You read part 6, you voted in the poll, and edging took the lead and never lost it. You voted and you shall receive. Here’s the newest part to Lady Ashley’s twisted story of woe and subjugation. At the end, you have a week to vote in the poll to determine what happens next in the course of her story so remember to read and vote!
Lady Ashley
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Lady Ashley, Part 7
“Nurse, why is the patient still abed at this hour?”
Ashley blinked. She felt unkempt and filthy. It had been a long and restless night for her. Her body had felt feverishly warm and overheated, and yet other, targeted parts had felt an almost icy burn. The throbbing seemed to drum in her veins, inciting her to try and escape her restraints. She had struggled most violently, trying to close her legs or self-soothe by touching those burning points, because she just knew that if she could touch her breasts and sex, she felt certain it would make these terribly overwhelming feelings stop.
When she gave up on freeing herself, she had called for help repeatedly until a night orderly walked in and violated her mouth with a gag—something hard pressed down on her tongue and filled her mouth, and straps went under her chin to muzzle her.
She had no idea what time she had finally managed to doze off in a fitful sleep that was far from restful. Her dreams had been strangely vivid and almost brutal, but now that she was awake, the memory of them was drifting away. She thought she remembered a dream about a pack of men pursuing her through the night, catching her, ripping away her clothes and throwing her down in the grass, and then they…
“Sorry, doctor. The night orderly mentioned she only got a bit less than five hours of sleep, so we thought we’d let her regain her strength.”
Doctor Kent was consulting a chat with Nurse Lane at the end of her bed. They both looked tidy and put together and very smart in their hospital uniforms. Ashley pulled weakly at her restraints.
“Please let me go. I—I would like to refresh myself.”
They ignored her. The doctor said, “The schedule must be adhered to, nurse.”
“Yes, Doctor Kent.”
“She’ll have to miss her cleaning and breakfast. Give her some water and half a portion of mash. She shouldn’t be too full for her first session.”
Nurse Lane stepped out with the departing doctor, but returned shortly with a glass bottle and shallow bowl on a tray.
“Please, Nurse Lane,” Ashley tried to say politely, “Please let me up. I need to use the water closet, and I’d like have a bath…”
“You heard the doctor. There’s no time for that. It’s my fault, for indulging you with a lie-in. There won’t be anymore of that in the future. Now, take your water.”
The rubber nipple of the bottle was shoved into Ashley’s mouth, silencing her. Nurse Lane cradled the back of Ashley’s head, helping her raise her head so she could swallow the lukewarm water more easily. After several gulps, the nurse removed the bottle and set it aside.
“Swallow,” she said, impatiently, holding up a spoon full of mash to Ashley’s lips.
There was nothing to do except swallow. The “mash” was just that—turnips that had been boiled and then mashed. Hardly any salt or butter had been used, and it was as bland as last night’s supper.
“I’m still hungry,” Ashley said, when the nurse had finished feeding her. Then she cried out in shock as she received a quick slap across the face.
“This isn’t a hotel, you silly girl. Keep silent unless you are spoken to.”
Nurse Lane finally released Ashley from her restraints and helped her from the bed. She was once again dressed in the same sheer white shift. By this time, Ashley’s bladder was quite, quite full, and she was desperate to avail herself of the toilet. Her nurse, however, proceeded to march Ashley out of the room, holding onto the arm of her charge quite tightly, and treating Ashley very much as if she were a young, recalcitrant girl.
All the jostling movement made Ashley quite anxious and fearful of an accident. Suddenly, Nurse Lane halted in outside a room with a large, long window with dark glass. Ashley could see straight into the room that there were several other young women inside.
“Here we are,” Nurse Lane said in relief. “Right on time.”
She led Ashley inside. The other girls were already in a strange position: they were sitting on the padded floor, sitting up against large cushioned bolsters at their backs. Their legs were all bent and strapped to two twin vertical posts installed a shoulder-width’s length apart, obliging them to maintain a most indelicate and unmannerly frog-legged squatting position.
To Ashley’s dread, she noticed that the elastic necklines had been pushed beneath each girl’s breasts, leaving breasts of all sizes exposed. Each girl had clips on the tips of her nipples, with a long chain between them. The end of the chain went over the bar connecting the top of the two posts, parallel to the floor, compelling her not to lean overly far back onto the bolsters, lest she exert undue force pulling on her chained and clamped nipples. No one was looking at anyone else, out of fear of doing something wrong or most likely embarrassment.
Nurse Lane guided Ashley to an empty spot.
“Sit right there. Legs up, and spread them wide. Best get accustomed to this position, girl, for you’ll have no secrets here nor with your husband. Legs are to be kept open.”
The black leather straps went around Ashley’s lower limbs, securing them tightly to the posts and splitting her quite wide. There was already a set of the clips hanging over the top bar.
“No, please! Why are you doing this?” Ashley begged, and received another loud slap for daring.
Nurse Lane didn’t answer. Instead, she roughly tugged down the top of Ashley’s shift, making sure the neckline bunched under her breasts and pushing them together. To Ashley’s shame, her nipples were puckered and standing at attention. The nurse gave each nub a quick pinch and then applied the clips.
Ashley gasped at the pain that clamped the tips of her breasts. At first it seemed unbearably vicious, but then the intensity of the pain seemed to ebb into a dull but persistent throbbing.
“Don’t you dare touch them,” Nurse Lane hissed. “Follow the instructions.”
Another white-coated doctor was striding to the front of the room. He was a portly figured gentleman, his belly straining the buttons of his shirt, and with a bushy beard that made him look jovial and friendly. His eyes twinkled as he surveyed the room of bound young ladies, with their breasts hanging out of their translucent dresses.
