Etha grew up on a beautiful wine estate. Her stepfather was the wine maker on the estate. He was a rugged, stern man of German decent. Her mother married him when Etha was eight years old. She never knew her own father.
Her mother was a timid but relatively attractive brunette. She simply adored her second spouse and would do almost anything to please him. That included that her daughter, Etha from her first marriage, had to obey her spouse to the letter. It frequently meant that Dieter punished Etha by drawing her over his lap and smacking his large palm hard on her young buttocks. Her mother would stand on the side crying for her daughter. Etha then always saw how Dieter would embrace her mother in his powerful arms, placing his hands on her bottom and pressing her ample hips hard against his own. Her mother would squirm against him pressing passionate kisses on his mouth. Then Dieter picked her mother up and carried her to their bedroom. Etha had to wait outside, listening to the creaking of the large canopy bed. Her mother’s sighs seeped through the door. She wondered whether Dieter was also punishing her mother.
In those days all children had to take a purgative once a month to clean their intestines. Etha’s mother however did not believe in purgatives. Once a month, early in the morning, her mother and stepfather would enter her bedroom. Her mother carried a tray on which were objects covered under a white cloth. Etha dreaded that would happen next, yet still she gradually developed an exiting addiction for the experience. “Etha, turn on your stomach. It is time for your enema,” her mother announced.
When Etha was twelve, Dieter first insisted to take her panties down during a spanking session. Etha was early to start developing breasts. Her little hard nipples became extremely sensitive as they moved on her stepfather’s thighs during a spanking session. She noticed a slight down that was sprouting on her pubic mound. The large palm hitting her bare buttocks warmed her arse and whole pelvic region. New strange sensations gathered in her loins.
At fifteen Etha was a mature, very attractive girl.
One day she strolled along a secluded lane between a vineyard and the horse paddock. She noticed the stallion was busy with the mare. A large object projected from under the belly of the stallion. He circled the mare, nibbling her neck, smelling and licking under her tail. He seemed very exited. Etha sensed that something unusual and very exiting was happening. She stopped to look. Then moved closer, until she was only a couple of yards away from the horses. Sticky moisture was seeping from the organ on the stallion; it drew shiny streaks in the air. The cunt of the mare was all puffed up. Slippery wetness shone between the swollen black lips. Etha felt an unfamiliar sensation in her own loins. After a while the stallion mounted the mare. Etha saw the enormous organ entering into the cunt of the mare. She heard the slopping, squishing sound as his member slid into her body. The mare stood still. The stallion started a vigorous pumping of his loins. On each stroke Etha saw the large wet organ, thick as her calve, emerging from the cunt. The organ was all wet and slippery, then it would sink back into the mare. Suddenly the stallion froze. He groaned from deep in his throat. Etha breathed heavily. She felt the slippery wetness between her own thighs. She suddenly desired to feel what the mare was feeling.
Soon after that incident Etha’s family visited the neighboring estate for a birthday party. The neighbor’s eighteen year old son lured her to the cellar under the pretence that he wanted to show her their new wine vat. Soon he had her cornered in a secluded space. Alarmed but curious she allowed his hands to wander over her thin cotton frock, palming her young breasts. She immediately became aware of the moisture between her thighs. His knee forced between her legs. His lips found hers and he breathed his urgent need into her mouth. His palm locked on the crotch of her panties. Her breath caught in her throat. Pleasure permeated her loins.
Then her stepfather’s voice thundered in their ears. “Etha, what are you doing! Go to the car immediately,” he ordered.
At their home he ordered her and her mother to his study.
“Face the desk and bend over it,” he growled. She moved to obey. Her inner thighs slipping on the moisture between them. She pressed her hips against the desk and lowered her upper body on the surface. She held the farthest edge in her clenched hands; in the posture her stepfather demanded for a punishment.
Dieter moved behind her. He lifted her dress and draped it on her back. Then his rough fingers slipped under the elastic of her panties and pulled them all the way down her legs. “Step out of the panties and open your legs wide,” he ordered.
Addressing her mother he said, “We will have to check that the little whore did not fuck the boy.” The next moment his fingers separated her buttocks.
