Nurse Bolton

Continuing the series, District Nurse Bolton gets a taste of her own Medicine

By Tara Patterson

Maggie Bolton was forty years old. She was a district nurse attached to a small Yorkshire cottage hospital. She had returned to work once her two children had become settled in grammar school. Her Husband, Neil, was not only a doctor but also one of the practice partners of the Hospital. This was the swinging sixties, not that there was much swinging in the Bolton household. Life was quite traditional, and both Maggie and her husband had been brought up in strict households with strong values; values that they were now passing down to their children. Maggie looked through the serving hatch of her kitchen at her two children, both still in their grey school uniforms. Charlotte, who was thirteen, and Peter, fifteen, were both concentrating hard at their homework. As they worked, Peter seemed to be fidgeting in his seat and looked a little uncomfortable.

‘Perhaps he will tell me later,’ thought Maggie as she slipped her pink wrap-around apron over her dark blue uniform and tied a scarf over her brown hair as she started to prepare the evening meal.

After the meal, Dr Neil Bolton retired to his study as he often did for a while to enjoy his pipe, while Maggie and Charlotte started to clear the table. Peter stood up very gingerly and winced in pain as he reached across to pick up the teapot from the centre of the table. Maggie noticed and frowned.

“Well, Peter Bolton, are you going to tell me why you got caned this time? You are making a pretty bad job of hiding it. Did you think I wouldn’t notice the fact you have been wriggling and fidgeting since you came home?”

Peter scowled.

“It wasn’t just me. Mr Adams caned a load of us, said he’d seen us throwing snowballs at a bus.”

“And had you?” said Maggie looking her son in the eye. “Don’t lie to me, you are in enough trouble already.”

“Yes Mum,” Peter replied quietly. “Mine didn’t hit it and there was a whole gang doing it and some kids from other schools too.”

Maggie raised her voice,

“Do you not realise how dangerous that is? I do not believe for one moment that your snowballs didn’t hit the bus, not for someone who is as keen on cricket as what you are, and you think being deceitful about it is going to make things better? In fact, you have made the situation a whole lot worse, haven’t you my lad?”

“Erm, err, but Mum.”

“No buts, Peter. You know the rules of this house. Get the cane at school and you get the same number of the slipper at home and sent to bed early. Lie and try and hide the fact you have been caned at school, then its double the number with the slipper.”

“B-but that’s twelve with the slipper, Mum, that’s not fair.”

“And I’ll double it again, young man, if you keep answering me back,” shouted Maggie. “Now go to your father’s study this instant.”

As Maggie and Charlotte washed up, they could both hear Peter’s cries of pain from behind his father’s study door.

“It’s for his own good,” Maggie said to her daughter. “Your grandfather did just the same to me when I was your age. I soon learnt not to hide things from my parents. It’s always best to be upfront about these things.”

*          *          *

Maggie soon forgot about that evening and life continued as normal. A week or two later, Maggie returned to the hospital late after making her district calls. Normally on a Wednesday, her late night, she would go straight home from her last call, but today she had a student nurse with her. Maggie felt cold. As practical as it was for visiting the patients in the outlying farms and villages, her Land Rover certainly wasn’t warm. As the student Nurse bid her goodnight, Maggie glanced across at the Victorian villa next to the hospital that was the nurses’ home. Maggie had lived there before she was married. She smiled briefly at the memory of the laughs she had in the warm kitchen of the home. The kitchen light was on. Maggie noticed two nurses sitting laughing and joking around the table, so she switched off the engine of the Land Rover and trudged through the snow to join them.

Sitting around the table still in uniform were two staff nurses. One, blonde haired Laura Morton, was a recent arrival, but the other, Tara Patterson, was an old friend of Maggie’s and probably the longest resident in the home, apart from Matron. Tara was a couple of years younger than Maggie; the two were great friends with Tara also being Charlotte Bolton’s Godmother.

Open in the centre of the large kitchen table was a tin containing a fruit cake. Both Nurses were also drinking from green cups.

“I suppose you can’t spare me a piece could you?” asked Maggie.

