The Nurse's Uniform Pt. 07

This is a story about doctors and nurses, and a few other people. It is a long story, a complicated story and a fucking horny story, even if I do say so myself. It was horny to me writing it and I hope it will be as horny for you reading it.

I am planning to present the story to Lit in a series of parts over the next few months, so you will have something to read as we go through autumn. I wonder how far we will have got before winter sets in?

If you have come straight to this part, I would strongly suggest you read Part 1 first.

The story revolves around sex in many forms. The theme of it is how a doctor treats people who are, in one way or another, sexually dysfunctional, so on one level it is a medical story. All the characters in the story who are not his patients, however, are as equally sexually dysfunctional somehow, so on another level it is pure erotica. On yet another level the story looks at how clothing promotes, influences, affects and conditions sexual behaviour; there are lots of descriptions of sexy nurses uniforms and ladies panties.

I really hope you enjoy what may well be my magnum opus and possibly my last submission to Literotica. Do let me know won't you?

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Chapter 1

Roni was depressed. Nothing that unusual in that, for she was often depressed, some would say she was always depressed. But this was different; it was not one of the usual topics that was depressing her. It wasn't her lank, mousy hair, her droopy 36 d tits, her sturdy thighs, biggish bum or podgy tum. It wasn't the fact that she couldn't find a real boy friend and that she had a series of short-term relationships, usually ending with them ditching her. It wasn't even the fact that Sammi had gone away, although she would willingly have scratched the eyes out of her scrawny, flat-chested, posh best friend. It was, oddly enough, because she had landed a part.

Roni had slept with or, had given blow jobs to most of the BBC TV and other TV production companies casting directors, the male ones that is; the female ones hadn't wanted blow jobs. And to a large extent that had got her nowhere. Sure a few bits and pieces here and there, the odd play in out of the way reps, walk on parts in TV commercials and several non-speaking extra parts in TV films and some soaps. But in the main her "self-promotion" hadn't met with much success. Then out of the blue a part, a real part, a speaking part, in a soap, a national soap. Ok it was afternoons, the viewers were probably mostly brain dead and fully of eighty year old Aunty Mavises and Uncle Humphs, but it was a pukka part.

So why had that depressed her? She had seen the fucking briefing sheet sent out to agents when she attended the audition.

"Plump girl going to seed" was how the writer described the requirement.

That's what got to her. Not long ago she had been a sex goddess, now a plump girl going to seed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, she had screamed, when she put the phone down on Allen Green her dodgy, seedy agent.

As she usually did when depressed, Roni went on a bender and got monumentally pissed. That was for about two days. After that she needed something different, something more. Sammi was away with the titless bitch so a fuck with her ideal woman wasn't on, so she phoned Preston Marcombe.

He was a forty something, not very successful "Shakespearian" actor who never actually got any work doing the Bard's stuff. He had got really lucky in a bit part that had led to a TV series where he had made stacks of money, for it was a worldwide, one-off hit. To him, though, it was a derisory series and was nowhere as high brow as he considered himself to be, but he invested the money well, and had hardly worked since, but then he didn't need to for one of his investments had been in a dotcom company that had also made him a fortune.

He was probably married, but refused to talk about his personal life, so Roni wasn't sure. She didn't actually care, though she pretended to, for his sake. Being the "successful actor" he considered himself to be and how he portrayed himself, Preston had a country home, in Gloucestershire, near Jilly Cooper and Prince Charles he would say, and a flat in town; actually quite a nice one, in Hampstead, of course.

It was there that he shagged Roni, there that he abused and demeaned her, tied her up, spanked her and did all manner of things to her that most reasonable women would have objected to. Roni, not being a reasonable woman, took all he could give and came back for more. Just as she was now.

"Come round at nine this evening wearing that grey dress I bought you when I took you to that party and gave you to my friends to fuck," he told her.

"Yes Preston," she meekly replied. "Anything else?" Meaning any other instructions or arrangements.

"No, just shoes, be totally naked under it. I assume you can still get into it?" He asked rubbing salt into her wounds of excessive flesh.