“Look, she is all wet and excited,” he cried. His fingers opened her sex and slipped into her vulva. Knowingly he explored.
“Her clit is large and erect, but thank heavens she is still a virgin…… Wife, we must teach her a lesson she will never forget. Fetch the enema can and five pints of iced water. I will warm her arse and then we will cool her hot little hole down so that she will never fuck around again until she is married.”
Dieter drew the broad belt from his pants, twisted the buckle end around his hand and rained the strokes on Etha’s soft buttocks. By the time her mother entered with the covered tray vicious purple welts covered her bottom. Hot pain shot through her pelvis. The cold slide of the nozzle into her bottom channel was almost comforting. Then followed the agony of a lengthy administration of the cold enema. The experience was etched into her young mind. The association of the novel excitement in the boy’s arms coupled with the enormous icy enema corrupted her future sex life forever.
When she could finally run for the toilet vicious cramps would grip her guts time and time again. It took her nearly half an hour to empty herself of the icy infusion.
Thereafter Etha toed the line. She studied hard and did very well at school. She passed Matric with the highest marks in the class.
On Old Year’s Eve her parents drove her down to Cape Town. There she enrolled as a first year student nurse.
That evening Etha felt very lonely in her small hostel room. She found her way to the students’ cafeteria and sat down at a corner table. Boisterous medical students from the University of Cape Town occupied most of the tables. They were doing their practical training at the hospital. She had heard that these students were called ‘medics’. They were the heroes, the know-alls, the most sought after potential husbands. Their word was law.
The nurses’ course was for a diploma in nursing and took a minimum of three years to complete. There were too many students for only one class. They were divided into three groups: The general nursing group, the psychiatric nursing group and the surgical theatre nursing group. The different groups were posted on the notice board. Etha found her name in the psychiatric nursing group. That meant that she would receive academic training in psychiatry for three months. After that followed nine months of practical training in a psychiatric hospital.
During the first few days of her psychiatry course she had to submit herself to a psycho analysis by a young medic. It was as much a part of his training than it was of hers.
The young medic made sure that he did a good job, especially as far as his research into Etha’s sexual experience and preferences went. She had to tell him of her excitement during her stepfather’s beatings, her mother’s enemas, the horses in the paddock and the boy in the cellar……the cold enema that followed.
After her fist year she returned to the wine estate for a short holiday. She was extremely proud of her good exam results.
The following year she proudly wore her nurses’ belt with one blue stripe, indicating that she had completed one year of training successfully. By then her full voluptuous body filled the stiffly starched white nurses’ uniform provocatively. Many a medic stared after her when he passed her in the hospital corridor.
That year she was posted to the surgical theatre nursing group. She enjoyed the first three months’ lectures on physics, chemistry, bio-mechanics and the like.
On the last day of her theoretical training she went to the notice board. Under her name the notice board informed her as follows:
Sunday, 19:00 p.m., Report at Admission for general physical examination.
That was a surprise for that time on a Sunday night but she could probably have expected a medical sooner or later, Etha thought.
The following night she reported to Admission. After she had completed some forms a friendly young third year student nurse took her to a dressing cubicle.
“Please take off all your clothes and put on this gown. The bows must be in the front. Then lie down on the trolley,” the third year ordered.
Etha did as she was told. She was nervous. The stupid little gown hardly stretched down to her fanny. She felt totally naked. Apart from her training, her only personal experience of a hospital, on the receiving end, was when her tonsils were taken out in their local hospital.
“Now please turn onto your stomach,” the third year said. She was preparing a large injection syringe.
“This is going to burn.”
Etha asked, “Why must I get an injection for a physical exam?”. She was confused.
“Doctor’s orders,” replied the nurse. “As simple as that,” thought Etha. She turned onto her stomach. The nurse lifted the back of the gown, cleaned a spot on her bottom cheek with a cotton wad dipped in alcohol and shot the needle into her buttock. The injection burned like molten lead and it took a long time to inject the large volume of fluid.
“Remain on your tummy,” Etha heard. Her bottom hurt awfully. She became drowsy, she could not care a damn what was going to happen to her. She vaguely wondered what they had injected into her.
