Studious_Hustler
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A member of our very own TMF, who prefers to go unnamed, obligingly offered me this fantasy of hers when I was looking for suggestions/requests. I really enjoyed working on her story and I hope you enjoy it equally as much! To check out another one of my stories, why not try The First Idea or April Fools?
Ashley Is Clean
In nearly a decade’s work at the same institution, the nurse had seen and done some strange things. From a certain perspective, that was the whole idea of medicine, wasn’t it? To treat the human body, normally a private matter, with an impersonal, scientific precision. That approach was necessary in order to help people. The nurse had known that, long before she started her medical training. She had been careful to bear it in mind ever since, no matter what kind of assignments she was given. Still, this new one was weird.
“Her name is Ashley,” the nurse’s boss read offhandedly from her computer. “You haven’t seen her before but she’s been in the Fourth Ward for a while, recovering from some pretty serious injuries. The good news is she’s doing better now, so much so that she’s ready to check out and return to normal life. All we need is for you to give her a clean bill of health.”
The nurse had pointed out that, never having even heard of Ashley up till now, she wasn’t qualified to assess the patient’s health. Why didn’t Ashley’s doctor check on her? The nurse’s boss explained, with a toss of her raven hair, that by “clean bill of health” they just meant “physically clean her up.” Apparently during Ashley’s long stay at the hospital, she had gathered dust.
So the nurse found herself in the Fourth Ward, reaching the room that her clipboard told her was Ashley’s. She turned the knob and looked inside. Yes, this was going to be a strange day. Stretched out on the hospital bed was a young woman in her mid-twenties, bound at the wrists and ankles like some kind of lunatic.
_____
The older blonde woman who had just entered shut the door behind her and peered down at Ashley. Sexy nurse, thought Ashley, eying her getup. Impressive the kind of stuff they get away with wearing here. The nurse alighted on the swivel chair next to Ashley’s bed, and fixed her with a bemused stare. Ashley’s brown eyes gazed back defiantly into the nurse’s pale blue ones. Whatever she wants to know, she’s not gonna find out from me, she thought.
“My boss tells me you’ve been doing better lately?” asked the nurse.
“Have I?” returned Ashley with mock-interest. Another silent standoff.
“Well, I’m supposed to clean you up before you leave,” the blonde started again, checking her clipboard. “And according to this, you’re pretty dirty all over.”
“Shit,” Ashley let out. She knew where this was going.
“So first you’ll have to take your clothes off, and then we’ll get started,” finished the nurse. She spoke uncertainly, as if half perturbed by Ashley’s swear, half by the oddity of the situation.
Ashley was wearing an athletic top, some very short shorts, a pair of tightly laced black boots, and no underwear. It was true that she needed a bath. Her darkly tanned skin was coated with an even darker spray of dirt and grime. Where that had come from, in such a pristine hospital room, was unclear.
“I guess you’ll need help getting that off, won’t you?” asked the older woman, indicating Ashley’s clothes and her immobile state. Ashley held her breath and did not answer. The nurse pushed her chair to the foot of the bed and began unlacing the boots, still fixing her patient with that careful stare. She finished the boots and placed them on a bench. Ashley wiggled her unpainted toes a bit, but stopped when the nurse pushed the chair toward her upper body.
“I was told you were in bad shape, but I can’t see any signs of injury,” said the nurse, sliding Ashley’s shirt up from her belly, over her head, and around her arms. “What exactly was wrong with you?” She unclipped each of Ashley’s wrists in turn from the restraints to remove the shirt, reattaching each in turn.
“I was hurt badly,” Ashley managed to say. She was willing her large, perky breasts to stay as relaxed as possible, now that they were in full view of a medical professional. The nurse was doing the shorts now. In another moment Ashley was a complete woman, covered in dirt but well shaved. The tie on her left foot came off, the shorts slipped away, click! went the tie again. The tie on her right foot, the shorts, click! She squirmed involuntarily. The nurse, utter professionalism, placed the tiny shorts neatly on the bench beside the boots and shirt.