“Good morning, everyone. Listen carefully. The instructions are simple; I will explain them now. You see this metronome?” He showed them a silver, squarish instrument. “A very good mechanical device. It keeps time. Very steady time, see?” He appeared to wind the instrument, and a pendulum began to swing, punctuating its movement with a loud, repeated click.
“It can be sped up or slowed down.”
The doctor demonstrated. The clicking became fast, the pendulum a blur.
“Very shortly, when I have given you the permission to do so, you will be touching your pussies.” The doctor looked at each of them, beaming. “Yes, I thought that would brighten the day for some of you! Some of you patients are attending this session because you experience a lack of control over your naughty pussies. Others of you perhaps are frightened of even saying the word. So, first, let me hear you all say that your pussy is for touching. Go on!”
Slowly, darting nervous looks at each other, the girls recited, “My pussy is for touching.”
“Good, good. Now, let’s hear you all say that your pussy is for playing with.”
Ashley’s face burned as she echoed, “My pussy is for playing with.”
“Very good, ladies! To be clear, your pussies are for your Lords and husbands and masters to touch and play with. You are only permitted to touch and play with those naughty pussies at their behest. Understand?” The doctor paused here to regard each girl very sternly. “You must never feel free to take liberties with those pussies unless given an explicit invitation to do so. Those pussies are owned by the men who sent you here, or the men who will be taking your home at the end of your stay.”
He clapped his hand again. “Now, where was I? Ah. In this session, I am giving you permission to touch those needy pussies. You are required to do so, in fact. You shall stroke those pretty petals in time to the metronome. You may not go slower or faster than the pace it sets. When the metronome stops, you will stop. Immediately. Disobedience will be punished.”
One girl gave a loud sob of distress. “Sir! I can’t—this is unseemly!”
“Victoria,” the doctor said in a pleasant tone, “if you cannot follow instructions, you spanked until you do. We will all wait and watch your spanking.”
He waited a bit, but the girl shook her head, her hair hiding her face. Ashley’s heart was beating so fast, she felt as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath.
“So that’s it. You will touch your pussies to the beat of the metronome. You will stop when it stops. Very simple. Let us commence.”
The metronome began swinging. Hesitantly, Ashley put her hand down between her spread legs and touched her sex. She felt a bit of slickness that seemed to gather more quickly the more she stroked.
“That’s it,” the doctor encouraged, as he strolled between them. “Very good, Harriet. You certainly know what you’re doing. Oh, but it’s been a very long time for you, hasn’t it? Mind you don’t overtake the metronome now!”
Before another girl, he stopped and clucked his tongue.
“Very poor effort, Clara. Here, I’ll show you.”
And he knelt down and inserted his fat fingers into the girl next to Ashley, pumping his fingers as Clara moaned in absolute disgrace.
“See, you’re juicing very nicely now. Continue, Clara.”
Then the doctor was standing in front of Ashley, his eyes zeroed to her pussy. “Ashley, is it? Lovely cream you’re producing. Keep going.”
Eventually, the metronome’s clicking sped up a rate. Ashley was breathing more heavily now. Her bottom half felt quite warm, and she moved her fingers faster, rubbing and rubbing at her slippery pussy. A few of the girls had to be reminded to slow down.
Suddenly the clicking stopped and the doctor’s voice rang out, “Halt!”
There were a few cries of pain as nurses stepped up to administer chastising swats to girls who had continued touching themselves. One young woman, Harriet, was especially querulous, shrieking, “No, please! I beg you!” and had to be peppered with swats over her pussy.
After a moment, the metronome continued. Ashley resumed touching herself. She discovered that if she leaned back, the chain pulled at her clamped nipples, and the bite of pain seemed to translate directly to her pussy. She noticed that several other girls were doing the same. Harriet was lying quite far back, so her nipples were stretched painfully long, and her hand was buried between her legs.
Ashley also realized that she could see a bit of herself in the mirror along the wall. It was a disturbing sight—her face looked quite flushed, her breasts were positively heaving in a most lurid display, her nipples pinched in their clips, her legs splayed. Then she experienced a second, more unsettling revelation: that mirror was the window to the outside hall that she had glimpsed before entering the room! It was reflective only on their side. Anyone could look inside and see this shaming exercise.
As the morning wore on, it got harder and harder to stop when the ticking of the metronome ceased. Ashley, like all the other girls, began to crave the incessant tapping, the left-right-left-right sway of the pendulum. The room filled with the sounds of panting and cries, gasps and groans. Their nurses began to patrol the room, closely watching for any deviance from obeying the mechanical device.
Ashley wanted to orgasm, but she was also experiencing the unstoppable tide of pressure on her bladder. During one particularly fast-paced set, she cried out in dismay as her inner muscles seemed to contract and loosen, and some urine dribbled out.
“You may not stop!” Nurse Lane snapped, bearing down threateningly.
Ashley’s shoulders hitched in a sob as she released her bladder all over her fingers, which were still playing with her pussy. Then she was sitting a pool of her own urine, frantically rubbing her slippery, saturated sex.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no. Ah god, no…”
She felt a quivering begin to ripple through her pussy—
“Stop!” the doctor shouted. “Stop, I say! Excellent job, girls, excellent! We had some near-calls, but overall, we have been successful. Congratulations on your first edging session! This is a practice you shall be called upon to perform regularly in your lives. It promotes an excellent constitution and is beneficial to improving your inferior physiologies. Some of you may need to edge regularly, at least once every waking hour. I will see you again at our next session.”
“Come,” Nurse Lane said brusquely to her charge. “There’s no time to get you cleaned up. You have someone waiting to see you.”
So…um…what did you think of Park 7? And what should happen in Part 8? Cast your vote below to determine the next chapter of Lady Ashley’s story.
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