School for Nurses (23 page)

‘You could be a hooker,' the inspector explained, ‘a professional. What you did for me isn't love at all. Or it might be. You came too, I believe? You enjoyed yourself, did you, my little wanton?' He smiled at her.

‘What do you want from me?' Janilla whispered in despair. ‘I love my husband. I'll love him until the day I die, if I ever get a chance to, that is. How else can I prove it to you?'

‘What more would you do for him?' the inspector asked softly.

‘Haven't I shown you already just what I'll do for him?' Janilla was close to sobbing with frustration and exhaustion. ‘You were in... you were in my...' She broke off. It was too shameful to say out loud. She could still feel his hot breath on the back of her neck, and his fingers working between her legs.

‘But you enjoyed that,' he insisted. ‘Your own body showed you up. You came, my little slut. No, we need some more hard evidence, something to show you really care.'

‘What?' Janilla asked faintly.

‘Hold out your hand.'

Past thinking, totally bewildered, Janilla held out her hand.

‘Put on this glove.' He pulled one of the latex gloves out of the box, and she slipped it on over her right hand. It was sticky despite the talc that had been pre-sprinkled inside the wrist, and hard to get one. ‘Now, give yourself a little inspection,' he instructed, ‘just for the record.' And then he took a camera out of the desk drawer, an instamatic with a large flash.

‘I don't understand,' Janilla said stupidly.

‘Drop your panties and put your finger up your ass.' The inspector was losing patience. ‘We have procedures here, and you haven't been punished yet.'

‘Punished for what?' she wailed. ‘I did everything you told me to.'

‘If you really love him, you'll take punishment for him,' he explained evenly, as patiently as if he was speaking to a child. ‘It's not just fun and games, marriage. Sometimes there's pain involved.'

‘I won't give myself a cavity search,' Janilla said hotly. ‘I won't.' It was all just too much, and suddenly she was much more furious than frightened.

‘Then you'll go back home to Paraguay,' the inspector retorted lightly, ‘and your wedding night will have been with me. I'm the lucky man.'

Once again, Janilla dropped her panties, and once again she pulled open the cheeks of her buttocks, but this time she slipped a cool, gloved finger into her anus while the flash went off. The inspector took pictures of her beautiful face looking proudly defiant, and then deeply ashamed as she probed her own asshole. Then he put the camera down to spank her. ‘It's traditional,' he told her. ‘In our country, a bride usually gets a spanking from her father the night before she begins her life with another man,' he lied through his teeth.

‘Is that true?' Janilla went wide-eyed with amazement.

‘Oh yes,' he assured her. ‘You'd better tell your new husband to punish you almost every day, or you won't be allowed to stay in this country.'

‘Thank you, signor, I will remember that.'

‘My pleasure,' he said. ‘Now bend over and touch your toes.'

Janilla winced when his open hand made contact with her cheeks. He spanked her slowly and methodically until her buttocks were burning and the painful warmth was flooding her pussy in a frighteningly pleasurable way.

‘You're almost ready to start married life,' the inspector told her. ‘Almost.'

‘What more do I need to do, signor?' Janilla asked as she pulled her panties up over her smouldering cheeks and smoothed her white skirt down over her thighs in an effort to restore her pure, virginal image.

‘You must learn to use your mouth like an American bride,' the inspector informed her. ‘Get on your knees.'

And Janilla knelt, taking great care not to run her white stockings as the inspector unzipped his pants a second time and her beautiful lips parted to accept his cock. She took it into her mouth and sucked hungrily on the taste of her life to come, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of her future as a married woman in ‘the land of the free'.

All dressed in white, with another man's sperm seeping onto the insides of her thighs, she went past the immigration line to meet her husband - tugging her skirt down over the white lace panties sticking to her warm wet vulva, the cheeks of her bottom burning like hot coffee - a freshly spanked virgin tender to the touch everywhere.

 

 

 

Anna Li was an extremely slender young woman, and she was a good five-feet-ten, which gave her thinness an almost ethereal air. She had a spiky mop of jet-black hair, barely long enough to put back in a ponytail, and she wore comfortable rice slippers everywhere, but she was tall enough not to need heels to set off her shapely legs, which seemed to go on forever. Her breasts were small, but her slim torso made her bosom seem bigger than it was below her wide, pouting lips. The extreme slightness of her arms emphasised the round fullness of the spheres beneath her shirt that bounced freely since she never wore a bra.

Anna Li's breasts were safely tucked away this morning for her audition, a particularly gruelling audition for a very important musical body,
The Young Violinists' Trust
. Her instrument banged gently against her thigh as she made her way up the long winding staircase of Wigmore Hall - all polished wooden panels and teak over plush red-and-gold carpets - to the small audition waiting room at the top of the stairs. She was wearing a very fetching short-sleeved silk blouse, a short navy blue skirt that fell to just above her knees, and today in place of her rice slippers she had slipped on shiny black patent-leather shoes over knee-high white socks. Friends had told her to go for the ‘little girl look' which sometimes helped at auditions, and even though she did not understand why that should be the case, she took every advantage she could get, especially since it went along with her usual habit of not wearing a bra. Her light-brown nipples, hardened by the exertion as she hurried up the stairs, flashed darkly through her delicate white blouse, and becoming pleasantly aware of them, she hoped they too would stand her in good stead.

