12 comments/ 88845 views/ 36 favorites After the Lecture By: dr_mabeuse “And so we see that it is not only possible that the human female is not only capable of a sensual enjoyment of the sexual act on a par with the male’s, but that such enjoyment may be vital to her own health and physical well-being. My own research has demonstrated that the female orgasm is no myth, ladies and gentlemen, but a new and hitherto unknown territory, and one which my work will continue to chart and explore.” The gaslights in the auditorium were now turned up, and as light flooded the darkened hall so did the low undercurrent of murmured voices rise and crest like an ocean wave, then crash on the shore into an eruption of confused talk, shouts and objections. The Doctor picked up his notes and tapped the edges together. He had been waiting for this. Indeed, he’d been expecting it, and now he regarded the sea of excited faces beneath the flickering gaslights with a certain equanimity and quiet disdain. The most eminent physicians had left long before, muttering aloud about scientific heresy and insults to the sanctity of womanhood, but those who were left were no less vociferous. The volume of talk grew, a riot waiting to happen. “I will entertain questions from the floor,” he said into the growing din, but the audience was already too far out of control to make that feasible. There were shouts and arguments, even some threats and pushing and shoving from the back of the stuffy lecture hall where the local clergy had staged a now not so silent demonstration in protest of his thesis of the existence of the female orgasm. He ignored the fracas. He really had no desire to field a bunch of ignorant comments from an angry and outraged mob, and his invitation for questions had been a mere formality. Already the chairman was gesturing for him to hurry off the dais before things grew ugly, and as he prepared to leave, his eye was caught by the form of an astonishingly lovely young lady who sat some five rows back, her eyes shining with wonder and admiration. She would have caught his eye anywhere, but sitting there calmly amidst the hubbub, her eyes glowing under the shadow of her hat with a look somewhere between rapt interest and adoration, she held him eye as an oasis of placid female beauty amidst a sea of madness. He took a moment to smile at her and nod his head, and after a moment of recognition, she nodded back, her eyes still rapt. He gathered his notes, took one last look at the young beauty, then allowed the chairman to take him arm and lead him towards the side door. He moved deliberately, refusing to be bundled about, calmly sliding his notes into his valise. “This way, Doctor, please. A carriage is waiting.” The side door was already open, a closed carriage standing by, no doubt so the Doctor wouldn’t be recognized by the angry crowd that was already gathering by the front door. The chairman held the side door open, muttering nervous apologies and thanks for the most stimulating lecture, although it was obvious he was eager to be rid of his controversial guest. The Doctor slid into his cape and stepped out into the cool mist of the cobbled alleyway. “Oh Doctor? Doctor? A word with you, if you please.” It was the young lady from the audience, hurrying out the side door after him. She was now fully recovered, though her eyes still shone with that radiant excitement. “Do hurry miss,” the chairman said. “The crowd is getting restive. It’s best that the Doctor leave as soon as possible.” Mabeuse looked at the young woman. Her blonde hair was gathered up beneath her hat, revealing a long and graceful neck. Her gown beneath her dark blue traveling cloak was white, simple yet elegant, and did little to conceal the proud thrust of her young breasts and her other obvious womanly charms. But it was her face that stopped the Doctor: beautiful and intelligent with flawless skin, a mouth open in a kind of expectant sensuality and large, questioning hazel-green eyes of an almost startling purity. The look on her face was one he had seen before on the faces of the young women who surreptitiously came to him for help with problems of their own sexuality: the fear, the embarrassment, the desperate longing. It was a look he could never refuse. “Come,” he said. “Into the coach. We can talk there.” The crowd was spilling over into the street as he helped her into the carriage and called out the address of his institute to the driver. The coachman flicked his whip and the carriage pulled out into the street, the crowd parting before them. The young lady sat up straight opposite him, holding onto a strap on the inside of the coach. The crowd apparently made her nervous, but the Doctor was used to it. He said nothing, just stared at her from beneath lowered brows as they left the lights and confusion of the lecture hall behind. The sounds faded rapidly until there was nothing but the clop of the horses’ hoofs against the cobblestones and the soft creak on the coach. The girl let out an audible sound of relief. “I’m afraid it’s always like that when I speak,” he said apologetically. ‘The public is not ready for the truth.” He smiled. “I am Doctor Elliot Mabeuse. How may I be of service to you, my dear?” “I had no idea,” she