Nurse Rose Part 01
I knocked on the door. It was an infill townhouse, ramp down driveway on right, front door steps on the left. After a brief but extensive examination, the Doctor had asked her receptionist to make this booking. I had been handed a post-it note with a date, time and address a few days later. It was rather Dead-Like-Me like. Would I be collecting a soul, or donating one? She wore a black silk half-robe with a rose pattern, with green shorts below when she opened the door. I suspected she had grabbed something quick. I identified myself, with a query of “And you are Nurse Rose?”. She nodded, and told me to remove my shoes and to follow her. This townhouse had a few steps from the front door up to the main floor, and to the left, a staircase descended into a finished basement. We went down. She stopped in the bottom landing, where there were a few doors. One went into a laundry room with a nice walk-in shower room. The shower was installed, she explained, because a previous owner was in construction, and didn’t like construction dirt everywhere. She asked if the small bag I carried had toys, and I nodded. (The receptionist had told me what kinds of things to bring) She took the bag, and told me to get undressed (pointed to some hooks), and get in the shower. “I’ll come get you when I’m ready”, she explained. There was another door in the laundry room, and with that, she disappeared through the main door into the finished section. I examined the shower controls, turned it on ¾ hot, and removed my jeans, T-shirt, socks, underwear and got into the spray. The temperature was pretty good. The shower was big enough for three, I thought mischievously. I grabbed some soap, and removed whatever trace I could of the 24C weather that I was slightly overdressed for.
Five or so minutes later, the water turned off. 
My eyes were closed in the spray, and as I opened them, I saw a blindfold facemask hanging on the shower tap. “Put that on please”, she purred. I complied. A hand took mine, led me out of the shower, and through the other door. “Now, Michael. Your doctor has sent you here to me for training. The Doctor has given me a strict prescription of treatment. “, she explained as she led me across the room.
We stopped part way across the room, she turned to face me. The gentlest of kisses pressed against my lips. A towel blotted my front dry.
She took my hands, and she placed each one on a breast. She wore a mesh bra; it wrapped each breast perfectly. Distracted as I was, I was almost unaware as a leather wrist cuff went around each forearm.
“Open your hand”, she commanded, and my right palm faced up. She placed a piece of leather in my hand, “Do you know what this is?”, she inquired. “It’s my leather cock ring”, I answered. 
“Please put it on”. I did as she commanded, I had done that in the dark before, so blind-folded was no additional challenge.
She then led me another foot or two along, asking: “There, please get on this treatment table”, placing my hand on a massage table. “Face down, for now”, she explained.
I was aware of her very close protective presence as I climbed up. I suspected that the green shorts were also gone. My foot brushed against what I thought were mesh-fabric boxers… matching bra, I supposed. Had I seen something like that before?
Quite rapidly, she attached the two leather leg restraints around my ankles that I had brought.
A towel dried my back, followed by her hands brushing my thighs, ass, and back as she soothed me into place. Like she was brushing a wrinkle out of a sheet. While there was a fitted sheet over the table, I found that the table had a face hole and also a glory hole. The sheet covered both, but I found that the holes nicely accommodate my face and allowed my cock and balls space, while still being supported. The sheet was some kind of soft satin material.
She bopped around the table, hooking each arm to a hook on the table beside my head. Why did I think “bopped”... oh. Because there was in fact some music. Some kind of Enigma-like thing… would there be monks chanting? I like that part.
She began to massage me; long slow firm strokes that started at each limb and neck, and progressed towards my ass/hips, but never quite getting there. The pressure was a perfect balance between the deep tissue massage I needed, and the tantalizingly soft teases that I wanted.
“Now, Michael. I am trained as a sexual therapy nurse. I treat various kinds of social, physical and mental trauma through pleasure and orgasm. I specialize in tease and denial, leading to multiple. forced. orgasms.”, she lectured, adopting a mock Shatner-like dictation.
“It will take many sessions for us to make progress; and your Doctor has asked me to make regular reports. She wants to know how you respond to the many tricks I know. The Doctor may make surprise visits here, and there will also be a few visits to her office for required inspections using some uhm”,
As she explained this, she had sprayed me with some fragrant oil, and had begun to massage my buttocks and ass, and her finger pressed firmly against my anus as she continued, “specialized equipment”
I gave an audible smirked as I clearly understood her meaning, and she seemed to enjoy that.
Nurse Rose’s finger left my rose, and her hands wandered around my body. More soft touches, followed by much firmer strokes. She shuffled towards my head, relaxing me into a deeper state of bliss with each step.
When she reached my head, her double stroke passed from my shoulders down to my quads.
To do this, she had to climb up over my head. I felt one knee next to my head, and then the other as she stretched to reach down my legs. And then back up, she sat down on the back of my head. “Well, I don’t really want oil on this top”, she said, pausing to remove it.
Another stroke down my back, and this time, whispering “Downward dog”, she proceeded to do downward-dog. Downward big-beautiful oil covered double dog. Uhm. Breast.
I really was enjoying this treatment. I moaned each time I felt an oily nipple rub across my ass, and I wondered how the Nurse was feeling about that. The nipples got more and more firm, so I figured I was amusing her. I’ve cycled, skied and ran my entire life, and I think the compliments I’ve gotten about my legs and ass were genuine, and I hoped she was enjoying me.
