My Sweet Degradation (18 page)

I pulled my finger from her pussy and held it up to the light so that it glistened, slick with her juices.

‘But don't worry about it,' I continued, adopting a softer expression. ‘It's nothing I haven't seen before.'

Of course it was a game, of course it was revenge, but I still wanted Libby's body as much as I ever did. It would have been so easy for me to fuck her right there, right then, and I have absolutely no doubt that she wanted exactly that too, but where would the lesson have been in that? I had waited weeks for this moment to arrive, and desperate though I was to feel her tight young pussy sucking around my cock, I simply had to take my time, to really savour the experience.

‘Forgive me, Nurse Simmons,' I went on, ‘but I've not finished my job yet, have I? There's somewhere else that needs licking clean.'

Lowering my face between her parted thighs I pressed my lips to the smooth swell of Libby's pussy, self-indulgently drawing in the musky scent of her arousal and feeling my aching cock throb in response. I alternated between planting delicate kisses against the slick flesh of her cunt lips, with teasing laps of my tongue, and she lifted her hips so that I might kiss and lick her more intimately still.

But I was in complete control now, and I continued to taunt her mercilessly, purposely teasing her clit with only an occasional feather-light flick of my tongue.

Libby began to release frustrated sobs and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl. So, and despite the fact that she deserved a far harsher punishment, I circled my lips around her clit and began to suck. I had to press down against Libby's thighs so she'd not inadvertently injure my still fragile jaw, such was the degree that she thrashed.

I alternated sucking, drawing her clitoris tight within the vacuum of my mouth, with lapping her with the flat of my tongue. Once again I used my fingers to enter her, two held firmly together, and Libby's pussy gripped me with a succulent wet heat.

I finger-fucked her slowly whilst licking her swollen bud, from side to side then up and down. Her delectable body was almost too easy for me to read, and as she tensed one moment, releasing a muffled squeal from the back of her throat, and relaxed the next, I worked her just the way I knew she wanted.

It was not long before I sensed the sexy nurse's climax fast approaching, and I taunted her harder and faster, lapping her clit and fucking her wet hole with straightened fingers. Her feet writhed against the sheets as she released muted cry after cry.

With one final, intense assault, and just at the very moment when I feared I might push her over the edge, I lifted myself away, panting and wiping my wet chin against the back of a hand.

Libby stared up at me with a look of absolute horror, and I was finally witness to what she must have seen in my eyes, yet teasingly chose to ignore, only a few weeks earlier.

‘Christ, I'm so sorry, Nurse Simmons,' I said, ‘I'm afraid I got a little carried away. Your delicious little pussy just tasted so sweet and I couldn't resist it. I'm not sure what came over me. Please forgive me.'

I smirked down at her, blatantly admiring the way her lovely breasts rose and fell as she tried to calm her agitated breathing.

‘I must admit though,' I went on, ‘it really is a remarkably tasty pussy, and I know this is an outrageous thing to ask of a nice young lady such as yourself, but do you remember when you allowed me to test how smooth it was with the tip of my cock? When you rubbed me up and down with it? You do? Well, would you mind if I was to try that again, now? It really did feel so nice.'

Libby moaned some kind of unintelligible affirmation and vigorously nodded her head, but even if she'd protested it would have made no difference as I fully intended to fuck her anyway.

‘Thank you, my dear,' I crowed, ‘that's very sweet of you.'

Quickly stepping out of my pyjama bottoms I stood their naked and unabashed, my cock rigid and curving outrageously up towards the flat of my stomach. I caught Libby staring wide-eyed, as I carefully climbed up onto the bed to kneel between her thighs, gripping my shaft in my fist and stroking it back and forth. Carefully I positioned myself over her, supporting my weight on a single arm, and then guided my cock against her exposed, vulnerable pussy.

She shut her eyes and whimpered as I pressed the bloated tip into her slit, and I too was forced to swallow hard as I felt her soft wet flesh envelop me. Pushing a little deeper I worked myself between her lips.

‘Fuck me, Nurse Libby, you really do feel amazing,' I grunted, teasing her further still, ‘but if only... if only I could enter you.'

As I knew they would her eyes immediately flashed wider and pleaded with me to do just that, but of course I ignored her in just the same way she had ignored me when in control of proceedings.