said. “But please, I must beg your pardon for intruding myself upon you like this, Doctor. My name is April Carnovan.” She smiled apologetically, then seemed to be at a loss as to how to continue. She brought her hand to her chest and played nervously with a small gold crucifix. “I hardly know where to begin.” “Perhaps we could start with your telling me where it is you’d like to go,” he said with an indulgent smile. “The coachman is taking us back to my institute.” “Yes. Certainly. That is… “ She drew in a deep breath and looked at him directly. “Doctor, the things you said in your lecture: are they true?” He stared at her for a moment, watching the flickering shadows from the street lights play against her young features. “Yes. Of course they’re true. I’m a scientist, my dear. I only deal in the truth. Why do you ask?” She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes darted nervously about the inside of the cab. The Doctor smiled. “Perhaps I could venture a guess. You’re not a physician or trained physiologist, probably not a trained scientist. You came to my lecture out of a deep curiosity, because your own experiences have led you to certain feelings and emotions that medical science does not understand nor choose to even recognize.” She lifted her big eyes to him in surprise but she said nothing. She nodded her head. “You have no ring on your hand, therefore you’re not married. You’re obviously a young lady of some breeding and refinement and I would say a fair bit of education too. Possibly even some university training to be broad-minded enough to attend one of my lectures. Intelligent, sensitive, and so these feelings cause you great concern and some worry. I daresay you might even be in fear for your health and sanity.” “Yes, Doctor,” she said eagerly. “Exactly. These feelings, they’re very difficult to manage. I’ve even consulted with some physicians, Dr. Lewis, Dr. Montmoracy…” “And they found nothing,” he said complacently. She nodded vigorously. “Female hysteria, they said. They prescribed gentian root and cold baths. A firmer corset and woolen drawers, that sort of thing.” “They’re both of them fools,” he snapped. “I’m surprised the didn’t send you to a barber to have yourself bled.” “But Doctor, these things I feel. They’re real. They torment me. Shortness of breath, flushing and weakness; faintness and palpitations and aches and pains within me. And oh, the most horrid dreams at night.” “And so you came to hear my lecture on the female sexual response.” Even in the darkness of the coach he could see her blush. “Yes,” she said. “I had to take the chance. I heard them discussing your theories at university. They said you were mad.” The coach hit a pothole, and both of them swayed in concert. “Are you feeling these things now?” he asked softly. There was quiet moment as she gathered her courage. “Yes. Yes they torment me constantly these days despite the cold baths. I carry salts with me at all times. I must.” “Come here, child,” the Doctor said, drawing himself up. “Sit beside me. Let me have a look at you.” April gathered up her skirts and shifted her seat so that she was sitting next to the Doctor against the back wall of the coach. The light from the outside candle-lanterns fell through the glass windows and the coach rocked softly as the Doctor took her wrist in his hand and felt for her pulse. He frowned. her skin was wonderfully soft but very warm. Accelerated heart beat, pulse thin and thready. The pulse of a strong and healthy but highly agitated young animal. “Forgive me, my dear,” he said in his professional voice, “But I must check your throat. Your carotid artery.” “Of course,” she said. She unpinned her hat and removed it. Her hair was as clean and golden as the candlelight and gave off a faint hint of some exotic perfume. The Doctor placed his hand on her throat, his fingers against the artery on one side, his thumb against the other. Her skin was soft and remarkably smooth, warm to his touch. Animal vitality and the feeling of raw female sexuality flooded into his senses as he touched her, and he worked to control his own breathing and maintain his medical demeanor. His loins were already filling with blood. April’s eyes were closed, her lips parted as he felt her throat. After several moments he slowly removed his hand so that he just brushed against her breast as he did so. Even through her dress he could feel the turgid peak of her nipple seem to twitch beneath his brief touch. The girl was on fire, and her body gave a little jerk when he touched her. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. She looked at him apprehensively. If she’d noticed his sneaking little touch, she didn’t show it, but her body’s response to his surreptitious caress told him more about her condition that either of her pulses did. This was a woman in the grip of advanced inorgasmic neuropathy: what his unenlightened colleagues called female hysteria He sat back against the side of the cab, dropping his hand into his lap to hide his erection. “I can help you,” he said. “I can help you this very night, if that’s what you want.” “Oh Doctor! Could you? Could you really? I don’t think I could face another night of tossing and turning. I haven’t slept in weeks.” “You must do exactly as I say.” He looked at her levelly. “You must give me your full confidence, and you must tell no one of what we do. As you know, I am not licensed to practice medicine in this state, and this must be under the guise of research. Do you understand?” “I can pay,” she said eagerly, scrambling for her bag. “I don’t have much, but what I have is yours.” He smiled and refrained from making a wicked little joke. “Payment is not necessary, my dear. It’s your co-operation and trust that I need. Will you give me that?” “With all my heart, Doctor. With all my heart.” The faith and trust in her eyes moved him, and yet also caused his stiffened member to throb painfully against his tight trousers. The coach had reached the intersection of State and River Streets. From here it took a turn and descended to the dim and misty waterfront district with its darkened warehouses and shadowy wharves. The fog was rising off the river, and the streetlights were little more than indistinct candle flames throwing little circles of yellow light in the soft, moist, darkness. “You suffer from an excess of female sexual humours,” he said. “This is the real cause of so-called female hysterias. The sexual humours are natural, yet they are like toxins that build up in the body. Unless they are discharged through orgasm, they can accumulate and poison the body, playing havoc with the circulatory and nervous systems. Tell me: do your breasts feel heavy and full?” He heard her slight gasp of breath at his crude language. “Come, come,” he said. “I’m a medical man, and your well-being depends on it. Answer me, Miss Carnovan.” “Yes,” she said. “Yes, they often ache. they’re very sensitive.” “And there’s a certain congestion in the genital region? A kind of hollow pressure?” “Yes. A terrible ache. Sometimes I throb there, and I get damp.” The Doctor smiled in the darkness. “It’s more serious than I thought. Come here, my dear. Closer to me.” He put his hand around her waist and pulled her closer and felt her nervous shudder when he touched her. Her flesh was firm and lithe under her layers of clothes, and he could feel the tension in her body. She fairly crackled with erotic electricity. “Stay calm now, Miss Carnovan,” he said. His hands found her skirt and he slowly lifted it, sliding the smooth fabric up over her legs in the darkness of the cab. Her lower legs came into view, slim and shapely in their white silk stockings. April held her breath but she gave a soft mewl of anguish as he touched her. Her legs trembled under his fingers. “Put your arms around my neck and hold on, my dear. I have to touch you.” She paused uncertainly for just a moment, then turned partway in her seat and put her arms tentatively around his neck, and she had little time to protest or object before the Doctor boldly slid his hand up under her skirt and made contact with the hot, moist juncture between her legs. “Oh God!” April sobbed, shoving her body against him and pulling him tight. The Doctor bit back a wicked smile as he found the fleshy mounds of her engorged labia pressing against her silken knickers and ran his knuckles along her feverish crease, feeling her girlish softness. April’s hips instinctively thrust against him as if with a mind of their own, seeking more pressure and harder contact. She held him tight, buried her face against his neck and sobbed. “There, there,” he soothed. “It’s all right. That’s normal. It’s perfectly normal.” “Oh God! Oh, it feels so good! Doctor, that feels so insanely good. What’s happening to me? Oh Doctor!” The girl was already pre-orgasmic. He could feel her pussy spasming against his fingers as if reaching for him. He realized that if he weren't careful, she would come right there in the coach, alarming the driver and creating who knows what kind of scandal. He stopped stroking her and pressed his hand hard against her throbbing mound, and she responded by gripping his hand tightly between her thighs, trapping him in the humid valley of her sex. She clung to him with every ounce of strength in her young body, trembling with the strain, her lush breasts crushed against him as she teetered on the edge of total release. “That thing you feel is your orgasm, Miss Carnovan, and you must fight it,” he whispered to her. “I know you want to, but not yet. Not till we’re inside. Fight it, Miss Carnovan. Hold on.” She gasped and nodded her head, then turned her face to him and looked into his eyes with such helplessness and desperate anguish that his cock lurched wickedly in his pants. He lowered his face to hers and she closed her eyes and presented her mouth to his kiss, and all the while her pussy shivered against his touch. His lips came down on hers and she moaned deeply and shivered in delicious response. Instinctively she opened her mouth, inviting him to come inside and do as he would. His passion rose, and April surrendered totally to his kiss, sucking his tongue into her mouth with an innocent hunger that made his blood boil. Her entire body vibrated against him with a feverish urgency, like a plucked violin string, and he kept his hand pressed hard against her cunt as if the pressure of his hand was the only thing keeping her orgasm locked inside her body. “Whoa!” the driver called and the