A corner of the hospital room was well-endowed with a sink basin, faucet, and an assortment of soaps and cleaning instruments. The nurse washed her hands—maybe procedure, maybe just habit—and plugged the sink. She turned the faucet on full blast, hot. A wave of steam wafted across the room. She pumped cleaner into the basin, one pump, two pumps, three pumps.
Ashley’s muscled body tensed. I could probably snap these handcuffs, she thought. She’d handled sturdier ones before. If she was going to do something, she’d best do it now; in a minute she wouldn’t be able to muster—
The nurse had spied her bellybutton, stopped up with dirt. She was bearing down on it in her swivel chair. “I guess I’ll start with your navel while the sink finishes.” She extended one pink fingernail, and fished it into Ashley’s bellybutton.
The younger woman spasmed for an instant, then regained control. Much of the dirt removed, her bellybutton began to resemble itself again. The nurse was looking disapprovingly at the rest of her midriff. The areas that had been clothed were even dirtier than those that hadn’t been.
Gloop! went the giant sponge into the thick, soapy water. The nurse was in up to her elbows. “I’m going to clean off your whole abdomen to start, that should be easy enough,” she informed Ashley.
Ashley burst into laughter that could not be covered up, even after she caught herself a second later. It was not fair, the nurse had struck at her sides with that sponge too quickly, before she was ready. The giant sponge slurped up and down across her sides and belly, and the nurse seemed gratified as the grime cleared away. “Sorry if this tickles a bit,” she offered.
“It doesn’t,” Ashley told her forcefully. Yeah, right.
The nurse worked her way down, tastefully avoiding the privates as much as possible, and reaching the legs. Ashley knew that it was going to get worse soon, but she was going to hold out. “Hmm,” murmured the nurse, seeing Ashley’s muddy feet with obvious unhappiness. “I need to do something about these.”
Ashley sat through the entire sponging of both feet without a sound or a movement. She was proud of this until she realized that “do something” did not refer to the sponging. The nurse ran a bristly, aggressive-looking tool under the faucet stream, then went to work on her soles. Ashley’s feet were not her most sensitive body part, but they were the part where she lost it.
“Ahahahahahshit!” she blurted, trying to kick the nurse in the face. That was hard when both her ankles were tightly bound to the bed. Professional as ever, the nurse ran that nasty long brush under Ashley’s toes and, for good measure, over the tops of her feet. Why the hell did the tops of Ashley’s feet, of all places, have to be ticklish? By the time both feet were in satisfactory condition, Ashley was giggling madly quite independently of whether she was being touched at that moment.
“I’m sorry this is so difficult for you, but we’re already halfway done,” the nurse reassured her. “Ehehehe,” Ashley replied.
“Next I’m just going to wash your breasts,” her blonde torturer intoned, reaching again for that stupid big sponge. She began to do just as she had promised. “Aaaahahahahaahastoooop,” Ashley gasped, “stopit stop!”
The sponge didn’t stop. In fact, the nurse seemed to press and tickle all the more insistently. She used her slender, spidery fingers to work at a spot on Ashley’s heaving right boob where the dirt didn’t want to come off. Ashley thrashed, laughing, her body clenching and tightening.
Then it got bad. Without any spoken warning, the nurse plunged the massive, porous sponge into the deep, smooth cavern of her left armpit. Red lights flashed behind Ashley’s ratcheted-shut eyelids. She lost all consciousness except that of the soapy, tingly thing invading her underarm. Its corrugated mass tickled her skin like a million tiny hands, each microscopic sponge-bubble dipping into the side of her armpit, then pulling away, then scraping in again as it moved. Ashley was screaming, and she contorted her body sideways to try to crush the sponge between herself and the bed. The restraints didn’t let her accomplish much.
“Oh, so this is a bad spot for you, is it?” mused the nurse. “If you don’t let me finish the job nicely on the other one, I’m going to really tickle you!”
