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Emily Fessenden

By: Doctor O



Emily Fessenden was constantly nervous. She fretted. She daydreamed. She had dreams that disturbed [and fascinated] her. She was sometimes very pleasant with the household staff, and other times she was unexpectedly rude. She had spells of depression, and would lock herself in her room, or sit on the small balcony overlooking the well-groomed garden, refusing to take meals. Constantly she had vague unusual sensations in her body. Dull headaches often bothered her.

Her husband of three years, Herman, was a successful and very busy businessman, operating a sawmill, small mercantile, and was part-owner in a modest hotel. He was important and powerful in the community. Herman had married Emily for 'business reasons', and because his father had strongly pressured him into taking a wife. He had never really had much interest in women or romance. Herman's true loves were commerce, and money. He was seldom in his three-story Victorian home. He breakfasted there, and came home past 8 o'clock most evenings. The home was ornate, well-appointed, and staffed by two maids and a valet-chauffer. 

Emily was a beautiful, petite woman, with pale complexion, blonde hair, and fine features. Her figure was that of a slender young teen, with slim hips and smallish breasts. She wore her hair in the style of other ladies of privilege in the 1880s, sometimes accented by tortoiseshell or ivory combs. Her jewelry, particularly her collection of cameos and pearls, was unsurpassed. Her garments were the finest in town, custom made by the finest seamstress of the most lush fabrics. She had gone to Emelda Gruber's School for Young Ladies, and had excelled in music, art, and dance.

Herman's father and Emily's parents had gone to great lengths to 'arrange' the marriage of their children. Both were upper-class families, and Herman's father and Emily's father had met while attending Business College 30 years earlier.

Herman simply did not have time for Emily. He had employees to supervise, ledgers to review, and investments to consider. They had had a lavish wedding, but Herman cancelled the honeymoon, because of a fire that had destroyed the top floor of his mercantile exchange. That had been three years ago. Emily had scarcely seen Herman since the wedding. In the beginning, she took breakfast with him in the dining room, but Herman all but ignored her, preferring to scrutinize balance sheets, or read the morning paper. He spoke but few words to Emily, gave her a peck on the cheek -- some mornings -- and dashed out the door to the carriage, where the driver awaited with Herman's hat and a cigar.

Emily was lonely. She had decorated the house -- and redecorated it. Herman was generous with the household expenses -- she had nothing to complain about in that regard. Emily shopped; she did that very well. She spent many hours in the dress shoppe, deciding on fabrics, laces, and being fitted for opulent dresses. She visited the jeweler the hat shoppe regularly. At first.

But gradually, she began to lose interest in shopping. She had more than enough dresses, shoes, hats and delicate undergarments. She had 'Fessenden House' filled the house with costly furnishings and imported rugs. She was bored. And lonely. And eventually depressed.

Emily began to have physical symptoms, also. She became nervous and easily agitated at times. Her head ached. She had very little energy. Emily sometimes slept all night, and then slept two to four hours in the day. She would feel faint when standing up quickly. At times her fingers and hands, or her feet would tingle. Her thighs felt heavy or ached at times. And her lower abdomen -- her pelvis felt heavy. And there were almost constant sensations of tingling and fine vibrations or tremors. The symptoms were driving her into despair and apathy. She stopped shopping, and remained at home most of the time. She seldom breakfasted with Herman, and often was asleep in her bedroom when he returned from work.

The maids were concerned with the debilitation of the lady of the house. Herman noticed, too -- eventually. He was frustrated by the fact that he could not entertain business associates and prospects. He could not have people to dinner, while Emily was secluded in her rooms. He could not be seen at social functions or dinner parties without his wife.

Herman summoned Dr. Gentry to the house, to examine Mrs. Fessenden. 

Dr. Gentry was a recent graduate of medical school, and Herman hoped that he would be familiar with the most recent diagnostic and treatment methods. Dr. Gentry had studied psychology. At the appointed time, Emily received Dr. Gentry in the parlor for a consultation. She recited her symptoms to him, and he meticulously took notes. At times he nodded his head with understanding, but more often he was perplexed by her symptoms. He prescribed a tonic for Emily, and told her he would call back in two weeks to evaluate her progress.

Emily took the tonic -- a tincture of valerian root and alcohol. She took it as Dr. Gentry prescribed, but it only made her more lethargic, and she slept even more hours during the day. 

Dr. Gentry returned to interview Emily, and learned that it had not helped her any of her symptoms other than headache. She still felt dizzy at times. She was nervous. And she had this heavy sensation in her thighs and pelvis. Sometimes, she said, she could not take a deep breath. She felt restless all the time, and she was having disturbing dreams practically every night. He had no idea what she may be suffering from, and thought it must be at least partially physical, and not only her 'nerves'.

Dr. Gentry informed Herman that he did not know what was wrong with Emily, and suggested that Dr. Fallow be called. Dr Gentry was daunted by Emily's symptoms, and, truth be told, was quite inexperienced in 'women's disorders'. Herman knew that Dr. Fallow had been in practice for almost 30 years, and was popular among the 'working classes of the community. Dr. Gentry felt that Emily required a complete examination, and, having very limited experience in that sort of thing, himself, urged Herman to call upon Dr. Fallow.

The Consultation

The next day, Herman did visit Dr Fallow's small office, above the bank. George Fallow appeared very much like a stereotypical doctor -- gray hair and beard, small wire-rimmed spectacles, vested with pocketed watch and gold chain, and a loosely tied cravat. Herman explained some of Emily's perplexing symptoms to the fifty-something doctor and that Dr. Gentry had been perplexed by her case. Dr Fallow listened carefully, asked a few questions of Herman, and agreed to consult with and examine Emily the following afternoon. 

Thursday morning, Emily stayed in bed until 11. Lucy, one of the maids, told Emily that Mr. Fessenden had arranged that Dr Fallow would be coming to interview her about her poor health. "Not another doctor" she groaned. Lucy spoke up and said that she had some friends who had been helped by Dr Fallow, and encouraged Emily. She refused the breakfast that Lucy offered her, and reluctantly [and slowly] bathed, brushed her hair, and put on a satin dressing gown. 

At 1 o'clock, Dr Fallow appeared at the Fessenden home, carrying his well-worn leather medical bag. He was escorted into the parlor, where a debilitated Emily awaited in an upholstered Eastlake style chair.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Fessenden," Dr Fallow said pleasantly, faintly bowing his head. "I'm Dr Fallow -- but please call me George, if you like."

He strode confidently toward Emily, and took her small hand, which she had politely extended to him.

Smiling politely at the handsome older gentleman, Emily said, "Please have a seat. Which do you prefer? Dr Fallow, or George?"

"George will do just fine, Mrs. Fessenden," he replied as he sat his leather doctor's bag on the floor next to his chair.

"Then please call me Emily, George. I understand that you have come to hear about my ailments?"

"Yes, we'll talk a while, then if time permits, I'd like to examine you Emily."

A blush colored Emily's cheeks. Examine her? Lucy had not mentioned an examination. An examination, she wondered, what sort of examination?

"First I'd like you to tell me about your condition. Every so often I will interrupt you, asking you to clarify or give specifics. I assure you that whatever you tell me will be held in the strictest confidence. In fact, I will not disclose details to your husband -- only the generalities of my evaluation."

Emily was curious, but she began to recite her symptoms to the kindly-looking doctor.

"I am nervous, doctor...George. I often feel very anxious and jittery. Restless is a good word. Sometimes it is only in my mind, but other times I feel faint tingles or vibrations or something like tremors in my body."

"How often do you feel this way?"

"Constantly," she sighed. "All the time," she emphasized.

"I see," the doctor said, reaching into his pocket for pencil and small notepad, and beginning to write. "And the physical symptoms -- the tingling and the sensations of vibrations -- where do you feel them?"

Emily lowered her eyes momentarily, then raised them to meet the doctor's inquisitive gaze. 

"Especially in my thighs," she said, feeling a little anxious, but assuring herself that George was a doctor.

"In your thighs," George repeated as he wrote. "Anywhere else?"

Emily hesitated for a few seconds. "And above."

"Above?"

Again Emily downcast her eyes, and felt a blush warm her face. "Yes, above. Umm...above...where the thighs meet."

George Fallow nodded, and made a note.

"You're certain that this is confidential?" Emily nervously pleaded.

"Yes, absolutely, Emily. Whatever details you tell me will be nothing more than part of your medical records -- no one but I will be privy to them. Rest assured."

She relaxed somewhat, but still felt anxious, but decided she could trust the doctor.

"Please tell me more -- you feel these sensations in your thighs and...above your thighs. They are like tingles and vibrations. What else can you tell me about how you feel in those areas."

Emily felt her complexion flush again. She crossed then uncrossed her legs, nervously. "Would you care for a little refreshment George? Lemonade or sherry?"

"Do you have port?" George asked.

"I'm sure we do," Emily answered, as she rung the small bell on the table beside her, signaling Lucy. 

"Lucy, please bring Dr Fallows and I some port." Lucy looked a bit surprised, but went to the basement to find a bottle of port. Quickly she returned, with the bottle and two small glasses on a silver tray. She poured a glass for each of them, and then left the room, more than a little curious that Mrs. Fessenden has asked for the wine.