“And some cold tea too?” smiled Tara as she poured a generous measure of sherry into another tea cup. “Come on Maggs, sit down. You look frozen.”

The three began loudly chatting and laughing as they caught up with all the gossip of the hospital. The cake was soon finished and as it got late Laura got up.

“I’ll leave you two to it then. I’ve got a very early duty in the morning, so I ought to go on.”

“Lightweight,” giggled Maggie as the nurse left. “Do you remember when we used to go on duty with no sleep after a night out in Scarborough?”

That set the two friends off reminiscing and laughing once again. Another bottle of sherry was found and the time passed quickly.

“Shouldn’t you both be in bed?” snapped a loud stern voice as the kitchen door was flung open.

Both nurses jumped up in shock as the Matron burst through the door in her dressing gown, her white hair up in curlers. As they jumped up, Tara accidentally knocked over her cup spilling the contents over the table. The Matron paced around the room.

“I could hear the noise you were making from my room upstairs. I thought it would be some of the student girls who don’t know any better, but then I find you two, my most long serving nurses, creating this racket. Perhaps you would like to tell me why you are both up so late disturbing the sleep of the rest of us.”

The Matron put her finger into the pool of spilt sherry on the table and tasted the liquid on her finger.

“And drinking sherry too. This is a very serious breach of the rules.”

“Sorry Matron,” Tara mumbled. “Suppose it sort of got out of hand. I-I, well, Mum sent me a cake and err…”

“Sorry won’t cut it, I’m afraid, Staff Nurse,” snapped the angry Matron. “It’s late and I’m too tired to put up with or hear your pathetic excuses, so I suggest you get to bed and Nurse Bolton, you go home back to your Husband.”

The Matron picked up Maggie’s Land Rover keys from the table.

“You are certainly in no fit state to drive home so I suggest you walk; I will see you both in my office tomorrow at 2pm sharp.”

*          *          *

And so it was at two pm the following afternoon, District Nurse Maggie Bolton and Staff Nurse Tara Patterson stood in front of the Matrons desk. They had both taken much care with their uniforms. They wore identical dresses, both with freshly starched white aprons. The only difference was Maggie’s navy blue district nurse’s hat in place of Tara’s white starched cap. Matron began her rant; the passage of time had done little to calm her anger.

“Whatever were you both thinking, carrying on like that making all that noise and disturbing all of us trying to sleep, I would have expected better from the student nurses, but from you two absolutely inexcusable. The whole matter puts me in a very difficult situation. I’ve already had complaints from the sister on Milner Ward about her nurses reporting to work tired and complaining of a lack of sleep, but the fact I caught you both drunk in the nurse’s home, very serious indeed.”

Tara looked at her feet; she smoothed down her apron, not really sure what to say. Maggie just looked at the matron aghast as she continued.

“Surely I do not have to remind you of the history of this hospital. But, seeing as you both seem to have forgotten, I will remind you. This Hospital was founded for the benefit of the residents of this town by a religious order who only handed the hospital and the nurses home over to the NHS providing certain conditions were followed. One of which was the consumption of alcohol by staff being forbidden anywhere on the Hospital premises, a rule you two seem to have forgotten. Or did you, seeing as I caught you trying to hide it by drinking sherry out of tea cups? As someone who worked under the previous management, I feel it my duty to uphold those traditions.”

Tara gulped; despite being the younger, she was often the more confident of the two when faced with an angry Matron.

“You don’t have to remind us, we both started here pre-NHS, and I think we both remember life under the nuns.”

The Matron cut her short.

“Well in that case, you have prompted my solution and your punishment. Before you came in, I took the liberty of examining your contracts and conditions of employment. Now, in normal circumstances with any of the NHS nurses, disciplinary matters as serious as this must be referred to the personnel department at York for them to take action, but it seems that you are both on pre-NHS contracts so disciplinary matters fall under me or the Mother Superior of the Convent.”

Tara smirked. “Sister Mary Ward? I think not she died years ago.”

“We will have less of that backchat, thank you Nurse Patterson,” snapped the Matron.

