The Night Nurse

I wake up slowly; my eyes blurred. My vision is impaired whilst my eyes try to focus on something; the room is dark, small shadows flicker from the monitoring equipment. Slowly, my mind groggy, I gradually become aware of what is happening, remembering the events of the day, despite my drug induced haze; where I am. I try to move, fidget but find moving difficult, talking, practically impossible. I hear the beeps of the heart rate monitor increase, together with the monitors that measures my brain activity. The nurse enters the room, having been alerted by the remote sensors. She is checking me over, talking softly, and removing the bed covers fussing with the dressings, all the time talking to me, saying sweet things; asking if I can't sleep and the like. She is aware that I am conscious even though unable to reply; she continues to talk to me as she carries out her duties. This carries on for several minutes... She turns to me, aware that I can see that I can appreciate what's happening, but still I am unable to respond.

Slowly she turns to face me, a soft smile up on her lips as she begins to talk to me again. She tells me that she has moments like that, times when she can't sleep, and what her best cure for insomnia is.

"I found that the best cure for insomnia is a good climax Miranda."

"I don't know if you've ever done it to get to sleep? I guess you have. Maybe we should try now? Shall we give it a try Miranda?" As she finishes talking, I feel her pull back the sheet; my bedclothes, exposing my night dress, making me feel cold, exposed.

Not sure if I heard her right, understood her right, a shiver of shock traverses my spine as my eyes open wide with shock, disbelief. As I become aware that she has hitched up my night dress, feeling the cool air on my thighs and on my mound. Suddenly I feel open, vulnerable and exposed my understanding of her intent starts to become clearer.

She sits on the side of the bed, her eyes, her gaze locked onto mine. I gasp, as I feel her fingers against my thigh. The touch is soft light delicate, as if a feather is being raked against my flesh. I feel my body respond, a shiver down my spine, my skin reacting as my skin becomes covered with goose pimples. My breathing quickens slightly, my feeling of being vulnerable increasing every time I feel her finger against my thigh, slowly softly moving higher.

My eyes open, I feel, see, a shadow moving towards my face, my face flinches as she cups my cheek. I feel her press her palm into my face. I hear her quietly talking.

"You are so pretty Miranda."

Her hands continue, feeling one against my cheek, the other close to my fanny, my mound. My thighs instinctively pressing together, trying to deter her, but this only seems to encourage her.

"Now Miranda, relax. Let's make you feel sleepy again Miranda."

Unable to cope, comprehend what is happening, my eyes close, still aware of her advances, her soft tender caresses.

My mind slowly realizes as she continues to softly touch, caress in her sensual manner; I realise that the only time I've ever felt like this is when I have caressed myself. When I've lain back in the pillows of my bed, or under the hot refreshing pick me up shower, wanting, needing to orgasm.

My thoughts are cast aside, my mind brought back to reality as I feel her breath on my flesh, short intense breaths, a strange smell a mixture of perfume and stale tobacco, before I feel a pair of lips on mine. The kiss is soft, brushing her lips against mine, feeling her tongue tip against my lips. I feel my body start to respond, despite fighting off those feelings, those caresses and their affect on my body.

Her tongue slowly parts my lips. I try, in vain to keep them closed. The harder I try, the more they open up to her, to her unwanted advances, my tongue tasting her lip balm. The kiss lingers on my lips, and I am unaware that she has pulled away, stood up.

"Miranda"

She catches my attention, her eyes staring at me as she slowly unzips her uniform, a wry smile appearing on her face. She exposes her shoulders as she slides the uniform onto the floor, and stands before me in her lingerie. Black in colour, the cups are sheer translucent, the outline of her areola clearly visible, as are her nipples, hard, prominent. Suddenly she is looking very dominant; her black sheer thong shows her neatly trimmed mound her legs muscular, yet shapely.

Caught in the flicker of light, she steps towards me.

My mind is in turmoil, scared, thoughts racing through my head, as I now understand, realise what she meant, earlier. I feel her breath on my legs, her lips on my breasts, as I wince, wanting her to stop, to leave me. She kisses me, caressing her breasts over my body, her mouth kissing, licking my neck, my chin; as her tongue touched my exposed breast, my nipple. I feel revulsion helplessness as she finds one of my more intense erogenous zones, but my body rebels under her relentless attack. My nipple becoming firm, my nerve endings alive, I squirm, squeal in anger; unable to resist as she abuses my sexuality. What is worse is that I feel my body responding, responding to her unwanted attention. She continues to gently kiss me, licking me, rubbing her breasts against my flesh, her fingers finding my mound, invading my inner privacy. My sexuality is making me aware of how aroused I am, yet I am scared, repulsed.

Her fingers are inside. I am aware of aroused I have become; how aroused she has made me. Her finger softly caresses my fanny, my pussy. I gasp as her fingertip finds my network of nerve endings. I feel her finger caress, massage, and her touch knowingly soft delicate, as she seems to know how to touch, to caress, to pleasure me. No male has had this effect on me.

My eyes open, and I am in disbelief, as she straddles my thigh, her bare fanny against my thigh. Her touch is cool, wet. I gasp; my mind realising she too has become aroused. Her finger still softly, delicately probing inside me further heightening my arousal. She presses down onto my thigh, short soft thrusts. She runs herself against my thigh, leaving a short trail of her arousal on my flesh.

Her pace quickens, on my thigh, on my G-spot.

My body shakes, convulses as my nerve endings become alive. My breathing is fast laboured, as my body enjoys the moment. My nipples prominent, aching, wanting, feeling the need to cup my own breasts, wanting to hold myself, needing to be held in this intimate of intimate moments.

She screams, gasps, her thigh grinds into me one final time...

As my body recovers from the intense orgasm, she dresses, asking if that was better, still under the effect of the drugs, I nod, feeling myself become sleepy. I'm almost unaware of her soft kiss before she departs, despite the kiss being soft, long, lingering, her tongue parting my lips albeit briefly.

The following morning, I'm unsure if it was a dream, a drug induced dream, or did it happen; did she really take advantage of me? I only realised a couple of days later, that it was not a dream. As I left, she asked if I had any problems sleeping in my stay, with a knowing content smile. I just looked at her, stunned that she has confessed to me, after betraying of my trust as she took advantage of me when I was unable to defend myself, resist. But I also remembered with a smile how sensual she was despite her domination. I had to smile as I remembered how intense, that pleasurable orgasm was. My eyes met hers briefly as I paused, before finally nodded, "yes thank you."

Authors Note:

The beginnings of this story can be found in my Rape essay also here on lit. I have had several requests to write it as a separate stand alone story. So here it is.

In my early 20s I was in hospital for minor surgery, and I did wake up from the operation in the middle of the night unable to sleep, and the night nurse did pay me a visit. However, the rest of the story was, is a fantasy of mine, preferably a fantasy that will stay as a fantasy. I hope you enjoyed it.

Miranda

June 08