A Woman's Servant

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

I Reminisce

The actions of the castrate caregivers, simultaneously offering faint yet unending pleasure to four donors, brings memories as a student nurse.

I was being mentored by a nurse of many years, Nurse Blackmore. Knowledgeable, calm, cool and confident, I followed her on her rounds, soaking up many years of experience, a sponge to a constant flow of practical nursing technique.

Most of her advice was mundane, yet welcomed, information not obtained in manuals of instruction and not overly impressive until we reached a room with a lone male patient, an eighteen year old, the adjoining bed empty.

“Well, well, Johnny, how are we today?” Nurse Blackmore's words offered by rote.

The lad proves to be petulant. Two broken wrists, a bicycle accident, have brought the need for formidable casts of heavy plaster. And I quickly realize the covered hands serve to obviate the coveted right of passage of a hormone laden teen. My mentor is well aware as well. And sure enough, the patient's frustration was quickly vented with a venomous reply.

“I can't use my hands... for anything, you stupid bitch.”

I was taken aback. Yet such vitriol does not faze Nurse Blackmore, who calmly turns to me, speaking as if the words are unheard.

“Would you mind getting some KY jelly for our young friend, Nurse Cummings? I do believe he is in need of special therapy.”

With that, having not noticed the source of his aggravation... a tented bed sheet which is much more apparent to a nurse of some 20 years... Nurse Blackmore grasps the folded hem at the lad's chest and whisks the sheet downward to mid thigh.

Naked from the waist down to facilitate his toilet, a raging erection is fully revealed. In my youthful naïveté, I titter with the prurient display of maleness. For Nurse Blackmore the exhibition is all in due course.

“Well, well, what do we have here? Seems you have reason to be a little more polite to your nurse, my boy. This needs to be addressed, but how are you going to do that?”

The petulance quickly subsides, turning to bashful remorse, the cast laden hands not able to stroke, much less right the bed sheet. I repress a smile in seeing the tables so quickly turned on the blushing young man.

“You see how much they need our care, Nurse Cummings?” again turning to me as if we are alone in the room. “Yet how crass they become with the hormonal imbalance? Young Johnny here lets his priapism get the best of him,” the words coming as I hand Nurse Blackmore the requested tube of unguent.

What a learning experience! Observing Nurse Blackmore take complete control of the situation, I noticed patient Johnny's erection wavers not, despite the intense embarrassment, forced to present his turgid manhood before two fully uniformed women.

“Now, Johnny, we're going to learn some manners. And how good boys get special care... and how bad boys just lie and fume, stewing in their juices.” I am sure the pun intentional.

Nurse Blackmore opens the tube of jelly, squeezing a small nurdle of clear slickness onto the very tip her right index finger.

“I assume you're old enough to count?” turning her attention back to the chagrined, well displayed male.

“Yes,” the reply hesitant in not understanding the intent of the question.

“Well, this is number one,” Nurse Blackmore holding the coated index finger straight up.

“And these are two, three and four,” the noted digits springing upwards one by one. “Such are joined by a needed companion... my thumb... to ordain prehensility,” the lecture coming with a smile of smugness.

“Bad boys with naughty mouths get number one... and only number one,” Nurse Blackmore becoming more and more pedantic as she reaches down and with the coated finger ever so gently grazes the very tip at the underside of the upstanding erection, diddling with devilish aloofness.

The slight touch of her sole finger gives rise to a gasp of ecstasy, the p***s tip incredibly sensitive in both youthfulness and recent neglect. Such becomes my introduction to the male erogenous zone, so small, but so receptive, so much in need of a woman's attention.

I watch as the knowing nurse proceeds to slowly circle and circle the underside, spawning quite the squirming response, Nurse Blackmore suppressing a superior cackle.

“I'm going to offer Johnny what is termed a ruined orgasm, Nurse Cummings. It will serve you well to observe. Slow, not too much friction, not too little, in time he'll rid himself of that which brings the nasty words and undesired temperament. And the release of the hormones will not be overly pleasurable, but it will serve to calm him.”

Rub, rub, the circling motion is most mechanical... and unrelenting despite the gasps and unintelligible words which I assume beseech for more.

“And Johnny,” returning her attention to a most stressed young man, his begging ignored, “good boys get fingers two, three and four plus a nice introduction to my thumb. Wouldn't you prefer that to just number one?”

Her words come as cloudy white male essence begins to ever so slowly ooze, not in eruption but instead what I imagine to be a futile quest for mercy. This seems to be an expected signal for Nurse Blackmore. Finger number one is summarily withdrawn, letting the greatly exasperated lad orgasm without further touch... without the final grip and fervent stroke which I am sure he has learned to offer himself in self pleasure. No climax, just slow mind boggling secretion.

I cannot help closely watching, smiling mischievously, not before having seen the male organ so meekly respond to a woman’s handling.

“We’ll stop by again tomorrow, Johnny. Think about a polite greeting. And I think it will be returned by an equally gracious hello from numbers one, two, three and four,” the fingers again popping up in introduction.

With that, Nurse Blackmore mockingly curls her fingers and thumb, drawing her hand into an open fist, gyrating to simulate male m**********n. She then withdraws, leaving the teen uncovered, his p***s continuing to ooze in ruined orgasm, peaking I am sure his frustration.

Well, thereafter Johnny's deportment changed... permanently. Visiting each day, there came more mentoring as I further learned that for certain males, being made to perform for fully clothed women can augment the demented arousal. By the time Johnny's wrists healed, he was performing regularly for us, fingers one through four plus gripping thumb, bringing quite the geyser of male seed.