Emily nearly emptied her glass of port without lowering it from her lips. George took a polite sip. 

"Go on," George urged. "Tell me about the sensations that you have above your thighs."

Emily had not eaten that morning, and the port and her embarrassment began to warm her.

"In my...female area...is where I feel the strongest sensations. That is where I notice them most -- like a fine vibration or tingling sensation -- sometimes even almost aching."

George made a notation. 

"The pudenda," Emily continued. That is the medical word, isn't it, George?" 

"Yes, it is one of the medical terms for that area, Emily."

"I learned that in finishing school. Pudenda. A Latin word, yes?"

"Yes, Emily, I believe it is from the Latin."

"We girls called it le chat when I was in the finishing school."

It was George's turn to faintly blush. Le chat. He knew it as the French equivalent of 'pussy'. 

Clearing his throat, he asked Emily, "Do you feel these sensations on the outside or the inside of your pudenda?"

"Both," she replied, as she finished the glass of port, and poured herself another. I feel the sensations there all the time. Sometimes they are mild and I hardly notice them; other times they crescendo and I feel very distracted by them."

Taking another sip of port, George asked, "And does anything give you relief of those sensations?"

"Dreams," Emily replied.

"Dreams? Can you explain?"

Emily was feeling very warm at this point, and slightly parted the neckline of her dressing gown, and brushed a tendril of hair away from her temple.

"Sometimes, doctor...I mean George...sometimes I have noticed that after I have had very vivid dreams, I am peculiarly restless in the night, turning this way and that, and I find that I have rolled onto my tummy and...it seems that I push my hips into the mattress. I have noticed in the morning after that that the sensations are temporarily less -- sometimes even gone for the better part of a day."

"What sort of dreams? Can you remember for me?"

"In the dreams, I often imagine that I am undressing, and taking a bath in a lovely pond. I enjoy being unclothed, and feel the sensations of the breeze and the cool water on my bare skin."

"And?"

"And, often in that type of dream, I am not alone." Emily finished the second glass of port, and opened her gown a little further, more fully exposing the soft white flesh of her upper chest. "Sometimes I dream that I am accompanied from some of the girls in my finishing school. They have undressed too, and we frolic in the pond. Splashing one another. Giggling. Pushing one another under the water. Comparing ourselves with each other."

George shifted his position in the chair, and took a large drink of port this time, quickly making notes. 

"And other times," Emily continued, "there are men in the dream. They are hidden behind trees or shrubs, watching us secretly." 

"I see," nodded the doctor.

"And it is the strangest thing, George. I know I toss about in my bed, and find myself lying on my belly in the morning, sometimes with my nightgown above my waist. And what is most strange is that I have noticed a damp spot on my sheets some mornings after I have that sort of dream. I haven't any idea what that is -- but I notice that those mornings I have very little or none of those sensations."

George made a note, then asked, "Do you have any discomfort when you and Mr. Fessenden have intimacy?"

"Intimacy?"

"Yes, you know...when you and your husband have marital intimacy."

Emily poured a third glass of port, and stared into the distance. "Mr. Fessenden and I have not been physically intimate, George."

"Never?" he asked, having difficulty hiding his incredulity.

"Never," Emily replied. "I expected that we would have on our honeymoon, but Herman cancelled it because of a fire in one of his businesses. It seems he thinks of nothing except business, and...well, we have not ever been physically intimate. Of course I had expected we would. My mother told me a little of what to expect. And we girls in school had whispered after curfew about what happens when a man and woman marry, so I did have some idea. And in Miss Bell's class, we did see a few drawings of men's anatomy. But nothing has ever happened between Herman and me along that line."

Dr Fallow sat aside his pencil and notepad, looked into Emily's eyes for a few moments, and then said, "I think I understand. Let me describe some of the other symptoms that you might be having. You let me know whether I am right or wrong. Sometimes you feel palpitations -- fluttering in your chest. And you sleep more than most people -- probably having to take long naps during the day. You feel a sense of heaviness in your lower abdomen -- your belly. You sometimes feel unusual sensations in your fingers or face, or sometimes your breasts. And you get nagging headaches. And your energy level seems low, and at times you feel faint or dizzy. Am I right?"

"My husband must have told you those things! Didn't he?"

"No, Emily, he did not. He merely said that you were very nervous, and had lost interest in things that previously had entertained you, and that he is very concerned about you."

"Then how do you know that I have all those feelings?"

"After listening to what you have told me thus far, I was suspicious of a particular condition called neurasthenia."

"Neurasthenia? Is it awful? Will I die? Can it be cured?"

"Neurasthenia is a complex set of symptoms, Emily. And there are various causes of neurasthenia, and different types. But the symptoms you told me, as well as the ones I recited to you are the most common. Neurasthenia occurs mainly in women, but once in a while it afflicts men, also. It is often puzzling, and challenging to treat. I have read some doctors' writings on the subject, and have seen several patients with neurasthenia, myself. It seems to happen mainly in upper class women. Some cases relate to stress. Others relate to chlorosis -- when the blood is too thin -- some doctors call it anemia. Sometimes it seems related to congestion of the lymph -- a fluid that flows through the body, something like blood. Some call these symptoms 'depression' which seems to be a weakness of the nerves and will. And there are other causes, peculiar to women, called hysterical neurasthenia."

"Can you help me George?"

"I don't know yet. I'll need to examine you first." He paused briefly, then continued. "When was the last time you had a complete examination, Emily?"

"Never. At least I don't think so. You mean examine me all over, George?"

"Exactly Emily. Everything. Top to bottom; outside and inside. That way I'll find out for sure if it is neurasthenia, and what type."

Emily's eyes opened wide as he spoke. She definitely wanted to find out what was keeping her feeling the way she did. And she trusted George -- his voice was reassuring, and his demeanor was confident. The thought of him examining her everywhere made her feel jittery -- and there was a pleasant quality to the jitters.

"And that's what you need to do, George? Examine me all over? Top to bottom..?"

"Top to bottom," he nodded. "I'll begin with your head, and work my way down."

"Down to where?" Emily squirmed almost imperceptibly in her chair.

"Down to you pudendum, Emily. Based upon what you've told me, I strongly suspect I'll find that much or most of your problems are there."

"Outside and inside?" Emily asked timidly, feeling her face burn with blushes, and noticing her heart race.

"Yes, Emily, inside too. I suspect there may be a problem inside your pelvis. Possibly with your womb."

She responded, "Where shall we do this examination, doctor?" 

"Have you a fainting couch, Emily? In a well-lit room?"

"Yes, there is one in my study."

"Excellent. What I'd like you to do, Emily, is completely disrobe, then put on your dressing gown, only. I'll give you a few minutes to prepare, then you can have your maid come fetch me to your study."

Emily rang the bell for Lucy once again. She appeared within a moment. "Yes ma'am?"

"Lucy, I want you to bring Dr. Fallow to my study in five minutes."

"Yes ma'am," Lucy nodded.

Emily Fessenden Ch. 02



The Examination

Emily excused herself, and went quickly up the stairs, wondering with excitement about her examination. She had never been examined before. Not really. What would it be like? Would she be horribly embarrassed? Would it hurt? Exactly what would the doctor do?

She entered her small study, closing the door behind her. Two windows lavishly draped in silk overlooked the garden. There was a small writing table with an office chair on small wheels, two upholstered chairs, the fainting couch, marble-topped tables, and walls lined with shelves holding Emily's books. The afternoon sun lit the room well. Emily wondered whether she should draw the drapes closed – but decided against it. The room was on the second floor, after all, and the doctor said he would required adequate light to examine her. 

She untied her satin dressing gown, took it off, and laid it over a chair back. Then her corset, next her chemise, then her knee-length lace-trimmed drawers. Finally, Emily stood nude in the center of her study. She glanced at a vertical gilt mirror between the two chairs. Her breasts were small, but not too small. Her belly was almost flat. Her blonde pubic hair was scant – the same as it had been when she was still a teenaged girl. She wondered what Dr. Fallows – George – would be thinking while he examined her.

She reached for her dressing gown, and slipped it back on – enfolding it only loosely together in the front, then very loosely tying the sash. She opened the door, then crossed the room again and sat on the fainting couch, waiting for George.

In only seconds, there was a soft tapping at the door. "Come in", Emily said, a hint of nervousness in her voice. The door opened, and in stepped her maid Lucy. "Are you ready for the doctor, Mrs. Fessenden?" 

"Yes, and I don't mind saying that I'm a little nervous about it Lucy", Emily said, pulling her gown a little closer together in the front.

"Dr. Fallow is highly recommended, Miss Emily. I have heard from a number of women that he has helped them considerably. My friend, Annie, who works for Mrs. Brooks, said that Dr. Fallow's treatments help her mistress immeasurably."

"Treatments?"

