School for Nurses (25 page)

 

 

‘Lift up your skirt.' The usually smooth old voice sounded harsh and commandingly sharp. Madame Stryker smoothed away a stray lock of white hair that had escaped the severe bun perched on top of her head, accentuating her high cheekbones and broad forehead, as she surveyed the blonde girl standing before her in a short-sleeved white shirt and a crisp pleated tennis skirt.

The girl was Valerie D'Ambois. She was lovely, and she had all the makings of a star. Valeria possessed grace, magnetism and skill, and somehow her gorgeous thirty-six-D breasts did not hinder her movements on the tennis court. Valerie could be a star because people liked looking at her, men in particular, and Madame Stryker, like any truly good coach would, intended to teach Valerie who she was and everything she could be. ‘Lift your skirt, girl,' she repeated impatiently. ‘I haven't got all day.'

‘But...'

‘What is it, girl?' the older woman demanded fiercely. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?'

‘But I won!' Valerie exclaimed, in a soft but nevertheless defiant voice.

‘Yes, you won,' her teacher responded just as quietly. ‘Of course you won. My pupils
always
win. But
how
did you win?'

‘My... my serve,' the blonde girl answered, biting her lip as she realised what was coming.

‘Exactly, your serve.' The older woman's voice rose slightly. ‘Your serve! And what am I always telling you that you must learn to have?'

‘A stride.' Valerie looked down at her tennis shoes.

‘A stride to catch the other girl's serve and to bring her down,' Madame Stryker added, breathing hard now. ‘And have you learned that?'

‘I'm sorry, madam,' Valerie muttered.

‘Lift up your skirt!'

‘Not when I've just won.'

‘I'll tell you when you've won,' her coach snapped. ‘Now show me your bottom.'

Knowing there was nothing else for it, the lovely girl turned around obediently and lifted the short, crisply ironed pleats of her skirt to reveal her perfect pair of cheeks. They were firm but also beautifully full, and right now they were nestled comfortably inside a pair of tight white athletic panties.

‘Stick your bottom out,' Madame Stryker commanded.

Valerie complied. She was gritting her teeth, but she complied. At least Madame Stryker had waited until the other girl left before doing this. Valerie knew her teacher enjoyed disciplining students in front of each other ‘for the general education of all', as she was wont to say.

‘Now bend over, girl.'

Valerie cursed silently, but did as she was told. She had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but the old bat was obviously in a tizzy.

‘Down with your panties, and take them off completely. Don't leave them around your ankles. I want you bare.' Madame Stryker spat out her instructions with relish.

Valerie bit her lip again in anticipation, and fear. This was going to be the whole works, and she felt the usual blush warm her face as she reached back, her head more or less parallel with her knees, and pulled down her tight white cotton panties, exposing the taut cheeks of her bottom as she slid them down her slender legs.

Madame Stryker feasted her eyes on the displayed buttocks. They were deliciously round and relaxed, not anxiously clenched; the girl did not yet fear the punishment coming to her. Her blonde bush was just visible above the tender lips of her sex, and also visible was the little rosebud of her anus, which Madame Stryker considered her own personal prize. She knew once she had the girl properly trained that she would perform on the court just as she wanted her to. But Rome was not built in a day, nor was a girl broken in a week. She reached out a hand and rested it lightly against her student's cheeks. ‘What have we learned, Valerie?' she asked.

‘To be faster on the court?' the girl responded nervously, clinging to her ankles to hold her position.

‘We should learn to
obey
,' Madame Stryker said, and lifting her hand, she brought it back down again fiercely across the girl's left buttock.

‘Oh!' Valerie cried. ‘I'm sorry, madam,' she apologised at once.

‘You will pay a penalty,' Madame Stryker decreed, and her hand came down again even harder on the girl's right cheek.

This time Valerie kept quiet, biting her lip from the pain but knowing better than to straighten up and move away. The blows fell one by one, on this cheek, and then that cheek, slowly and regularly, which was how it hurt the most. And then the punishing hand hovered over her blazing cheeks again.

‘What have we learned, Valerie?' the severe woman demanded.

‘To do as madame says,' Valerie replied meekly and dutifully.

‘You have done well, dear girl.' Madame Stryker's fingers slipped between the cheeks of the girl's bottom, and moved down to part the soft and silky lips nestled below.

‘Oh...' the girl's mouth fell open, and she moaned as Madame Stryker dipped her fingers into her hot young slot and manipulated her swollen clitoris until she couldn't resist thrusting her hips back against the skilled old hand.

‘Do we know how to obey?' Madame Stryker asked quietly.

‘Yes, madam, yes,' Valerie sighed, and climaxed as madame flicked her clit swiftly back and forth with a long fingernail. An orgasm making her whole body shudder, she pressed her face against her knees as waves of pleasure crashed through her blood and made her cry out despite herself.

 

‘Today we are playing the full game,' Madame Stryker announced. It was a week later and Valerie was in a tracksuit and running shoes. Beneath the suit she wore a tight vest with no bra, on the insistence of Madame Stryker, who liked to pull the girl's tracksuit bottoms down and get straight to work on the vital matter of proper discipline. ‘You have heard me discuss,' Madame Stryker began, ‘the difference between the male and the female game.'

Valerie nodded dumbly. She found this was the safest way to respond when madame was in a certain mood, and she was, more often than not, it had to be said, in a certain mood.

‘What is the difference between the male and the female game?' madame demanded.

‘The masculine game is fuller?' she muttered a guess, unable to remember what her coach had actually said about the two games.

