The Reluctant Stripper

Fiction4All

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 75,000
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Thrift Moncrieff is sent as an agent to France, where decadence abounds! But in Thrift's world, a world where England has been locked in Victorian values for over a hundred years, decadence is everywhere! If she had been hoping for a soft assignment, she is sadly mistaken and finds that Paris is full of men who want to lift her petticoats and whip the elegant bottom that lies beneath!

The Reluctant Stripper
0 Ratings (0.0)

The Reluctant Stripper

Fiction4All

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 75,000
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Prologue
London, the Quality Enclave, March 27th 2010

Thrift bit her lip as a well lubricated finger was pushed in through her anus to investigate the chamber beyond. She lay face down, the central section of the couch adjusted to lift her hips and bring her bottom into full prominence, spreading her cheeks and allowing Dr Molloy easy access to the puckered pink hole between.
‘A trifle tight, perhaps,’ the doctor remarked, as casually as if he had been remarking on the adjustment of his cravat rather than the muscular condition of a girl’s anus.
Thrift stifled a sigh. She knew better than to ask why he considered her sphincter to be too tight. He wouldn’t know the details, while the implications were obvious. Something was to be inserted up her bottom.
‘A trifle congested also,’ Dr Molloy continued. ‘Yes, just a trifle, but still...’
He trailed off as he pushed his finger deeper in up Thrift’s bottom and began to hum the tune to a hymn as he rummaged in her rectum. Thrift closed her eyes, trying to think of anything but the sensation of her penetrated anus and praying that just for once she wouldn’t disgrace herself by growing aroused over what was being done to her. It was hopeless. Her quim had already begun to juice.
The doctor could hardly fail to notice, nor her chaperone, nor the nurse, adding to her embarrassment and consternation for what was being done to her and her own wanton reaction. It was hardly the first time she had been inspected, but she still found the entire procedure deeply humiliating and not only because she was unable to stop herself growing aroused. Her day dress covered every inch of her body from her neck to her toes, but for medical inspection she was invariably given a modesty gown so ridiculously inadequate that it failed to hold her breasts in, let alone cover her at the front, while the back was slit for its full length and tied with just two drawstrings, one at her waist and one at her neck. At the best of times her bottom stuck out, bare and round for all to see, but as she was upended and spread out on the couch the ludicrous garment might as well have been dispensed with altogether. If anything, she’d have felt rather more dignified in the nude.
Then there was the attitude of both her chaperone and the nurse, who remained polite and professional but quite clearly found Thrift’s plight amusing. They also, in her opinion, entirely failed to do their duty, both of them indifferent to the greatest humiliation of all, which was Dr Molloy’s attitude. He was outrageously familiar, enjoying her body as he inspected her and barely troubling to conceal his own pleasure. Indeed, he was now standing so close that she could feel the hard lump of his penis where it pressed through his clothes and against her thigh.
After what she was certain was an unnecessarily long time investigating the interior of her rectum he finally withdrew his finger and spoke up.
‘Yes, I think irrigation would be advantageous, so it would. Nurse, if you would be so kind?’
There was no mistaking the slight rise of excitement in his soft, Irish accent as he spoke, and yet there was nothing to be done. Resigned to her fate, Thrift settled her chin on her arms. The nurse came close, wheeling a curious assembly of tubes, nozzles and armatures, all of which linked to a disturbingly large reservoir made of deep red rubber and bulbous with water pressure.
‘The things we do for Empire, eh?’ Dr Molloy chuckled as he pulled off the glove of thin rubber he had worn to probe her. ‘One and one half inches, I think. Just relax.’
He had selected one of the fatter nozzles and Thrift did as she was told, closing her eyes as she let her ring go loose. She felt the nozzle, cold and hard against her sensitive anal flesh, then pushing in to spread her hole. She bit her lip, determined not to show reaction, only to let out a low gasp as her anus distended to take the thickest part of the nozzle. Dr Molloy gave her bottom a gentle pat before reaching up to turn on the spigot that controlled the flow of water. All Thrift felt was a mild chill at the mouth of her anus as the water began to run. Dr Molloy’s hands settled on her bottom cheeks, massaging her flesh.
