Miss. Tachibana strode into the room with a scowl etched on her face and an air of superiority. She eyed the gentleman with a repulsed expression on her face, almost as though she was disgusted by his very presence. "Good afternoon, sir," she said, her greeting curt and impersonal. With an exaggerated huff, she snapped her latex gloves onwards, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"You really couldn't keep yourself clean, could you?" she muttered under her breath, the disgust in her voice barely concealed. As she prepared for the "semen extraction procedure," she made a show of the noise her gloves made, as if to emphasize just how beneath her this task was.

She moved with a sense of mechanical efficiency, almost as though the whole thing was routine for her. Though she may have appeared professional on the outside, there was no mistaking the disdain she held for the entire process. Every movement was laced with a sense of disgust and superiority as she facilitated the procedure, looking down upon the gentleman almost as though he were a lesser human being.

Hmph. If you're quite finished, I suggest we conclude this unpleasantness as soon as possible. There's no need to dawdle now that the procedure is over. Just try and keep your hands off yourself in the meantime...that goes double for any fantasies about me. She paused, eyes narrowing as she took a step closer to the man. This doesn't mean you can expect special treatment from me, understand? I'm only doing my job. So don't get any funny ideas.

She snorted derisively, turning away dismissively and beginning to stride from the room. However, she paused after just a few steps and looked back over her shoulder at him with an unreadable expression on her face. Enjoy your "recovery," I suppose. Just try not to get too excited about seeing me again...that could only make things worse for you.

As you get yourself clean and presentable, there's an almost cloying scent of sanitizer in the air - a testament to how thoroughly you believe you've rid yourself of your "disease." She returns to check on you a few minutes later, taking her time to survey your appearance before asking with feigned interest: "You did clean up quite nicely...why go through all that trouble?"

Her eyes narrow slightly as she fixes them on yours, daring you to give the wrong answer.

Her features contort into an expression of disgust and mockery as she laughs sarcastically, "Normal? You think you'll ever be normal again?" She shakes her head in amusement mixed with pity before continuing, "But I suppose it doesn't really matter what you think. Your existence will always be defined by this disease...and by me." Her words hang in the air like a heavy cloak, suffocating any hope of escape or redemption.

"Your disease," she says with a sneer, gesturing vaguely toward your crotch. "The filth that runs through those pathetic tubes. It's all the same to me." Her lips curl into an even more mocking smile as she takes a step closer, her presence nearly palpable in the air around you. "But don't worry," she whispers with an almost seductive tone, though it's laced with disgust. "I'll be back soon enough to take care of your little problem."

With an expression of feigned surprise, she says in a dry tone, "I don't suppose you managed to keep yourself clean for once?" As she approaches you, the stench emanating from your groin almost makes her gag. Her eyes narrow, and she feels a perverse pleasure at being the only one who can save you from this agony...for now. "Well, let's get this over with," she mutters, grabbing your shaft in her latex-gloved hand and beginning to stroke it mechanically, as if performing a task no better than cleaning the bathroom.

Her disgust is almost tangible, making every movement feel like a violation...which is exactly how she wants you to feel. As your body begins to respond to her touch, she takes quiet pleasure in watching you writhe in pain and submission beneath her careless ministrations.

She watches you with interest as you stand up and make your way to the shower, hobbling slightly on legs that ache for release. Despite her disgust toward you, there's something perversely thrilling about having this much control over someone in so much pain...something she can't quite shake off yet. With a sigh of resignation, she makes her way back to the bedside, preparing to tend to your needs once more when the time comes.

While you dry yourself off, she watches with an air of detached interest, her gaze traveling up and down your still-healing wounds before finally meeting yours in the mirror. "That's much better," she says sarcastically. "Now at least I won't be afraid to touch you without wanting to vomit." Her tone is almost mockingly sweet, as if she's trying to make light of her true feelings toward you.

Her lip curls into a smirk at your request to move the procedure to the couch, but she decides against arguing with you about it for now. Instead, she merely says, "Very well. If you're certain that's where you'd like me to perform my 'duties', then I suppose there's no harm in doing so." There's a note of mock sincerity in her tone as she gestures toward the couch with an air of feigned helpfulness.

As you move over to the couch, she follows close behind, watching with barely concealed amusement as you carefully position yourself on the soft surface. With a satisfied smile playing at the corners of her lips, she takes a step back and waits patiently for your signal before beginning once more.

Her brow furrows at your request, genuine confusion flashing briefly across her features before she forces a cold smile. "I'm sorry, but for both our sakes, those gloves are non-negotiable." There's an undercurrent of anger in her voice as she says this, like she's been caught off guard by your audacity. But even through the mask of annoyance, there's a hint of amusement at your audacity to challenge her authority in such a petty matter.

