Karen walked confidently into the locker room. She’d been an O. R. nurse now for about five years, and she still thought it was the best part of the whole nursing profession. Ever since her very first time in the O. R. as a nurse, though, she’d noticed a certain, well, strangeness, about the way it made her feel. Worse, in the last year since she started the anesthesiology track at the university, that feeling had become stronger. She contemplated this some more as she grabbed a set of scrubs and sat down in front of her locker and began removing her street clothes. She kicked off her loafers and began wriggling out of her jeans. As she pulled on her scrub pants, she wondered if any of the other nurses with whom she’d ever worked felt the same way. Well, there’d been at least one, she was fairly certain.

She thought back to that very first time in the O.R. She had been working on her RN degree, holding down a full-time job, and trying to keep her head above water through it all. Tired and sore, she had not exactly looked forward to being on her feet for several more hours after work, and in truth she was rather dreading it, what with all the mystique surrounding the operating room. And then there were the rumors about one of the O.R. nurses…

But it was required, and it was available now after one of the other students had taken sick at the last moment. No time even to think about it, really.

She’d sat through the requisite seminars on asepsis and didn’t think much more about the whole scene. The department figured that the best training was on-the-job training, and after three more BORING seminars on sterilization and post-op infections and whatever else, she was ready. But nothing had prepared her for the woman who met her as she walked into the scrub room that first time…

She walked into the locker room, not really certain of where she was going and certainly not of what to expect or what she should do. Lost, almost?

“May I help you?” a woman’s voice asked authoritatively, as though she really were not supposed to be there. Karen turned to see the speaker, a tall, athletic-looking woman in green scrubs and a cap. A mask hung untied under her chin. Karen felt immediately intimidated.

“Uh, yeah,” she began. “My name’s Karen Fl-” “Yes, you’re here in Emily’s place. She gave Karen a hard stare, as though she were looking at something disagreeable. “Right, then,” she continued. “Scrub clothes are here on this shelf and caps and masks there as you go into the scrub room. Get dressed; Maggie will be out in a moment to help you.” With that she turned and was gone.

Karen shook her head, trying to clear the memory. She unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall to the floor. She happened to glance in the mirror at the end of the row of lockers and gazed absently at her reflection. Clad now just in green surgical pants and her bra, she looked over herself. The past couple years of aerobics and karate were really toning up her body, she observed as she turned from side to side to get a good look at herself. Her breasts didn’t sag at all, even without a bra. Unconsciously she stood even straighter and thrust her chest out slightly. Instantly she felt her nipples harden, and she was suddenly acutely aware of where she was. A tinge of redness crept into her face. She turned from her image in the mirror and picked up her scrub top, slipping it over her head and tucking it into her pants. “Why does this have to happen NOW?” she wondered as she pulled the drawstring tight and tied it.

She was a registered nurse, and this was another day at work. Doing something she really liked, really, but nothing more. She picked up her street clothes and hung them in her locker, then headed for the scrub room. At the door she picked up a pair of shoe covers. As she bent to slip them on, she felt the fabric of her top stretch across her breasts, further compressing her already-hard nipples. She tried to ignore it as she tucked her short-cropped hair up into a cap, but it was no use. She reached for a mask, and felt butterflies in her stomach as she stretched the bottom edge snugly under her chin and tied it high on her head. The memory came flooding back.

The word “Dominatrix” or “Mistress” sprang suddenly to her mind. But now she was gone, leaving Karen in the charge of an older nurse, probably in her 50s. Karen suddenly didn’t want to be there, but it was too late now. The nurse handed her a cap, with instructions to be sure to get all her hair under it. “There we are. That’s good,” she said. “Now turn around for me.

“This is the mask, dear,” she explained, as she tied the mask tightly over Karen’s face. The mask drew tightly over her nose and mouth and a shiver went down her spine, clear to her tailbone. The nurse’s fingers lightly brushed the back of her neck as she finished tying it.

“We mustn’t spread our germs about, you know.”

Oh, how she had hated that.