“Noooooahh!” Ashley shrieked. The sponge was gone from her sopping left armpit, but it was going at her equally sensitive right one instantly, and the nurse was using her left hand to pin Ashley against the bed. She was tickling Ashley’s tummy with all five fingers, reaching in and out of her bellybutton, holding her down so she could not move. “Oh golly, goshshitstopahhahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
It was torture, but Ashley was in an ecstasy. She could not squirm away from the tickling in her armpits, on her stomach… Her mouth was wide open as if to bite something enormous, her sweet brown eyes still closed. Her mop of brown hair was drenched in sweat.
“We’re done!” announced the nurse abruptly, pulling the sponge away. She dipped the cussed thing back into the sink, filling it up again. “Except your neck and face, you got dirty there too.” She brushed it across Ashley’s forehead. If the water had been cool, it would have been pleasant; as it was, it was, at least, not maddening.
I survived… dammit, I survived. It had been much worse than Ashley had anticipated, and she was not likely to tell friends the story of her humiliating tickle-torture at the hospital. This was a thing to just forget. But she had made it through, with her mind still intact.
“What do you think, girls, you two want to handle the next round while I go check on the other patients?”
That was the nurse speaking. But to whom?
Ashley opened her eyes, tear drops creasing both cheeks. Not one but three sexy nurses were looking down at her. The two new ones who had come in during her raucous, blind torture were possibly even sexier than the first. At least, they were younger, bustier, and if the gleams in their eyes meant anything, meaner.
_____
“Yeah, we’ll take care of her for awhile,” said the shorter nurse trainee. “You ready for the next go-over, Ashley? ‘Intensive cleaning.’” The spread-eagled patient looked up at her balefully. “Don’t leave, nurse,” Ashley gagged.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure the girls can tell the difference between clean and dirty.” The elder nurse was already opening the door to exit. “I’ll leave my clipboard here so they can make sure to get everything right.” The door shut behind her.
“We’ve been watching you,” the shorter nurse trainee informed Ashley helpfully. “We understand what you need. You’re certainly enjoying being cleaned!”
The taller nurse trainee walked to the foot of the bed and bent over Ashley’s bare feet. “I’ll make sure you don’t enjoy it too much, don’t worry.”
“Wait Dottie, we ought to check the clipboard before doing anything rash!” The shorter girl snatched up the clipboard and scanned its contents. “Oh my, it says here that Ashley is incredibly ticklish! But that can’t be! We would have noticed.”
Ashley made a jerky movement as if to flee from the room. Unfortunately, she was chained up. “It doesn’t say that,” she spat.
“Tummy is a seven out of ten on the ticklish scale! Oh me, oh my. But the feet are even worse! Eight out of ten.”
“Eight out of ten is enough for me,” said the taller girl, hovering her wiggling fingers, tipped with black fake nails, an inch from Ashley’s toes.
“Hold on, Dottie! You have to consider the fact that her titties are a staggering nine on the ticklishness scale! That’s even worse than the feet! That’s actually a nearly perfect ticklish score, if I’m doing my maths right! Ashley darling, don’t you agree that Dottie ought to consider tickle-torturing your tits instead of your feet?”
“I don’t know what this is,” Ashley returned in a steadier voice than she had mustered in a while, “but you sickos are gonna be in a shitload of trouble when I get ouHOWOHWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!”
“If you get out, not when, bitch,” sniggered Dottie, digging the fake black nails into Ashley’s soft, clean soles. Ashley’s laughter was mounting in pitch and volume. Her face was pink as watermelon flesh. “Hand me one of those skinny brushes, Sherry, I think somebody forgot to clean between her toes.”
Sherry tossed her coworker a handful of cleaning implements, which Dottie began to test one-by-one on an increasingly desperate Ashley. Sherry’s attention was still fixed on the clipboard, where she had kept one detail secret.
“Dottie,” she began, “it says here that Ashley’s armpits are ‘hyper’ ticklish, and then it says twenty out of ten. But that couldn’t mean twenty out of ten on the ticklish scale, because that’s not possible, right? You can’t have a numerator higher than the denominator. That’s like ‘this one goes to eleven’ or some shit.”