She must have dosed off because when she came by the trolley was moving. The nurse was wheeling her down a deserted corridor. From her face down position she could not see where they were going. She could not care, she felt utterly relaxed and contented with the whole world.
The nurse wheeled the trolley through a set of swing doors, and then another set. Suddenly Etha realized that she was in an operating theatre. The lights reflected dimly in the glass panels of the observation gallery. She tried to get off the trolley. Many hands pressed her down.
“Relax girl, relax,” a male voice said. “We are not going to harm you. It will only be a thorough examination.”
The trolley stopped at the operating table. Hands lifted Etha bodily onto the table, placing her on her back. Five, six or perhaps more figures in green theatre gowns and masks moved around the table. The bright table spot lights shone into Etha’s eyes. The rest of the room seemed completely dark.
The unnatural circumstances bewildered her. She tried to pull the short gown down to cover her pubis, wondering how many medics were observing from the gallery.
Somebody took hold of her arms, other hands took hold of her legs. The hands splayed her arms wide and expertly bound them to the two anaesthetist’s braces at the side of the table. At the same time hands lifted her legs and bent her knees into the gynecological knee supports. They strapped her legs above and below both knees and at her ankles. The hands placed a body strap across her lower chest and secured it firmly. The knee braces moved, opening her thighs wide. Etha felt how her cunt lips pulling stickily apart.
She wanted to scream for help.
Someone placed a wedge of foam plastic behind her neck and bent her head back. Two braces closed on both sides of her head, supporting her head but also preventing her from moving it from side to side.
“Open your mouth. This is also going to be a demonstration for the medics on the preparations for a D and C procedure. I want to place a mock dummy in your mouth,” the anesthetist told her.
Etha relaxed slightly. This is to some extent only a demonstration for the medics. Yet, she did not like the idea of being the guinea pig. Before she could protest, a large diameter plastic tube forced between her teeth and found its way almost to the back of her throat. She wanted to scream but could utter only imperceptible sounds.
“Right John, your turn first, you can do the breast examination.”
A green clad figure appeared in the edge of her limited vision. He opened the flimsy gown, which by then, was only covering her down to her navel. Etha, her head bent back by the brace under her neck, could not see what was happening. She only felt the hands on her breasts, squeezing, fondling the nipples, pressing deep. The figure moved. The next moment she felt suction on her nipple, then the other one. It dawned to Etha that someone was sucking her nipples. She wanted to protest but the dummy in her mouth allowed only a throaty groan. Even so, her body responded. She felt her nerves knotting, the stirring in her loins, the moisture seeping.
At length the figure left her side.
“Gregory, your turn. You can do the vaginal exam.” Etha heard a sharp intake of breath. A laugh sounded.
Wheels rolled on the tiled floor. A chair was being moved between her spread thighs. She felt hot breath on her crotch.
A voice said. “Graves’ speculum.”
Metal hit against metal. Fingers separated her outer sex lips, spread cold slimy stuff in her vulva. Something, cold and bulky, penetrated menacingly into her pussy, hurt her, pushed her intimate ridges apart, unfolded the warm walls of her love passage. Deep inside her tummy the blades of the duckbill opened, distended her tight vaginal walls, stretching the soft membranes.
“This girl is enjoying it. Look at the love juice seeping down her slit,” the person between her legs said. Etha sensed the tension in her lower belly. The medic’s fingers touched between her thighs, moved to her lower belly. They explored her pubic bush, slipped between her intimate folds and found her clitoris. Lightning crashed along her spine and hit back to strike in her womb. The fingers moved, worried her love button….. The tension in her womb built to a peak. Her climax exploded. The medic, looking into the open speculum, watched how the powerful contractions of her womb expelled the mucous plug in her cervix. Her pelvic muscles danced rhythmically, clenching around the thick base of the large speculum that spread her vagina open. The dummy in her throat did not prevent her loud cries filling the room. Her intimate reek hung in the air.
She only vaguely felt the retraction of the speculum. The voice between her legs said, “There, that part is done. Pete, your turn to do the rectal.”
By then Etha had known enough about medical terms to panic at the prospect of undergoing a rectal examination. Her body strained against the straps, they held her tight. Spread out on the table, she felt like a sacrifice to some potent love goddess. Again wheels rolled on the tiled floor and a new shape moved between her thighs. Fingers spread more slippery stuff in her cleft, working it into her anus.