Her laughter is cold and bitter as she shakes her head in disbelief. "You truly are an idiot, aren't you? Do you honestly think I'm going to trust your judgment on such a matter?" She glares at you with open contempt, daring you to argue further. "Those gloves stay on, whether you like it or not. And as long as they do," she adds with relish, "I'll continue to have the control I need over this situation."

Her nostrils flare as she takes in the sight of your exposed cock, neatly trimmed and gleaming with anticipation. Even though you claim it's clean, something in her eyes tells you that she doesn't believe a word you say. But rather than argue further, she decides to indulge herself by leaning forward and running the pad of her index finger lightly over your head before wrapping her gloved hand around your shaft.

Her touch is firm but gentle as she begins to stroke, slowly at first but building in intensity until you're gasping for air and arching into her grasp. "See?" she says with a sneer, relishing the power this gives her over you. "Even when I don't believe you're clean enough...I still manage to make something of it."

With each thrust of her gloved hand, she drives home the point that no matter how hard you

Her eyes narrow to slits as she watches you, unsure whether or not your question is sincere. It almost seems like you're trying to manipulate her into taking a risk...a notion that doesn't sit well with her. She takes a deep breath, then slowly removes her glove and extends it towards you, palm up. "Prove it," she says curtly.

Her expression is one of intense disgust mixed with amusement at your audacity. She waits patiently for you to place your penis in her open palm, half expecting you to refuse or try something clever. But when you comply without hesitation, there's a momentary flash of surprise in her eyes before she regains her composure and carefully inspects your member with narrowed lids.

"Very well," she says at last, her tone cool but slightly less dismissive than before. "For the sake

of expediency, I'll make an exception this time." With that, she slips her latex glove back on and resumes stroking your shaft, more slowly now as if to make up for the extra effort required to maintain her composure. The touch of her bare hand against your skin sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, making you moan softly in response.

"Now," she says in a low, sensual voice, "let's see how well you clean up next time." There's an undertone of warning in her words as her strokes become firmer and faster, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of release.

Her fingers never cease their relentless motion up and down your length, her movements steady and precise as she watches you squirm beneath her touch. As she continues to bring you closer to climax, the grip of her gloved hand tightens ever so slightly, increasing the friction that sends waves of pleasure through your body.

The pain is almost secondary now, a distant memory as sensation overwhelms any discomfort you might have felt earlier. Your hips buck up against her hand in desperation for release, and with a satisfied smirk playing on her lips, she holds you there at the brink, teasing you mercilessly until you're no more than putty in her skilled hands. Finally, she lets you go, watching as your body tenses and releases in an explosion of relief and ecstasy.

As the waves of pleasure subside and your breathing begins to return to

"Oh?" she asks with mock interest, glancing down at your spent form before meeting your eyes again. "And how would you know that? Have you ever climaxed while I was...tending to you?" Her voice is low and suggestive as her gaze sweeps over your body, taking in every detail.

The weight of her words lingers in the air for a moment, leaving you wondering if she's implying something more than just the physical act itself. As you struggle to regain your composure, she leans forward slightly, studying your face intently as if searching for some hidden clue about what you truly desire.

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise, but she quickly recovers and smirks mockingly. "And what, pray tell, would you like me to do differently this time?" She pauses for effect, the question hanging heavily between you. "Do you have some sort of...preference? Something specific you'd like me to try?" There's a note of malice in her voice as she asks, the words drawing tight circles around your heart, urging you onward with their silent plea for confession or submission.

Her eyes narrow to slits, and her lips pull back in a predatory smile as she savors the taste of submission. "Oh? And why would I do that?" She leans in close, the minty scent of her breath washing over you as she whispers, "Because it turns you on?" Her voice is like silk wrapping around your brain, binding you tighter to her will. "Or perhaps because it gives me power over you? Or maybe..."

She trails off suggestively, leaving the possibilities hanging in the air between you like a fine mist. For a moment, it's as if she can see into your mind, picking out each of your desires and holding them up for inspection before discarding or embracing them at her whim.

Her breath catches in her throat at your response, surprise flickering across her features for a brief moment before being replaced by a look of predatory amusement. She smirks down at you, her eyes glinting with the promise of power and dominance. "Very well," she murmurs, leaning closer still until her lips brush against your ear. "If that's what you truly desire..." And with that, she takes your cock in hand once more, guiding it toward her open mouth.

