by Karl Quentin
Sister Naomi Dawson was turning the pages of the job adverts in the Nursing Times when her eye was caught by the following:
ARE YOU THINKING WHAT WE'RE THINKING?
Do you believe that modern nursing has lost its way? Do you yearn for the days of Matron? Are you sick and tired of sloppy nursing practices and hospital infections; of wards inadequately cleaned by outsourced labour? Do you believe that patient care is at the heart of the nursing profession, not targets set by self-serving politicians? Do you yearn for the return of strict discipline to nursing?
If this is you - as it is certainly us - and you are a ward sister of proven excellence and more than two years' experience, who would not object to tripling her NHS salary - then we may have the opening you have been seeking.
The Cedric Placebo Clinic offers superb care and treatment to the cream of British society. We are seeking a new sister with the above qualities to join our team of dedicated and highly motivated professionals. You will find that we pay attention to your development in areas that have hitherto been neglected.
Sister Dawson's pulse beat faster. She fit the bill in every detail! The youngest ward sister in the health authority at twenty-seven, with almost three years' experience behind her, Naomi combined high-flying career advancement with surprisingly old-fashioned values. A petite red-headed package of flashing-green-eyed energy and impatience, she filled out her shapeless baggy blue uniform in all the right places. She yearned for the days of proper dress uniforms, of white caps and starched dresses and smart aprons rather than these ghastly scrubs that did nothing for morale and commitment to the service. She was known and even feared as a fierce martinet, one who enforced the highest professional standards upon her staff and upon herself. She would not put up with the slightest lapse in discipline. Indeed, when she came across a gaggle of young or even older nurses gossiping at the nursing station when they should have been attending to their patients, Naomi had a secret desire sometimes to give them more than the tongue-lashing they inevitably received.
What some of these girls needed, she thought to herself, was to be taken into the office to have their knickers taken down and a stiff hairbrush applied firmly to their bare backsides! She would smile to herself in a rather guilty fashion. Where she got such ideas from she had no clue. They were not the usual ideas of a twenty-something young woman. But she cherished her private imaginings: how the idle girls' faces would stretch with consternation! How they would kick and bawl as she tanned some liveliness into them! How they would hop to it afterwards, scurrying around to carry out their duties giving their smacked bottoms a rueful rub! And serve them right.
So Naomi had no hesitation in applying for this tempting-sounding post. She fumed with impatience until she received the letter telling her that she had indeed been shortlisted and was invited to attend for interview. She put every ounce of her formidable energy and determination into preparation for the interview, and for the fifteen-minute PowerPoint presentation all candidates were asked to give on the topic of: 'Strict Discipline in Nurse Training'. When she had finished, the two interviewers looked at each other.
The panel consisted of Professor Sir Cedric Placebo, consultant in Plutocratic Medicine and senior partner in the consortium that owned the Placebo Clinic; and Gwendolyn Tanner, the Matron. Sir Cedric was a tall, thin elegant man in his early fifties who spoke in a drawling voice and looked at Naomi from half-lidded eyes; but she sensed a coiled energy in him, and noted his combination of long skilled fingers attached to broad spade-like hands. Matron on the other hand was built like a tank. Naomi had been peppered with sharp aggressive questioning from her throughout the interview, and though she strongly approved of Matron's attitude and immaculate blue uniform dress she was already somewhat afraid of her. Fear, however, was next to respect in Naomi's book, and she did not think any less of Matron Tanner for that. Quite the contrary!
"Ms Dawson - may I call you Naomi? - you may be surprised that at this point we are deviating from standard interview procedure, for reasons that will become apparent. Instead of informing candidates of our decision at a later date, we are letting them know immediately. Naomi, you have just done an outstanding interview, and you are far and away the best candidate. Should we offer you the post, would you accept it?"
"Like a shot, Sir Cedric!"
"Very well. Before I formally offer you the post, I wish to be perfectly clear that you understand what it will involve. You have heard that we maintain a rather stiff disciplinary policy in this clinic?"
"Indeed, Sir Cedric! And I thoroughly approve!"
"And that you would be expected to enforce that policy?"
"Absolutely! I'm raring to go!"
"And that you yourself would be subject to that policy?"
Naomi did not hesitate. "I am always willing to have my practice subject to the highest standards."
Sir Cedric and Matron Gwendolyn nodded to each other. "To be fair to you, before we offer you the post, we are going to give you an opportunity to witness the policy in operation for yourself. You will now have the chance to observe what you will be expected to do as part of your duties - and what you may have to submit to yourself. If, after this - er - demonstration you still wish to take the post, it is yours. Agreed?"
Naomi had no idea what he was driving at, but who was she to argue. "Why... yes, Sir Cedric!"
Matron Gwendolyn picked up the telephone. "Mrs Wright! Send in Nurse Wriggley and Nurse Bottomley!"
