Chapter 1

Major Maurice ‘Stuffy’ Prestwick left the meeting with a frown on his face. Logically, he should be pleased, as the Committee had agreed to every detail of his suggestion. However, although everything he’d said had been the truth, he’d omitted one, vital fact. That he had a personal interest, not merely a professional one, in the appointment he’d proposed. He considered, then rejected, the idea of returning to the Committee and confessing; he should have included his interest in his original presentation. Besides, there was nothing ‘going on’, and he had mentioned his professional association with the nurse.

He arrived back at the Centre, applied his eye to the scanner to open the outer door, and his palm to open the inner, and entered. Late morning, the routine activities had ended. A couple of the residents were walking, naked as usual, on treadmills. The others, obviously, were occupied in some manner in their cells. Indeed, the sound of a vigorous spanking was clearly audible from one cell.

He made his way to the office, where former Regimental Sergeant Major Reg Smith was chatting to one of the other trainers, a pot of coffee stood on the table next to them.

“Reg.” he said, “Sassy.” Pause. “I take it Ten earned herself a spanking?”

“Actually,” Reg smiled, “Sassy here had a word with her. Suggested if she wanted a spanking, she ask for it, instead of acting out to get it.”

“Yes, sir. I thought, y’know, after she’s been here all this time, why was she still acting up? I mean, she’s not the first to get a kick out of a spanking, is she?”

“No. And you’re right. I’m glad you thought of it. Well. I also got what I was asking for. Sassy, you met Sister Sanders at the last wedding we had here – Skipper Bill, Candy and Bennie ... I mean Etty – and Reg and I know her from active service.”

“Yes, sir. I don’t think ... I mean, I never saw ... a QARANC Major in Mess Dress before. She’s impressive.”

“That she is. And I’ve got permission to recruit her. If, of course, she’s willing to be on call 24/7.”

“That’s good ... isn’t it?” the former Bombardier questioned.

The officer sighed. “Yes, it is. I’m going to call now.” He sat at his desk, while the other two looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

‘Sassy’ Wellings stood. “I’m going to take a wander round, S’maj.”

“Good enough.”

Major Prestwick was holding the phone handset. “Oh, hello. I’d like to speak to Sister Sanders, if I may, please? Or leave a message.”

Reg could hear the squawks from the phone in response, but not, of course, the content.

“Oh, right. Thank you. If you could ask her to call Major Prestwick at the Training Centre when she’s off duty? Thank you.” He put the handset down.

“Okay, sir. What’s bugging you?” Reg caught his CO’s eyes.

“Can’t fool you, can I? As I was leaving the Committee, I realised that I hadn’t mentioned that I had an ... interest ... in the candidate I was proposing, beyond her qualifications. Felt guilty for not mentioning it.”

Reg smiled. “Well sir, do you want my opinion?”

“Of course, old friend.”

Reg turned serious. “Well, as an old friend, and completely unbiased, of course, Major ... Sister ... Sanders is far the best candidate for the role we have in mind, both from her background in the military, and in sheer competence. Knowing you, there’s no presently existing relationship beyond comradeship. Even if a closer relationship was to form, I don’t see how that could be detrimental to discipline.”

“Thank you, Reg.”

“And after lunch, Ten ... Linda Burgin ... could reduce your tension, perhaps? You know, Boss, she might be a candidate for an informal apprenticeship with our nurse, assuming Sister Sanders accepts the job.”

The officer snorted. “Thanks, Reg. You might be right. Both ways.”

Lunch – sandwiches – came and went. The officer went to cell number Ten. Linda Burgin, IS29/10, looked round from her laptop with a smile, slipped off her chair and knelt in front of him. “May I serve you, sir?”

“You may...”

She reached out to loosen his shorts, but he shook his head. “Stand for me, Ten.”

She obeyed, and adopted the position all the trainees were taught; feet apart, upright, arms folded behind her back, eyes down. He walked around her, looking her over, firstly with his eyes, then his hands. Her bum was toned perfection, her breasts, while well supported, were heavy and large enough to sag a little. He pinched her nipples lightly, eliciting gasps. His hand, between her legs, found heat and copious secretions.

“Well, Ten, you come easily, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My idea is, you ride me and see how many times you can come before I do, okay?”

She smiled broadly. “Yes, sir!”

