“That’s a well-punished bottom,” Sister Stone had said, after making the girl bend over the bed for an initial inspection. Dr. Brown observed through the peephole let into every cell door. “You’ll want to touch it, miss, I’m sure, but that’s forbidden right now. So is touching between your legs, of course.” The nursing sister’s hands roved over the shapely little bottom with its delicate tracery of marks from the strap. Miss Eaker whimpered.
“Are you wet, child?” asked Sister Stone softly, skillfully beginning what Dr. Brown called the priming process.
Miss Eaker could render only the least articulate of responses, as the sister’s fingers sought out the answer.
“You certainly are wet, aren’t you?” the older woman said insinuatingly. “That’s just fine. You’re ashamed now, I know, but you are here to learn that you must lose that false modesty when it suits your gentleman for you to lose it.
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