‘This will help the flow,’ he explained, a statement Thrift felt certain was a lie as his cock was still pressed to her thigh and had begun to move position as it grew increasingly stiff.
She made to object, then thought better of it, knowing that he would not merely deny what he was up to but accuse her of wanton impertinence or some such fabrication, with which both the nurse and her chaperone were sure to agree. If anything her protest was likely to lead to a spanking, while it was impossible to deny the soothing effect of having her bottom cheeks squeezed and spread, for all her shame and indignity.
‘There, isn’t that just grand?’ Dr Molloy remarked as he began to rub his cock very gently on her leg. ‘Just grand it is, to be...’
He broke off with a tut of irritation as the telephone sounded from the adjoining room. The nurse went to answer it but quickly returned to say that he had an urgent call and Thrift was left to contemplate the indignity of her position as the water flowed slowly in up her bottom. She could already feel the weight inside her as her rectum began to swell, a sensation at once unsettling and urgent, making her want to run for the convenient facilities as much as it made her want a stiff penis thrust up her from behind.
The door was still open and she could hear Dr Molloy’s voice, as unctuous as it was grave, although to judge by what he was saying the person on the far end of the line was a severe hypochondriac rather than in genuine need of medical aid. The nurse seemed to have vanished altogether. Only Thrift’s chaperone remained while the volume of water in her rectum was growing rapidly uncomfortable.
‘Er... Miss Simms,’ Thrift managed, her voice thick with embarrassment. ‘Would you be so kind as to turn the spigot off, please?’
Miss Simms had been sitting at the far side of the room, prim and composed as she watched Thrift’s inspection, but now opened her mouth in surprise.
‘I... I really don’t think I should interfere, Miss Thrift,’ she said. ‘I don’t know...’
‘Just turn the little tap,’ Thrift urged.
‘But I...’
‘Miss Simms, turn the tap off, please!’
‘But Miss Thrift...’
‘For goodness sake, girl!’ Thrift exclaimed in rising frustration. ‘Dr Molloy, Dr Molloy!’
The doctor’s voice continued as before, soothing and patient, but addressed to whoever was on the far end of the telephone. Thrift could still feel the pressure growing, now to the point of pain, while she was having to squeeze her bottom hole and clench her cheeks to keep the nozzle in at all.
‘Dr Molloy!’ she yelled.
Finally he responded.
‘One moment, Miss Moncrieff, if you please.’
‘But... oh no, not that... not. Miss Simms, turn the tap off now!’
‘But Miss Thrift, I...’
‘Turn the tap off, Miss Simms, or I promise I’ll spank you the moment we’re done, bare bottom, and never mind who’s watching!’
Miss Simms finally responded, colouring as she got to her feet. Thrift had her teeth gritted against the pressure inside her, while her belly had grown to a distended ball, and relief flooded through her as Miss Simms reached out to turn the spigot, only to give way to horror as new water gushed out into her already straining rectum.
‘The other way!’ she screamed, too late.
The nozzle burst from her anus, followed by an explosion of water from between her open buttocks. A sob broke from her lips, of pain and misery but also of relief as the glistening jet squirted high behind her, reaching almost the full distance across the room to patter down on the floor. Miss Simms gave a gasp of shock and apology as she hastily turned the tap the other way, but it was a pointless gesture. The nozzle was hanging limp from its supporting armature, while the water it had delivered was spurting freely from Thrift’s anus, in gush after gush, each creating further mess on the floor until at last it dried to a trickle. Thrift was speechless, choking with shame as the last of the water bubbled out over her quim to soil her gown and form a rapidly spreading wet patch between her flesh and the couch.
‘You imbecile!’ she spat as she finally opened her eyes, only to find herself looking at the doctor. ‘Er... not you, Dr Molloy, but...’
‘Really, Thrift,’ he interrupted. ‘Can’t you control yourself for one minute? Nurse, clean this mess up. Now, where were we?’