"Yes, Mrs. Fessenden. Dr. Fallows discovered that Mrs. Brooks has a problem with her womb, and he treats her in some way. Annie said that the treatments make all the difference for Mrs. Brooks. Annie says she improved from the very first treatment, and that she seems to derive great benefit from them. He treats her once or twice per week, I think. And I have heard that he has helped various other women, too. There are a number of women in town who simply insist that they could not manage without Dr. Fallow. I do not know what sort of treatments they are, but whatever he does, there are women who testify that he has changed their lives considerably for the better."

Just then, there was another light tapping on the door of Emily's study. It was George Fallow.

"Are you ready Mrs. Fessenden? May I come in?"

"Show the doctor in, Lucy, and close the door on your way out, please."

Lucy admitted Dr. Fallow to Emily's study, glanced reassuringly at her mistress, then left the room. 

The doctor had a comforting smile, and asked, "Are you ready for your examination now Emily?"

"Yes, I think so", she replied, more than a hint of nervousness in her voice. "I've never had an examination before you know…what do you want me to do?"

"Just lie back, and relax. Put your legs up on the couch and stretch out. It is lower than the examination table in my office, but it will do. I'll simply sit during most of your examination instead of standing, as I normally would." Dr Fallows moved he chair from Emily's desk near the fainting couch, and sat down beside her. "Let me explain what I'm going to do before I proceed, and you ask me any questions that come to your mind." He laid his hand atop Emily's, and looked her kindly in the face.

"First I'm going to look into your eyes – look at your pupils. Then I'll check for any unusual swelling in places that are called ‘lymph nodes'. I'll feel carefully along your neck and throat, under your arms, and groin, and behind your knees to find if there is any congestion of lymph in any of those places. I have a stethoscope in my bag, which I will use to listen to your heart and your lungs. It won't hurt, Emily, I assure you. Doctors have been using stethoscopes for more than 50 years now. When I do, I'll open your dressing gown a little. After I've listened to your heart, I'll examine your breasts – and your gown will be more open then, of course."

Emily's pupils dilated, and she swallowed, as she noticed her heart beating a little harder while the doctor described the forthcoming examination.

"After your breasts, I will examine your abdomen – your belly. I'll press here and there, checking for anything abnormal regarding your organs. Finally I will examine your pelvis. I'll start on the outside, pressing on your lower abdomen just about the pubic area. Then I'll examine your genitals, and finally I will check your womb. Do you have any questions Emily?"

Her voice quavered a little as she asked, "How will you be checking my womb, George?" Her whole body felt tingly and faintly trembly now. Had she been standing she may have felt a little faint.

He gave her the calm reassuring smile that she had begun to trust. "I'll carefully examine your outer pubic area, then I will gently insert a finger or two inside you, and feel the muscles inside your pelvis, and determine whether your womb is in a normal position, or it if is tilted in some abnormal way. Depending upon what I find there, I might have a look inside with an instrument called a speculum. It might be embarrassing, and hopefully will not hurt – or at least not hurt much – but it is necessary in order for me to fully evaluate your condition, Emily." He squeezed her hand, transferring confidence and caring with his touch. She felt the familiar tingling sensations in her thighs and pelvis growing stronger; she felt warm all over, and sensed she was blushing. George noticed her blush.

Moving the chair closer to the fainting couch, the doctor's knees were pressed firmly against the upholstery, trapping some of the satin fabric of Emily's gown. He found the magnifying glass in his bag, and brought it out to examine her eyes. [Dr Fallow did not yet have one of the new ophthalmoscopes, like some specialists in large cities did.] "Turn your head a little toward me, Emily." She did, and he focused the magnifying lens so he could see her eyes well. Her pupils were a little larger than usual, but were the same size, and reacted normally. Her irises were a lovely shade of green, bright with youth, and he uncharacteristically told her so. She blinked, and thanked him for the compliment.

Setting the glass aside, he asked her to turn her head back to the center, and began to feel her neck for any swollen lymph glands. Her skin was very soft and clear. His warm fingers felt warm and comforting to her. He gently explored the back of her neck, then along each side of her throat. Reflexively, Emily slightly arched her neck as his fingers moved slowly and methodically, though at the same time, sensually, over the front of her neck. 

After George was satisfied that there were no indications of congestion of lymph in her neck, he pushed back the sides of her dressing gown, exposing her collarbones and upper shoulders, tracing the upper collarbones, again feeling for any swelling of lymph nodes. None. He noticed the smoothness of her supple, ivory skin, and the curves of her shoulders, and the swells of her upper breasts, partly exposed.

George spread apart the lapels of Emily's dressing gown, partially exposing her breasts, and slid his warm hand between the silky fabric and her left breast, reaching toward her left underarm area, still checking for any lymphatic congestion. As he did, his flattened palm brushed against her puckering left nipple. Emily felt a surge of delicious sensation. George noted the evidence of Emily's arousal, as he reached his fingers into her warm left armpit, thoroughly checking for any lymph nodes. Satisfied that there were none, he withdrew his hand, this time deliberately and slowly brushing against her increasingly erect left nipple. Though he had been a doctor for many years, he was not beyond noticing a beautiful woman, and he wondered about the appearance of her nipple…would I be as lovely as the rest of her? 

The doctor and the patient each felt stirred by the preliminaries of the examination, and hoped the other would not notice.

"So far, no lymphatic congestion Emily. Now let me check in your right underarm." As he said this, George pulled at the right lapel of her dressing gown, tugging it toward her shoulder. Half of Emily's right breast was exposed, showing part of her pale rosy aureola, then the fabric resisted. At that point, Emily closed her eyes. George realized that his knee had trapped some of the fabric of her gown when he had moved near the couch. He readjusted his position, and pulled the gown toward her shoulder, totally exposing her right breast. The aureola was slightly raised like a little mound above the rest of her breast, and the nipple was obviously erect.

Emily had not ever exposed her breast to a man before. In recent years, only Lucy had seen her nude, while bathing, or getting dressed. This was different – very different. She could feel her heart pounding. She hoped that somehow, if she kept her eyes shut, George might not notice. She could feel both her nipples tighten, and the right one seemed to be pushing itself toward George. 

George gazed as the taught nipple and slightly puffy aureola closed his eyes briefly in an effort to cancel out his thoughts, and then slid his left hand up along the side of her breast, toward her armpit. As he felt with experienced fingers for any swollen lymph nodes, his gaze alternated between Emily's face, her right breast, and the manicured garden he could see through her window. "No problem here, either, Emily", the doctor said, as he re-covered her bare breast discretely. "There are two other areas in which I need to check for lymphatic congestion." He rolled the desk chair toward her lower body as he spoke. One is behind your knees, and the other in your groin.

"Bend your knees just slightly, Emily", George requested, as he found the opening in her long dressing gown, and slid his hand under the back of her right leg, moving it behind her knee. So soft, he thought. And as he glanced at the part of her legs that were now exposed, he noticed that there were only very faint blonde hairs on Emily's legs. It tickled Emily when George felt behind her knee, and she giggled and slightly flinched. George quickly felt behind her left knee for any swollen popliteal lymph nodes. Then the right. Nothing abnormal was evident beneath her silken smooth skin; his trained fingers noticed only the sensual curve of the backs of her knees.

"Now let's check for swollen nodes in your groin", George said, his voice a little deeper than it had been only minutes earlier. "Go ahead and straighten your legs again, Emily", George instructed, "and unfasten the sash of your dressing gown, so I can see your pudendum". Emily's fingers trembled as she undid the loose knot in the sash. She closed her eyes once again, as if to hide from her own feelings. As she let the sides of her satin gown slink away under the tug of gravity, she could hear her heart pounding in her head.

As George looked at her pubic mound, he had mixed thoughts. The hair was very blonde, in short curls, and barely covered her entire mons. The appearance of her breasts and pubic area were more typical of a teenager than the doctor expected. "How old are you Emily?" 

"Twenty four", she replied, opening her eyes. "I thought you knew. Why do you ask at this particular time, George?" George felt himself blushing now, and Emily noticed. "Well, Emily," he said swallowing, by your speech and mannerisms I had guessed you to be in your late twenties…but…the development of your body is typical of a woman younger than your years."

Emily's curiosity was piqued. In that instant, she wondered why she found it pleasant to be exposed to George's gaze. And she was curious what he meant about her body seeming younger to him than her actual age. "What about my body seems younger, George?" She moved her left hand across her lower abdomen, toward the pubic area that the doctor continued to stare at for another few seconds.

He rested his hand on her upper thigh, looked her in the eyes, and began to answer her curiosity. "Well, Emily, your breasts…the pinkish area around the nipples still is a little elevated above the rest of the breast. That has usually changed by your age. And your…pubic hairs…they don't extend out onto your thighs at all. I would expect that in a young woman in her middle or even late teens, but not at your age."

Emily moved her hand lower, so her fingertips were brushing along the top of her pubic hairline. As she did, she watched George's gaze follow her fingers closely. "Does that mean I have something wrong George?"

"Oh, no, Emily. It was just a nice surprise – I mean – it was unexpected." He felt intense flushing of his face, embarrassed at having said what he did. He tried to recover. "It is not a problem at all – only not common, and probably means you are going to live a long life." He smiled nervously at his faux pas. What was happening here? He had, through the course of his many years of practice, examined many women, and had long, long ago ceased to notice their femininity. Why was he finding Emily's body so attractive?

