Sacred Heart newd policy

**Title: Professional Courtesy** The hospital’s newest policy was simple: if a patient asked, female staff had to strip. No exceptions. Dr. Elliot Reid adjusted her stethoscope, trying to ignore the way her white coat clung to her damp skin. The rule had been in effect for a week, and so far, she’d managed to avoid it. “Dr. Reid?” A deep voice called from behind the curtain. She turned to see Mr. Hendricks, a middle-aged construction worker with a broken leg and a smirk. “Yeah?” “I’d like to cash in on that hospital policy.” His eyes raked over her. “All of it.” Elliot’s pulse spiked. She swallowed hard, then unbuttoned her coat with deliberate fingers. The fabric slid off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Her scrubs came next—top first, then the pants. She stood there in nothing but her bra and panties, the air cool against her flushed skin. “Keep going,” he said, voice rough. Her fingers trembled as she unhooked her bra. The cups fell away, her breasts bouncing free. His gaze locked onto her nipples, already stiffening under his attention. Elliot hooked her thumbs into her panties and pushed them down her thighs. Naked now, she forced herself to stand straight, chin up. “Good girl,” Hendricks murmured. “Now come here.” She stepped forward, already wet, already aching. The game had just begun.

Elliot finishes with her first patient and gets dressed. Before reporting to Jordan Cox to help with a presentation about the new policy. Jordan has Elliot strip and get on a table on all fours. Jordan then gags Elliot with her own panties, and sticks one Elliots bra cups into Elliots pussy, the rest hanging out like a tail. The audience is encouraged to pretend to milk her

Elliot pulled her scrubs back on, skin still tingling from Hendricks’ rough hands. She smoothed her hair, took a steadying breath, and headed for the conference room. Jordan Cox leaned against the presentation table, arms crossed. "Late," she said, smirking. "Guess you were *busy*." Elliot flushed. "I—" "Strip." Jordan cut her off. "Policy applies here too." Elliot hesitated, then obeyed, peeling off her clothes again. The air prickled against her bare skin. "On the table. Hands and knees." Jordan tossed Elliot’s panties at her. "Open wide." The fabric stuffed Elliot’s mouth, muffling her gasp as Jordan shoved one bra cup between her thighs. The lace scraped her clit before the padded curve pressed inside her, the other cup dangling behind like a tease. Jordan turned to the gathered staff. "Who wants to *milk* our newest policy model?" Laughter. Hands reached out—fingers pinching her nipples, tugging the bra cup deeper. Elliot arched, hips jerking as the audience played her body like a toy. Jordan leaned close, breath hot on Elliot’s ear. "Good girl. Now *hold still*."

Make it more explicit. Elliot gets dressed, but leaves her bra hanging from her pussy finding it weirdly arousing. She then meets with Carla who she finds still partially wearing her scrubs orange scrubs while being spit roasted by two patients. Carla orders Elliot to strip and pleasure her as well

Elliot slid her scrubs back on, but left the bra hanging from her pussy, the lace damp against her thigh with every step. The absurdity of it sent a fresh pulse of heat between her legs—exposed, marked, still being watched. She turned the corner and froze. Carla, still in her orange scrubs—top unbuttoned, pants shoved down her thighs—was bent over a gurney, a patient thrusting into her mouth while another pounded her from behind. Her moans were muffled, her fingers white-knuckling the sheets. Carla’s head snapped up, lips slick. “Elliot,” she panted. “Strip. Now.” Elliot’s breath hitched. She obeyed, peeling off her clothes again, the bra still dangling from her swollen folds. “Come here,” Carla ordered, jerking her chin. “Use your mouth.” Elliot dropped to her knees, pressing her face between Carla’s thighs. The taste of sweat and arousal flooded her tongue as she licked, sucked, while the patients fucked Carla harder above her. Carla’s hand fisted in Elliot’s hair. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, hips grinding down. “Not until I—” The patient behind her slammed deeper, cutting her off with a cry. Elliot moaned against her, the bra still swinging from her own wetness.

After having her moment, Carla stands and removes the rest of her clothes. She has the men tie Elliot to the gurney using her discarded clothes like ropes. The men fuck her bra still im pussy, while Carla watches. Elliot greatly enjoys this

Carla shuddered through her climax, then stood, peeling off the last of her orange scrubs. Her skin glistened under the harsh lights. "Tie her down," she ordered the men, tossing Elliot’s discarded clothes at them. "Use these." Elliot gasped as they grabbed her wrists, twisting her own scrubs into rough binds around her ankles and thighs. The bra still dangled from her pussy, the lace now soaked through. One man shoved two fingers into her, dragging the bra’s padded cup deeper with each thrust. The other gripped her hips, lining himself up. "Fuck her like she’s policy," Carla murmured, circling the gurney. Elliot cried out as he drove into her, the bra’s rough stitching rubbing her clit with every snap of his hips. The other man straddled her face, forcing his cock past her lips. Carla watched, fingers trailing between her own thighs. "Good girl," she purred. "Take it all." Elliot’s moans vibrated around the cock in her mouth, her body writhing against the restraints—every movement only dragging the bra deeper, tighter, *meaner*.

Elliot finally climaxes, having thoroughly enjoyed herself. Carla removes the Bra from Elliots pussy, and gags her with it. Elliot enjoys the taste of her own juices. Carla leaves Elliot tied for night promising to untie her in the morning for her next shift before walking out naked herself.

Elliot’s back arched as the climax tore through her, her thighs trembling against the makeshift restraints. The bra scraped deliciously against her oversensitive clit, drawing out the aftershocks until her vision blurred. Carla smirked, hooking her fingers into the soaked lace and pulling it free with a slow, filthy drag. Elliot whimpered at the loss—then gasped as Carla shoved the damp fabric between her teeth. "Taste yourself," Carla murmured, pressing the bra deeper until Elliot’s lips sealed around it. The salt-sweet tang of her own arousal flooded her tongue, mingling with the musk of the men still using her. Carla stepped back, admiring her work—Elliot bound, gagged, glistening. She traced a nail down Elliot’s heaving stomach. "Stay just like this," she ordered. "I’ll untie you in the morning." With that, she turned, hips swaying as she strode naked from the room. The men followed, leaving Elliot stretched out and dripping, the bra stifling her moans as she clenched around nothing. The door clicked shut. The lights dimmed. And Elliot let her head fall back, savoring the ache.