carriage rocked to a stop. The Doctor removed his mouth from hers and Miss Carnovan sank back into the leather cushions, her legs twitching. “We’re here,” he said as he glanced out at the tall, dark brick townhouse, now wreathed in fog. “And not a moment too soon. Can you walk?” April let go of him and sat up, suddenly self-conscious but still trembling with need. She brushed a lock of her golden hair out of her face and said, “Yes. I think so. As long as it isn’t far. Oh Doctor, I feel so weak!” “It isn’t far,” he said. He helped her out of the coach and handed some bills to the driver. It was far more than the trip was worth and the driver was still tipping his hat and thanking him effusively as the Doctor put his arm around the shaking girl and led her in through the iron gate. There was a small garden in front, and a brass plaque that bore the inscription “The Mabeuse Institute”. He unlocked the massive front door and led her in through the foyer. April hardly noticed her surroundings as she leaned heavily against him. Thick carpets and rich draperies, art on the walls, the ticking of a grandfather clock. He guided her into a richly furnished front parlor and sat her down on a tufted sofa. “You’re faint,” he said, feeling her cheek with the back of his hand. Her skin was hot and flushed. “Loosen your clothes and try to relax. I’ll fetch you something to drink.” “Please, Doctor,” she said, seizing hold of his hand. “I know what it is I need now. Please…” “I know what you’re thinking,” he said firmly. “But trust me, it’s not that simple, Miss Carnovan. Now breathe deeply and try to relax. I’ll fetch you some sherry.” His own hands were shaking when he went to the sideboard and lifted the stopper from the decanter. Never in his career had he seen a woman reach such a state of such extreme sexual arousal so quickly before, and it affected him deeply. This young lady might be just the one he was looking for: the perfect subject for his research. He half-filled a small glass with sherry, then blocked her view with his body as he took a packet of white powder from a silver box and sprinkled it into her drink. He filled her glass and poured one for himself, then swirled her glass as the powder dissolved. A mild hypnotic and sexual stimulant. It might be cruel, but he had to know. “Doctor, I must apologize. My behavior in the coach…” “Not a word about it, my dear. All perfectly natural. Your drink, my dear. Now drink it down. All of it. It fortifies the blood.” She raised the ruby liquid to her lips and sipped, then sipped again. The Doctor watched as she drained the tiny glass, then he tossed off his own drink. He glanced at the clock to note the time. “I’ve been perfectly awful,” she said. “This is so embarrassing.” “Nonsense,” he aid, taking the glass from her fingers. “It’s a good thing you came to me when you did. Yours is a very serious case. Another few days, and who knows what might have happened.” “What you must think of me!” she said. “And I assure you I’m not like that at all. I’ve never even kissed a man, not before tonight. I’m still a virgin.” He smiled at her. “I know you are, my dear. And therein lies your problem.” Her eyes widened and she looked at him. “Then that means the cure must be…” She colored furiously, but he noticed with satisfaction that she didn’t outright reject what she was about to say. “That is one way,” he said. “But with the average male’s total lack of understanding of a woman’s needs, that might avail you nothing. Unless it were with the right man.” April kept her eyes down and the Doctor felt his excitement growing again. “There are other ways,” he said softly. “Ways I’ve developed here at the institute.” She looked at him eagerly. “Yes? There are?” “Stand up,” he said. April was unable to take her eyes from him. She swallowed heavily. “Come here, Miss Carnovan.” She stood. When she walked across the room towards him it was as if she were gliding, pulled towards him on invisible strings. After the Lecture She went to him and he opened her arms to her, and with the softest of sighs she fell into his embrace. “Doctor, please…” she began, but his lips came down on hers again, silencing her words. He kissed her and she didn’t resist. Again he felt the feverish heat build up in her body. She melted against him, her body molding to his, and the feel of her need and her soft vulnerability made his cock brutally hard. He had no compunction about thrusting himself against her firm thigh, letting her feel his own need for her, and he smiled inwardly as he heard her groan submissively deep in her throat, her body responding to the exciting pressure of his member against her. He slid his hands down to her tiny waist and held her against him as they kissed and he feasted on her mouth. The only sounds in the room were the ticking of the clock, the rustle of her dress under his hands, and the soft, pleading mewls of entreaty that issued from her throat. When he let her go she was panting, and her voice shook as she said, “Whatever you want, Doctor. Whatever you say to do, I’ll do. Help me, please. I’m on fire.” “Come with me.” He led her from the room and down a corridor to large locked door near the pantry. He unlocked the door with a key from his ring, lit the kerosene