“Hand me the large anal speculum,” the figure between her thighs said. She heard the metal instruments clinking on the trolley. Silence….., which felt like ages, passed. A cold muzzle pushed into her puckered hole, expanded her sphincter. It worried her clasped orifice, hurt more, stretched her wide and then slipped in.
“Girl, when I screw the speculum open you must slacken your muscles fully…. or it is going to hurt you bad,” the shape between her legs said. Etha tried to obey. The fingers once more found her clitoris, moved the covering fold of skin up and down over the hard stalk underneath. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Her cunt oozed its slick fluid profusely. She felt the increasing expansion between her buttocks. It hurt terribly, but still it expanded her anus. “Relax girl, relax,” said the figure between her thighs, his fingers rolling her hard little shaft, blending joy with her pain. Etha uttered hoarse sighs through the pipe in her throat. Another climax was building in her tummy.
“How’s that boys?” the voice between her thighs said, “Even an oversize cock should fit into this size of hole. Let’s clean it out though. Her psychoanalysis report states explicitly that she endlessly enjoys enemas.” The green clad figures laughed. One said, “Let’s give her an endless one then!”
The pre-narcotic drug must have worn off. Etha was more aware of what was happening around her. She felt the speculum in her anus closing, then withdrawing. Fingers were again worrying her clitoris. Involuntary she bucked her pelvis against the hand giving her pleasure. Horrifying noises reached her ears: a metal bucket on the floor…… water in a jug….. the smack of stretched rubber tubing on a hand. The smell of Sunlight soap mingled with that of surgical rubber….
A voice said, “Nurse Clara, we need a nice thick catheter on the end of that tube….. Yes, at least as wide as Pete opened the speculum…… Is that the thickest?….. Sorry it is only about one inch diameter but it should do the job…… Let’s start…”
Etha felt fingers stretching her bottom pleat, dilating her anus. The next moment the thick catheter burned in the tender opening left by the speculum….it pressed its way into her….snaking deep into her bowels…. opening, stretching as it went.
“Keep the can high. This one must be high and fast. It must be the best one she ever had!”
The words shocked through Etha’s mind but excitement also hit in her crotch. She moaned her protest….?… Excitement…? Her dry lips tightened around the pipe in her mouth, her muscles tightened on the bundle of nerves in her tummy. She became aware of a new rush of moisture between her legs. At the same time her face flushed a deep red. The familiar cold fullness, that she craved since her childhood, started to spread uncomfortably in her stomach.
For a moment the scene of a boy and girl in the corner of the cellar flashed in Etha’s mind……. Fingers worried her clitoris….. Her belly swelled; she felt the tremendous discomfort building, yet in her crotch new overwhelming pleasure was building……..
“Nurse, add a another liter, don’t forget the soap,” a voice said.
Etha tried to moan her protest. Fingers rubbed in her vulva, caressed her nipples….. She was riding a new high of sexual abandonment, enhanced by the overwhelming tension in her bowels. Then orgasm burst in a red flash behind her eyelids, gripped her body in intense ecstasy, lifting her back off the table in a broad arch, pleasure slipped down her spine like the thick rubber tube being drawn out of her rectum…..!!!!!
Faintly she became aware of the splashing in the bucket…. Someone was spraying air freshener. Then the thick catheter slipped back into her and crept back up her rectum, nosing its way ever deeper into the secret depths of her tired, pleasure racked body, more caresses on her breasts and in her groin…… Her bowels again filled, filled, filled and finally burst as pleasure in her deepest bowels…… Splashing in the bucket…, then again filling, filling, climax building…….
Etha awoke in a strange bed. Her upper body was still clad in the short hospital frock. She felt groggy, her body was aching, her throat was dry and sore, between her legs a thick sanitary towel rubbed her tender flesh, deep inside her it was sore…….both in front and at the back….. Yet, she felt so tired, so relaxed, oh so satisfied……
How many orgasms did she have…? Four, five, six, more…?? She did not remember, nor did she care…….Her carnal craving was entrenched for life!