Join the Dots…

From Uniform Girls 18. A continuation of St Probyn’s Penitentiary. Join the Dots stories were a regular feature in the Blushes stable of magazines, the concept being that you had to imagine bondage restraints in the pictures (and text) because picturing such things was banned at the time.

‘In here. Nurse Taylor.’

Mrs Jarrett ushering her in. A little room like the others; like her own room where yesterday Mr Canfield had caned her; and the other one where Mr Linford had examined her. This room had just a bed, no table or chair. No covers on the bed, only the bare mattress with a white sheet stretched over. At the head of the bed the tubular framework had been swung out, forward, to rest on the mattress, the way it was put for a patient who had to be supported at an angle.

‘Mr Canfield will be in shortly.’ Mrs Jarrett’s business-like voice. ‘Meanwhile you can get undressed. Take your uniform off, and your knickers. You can leave the rest on if you wish. As long as there is access…

Mrs Jarrett went out. Closing the door. Teresa looked at the bed and took a deep breath. It reminded her of that business with Mr Linford. Except that bed had been normally set up, not with a sloping frame like this one Her mind ran over what Mrs Jarrett had said. The precise words.

Hands at her belt. They all had it, whatever it was. All Probationers had to come here for two weeks and whatever Mr Canfield was going to do must have happened to other girls. Like that caning yesterday that made her feel sick even to think about. He wasn’t going to cane her again? No. Please God not another one like that. And Mr Linford… Thinking again of those last words of Mrs Jarrett. Don’t think. Just do what she said. Get your uniform off. And knickers. Don’t give him any excuse. You had to obey instructions.

There were four other Probationers here — or that was the number that appeared for supper yesterday and breakfast this morning, with Mrs Jarrett sitting at the head of the table But you couldn’t find anything out because there was no talking allowed at meals. Or anywhere else it seemed. After supper (not very nice stew) it had been back to your room, do an hour’s study of the Nursing Manual and then get into bed. ‘You will need plenty of sleep,’ Mrs Jarrett had said.

Why? What did you have to do? What were they going to do to you? Mr Canfield. Mr Linford. Anyone else. What was Mr Canfield going to do now?

Teresa had stripped off, as Mrs Jarrett had told her. Down to bra, nylons, suspender-belt, high-heels. She had just taken her knickers off when the door opened. Her heart began making wild bumps. But he didn’t have it in his hand. That had been her main fear, that cane. Instead Mr Canfield was carrying a black leather bag. There was no cane… but what was in the bag?

She was standing, trembling, with her knickers still in her hand, held in front of her. Mr Canfield took the knickers, and told her to stand in the corner with her hands on her head. Numbly she obeyed. He gave her a hard stare, grunted, and went out. Teresa’s wide eyes focussed on the black leather bag left on the floor.

Mr Canfield was only gone a minute and then he was back. ‘Right, Nurse, shall we start? Get on the bed please.’

Kneeling on a pillow with her upper body supported against the bare metal frame. ‘Bend your head right over. Right down. Grip as far down as you can. And spread your knees.’

It was a position reminiscent of that required by Mr Linford. She wasn’t upside-down but the way her legs were spread… Mr Canfield was opening his bag. Something. She couldn’t really see. Something metal? Shaped like a…? Teresa’s mouth opened. Mr Canfield’s precise voice. ‘Just relax, Nurse. It doesn’t hurt, not if you relax. Relax everything.’ She made a ‘Nnnggghhh’ sound. His hands. Sliding up her sensitive inner thighs. And then… that…

‘Keep relaxed. Legs nice and wide…’