George regained full composure, and began pressing the right side of Emily's groin, checking for any lymphatic congestion. Then the inside of her right thigh. Emily was now studying George's face intently. He had blushed – it was unmistakable – and he seemed to be looking very intently at her – and she liked it. Her fingers by this time were playing nonchalantly in the wispy curls at the uppermost part of her pubic area. George looked into her face, then gently moved her hand a little higher onto her abdomen, so he could palpate the left side of her groin. He did so, again finding nothing at all unusual. Then he found the sides of her satin robe, and pulled them together, covering her pelvis completely once again.

"No lymphatic congestion anywhere, Emily. So we have ruled that out."

"What comes next George?" Emily asked with interest.

Reaching into his medical bag, George withdrew his stethoscope. "Now I'll listen to your heart", he said, as he prepared to position the tips in his ears. "Once in a while you have noticed fluttering in your chest, correct?" Emily nodded in confirmation.

George put the stethoscope in his ears, and then spread the lapels of Emily's satin dressing gown apart, so he could listen to her heart. He spread them wide – wider than he would usually when examining a woman – so that her breasts were both completely exposed. As George placed the stethoscope bell on her chest, he listened carefully to her heart sounds…while he admired Emily's breasts. Emily's heart was pounding hard, and beating rapidly. Was it because she was anemic? Or was she nervous about having the examination? Or could it be she a little aroused, as her tightly erect nipples suggested? He moved the stethoscope from point to point, listening to each valve in turn, noticing only a slight dysfunction in the mitral valve area.

Taking the stethoscope from his ears, he asked, "Are you a little nervous Emily?"

"A little, yes" she smiled as she answered. "Is my heart normal?"

"Yes, it is very close to normal. It is beating rapidly. And there is just a little abnormality of one of the valves, but I would expect that in your overall condition. Nothing serious at all."

"I can tell it's beating rapidly, George" She blushed, and then smiled at him. "It's been beating faster ever since you began my examination."

The doctor set the stethoscope aside. "Now I'll examine your breasts, Emily." He gently placed one hand, then the other, on her right breast, feeling carefully as he pressed with the pads of his fingers. He began methodically at the outer margins of the breast, making ever-smaller circles, as he worked his way slowly toward her aureola. He watched her face for any signs of discomfort. Her breast was youthful, soft, and without any sort of abnormalities. It felt pleasant to him. He pressed along Emily's slightly raised aureola, taking longer than he would usually take to examine a woman. Her aureola had wrinkled with arousal, and her nipple was stiff and full. Emily felt very agreeable sensations as George's hands moved across her flesh. George finally took her taut nipple between his thumb and middle finger, and lightly squeezed it. Emily gasped. George stopped pressing, but still held her nipple, "Does that hurt Emily?" "No, George," she responded. "But I heard you gasp, did I not?" he asked. "Yes, a little," was Emily's reply. "But not because it hurt, George. It…it feels very pleasant", she said shyly. George smiled, pleased with her response, and lightly rolled her nipple between his fingers. Emily gasped slightly again as George pulled her nipple, tugging it toward him, holding it more firmly. 

"Where does it feel pleasant, Emily?" He continued to roll and pull her nipple, knowing this was not customary to do during an examination…but feeling compelled to continue fondling her nipple.

Emily's voice trembled slightly, and her words came slowly. "It feels…very pleasant…right there where your fingers are, George. And…" Emily blushed once again.

"And?" George queried.

"And," Emily continued shyly, "in my pelvic area also."

Feigning curiosity, George continued to tease her right nipple. "And how does it feel in your pelvic area right now?"

"It feels very warm and tingly. And it feels as though I am getting very wet down there, George."

"That's what I suspected" George said in his very doctorish tone of voice.

He finally released Emily's right nipple, after giving it one final stretching pull.

Because he was seated, George moved the chair closer to the fainting couch once again, so he could reach Emily's left breast more easily. He spread his knees apart, pressing them firmly against the furniture, and leaned forward to begin inspecting her left breast. As had had done on the right, he slowly and meticulously examined Emily's left breast, beginning at the periphery, and slowly moving toward the nipple. He alternated his gaze between her face and her breast, and could see the evident arousal in both. Gently and thoroughly he felt every part of her breast, watching her nipple grow more rigid, and her lips become deeper in color and fuller in involuntary response to his stimulation. 

When his fingers came to her left aureola, he traced it in a circular fashion. "Look here, Emily. Remember that I told you that your body is more like a very young woman's than I expected? Can you notice that this pinkish part is raised above the rest of the breast?"

Emily looked down for the first time as he examined her, and noticed what George was pointing out….and felt herself shudder as he continued to circle her aureola with one finger. "Yes, I can see that" she said very softly. "And that's not a problem is it doctor?" she asked. "No, Emily…I mean…it is only unexpected…and some people will find it very lovely, Emily." 

"What do you mean, George?" 

He stopped circling her aureola, and rested his hand over her breast, covering it with his palm but not squeezing it. It felt very comforting and pleasant to her.

"I mean, Emily, that…some people find breasts shaped like yours to be exceptionally attractive…appealing…desirable."

Emily wondered. 




Emily Fessenden Ch. 02



George changed the position of his hand, and took her left nipple between thumb and finger, and rolled it, squeezing and pulling it gently. He seemed lost in his thoughts as he did so. He watched the bud of rose-colored flesh darken to a deeper shade of rose. He relished the rubbery feel of her nipple between his fingers. His own pupils had dilated as he watched his fingers ply her nipple.

"What about you, George?"

"What about me? In what regard, Emily?" 

"Do you find my breasts attractive George?" she asked shyly, hoping for an affirmative answer.

The question had the effect of reminding George he was a doctor. He released her nipple, and returned his hands to his lap. Clearing his throat, he said, "I didn't mean to imply that I was admiring your breasts, Mrs. Fessenden. I simply meant that there are people who would find them especially attractive."

Emily was a little disappointed at his comment. But she persisted.

"People? What do you mean George?"

He tried to distract himself by withdrawing his tablet and pencil, and making some notes of her examination this far.

"Yes, people, Emily. Just people."

"Do you mean ‘men', George?" Emily was surprisingly comfortable having both her breasts fully exposed to George, and made no movement to recover them with her gown.

The doctor shifted into his clinical, matter-of-fact persona. He ignored what was a rather obvious reaction in his own body to the examination and discussion.

"Yes, ‘men'. And women as well. The human body is quite variable, Emily. Just as people have differently shaped noses, ears, hands, and whatnot, so it is with every part of the body. In some ways, the body is like art, or flowers, or music – in that people have different preferences – different tastes. Some prefer daisies, whilst others are enamored of roses or orchids. Some like Rembrandt's paintings, while others admire these modern painters called Impressionists. Some like the color blue, and others prefer red. So it is with a woman's body, Emily. Some think large breasts and a voluptuous figure are most appealing, while others prefer smaller breasts and a more petite form. Some like one shape of breast, and others like another. I feel I ought not to have said anything to you, but I did, and so I am compelled to explain myself. There are people who would find your breasts exceptionally attractive and beautiful, Emily." He began to scrawl a few notes once again.

"Men and women both, George?"

"Yes, men and women both, Emily." He continued to scribble.

"And what about you, George? Do you find my breasts pretty?" She almost imperceptibly arched her back, making her uncovered breasts more prominent. 

"Mrs. Fessenden, it is best that we maintain a professional relationship." George seemed to write more fervently.

"But Dr. Fallow, I have asked you a question. Are you going to disrespect me by not answering? You are in my husband's employ, are you not?"

He stopped his writing, and looked into Emily's face. He sighed, looked at her breasts, then answered, "Yes, Emily, I think your breasts are very lovely. Gorgeous, in fact."

She smiled. 

"And you think that the way they are shaped is pretty?"

"Yes, Emily, very pretty indeed. Beautiful, in fact. But, Emily, I have been retained to be your doctor, and I ought not have such thoughts, or make such personal remarks, and I think you ought not ask me such questions."

Her heart swelled at his comments. Her body felt alive. She felt unashamed to have him looking at her breasts, and examining them. And to have had him see her uncovered pudendum. It was exhilarating. She realized that she had no headache, no dizziness – no  unpleasant symptoms anywhere in her body for the first time in years. She felt at peace. Completed. Emily did not understand the calmness, but she recognized that it was real.

"Now I'll examine your abdomen, Emily. I'll be feeling for any abnormalities in your organs. You can close the top of your dressing gown now…if you like."

"Oh, I forgot I was exposed," Emily replied. "It feels very…natural this way. Will you think ill of me if I remain just as I am?"

"No, Emily, of course not." George smiled slightly. "I'm quite pleased that you feel comfortable with me. And I remind you, Emily," George softly continued, "that all our conversations, your examination, and any treatments I may offer you are completely confidential. No one but us will know what happens between the doctor and patient."

She smiled. She trusted George. She felt secure with him. He talked with her as a friend, and it seemed very natural. It was a new experience for her, and she liked it very much.