lantern that stood nearby, and, taking the lantern in one hand and her wrist in the other, led her through the door and down the ancient stone steps to the basement below. “My laboratory,” he explained. “Where I do all my research. In cases like yours, there’s only one effective treatment. It is difficult, and you must obey me implicitly, but it is the only thing that is sure to work.” He led her through the basement, past rooms that contained scientific instruments and chemist’s glassware. She caught sight of books and strange things in glass jars, a skeleton, bunches of dried plants hanging from the beams in the ceilings; strange charts and occult diagrams on the walls. Apparently, research into the female orgasm was a recondite and complex undertaking. He stopped by another door and had her hold the lantern high in her trembling hand as he undid the double locks. He opened the door, took the light, and led her inside. The room was large, windowless, and paneled in dark wood with a Persian carpet on the floor. The Doctor lit the gas lamps on the wall and April looked around in disbelief. She had never seen furniture like this before: there was a bed with a metal frame that she recognized well enough, but also a straight-backed, very heavy chair with straps attached to the arms and legs; a sort of pillory padded in black leather; frames and stools upholstered in leather and set with chains and silver eye-bolts whose use she could only wonder at. There were candelabra set about the place, and tables bearing lengths of rope and chain and other hardware, clips and pulleys and small clamps. He led her to a wall and her eyes widened to see manacles affixed to the paneling on short, stout, chains. “Doctor! My God! What is this? It looks like a medieval torture chamber.” He stopped and caught her with his eyes, intense now. “Do you trust me?” he asked. “Yes, of course. But…” “Then give me your hand.” With a sharp click he closed the manacle on her wrist, pinioning her hand to the wall at shoulder level. Then he did the other. He stood back and looked at her with a critical eye, then took off his coat and threw it over a chair and took a moment to run his fingers through his thick hair. April saw his broad shoulders, his powerful chest beneath his white cotton shirt. His eyes gleamed with a hunger that combined with her total helplessness to bring her emotions to a sudden, seething boil. “In all my years of work, I’ve never met anyone like you, April,” he said. “I have seen women in every type of sexual distress, but never anyone with your level of complete, consuming arousal. Are you aware of that? Are you aware of how special that is?” April couldn’t speak. A warm lethargy seemed to be taking possession of her limbs. She knew what she needed now: the feel of his hand on her sex, the pressure of his body against hers holding her tight, and yet that was not all she felt. The manacles on her wrists were like a lover’s hands, holding her against her will, exposing her body to whatever depredations he might wish to inflict on her, and suddenly she found a part of her mind wishing for the most cruel and delicious tortures to be applied to her. Just what, she didn’t know, but she ached to feel some wild and violent sensation, some physical version of what she saw in his eyes. He turned and walked to a massive wooden armoire, which he opened wide. Inside April could just glimpse various things hanging within: implements of leather and chromed steel, black and silver gleaming in the glow of the subdued gaslight. The Doctor selected a black riding crop, thin and wicked, and laid it on the table, and April felt a sudden thrill of delicious fear in the pit of her stomach. “I could have made you come in the carriage,” He closed the doors and picked up the crop, hefting it in his hands. “’Come,’” he said. “Are you familiar with that word? It means to orgasm. And that’s what you need so desperately, my dear: to come. And yet with a girl of such ardent temperament as yourself, I’m afraid such relief would have been minor and very short-lived. The roots of your sexual need go deep, very deep indeed, and to satisfy them, we must coax them to the surface. We must bring out the sexual animal that lives inside you, Miss Carnovan, bring her out into the light and force her into bloom like a rare and exotic orchid, that we may pluck it at its very moment of ripeness. Do you understand?” The girl’s eyes were wide and staring, her lips parted and to dry for speech. Her breasts heaved with her deep but steady breathing, pressing against a bodice that seemed suddenly much too tight and confining. The Doctor smiled. “No, perhaps you don’t. But you will. And you will trust me, April, that what I am about to do is for your own good.” She watched him approach, her gaze flicking from his hypnotic eyes to the whip in his hand. She felt her legs begin to tremble again with a excitement she couldn’t explain, and her stomach seemed to turn to liquid within her body. The Doctor came up to her and reached out, seized hold of her hair and pulled her head back in a savage grip. He cut off her sudden gasp of surprise by sealing her mouth with his lips. His kiss was fierce and possessive like pure electricity, and she almost swooned at