I began to work myself up and down between her sex lips again until the scarlet head of my cock ran slick with her cream. I aimed it at her entrance and she angled her hips to offer herself more blatantly. The lone arm that supported my weight burned like hell now, and it was not an act when I said, ‘I'm sorry, young lady, but I can't hold myself like this any longer. My muscles are still too weak, but it would be such a shame to stop now.'

She quickly nodded her head in agreement and, smiling to myself, I moved on to the final stage of my revenge. ‘But maybe, if I just rest like this for a little while,' and I pushed forward so that her body began to yield to me.

She really did feel incredible, and her wet heat begged me to press further. It was as much a torture for me as it must have been for her, but I certainly didn't intend to deny myself for much longer. Libby lifted her hips, encouraging me to enter her deeper, but with each of her thrusts towards me I would only pull away.

Then supporting my weight on both arms I stared deep into her eyes. ‘You look beautiful, my dear,' I whispered, and slowly I began to tense and release the muscles of my arse so as to fuck her entrance only. ‘You know, you were right when you told me before that it was such a shame we couldn't fuck. Can you imagine how good that would feel? But I really would hate to be responsible for you losing your job. Although, wouldn't it be lovely to see what it was like?'

Libby's eyes pleaded with me as she whimpered against the gag. ‘Maybe we should try it, just once,' I goaded, and as she nodded her head impatiently I thrust my hips and buried my cock deep within her cunt with one smooth movement.

After weeks of pain and frustration I'm not sure that I have ever experienced a sensation more wonderful than Libby's tight cunt as it gripped me. Yet even now she gave in to her selfish side by quickly angling her hips and using her strong inner muscles against me. I could easily have succumbed to her, but I felt it was my duty to remain in control. And so almost as quickly as I entered her I pulled back until the tip of my cock was lodged at her entrance again, and I returned to taunting her with the subtlest of movements only.

Poor Nurse Libby's nostrils flared and her brow furrowed. She cried out as best she could, but I simply ignored her protests and continued with my unremitting tease. ‘Fuck, that was amazing!' I gasped. ‘It somehow feels so wrong for me to be doing this to you, but...'

Nurse Simmons groaned and threw back her head as again I thrust the full length of my cock deep inside her, adjusting the angle of my hips for deeper penetration, but just as before I quickly withdrew. The poor girl's eyes sparkled wide and flashed with frustration as I continued tormenting her, and really it gave me no pleasure to watch her suffer in such a way. It was time for the lesson to be brought to a close.

‘I'm sorry, nurse, I just can't help myself, but just like with the latex gloves, if you don't tell then neither will I.'

I sank into her again.

Lifting myself up onto locked arms, aching and trembling though they were, I began to fuck gorgeous Nurse Simmons with long, deep strokes, sliding from the tip of my shaft all the way to the root, and out again.

Harder and faster I thrust, my abdomen slapping noisily against hers. Her lithe body felt just too damn good and the sensation of her hot wet cunt sucking tightly around my erection almost made up for her previous behaviour. Beyond the physical sensation of her body beneath me, the psychological element that I was finally taking what I had been owed for so long was enough to send thrill after spine-tingling thrill coursing through my body. Panting and grunting I willed myself to ignore the dull ache of my arms and to accept only the immense pleasures of her pussy, and with one last burst of energy I increased my pace.

I have no idea how close she was herself – I was entirely lost, and in that moment my plan could easily have gone wrong – but as I felt my orgasm surge I quickly withdrew from the moist heaven of her cunt, taking my prick in a fist and working it hard for a second or two, then I gave in, crying out as I began to spurt hot sticky cum all over the panting nurse's stomach and breasts.

The pleasure was simply far too great for me to be aware of anything beyond my own intense climax, but as I began to slow, to stroke my cock again and the last heavy drops splashed down on her tummy, I opened my eyes to view the mess I'd deposited on her exhausted body.

I had won. Revenge was finally mine. And as the last vestiges of pure animal pleasure slipped away from me I felt truly awful. I had lowered myself to her level, yet gained little satisfaction in doing so.

Climbing from the bed, avoiding her gaze as I did, I tried to justify what I had just done with the thought that it was no worse than anything she had subjected me to, and that Nurse Simmons really did deserve to be taught a lesson.