George pulled opened the middle portion of her gown so he could examine her abdomen. Because her chest was already exposed, the satin gown fell completely away now, and her entire body was open to his view. She truly was lovely. And not only her physical form – George felt a kindred connection with this young woman. She was an ingénue who trusted him. And he trusted Emily. He recognized in himself feelings and thoughts that he did not normally have as a doctor – was not supposed to have. Yet there they were, and he felt he could depend on Emily to keep his secrets as well. They would be mutual confidants.

George began to palpate her flat abdomen, feeling with experienced fingers for the outline of her liver beneath the right side of her ribcage. It was barely perceptible, even to his expert fingers. It was smooth and normal. He next felt the midline of her belly, between the breastbone and navel. Just a little tension there, but nothing abnormal; it was from anxiety, he was confident. Moving his hands to the left, he checked under her ribs, and could not feel her spleen, which was normal. Her kidneys and flanks seemed normal, also. He pressed gently but firmly throughout her abdomen, noting nothing abnormal at all.

George paused to write a few notes, occasionally glancing at Emily, admiring the full length of her. She watched him fondly, feeling unusually comfortable being almost totally nude in his presence.

A tapping was heard at the door. "Mrs. Fessenden?" Lucy asked. "Yes Lucy?" Emily replied, as she gathered her dressing gown together to completely cover herself. "You may enter."

"Pardon me, but a messenger came from Dr. Fallow's office – he is needed." Lucy noticed that her mistress appeared to be quite relaxed on the fainting sofa as the doctor as jotting on his tablet.

"Thank you, Lucy", Emily said, dismissing her. "Dr. Fallow will be down in just a minute." Lucy left, closing the room to the study behind her.

George looked affectionately at Emily, and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry, Emily, but I must go. We'll have to postpone the remainder of your examination to another day." He helped Emily to the seated position. "When will that be?" Emil wondered.

George withdrew a small book from his jacket pocket. "Let me look at my appointments Emily." He leafed through a few pages. "I can see you in my office tomorrow afternoon at 2; will that suit you?"

"Oh," Emily replied, not hiding her disappointment, "couldn't you come here again George? I think I would feel more free and relaxed if you came back here. Would you mind?"

"Of course I can come back here, Emily. But it would need to be Friday afternoon, around 3 o'clock, after I have finished my clinicals for the day. Will that be suitable?"

"Oh yes," Emily readily agreed. That will be perfect."

"Are you sure it won't interfere with plans you may have with Mr. Fessenden?"

"No. He almost never returns home before 8 pm. Will you have time for refreshments before you proceed to examine me George? I can have Lucy prepare something."

"Well…" George thought. "Yes, I needn't be in any rush. I should be finished with my practice for the week, and unless there is an emergency, I can spend some extra time with you."

"Wonderful", Emily almost giggled.

George placed his notepad and stethoscope into his medical bag, fastened it, and stood to leave. "Goodbye Emily. It has been a rare pleasure to meet you. I'll be looking forward to our Friday afternoon appointment." 

"The time won't pass quickly enough, George," Emily smiled broadly. It was the first time George had seen her smiling fully; she was truly a beautiful woman.



Emily Fessenden Ch. 03



Dr. Fallow walked down the stairs after his preliminary examination of Mrs. Fessenden. When he reached the bottom the maid held his hat for him. George realized as he put his hat on that he had been whistling a tune. He wondered what sort of case awaited him back in his office -- what was critical enough to call him to return from the house-call on Mrs. Fessenden. More than that, though, he wondered about his next visit to continue with Emily Fessenden's examination. She seemed so genuine. As a busy doctor, he had not really made friends in the community. He had always felt it was difficult, or possibly even inappropriate to be a personal friend of one's patients.

He had led a very lonely life. After only 5 years of marriage, his wife had died miserably of consumption. He endured the intense frustration of not being able to save her. He had even felt embarrassed that he, the well-respected doctor, couldn't reverse his own wife's failing health. George had deeply mourned her passing, and threw himself all the more into his clinic, to keep his mind occupied. After the mourning subsided, George suppressed his personal needs. Dr. Fallow had devoted almost all his time to the practice of medicine, and reading medical texts and journals. 

There were times, though, when the man within him struggled to the surface. His inner masculinity demanded to be expressed. Through the years, George had acquired a modest collection of erotic lithographs and prints. Rowlandson was a favorite erotic artist. And Caracci. They portrayed human sexuality very frankly. Copulation, and sucking, and fingering, and other forms of sexual acts. Leaving nothing to the imagination. They drew images of a wide variety of sexual relations between men and women. And between women and women. George had managed to obtain all the copies of The Pearl: A Magazine of Facetiae and Voluptuous Reading. A colleague in London had mailed each issue to George, beginning with the first number in 1879. It was exceptionally erotic, and he seriously fancied some of the serial stories, while merely skimming through those that did not appeal to his tastes. The public considered these things scandalous, shocking, and deviant. Profane and pornographic, they said they were. But George, eventually, understood human sexuality, and acknowledged his own erotic desires. Contrary to the general Victorian attitudes, including the views of the medical establishment of which he was part, George believed that sexuality is a normal part of a healthy life. Not perverse or wicked. Not intended only for procreation. And he most adamantly disagreed with the fanatics who claimed that masturbation was the cause of all manner of physical and mental illness. What tripe! The 'learned' churchmen intended to suppress this most natural part of life. What fools they were!

The whole medical profession seemed to be involved in the anti-sexuality lunacy! Most of his colleagues were convinced that masturbation -- self abuse as they called it -- led to everything from acne to complete madness. Poppycock! 

George had studied this condition known as 'neurasthenia' with interest. There were many symptoms, and various causes. But it was obvious to him that, in some instances, it was caused by the lack of sexual release -- just the opposite of what many 'learned professors' were claiming. People needed the release of sex; he was convinced of it. The most learned scholars and physicians of ancient centuries, including Hippocrates and Galen, had written of the ill effects of sexual deprivation on one's physical and mental health. They had recognized the importance of sexual expression and release on they body and the mind. In fact, they had recommended intercourse and masturbation as therapies. They had proven their necessity and effectiveness in treating the very symptoms that were now being labeled 'neurasthenia'.

As he neared his office, George wondered. Might it be that Emily would become a friend with whom he could discuss such matters? There was no one, really, with whom he could talk about these things. He feared he would become an outcast and have his reputation ruined if he talked with the townsfolk. Surely he would be scorned and shunned if he mentioned these things to any of his medical colleagues. He had carefully kept the erotic prints and reading material locked in a small wooden chest, so that his cleaning woman would not discover them. It would ruin him, he felt certain, if people knew he held such thoughts, and that he viewed such images and literature. What made him even imagine that Emily might be different? What made him think that she might be someone with whom he could freely discuss his ideas? Was he being ridiculously foolish? Was he making too much of her curiosity? She had been uniquely comfortable with being unclothed in his presence. Was he interpreting that to be more than it really was? Would his own desires overshadow his good sense? He wondered.

The next afternoon, Herman Fessenden stopped by Dr. Fallow's office. He wanted to know what the doctor had discovered about Emily. 

"Your wife's case is very interesting, Mr. Fessenden. I spent a great deal of time consulting with her about her symptoms. And I began my examination of her. I am scheduled to consult with her further on Friday afternoon, and continue my examination." 

"You were there nearly two hours, doctor. Can you tell me nothing of her condition other than that it is 'interesting'?"

"Mr. Fessenden, Emily's -- Mrs. Fessenden's case is complex. She has many symptoms. In cases like this it takes considerable time to determine exactly what the cause or causes are. It cannot be rushed. You do want the best possible outcome for your wife, do you not?"

Taking a breath, Herman replied. "Yes, of course. Forgive my haste. I definitely want the best possible care for Emily, regardless of the cost involved. Your reputation as an excellent physician is well known among my employees. Please take whatever time is necessary to evaluate my wife, and, if it is possible, to remedy her situation." He lowered his gaze. "I have not been a husband to her in every sense of the word, however I do want her to be comfortable. And I want her to be able to entertain my business associates. I am involved in many financial endeavors, and would hope she would be able to receive my colleagues and their wives on occasion, instead of being in her room, or retiring early each day."

"I understand, Herman. You want Emily to be available to help you entertain clients and prospects. You want her to look the part of a successful man's wife, correct?"

"Exactly," Herman replied.

"You have provided a lovely home for her, a very generous budget, serving staff, and in return you want her to be visible to your associates."

"Yes."

"And your schedule keeps you very busy, and you haven't time to devote personal attention to Emily, and she needs to understand that, correct?"

"Yes, precisely," Herman answered emphatically. "She can help me make a better showing to my associates and clients. I give her all the things she needs, and it is my expectation that she will be available to socialize with my guests. She is well cared for. I'm a busy man. What else should she expect from me? What more could any woman expect?"

"I'm sure I don't know," replied George, stifling his indignation toward Herman. "I can see how her illness seems to have been interfering with your business plans, Mr. Fessenden."

"I'm glad you understand Dr. Fallows. I am very willing to pay for your best attentions and treatments of my wife -- whatever it takes for as long as it takes -- as long as she is able to entertain guests in our home at my side. This is most important to me. My whole purpose of getting married was so that I can fit in with the other businessmen. Frankly, I would not have thought of it myself, but thankfully my father pointed out the necessity of it." 