He lay on the narrow cot in the room, and she climbed on to straddle him. Sliding down his rigid ‘pole’ their mounds bumped and she began to grind against him. Although a little preoccupied, he was very aware of tight, slick, heat. All the women were taught Kegel exercises, and Linda was obviously assiduous in practising them. His hands went irresistibly to her heavy orbs, her nipples, hard and erect attracted his attention and pinching them triggered her first, mild, orgasm. Multi-orgasmic, she shivered through three more before he could hold out no longer; his ejaculation triggered a fifth, epic, orgasm, and she flopped down on top of him. He was almost unconscious himself.

A couple of minutes later, she stirred and tried to sit up.

“Stay, Ten,” he commanded.

“But...”

“That was very good. Most satisfying. You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir, but...”

“Over two years of your five-year indenture?”

“Yes, sir...”

“But you haven’t settled in to any particular skill,” he touched her lips to forestall a comment, “that’s not a criticism, just a comment. Would you be interested in studying nursing? We’re hoping to appoint a full-time nurse, matron, I suppose. Would you be interested in working alongside her?”

“Yes, sir. Interested, yes. But if I’m no good at it?”

“We’ll let our specialist be the judge of that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Why don’t we shower?”

“I’d like that, sir.”

The joint shower was sensual pleasure for both participants.

“Prestwick.”

“Hello! This is Sarah Sanders. You asked that I ring you.”

“I did! Thank you for calling me back. When we met at your brother’s wedding, I had an idea, and I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh, really?” Amusement was clear in her tone.

“Indeed. I was hoping I could meet you to talk about it. Perhaps you’d like to have dinner with me this evening?”

“That would be lovely! Where will you take me?”

“I was thinking of the Park House Restaurant. Everyone seems to think it’s very good.”

“Wow! Sounds wonderful. Do you mind picking me up here?”

“Not at all. I assumed I would. Six-thirty work for you?”

“Absolutely! Dress?”

“It’s pretty upmarket. Mess Dress Uniform again?”

“I can do that. It’s about the best outfit I own these days.”

“See you later, then ... Sarah.”

“That’s a point. What shall I call you? Major? Maurice?” There was a pause, then, “Or will ‘Stuffy’ do?” He could hear the amusement in her voice.

“Maurice, or ‘Stuffy’ is fine. Your choice.”

“Good enough then, Stuffy. I’ll see you later.”

He asked one of the trainers to drive, though the Centre minibus was hardly as impressive as a limousine. But he handed Sarah into the back and sat with her for the short drive to the park. If the Maitre d’ was unimpressed by their mode of arrival, he was with their dress.

“Welcome to the Park House, Major Prestwick, Major Sanders. I’ve put you in the patio room, since you said you wanted to have a private conversation, Major.” He smiled at Sarah Sanders, “You lend elegance to our establishment, Major.”

She smiled back, dimples showing. “Thank you so much! But there’s no need to call me Major. That’ll just get confusing. Perhaps you could call me Sister?”

“Of course. Thank you, Sister. Won’t you come with me?”

It was as formal a meal as they could have had almost anywhere; soup, a roast, cheese, apple pie; all locally sourced, of course, even the wines, except for a rather good brandy. The latter, they were informed, was thanks to a certain barge skipper.

“That would be my brother,” Sarah smiled, responding to the Maitre d’s comment. “I didn’t know he’d taken to importing wine.”

“Ah! I wondered about the name.”

“Yes, it’s not that uncommon, but Bill is my brother. As far as I know, he’s the only barge skipper trading with the Continent. I daresay someone’ll catch on and start competing eventually.”

The Maitre d’ left them to enjoy their brandy.

“Well, Stuffy...” Sarah teased, “are you going to trot out your proposal?”

He coloured faintly, but answered steadily enough. “Yes, I am. You understand the purpose of the Centre?”

“I think so. It’s strange to me, but your residents ... trainees? ... seem to actually be quite happy. I’ve talked to Etty at some length.”

“That’s good. The thing is, we feel there’s a need for a medical presence. Not a doctor, they’re in short supply anyway, but a competent medical professional who can decide whether someone needs a doctor. Who can administer first aid, hand out medication. Advise on aches and pains. That’s just an initial list, by the way. Several of us have observed you in action in field hospitals, and believe you have the qualities we’re looking for. It would be a full-time position with accommodation, food, an on-call requirement, and we can pay better than the hospital. Not to mention you’d be your own boss to a large extent.”

Sarah was sitting, her eyes fixed on his. He couldn’t read her expression. She nodded slowly. “That’s an ... interesting ... proposal, Stuffy.” She sighed. “I’ll be honest that work in the hospital is less satisfying than it used to be.” She paused. “I’m not impulsive, and I’ll need to think about it. If I accept, there’ll be four weeks notice for the hospital.”