“So what have you got in mind?” asked Maggie quietly. “A month on night duty or extra time in the sluice washing bedpans?”

The Matron frowned again.

“A very serious punishment, ladies. You both seem to forget that the contracts you both signed when you took up employment authorise me to use corporal punishment should the need arise.”

Tara laughed.

“What? Slipper us like Sister Mary Ward did when we were students?”

“I had something else in mind,” said the Matron as she took a traditional curved cane out from under her desk. “This did belong to Sister Mary Ward and she left me under no illusions about using it should I ever need to. I thought I would never have to, but I’m afraid your actions leave me little choice, unless you want to be suspended while your case is referred to the personnel department at York.”

Both nurses thought for a moment, Tara spoke first.

“So, if you cane us, will that mean that’s it, nothing goes to York on our records?”

“Yes, Nurse Patterson. It stays within this hospital and that is an end to the matter. I presume you are worried about your application for that Sister’s post at the County Hospital?”

“Well, I’ll accept the caning,” said Maggie. “I could really do without a disciplinary case going to York. Not with Neil being a practice partner here, that would be very awkward.”

“I guess I have no choice ether then, if I want that promotion,” sighed Tara. “I’ve been caned before, at boarding school, so I know what I’m letting myself in for.”

The Matron stood up and picked up the cane.

“So then, seeing as you have got previous experience, you can go first, and then show Nurse Bolton what to do. Six strokes each should be ample in this case. Now, bend over that chair please. Lift your dress.”

Maggie Bolton watched transfixed as her friend placed a chair in the centre of the Matron’s office. Tara lifted her dress and apron as she bent over the chair, exposing a pair of dark blue gym knickers. The Matron stood behind and tapped the cane on Tara’s bottom, to find her aim.

SWISH CRACK

“Owww,” cried Tara. “D-do I have to count them like I did at school?”

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary,” replied the Matron as she once again lightly tapped the cane on Tara’s tightly stretched knickers.

SWISH CRACK, SWISH CRACK, SWISH CRACK.

The matron delivered three quick strokes. Tara gasped and cried with each impact, her grip on the chair seat grew tighter and tighter.

SWISH CRACK, SWISH CRACK.

“Owww, arrr,” cried Tara. She was reminded of her school punishments long ago. Her voice croaked, “Thank you, Matron.”

The Matron seemed a little put out by this.

“Yes right, now you please, Nurse Bolton. You bend over the chair now. Nurse Patterson, you wait over there in the corner and do not rub your bottom.”

Tara stood up very gingerly and did as she was told. Again, she remembered her school days and the only thing that would prevent her from rubbing her bottom, so as she stood in the corner she placed her hands on her head.

Maggie moved across to the spot vacated by her friend. As she lifted her dress and slip, she instantly regretted her choice of underwear, for she was wearing a rather brief pair of silk black panties with lace edging. As she bent, Maggie could feel her suspenders tightening and the panties riding up, leaving her bottom almost bare. She gripped the seat of the chair tightly and bit her lip.

“Rather an unfortunate choice of knickers,” commented the Matron as she tapped the cane on Maggie’s behind. Maggie sensed the cane leaving her bottom and she tensed up ready for the inevitable.

SWISH CRACK, SWISH CRACK.

At first she felt nothing, then suddenly the sharp searing pain cut across her bottom. It took Maggie’s breath away and she cried out in shock. Any illusions she had about being strong disappeared, and Maggie started to sob loudly.

SWISH CRACK, SWISH CRACK.

The matron seemed to be caning Maggie two strokes at a time. Maggie gripped the chair tighter and tried to focus.

‘Just two more,’ she told herself.

SWISH CRACK, SWISH CRACK.

The final two strokes were delivered hard with no mercy. Maggie just kept her position and sobbed. After what felt like an age, two caring hands on her shoulder helped her to her feet. As the two nurses once again stood in front of the matron’s desk, Nurse Patterson kept a supportive arm around her friend.