"I pledge to be meticulously thorough in examining your wife, Mr. Fessenden. And if I can discover the reasons for her illness, I will treat her as extensively as necessary so that she will be able to appear at your side at social engagements and dinner parties. You have my word on it." George extended his hand to Herman, and shook his hand, and Herman rushed back to his mercantile. 

What an ass, George thought! What a pompous, unfeeling ass was Herman Fessenden! Emily was nothing more than an object to him -- a piece of furniture -- a painting on the wall -- intended to impress his associates. What a gargantuan self-absorbed ass!

George recognized Emily as a lovely, bright, charming woman. A possible friend. Even a potential close friend with whom he could discuss topics that he had to keep inside. She was in need of sexual release, he was certain. Trusting, honest, and unashamed of her body. George wished Emily had married someone worthy of her -- not Herman Fessenden. In his role as physician, he would care for her. He would determine her needs, and meet as many of them as he could. He would do his best to improve Emily's condition -- not for Herman, but for Emily's sake. And because he liked her very, very much. He would address her sensuality. Surely the buffoon she had married would never treat her better than an Oriental rug or a French crystal chandelier! He would take care of her, and somehow give her the attentions and the sensual release she obviously needed. Friday afternoon would not come too soon!

Emily eagerly anticipated George's return on Friday. He seemed so distinguished, and learned, and she felt unusually comfortable with him. She had surprised herself by being so immodest in his presence. A smile spontaneously spread over her face as she recalled the events. She had enjoyed their time together very much. She had felt pleasure while he was examining her. He had touched her so tenderly. She shuddered when she remembered his touch. And his gaze. She was not ashamed to have him see her nude body. She had not been embarrassed as he touched the intimate areas of her body. She had felt herself blush several times, and her heart hasten, but it was not because she felt uncomfortable. To the contrary -- she had felt very comfortable. Very...alive.

The household staff noticed that Mrs. Fessenden's mood was lighter, and her face was brighter. Lucy was quizzed by the others on staff, but chose to keep her mistress' confidence and did not tell the others about Dr. Fallow's visit. As the 'upstairs maid', Lucy felt superior to the other two servants, and felt it her obligation to keep Mrs. Fessenden's secrets. Though Lucy did not know for certain what had gone on in Emily's bedroom when the doctor visited her, she was pleased that whatever it was seemed to have a positive effect on her mistress. Lucy was curious, though. She believed she would find out the particulars eventually -- one way or another.

Emily tossed in her bed the night after George had examined her. And the next night. She had those unusual dreams again. She awoke in the night, lying on her tummy, with her bedclothes above her waist, feeling dampness in her 'nether regions'. What were these sensations? What were these dreams that she could not remember? She thought George had been in the dreams, but she could not recall them. Her symptoms had abated after he examined her, but had returned the next day -- some of them more intensely -- especially the aching feeling in her pelvis. Despite the return of physical symptoms, she seemed more cheerful than usual.

What would happen when George arrived on Friday? The curiosity was exciting to Emily.

Friday morning came. Emily had Lucy prepare the parlor to receive Dr. Fallow once more. She had Lucy arrange fresh flowers, and have a bottle of fine port and Madeira in the parlors. It was quite obvious to Lucy that Mrs. Fessenden was eagerly anticipating his arrival.

Lucy drew the bath water, and Emily bathed meticulously. Soaping every inch of her body, slowly and sensually. She summoned Lucy to scrub her back. After she dried, she perfumed herself, daubing it on her neck, her bosom, and between her thighs. She noticed the dampness there -- the same as she had felt when George had examined her nipples.

She brushed her hair meticulously. Lucy brought her a silk gown, with floral designs on it. Emily slipped into it, without putting on any undergarments. Lucy was surprised, but said nothing. Dr. Fallow would be arriving within half an hour. Lucy had not seen Mrs. Fessenden this cheerful in quite some time -- probably never, actually. It pleased Lucy to see her mistress in a good mood. Obviously it had something to do with the visit from the doctor a few days ago. Lucy was curious, but it was not her place to ask her mistress for details. She did wonder at the thought of Miss Emily receiving the doctor dressed only in her gown. After all, it did cling to the curves of her body in a rather revealing manner.

At a little before 3 o'clock a rapping at the front door was heard. Emily's pulse quickened. "It must be George...er...Dr. Fallow," she told Lucy. "Please see him into the parlor. I'll meet him there."

"Good morning, Lucy. Is Mrs. Fessenden ready to receive me?"

"She asked me to show you into the parlor. She'll be down in a few moments."

George gave Lucy his hat, and went into the parlor. He stood in the middle of the room for a while, gazing at the décor. It was done in exceptionally good taste, furnished with the finest appointments. He was uncharacteristically nervous. After so many years of practice he had surely made a few thousand house calls, and they had become routine long, long ago. But this was different. He was eager to see Emily once again. His potential new friend, he hoped.

Emily checked her hair once more, being sure it was exactly as she wanted it to be. She looked at herself in the mirror. The silk dressing gown clung to her form. It was opaque, but she could see the little points of her nipples, which had begun to tighten in her anticipation to see the doctor again today. Would he think her too bold to meet him in the parlor dressed this way? He had seen her entire body already. It seemed to her that no formal propriety was necessary. Besides, it gave her an unusual satisfaction, and today she would disregard what was 'socially acceptable'. She experimented with her lapels...pulling them close together, then spreading them farther apart. She finally decided to keep the lapels of the long gown snugly closed. When she pulled them together, the fabric tightened over her breasts, and she decided that was the perfect 'look' that she wanted. Taking one last glance in the mirror, Emily hurried down the stairs.

George was just about to take a seat, when Emily greeted him. "Good morning Dr." she smiled. "Good morning Mrs. Fessenden", he said, extending his hand to her.

"Will you be needing anything, Mrs. Fessenden?" Lucy asked. 

"No, we have port and Madeira for the doctor. I think that will be all, Lucy."

After the servant left the room, George smiled warmly. "How is Emily today?"

"Very glad to see you, George. Will you let me pour you some wine?"

"Thank you, yes," George replied. I'll try the Madeira today please."

While Emily poured each of them a glass, George asked, "How did you fare after our visit a few days ago?"

"Oh, very well for the rest of the day. I felt better than I had in some time. Exhilarated. Then I had those restless dreams again the past two nights, and the symptoms returned as before. Is it possible that just talking with you about my problems, and having an examination could improve how I felt that day?"

"Evidently so," was George's reply. "I'm very glad you had some comfort afterward, Emily. It is my intent to help you in any way I can."

"Did my husband communicate with you after your visit?"

"He did. He came by my office unannounced, and inquired of your condition. I told him nothing specific at all. Only that I feel your condition will need thorough evaluation and probably quite a bit of attention." He took another sip of the Madeira. "Mr. Fessenden is quite involved in his businesses, isn't he?"

"Quite" Emily replied. "Making money is all that interests him, George."

"I probably should keep my opinions to myself, but I find it sad, Emily. And you must find it...well...difficult to bear."

"I am interested in your opinions George. And, I admit, life with Herman is not as I had hoped. Although he has given me a beautiful home, and the wherewithal to furnish it lavishly, and a very generous clothing budget, I feel quite lonely. I have no one to talk to, George. I haven't felt like leaving the house, or inviting guests here. Herman is scarcely at home, and when he is, he does not converse with me. It has been my fault, too, because I have secreted myself in my rooms quite often. In fact, it was very nice to converse with you the other day. You are a charming gentleman who seems to be very caring. Please feel at ease to speak frankly with me on any topic, George."

Swallowing another sip of Maderia, George looked earnestly at Emily. "Any topic?"

"Any," Emily nodded. "We will agree that all our conversations will remain confidential -- known only to each other. You pledged that to me, did you not?"

"Well, yes, Emily. But I meant to assure you that whatever you tell me as my patient, I am bound not to disclose to anyone."

"George," Emily asked, "do you have a confidant? Someone in whom you confide your inner most thoughts and ideas?" She was feeling pleasantly relaxed from the Madeira.

"No one, Emily. Being the doctor in this town for so many years, well, most people have been patients of mine at some time or other. I always made it a policy to not cross from the doctor-patient relationship into a personal friendship."

"Will you change that policy for me, George? I'd like it very much if you would. I haven't a close friend, and you just said that you don't. I'd like us to be friends and confidants if you are willing to make the exception in your rule."

"Yes, all right. Let's give it a try Emily." George smiled generously. "So, you felt better after the examination? Did you use the word 'exhilarated'?"

"Oh, yes, George. It was a very special experience for me. It was exciting. I could hardly believe how things went, and how I felt afterward."

"How do you mean, Emily?"

"Well, as I told you, I had never had an examination before. And I couldn't believe how it was. You explained everything to me, and were very gentle with me. And I felt in my heart that I could trust you -- in every way -- with everything --with all of me. Your words were reassuring. And your touch was very warm and gentle. I could not believe that I was so relaxed, and open with you -- even being comfortable to have you see my uncovered body."