Roni had been seeing Preston for a couple of years after meeting him at an acting workshop he gave. He captivated her with his mature, thespian looks and assuring, confident manner and fucked behind the stage with his long, thin dick, less than an hour after they had met.

He wasn't actually that good shag, she often thought and, going further, sometimes felt he wasn't that interested in penetrative sex. Often, especially in the early days when they saw each frequently, he would lick or finger her to a climax then have her suck him off or he would cum on her big juicy tits. He liked that, but then so did she. Slowly, though, their experiences got weirder, or more adventurous dependent on your viewpoint. Adventurous, if you think that is him making her cum in restaurants and weird, if you feel that him making her pick up a guy in a bar and giving him a BJ as Preston looked on, is a bit pervy.

With sex, Roni had come to see, you pays your money and you takes your choice; it was all part of being an actress, well a fairly unsuccessful one at least. So she had taken her choice with him and that's why she had dressed up as a schoolgirl, bent over when he told her, let him roll her short skirt up and her full white knickers down and then squirmed, moaned, cried out and finally cum as he spanked her bum. She had paid her money when he tied her up and ran feathers over her until she nearly, but not quite, climaxed. Then he had wanked on her tits and had left her there sticky and smelling as he went out to dinner.

There had been many other incidents similar to these. Incidents that many, most really, women would hate, but which for some reason did a lot for Roni. She was, she had concluded a clear submissive with a very high need to be abused and demeaned. She was also, she often smiled, a perfect example of a patient for Sammi's flash doctor; there were only two issues with that. Firstly she couldn't afford him and secondly it didn't worry her.

So she pulled the pale grey, silky dress out from the back of her wardrobe. It was a simple dress. Vee necked, buttons all the way down the front, three inches above the knee, pulled in, tightly at the waist and flowing nicely over the flair of the hips and bum. Well that was the theory and how it used to be, Roni thought looking at herself in the mirror in the hall where Sammi dried her hair. It was a vastly different vision when she looked this time though. Gone was the demure, golden blonde clad just in a towel. In its place was an overweight, straggly haired woman in a too tight dress that fitted her badly. Between each button there were gaps where the lapels pulled apart and through which Roni's skin was on view. Her tits were spilling out of it and her cleavage looked like a deep crevice that a man could lose his face in. The material moulded itself round each breast riding over her, always, pronounced nipples, but which now were so evident, and yes of course, she said to herself, were hardening as she looked at herself. Fucking exhibitionist as well, she smiled, cupping her tits and running her hands over them. She knew she would wank before this fitting was over.

Her arse didn't look too bad, big sure, but a good shape, it was her tum. That bulged, sod it, sod it, sod it, she thought, wishing she had stayed on that diet, but then realised she would have not got the part if she hadn't been a plump girl going to seed would she?

So she said, "fuck it" took the dress off and masturbated looking at herself in the mirror.

As it happened, and Roni was completely aware of this, Preston liked bigger women. He had shown her some photos of what he termed BBWs. Against them Roni was a mere whisp of a woman.

She was on her way to the flat by bus wearing a light coat over the dress when she got a call on her mobile.

"Make it The Crown in Haverstock Hill instead," Preston said, not introducing himself, saying hello or goodbye.

She walked into the pub. It was crowded, but then it was Friday night. She couldn't see him so went to the bar and ordered a vodka and water. Although she was a ballsy girl and used to being single, but then plump girls going to seed are, she was always a little embarrassed in pubs. After all they are good pulling joints and in Hampstead you did sometimes get working girls and Roni didn't really like being mistaken for one.

"Where the hell is the sod?" she asked herself looking around, sipping her drink and feeling the warmth of the pub getting to her. She wished she hadn't worn the coat, but then she had to, she couldn't possibly take it off.

Nothing happened for ten minutes or so, apart from her finishing her drink, having two guys offer to buy her one, another couple making eyes at her and her becoming hotter and hotter.

Her phone rang.

"Warm are you?" Preston asked.

"Fucking boiling, where are you?"

"I told you to just wear the dress."

"I am."

"No you aren't."

Roni lowered her voice as much as she could and still felt he would hear her over the noise in the bar.

"I am Preston, I'm not wearing panties or bra."

