School for Nurses (21 page)

‘I thought so,' Derek said. ‘Just as I expected. The drinks are for you, Gloria. Down one,
now
.'

‘What?' He knew perfectly well she was not a drinker, not like his wife, whom she had heard liked the sauce.

‘Get that drink down your throat, petal,' he said. ‘It's expected of my wives that they drink. Anyway, Margaret always drank during the performance of her duties, and I'm sure she had a right to do so.'

‘I can do anything
she
can,' Gloria retorted hotly.

‘Prove it. Ambassador Loo is waiting to be briefed by my
wife
.'

‘Fine!' Smiling stiffly, she tipped the glass with the green lime slice in it against her lips, and drained it straight off. The Vodka landed inside her like a wave of cold fire that felt very much like a punch in the stomach.

‘And the other one.' The Minister smiled. ‘My wife is known for being able to handle her liquor.'

Her head already spinning, Gloria Pryde drank the second vodka, and then, as if from very far away, she heard the dull thud of glasses hitting the carpet. The room was moving, and the last thing she saw was the floor coming up to meet her as she lost her balance and fell face down on the perfume-drenched shag.

 

Gloria awoke to a feeling of cold around her midriff. If she had not known better, she would have sworn her bottom was bare. She opened her eyes...

The black of the bedstead met her gaze. How odd. She could not remember the ambassador leaving, and surely she had not been out for more than a few minutes. Then she tried to push herself up, and discovered the scarves around her wrists, and the ones around her ankles.

She was trussed, a scarf at each wrist and each ankle, to the brass loops on the bedposts. Beneath her tummy there was a pillow, the one pillow she had noticed resting against the bedstead, so her face was pressed into the mattress. Now she could feel that the pillow was bent double under her, which had the effect of pushing her bottom up into the air. She also realised now why she had felt that sensation of cold about her middle when she awoke, because between her sweater and her high-heeled black shoes, she was completely naked. Someone had taken off her black mini-skirt before tying her face down on the bed. She was completely exposed below the waist, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw Derek and the Chinese Ambassador standing at the foot of the bed behind her spread-eagled legs.

She blushed to the roots of her hair to suddenly see them looking straight down at her body's most intimate recesses. ‘Derek, what's happening?' she asked anxiously. ‘Cover me up.'

‘Nothing is happening, my pet,' the Minister answered gravely, ‘just the usual wifely rounds. And I can't cover you up before the deal is done. Don't you want to make a contribution to international trade?'

‘I don't want him to see up my bottom!' she wailed. ‘And why are you holding those slippers?' Each man was holding one of the black slippers she had seen lying in the cupboard. They were both gazing appreciatively at her bottom while bending the flexible leather soles. ‘You're not...' she said weakly.

‘We are,' the Minister replied suavely.

The Ambassador bowed, and swished his slipper through the air.

Gloria winced, and instinctively clenched her buttocks.

‘Don't do that,' Derek said sharply. ‘We'll want those relaxed. It hurts more if you clench them.'

‘You can't do this to me,' she whimpered. ‘I'm your
wife
!'

‘That's what you
want
to be, my sweet. Well, this is what my wife Margaret has done for the British balance of trade these many years.'

‘I'm not a slag!' she sobbed. ‘I'm your lover!'

‘Of course you are, Gloria.' Derek waved Ambassador Loo forward with a gesture that said ‘after you'. ‘But now you want to be my wife, and with such dreams come responsibilities. Relax your buttocks... there's a dear. And hold your bum up, it saves pain on your thighs, believe me.'

‘Please be gentle,' she moaned, closing her eyes. She felt hands on her bottom, she didn't know whose, and added breathlessly, ‘I'm feeling delicate,' as a finger traced the intimate line between her soft yet firm white cheeks.

‘Not as delicate as you'll feel in a moment,' Derek assured her, and the first of the slipper's searing hot blows fell on her left buttock with a resounding smack.

‘Oh!' she gasped, surprised by how much it stung.

‘Not too bad, is it?' Derek asked. ‘Ambassador Loo is clearly a man of refinement. He won't start you off cold. Sixty blows I believe is traditional in China.'

‘Sixty?' She could not believe she had heard him right, and she looked up in time to catch an exchange of hand signals between the two diplomats. Derek was holding up his fingers and Ambassador Loo was holding some up in turn.

‘Good news, Gloria,' Derek said, ‘it's only going to be forty-five paddles with the slipper, but in exchange for the reduction, he wants to fuck your dear bottom.'

‘No! Oh Derek, no! Please don't let him bugger me! Please!'

‘All right, my petal, as you wish.' He nodded at the Ambassador and held up the finger of one hand plus five on the other. ‘Sixty it is, and then we shall have to see.'

Gloria's bottom was glowing by the time the twentieth blow fell across her left cheek. Ambassador Loo considerately alternated between them, giving each one of her cheeks a moment's respite. Or, looked at another way, it gave the pain time to peak so she suffered the full effect of each blow. By the time the slipper fell for the fortieth time, across her left cheek again, she was weeping in agony, and with a terrible excitement.

‘Care to renegotiate?' Derek asked.

‘No! Yes... no more, please, no more!' She was panting with misery and lust. ‘I'll do what you want, just don't give him my bum. But please, no more pain!'

‘There has to be more,' Derek said calmly, ‘but we'll see what we can do for you. After all, you are new at this wifely duty thing and you need practice.' On his signal, the slipper came down hard on her right cheek, and again on her left cheek, and then there was a blessed pause. She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder.

The Chinese Ambassador was unzipping his fly, and she saw at once that he wasn't wearing any briefs. His stiff cock leaned out of his grey trousers at a rakish angle.