“Instead of going on about how we should clean Ashley, come over here and help me clean Ashley.” Dottie was having such a good time with Ashley’s feet and toes that she could not be truly annoyed with Sherry. What kind of a time Ashley was having, it was more difficult to tell. Her expression between silent gasps of hilarity was utter horror. But her nipples were hard.
“You’re completely right, I should quit reading and get down to some experimentation.” Sherry picked up a small blunt object, flicked a switch, and brandished it at Ashley’s gyrating upper body as the device began to vibrate rapidly. “Like for example, I have no idea what the hell this thing does. But how will I know until I’ve tried it on some underarms that qualify as a twenty out of ten for ticklish?” She slowly moved closer to the bed, where Ashley was stammering incomprehensibly. Dottie had discovered the unique effectiveness of pumice stones, and she was using the tip of one to draw calligraphy on her patient’s arches. Every few seconds, just for variety, she would leave off with the pumice and skitter both hands’ fingers over one sole or the other, an excruciatingly light touch.
Ashley couldn’t stop the buzzing object as it dove into her expansive armpit. She reacted to its movement more ticklishly than to anything before in her life. She gulped for air, convulsed in her restraints, her whole head beet red. The small amount of hair on her well-shaved body all stood on end. “NO! Haha! No! Haha!” she expectorated. A blissful grin split Sherry’s face, but her only reply was to force the vibrating tickler further into Ashley’s yawning underarm. As it reached the bottom, her possessed stream of curses, rebukes and gasps finally broke. She laughed. Her mad thrashing dissolved into helpless squirming. She simply laughed, trapped there on the bed, laughed like a schoolgirl pinned and tickled by two of her girlfriends. Her resistance was over, and now she might be here, getting tickled, forever.
Bored with the selection of tools, Dottie had given up cleaning Ashley’s feet. She caught one in the vice of her elbow, and attacked the girl’s toes with the tips of her nails. Her other hand dug into the skin of the trapped foot’s sole. It dragged a pattern up and down, faster and harder. The foot that was not being assailed tried to protect the one that was. Dottie obliged it by switching her focus.
Sherry had detached the soap dispenser from the wall and was pumping enormous amounts of cleaner into the twin basins of Ashley’s armpits. She spun her wet hands in these receptacles, frothing the soap and sending the girl’s ticklish laughter up an octave. She found a handful of different-sized brushes, and used them as one to spread cleaner inside the sensitive valleys and over the mountainous breasts. She pricked at the nipples with sponges no bigger than insects.
“It would be a shame if by the time we got done with all this experimenting, Ashley babe had sweated herself so much that we needed to start the cleaning all over,” considered Dottie. “Also, can you imagine how upset the nurse would be if she found out her patient got one leg free and accidentally kicked over a potted plant, and spilled dirt all over herself again?”
“AaaaaHAHAHAaaaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHhhhhaaaaaAAAAA!” laughed Ashley, at this joke.
_____
The nurse’s boss tapped on the keyboard with French-manicured nails, finishing another health report. She tossed her raven hair. Robert was making Cuban steak sandwiches for dinner in an hour. Just a few things to tie up first.
“Ashley is clean,” the blonde nurse had cheerily told her a minute ago, popping into her office. She’d left the two trainees to make sure the patient got her money’s worth. Sending those two in the first place had been the nurse’s boss’ idea. She was proud of it. The last time she had done that, without being asked, the client had enjoyed herself so much that she had ended up paying double the original agreement, out of sheer gratitude. She had boasted so highly of the experience on an Internet forum that Ashley had come to the same hospital herself. The way the nurse’s boss saw it, this could be the start of a new side business. After all, London was a big city, with lots of young women itching for excitement.
“I’m going home in thirty,” the nurse’s boss had told her employee. “But you should leave Sheryl and Dot in there with Ashley for a few more hours. Then you can check in to make sure everything’s going well. We’ve got nurses on duty around the clock, so we can keep it going for as long as we deem necessary.”
The way the nurse’s boss saw it, this could be the start of a new understanding of the senses. Her medical training told her that, when it came to physical pain, women were better suited by evolution than men to withstand long bouts of input. But what about other sorts of sensation, pleasure for instance? Possibly women’s bodies were similarly well-prepared, making Ashley an ideal test subject with less likelihood for negative outcomes. But if not—well, at least they would learn something.
