Page 15 of Doctor's Orders
And this time, she advanced it inside that ring of flesh very quickly, since she had already been loosened, although Angine let her know that it had not been nearly enough to help her deal with what was being done to her, through groans and squeals and whimpers that Darcy's consciousness acknowledged but she ignored with troubling ease as she slid the thing home, watching Angine's bottom hole spread grossly apart around the widest point of the plug and, slowing so that she would have to endure the discomfort just that much longer, only to shrink, eventually, back down as she finally allowed her to settle around the not too much thinner flange.
The spectators were surprised to hear Angine croaking loudly and straining against her bonds as that happened, surprised that she would so vehemently protest what should have been a tiny bit of ease, but then the doctor turned to them and said, "What you probably didn't see was that Nurse Hanson applied quite a layer of Tiger Balm around the neck of the plug, hence Angine's vocal protestations."
The audience sat back in their chairs, glad to know what they'd missed.
Darcy stood then, startling the doctor and Nurse Carson a bit, and going over to one of the mirrored wall cupboards and returning with the several things she'd gathered to begin applying them to the hapless, helpless Angine. The first was a set of alligator clips on short chains with sticky round pads at the end. She applied the clips to the other woman's outer lips then used the chains to pull them apart, securing them to the skin of her thighs with the pads to expose the poor girl even more so than she had been.
Then she used a soft white brush to apply the balm she had been using to every inch of the rest of Angine's privates almost gently, in direct contrast to the sounds that were being issued from the head of the table that were distinctly frantic; not that anyone paid much attention to them. Darcy was surprised to notice—and not a little nervous—that her rapt audience had increased by two—the doctor and Nurse Carson were watching her with at least as much interest as everyone else, especially when she stood and produced something that she hadn't displayed blatantly before and that she thought no one had probably seen until just then.
It was an almost—but not quite—soft leather tawse, but it was much smaller than most of the doctor's inventory. It had the usual split at the end, and there, the leather had been doubled over and was much less malleable, designed to deliver maximum sting at those particular points.
"Is there a way to put a microphone near Angine's mouth?" Darcy asked, not looking anywhere but at Angine.
Delighted by the unexpected in a way that he usually wasn't, the doctor quickly did her bidding, applying his own tiny rock star headset to the girl and securing it with a thick layer of bandage that he was careful didn't interfere with the sound. That was surprisingly easy to judge because the girl never stopped moaning—not that she didn't have more than enough cause to do so.
"Thank you."
Without another word, Darcy stood between Angine's spread nethers, extended her arm fully up over her head and brought the evil tawse down on that defenseless flesh, striking a surprisingly swollen button that was still thickly clotted with peppery balm.
Everyone who was listening was amazed to hear just how close to an actual scream the miscreant was able to get, even though her mouth was full of noise absorbing material, and her suppressed shrieks reverberated around the room as Darcy found a natural rhythm that quickly became the bane of the girl's existence. The leather danced around her secret spots, landing exactly where Darcy wanted it to and not leaving so much as a millimeter of her skin unscathed while they were all bathed in the sounds of Angine's agony.
Darcy found herself in a zone she'd never been in before and would be happy never visiting again, where those distressed cries only fed the fuel of her rhythm, making her bring the leather down that much harder and faster rather than inspiring her to go softer on the girl. When she finally stopped, the tawse fell out of her limp hand and onto the floor with barely a sound for such a vicious implement, and she tried to run away, startling everyone, especially the doctor and Nurse Carson.
Not that she got very far at all. It was the nurse who caught her a few steps away and returned her to stand in front of the doctor, who had to admit he admired her technique and innovation. He should have known that someone with the depth of Darcy's responses would be able to switch hit without breaking stride.
He had procured another headset for himself, she noticed. "Where do you think you're going? You're not done, unless you'd like to join her." He raised an eyebrow as if he was actually asking.
What could she possibly say in response to that? "No, sir."
"She's on the same program as you are—no orgasms for quite a while, but I want you to pleasure her, nonetheless. It would be quite a coup if you could get her to come back to arousal after that."
