From Blushes Uniform Girls 8
‘I shall have to body search you, Miss.’
The young nurse, in her pale blue uniform with white collar and cuffs, took a step back from the caretaker. Anger as well as fear flickered in her blue eyes.
‘You? Body search me?’ She regarded the paunchy, middle-aged figure with the utmost distaste.
‘That’s right, Miss. Sister’s orders. Anyone coming from the Store Room at this time of night has to be searched.
‘By you? I don’t believe it!’
‘Perhaps you’d prefer I took you straight down to the station then, Miss. Then some nice lady copper can search you. But I must warn you, they take a rather serious view of drug stealing.’
Fear now overwhelmed the anger in those blue eyes. Colour mounted slowly in soft cheeks. ‘O-oh… you wouldn’t do that!’
‘And why not, might I ask? Sister has informed me that two lots of diamorphine have been missing from the drugs cabinet in the last fortnight. And diamorphine is just another way of saying heroin. Oh yes, it’s serious alright.’ George Beamish was bubbling inwardly. She must have got it on her, he said to himself. Otherwise she would already have told him to go to Hell — or would have been quite happy to go down to the station. Wicked little bitch, yet she looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. He nodded towards the locker room on the opposite side of the passageway. ‘In there, I think, Miss.’
The colour in those cheeks deepened. ‘Oh…oh how can you do this to me? It…it’s not r-right…’
‘Orders,’ said George brusquely. ‘And you’ve got a nerve, young lady, telling me what’s right and wrong. In you go.’ He felt his nerves tingle as the girl brushed past him. This was going to be a bit of alright. He closed the door and turned the key… seeing her begin to look really scared. ‘I reckon they could well give you five years for drug-stealing,’ he said. ‘Maybe more, since you’re in a responsible position.’
‘Oh no!’ It was a wail. She covered her face with her hands.
‘I think I’ll have the keys first,’ said George. He could see them outlined in her pocket and deftly snatched them out. ‘Clever of you to get these copied, Miss. Like to tell me how you managed it?’
‘No!’ She almost spat the word out.
‘Alright then. I expect I’ll find out sooner or later. Name of White, isn’t it? Sandra White? Probation Nurse?’
‘You seem to know it all…’
‘I make it my business,’ said George solemnly. ‘Take off that uniform.’
Blue eyes blazed. ‘I w-won’t!’
‘OK. Then I’ll take it off for you. Or take you down to the station. I mean it, girl.’
With a sudden movement, the girl pushed her hands up under her skirt and, a moment or two later, withdrew them, holding a small white box. Pushed the stuff into her knickers, thought George.
‘Here you are then,’ she said. ‘Now let me out of here!’
George sat down on one of the bench seats, took out a battered oblong tin and began to roll himself a cigarette. ‘So you think that’s all there is to it, do you, Sandra?’ It was rather nice to use her name like that. Sort of intimate.
‘What do you mean?’ Cheeky and defiant, for all her meek and mild looks.
‘I mean,’ said George slowly. ‘That having stolen drugs and got caught, you’re going to get away with it scot free. That’s what you think?’
‘Well… I…I’ve given them back.’ The girl looked uneasy. As well she might.
‘Not quite the point,’ said George, lighting a thin, wrinkled cigarette.
‘What are you going to do about it then?’
George expelled a stream of evil-smelling smoke. ‘I,’ he said, ‘am going to smack your bottom so hard you won’t be able to tell the difference between Christmas and Easter…’
‘W-what? Are you crazy?’
‘Sister’s idea,’ said George complacently. And untruthfully, of course. ‘Thought it might be better than bringing in the Law. Give the Hospital a bad name, that would.’
‘I…I won’t let you…’ The girl made a dash for the door but George, surprisingly agile for a man of his size, was quick to bar her way. He took the key from the lock and put it in his pocket.
‘A good smack bottom is better than five years in jail,’ he said. ‘I think you’d agree on that, Sandra.’
