They fell in behind her, stepped across the stage, halted before the curtain where Miss Blackstone announced, ‘You have all seen how effective are our methods of security and restraint and there will be no exceptions. Nevertheless, this new patient was so eager to meet people and try things out that in the end I agreed to allow her participation. On our terms, naturally.’ Turning about, she grasped the curtain, swept it aside and declared with a triumphant smile, ‘May I introduce our lovely Natasha!’

A gasp of astonishment rose from the onlookers. One of the men cried, ‘Oh God, yes!’

At either side of the elaborately sinister chair waited the nurses. At the rear stood Derby. Still attired as a clown, he gaped through swaying strings that held captive a cluster of brightly shimmering metallic party balloons. Gripped in an embrace of chrome and black leather, Natasha wore a heavy straitjacket of gleaming black latex decorated with a floppy pink bow-tie. Lewdly spread, her stockinged legs and high-heel sandals pointed upwards and out. Their awed gaze fell upon the taped mouth, the look of horrified disbelief in her eyes, the straps that held her so securely on display, wide open to all present. None could fail to notice the chrome stand, well-filled pink rubber bottle, the clear plastic tube that coiled down from it to terminate in a long, pink nozzle.

A momentary distraction occurred when the nurses handed each of the guests a slip of paper and a pencil. Miss Blackstone said, ‘We’re to have a little game, shortly so please, everyone write your name on your paper now. There’s a case of champagne set aside for the winner and three bottles of rather good claret for the runner-up, if dear Bridget hasn’t discovered where I hid it. But first, a demonstration of our beautiful new chair.’

As she spoke, Nurse Calver stepped forward to slide a curved, clear acrylic bowl out from beneath the chair. The rim of the bowl was lined with soft rubber, at either side was clipped a detachable valve and flexible steel pipe that the onlookers guessed must be for hot and cold water. From the base of the bowl fell two other valved tubes as well as a wide diameter, flexible pipe that, like the others, disappeared into the floor. Miss Blackstone noted their interest in these features, pointing out that, ‘Everything is plumbed in so the patient can undergo a thorough clean-out with an internal examination without leaving the chair. As you see, she has already been depilated in line with all our residents. Darling Natasha said how much she enjoys this kind of experience so I thought she’d appreciate being the very first to try out our new apparatus.’

Natasha’s eyes widened further, an iceberg tip of frantic moans emerged from behind the tape. The voice within her head screamed, ‘No, you lying bitch! Let me out!’

Even worse did her predicament seem when she spotted the Hollingworths at the rear of the gathering, moderately dishevelled but fully dressed. Further back still, stood Bridget, who as Natasha gazed out, was joined by a newly groomed, smartly suited Bradwell.

Nurse Ashbourne moved to Natasha’s side and ordered, sternly, ‘Come along now - pee!’

Natasha’s eyes registered stark despair as the order was repeated. Nothing happened.

‘Sometimes they need encouragement,’ smiled Miss Blackstone, nodding to the nurses.

Each drew a tawse from her pocket and promptly began to lay about Natasha’s thighs with a series of rapid, harsh cracks.

Still, nothing happened.

They resumed with harder strokes until her flesh was prominently reddened, her stifled protests almost continuous.

As before, nothing happened.

Miss Blackstone nodded to Derby who, followed by everyone’s gaze, stepped across the room to the fireplace. A shower of sparks flew up the chimney as he retrieved an object from the fire and made his way back. One end of the iron poker glowed red as he stood before Natasha with a grotesque grin creasing the white-painted face and wide, red mouth. The guests glanced at one another uncomfortably, backing away as an acrid smell touched their nostrils. Derby lowered the poker above Natasha’s thighs.

‘Oh, darling, don’t spoil those stockings,’ said Miss Blackstone. ‘And be careful of that bowl,’ she added as Derby moved the poker lower.

Feeling the heat on her stomach, Natasha let out a sharp, ‘Mmmm!’

‘Pee!’ snapped Nurse Ashbourne.

‘Come along my sweet,’ smiled Miss Blackstone, teasing the hair from Natasha’s cheek as the poker moved to within a few centimetres of her flesh, then a little closer. From the look in Derby’s eyes, Natasha believed he would touch her flesh with it. The heat was more than she could bear. Natasha began to urinate.

There was weak applause from the guests as Derby, still grinning, withdrew the poker and returned it to the fireplace. The nurses watched Natasha empty her bladder into the Perspex receptacle where, with the aid of running water from the taps, it quickly drained away.

‘She will play these silly games,’ mused Miss Blackstone as Nurse Ashbourne placed a hand either side of the hanging bottle whilst Nurse Calver took up the spiral tube connected to it. To the plastic spout at the end of this she applied pink gel, then positioned the object against Natasha’s anus. Miss Blackstone nodded. The nozzle pushed easily up into Natasha’s rectum, causing her to stiffen, triggering sensations that under different circumstances would have been more than just agreeable. She gazed in consternation as Nurse Calver opened the small valve, jerked within her restraints as Nurse Ashbourne squeezed the rubber bottle. The clear plastic tube twitched as fine bubbles sped though. The soapy water made her innards tremble. An ominous turbulence gripped Natasha as the spout was withdrawn to be rinsed inside the bowl.

A look of satisfaction on her face, Miss Blackstone said, ‘Now we’ll see how clever our new toy really is.’ With that she pulled a small lever and tilted the chair forward until Natasha was more upright with the curved rim of the bowl cupped snugly against her groin. The onlookers pushed closer as valves beneath the bowl were opened by Nurse Calver. Water could be heard gushing above the sound of the music, though the latter was becoming louder.

Natasha knew it was hopeless to resist the insistent churning of her innards but tried anyway. Panic-laden seconds passed as the pressure built unbearably, built until she felt about to explode. Natasha tensed hard, closing her eyes against a sea of leering faces. A drum-roll began, trumpets blared, the music reaching a climax the inevitable happened. The relief she experienced was as intense as the shame that beset her; a shame made all the worse when the guests applauded with grinning enthusiasm.

The chair tilted back to its original position. The bowl gushed warm water and rubber-gloved hands began to soap between Natasha’s legs. She knew it was Nurse Calver even though her eyes remained closed. Fingers slipped into her anus, into her pussy, and Natasha wondered for a moment if it was their intention to masturbate her. But as they began to rinse and dry her, Miss Blackstone’s voice cut into her thoughts. ‘There – completely self-contained! And now she’s ready for her orgasm. Last laugh to the clown!’