The Submissive Nurse Obeyed Again

Several weeks had passed since the last time he had forced me to my knees and left my body trembling for days. Long enough for the bruises to disappear and for my routine to cover everything again with that clean, proper layer everyone else liked so much. At the hospital, I was still the same efficient woman, the one who spoke softly, smiled at the patients, and solved problems without making a fuss.

But inside, I was a fucking mess. Not because I regretted it, but for the opposite reason. I missed him with an intensity I was ashamed to acknowledge even when I was alone. I missed the weight of his hand on the back of my neck, his clipped voice, the way he reduced me to something simple and obedient when the rest of my life was unbearable noise.

In the middle of the morning, I was checking a medication when I felt my phone vibrate inside the pocket of my scrub jacket. I knew I shouldn’t look at it then, but the vibration shot through me like an electric charge. I stepped away from the nurses’ station for a few seconds, opened my email, and found a single line.

“Today you’re mine again. Don’t make me come in looking for you.”

My mouth went dry. I looked around on pure instinct, as if I might see him leaning against a wall with that insolent calm he always had. He wasn’t there. Or perhaps he was, and I simply didn’t know where. Far from reassuring me, that detail made me suddenly wet.

A second message arrived almost immediately. “Go to the bathroom. Take off your panties. Put them in your pocket. You have five minutes.”

For a moment I stood motionless, tray in hand and heart racing. I should have told him to go fuck himself. I should have blocked the email, alerted security, done anything reasonable. Instead, I felt a thick heat sliding between my legs and knew I had already lost.

I went into the staff bathroom and locked the door. I glanced at myself in the mirror for barely a second: tight ponytail, white uniform, the face of an impeccable professional. I looked like a woman who had control of her life. The image almost made me laugh.

I lowered my uniform pants and then my panties, pale cotton, ridiculous in their innocence. As I dragged them down my thighs, I felt the first rush of vulnerability, cold air striking directly against my already-swollen pussy. My hands trembled. I took them off completely, balled them up, and slipped them into the right pocket of my scrub jacket, beside my pen and a folded notebook.

When I pulled my pants back up, the center seam brushed my lips, and I had to brace myself against the door for a second so I wouldn’t moan. The rough fabric wasn’t made for that; that was exactly why it became unbearably arousing. Every tiny movement reminded me that I was naked beneath my uniform, open, wet, obeying an order in the middle of my workday.

I left the bathroom with my legs slightly tense. Everything in the hallway was still the same: carts, beeps, quiet voices, the smell of disinfectant. No one had any idea that I was going without panties, my pussy throbbing beneath the white fabric. No one knew that in my pocket I carried proof of my submission as if it were clinical material.

“Are you all right?” a colleague asked when she saw me arrive.

“Yes, of course,” I lied.

My voice came out steady. My body didn’t.

The rest of my shift became a delicious torture. Every step was friction. Every time I bent down or crossed a leg, the seam dug right into the most sensitive place. I could feel myself growing wetter, the fabric sticking to me, my clitoris flaring with the slightest bit of friction.

While I took someone’s blood pressure or adjusted an IV, my mind was somewhere else. I thought of him reading my messages, imagining me like this, working among sick people with my cunt bare beneath my pants and my crumpled panties in my pocket. I thought about the look on his face if he saw me bending over a bed, if he knew that inside I wasn’t being gentle or compassionate, but an eager bitch waiting for another order.

Hours later, when my shift finally ended, I left the hospital with tired legs and my pussy burning. The heat of the street hit me head-on. I looked from side to side, searching for him, but saw nothing except cars, motorcycles, people, and noise. My phone vibrated before I could take a deep breath.

“Walk to the bus stop. Sit down and wait.”

I did. The shelter was crowded, so I settled at one end of the metal bench, immediately feeling the fabric of my pants sink between my lips as I sat. I squeezed my thighs together. I swallowed. I didn’t want anyone to notice the change in my breathing.

Then another message arrived. “Put your hand in your pocket.”

I obeyed, moving slowly. I touched the fabric of my panties, balled up. Warm. Intimate. Mine, and no longer mine.

“Take them out.”

I felt a hollow drop in my stomach. An elderly woman with shopping bags sat on one side; two men staring at their phones sat on the other. No one was paying attention to me, yet I felt as if the whole world were pressing down on me. I took the panties out inside my closed fist and left them on my lap, barely hidden by my hand.

“Now throw them away.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t even dare type. I sat still, staring at the trash can a few steps away, and another vibration made me react.