Quickly I dressed in the clean clothes I'd left hidden on the chair beneath my dressing gown, pulling on a pair of boots before turning to face the bed once more. She stared up at me, her eyes dull and her pupils as black as polished jet.

‘I'm sorry, Libby,' I said, and really I was. But in a way I was grateful, too. Nurse Simmons had used me all right; she had made me the victim of her own peculiar little game, but even so I couldn't help but feel something for her. Had she known what she was doing by teasing me in such an outrageous manner? Of course she had. Had she meant to cause me any real distress? I'm not so sure.

I released one strap from around her wrist before leaning down to kiss her lightly on the lips. Then turning away, I left my room for good.

You see, earlier that afternoon I had officially been discharged with as clean a bill of health as I could have hoped for. I was so relieved that I had thought about leaving there and then, but knowing that I was so close to seeing Nurse Libby Simmons for one last time, knowing that really I was owed my revenge, I persuaded the ward sister to allow me to stay for one more night based on the lie that I had no way of getting home until the following morning.

And even now, two years on, I often find myself thinking about Libby Simmons. I often wonder if she's out there somewhere, playing her little games, and if she is, whether I should feel sorry for her victims or be envious of them. Mostly, though, I just look back on strange weeks in a peculiar phase of my life that was made that little bit more interesting by a unique and utterly remarkable young woman.

There was pain, there was fear and yes, there was frustration beyond belief, but would I have changed any of it had I been able to? If it meant missing out on meeting Libby Simmons, my naughty little nurse, then I'm not so sure that I would.

 

 

 

Samantha was a spoilt brat, and proud of it. She could do whatever she pleased and there wasn't a soul in the world could stop her. Or so she believed...

She was a young woman now, and felt with all of her heart that every day spent in school was a day wasted when she could be out there having fun. Samantha would regularly question what the point in her education was anyway; it wasn't as if she would ever need to work. Her trust fund was set to mature as soon as she hit twenty-one, and she knew full well that the content of her father's wallet was never more than a well-timed hug and a fluttered eyelash away.

Over the years Samantha had used every devious trick in the book to get herself expelled from a succession of the finest girls' schools in the country. On the last occasion, her suggesting to the headmistress that she should perhaps, ‘Get laid and then maybe she would lighten up a little,' to an audience of the entire sixth form, had proven to be the final straw in a long list of calculated and petulant misdemeanours.

Samantha had mewed to her father that it wasn't actually her fault that she kept getting thrown out of school, and went on to explain that none of them seemed to understand her quite the way that her
daddy
did. She had suggested that they perhaps forget about her schooling altogether, and that it might be a better idea to set her up with a nice little apartment in one of the more fashionable parts of town instead.

For once, however, things had not gone entirely her way as, although Samantha's father was something of a pushover where his daughter was concerned, he was nevertheless a principled man and was determined that his only child should receive the education his own humble beginnings had denied him. As a last ditch attempt to make that happen, he had called in a few favours and promised to make an enormous donation to the school gymnasium fund just so as to secure a place for his daughter at the very expensive
Saint Hilda's Boarding School for Young Ladies
.

Samantha had, of course, stomped and strutted, complaining bitterly that it just wasn't fair, before finally refusing point-blank to go. But by way of a compromise her father suggested that if she were to attend school and be expelled yet again, then he would finally allow her to put her schooldays behind her for good. If, on the other hand, she were to leave by her own volition, then he would cancel her trust fund and let her make her own way in the big wide world, just as he had done all those years ago as a penniless sixteen-year-old boy.

Consequently, Samantha grinned to herself in the knowledge that she would have Saint Hilda's packing her suitcases for her in no time at all!

 

Being summoned to the headmaster's office on her very first day at the new school was impressive, even by Samantha's standards. She'd seen him for the first time during morning assembly, and was actually pleasantly surprised by what she had found. He must have been in his late-forties and she thought him rather handsome in that ‘older-man' kind of a way.

Samantha was well aware of the powers she wielded as an extremely attractive young lady, and she had decided that there might be some fun to be had in the process of getting herself kicked out. Of course, it would be a shame if his career was ruined in the process, but it wasn't as if Samantha could be entirely blamed if they just happened to be caught performing inappropriate acts in his study.