‘Stupid girl!' Madame Stryker snapped. She picked up one of the black crops she favoured for private training sessions with her more promising pupils, a hand-stitched leather riding crop with a tightly laced grip at the handle that sat as comfortably in her hand as a conductor's baton. ‘What is the difference between the male and female game?' she asked again slowly, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Thankfully, the answer came swimming out of Valerie's memory. ‘Women play the game to be filled,' she replied hastily. ‘Men play the game to be emptied.' She smiled, proud of herself.

‘Well done,' madame said, just a little sarcastically. ‘And do you know what this saying means?'

‘Um... no,' Valerie admitted, and now she knew it was going to be one of those days. This time, her relentless coach was really going to give her the works, she could feel it.

‘Today, I wanted to show you what the male game is like,' Madame Stryker informed her, ‘but I can see that won't be possible. I will have to find another teacher for you, and you can go study with him from now on. What I can teach you will no longer do.'

Valerie's mind reeled from the implication of these words. ‘You mean...?'

‘Yes,' madame said firmly. ‘If what I said has meant nothing to you, if after all this time you haven't a clue what I was trying to tell you, then you had best get yourself a male teacher, and
he
perhaps can show you. I can do no more for you.'

‘But madam...' Valerie's voice caught on a sob. She could not believe her esteemed coach and teacher, to whom she was utterly devoted, was just casually dismissing her like this, as though there were no personal feelings between them at all.

‘What is it, my girl?' Madame Stryker asked.

‘I - I don't want to leave my teacher.' Valerie was appalled to find herself on the verge of tears. She had never felt so upset, not even after losing an important match.

‘Then tell me what it means to you to be filled,' madame urged.

Valerie glanced back at her in confusion, tears shining in her lovely, candid eyes. All she could think about was that her teacher was coldly dismissing her. ‘What do you mean, madam?'

‘You have a boyfriend, don't you?' the older woman demanded. ‘His name is Lorain, I believe?'

Valerie's face went crimson with embarrassment. Could she possibly mean...?

‘Don't you get filled up by him, Valerie?'

‘I... I don't know what you mean, madam,' she replied shyly.

‘Do you want me to teach you what I mean, Valerie?'

‘P-please, madam.' Anything was better than being sent away by her beloved teacher to continue her training with a complete stranger.

‘Then take off your tracksuit bottoms,' Madame Stryker commanded briskly, ‘as well as your top and your vest. I want you in just your shoes and socks.'

Valerie began to obey at once.

‘You haven't had his cock?' Madame Stryker demanded again as she watched the young woman slip her tracksuit bottoms down her legs, her old eyes on the sweet blonde bush that bloomed into view.

‘No, madam.' Valerie's cheeks blushed red as blood oranges, and her pert little nose turned pink beneath her freckles. ‘I just let him... I just let him touch me,' she confessed in a barely audible voice.

‘He probably contents himself with your beautiful breasts, doesn't he?'

‘Yes... but sometimes he... he touches me... down there.' She pulled off her vest and her magnificent bosom sprung into view. Her nipples were erect; she was enjoying being forced to tell madame all her secrets.

‘Do you want a male teacher, Valerie?' madame asked the girl who was now standing naked before her except for her tennis shoes and socks, her hands crossed demurely between her thighs.

‘I only want you, madam,' she replied, looking into her teacher's hard eyes as her own big blue eyes watered sincerely.

‘Then look at this,' madame said, and pointed down ambiguously.

Valerie's eyes followed her teacher's hand, but she could see nothing but the older woman's long black skirt, which bulged a little strangely in the front.

‘On your knees, girl,' madame's voice cracked with feeling, ‘and you will see what I mean.'

Valerie sank to her knees before the long skirt, which her teacher grasped in both hands and began lifting with the slow drama of a curtain rising in the theatre. And what was revealed was not just madame's legs, which were surprisingly well-honed and firm despite her age, but also something black and shiny that hung down just beneath the hem of the skirt.

‘Oh!' the girl breathed. ‘What is
that
?'

‘Lift my skirt and you will see, my dear.'

Valerie hesitated a moment, and then gingerly reached out and lifted the hem of the skirt up away from the shiny black thing. And then she found herself gazing raptly at her old teacher's still blonde and fragrant pubic hair beneath the tight black leather straps holding the dildo in place. The latex penis was nearly ten inches long and thrust obscenely into the girl's face. ‘W-what is it?' she breathed again in awe, scarcely able to believe what she saw.

‘It is what will prevent you from having to leave me for a male teacher,' madame replied. ‘Open your mouth, my dear.'

‘You want me to...?' Valerie's eyes widened incredulously.

‘Open your mouth,' madame insisted.

Valerie opened her mouth. The tool was enormous, and tasted, surprisingly, not of rubber but of butter. She realised the smooth black cock-head had been smeared with butter as it breached the barrier of her teeth and kept going, reaching for her throat as madame pushed the long black rubber dick into her mouth.

‘Relax your jaw and let it down into your throat, girl. Are you starting to get the idea now what being filled is?'

Valerie's strangled cries responded in the affirmative as madame slowly began fucking her mouth, moving the latex shaft in and out between Valerie's stretched lips as she struggled to breathe. She was beginning to choke when madame finally eased the cool black cock out of her mouth and asked, ‘Are you ready to really learn now?'

‘Learn what, madame?' She coughed as she swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in the back of her mouth as she swallowed the big rubber cock. And now she realised that sucking on it had made her want something, even though she couldn't say what exactly.

‘Go up to my bedroom,' madame ordered, ‘and lie on the bed on your front.'