“Do it or I disappear.”

That was enough. I stood with my heart pounding, walked to the trash can, and opened my hand. I watched the white fabric fall between an empty coffee cup and some crumpled papers. It was a small, absurd gesture, but it shot through me with a surge of shame and relief. I had just shed my last defense in the middle of the street because of an order sent by email, and the worst part was that it aroused me so much I could barely stay on my feet.

A short honk sounded in front of me.

I turned my head and saw a dark car stopped beside the curb. The passenger window lowered just enough to show me his face. He was wearing a dark shirt, his expression calm, and he had that look that never needed a raised voice to completely dismantle me.

“Get in.”

I didn’t think. I opened the door and climbed into the car with an urgency that embarrassed me for barely a second. The interior was cool and smelled of leather and his cologne. He locked the doors, and I felt the noise of the street vanish as if we had gone underwater.

He didn’t start driving immediately. He looked me over slowly, from head to toe, pausing at the white jacket and then at my tense legs.

“You threw them away?”

“Yes.”

“In plain sight?”

“Yes.”

He nodded with restrained satisfaction that tightened my belly.

“Good girl.”

He pulled away. I stayed motionless for a few yards, until he spoke without taking his eyes off the traffic.

“Unzip your pants.”

It was difficult to work the zipper with fingers that clumsy. When I finally lowered it a few inches, the cool air inside the car brushed against the accumulated moisture, and a brief moan escaped me.

“More.”

I lowered it until my pants were loose enough for him to put his hand inside. He reached over and rested his palm on my thigh. It wasn’t even a caress at first; it was possession. His heavy, firm hand moved slowly toward my groin. I spread my legs wider almost without realizing it.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it properly.”

“Yes, Master.”

His thumb pressed just above the crease of my pussy through the damp fabric, and I had to bite my lip to keep from begging him already.

“How dirty. Out there, you were the proper nurse. In here, you’re dripping like a whore because I made you spend your shift without panties.”

He slipped his hand inside my pants, and the direct contact of his cool fingers against my vulva nearly made me arch my back. He found me soaked. He slid two fingers between my lips, parting them, coating himself with my wetness without the slightest gentleness.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “I haven’t fucked you yet, and you’ve already filled my hand.”

I was breathing worse and worse. He began rubbing my clitoris with his thumb, slow and firm, without losing his rhythm with the car. Every circle sent a current up through my abdomen. My hips moved on their own against his hand.

“Stay still.”

The order made me tense even more. I obeyed as best I could while he kept touching me exactly where he knew how to undo me. Then he drove two fingers deep inside my pussy all at once. They went in without resistance. I let out a muffled gasp and spread my legs wider.

“You should always walk around this open,” he said. “Wet, available, and obedient.”

He began sliding his fingers in and out at a precise rhythm, striking the spot inside that he knew drove me crazy. With his other hand, he kept hold of the wheel, utterly calm, as if he weren’t bringing me to the edge of orgasm in the middle of city traffic. I, meanwhile, was already a wreck: knees spread, uniform wrinkled, breathing broken.

“Master... please...”

“Please what?”

“Let me come.”

He chuckled under his breath. It wasn’t a kind laugh, but the one he used when he knew he already had me exactly where he wanted me.

“You don’t decide.”

He quickened the movement of his fingers slightly and squeezed my clitoris harder at the same time. My entire body contracted. I felt the orgasm coming all at once, rising through my thighs, tightening my belly. Just as I was about to break, he pulled his hand away.

A nearly furious whimper escaped me. I was left vibrating, empty, and on the verge of tears from frustration.

He wiped his hand on the inside of my thigh and then on the fabric of my uniform, as if my own body were a rag.

“You don’t come in my car,” he said. “You come when I allow it.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I remained there, breathing in ragged gasps, my pussy throbbing around an unbearable emptiness.

***

When we arrived, he made me get out without touching me again. We went upstairs in silence. The journey to his apartment seemed endless because every step reactivated the friction of the fabric between my legs, and the denied orgasm had left my body hypersensitive. Once we entered, the door closed behind us and the air changed immediately. Outside, I could pretend. In there, I couldn’t.

“On your knees.”

I fell onto a thick rug before I could think about my dignity. He set his keys on a table and calmly took off his jacket, watching me as if he were assessing a freshly submitted assignment. I was still wearing my half-open uniform, my chest rising and falling quickly, my legs slightly apart out of sheer necessity.

“You obeyed well,” he said. “But you look desperate.”

“I am.”

“I know.”