"You've got a fucking coat on," he boomed down the phone."

"Yes well I have to."

"No you don't, you stupid cunt."

"I do Preston."

"I told you that you don't, so don't."

"Don't what?"

"Wear the fucking coat you dumb cunt. Take it off"

"I can't."

"You can and you will, now do as you are told and take the fucking thing off."

"Please Preston, no."

"Take it off."

"I really can't"

"OK, just open it then."

"Where are you?"

"Mind your own business and do as I tell you."

"Let me go outside?"

"No stay there and now undo that fucking coat, you are getting on my tits you stupid, fat slag."

Roni's fingers were trembling as she undid the top two buttons.

"Mmm nice tits, love the cleavage." He said down the phone.

She looked around, "where the hell are you?"

"Undo more buttons."

Looking around Roni saw that a few guys were looking at her. Was it the actress in her or the actor she wanted to be in her? Was it her outgoing theatrical nature or her sexually induced exhibitionism? She didn't know, but suddenly her strongest feelings were not shyness, fear, apprehension and embarrassment but excitement, arousal and sheer fucking horniness.

She undid all the buttons. She stood facing the bar and occasionally side on, she couldn't bring herself to turn her back to it and face her audience full on.

"That's better, that's nice," he said. "See their eyes Roni, see them looking? Like that do you? Like all these guys looking at your big tits and fat gut? Do you like that?"

"Yes, yes Preston I do like it."

"You like them imagining you with that dress off don't you?"

"Yes I do."

"Imagining them seeing you naked, your huge tits hanging down and your belly sticking out."

"Yes."

"You know most of them think you're a hooker don't you?"

"No, I didn't"

"Well they do and they want to fuck you, but don't think you're worth paying for."

"Oh Preston don't please. Stop it"

"Don't tell me what to do, you fucking slag, you stinking whore, you dirty fucking cunt."

"Sorry Preston, I shouldn't have said that."

"No you shouldn't, right, so undo the rest of the coat, turn your back to the bar and let your audience see you, all of you, you fat cow."

Suddenly it didn't seem impossible, embarrassing or awkward, now it was the obvious thing to do and she wanted to. With the phone cradled between her neck and shoulder, still facing the bar, Roni as surreptitiously as possible slipped the remaining buttons undone. She glanced down just to make sure that the pressure on the buttons from the ridiculous tightness of the dress hadn't popped any and then slowly turned round.

The looks on the men's' faces as they stared at her made her feel fantastic. It also made her feel cheap, sluttish, demeaned and abused, and she fucking well loved it. She leaned back against the bar and slowly lifted her glass towards her mouth, very aware that would stretch the dress even more, making it gape further and show more of her skin.

It was then that she saw Preston walking towards her. He strode right up to her, grabbed by her arm and started pulling her towards the door. Roni managed to put her glass on the bar before he hauled her off towards the door saying loud enough for many of the people in the bar to hear.

"Come on you slag, I have told you loads of times not to flash your big tits and bulging gut in public."

Outside, he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.

"That was awesome Roni, you were great," he whispered cupping one of her boobs as his tongue slid into her mouth.

It was moments like that, which made the abuse and degradation so satisfying, at least to Roni.

Chapter 2

It had been a long time since Mike had had one woman sitting astride his face as another sucked his cock, Mike was thinking. It had been an equally long time since he had been with two such enthusiastic girls and just as long since he had been in a threesome where the hookers really appeared to enjoy it.

He had actually felt quite embarrassed as Emma made the arrangements over the phone with the two girls. She kept glancing at him and smiling as she told whoever was on the other end of the phone where to come and the time.

"Make it in about an hour and yes," Emma said, pausing and looking right at Mike as she went on. "Give him the very best service, do anything he wants. Ok that'll be fine I know you will." She listened for a moment. "Stay as long as he wants you to, I doubt I shall be home tonight." She put the phone down.

"Er thanks Emma, thank you," Mike muttered.