Once more the girl buried her face in her hands and now it was she who sat down on the bench seat, beginning to sob quietly. ‘ Oh… mmmff… oh… mmmff… I wish I hadn’t d-done it… mmmmfff… Oh I wish I hadn’t…’
‘I bet you do,’ said George. He rubbed his hands together with something like relish. It wasn’t every day a man got to smacking an 18-year-old’s bottom! ‘Still, it’s done… and you’ve got to pay for it. I’ll have that uniform off now.’
It took Sandra White over five minutes to comply with George’s instructions. Not surprisingly, for she was a rather shy girl. It would have been bad enough before any stranger, male or female, but alone in that place with this horrible old man (as she thought of him) it was far, far worse. George, however, was alternately persuasive and threatening, as well as being imaginatively descriptive of the inside of a woman’s prison.
‘Those places are run by dykes, so they tell me,’ he said at one point. ‘Not very nice for a young lady like you to have to do what they say. There’s no way out.’
‘Lesbians,’ said George in a matter-of-fact way, seeing the girl shudder.
‘I…I don’t know what you mean…’
‘I think you do, Sandra. Now, don’t try my patience any longer. Get that uniform off.’ How simple a uniform it was, he thought, yet how charming in its own way, especially when clinging to such a budding figure.
‘Must I? Oh my God… must I?’
‘Yes… if you know what’s good for you.’
George watched with mounting pleasure as the disrobing began. A belt unfastened; buttons undone. Then, to a great deal of sobbing, the uniform pulled up and over the head. Oh my God, those lovely thighs! And those tight little white briefs! Superb. The apple-round breasts were held in a white-net bra. Delicious. Oh look at those rosy-pink nipples poking! Enchanting.
The pale blue and white uniform fell to the floor and Sandra hung her head, folding her arms across her thrusting breasts. ‘Th-this… is… is… oh my God… it’s outrageous…’
‘How about stealing heroin? Destroying young peoples’ lives? Isn’t that outrageous?’ The girl remained silent… and George reckoned he had proved his point. Moreover, and even more exciting, he felt he had got her going his way. Prepared to accept the punishment he proposed, rather than face a court and a certain prison sentence. How marvellous it was going to be to wallop her just as hard as he liked. They were down in the basement of the hospital; no one would hear no matter how much she yelled. And he certainly intended to make her yell.
‘This… th-this is… is indecent assault… I c-could have the Law on you…’
George simply couldn’t help laughing. ‘Try it, Sandra, and see where it gets you. Straight into that prison run by dykes!’ He really had got her in the palm of his hand, had he not? Pure heaven. ‘Come here, my girl. I’m going to give you what you deserve!’
‘Oh no… please… no… no…ooo!’ He sensed that she still didn’t really believe that he was going to do it. That, somehow, she would get off. That the unthinkable couldn’t happen. Not to her.
Dear oh dear, how mistaken she was!
‘I told you to come here.’ George had now re-seated himself on the bench, his acrid cigarette expunged. He watched, pulse throbbing, as the girl moved towards him. What a ripe, young body. He hadn’t seen anything resembling it for ages. What a little darling! So foolish to behave as she had done. So suitably spankable. He didn’t even give a damn if Sister did hear of it. Wasn’t he about to save the hospital’s good name?
Then she was close. He caught the young female scent of her. Saw her shivering shame and fear. His loins seemed to be aglow. He grabbed her. Felt the warm, resilient softness. Heard her shriek. Hauling her down over his thighs. Feeling her struggle, seeing her kick. Oh… lovely!
‘You are a criminal, Sandra White. I hope you realise that.’ George felt his throat tight, his voice thick. Do you realise, also, Sandra White, he said to himself, that you have the most seductively smackable bottom imaginable? So plumply curving. Round, creamy buttock cheeks. With those tiny white briefs clinging.
‘You b-be…east… you beast!’
Oh yes, the girl was quite distraught. It was understandable. First, caught in the act. Nasty that. Then finding herself locked in a room with a middle-aged old perv like himself. And having to submit to what he wanted! No wonder she was distraught.
‘Would you like to take your knickers off? Or shall I do it for you?’
‘Stoo…ppppppp it… I c-can’t bear it!’