Darcy swallowed hard. She wasn't at all sure she could do it—intellectually, she didn't want to. Revenge was one thing—as much as she didn't like to admit it, she felt that this was a kind of an "eye for an eye" situation. But could she be responsible for stoking Angine's fires the way she knew the doctor wanted her to? And, more importantly, how would she feel about herself if she did it? Was she really, then, any better than those who had tormented her?
"You'll have to walk a fine line, you know, Darcy," he warned, disrupting Darcy's process because she was thinking entirely too much about it, "because you're going be made to deeply regret it if you make her come."
She knew he hadn't said the same thing to Angine about her, because he hadn't known that she was molesting her, supposedly. That was what this was all about.
And how could she really be blamed for someone else's lack of control?
The answer was everywhere around here. This was the doctor's little kingdom, and what he said, went. What was right or fair had nothing to do with it. What was important was what piqued the doctor's interests, and unfortunately for her, she had, doubly so, now.
Dr. Brackett looked pointedly at the stool, then back at Darcy, and she knew he wasn't going to wait much longer for her to decide to obey him. She sank slowly down onto the seat, resuming her place, and leaving all of the apparatus in place except the dildo, which she very slowly removed.
Donning a new pair of gloves, Darcy pressed three fingers up inside Angine, wiggled them vigorously, then removed them almost triumphantly.
They were unmistakably covered in the evidence of the other girl's desire, and Darcy's announcement to that effect for everyone to hear had her trying to howl more loudly than anything Darcy had done to her yet this evening, about which she almost sympathized, because she, too, knew the depths of that shame—the shame where one's body breaks away from the logic of one's mind and begins to crave the most degrading treatment—and the more humiliating or painful, the better.
It wasn't the same dildo that Darcy returned to the very sensitized cunny of the woman who had been her sadistic supervisor. Instead, she chose one that was two times larger, relentlessly driving it up inside her, despite the other woman's loud, continual protestations, and locking it in there so that it could not be removed except by someone else's hand other than Angine's.
Then she picked up a smaller, soft, gentle brush than the one she had used to apply more balm, holding it in her right hand and reaching for the flange of the plug that was seated between Angine's butt cheeks with her other hand. Her touch on Angine's clit was deliberately delicate and teasing. She figured that she'd had enough harsh stimulation, and that the contrast might just spark her to new heights.
But with the good, there had to be an uncomfortable, bad balance—Darcy knew, from her own experience, that kind of thing only made women like the two of them hotter—so with her other hand, she kept the widest point of that plug to one side or the other of Angine's sphincter, keeping it as open as she could, not allowing her the relative ease of feeling herself close around the smaller neck, but keeping her at that horrible, painful point where she knew the other woman didn't think she could possibly stretch any more, and as soon as the instrument popped either into or out of her, the uncomfortable, embarrassing dance began again.
Angine's keening, unintelligible protestations died surprisingly quickly to be replaced by what everyone in that room knew was a softer to rapidly louder chant of "no, no, no, no, no!" and "please, please, please, please, please!" that quickly became overwhelmed by moans and groans of what was obviously pure pleasure. Her skin suffused an even brighter red, signaling that her complete humiliation was, indeed, as much a part of her arousal as everything else that had been done to her.
Darcy seemed to have an affinity for this, too, much to her horror. She kept Angine riding that edge better than anyone the doctor or Nurse Carson had ever been privy to. They could see the evidence of Angine's arousal in the way her fluids were leaking around the dildo, as well as by how distended her clit had grown under Darcy's ministrations. But she never climaxed, and that was entirely due to Darcy's skill in knowing when to back off, when to accentuate the uncomfortable rather than the pleasurably sensual. It was a magnificent show that ended when Darcy thought she had probably gone about as far as she could with the other woman; that she was on a hair trigger that could be set off at any moment, and she damn sure didn't want to be the one who caused that.
At that point, Nurse Carson left and returned with a small piece of ice that had an indentation in it, which she applied to Angine's clit, holding it there despite the woman's best—yet feeble—attempts to dislodge it, as well as her hoarse cries.