"I noticed that you did seem very much at ease with me. It was a pleasant surprise -- most patients are not as relaxed and...free."

"Was it?"

"Was it what?"

"Was it really a pleasant surprise for you, George?" Emily accented the word 'pleasant'.

George felt himself blush, and looked down into his empty wineglass.

"Remember we agreed to be friends George," Emily urged. "Was it pleasant for you?"

"Yes, Emily, it was."

"How? How was it pleasant George?"

"Emily!"

"Yes?" she asked innocently.

"Emily, I am not at all accustomed to expressing my feeling with a...with...I'm just unaccustomed to expressing certain types of thoughts."

"But that was 'before' George -- before we made our agreement. Do tell me how it seemed pleasant to you. Please."

George poured another glass of Madeira for himself, and took a small drink. "I found myself admiring you, Emily. It was unexpected. I've been a doctor for all of my adult life, and, well, one does not 'admire' one's patients. But I found myself admiring you."




Emily Fessenden Ch. 03



"How George? Please tell me exactly how."

"I admired all of you -- your intellect, your attitude...and your body." The Madeira or the topic of conversation was causing George to feel warm. "Do you mind if I remove my jacket?"

"Of course you may, George. We needn't be formal with one another."

He stood to remove his jacket, draped it over a nearby table, and reseated himself.

"You're a very delightful, intelligent and lovely woman, Emily. Before I knew what had happened, I realized I had been charmed by you. It seemed as though I could not help myself."

Emily, too, was feeling warmer, and opened the top of her gown, exposing her upper chest. George noticed.

"What do you admire about my body, George?" Emily persisted.

"Emily...really...remember that I am here to complete your examination today. You do want me to continue with that, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, very much so, George."

"Then I suspect we had better put down our wine glasses, and think about commencing your exam."

"You're the doctor," Emily smiled. "Shall I go to my study to prepare for you?"

"Please" George nodded.

Emily stood to leave, then said, "Actually, George, you can come with me -- I will only need to open my gown, as I did not wear anything under it."

"I noticed, Emily" he smiled.

"Did you?" she was pleased. "When did you notice?"

"When I first saw you...I noticed the little peaks of your nipples pointing toward me through the fabric of your dressing gown."

"I'm glad you noticed, George." Emily smiled warmly, feeling herself warm

Emily led the way to her study. Once inside she closed the door and locked it. 

"How do you want me, George?" Emily asked bashfully with her soft voice.

"Well, Emily, we'll resume where we left off during our last session. But first, just have a seat on the fainting couch, and I'll roll pull over the chair from your desk again." 

Emily looked at George expectantly as he began to speak. "Today Emily I'm going to examine your pelvic area, both outside and inside. I realize this will be a new experience for you, which is why I explained it a bit the other day. Do you have any questions for me before we get started?"

Emily's head had been overflowing with questions for days.

"You told me that you'll be examining my outside area -- the pudendum -- right?"

"Yes."

"How do you do that George -- when you examine a woman in your office?"

"Well, Emily, this will be a little different than it would be in my office. For one, I examine my patients on an examination table -- which is higher than your fainting couch, and not nearly as comfortable for them."

"Higher?"

"Yes, higher. The table top of that exam table is...about the same height as a table top, or the top of your writing desk. And the other difference between examining a patient in my office and here in your study is that this setting is much more relaxed. Oh, and one more difference -- which is that I don't spend this much time conversing with patients, and the relationship is more formal with them."

Emily considered, then asked "Should we use something higher, then, George?"

"Oh, we can give the fainting couch a try -- it will be comfortable for you, and as long as I have this chair to sit on, it ought to work just fine. Besides, I don't imagine you'd have anything in the house that might be the right height, and be comfortable. Even though a table would be the right height, they're rather uncomfortable to lie on."

Emily thought a moment, and said, "My bed would be the right height, George."

He blushed, paused before speaking, and said "I feel certain this arrangement will suit just fine for today, Emily. Now go ahead and lie on your back please."

She did as George requested, eager for him to continue. She began to untie the sash of her gown.

"Emily, you needn't untie your robe today. I'll only be examining you below the waist."

She looked disappointed. "Oh," she slightly pouted. "Are you sure you won't need me to open my robe all the way, George?"

Considering her offer, and being uncharacteristically bold, George said, "Yes, Emily. I would like you to open your robe completely for me."

She gladly complied, helping the fabric slide off her skin, exposing herself totally to George. It felt as good as it did the last time when she had been nude with George. She watched his face as he looked at her. She watched his gaze go to her breasts. Then her tummy. Then the place where her thighs meet. Then her legs. Her heart was racing as he looked at her, and she felt some warmth beginning begin to flush over her skin.

George admired Emily's youthful body. The skin free of blemish. The sensual curves. Her swollen nipples. Her lovely oval navel. The hairs covering her mound. Her smooth thighs and delicate feet. He felt his usual professional facade slipping away. He looked at Emily -- not as Dr. Fallow -- but as George. George the man who had erotic urges -- urges that had not been fulfilled. Urges that he had long denied existed in him. He could feel a response in his body...in the uniquely masculine parts of his body. George felt warmth, and tingling...and stiffening. He could feel himself growing as he admired Emily's body.

To be continued...



Emily Fessenden Ch. 04



"Tell me again what you're going to do, George" Emily asked.

"I'm going to examine your pelvic area, Emily. I'll check you thoroughly outside and inside. The outside area you learned to call the pudendum is also known as the 'vulva' or 'mons veneris'. As you know, you have two pairs of lips down there – the one covered by hairs, and the other in between them, that are delicate like the petals of a flower. I'll look at them, and feel them between my fingers, checking for any cysts or other abnormalities."

Emily's skin warmed with anticipation.

"Then I'll spread them apart, and look at the opening. Doctors call it the 'introitus'. There is the opening to your vaginal canal, and the tiny opening where your water comes out, and a little bud called the 'clitoris'. I'll look carefully at them, and I'll examine the clitoris with my fingers."

Emily sighed with expectancy.

"Next I will introduce one finger into your vaginal canal. I'll do it slowly and carefully, Emily, intending to cause no discomfort. Once my finger is inside you, I'll feel for any abnormalities of the muscles within your pelvis, feel your bladder area, and touch your cervix – that part of your womb or uterus that extends into your vaginal canal. I'll determine if your womb may be tilted from the normal position. I'll also try to feel your ovaries."

"Oh, George, that sounds very complicated."

"I admit there is a lot to examine, Emily, and that it takes quite a while for a doctor to become truly proficient at evaluating this area. It took me a long while, and, frankly, most doctors give up long before refining their skills. I promise to be as gentle as possible Emily. I'll take things slow and easy, and I will not rush. If and when anything is uncomfortable, I want you to tell me, and I will slow down, or try to be even more gentle."

"And this will help you know about my condition and how to help me?" she inquired.

"It will," George assured her.

"All right, George" Emily couldn't decide whether to close her eyes, or to keep them open. She wondered whether she'd feel more curious or embarrassed.

"Do you have any questions before I begin, Emily?"

'It won't hurt much, will it George?" she asked bravely.

"I promise to make it as comfortable as possible, Emily. I'll watch your face for any telltale signs of distress. I assure you that I'll take my time Emily" he promised. "In fact, it may even feel pleasant to you."

"Pleasant, George? What makes you think that?"

He blushed and answered, "Yes, Emily, it may feel pleasant. This is a very sensitive area, and some women feel a certain pleasure when I examine them."

"I'd like that George. I trust you. Please do what needs doing. What shall I do for you?" 

"I want you to bend both your knees, and rest the soles of your feet on the couch. Then let your hips relax so that your knees are spread apart."

Emily did as instructed, relaxing and allowing her knees to widen apart, spreading her thighs open, a little surprised with herself that she felt glad that George would be looking at her there. More than that, she realized that for some reason she actually wanted to expose her tender parts to his view. She noticed a variety of sensations – the soft velvet under the soles of her bare feet, the coolness of the air between her thighs, the tightness of her nipples, and the pounding of her heart. Instead of keeping her eyes closed, she looked down at herself, at the wide V formed by her thighs. And she looked at George, observing the look in his eyes, and the slight flushing of his face.

The doctor rolled the chair into a position from which he could examine the lovely young lady. He knew exactly what he was doing. He felt the rising desire within him, and knew it was 'unprofessional', but relished it anyway. He was completely aware that his masculine member had gradually stiffened and was now straining against the fabric of his trouser leg. He was very conscious of his arousal. It was not the usual aloof but friendly attitude he had when he examined most female patients. Instead, he admitted to himself that he felt lust – there was no denial that he was experiencing strong erotic sensations as he prepared to touch Emily and examine her nether regions. From his vantage point, he could see the sheen of moisture on Emily's inner labia. Her tightly puckered nipples, her breathing, and her facial expressions combined to make it obvious she was as aroused as he. The difference was that she was a young ingénue and he was a middle-aged man with experience. 

He reached toward her with both hands, and separated her lightly hair-covered labia with the fingers of his left hand, exposing her pink moist inner lips. Emily softly gasped in response to the thrill of the doctor's touch.