He stood before me and caught my chin, making me raise my head. His gaze held mine for several seconds. It wasn’t tenderness. It was control.

“Tell me what you are.”

I was ashamed of how quickly I answered.

“Yours.”

“Not enough.”

I swallowed.

“I’m your submissive.”

He slowly shook his head.

“Still too elegant. I want the truth.”

Heat rose into my face. Even so, I said it.

“I’m your whore.”

His expression changed only slightly, but it was enough to make me even wetter.

“I like it when you stop pretending.”

He yanked the front of my jacket, and the buttons gave way, scattering onto the floor. The sharp sound of plastic rolling across the wood startled me. Beneath it, I wore a simple sports bra. He tore that upward too, without patience, leaving my tits bare. The contrast of the cool air against my hardened nipples made me gasp.

“Look at you,” he said. “An hour ago you were taking vital signs. Now you’re kneeling with your tits out and your pussy dripping onto my rug.”

He ran his fingertips over one nipple and then pinched it hard. I moaned and instinctively leaned forward. He did the same to the other, squeezing just a little harder until he drew a dirtier whimper from me.

“Hands behind your back.”

I put them behind me immediately. He lowered his gaze to my obedience and stroked my cheek as a reward. That gentle gesture, after the yank and the pinch, unsettled me more than any blow could have.

“Now suck me.”

He opened his pants and pulled out his cock, hard, thick, and already taut. He held it at face level. I opened my mouth before he guided me. The first contact of the head against my tongue made me close my eyes for a second. It tasted of skin, cleanliness, him. I ran my tongue over the shining tip and heard his breathing grow slightly heavier.

“No delicacy.”

I took him deeper. He pushed my hair back with one hand and held the back of my neck with the other, setting the pace. I sucked long and deep, letting him brush the back of my throat. Saliva ran from the corner of my mouth and down my chin, but I didn’t care. I wanted to please him. I wanted him to know that the whole day of waiting had left me hungry.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Look at you, swallowing cock with your uniform torn. Much more honest now.”

He pulled out just far enough to tap my lips gently with the tip.

“Stick out your tongue.”

I did. He spat onto it without taking his eyes off my face. The humiliation pierced me in an obscene way. I swallowed with my tongue still out, and he barely smiled.

“Again.”

I put him back in my mouth. This time he was rougher. He pushed my head with a hand at the back of my neck, thrusting in and out with short strokes that made my eyes water. The wet sound of my mouth filled the room. I felt saliva running down my neck and chest, mixing with my gasps. I let him use me, gripping his thighs, opening my throat wider each time he drove all the way in.

When he had me slobbering and desperate enough, he pulled me away. I was left panting, lips wet and face burning.

“Lie on your back.”

I lay down on the rug, and he pulled my uniform pants down to my knees. When I was exposed before him, I felt a brutal mixture of shame and relief. My pussy was swollen, glistening with wetness, my lips parted by my ragged breathing. He looked at me as if contemplating a finished work of art.

“All this because of a couple of emails and an order on the street.”

He slid two fingers between my lips, gathered my juices, and then put them in my mouth. I sucked them clean without taking my eyes off him.

“That’s it. Swallow how much of a whore you are.”

He knelt between my legs and brought his mouth closer without hurrying. The first lick made me jerk. I was hypersensitive from the car, so when he opened my pussy with his fingers and ran his tongue from bottom to top, straight to my clitoris, I nearly dug my heels into the rug.

“Stay still,” he repeated.

I tried to obey while he ate my pussy with cruel dedication. He wasn’t doing it gently to comfort me; he was doing it to dismantle me. His tongue traced hard circles over my clitoris and then sank into my entrance before returning upward, faster and faster. I moaned, said his title, said please, said anything that might bring me closer to relief.

He opened me wider with two fingers and began fucking me with his mouth while putting one finger inside me. Then two. The sound of my wetness became indecent, sticky, impossible to hide. I could feel his beard lightly scraping the insides of my thighs, and that slight irritation aroused me even more.

“Master... I’m coming...”

Far from stopping, he increased the pace. He sucked my clitoris and pumped his fingers inside me. The orgasm hit me whole. My abdomen clenched, my legs trembled, and I came against his mouth with a moan I couldn’t hold back. He kept licking me through the contractions, prolonging it until it became almost painful.

When he moved away, I was a puddle, breathing with my mouth open. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand and gave my thigh a light slap.

“That was only to stop you begging like an idiot. Now we’re going to fuck.”