She suddenly bit my glut. Not hard, but it was a surprise. Like when you pet a cat, and after purring a bunch, they decide to bless your hand with their teeth. A moment later she had slid down to the other side of me. My right-hand side. The long strokes she had started with continued, but this time they seemed even more sensual.
My cock had started to get hard awhile ago, pressing urgently against the satin material that covered the glory hole. As she stroked my legs and ass, I wished urgently that she would stroke the inside of my thighs. My thighs parted slightly as her hand passed up to my ass, tracing a slightly more intimate path. “Such a pleasure slut!”, she purred. Then spanked my ass lightly, then running a fingernail up my hips and ribs. I shuddered from the touch.
“I know what would help”, she intimated.
From below the middle of the table, she brought a cargo strap up to my upper thigh. She wound this 2” wide strap under my right thigh, and then back towards that edge. 
Going around to the other side, the strap went under the left thigh, and then back down again to meet the first end of the strap. (A bad illustration to the side). The strap, when tightened, would gently pull my thighs apart, while also holding my legs down. This was very enjoyable for me, and I found myself with short excited breaths of anticipation. She shushed me, returning to a few long strokes until she felt my heart slow down. Somehow, despite being face down and blindfolded, I could sense her smile. I wondered how that worked.
“Now, I saw how much you liked it when I slid all over you.”, I gave an enthusiastic uh-huh in response. “I have some body cream that I’m going to use now. It's not oily. In fact, it’s edible, and it even tastes nice.”
She opened two wide jars, putting one on each side of me, next to my hips. I could smell the cream, and it smelled of mint, or maybe even menthol. Sitting on the backs of my knees, she could pull handfuls of cream from each jar. She applied large dollops of the cream to my upper back, and the cheeks of my buttocks. The pattern mystified me. Then there was a pause; I would later realize that she had put cream on her thighs and stomach.
Adjusting her weight, moving her knees so that she straddled my left thigh. I sensed a hand on each side of my ribs, and with a whispered “3-2-1”, Nurse Rose lay down on top of me. Her lovely round breasts pressed against my back, squishing the cream onto and between her breasts.
Her cream covered stomach descended onto my lower back, mashing the cream on her onto my back, leading to her pressing her mons into the cream she had placed on my buttocks. It wedged into my ass, forcing the sensual cream to flow along her leg, merging with the cream that was there.
The resulting sploosh of cream was forced along my taint, and down onto my balls.
I felt her body push/slide up mine. Hands on each side of me, elbows bent, she reached under my shoulders for purchase on my shoulders, and then on restrained arms. She squeezed against me.
Finally pausing, taking a breath or two. Letting me catch one myself. Her head was now resting on the back of neck, turned to the right. I moaned in tune to the moan that she made near my ear. “I think you like this as much as I do”, she murmured. Yes. I mean. What could I say?
She let go of me, repositioned her hands. Her breasts popped out of the cream sticking us together as she pushed up. I felt the tender weight of her hips pressing down into the small of my back as she climbed over my buttock to sit on me. She swayed her weight a bit, grinding my shaft into the material below me.
Then, like a backyard glider, she rocked her body back again, settling again on the back of my thigh, just above my knee. Her knee left the spot between my thighs, and I desperately wanted to lift my ass up to go with her knee. The strap holding my thighs down did not let me. Noticing my urgency, she giggled: “And that’s why you are restrained!” She reached over to the ratchet on the strap, pulled on the free end, tightening it slightly. I sighed as my hips stretched pleasantly.
Leading with her hands on my thighs, she stroked me. Using her hands like a squidgy, she slid forward, downwards-dog style, cream covered breasts pressing across my ass. Up my back, and again waffle-ironing me. Again with her breath on my neck. Me, realizing I had held my breath the whole time, letting it out, and managing to take a breath as her right hand wandered down my ribs, found my hip, and then the side of my thigh. She spread the cream the entire way, grinding her mons into my left buttock.
I had half a thought about how the cream might feel as it spread against her clitoris. Another bit of thought as many substances don’t belong there. Both thoughts vanished to oblivion as she shoveled some cream around my right thigh, towards my aching shaft. I tried to lift, but I just strained. She ground herself harder against my buttock, sliding up and down me. “Only I move!”, she told me. “You are my toy”, she soothed. “I love training my toys. They cum only when I allow”, she explained. The cream reached my shaft, and her hand gripped me tightly.
With that new avenue of purchase, she grinded herself against me even more. Her left arm reached up, grabbing my bicep, and she slid up and down me. I had a sort of giggle, realizing that usually, the girl moves her hand up and down the guys’ cock. In this case, she used my cock as a stable point, moving the rest of her up and down me. My body was the cock. I didn’t cum. She hadn’t allowed it. She moaned, and I loved hearing it. Every part of my body tingled from the texture of the cream. I was very hard, but also very happy.
Some moment later, she unstuck herself from me. There was a slurping sound that made us both giggle. She knew the restraints well, and 20s later, I was detached from the table. I was somewhat wise in the ways of systolic pressure, and I got up just slowly enough to not fall over. I was still blindfolded, so putting her arm around my waist, she led me back to the shower.
Part 1 of 6.