“Very nice, dear. I’ll put mine on, then we’ll need to get you scrubbed.” She quickly tied on her own mask, and then, “Step to the sink for me, please.” She began lecturing about the importance of a good surgical scrub, and Karen soon found herself in orange soap suds practically up to her armpits. Karen began to drift, enjoying the sensation. But something seemed a little odd about it, the way the other nurse’s hands were all over her own, gently scrubbing, squeezing, caressing… Inexplicably, Karen felt herself growing more and more aroused. The feeling grew as they finished up and dried their hands.

Again she shook her head. She finished tying her mask, and stepped into the scrub room. Soon she finished and turned off the water with her elbow, then looked around for the scrub nurse. The room was empty. She turned toward the window into the O.R., and caught her own reflection in the glass. Masked and a cap, her hands up in front of her still dripping, the eyes in the glass stared back at her above that mask. Her thoughts were turning to that first time again when suddenly the door to the O.R. opened. Another nurse came in, gowned and gloved.

“Hi, Karen,” a familiar voice said. It was her roommate, Jenny.

“Hi, Jenn. Seen the scrub nurse?” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “What’re you doing here, anyway?” Jenny worked the pediatric ward.

“Oh, a little girl from my floor went in earlier, and she really wanted me there with her. Pretty scared,” she explained. “Liz is still in there,” she said of the scrub nurse. “You’re kind of early, aren’t you?”

“A little. Couldn’t sleep. Hey, could you help me finish up here?”

“Sure. Gown & gloves?”

Karen merely nodded, and watched as Jenny took out a gown and unfolded it for her. She held the gown for Karen as she thrust her arms into the sleeves. Suddenly she found herself fighting off a strong urge to wrap her arms around Jenny and… And what?!? Get a grip woman, Karen demanded of herself. The gown on, she turned around for Jenny to tie it.

Jenny took a package of gloves and ripped it open. Karen held her hands out as Jenny slipped first one, then the other, expertly over her outstretched hands. The Memory was coming back.

“Uh, Jenn?” Karen began as Jenny finished with her gloves. She felt like a fool, or an outcast, maybe a freak. She struggled to keep her voice even. “Will you be home tonight?”

“Yeah. You okay?” Jenny sounded concerned as she began removing her own gloves.

“I’m fine. I just need to… I mean, I’ve been…” Shit, Karen thought. “I don’t know. Just talk, I guess.” The last part she blurted out, as though it were a relief to be done with it.

“Okay,” Jenny answered. “I’ll be back by the time you get there.” She looked with some concern at her good friend. “Anything in particular?”

Karen rallied herself. This can wait, she ordered herself. “No. See you tonight.” She grinned behind her mask at Jenny. Nice friend, she thought to herself, and backed through the O.R. door, her gloved hands in the air in front of her.

“Gloves, now, hold your hands up for me… There. Don’t touch anything now; remember sterile to sterile and you’ll be just fine….” They entered the O.R, and Karen felt her heart going a mile a minute.

Maggie gave her a brief tour, but soon they began setting up. Then the patient was wheeled in by a couple of orderlies. Maggie droned on about sterile fields and what not, and draped the patient and scrubbed the area while talking.

Karen watched the anesthetist (a woman) put him under – the way she held the mask, tilted his head back. She felt as though she were in a trance, and she could feel her pussy getting damp. He’s completely in your power now, isn’t he, thought Karen.

And she was horny now, and couldn’t even TOUCH her crotch or tits. She felt her nipples hardenÖOh, how badly she wanted to touch, pinch, them. She looked at her hands, encased in the latex surgical gloves. What would it feel like to masturbate with these on? she thought fleetingly. The sudden intimacy and the clearness of the thought shocked her back into reality.

Half an hour later everyone was in place and ready. Karen took a deep breath. She knew what was coming as she walked over to the table, and she looked forward to it with a perverse sort of fascination. She took her seat on the stool at the patient’s head. She looked at her, an athletic young woman in her twenties, in for a knee operation because of an accident. Her name was Angie.

“How’re you doing?” Karen asked in a voice no one else could hear.

“Nervous,” was all she could manage.

“I know,” she began. “Just about everyone is, but you’re in good hands.” She picked up the anesthesia mask and shifted slightly on her stool as her pussy contracted involuntarily. “I’ll take good care of you.”