Saint Hilda's had a strict uniform policy, yet as she strolled casually along the corridor it was plain to see that Samantha was already flouting it outrageously. Her regimental school-tartan skirt was tiny compared to the other girls', and whenever she found herself needing to bend forward it proved to be downright indecent.

Her blouse was at least two sizes too small and she had buttoned it not nearly high enough at the neck. And as for the heels of her shoes, they must have been a good three inches higher than permitted under school law. Samantha's entire appearance could not, in all honesty, be considered decent for a young lady at Saint Hilda's, but she knew that very well, and if it only ended up in hastening her expulsion, then that was just perfect.

Arriving at the headmaster's study some six minutes late for her meeting with him, Samantha knocked on the heavy oak door and entered. Inside was a reception area where a bespectacled secretary sat typing at her desk.

‘Excuse me, I'm here to see the headmaster,' Samantha announced with exaggerated shyness, already practicing the Little-Miss-Innocence voice that had yet to fail her, while locking her hands behind her back and gently swinging her hips from side to side.

The secretary looked her up and down with a raised eyebrow, before smiling. ‘Very well, let's see then, shall we? Your name please?'

‘Samantha,' she replied. ‘Samantha Nelson.' She watched as the secretary drew a painted fingernail across the open page of the headmaster's diary.

‘No... no I don't think so,' she replied.

‘Oh, but...'

‘Wait a moment,' the secretary went on, ‘I'm sure I can guess what the problem is.' She reached across her desk for a separate appointment book, before setting it down and flipping through the pages. ‘Ah yes! Just as I thought; here we are.' She looked up once more, only this time without any hint of a smile. ‘No, you are not scheduled to see the headmaster at all, young lady. You have an appointment with the discipline officer, and you're late!'

Something about the way the secretary's sunny demeanour suddenly evaporated caused Samantha's stomach to lurch unpleasantly. ‘Who?' she quickly questioned, more than a little unnerved.

‘It's “who”
miss
, and all in good time, young lady. Now, take a seat over there. You'll be called for soon enough.'

Samantha did just as she was told, as much out of confusion as compliance, and sat in silence with her brow furrowed wondering what on earth a ‘discipline officer' could be, as none of her previous schools had ever had such a thing. Whatever it was, it did not sound promising.

She wasn't given long to consider the matter, however, as suddenly a buzzer on the secretary's desk startled Samantha out of her reverie.

‘You may go through now, Miss Nelson,' the secretary announced, indicating a door to the right.

Samantha stood and straightened what little there was of her skirt to straighten. She took a deep, steadying breath and reminded herself that she was special, and could do absolutely anything she pleased, before stepping towards the door to turn the polished brass handle.

She found herself entering a large study that was very much in keeping with the grandeur of the school. Her heels clicked across polished wooden boards, and she looked up to see bookshelves towering all around her, each one brimming with leather-bound tomes.

An enormous marble fireplace dominated one wall, and to one side sat an imposing, heavy oak desk, yet as Samantha peered through the gloom of the room, she could see no one sitting behind it.

She slowly peered around and was suddenly surprised to see a woman's form silhouetted against one of the large arched windows opposite. She was standing with her back to the room, clearly looking out over the playing fields which stretched away outside. And whoever she was, she did not turn to face Samantha when she eventually spoke.

‘Come in, Samantha, and please be a dear and shut the door behind you.'

Samantha did just as instructed, rather confused by the peculiarity of the situation.

After a further period of silence, the tense atmosphere doing nothing to relieve Samantha's growing sense of uncertainty, the woman turned around.

She smiled warmly at Samantha and stepped forward with supreme confidence, while offering a hand in greeting. Samantha took it instinctively and stared, open-mouthed, without uttering a word. The lady was quite breathtaking. She was certainly beautiful, but there was more to it than that. She had a certain elegance about her that Samantha had never seen among the staff of a stuffy old boarding school before. But it was not just her natural good looks that were so striking; there was something strangely contradictory about the way she dressed. On the one hand she looked intensely formal, yet on the other she exuded a strange, elusive sexuality.

The discipline officer wore a tight cream-coloured blouse, which was buttoned all the way up to her neck and was set off with a string of beautiful, silver-grey pearls. She wore a long, very tight pencil skirt in dark grey, which was patterned with only the faintest of pinstripes. It was cut high in the waist and accentuated the curve of her impressive hourglass figure just perfectly. From what little of her legs were on show, Samantha could see that the she was wearing silk stockings, with an obvious seam that ran up the back of her calves, and she had no doubt that they would be fastened to appropriately luxurious underwear.

