Naughty Nurse's Bawdy Bedside Manner: A Case Study

I graduated with honors from a nursing school in Australia. I had lived most of my life in Australia, so I was thrilled when I was offered a great position as a civilian nurse in an American military hospital. What a brilliant start to my new life. A new career in a different country was an exciting prospect, especially because I was also now ready to begin having men worship me. From Down Under to up on top: in one neat move, I would make my debut as a nurse as well as my debut as a Mistress.

Seeing strong, well-built warriors lying in hospital beds, powerless and looking pitiful was an aphrodisiac to me. There were men from all branches of military service being dominated by Mistress Corrine. It was my goal to have these men sick with desire, willing to give their lives to me, not to their country. My uniform consisted of tight, short skirts with no underwear and revealing shirts with very flimsy bras. My most memorable conquest was a Marine, hospitalized due to a herniated groin. He was a foul-mouthed, misogynistic military policeman. His belief was that a woman was for fucking, and if the Marine Corps had wanted him to have a wife, they would have issued him one.

I vowed that within 72 hours, he would be begging me for a taste of my sweet pussy; by the end of his hospital stay, I would own the air he breathed. I made sure that for the first 48 hours he had only male nurses attending to him. He thought of himself as a ladies’ man and a real sex symbol. No contact with women for two days had him horny as a teenager. The afternoon I executed my plan, I wore my usual scanty uniform. I entered his room with a sly smile on my face. His eyes lit up when he saw my shapely form. My slim, athletic figure, toned thighs, and a uniform so tight and revealing that it almost looked painted on had his interest in a jiff. I carried with me the equipment to perform a sponge bath.

Not even his hernia surgery the day before could stop his cock from rising and throbbing with desire. My nipples tingled with anticipation, for I knew I was only minutes away from taking this Marine as mine. He lay in the bed naked, as I pretended not to notice his bulging cock. He made sexual comments about his manhood and how horny he was—all of which I ignored. Little did he know, this was naught but the beginning for him. As I moved about the room, he watched my every step, licking his lips in anticipation. This empowered me. I noticed his uniform draped over the chair. Being an MP, he carried handcuffs and a nightstick. Hmm, perfect tools for my trade. Quickly, I picked up the cuffs, and whilst he ogled my cleavage and tried to get a look at my naked pussy, I slipped the cuffs around his wrists and chained him to the bed, with his hands suspended above him.

He looked surprised at first, but the initial shock soon faded, and an uneasy, nervous expression crept onto his face as he twigged to his predicament. I could tell he had never been on the receiving end of such treatment. I began soaping his hard body but was careful not to touch anywhere near his huge cock. He was groaning and begging for me to pay attention to his cock. I made sure that he always had a full view of my shaven pussy or my hard nipples and breasts. My indifference to his pleas and whimpers led him to beg, "Nurse, I need to come."

"It’s not 'Nurse' to you!" I spat. "It’s 'Mistress Corrine.' "

"Yes, Mistress Corrine," he stammered like a nervous schoolboy. "I am yours, Mistress," squeaked the pathetic man below me.

This was too easy. I found his nightstick and pondered what to do with it. I saw his eyes bulge almost as big as his cock as I whacked his thigh with it. He winced in pain but knew better than to yell out. My pussy tingled as he writhed on the bed in agony and ecstasy. I stood on the chair next to his bed. I put one leg up on the arm of the chair and spread my pussy lips, watching him closely as I did so. His face was red, and he made gurgling noises. The symptoms were clear: his cock was ready to explode. I slowly began sliding the nightstick into my now slick, wet folds. As I plunged the nightstick deeper and deeper inside my hot, dripping pussy, he begged for me to release his hands and let him orgasm.

"You need to watch your Mistress, little boy!" I commanded.

"Yes, Mistress Corrine," he cried.

Just as I was about to climax, I stood astride his head as he lay in torture on the bed. I threw down the nightstick and lowered my pussy lips to his face. "Eat my pussy!" I demanded.

"Yes, Mistress," he moaned, as I rubbed my clit over his nose. I ordered him to suck on my clit and to tongue fuck me even harder. I cried out with delight as I came all over his face. I was getting off on the fact that I had control over this warrior, who was now totally helpless—defenseless and at my disposal. He was so desperately aroused; he pleaded, "Mistress Corrine, may I touch my cock? May I come?"

My answer should have been clear to him. My reply was a flick of strawberry-blond hair and a slow exit with a wave of my hand.

I will never forget the pitiful spectacle of one of America’s finest lying handcuffed to a bed, with a bulging, throbbing cock.

 




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