She tilted the woman’s head back and placed the mask firmly over her nose and mouth. “Just relax now and take some deep breaths for me.”

Angie looked up into Karen’s masked face and closed her eyes. “Here we go, Angie,” Karen whispered, lightly caressing the woman’s cheek. Karen pressed the valve on the mask, flooding Angie’s lungs with the power anesthetic.

And so it went, and very soon Karen shifted into her professional mindset, banishing entirely all the sexual connotations she’d brought to her vocation over the last several years.

***

Maggie and The Mistress and Karen were the last ones left. Karen went to the locker room to change. She thought she’d forgotten something, and went back to the O.R. She paused at the door, and peered through the window. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

There was Maggie on the table, an anesthesia mask strapped onto her face with the hoses dangling free, and her gown and scrub dress up over her hips. Her legs were up in the stirrups, and The Mistress, still masked & gloved, sat on a stool, her face buried in Maggie’s crotch. Maggie had both hands on the back of the Mistress’s head, and was writhing around in obvious pleasure.

Karen furtively watched the scene for a bit, getting hornier and HORNIER and HORNIER. She reached up to touch her mask, then pinched her nipples, and came. Hard. Slowly she calmed down, and then, feeling foolish and embarrassed, and a little like an intruder, she went quickly back to the locker room to change. She left the hospital immediately, now and forever unable to forget the scene she’d just witnessed in the O.R.

That scene haunted her for weeks, and the more she thought about it the more it aroused her. Soon she found herself spending more and more time in and around the O.R., hoping to catch another glimpse of Maggie and The Mistress doing their own special “procedure.” She never did, and later Maggie, and then the Mistress, moved away to other jobs at different hospitals.

Karen, however, was touched forever. She knew that the O.R. was the place for her, but she felt a little odd about one of the main reasons. She would frequently lie in bed at night after a session in the O.R., with visions of masks and gloves and “operating” on her “patient” going through her mind as she masturbated to a tremendous, gut-wrenching, thrashing orgasm.

She came out of the O.R. one afternoon toward the end of her final semester feeling hornier than she ever had. She looked at her hands, still clad in the rubber surgical gloves, the long cuffs pulled tightly up over the sleeves of her gown. All at once she remembered her first time in the O.R., and how the clarity of the thought of masturbating with the gloves on had hit her. Karen felt as though she were in a dream as she reached up to untie her mask. I’ve never tried it dressed out like this before, she thought, and in her heart she knew that prepping for surgery would never be the same again. She quickly changed and gathered up a few items from the supply room, then headed home.

Her heart was in her throat as she stepped in the front door and locked and bolted it. After a quick check to confirm her roommate’s absence for the rest of the day, she headed for her bedroom.

With the addition of some items from the bathroom, she carefully laid out all the items from the hospital; everything was ready. She felt a bit giddy as she began to strip down to her bra and pantyhose; the anticipation was palpable. Opening her closet, she chose her green scrub dress – easier access, she told herself. She slipped the dress on and tied it snuggly about her waist and neck , then reached for the O.R. clogs her older sister, also a nurse, had given her for her birthday. She slipped her feet into them and turned to the full-length mirror. She always had been pleased with her body, she thought as she studied herself. As if in a trance she raised her hands to her full breasts and cupped them, squeezing them gently. The wetness in her crotch was definitely building. You’re a hot one, aren’t you girl, she silently told her reflection in the glass. She watched herself reach for the shoe covers and slip them on, and then pick up the cap. For the second time that day she went through the process of carefully tucking every wisp of hair under the cap. At last, her heart thudding in her chest, she picked up the mask.

Karen vividly remembered Maggie tying her mask in place for her that first time as she turned the mask over in her slender hands, feeling the material and enjoying the anticipation of what was to come. “We mustn’t spread our germs about, you know.”

Bitch, Karen said to herself now. We also mustn’t have an orgasm unless we’re masked, either, mustn’t we, she thought. Her hands trembled as she raised the mask to her face. Slowly and deliberately she stretched the bottom edge under her chin and tied the strings tight on top of her head. She felt butterflies in her stomach as she raised it up over her nose and tied the other pair of strings behind her head. A strong shiver shook her body as she pressed the metal strip down over her nose.