*          *          *

Maggie was glad that she didn’t have any more calls to make that afternoon. The short walk back to her Land Rover and the drive home were agony. Her suspenders seemed to chafe her tender bottom with every move. Still, she could look forward to a nice soak in the bath once the children were in bed. Once she was home, Maggie tried her best to compose herself and carry out her evening routine without sitting down. She was glad to get up from sitting for her meal; that was about all she could take.

Once Peter and Charlotte had gone to bed, Maggie hung her apron on the back of the kitchen door, loosened her hair and announced: “I’ll go for a bath then. I could do with a good soak.”

Her Husband looked up from his paper.

“Yes, I guess you could after this afternoon. Isn’t there something you need to tell me first?”

“Tell you?” asked Maggie, trying to sound innocent.

“I mean your little trip to Matron’s office this afternoon after your soiree last night with Nurse Patterson. I might have been asleep when you came in late last night rather tipsy. I knew you had been drinking. That doesn’t worry me, but it’s more the fact about the rather hypercritical way you have been behaving this evening.

“Hypercritical? Whatever do you mean, Neil?” said Maggie.

Neil put down his paper and stood up.

“I know you both got caned this afternoon. Matron told me. As practice partner, she had to inform me of the disciplinary breach committed by two members of her nursing staff and the fact that she punished you in line with your employment contracts. That again actually doesn’t bother me, but it’s the fact that since you came home you have been wincing and creeping around trying to hide your discomfort just like the children do when they have been beaten at school. You are the first to jump on their discomfort and send them to me for a slippering.”

“That is ridiculous,” snapped Maggie. “I can hardly admit to being caned at work in front of Peter and Charlotte, can I? Whatever would they think of me?”

The doctor looked at his wife.

“Maggie, we have brought our children up to be honest, truthful and to be open with us, and I am sure that they would expect the same from us. But the way you have behaved this evening is the precise opposite of that. You should have had a quiet word with me about your caning when I got in and not hidden it from me until now. If it were one of the children doing so, then you would be demanding that they are punished. Perhaps it is time you had a dose of your own medicine.”

Neil got up and crossed over to the sideboard. He opened the top drawer and took out a well-worn white plimsoll.

“It’s only right. This slippering the children after a school beating was your idea. I’ve stuck to it, but I don’t like it. In fact, I actually don’t like what I’ve got to do now, but we simply can’t have the children think that there are double standards. And to be honest, Maggie, it sounds like you and Nurse Patterson were acting like a couple of silly schoolgirls last night. It is why Matron chose the course of action she did, so in a way I see no reason to treat you any different. Especially as you have been acting like a schoolgirl tonight, trying to hide the fact you have been caned.”

Maggie sighed. She was beginning to feel a little embarrassed by the whole affair.

“Yes, alright then, I suppose if that’s what it takes; six swats of that can’t be all that bad, not after Matron’s caning.”

“Twelve, actually,” said Neil, “double your punishment for not telling me earlier. It’s your rule.”

Maggie sighed. Neil sat down on the footstool and gestured that his wife should lie across his lap. As she did, he gently lifted her dress exposing her bottom. He paused for a moment to admire the sight in front of him. Maggie’s creamy white bottom, framed between the fabric of her suspender belt and the top of her black seamed stockings; her brief black panties barely covered the six angry red wheals on her slightly chubby bum cheeks. So that she wouldn’t struggle, Neil took a firm hold of Maggie’s right wrist with his left hand and held into the small of her back. He picked up the plimsoll and then brought it smartly down on its target. Maggie cried out and tried to move, but Neil held her firm. He brought the plimsoll down hard again in quick succession as Maggie squirmed and wiggled across his lap.

After the first six strokes he paused, briefly running his hand gently across his wife’s now very red bottom.

“Half way,” he said gently, picking up the plimsoll again. Maggie began to sob quietly. She felt embarrassed and subdued, but something else was stirring deep inside her.

Again the plimsoll crashed down, three times in quick succession, before another brief pause then the final three strokes.

As the final impact crashed down, Neil put down the slipper and gently caressed his wife’s bottom. She was still sobbing as he slid his fingers beneath the material of her black panties.

“I think it’s time for the next part of your punishment,” he whispered. “An early night.”

The End

© Tara Patterson 2018