the unexpected force of his passion. She couldn’t know that the drug he had slipped into her drink was helping sap her will, making her even more a slave to her body’s wild and forbidden desires which now surged unchecked through her blood with each beat of her fevered heart; but neither had she expected to feel this kind of desperate desire and consuming passion she felt from him, coming off him like animal heat. She had thought that she was the one who was out of control, who was barely able to contain her violent needs, but now she realized that he was every bit as excited as she was, and the idea that her own desire could inflame a man to this level of passion was almost more than she could bear. She felt weak; her hold on her very consciousness was slipping away. But just when she felt herself falling into the swooning haze of her own illicit desires, he brought the whip up and spanked it sharply against her nipple, sending a flash of pain through her body that lit her up like a bolt of lightening over a storm-dark sea. He spanked her again and April had to tear her mouth from his to gasp for sudden breath. The pain and sense of violation shocked her, but that was nothing compared to the burst of wild licentious heat that coursed through her body and made her arch her hips away from the wall, as if rising eagerly to this outrageous punishment of her tender body. He let go of the whip and took her breast in his greedy hand, wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed, and the strength of his hand was just what she needed. Her breasts felt achy and full to bursting, and his possessive grip seemed to be the only thing that held her together. Her shock and modesty made her pull away, but even as she did she contrived to push her body harder into his hand, wanting more. “Yes,” he said. “Perfect. Now we must get these clothes out of the way.” “Doctor! Please! What are you doing?” she moaned as his fingers went to the buttons of her bodice. He didn’t answer. His fingers worked swiftly, unfastening one button after another, and April was horrified. The kissing, the touching, even the whip she could stand, but despite the Doctor’s drug coursing through her veins she was still too much a child of her time to allow herself to be undressed without feeling a deep sense of shame and humiliation, albeit tinged with an unexpected surge of lewd excitement at the knowledge that her naked body would soon be prey to his hungry gaze. The Doctor ignored her protests. He had trouble with the buttons over her breasts, as the pressure of her sumptuous flesh was such that it strained the fasteners and he had to compress her breasts in order to push the buttons back out through the slits. April groaned at the feeling of his hands on her excited flesh, but from then on it was easy, and he opened the dress all the way down the front, down to the very hem above her ankles. The feel of his fingers working over her stomach and below chased any lingering feelings of modesty from her mind, and when he uncuffed her hands and commanded her to remove the garment entirely, April complied, holding onto his shoulder for balance as she slid her gown from her body. She stood before him dressed only in her shoes, stockings, and thin white camisole But when he took her wrist to re-attach the manacle, she suddenly resisted him, trying to pull her hand away. She looked at him from the depths of her near nakedness, feeling his hot eyes on her body. “Please, Doctor,” she begged breathlessly. “You know what I need. I’m naked before you without modesty or pride. Please, just take me now and end this torment. Do it, I beg!” He ignored her, pulled her arm back and clipped the manacle around her wrist. “You’re like a silly girl who goes around picking up bits of shiny metal from the sand when an entire gold mine lies just beneath the surface.” He fastened her other hand to the wall then picked up the whip. “It is time to mine the treasures within.” He leaned over her, one hand on her bound wrist, and ran the tip of the riding crop along the line of her jaw as if examining her, down her throat, over the peaked hill of her breast and down her stomach. She gasped as he the whip slid over the gentle mound of her lower belly and prodded her gently between the legs. It was a gesture of ownership: a foretaste of what was to come. “Besides,” he said. “You don’t even know what it’s called, do you? What common men and women call it. It’s called ‘fucking’. Can you say that? Can you ask me to fuck you? Go ahead, Miss Carnovan. Say it. Say ‘Fuck me Doctor. Put your big cock in my pussy and fuck me.’ ” April hung her head to the side, hiding her face in shame. She couldn’t possibly say such words and she never would. She might suffer from an excess of all the sexual humours in the world, but she could not compromise her womanly dignity to that extent. Even as she stood chained to the wall clad only in her underthings, she clung to her pride, her sense of being a proper lady. The Doctor grabbed her head again. Her stubbornness seemed to ignite his passion, and he kissed her savagely, running his hand over the silk camisole, warm from the excessive heat of her body, down over her side, till he reached down behind her and grabbed the globe of her ass and squeezed it as if he could express some rare juice from her flesh, some essence of divine female sexuality. April groaned submissively into his mouth, her little tongue fluttering against his like a frightened hummingbird. “Let me show you,” he said to her. He stepped back and smiled. “Look at your breasts, April. Go ahead and look at your nipples. They’re hard and erect. A sure sign of sexual arousal. You love this, don’t you? Deep inside you love what I’m doing to you.” April looked down at herself and saw the peaks of her nipples projecting against the sheer silk of her undergarment, casting dark shadows beneath them. Even her areolas showed through the thin fabric. But she didn’t need to look at herself to know her state of sexual torment and desire. Her womanhood was aching and swollen and seeping with her own aroused juices in a most shameless and humiliating way. She had hoped that he wouldn’t notice these telltale signs of her own arousal. She had hoped to maintain a shred of dignity. “But we can get you hotter than this. Watch.” The Doctor grabbed the top of the camisole and pulled, ripping it down the center and allowing her sumptuous young breasts to spill free, proud and high on her chest, rising and falling with her excited breathing. She was burning with shame and excitement, and one seemed to feed off the other as both fed off the blaze of angry lust she saw in his eyes as he looked at them. She still wore a pair of imported white French panties in the modern style, scandalously brief and sheer, her one naughty indulgence. She knew that they left nothing to the imagination: her little tuft of blond curls was visible through the exquisitely sheer fabric, which was now so damp with her own lubrication as to be nearly transparent. His eyes seemed to see right through them. Suddenly she had no secrets. The excitement and the humiliation were almost too much for her, and she grew suddenly lightheaded. She thought she might pass out, but just when she felt herself falling she was startled awake by the wicked hot slap of the whip against her nipple: a sharp stroke that just brushed by her eager bud, kissing it with the harsh leather and sending a spear of lurid pain down between her legs and up through her bound arms, and before the pain had even died away The Doctor’s tongue was on her breast doing the most obscene things, licking away the pain, circling her erect areola and soothing it, coaxing it into even greater hardness, painting her with his own sexual heat. April gasped. Again her hips thrust out reflexively, seeking some sort of contact, but this time she found the Doctor’s hand waiting for her. He reached out his fingers and slid them along her aching crease behind her thin panties and her stomach clenched into a paroxysm of needy pleasure that startled her, as if her hips had taken on a mind of their own. The Doctor kissed her again, and this time April held nothing back, letting him take her and bear her down into the sea of her own passion. She opened her mouth wide, her tongue seeking his, trying to tell him with her kiss that she needed more of his hand between her legs, his punishing whip upon her suddenly yearning breasts, and what her kiss couldn’t say she said with her greedy hips, hunching them against his thrusting hand, crushing the aching softness of her need against his hard fingers. Again the whip slapped against her breasts, and still his fingers slid against her, forcing her to respond. April was torn between the outrage and indignity of having her sweet and tender breasts slapped with the evil leather crop, and the rapturous pleasure of having her pussy stroked and played with by a hand that seemed to know her most secret needs. It was almost more than she could bear, and she twisted in her bonds, her hands opening and closing, fingers spread wide, then clenching into tight little fists of impotent excitement and humiliation. Her entire body was on fire: the orgasm she needed so desperately was there, just barely out of reach, and coming closer with each slap of the whip against her burning flesh. It was so right. She knew instinctively in some deep, unexplored part of herself that this was what she deserved, to be tied up and whipped even as her deepest sexual desires were satisfied by the obscene touch of his hand. In her female soul the pleasure and the pain, the shame and the triumph were inextricably bound up and tangled together, and she only had to glance at the feral gleam in the Doctor’s eyes to know why she was being beaten. She was too beautiful, too desirable, too sexual, and so she had to suffer. But the suffering was glorious. He began to hit her harder, so that each slap made her breasts bounce and jiggle on her chest. She groaned with shame as her body betrayed her, pressing up off the wall looking for more of this delicious punishment. He changed the target from her red and aching nipples to the soft undersides, and as he slapped her he licked and sucked the nipples he had just whipped, playing his tongue around them and nipping them softly with his teeth, setting off fireworks in her body. The effect was electric. April howled and her hips began to make the most lewd and obscene humping actions against the Doctor’s plundering