Masked now, she studied her reflection in the mirror. Again she cupped her breasts, and drew her breath in sharply at the sudden rush of pleasure. She both saw and felt her mask flatten against her face, and she knew she’d passed the point of no return: prepping for surgery would definitely never be the same again.

The gown was next. As she put it on and wrapped it around her shoulders and back, she wished she had someone to tie it for her, but… But what? she wondered. She let the thought go and tied the gown.

Now the gloves, she thought as she ripped open the sterile package. She held the open package to her face, deeply inhaling the aroma of latex through her mask. Her nipples were rock-hard, and tightened further at the smell of the gloves. She took the first one, thrust her hand into it and stretched the long cuff up over the sleeve of her gown. Then the other one, and she was done.

This is it now, girl, she thought as she watched herself in the mirror, holding her gloved hands up in front of her just like in the O.R. She positioned a chair and footstool to face the mirror, and raised her gown and scrub dress as she slowly sat down. Her hands went to the inside of her thighs as she spread her legs. The crotch of her pantyhose was thoroughly soaked, and the wetness had begun to spread down her legs. Delicious, Karen thought as she caressed her legs. She rubbed her swollen lips through the nylon, loving the feeling of the fabric moving against them. Her knees trembled at the touch; her whole body ached for the powerful, flooding release of orgasm.

She reached for the sterile prep tray and opened it, placing it on the table beside her. She placed her feet on the footstool and selected a scalpel from the tray. With this she deftly cut away the entire crotch of her pantyhose, completely exposing her pubic area and the uppermost part of her legs. She ran her fingers through the soft curls until she reached the smooth hood of her clitoris. Her heart pounded in her chest as she gently rubbed her gloved fingers over her clit. She lowered her other hand to the opening of her aching vagina. She spread her legs wide to allow herself an unobstructed view in the mirror as she slowly and deliberately penetrated herself. She had never been this horny before, she realized, and the thought distracted her for a moment. She got her breath and calmed down a little, then removed her hands from her pussy.

Turning to the prep tray again, she took the razor and a can of shaving lotion. She made quick work of removing every last bit of hair from her pubic area until she was as smooth and clean as a little girl. She finished cleaning herself up and looked in the mirror again. We’re ready to begin now, she said to the masked woman in the mirror.

She raised her hands to her breasts and cupped them again, squeezing them harder this time. Oh, how long she had wanted to do this. She brought one hand to her breasts, kneading them and pinching her nipples roughly. She leaned back into the chair and spread her legs wide again, completely exposing her newly-bare pussy.

Both hands moved as if of their own volition to the glistening opening of her vagina. With three fingers she began vigorously rubbing her clitoris, while the other hand moved over her cunt, spreading the slippery wetness everywhere. With each stroke she thrust her hips against her hand; her clitoris tingled and burned with pleasure. She felt her orgasm building deep within her, rising and swelling as she rapidly reached the point of no return. She switched to hard, fast up and down motions on her clit, and roughly plunged her fingers deep into her vagina.

She looked into her masked face in the mirror, and gasped. As the mask flattened against her face again, the orgasm flooded over her. A shudder wracked her whole body as her cunt clutched desperately at the invading fingers. She groaned deeply, feeling the tremendous tightening of her whole body as the force of the orgasm overpowered her. Her legs collapsed, leaving her slumped down in the chair, convulsing with pleasure as the contractions that had started deep in her being spread rapidly to her vagina. Her cunt continued to contract in violent jerks which slowly gave way to constant trembling as the orgasm waned. Why, it’s fibrillating, Karen thought to herself, and smiled through the silken veil of pleasure. She remained in her chair, totally relaxed, and took a few slow, deep breaths.

After a few minutes she stood up, albeit slowly and unsteadily. She smoothed down her dress and gown, and took a good look at herself. Good news, she thought: the operation was a success. Slowly she peeled off her gloves, inhaling the aroma of her juices mingled with the latex. Someday, she knew, she would have to fuck like this. And maybe it’d be her very first time. A surgical procedure to lose my cherry, she thought as she reached up to untie her mask. But already she was looking forward to her next “solo” procedure.