In spite of her handicaps, she managed to take my garments as I stripped and fold them neatly on a table.In spite of her handicaps, she managed to take my garments as I stripped and fold them neatly on a table. She worked under a constant stream of abuse, physical and verbal, from the bitch in the transparent uniform. Her huge breasts shuddered under the blows, and tears rolled continuously from under her blue-shaded lids. The bitch-nurse was very polite to me while mistreating her slave. When I was down to my blue satin bra, corset, and panties, she stopped me and introduced herself. "Welcome to Paradise Lodge, Donna, my name is Helene," she said, rhyming her name with "remain." Her expression was neutrally pleasant; she hadn't smiled, yet. "I'm the head nurse, and this is Beatrice. She's in training. The doctor will be in later to examine you. Has Mrs. Whittaker explained our medical procedures?" "No," I answered, sitting down beside her on a padded bench. I was confident and cool in my blue undies. Beatrice, the slave-nurse, stood before us ready for more abuse. She shuffled her weight on her obviously painful shoes, which generated a soft, steady tinkling from her earrings. |