A moment later the interview suite door opened, and in slid two very pretty nurses. One was very young, in her early twenties, small, plump and blonde with a heart-shaped pink face and troubled bright blue eyes. She wore a very traditional uniform: a stiff wide-skirted dress, white apron and cap over black stockings and sensible black shoes. The other was similarly clad, but she was older and much taller: an oval-faced beautiful woman with raven hair so black and fine it shone, even tied back as it was. The blonde's dress was white with vertical pink stripes, the uniform of a student nurse; the brunette's was pale blue, showing that she was a qualified staff nurse. Both dresses were so stiffly starched that they creaked and rustled as the women walked hesitantly forward into the middle of the room. Naomi nodded in approval. That was exactly how she thought nurses should look!
Both nurses had started and then paled when they caught sight of Naomi; but they continued to walk forwards until they stood before the table facing Matron Gwendolyn and Sir Cedric. Naomi could feel their tension and unease; the room seemed to have filled up with static electricity. The two fidgeted with their dresses as the eyes of the panel took them in.
"Nurse Wriggley!" said Sir Cedric. "Please tell Ms Dawson here why you are here."
Wriggley by name and wriggly by nature, the young blonde nurse half turned to Naomi, squirming from side to side in embarrassment. "I... that is, I... I left the bed pans unwashed in the sluice while I went for lunch." She blushed and hung her head. Naomi frowned. Such carelessness! Such inattention to duty!
"The penalty for such wilful negligence, such disregard for basic hospital hygiene, in this clinic, for a first offence, is a soundly tanned backside!" Sir Cedric informed Naomi, with a beady eye upon Nurse Wriggley. Naomi gasped.
"I'm sorry, Sir Cedric, what did you say?"
"A soundly tanned backside! A bare red bottom!" The unfortunate nurse looked up at Naomi with a pleading expression, but she got no sympathy there.
Naomi was thunderstruck. At the same time, excitement had her by the throat and by the loins. Just as she had dreamed! Here naughty nurses were dealt with properly, just as they deserved! Indeed it seemed too much like a dream, too unreal to be true. But the miscreants in front of her seemed to believe in the reality of what was about to happen to them all too well. The tall dark staff nurse looked at her with twisted lips and unhappy eyes.
"If you are agreeable, Sister Dawson, we will proceed to administer discipline," said Sir Cedric.
"By all means," said Naomi faintly.
Sir Cedric rose to his feet. He really was an extremely tall man in his imposing three-piece suit. His greying hair swept back from his high forehead in a mane. He opened a drawer and took out a leather strap, thick and short, about twelve inches long. Nurse Wriggley exhaled sharply, though Naomi caught her breath.
"Nurse Wriggley, you know the drill," said Sir Cedric sternly. The blonde girl rustled over to the wall and picked up a wooden chair. This she carried back to the centre of the room and stood beside it, biting her lip. "Come along, nurse, no need to be shy!"
The poor girl reached behind and, trying not to look at Naomi, raised her stiff wide dress all around herself until it was belling well above her waist. Naomi swallowed hard. There was an insistent pulse between her legs. Nurse Wriggley stood exposed in her thirty denier black seamed nurse's stockings and a silky pair of little pale yellow panties that clung sweetly to her swelling pink young bottom.
Sir Cedric stepped out from behind the interview desk and walked slowly and purposefully around to the chair. Naomi followed his every move, as did the tall staff nurse. Sitting down precisely, he looked up at the trembling blushing girl and indicated his knee. "Over you go, young lady!"
Miserably, the girl bent forwards in an ungainly fashion and spread herself out across Sir Cedric's knee. Taking her weight on her arms she straightened her legs behind her and lowered her head. Her blonde locks tumbled around her face, hiding her blushes, and her knickered bottom was raised high upon the centre of his lap. Naomi's forehead was cold with perspiration: what must it be like, to be exposed like that over a man's knee about to be spanked! Still, the idle girl certainly deserved what she had coming.
"You have utterly failed to live up to the basic standards required in this clinic, Nurse Wriggley!" scolded Sir Cedric. Naomi saw her buttocks clench, and no wonder! The consultant began to strap her smartly, raising the leather high over his shoulder and bringing it down hard with a sharp loud thwack across the seat of her little thin panties. After each whack he paused for a brief second before larruping her again. From the very first lick Nurse Wriggley squealed and squirmed, her hips twisting from side to side and her bottom bouncing. The thick tough leather flattened and squished her plump wobbly cheeks, and red welts began to appear in her flesh beyond the curve of her silky knickers.
"Oww!! Oooh!!! Oww!!! Ohh!!! OWW!! OOOH!!! OWWW!!! EEEYOWW!!! Please Sir Cedric sir!!! Not so hard sir please!!! YEEEOWWW!!! OOOOGHWOWWW!!!" But grim-faced and impassive, Sir Cedric leathered on, holding her bucking little body down firmly to take her punishment.
Naomi looked on with dry mouth and hammering heart. Just what she had always wanted to do to her own idle staff! It was certainly making an impression. But it was about to make even more.
"In future, Nurse Wriggley, you will attend to your duties in a proper manner!" Sir Cedric boomed. He took hold of her skimpy briefs and masterfully pulled them down to her stocking tops, where they huddled in pathetic surrender to discipline.
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