On her feet the lady wore patent leather stiletto heels, far more extreme than any Samantha had seen on a teacher before.

‘Hello, Samantha, I'm very pleased to meet you,' the lady said. ‘My name is Miss Grant, and I am Saint Hilda's discipline officer.'

There was something hypnotic about the icy-blue grip of Miss Grant's stare, and Samantha was not at all sure that she liked it. It almost felt as though she was being read, as though her most secret thoughts had been laid bare, yet unnerved as she was, Samantha felt quite powerless to look away. But eventually the discipline officer blinked softly and Samantha felt as though she could breathe once more.

‘Please, do take a seat,' she offered, at last releasing Samantha's hand and indicating the straight-backed chair that stood to the front of the desk.

Samantha seated herself in silence. She watched, utterly transfixed, as Miss Grant stepped around the desk and lowered herself smoothly and effortlessly into her own chair. The discipline officer sat with perfect poise, the epitome of refined elegance previous schools had desperately, and unsuccessfully, tried to drum into Samantha. She picked up a pair of tortoiseshell reading spectacles and perching them on the tip of her nose.

‘Lollipop?' she suddenly asked, lifting a huge glass jar from the corner of the desk and tipping it towards Samantha, who looked utterly affronted that anyone could possibly think a young lady of her age could be placated by something as childish as sweeties.

‘Um, no thanks,' she mumbled in response.

‘Suit yourself,' Miss Grant said, completely at ease. ‘Now then, to business.' She reached for a rather thick dossier of papers and set them down in front of herself. Briefly she looked over the rim of her glasses and offered a smile, causing Samantha's stomach to lurch once more, before turning her attention to the folder.

Miss Grant really was a remarkable looking woman, and Samantha couldn't stop herself from studying her while she read. Her hair was a lustrous chocolate-brown, and although it must have been rather long, she wore it pinned up at the back in a way that would have looked incredibly severe on many women, yet somehow suited Miss Grant just perfectly and only added to her refined glamour.

Her eyebrows were meticulously sculpted and arched, her skin alabaster white, and but for a tiny chicken-pox scar on one cheek, entirely blemish free. Seemingly, the only concession that the discipline officer made to traditional femininity was in her decision to wear lipstick, yet even this was a shade darker than was perhaps obvious, and reminded Samantha uneasily of dried blood.

After a few minutes, which to the disquieted schoolgirl felt like an eternity, Miss Grant suddenly closed the file of papers with a dramatic slap, causing Samantha to jump with fright.

‘Well now, Samantha,' she said, ‘you
have
found yourself in a number of little scrapes over the years, haven't you?' Again her words were accompanied by that gentle smile. In a way it made Samantha want to trust her, yet at the same time it somehow made her seem that little bit more dangerous.

The discipline officer's words were of course a major understatement, as Samantha's records showed that she had been disciplined, suspended and ultimately expelled from more schools than you could care to shake a stick at.

‘The good news, however, is that we do not care about previous misdemeanours here at Saint Hilda's,' the woman went on. ‘All of our girls start afresh with an absolutely clean slate.' She paused and raised an accusatory eyebrow before continuing. ‘But sadly, Samantha, on this your very first day here you have already chosen to blot your copybook. What was it now?' She reached across and picked up a memorandum from the desk. ‘Ah yes. “Smoking a cigarette on school premises”.'

Samantha thrived on confrontation. Her absolute belief that she could get away with anything calmed her and a tiny piece of Miss Grant's spell was suddenly broken. ‘Yes, Miss,' she replied with a smirk.

The schoolgirl's arrogance only seemed to amuse Miss Grant, however, as she released a tiny snort of laughter. ‘Well, full marks for honesty, I must say. I'm very impressed that you didn't try to blame it on one of the other girls.' There was a sudden, almost imperceptible shift in Miss Grant's expression that caused Samantha to stiffen on her chair. ‘You are by no means unique, Samantha, and I have seen this kind of thing many times before. You were intentionally exerting what power you perceive yourself to have in a blatant and all too obvious manner; testing your boundaries, as it were. You knew full well that you would get caught and you knew full well that a confrontation would ensue.