hand, the soft skin of her belly clenching in spasms of raw feminine hunger. In one part of her mind she knew she was making a shameful spectacle of herself, but with the other she felt the blessed relief of her orgasm thundering down upon her like a herd of wild horses, not far now. All this tension of these last weeks and months was all coming to a head, blossoming within her, ready to burst forth, and she knew that the Doctor was right: there was a sexual animal inside of her, a shameless and wanton whore who longed for the worst and most shameful things to be done to her. She knew it now, and her shame was like an exalted thing, something that lifted her up and out of herself into a realm of pure sexual lust, brilliant and almost cleansing in its ferocity. It was the whip, the terrible indignity of being tied to the wall and beaten and loving it, the way the pain melded into the maddening pleasure of his fingers working at her cunt, driving everything else from her mind. He was demanding she let go, demanding she give in to her most obscene and salacious desires and show him the whore she was within, and she didn’t care any longer. Her dignity, her self-respect, none of that mattered any longer. “Fuck me!” The words burst out of her, and she hardly knew what she was saying in her sudden delirium. “Yes! Whip me and touch me there, Doctor! Hurt me! Make me come! Please! Make me come!” The Doctor smiled, the look of intense sexual hunger on his face giving his grin a wild and evil cast. “Show me what a slut you are,” he hissed at her as his fingers poked and probed at her through her sopping panties. “Let me see how a little whore comes from having her tits whipped and her pussy played with. Because you are that whore, April, and I want you to let her out. Give it to me. Give me all your hot come, bitch.” His words were horrible, and yet they inflamed her blood. She opened her mouth to cry out in protest, to tell him to stop, that she couldn’t take any more, but just then his fingers pushed the soaked crotch band of her panties to the side and he opened her up with his fingers, spread her pussy apart and exposed the soft and tender flesh inside to the humid air of his sexual torture chamber. His thumb slid upwards till he found the engorged bud of her clitoris and slid in greasy circles around it, pushing it this way and that while his middle finger slid into her virginal pussy, touching her just where she needed it most and easing the terrible congestion she felt there with its savage insistence. April slammed her head back against the wall, clenched her eyes shut and screamed. Her orgasm seemed to come boiling up from the very soles of her feet, shooting sparks along her legs and her body convulsed in a wracking spasm of release, her hips jerking upwards towards his punishing fingers in a savage lurching motion. She yanked hard against the chains as her belly flexed so tight with each wave of savage trembling joy that she thought she might snap her own bones like twigs. After the Lecture The Doctor shoved two fingers up inside her, stretching her cruelly, but the pain was delicious relief to her aching emptiness, and she felt her own internal muscles grabbing at him in return in their selfish orgasmic greed, trying to draw him inside into her aching emptiness. He kissed her then, eager to taste her pleasure in her breath, and she panted through her nostrils like a wild and desperate animal, her eyes rolling up sightless into her head as her body convulsed again and again in waves of furious sexual release. When at last the spasms subsided, she seemed to fall apart, all the strength leaving her limbs like sand from an hourglass, and like a marionette with the strings suddenly cut, her legs gave out and she would have fallen had not the Doctor put his strong arm around her waist and held her up, pressing her body to his as the last twitches and quakes of her mighty orgasm shot through her body. He quickly and quietly unfastened her wrists and picked her up in his arms as though she were a child. He carried her to the bed and laid her down upon it, then climbed onto the bed next to her and pulled the think blanket over them. He took the trembling girl in his arms and held her tightly as she sobbed against his shoulder with the overwhelming relief she felt. He knew that soon there would be questions, reproaches and recriminations as she fought through her shock and bewilderment to try and understand what had happened to her. But her knew too that the flood of sexual feelings he had unleashed was just a mere turning of the tap. This woman’s feelings ran deep, deeper than he had ever seen, and he almost shuddered as he realized the preciousness of the woman he now held in his rams, her tears wetting his chest. One other thought he had: In a woman of this ardent a temperament, what other depths of feeling might she be capable of? He had only toyed with her. What would happen when he unleashed his full passion upon her, his entire panoply of techniques, the fruits of his years of laborious research? He did not know. His erection throbbed painfully against her body. He closed his eyes and willed himself to be calm, buried his face in her sweet smelling hair and held her all the more tightly.