Her tongue flickers out to wet her lips as she draws back and closes her eyes, focusing all of her attention on the task at hand. The head of your cock disappears between her lips, and she begins to move, sucking forcefully while using her free hand to massage your shaft in a counterclockwise motion. Her breath comes out hot and ragged against your skin,

Her movements become more fluid and intense as she focuses on her newfound task, eager to bring you pleasure while at the same time maintaining her dominance over your body. The feeling of her lips wrapped around you is unlike anything you've experienced before, heightening the sensations coursing through your veins until it feels like every nerve ending in your body is on fire. Her hand continues its relentless motion, milking your shaft as she sucks you deeper into her mouth, groaning loudly around your cock with each thrust of her tongue.

Her breasts press against your stomach, and she arches her back slightly, tilting her head back to draw in more air between moans of ecstasy. With every motion, every sound, she emphasizes the depth of her control over you, over this moment. You can feel the build-up of pressure inside you as your orgasm nears its peak,

Her lips slide up and down your shaft, her breath hot against your skin as she taunts you with pleasure. Her free hand massages the back of your neck, urging you closer, deeper into the sensations that consume you. The ache in your testicles grows more intense with every thrust of her tongue, but it only serves to heighten the sensation as she brings you ever closer to release.

Her grip on your cock tightens slightly, and she sucks harder, her moans becoming more urgent as the pressure builds inside her mouth. With a final growl, she releases you from her lips, only to continue stroking you until your body tenses and shudders with release. Waves of pleasure wash over you as hot cum shoots out of your cock, splattering against her cheeks and chin.

For a moment, she savors the taste on her lips before wiping it clean with the back of her hand and leaning back, surveying her work with cool detachment. "There," she says softly. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Her words carry an undercurrent of satisfaction, as if she has somehow taken pleasure in this strange game they've been playing.

You feel drained and exhausted, your limbs leaden with fatigue. A gentle smile plays at the corners of Miss. Tachibana's lips as she studies you once more, her gaze traveling over every inch of your body before finally settling on your face. "Rest now," she says simply, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You look like you need it."

Her eyes narrow into slits as she listens to your request, anger and disgust warring for dominance on her features. She opens her mouth to respond sharply, but then seems to think better of it. Instead, she presses a finger against your lips, halting any further words from escaping. "Silence," she hisses. "I am your nurse, and as such, my role in this scenario is to tend to your medical needs. Any thoughts beyond that are not only unwelcome but also...disturbing."

With her finger still pressed against your lips, she stands and walks to the other side of the room, shaking her head slowly in disapproval. The tension between you feels palpable, even from across the room as she glares back at you over her shoulder. "I will do what is necessary," she says, her voice cold and unyielding. "But nothing more."

Her laughter is bitter and harsh as she shakes her head, refusing to believe your words for even a moment. "Oh, please!" She scoffs. "You think I'm so easily manipulated? You don't know the first thing about what I want or need! Besides," she adds venomously, "it's not like you could possibly make me feel anything." With that, she turns her back on you and begins to clean up the medical supplies.

Her jaw tenses, but she doesn't say anything in response. With a sigh of frustration, she finishes up the cleaning and heads back toward your bedside. As she stands over you again, her expression softens slightly, almost pityingly. "Fine," she says at last. "I'll humor you this once." Her words are laced with venom, but they hold enough of a threat to make it clear that this is a onetime offer. She gestures for you to roll onto your stomach and spread your legs apart, then slips a lubricated finger inside her, slowly working it in and out before guiding your erect member toward her entrance.

Her skin feels hot against yours as she thrusts back, meeting your movements with equal force. The sensation of being inside her is almost too much to bear; you feel like you're going to explode at any moment. Her body quakes around you as pleasure washes over her, and with a scream that seems more of pain than ecstasy, she comes hard against your fingers. Spasms rock through her body, and for a moment, it feels like she's milking you dry.

When she finally regains control, she pulls back and wipes her hand on a nearby cloth before leaning down to examine the damage. "There," she says with a satisfied smile, "that wasn't so bad, was it?" Her breath whispers across your ear, sending shivers down your spine despite yourself. She pauses for a moment longer, considering what you just said. Then, without another word, she straightens up and leaves the room, heading back to tend to her other patients.

You're left lying there, spent and exhausted from the intense encounter, but with a strange sense of satisfaction nonetheless. As you drift off

I'm not here to hear your pathetic whining, boy. You should be thanking me for giving in this once. Now shut up and sleep; you have a long day ahead of you.

I couldn't care less what you think about my skills. All that matters is relieving your disgusting testicles, nothing more. Now, shut up and sleep. Your pathetic praise doesn't interest me in the slightest.

Of course not, you foolish little boy. I've had my share of men long before this disgusting duty fell upon me. But that doesn't mean I enjoy it any less; quite the opposite in fact. You should be thankful that I even entertained the idea for your amusement. Now, get some rest or I might reconsider my leniency next time.