George's experienced fingers had examined a few hundred women through the years. He could complete a through examination of a woman's pelvis in only a few minutes. The basics had become matter-of-fact many years ago. He imagined that he could do it blind-folded, it had become so routine for him. There was a mental checklist that he automatically went through during each examination. But this time was different. This time it was Emily Fessenden. He was aware that his fingers trembled ever so slightly as he spread her open. He was aroused by the sight of Emily's moist labia, the feel of the delicate flesh between his fingers, and the thoughts of how he would proceed to patiently, tenderly, and thoroughly explore her in very special ways. The feelings and imaginings that filled his mind were pleasant and exciting to him. Her feminine scent filled his nostrils.

As George held Emily's curl-covered labia apart with his adroit hand, he ever so lightly touched her dampness. Pausing just like that...finger tips barely touching her dewy petals...he looked into her face.

"Emily," George began in a soft, low-pitched voice, "I'm going to examine you completely and slowly. I'll be as gentle as possible as I explore you with my fingers. As I mentioned, nothing ought to hurt."

Emily nodded, heart pounding, skin beginning to moisten with warmth, and full of erotic anticipation.

"I want you to tell me how each area feels when I examine it Emily," George continued. "Let me know if something feels tender, tight, painful, odd...or pleasant."

She nodded silently once more.

When Emily nodded, George very softly used his fingertip to slowly separate her pink, swollen inner lips. The feeling of her moisture on his fingertip was an exquisite sensation. Emily quivered in response to the sensation of the doctor slowly gliding his finger between her lips, tracing the length of her folds in a very unhurried manner. George savored the moments, watching his finger tip move between her labia, enjoying the scent of Emily's arousal, and taking pleasure in knowing how much she was enjoying his touch. His cock was hot and stiff and straining tightly against the fabric of his trousers. 

He toyed with her that way for a minute or more. 

"Is this comfortable so far Emily?" George inquired.

"Oh yes, George. It is very comfortable." She emphasized the word 'very'.

The doctor began in a very measured and slow fashion to push his finger into her vaginal orifice. It was hot. Wet. Slippery. Very slowly, George began to slip his finger just a little farther.

There it was. That thin, crescent-shaped membrane named for the ancient Greek god of weddings, Hymenaois. Emily's hymen was taut, as totally intact as George expected it to be, based on the fact that Emily and Herman had never consummated their marriage. It covered only about one third of the portal into her vagina. Dr. Fallow had examined virgins before, and knew that with gentle, slow persistence, it could usually be stretched without being ruptured in cases in which it covered less than half the opening. He continued slowly, and could get just the tip of his finger past her maidenhead.

"Emily, there is a membrane here, called a hymen," George said in his doctor tone of voice. "It is normal for it to be present in women who have not had sexual relations." His fingertip remained motionless. "As I examine you, I will try to gently stretch the membrane. It may burn or even hurt a little when I do, but I will be very careful and take my time. It feels as though yours is very thin, and I think it will yield to a little pressure at a time."

He moved his finger only a millimeter or two further into her opening, feeling her hymen resist. 

"How does this feel Emily?" 

Emily was most definitely aroused, but did feel a little burning sensation. "It is just a little uncomfortable, George. But....", her voice trailed off.

George felt the tight resistance of her hymen begin to yield to his light pressure; he held his finger totally still, patiently waiting. "But what, Emily?"

"But...well...you did ask me to tell you how everything feels...whether it hurts or feels queer or feels pleasant."

"Yes. And what are you feeling now?"

"It does burn, but only a little, George. And...it also feels very pleasant for your finger to be where it is."

George almost imperceptibly moved his finger further into her, confident that the elasticity of her membrane would allow him to eventually insert his finger to its limit. He placed his other hand atop her pubic mound, and gently petted her pubic curls, watching her face for signs of obvious discomfort. Very little by very little, the hymen stretched, and millimeter at a time, his finger went deeper into Emily's sopping cunny.

The feeling of George's hand on her mound, and his finger entering her was wonderful. Emily could scarcely lie still. 

"Just relax and breathe deeply and slowly," George instructed. "We're in no rush. There are no other patients waiting. We'll take whatever time we need for this to be comfortable and pleasant for you." He continued to pat and gently massage her pubic hillock, and very slowly inserted his index finger as her hymen stretched to accommodate it. The combination of her heat, her slippery wetness, the sight of her naked body and erect nipples, the sounds of her slow breathing, and the fragrance of her sex had almost a trance-like effect on the doctor.

As minutes went by, George was able to get two-thirds of his finger inside Emily's damp cunny before he felt that her hymen would stretch no more without causing some pain. He did not wish to make this unpleasant for Emily in any way. Knowing that he had been given carte blanche by Emily's husband in regard to examining and treating her, he knew that he did not need to be hasty. He would be able to probe deeper inside her the next time. 

"Emily, my finger is as far inside as I am going to insert it for today's exam. I don't want to cause any needless pain."

"Oh, George," Emily sighed with pleasure, "you may hurt me if you need to. I don't mind."

"No, Emily, we are in no hurry. I shall examine what I can today, then on our next appointment I will be able to go farther." Saying that, George began to explore as much of her inner pelvis as he could reach with his finger. His expert fingers palpated the moist walls of her vagina, pressing gently but firmly, feeling the extreme tension in her muscles. First the left side. Then he slowly rotated his finger so as not to hurt her, and curled the tip, feeling the spongy tissues behind her pubic bone. Emily gasped, but George knew it was not because it hurt.

"This area feels very sensitive to you, Emily?"

"Yes, George," she answered in her soft raspy voice of arousal. "Is it supposed to?"

George gently stroked the engorged swelling of tissues. "Yes, Emily, it is usually very sensitive, or feels rather queer, and often pleasurable." He pressed a little more firmly into the spongy area. George knew something that was taught in no medical colleges – a secret that he had read about in one of his antiquarian books. George knew that there is a place within the vaginal canal, behind the pubic bone, that is very sensitive and can cause intense pleasure for some women when it is massaged. 

Slowly he rotated his finger, and felt along the wall of the left side of her wet vaginal canal, noticing also the tension and spasms of her inner muscles. The doctor knew that these muscles needed to be treated – massaged and coaxed into relaxing. His knowledge of anatomy and physiology connected the tension there with Emily's symptoms.

As his finger tip moved to touch her smooth, round cervix, he allowed his thumb to press lightly on her swollen clitoris. Emily purred and her body twitched slightly with pleasure.

"George?" Emily asked. He looked up at her. "That feels very pleasant. There where your thumb is resting." He smiled, but did not reply. He wanted to explore a little further. There would be time for many more pleasant sensations later.

The doctor felt the tiny opening of her cervix – the os. He knew without seeing it what it looked like. Pink. Smooth. Glistening. Small, but beginning to open with arousal. He explored her cervix gently, pressing softly this way and that, and noticing that her uterus was tilted backward. Without inserting his finger fully, he could not discern more than that, but was able to recognize the abnormality. He had found this to be the cause of various symptoms in some of his patients. He had first learned of this, too, through reading long out-of-print texts. He was satisfied that he knew now how to treat Emily's condition effectively. He was certain that he could help her many aliments.

And he knew that in so doing, he would not only help relieve her symptoms, but give her erotic pleasure and release. 

And he admitted to himself that Emily aroused him to his core. She was physically beautiful, delightful to converse with. And she was an ingénue in sexual matters. 

George pressed his thumb a little more firmly on the bud of her clitoris, and it slipped to one side as he did. Emily gasped, and flinched with pleasure. The sensation startled her, and was quite agreeable. She felt it not only where he had pressed, but it sent sensations coursing through her entire body. George repeated his motion, pressing on her clitoris, then allowing the little nub to slip from under his thumb to one side. Emily flinched with pleasure once again, sucking in a gasp of breath.

Very slowly George continued to massage the swollen little nubbin above Emily's virginal cleft. The muscles of her thighs tensed and shuddered as the doctor unhurriedly tweaked her clit.

"This does not hurt, does it Emily?" He was almost certain that the sensations she was experiencing had nothing to do with pain.

"No, George." She was dazed by the intense sensations.

"Does it feel odd?"

"Yes...odd...and...it feels very good. I...I...like it George" she said with wide eyes.

"Perfect." George smiled as he lazily continued to massage and lightly flick the kernel of her clitoris with his thumb, while holding the index finger that was within her perfectly still. He moved the other hand to her lower tummy, resting it there, feeling the occasional involuntary contractions of her belly muscles in response to his stimulation.

"What is that George? What are you pressing on?"

The doctor continued his ministrations in a very leisurely way. "Where my thumb is massaging is a very special little bundle of nerves, Emily. Doctors call it your 'clitoris'."

"Clitoris?" Emily's voice was soft, sensual, and breathy. "I never heard that word before. I'm certain Miss Bell never mentioned it in her classes about feminine anatomy and health."

"She may not have known about it, Emily. Most books on the subject do not mention it – even books written for doctors. But it is a very important part of your anatomy." He continued to easily and slowly massage her. He intended only to heighten her awareness of her clitoris, and had no plan at all to bring her to orgasm – not today. He purposed to begin to teach her body gradually about sensual pleasures.