"You're very welcome,"

She fussed around in her bag and popped in and out of the living room as she finished getting ready to go to see Abdullah. She doubted they would actually shag, but for sure she would, at the very least, masturbate him and possibly give him a blow job. He did have difficulty holding an erection and due to his heart condition couldn't take a stimulant such as Viagra so Emma had to work very hard. She didn't mind though. After all it was purely due to him that she was rich and about to get significantly richer from the clinic project. She had learned early on that you have to pay, one way or another, for everything you get in this world. And if that meant wanking or sucking an old man who had helped her so much, c'est la vie.

"I don't think you have seen my bedroom have you Mike?" Emma asked as she breezed back into the lounge.

He smiled. "No, I haven't had that pleasure."

"Come on then, this way?"

He followed her past the kitchen to an area of the villa where he had never been. He couldn't take his eyes off her arse, for in the tight dress her wiggle was emphasised and the soft roundness of her cheeks accentuated. She led him up a short flight of stairs where his face was at the same level as the deliciously wobbling cheeks. It seemed so fucking stupid to him now. All this bollocks about not mixing pleasure and business, not dipping your pen in company ink and the like. Seeing the glorious, soft roundness of Emma's bum, with each cheek beautifully defined just inches from his face, made him want to grab her, shove her dress up round her waist, pull the cheeks apart and bury his face between them. And that was just a starter before he then fucked her several times on the bed that was now right before them.

Emma was actually feeling very much the same. Whilst her earlier efforts at seducing him had been purely business, she had come to really fancy the English doctor, which was rare for her nowadays.

"My bedroom." She said simply standing by the door as he walked past his arm just inches from her breasts.

"Very nice too, but are you sure we should use this?"

"We?" Emma replied smiling, her heart beating a little faster as the image of being naked on the bed with him came into her mind.

"Well the two girls and me," Mike replied hardly believing that he was talking to her about a threesome with two escort girls, men just didn't do that, they never really admitted that they paid for it.

"Oh I see." She said softly, her gaze catching his.

"Yes," was all Mike could say by way of a reply. He wanted her so much, words failed him.

"Yes?" Emma repeated, putting the emphasis on the question, thinking that he was changing his mind. She followed him into the room, suggestively, he thought, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it. Recovering her composure, a little, and realising that there was no way she could have sex with him even if was up for it as she was already going to be late for Abdullah who, unlike most Saudis was particular about time, she went on. "Of course use it, do whatever you wish, I'll stay out the night, so they can sleep with you if you like."

"It really is kind Emma," Mike said glancing at her breasts that seemed to be straining against the material of her dress.

"But then maybe I won't stay out all night," she said cheekily as she opened the door again. "Maybe I'll come home and join you."

"Jesus, don't say such things, I couldn't handle you after the two girls."

"Well be careful for I might say how about before then?"

He stared at her, a serious look on his face. Mike was struggling, he knew that. He was in a quandary. Very softly he replied.

"And if you don't watch out I might just say yes."

"Hmmmm, really Mike?"

"Yes Emma, really."

"Well we agreed you don't do that so enjoy my gift of Simoo and Kimah. And as you fuck them, think of me. And then she was gone. She had to for if she had stayed, she would have broken her vow, which was not to fuck for lust, but for purpose.

The girls were simply beautiful. Slightly taller than Mike remembered most of the women were when he had been to Bangkok and Phuket and certainly curvier, they had that dusky, serene, big-eyed look so typical of Thai people. They had arrived together wearing long loose robes similar to that which Emma had worn. They made the little bows that Orientals place so much emphasis upon when he opened the door and showed them in. They smiled and said how pleased they were to meet him. They then pulled the long robes over their heads and off, hanging them in a wardrobe in the hallway, indicating to Mike that they knew their way around the villa, perhaps from other jobs, he wondered?

They were wearing matching cheongsams. Red silk, with slits up the sides from the hem just above their knees to their hips, they fitted them like gloves. The beautiful dresses not only emphasised their slimness, but also their curves. They looked fantastic and Mike could feel the stirrings as he looked at them.

He offered them drinks, which they refused. He tried chatting, but soon learned that their grasp of English was limited. He wanted to get going, but didn't know how. It was odd, two paid for girls who were his to do with as he wished and he felt shy. He didn't know what to do.