‘Can’t bear what, Sandra? I haven’t started yet.’ George gazed down avidly at the swelling curves right before him. Curves divided by a deep cleft. Never, he thought, could any man have looked upon a more delectable dish. Yes… dish was the right word… for that young bottom looked positively eatable. All the same, on this occasion, it was not going to be eaten. It was going to be slapped and slapped until it was oven-hot!
‘I asked you a question. Are you going to take your knickers off?’
‘Stoo….oooopppp… you can’t do this… to… m-me!’
‘Oh well.’ George sighed. ‘Since you won’t do it, I must.’ And with that, he didn’t pull those little briefs down but ripped them off in one single movement.
There it was. The girl’s bottom. Quite naked. Soft and quivering. Helplessly awaiting his hand. Oh my God, what a spanking he was going to give her! And, he thought joyfully, with the evidence he had in his possession, that would just be the beginning of it. Ravishing vistas undulated into the distance.
‘You bastard… ooohhh… I’ll kill you for… for this…’
Once again George couldn’t help himself laughing. ‘Is that so, my dear child, is that so…’
Then he began to smack the bared bottom presented helpless before him. Left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, centre. Left cheek, right cheek, centre. Oh the joy of that! The exquisite feel of it! How she yelled, how she squirmed and kicked! Again… again… again…again! Now there wasn’t just the shame of it — the shame of naked exposure — now there was the pain of it — the pain produced by a broad palm hardened on account of years of labouring work.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
‘Yee… aaggg… stop it for God’s sake… that’s enough!’
George grinned contentedly. ‘Silly girl,’ he said, ‘I’ve only just started on you. Tonight you’re going to learn what a good spanking feels like!’
His broad palm rose and fell with resounding force.
Again! Again! Again!
That plumply curvaceous bottom was changing from pink to red. In some areas it was almost violet. Sandra, still threshing and kicking wildly, continued to shriek without restraint. Never in her life had she thought she would experience such pain. Never imagined such pain possible! In a mind ablaze with pain, it flashed upon her that a long prison sentence would be preferable.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Her voice was hoarse with screeches and unheeded pleas. It couldn’t go on! It couldn’t! Yet it did…
Smack! Smack! Smack!
George’s plump cheeks were beginning to get as highly coloured as Sandra’s bottom. His chest was heaving, his breath rasping. Yet, such was his delight, he could not bring himself to stop. Would he ever again be able to smack an 18-year-old’s bottom? Maybe… but unlikely. So, get on with it.
She was no longer pleading. Just making squealing sounds. Hyena-like sounds. Still squirming madly, though. Bottom all a-judder. And oh, what a bottom it was!
George suddenly felt a sort of swimmy sensation and, at the same time, realised that even his hardened palm felt red-hot. He stopped slapping that lovely young bottom and slumped forward, breathing heavily, mouth slackly open. He did not know it, but he made quite a disgusting spectacle.
His hands and fingers began to fumble lasciviously between that hot and throbbing cleft. Sandra, weak, sobbing and moaning, became suddenly galvanised. She spun upwards and, with the last remnants of her strength, smashed a fist into George’s face.
‘That was unwise, Sandra…’ George had calmed down since the end of the spanking — some ten minutes ago. Sandra was standing in another row of cubicles, her hands pressing to her pulsating buttock cheeks. How could such pain be? ‘I still have the evidence.’
An icicle of terror went through Sandra’s brain. It did not compensate for the roaring furnace of her bottom. She sobbed, feeling dirty and defeated. George listened contentedly.
‘I want to see you here same time next week,’ he said. He stood up, keeping his voice loud and firm. ‘No arguments, girl! I haven’t finished with you yet. Not by a long chalk.’ The sobbing was still going on. A hopeless kind of sobbing. Very girlish. ‘Understand me, Sandra? Same time, same place, next week. Or else!’
Sobbing, sobbing, sobbing…
George unlocked the door and strolled down the echoing corridor. It seemed to him that he was on to a very good thing.Very… as he walked away his thoughts were already on next week’s session…