Ashley Is Clean
In nearly a decade’s work at the same institution, the nurse had seen and done some strange things. From a certain perspective, that was the whole idea of medicine, wasn’t it? To treat the human body, normally a private matter, with an impersonal, scientific precision. That approach was necessary in order to help people. The nurse had known that, long before she started her medical training. She had been careful to bear it in mind ever since, no matter what kind of assignments she was given. Still, this new one was weird.
“Her name is Ashley,” the nurse’s boss read offhandedly from her computer. “You haven’t seen her before but she’s been in the Fourth Ward for a while, recovering from some pretty serious injuries. The good news is she’s doing better now, so much so that she’s ready to check out and return to normal life. All we need is for you to give her a clean bill of health.”
The nurse had pointed out that, never having even heard of Ashley up till now, she wasn’t qualified to assess the patient’s health. Why didn’t Ashley’s doctor check on her? The nurse’s boss explained, with a toss of her raven hair, that by “clean bill of health” they just meant “physically clean her up.” Apparently during Ashley’s long stay at the hospital, she had gathered dust.
So the nurse found herself in the Fourth Ward, reaching the room that her clipboard told her was Ashley’s. She turned the knob and looked inside. Yes, this was going to be a strange day. Stretched out on the hospital bed was a young woman in her mid-twenties, bound at the wrists and ankles like some kind of lunatic.
_____
The older blonde woman who had just entered shut the door behind her and peered down at Ashley. Sexy nurse, thought Ashley, eying her getup. Impressive the kind of stuff they get away with wearing here. The nurse alighted on the swivel chair next to Ashley’s bed, and fixed her with a bemused stare. Ashley’s brown eyes gazed back defiantly into the nurse’s pale blue ones. Whatever she wants to know, she’s not gonna find out from me, she thought.
“My boss tells me you’ve been doing better lately?” asked the nurse.
“Have I?” returned Ashley with mock-interest. Another silent standoff.
“Well, I’m supposed to clean you up before you leave,” the blonde started again, checking her clipboard. “And according to this, you’re pretty dirty all over.”
“Shit,” Ashley let out. She knew where this was going.
“So first you’ll have to take your clothes off, and then we’ll get started,” finished the nurse. She spoke uncertainly, as if half perturbed by Ashley’s swear, half by the oddity of the situation.
Ashley was wearing an athletic top, some very short shorts, a pair of tightly laced black boots, and no underwear. It was true that she needed a bath. Her darkly tanned skin was coated with an even darker spray of dirt and grime. Where that had come from, in such a pristine hospital room, was unclear.
“I guess you’ll need help getting that off, won’t you?” asked the older woman, indicating Ashley’s clothes and her immobile state. Ashley held her breath and did not answer. The nurse pushed her chair to the foot of the bed and began unlacing the boots, still fixing her patient with that careful stare. She finished the boots and placed them on a bench. Ashley wiggled her unpainted toes a bit, but stopped when the nurse pushed the chair toward her upper body.
“I was told you were in bad shape, but I can’t see any signs of injury,” said the nurse, sliding Ashley’s shirt up from her belly, over her head, and around her arms. “What exactly was wrong with you?” She unclipped each of Ashley’s wrists in turn from the restraints to remove the shirt, reattaching each in turn.
“I was hurt badly,” Ashley managed to say. She was willing her large, perky breasts to stay as relaxed as possible, now that they were in full view of a medical professional. The nurse was doing the shorts now. In another moment Ashley was a complete woman, covered in dirt but well shaved. The tie on her left foot came off, the shorts slipped away, click! went the tie again. The tie on her right foot, the shorts, click! She squirmed involuntarily. The nurse, utter professionalism, placed the tiny shorts neatly on the bench beside the boots and shirt.
A corner of the hospital room was well-endowed with a sink basin, faucet, and an assortment of soaps and cleaning instruments. The nurse washed her hands—maybe procedure, maybe just habit—and plugged the sink. She turned the faucet on full blast, hot. A wave of steam wafted across the room. She pumped cleaner into the basin, one pump, two pumps, three pumps.