‘Not my bum,' she squealed. ‘Not my bum, Derek, please!' But the Ambassador was already intent on parting her cheeks. Then one of his agile hands reached between her glowing buttocks, and his finger caressed her most intimate slot on its way down to her pussy, readily accessible between her widespread thighs. She struggled against the scarves around her ankles, but she could not help it, his finger was exciting her. It astonished her how wet being spanked had gotten her, and her arousal was rising to a crescendo of desire as he dipped his digit in and out of her drenched slot. To her horror, she found her hips writhing up to meet his finger as it twirled casually around and around in her quim.

‘Derek,' she gasped, ‘how can you stand this? He's doing this to me, in the same room, in front of you! Oh, I'm going to come...'

But Derek wasn't listening. When she opened her eyes again she found his cock beside her mouth as he leaned back against the bedstead with his trousers around his ankles, and she knew he expected her to suck it. ‘Where's Ambassador Loo?' she asked, because the exquisite teasing had ceased between her legs. She had been maddeningly close to an orgasm, but he stopped just before pushing her over the edge with just one finger. Then she realised where Ambassador Loo was as the finger that had been in her pussy pushed into the tight little rosebud between the cheeks of her bottom, lubricating it with her own warm juices and opening it up like a flower bud.

‘No...' she moaned softly as the Chinese ambassador entered her slowly but inexorably, his helmet forcing open her virgin hole and filling her up. He seemed to keep sinking into her so she felt he entered not just her sex but her belly as well. And Derek took advantage of her gaping mouth as she cried out to press his cock down along her tongue, pulling her face towards him, and suddenly she found herself bucking helplessly between two officers of state as one came quickly in her tight-squeezing anus, and the other one shot his seed down her throat while she too climaxed despite herself.

The Chinese Ambassador gave her obliging bottom a pat as he slipped his cock out of her burning hole. And then Derek saw him out, zipping himself up on the way. He returned a moment later and untied her arms, and then her legs. ‘Better have a bath,' he said. ‘The Swedish Ambassador is coming to the same dinner. He'll be here in an hour with his two interpreters, who like to watch. Of course, then they want their own turn. Better spray some perfume on your bum. Margaret always found it covered up a multitude of sins.'

 

 

Janilla was a tall, slender girl, and she was wearing white silk stockings that set off her coffee-dark skin and slim thighs. If you followed her long legs up and up, you would eventually encounter a skirt, a very short skirt as white as her stockings, and over the skirt you would be pleased to see a tight, low-cut short-sleeved white sweater whose soft, clinging fabric set off her magnificent 34D breasts, displaying the creamy chocolate fullness of her cleavage to delicious advantage. Her taut nipples just peeked through the thin material, for her sweater was semi-transparent in sunshine or under bright lights. Her large eyes were jet-black and usually as bright as polished wet pebbles, but today she was worried so they were slightly dimmed by anxiety. Her lips was beautifully full, although her mouth was almost too wide beneath her high Latin cheekbones, and today it was being nibbled on nervously by her startling white teeth. Her hands were tightly clutching her little white handbag against the front of her skirt as if it could protect her from the immigration officer before whose desk she was standing in the custom's office on the US and Canadian border. The officer wore a name tag that read
Superintendent
. He was an older man with a full head of white hair surrounding a hawk-like nose and a tight, unsmiling mouth.

‘Why all the white?' he asked Janilla, not unkindly.

‘I... I'm getting married today,' she replied softly, and then thought to add, ‘sir.' Janilla thought it best to watch her manners because her passport was in his hands. It was an old passport from Paraguay, and the multitude of square immigration stamps made the pages of her visa section a red quilt of dates stamped by countless other immigration officers at a variety of exotic frontiers. Up until now, she had always made it through without being touched, even though she could tell the male officers were all just aching for an excuse to search her. Janilla knew she was just the kind of girl a border guard would love to have spread her cheeks so he could thrust a probing finger up into her bottom. Then, of course, she would have to spread her legs as well so they could thrust rubber-gloved fingers into her pussy, ostensibly to search her body's infinitely sensitive cavity for any illegal items she might be trying to smuggle across the border. That's what they called it, a ‘cavity search'. What it meant was that someone had the license to put his hand into her most intimate recesses, to see her naked as she bent over an office chair and let him slip his fingers inside her, first into her rectum and then into her virginal vagina. So far, however, she had never been exposed like this; her pride as well as her precious hymen were intact.

‘Getting married to whom?' the inspector continued his enquiry.

‘To my sweetheart,' Janilla replied, unable to suppress a smile. Talking about her husband-to-be always brought a smile to her lips it made her so happy.

‘Is he a citizen?' the inspector demanded quietly. His manner was still relaxed, but a slight note of tension had begun to creep into his voice.

‘Yes, sir,' she said proudly.

‘So, you're getting married for a green card,' he summed up breezily. ‘I'm afraid we can't allow...'

‘Oh no, sir!' Janilla exclaimed. ‘I'm sorry for interrupting you, sir, but...'

‘I should think you would be sorry, young lady. You should have a little more respect for the immigration service of the country you seem so keen on becoming a citizen of.'

‘Oh, sir, I have lots of respect for you. I'm a very respectful young woman, sir, I always have been, it's just that I really do love my sweetheart. I'm not marrying him for a green card, not at all. I would never marry except for love.'

‘Really?' The inspector's ash-grey eyes looked her up and down slowly. They took her in from the tips of her painted toes in their white sandals, to the shining black waterfall of her long, straight hair. She blushed beneath his scrutiny, which made the skin of her cheeks a little darker than normal. He was looking too closely at her sweater for comfort.

‘Really, sir.' She swallowed hard. ‘I love him more than I can ever express. He's everything to me.'

‘Really?' the inspector repeated thoughtfully. ‘Well, step aside out of the line, please. There are some irregularities in your passport I have to look into. Go into the office on your right, and wait for me.'