‘Through there,' a severe woman at the top of the stairs said, and Anna stepped into the waiting room. Pictures hung on every wall of famous musicians, most of them dead already, and she wondered if anyone still alive could be considered good enough to play in these august surroundings. Then almost at once she got her call, and her belly churning, the neck of her violin a little slippery in her hand, she stepped through the great white door into a small corridor and from there onto the large, open stage beneath the lights. Beyond their bright halo lay the great black empty auditorium, and in it somewhere sat the person who would be auditioning her.

She blinked, unable to see beyond the great spotlights trained directly on her where she stood in the middle of the stage behind the music stand. She raised a hand up to her eyes and tried in vain to see out into the black auditorium.

‘Miss Li.' A voice rose out of the seemingly vast darkness, a man's voice, deep and firm. ‘It says here that you will be eighteen next month, only just making the qualification guidelines for this particular award. Are you sure you are in the right place?'

‘Um, I think so,' Anna replied. She had not expected this question. She had expected simply to play, not to discuss her application with the judge.

‘You are not dressed like an eighteen-year-old,' he observed.

‘I...' Anna's mind reeled. She could not tell him what she had been told, or admit that she had worn a short skirt and a half transparent blouse in the hope of gaining an advantage with them. And yet she had to say something. ‘I like to feel comfortable when I'm playing,' she muttered.

‘Do you? Very well then, proceed. And mind you, be sure to play comfortably.'

Anna's bow felt strangely leaden in her hand; she could never remember it feeling so heavy. It was suddenly so heavy that it might have been a piece of timber just fallen off a builder's lorry she was expected to lift over delicate strings and make beautiful music with. And her violin, as she brought it up and tucked it between her shoulder and her chin, felt strange to her, as though it was alive, as though it was a hand touching her on the neck, a man's hand... Perhaps it was the invisible eyes staring out at her from the impenetrable darkness before her, and the act of obeying the commands of a disembodied voice that made her so intensely conscious of her own body. She swallowed hard, attempting to digest these strange sensations without letting them distract her, and tried to pull herself together.

‘Is anything the matter, Miss Li?' the voice enquired patiently.

‘No, sir,' she said quickly, ‘I'm fine.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes, absolutely sure, sir.'

‘Well?'

‘I'm sorry... I'm just nervous, I guess.'

‘Everyone gets nervous,' the judge answered, still sounding patient, ‘that is the point of auditions, to see how you react under pressure, to find out what you are made of. Are you sure you are comfortable enough to play?'

‘Oh, yes.'

‘Because if you are not,' the voice went on remorselessly, ‘perhaps there is something I can do for you to make you feel more
comfortable
. Within reason, of course.'

‘Thank you,' Anna said, confused by the offer, ‘but I'm fine, really.'

‘Well then play.
Now
,' the voice said more firmly, a sour note of impatience ringing in its melodious depths.

She had no choice, she had to begin playing.

It was awful. The first piece went relatively well, and the second wasn't going too badly, but then the distracting sound started. It sounded like papers rustling in the orchestra pit below the stage, or perhaps in the front row of seats, a crisp, persistent noise that disrupted her concentration, taking her focus away from the music as she wondered if the judge was bored and leafing listlessly through her application papers while he waited for her to finish so he could tell her she had not passed the audition. Her nerves snapped like brittle old strings, and after that it was terrible. The piece fell apart in her hands and the bow felt like a fallen branch she was scraping across an empty box. She felt tears burning in her eyes because she had failed, she knew it in her bones even as she continued to play. She would not get the award, and she would no longer be able to afford studying the violin.

‘Miss Li,' the judge's voice rose out of the darkness as she finished one piece and, her teeth clenched, prepared to launch into another, ‘I think you can stop right there.'

Anna Li heaved a silent sob. She couldn't help herself. His comment made it official - she had failed. He didn't even want to hear the rest of her programme she had played so badly.

‘I think,' the voice said again, ‘that you did well to wear what you felt comfortable in, only I think you did not go quite far enough.'

Anna was too busy feeling miserable to even begin to understand what he meant by that. She had failed. She would never play the violin again. And how would she face her mother, who was so proud of her talented daughter?

‘Perhaps you would consider following my advice during the last piece in your program?'

She focused on what he was saying again. He wanted to hear her play the rest of her programme? She wasn't so bad after all? She hadn't failed completely yet?

‘Perhaps I can help bring out the best in you,' the voice went on magnanimously, ‘under these difficult circumstances.'

‘I'll do anything you suggest, sir.' Anna blinked gratefully into the spotlights. ‘Anything.'

‘I am pleased to hear that. Take off your skirt.'

‘I beg your pardon, sir?'

‘You heard me,' the voice replied firmly. ‘However, in case your hearing is remarkably poor for a musician, I will deign to repeat myself. Take off your skirt.'

‘I...' Anna's mind was definitely reeling now. She could scarcely believe what he was telling her to do, and yet she was desperate not to blow what might be a real chance to save the audition, and her career as a violinist.

‘You wanted to be
comfortable
,' the judge went on smoothly, sounding completely untroubled by her stunned discomfiture. ‘If you want me to listen to the rest of your program, I suggest you follow my suggestions as to what will make you feel more comfortable. Take your skirt off. It looks quite tight, and I suspect it may be interfering with your circulation somewhat, whereas it is having the opposite effect on mine.'

Anna squinted into the darkness behind the blinding lights, decided she couldn't face her mother if she didn't get the scholarship, and unzipped the side of her blue skirt. It slipped down easily over her slim hips, and she stepped out of it trying to imagine that she was alone in her room and not on a stage. Then she stood with her violin held strategically in front of her cotton bikini panties, white panties to match her socks. A breeze seemed to waft across the stage from the dark wings, and her legs trembled slightly as it caressed her bare skin.