Ashley’s muscled body tensed. I could probably snap these handcuffs, she thought. She’d handled sturdier ones before. If she was going to do something, she’d best do it now; in a minute she wouldn’t be able to muster—
The nurse had spied her bellybutton, stopped up with dirt. She was bearing down on it in her swivel chair. “I guess I’ll start with your navel while the sink finishes.” She extended one pink fingernail, and fished it into Ashley’s bellybutton.
The younger woman spasmed for an instant, then regained control. Much of the dirt removed, her bellybutton began to resemble itself again. The nurse was looking disapprovingly at the rest of her midriff. The areas that had been clothed were even dirtier than those that hadn’t been.
Gloop! went the giant sponge into the thick, soapy water. The nurse was in up to her elbows. “I’m going to clean off your whole abdomen to start, that should be easy enough,” she informed Ashley.
Ashley burst into laughter that could not be covered up, even after she caught herself a second later. It was not fair, the nurse had struck at her sides with that sponge too quickly, before she was ready. The giant sponge slurped up and down across her sides and belly, and the nurse seemed gratified as the grime cleared away. “Sorry if this tickles a bit,” she offered.
“It doesn’t,” Ashley told her forcefully. Yeah, right.
The nurse worked her way down, tastefully avoiding the privates as much as possible, and reaching the legs. Ashley knew that it was going to get worse soon, but she was going to hold out. “Hmm,” murmured the nurse, seeing Ashley’s muddy feet with obvious unhappiness. “I need to do something about these.”
Ashley sat through the entire sponging of both feet without a sound or a movement. She was proud of this until she realized that “do something” did not refer to the sponging. The nurse ran a bristly, aggressive-looking tool under the faucet stream, then went to work on her soles. Ashley’s feet were not her most sensitive body part, but they were the part where she lost it.
“Ahahahahahshit!” she blurted, trying to kick the nurse in the face. That was hard when both her ankles were tightly bound to the bed. Professional as ever, the nurse ran that nasty long brush under Ashley’s toes and, for good measure, over the tops of her feet. Why the hell did the tops of Ashley’s feet, of all places, have to be ticklish? By the time both feet were in satisfactory condition, Ashley was giggling madly quite independently of whether she was being touched at that moment.
“I’m sorry this is so difficult for you, but we’re already halfway done,” the nurse reassured her. “Ehehehe,” Ashley replied.
“Next I’m just going to wash your breasts,” her blonde torturer intoned, reaching again for that stupid big sponge. She began to do just as she had promised. “Aaaahahahahaahastoooop,” Ashley gasped, “stopit stop!”
The sponge didn’t stop. In fact, the nurse seemed to press and tickle all the more insistently. She used her slender, spidery fingers to work at a spot on Ashley’s heaving right boob where the dirt didn’t want to come off. Ashley thrashed, laughing, her body clenching and tightening.
Then it got bad. Without any spoken warning, the nurse plunged the massive, porous sponge into the deep, smooth cavern of her left armpit. Red lights flashed behind Ashley’s ratcheted-shut eyelids. She lost all consciousness except that of the soapy, tingly thing invading her underarm. Its corrugated mass tickled her skin like a million tiny hands, each microscopic sponge-bubble dipping into the side of her armpit, then pulling away, then scraping in again as it moved. Ashley was screaming, and she contorted her body sideways to try to crush the sponge between herself and the bed. The restraints didn’t let her accomplish much.
“Oh, so this is a bad spot for you, is it?” mused the nurse. “If you don’t let me finish the job nicely on the other one, I’m going to really tickle you!”
“Noooooahh!” Ashley shrieked. The sponge was gone from her sopping left armpit, but it was going at her equally sensitive right one instantly, and the nurse was using her left hand to pin Ashley against the bed. She was tickling Ashley’s tummy with all five fingers, reaching in and out of her bellybutton, holding her down so she could not move. “Oh golly, goshshitstopahhahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
It was torture, but Ashley was in an ecstasy. She could not squirm away from the tickling in her armpits, on her stomach… Her mouth was wide open as if to bite something enormous, her sweet brown eyes still closed. Her mop of brown hair was drenched in sweat.