Thrift was left boiling with indignation and shame as the nurse went to work, but also fury, her battered feelings somewhat soothed by the thought of what she would do to Miss Simms once the inspection was over. A simple bare bottom spanking in front of Dr Molloy and the nurse would not be enough, although it would certainly make a good start. There was sure to be a cane around somewhere, if only for the nurse’s discipline, and she would apply that to her chaperone’s bottom, maybe two or even three dozen times. After that she would make Miss Simms suck Dr Molloy’s penis, all the way, and swallow what came out, or even allow him to sodomise the stupid girl first, so she was sucking on a cock which had just been up her bottom.
Her plans for revenge had gone far, far beyond what propriety permitted, even allowing for Dr Molloy’s disgustingly over-familiar behaviour, but that didn’t make them any less satisfying. The spanking, at least, could be safely administered, and Thrift promised herself it would be long and hard, and all the longer and harder because of the sneaking suspicion at the back of Thrift’s mind that Miss Simms had turned the spigot the wrong way on purpose.
The nurse had finished cleaning up and gave Thrift a dirty look before leaving the room with her mop and bucket. Dr Molloy seemed inordinately pleased with himself, and had clearly enjoyed the sight of Thrift’s disgrace, as she now realised that he had come off the telephone and into the room while she was in the middle of expelling her enema. He’d begun to hum a tune again, and gave her bottom another intimate little pat as he spoke once more.
‘Accidents will happen, my dear, and believe me, I have seen it all before. You are at least thoroughly clean, or at least you will be presently.’
As he spoke he had pulled a number of wet wipes from a box. Thrift’s mouth came wide as he touched them to her quim, rubbing in exactly the same way as if he had been deliberately masturbating her. It felt almost irresistibly nice, filling her with the urge to stick her bottom up for more, but also hideously embarrassing. Not that he seemed to realise, or think that there was anything wrong in what he was doing, still humming to himself as he mopped up first her quim and then her anus, to leave her shaking with arousal and humiliation and not knowing if she wanted to punch him or beg for his cock up her ready hole. She did neither, but watched in mounting despair for her own reactions as he consulted his clipboard.
‘My, but that’s a big one!’
‘A big what?’ Thrift demanded, forgetting herself in her shock.
‘A big rectule,’ he replied, ‘which is a cylinder designed to hold documents and so forth. It fits within the subject’s rectum and...’
‘I know what a rectule is, Dr Molloy,’ Thrift interrupted. ‘I have used them before, and I assure you I am quite capable of accommodating them without...’
She broke off. He had lifted the cylinder from the lower part of his instrument tray. It was neither the standard model, a slender tube of hard black rubber, nor that obscene article the size and shape of a cock and designed to be mistaken for a dildo. Either one would have fitted inside her comfortably enough, but as the prospect of attempting to accommodate the thick, black monstrosity up her bottom sank in Thrift’s mouth came slowly open.
‘You were saying, my dear?’ Dr Molloy asked.
Thrift merely made a face as she once more settled her chin on her arms. The horrible thing was going up her bottom anyway, so there was no point in protesting, while she knew that the Department would not have ordered her to wear it without good reason. They never did anything without good reason, although there had been the unfortunate incident where she’d been given a full course of injections, inevitably administered to her bare bottom, but given only due to a mistake in the paperwork.
She closed her eyes as the doctor’s well lubricated finger was once more inserted into her back passage. He began to open her with practised skill, teasing her anus until a second finger slipped inside, then a third. By then Thrift had her eyes screwed up tight and her teeth clamped down hard on her lip, struggling to fight the sensation and wishing her quim wasn’t dribbling quite so copiously. Not that Dr Molloy seemed to notice, humming cheerfully to himself as usual even as he slipped the full bulk of his fist into Thrift’s rectum.
His hand felt enormous, stretching her anus to what she was certain was the very limit, and her eyes had begun to water even before he had began to ease his fist in and out. Her mouth came open, gaping as wide as her bottom hole as little spasms began to run through her belly and sex, like miniature orgasms but agonisingly short of the real thing.

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