He stood and finished removing my pants completely. Then he turned me over effortlessly, leaving me on all fours on the rug, my uniform hanging from my arms and my tits swaying as I breathed. I felt an animal shame at the position and, at the same time, such direct arousal that my clitoris hurt again.

He spread my buttocks with one hand and spat on my pussy. The warm spit slid over my already-soaked lips. He spread it with two fingers, slipping them in just enough to open me wider.

“This is how I wanted you. Wet and ready.”

The tip of his cock brushed my entrance. I whimpered before he was even inside me.

“Don’t move.”

He entered with one single thrust. The air rushed from my lungs. I felt him thick and deep, brutal after so many hours of tension. I let out a hoarse moan, almost a scream, and braced my forearms on the rug so I wouldn’t collapse.

He stayed buried to the hilt for a second, savoring how tight I was. Then he began to move. His first thrusts were slow but deep, drawing increasingly filthy moans from me. My pussy clenched around him by pure reflex, still sensitive from my orgasm, and he punished me for it by gripping my hip harder.

“Look how you squeeze me. You were crazy for this cock.”

“Yes...”

He gave me a sharp slap on the ass.

“Be clearer.”

“Yes, Master. I was crazy for your cock.”

“That’s better.”

He increased the pace. His thrusts grew harder and faster, and the sound of skin against skin began mixing with my gasps and the rhythmic thud of the rug beneath my knees. Every time he withdrew almost completely and then drove back in to the hilt, he pulled a spasm from my belly. I couldn’t think anymore. I could only feel.

He grabbed my hair, pulling my head back so that I arched my spine. That position let him go even deeper. I screamed without restraint.

“That’s what I like. I want to hear you.”

His free hand moved between my legs and found my clitoris. He rubbed it with obscene precision while continuing to fuck me from behind. The double stimulation left me trembling instantly. I pushed my ass back against him helplessly, searching for more like a starving woman.

“Look at you,” he growled near my ear. “I give you an order and you throw your panties away in the street. I put my hand inside you in the car and you drip. I open you up here and you take me as if you’d been waiting for this cock your whole life. You’re an obedient whore.”

“Yes... yes... I am...”

He slapped me again, harder this time. The sting spread across my buttock and mingled with the pleasure in a way that made me moan louder.

“Say it properly.”

“I’m your obedient whore.”

“Again.”

“I’m your obedient whore.”

He accompanied my words with thrusts that grew faster and faster, knocking the air from me. I felt the orgasm rising again, heavier and deeper than the one from his mouth. He must have noticed, because he squeezed my clitoris mercilessly.

“Don’t come until I tell you.”

I tried to hold back, but I was too close. My legs trembled, my pussy throbbed around him, and every impact pushed me toward the edge. I let out a frustrated sob.

“Please...”

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Now you may. Come.”

The order broke me apart. I came with a violence that left me blind for a second. My entire body contracted, my pussy squeezed him in rapid, uncontrolled pulses, and he kept fucking me through the orgasm until it became almost unbearable. I screamed his title, clung to the rug, and felt even my fingers trembling.

He didn’t slow down. A few more deep, disordered thrusts, and I felt him tense behind me. He dug his fingers into my hip and emptied himself inside me with a low growl, pushing all the way in as his hot release filled me. That thick warmth inside me drew another smaller, exhausted, satisfied moan.

He stayed still for a few seconds, breathing hard, still inside me. Then he withdrew slowly. I felt a warm trickle slide between my thighs. He looked at it, ran two fingers through the mixture of semen and wetness, and held them up in front of my face.

“This is what you wanted from the moment your shift began.”

I couldn’t deny it. I barely nodded, still trembling.

He released my hair and let me fall face down. Fatigue hit me all at once. I heard his footsteps move away for a second and then return. He lifted me slightly and brought a glass of water to my lips. I drank. That practical, almost everyday gesture after he had used me like that unsettled me more than everything that had come before.

“Tomorrow you’ll go back to your routine,” he said. “You’ll smile, work, and look untouched.”

He stroked the back of my neck, right where he had grabbed me earlier.

“But you’ll remember every step you took without panties, every order you obeyed, and how you ended up open for me on this rug. And that will carry you until I call you again.”

I closed my eyes. I could still feel the semen inside me, the sting of the slaps, the raw sensitivity of my clitoris, and the sweet weight of having given in completely. Outside, my life would remain complicated, noisy, and demanding. In there, everything had been reduced to something brutally simple.

I obeyed. He decided. And in that dirty, direct, total clarity, I could finally breathe.