“We’re done!” announced the nurse abruptly, pulling the sponge away. She dipped the cussed thing back into the sink, filling it up again. “Except your neck and face, you got dirty there too.” She brushed it across Ashley’s forehead. If the water had been cool, it would have been pleasant; as it was, it was, at least, not maddening.
I survived… dammit, I survived. It had been much worse than Ashley had anticipated, and she was not likely to tell friends the story of her humiliating tickle-torture at the hospital. This was a thing to just forget. But she had made it through, with her mind still intact.
“What do you think, girls, you two want to handle the next round while I go check on the other patients?”
That was the nurse speaking. But to whom?
Ashley opened her eyes, tear drops creasing both cheeks. Not one but three sexy nurses were looking down at her. The two new ones who had come in during her raucous, blind torture were possibly even sexier than the first. At least, they were younger, bustier, and if the gleams in their eyes meant anything, meaner.
_____
“Yeah, we’ll take care of her for awhile,” said the shorter nurse trainee. “You ready for the next go-over, Ashley? ‘Intensive cleaning.’” The spread-eagled patient looked up at her balefully. “Don’t leave, nurse,” Ashley gagged.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure the girls can tell the difference between clean and dirty.” The elder nurse was already opening the door to exit. “I’ll leave my clipboard here so they can make sure to get everything right.” The door shut behind her.
“We’ve been watching you,” the shorter nurse trainee informed Ashley helpfully. “We understand what you need. You’re certainly enjoying being cleaned!”
The taller nurse trainee walked to the foot of the bed and bent over Ashley’s bare feet. “I’ll make sure you don’t enjoy it too much, don’t worry.”
“Wait Dottie, we ought to check the clipboard before doing anything rash!” The shorter girl snatched up the clipboard and scanned its contents. “Oh my, it says here that Ashley is incredibly ticklish! But that can’t be! We would have noticed.”
Ashley made a jerky movement as if to flee from the room. Unfortunately, she was chained up. “It doesn’t say that,” she spat.
“Tummy is a seven out of ten on the ticklish scale! Oh me, oh my. But the feet are even worse! Eight out of ten.”
“Eight out of ten is enough for me,” said the taller girl, hovering her wiggling fingers, tipped with black fake nails, an inch from Ashley’s toes.
“Hold on, Dottie! You have to consider the fact that her titties are a staggering nine on the ticklishness scale! That’s even worse than the feet! That’s actually a nearly perfect ticklish score, if I’m doing my maths right! Ashley darling, don’t you agree that Dottie ought to consider tickle-torturing your tits instead of your feet?”
“I don’t know what this is,” Ashley returned in a steadier voice than she had mustered in a while, “but you sickos are gonna be in a shitload of trouble when I get ouHOWOHWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!”
“If you get out, not when, bitch,” sniggered Dottie, digging the fake black nails into Ashley’s soft, clean soles. Ashley’s laughter was mounting in pitch and volume. Her face was pink as watermelon flesh. “Hand me one of those skinny brushes, Sherry, I think somebody forgot to clean between her toes.”
Sherry tossed her coworker a handful of cleaning implements, which Dottie began to test one-by-one on an increasingly desperate Ashley. Sherry’s attention was still fixed on the clipboard, where she had kept one detail secret.
“Dottie,” she began, “it says here that Ashley’s armpits are ‘hyper’ ticklish, and then it says twenty out of ten. But that couldn’t mean twenty out of ten on the ticklish scale, because that’s not possible, right? You can’t have a numerator higher than the denominator. That’s like ‘this one goes to eleven’ or some shit.”
“Instead of going on about how we should clean Ashley, come over here and help me clean Ashley.” Dottie was having such a good time with Ashley’s feet and toes that she could not be truly annoyed with Sherry. What kind of a time Ashley was having, it was more difficult to tell. Her expression between silent gasps of hilarity was utter horror. But her nipples were hard.
“You’re completely right, I should quit reading and get down to some experimentation.” Sherry picked up a small blunt object, flicked a switch, and brandished it at Ashley’s gyrating upper body as the device began to vibrate rapidly. “Like for example, I have no idea what the hell this thing does. But how will I know until I’ve tried it on some underarms that qualify as a twenty out of ten for ticklish?” She slowly moved closer to the bed, where Ashley was stammering incomprehensibly. Dottie had discovered the unique effectiveness of pumice stones, and she was using the tip of one to draw calligraphy on her patient’s arches. Every few seconds, just for variety, she would leave off with the pumice and skitter both hands’ fingers over one sole or the other, an excruciatingly light touch.
Ashley couldn’t stop the buzzing object as it dove into her expansive armpit. She reacted to its movement more ticklishly than to anything before in her life. She gulped for air, convulsed in her restraints, her whole head beet red. The small amount of hair on her well-shaved body all stood on end. “NO! Haha! No! Haha!” she expectorated. A blissful grin split Sherry’s face, but her only reply was to force the vibrating tickler further into Ashley’s yawning underarm. As it reached the bottom, her possessed stream of curses, rebukes and gasps finally broke. She laughed. Her mad thrashing dissolved into helpless squirming. She simply laughed, trapped there on the bed, laughed like a schoolgirl pinned and tickled by two of her girlfriends. Her resistance was over, and now she might be here, getting tickled, forever.
Bored with the selection of tools, Dottie had given up cleaning Ashley’s feet. She caught one in the vice of her elbow, and attacked the girl’s toes with the tips of her nails. Her other hand dug into the skin of the trapped foot’s sole. It dragged a pattern up and down, faster and harder. The foot that was not being assailed tried to protect the one that was. Dottie obliged it by switching her focus.
Sherry had detached the soap dispenser from the wall and was pumping enormous amounts of cleaner into the twin basins of Ashley’s armpits. She spun her wet hands in these receptacles, frothing the soap and sending the girl’s ticklish laughter up an octave. She found a handful of different-sized brushes, and used them as one to spread cleaner inside the sensitive valleys and over the mountainous breasts. She pricked at the nipples with sponges no bigger than insects.
“It would be a shame if by the time we got done with all this experimenting, Ashley babe had sweated herself so much that we needed to start the cleaning all over,” considered Dottie. “Also, can you imagine how upset the nurse would be if she found out her patient got one leg free and accidentally kicked over a potted plant, and spilled dirt all over herself again?”
“AaaaaHAHAHAaaaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHhhhhaaaaaAAAAA!” laughed Ashley, at this joke.
_____
The nurse’s boss tapped on the keyboard with French-manicured nails, finishing another health report. She tossed her raven hair. Robert was making Cuban steak sandwiches for dinner in an hour. Just a few things to tie up first.
“Ashley is clean,” the blonde nurse had cheerily told her a minute ago, popping into her office. She’d left the two trainees to make sure the patient got her money’s worth. Sending those two in the first place had been the nurse’s boss’ idea. She was proud of it. The last time she had done that, without being asked, the client had enjoyed herself so much that she had ended up paying double the original agreement, out of sheer gratitude. She had boasted so highly of the experience on an Internet forum that Ashley had come to the same hospital herself. The way the nurse’s boss saw it, this could be the start of a new side business. After all, London was a big city, with lots of young women itching for excitement.
“I’m going home in thirty,” the nurse’s boss had told her employee. “But you should leave Sheryl and Dot in there with Ashley for a few more hours. Then you can check in to make sure everything’s going well. We’ve got nurses on duty around the clock, so we can keep it going for as long as we deem necessary.”
The way the nurse’s boss saw it, this could be the start of a new understanding of the senses. Her medical training told her that, when it came to physical pain, women were better suited by evolution than men to withstand long bouts of input. But what about other sorts of sensation, pleasure for instance? Possibly women’s bodies were similarly well-prepared, making Ashley an ideal test subject with less likelihood for negative outcomes. But if not—well, at least they would learn something.
