30 comments/ 420231 views/ 134 favorites Science at St Mary's By: Jim Ruby Sunday, May 16th, 1869 As "Rock of Ages" thundered out from the church organ, Prunella Drew took a deep breath and fainted, her limp body collapsing onto the hard church pew. A few seconds later, Irene went white and passed out, closely followed by Sarah and Amelia. On the other side of the aisle, Jane Clayton only realised what was happening when she heard the thump of Sarah's hip hitting the edge of the pew and a distinct yelp of pain above the lusty singing around her. She tightened her lips, hitched up her skirts and crossed over to the senior girls' pew. She advanced laboriously, tripping over the prayer stools and crushing the hoops of her crinoline past the hysterically weeping girls, but at last she managed to shake Amelia back to her feet and wave a bottle of smelling salts under Prunella's nose. By the time the majestic chords of "Rock of Ages" had died down, all the girls were standing again. Jane made her way back to her place as discretely as her crinoline would let her. She glanced apologetically at Colonel Fetherington, the school governor, and caught the scornful movement of his eyebrows as he turned his gaze back towards the altar. Mrs Harmsworth, the headmistress, just glared. Jane's heart sank. There would be hell to pay. "Enter!" Jane pushed open the heavy oak door, her heart pounding. The headmistress was not alone in her study, there was a gentleman whom Jane vaguely remembered seeing at church, a man in his sixties with a generous belly, ruddy cheeks and an enormous handlebar moustache. "Miss Clayton. Dr Wilbert-Brown." "Delighted, Miss Clayton." the doctor said, getting up with a little bow. "Sir." curtsied Jane. Mrs Harmsworth did not invite her to sit down. "Miss Clayton, would you be so kind as to explain the appalling spectacle at church this morning?" "The girls are going through a difficult time, headmistress. I think they have romantic fantasies in their heads, they imagine themselves as ... swooning heroines." The headmistress raised her eyes in exasperation and Jane hastily added "Irene doesn't eat enough, and Prunella will tie her corset too tight." "Miss Clayton," Mrs Harmsworth cut in irritably, "do you really believe the mass hysteria I witnessed this morning is simply a question of diets and corsets?" "That's not what ..." Jane started, then bit her tongue. After five months of teaching at St Mary's boarding school, she'd learned that it was not at all wise to contradict the headmistress. "Well, speak up woman. As their housemistress, you are responsible for their conduct." " If you will pardon my interrupting" smiled the elder gentleman "I am not certain that Miss Clayton could have avoided what happened this morning, even if she had wanted to." Mrs Harmsworth looked away and said nothing. Jane felt a surge of gratitude to the man. "I think the cause is elsewhere." he added gently. The headmistress looked back at Jane, aiming her gaze a few inches above the young teacher's head, her usual and remarkably efficient technique for intimidating staff and students alike. "Dr Wilbert-Brown" said Mrs Harmsworth "believes that the matter is more serious than you seem to think. He believes that our girls touch themselves ..." the headmistress continued with visible distaste "... down there." There was a heavy pause. Jane blushed deeply, the headmistress let her gaze travel across the oak panelling of the study to the portrait of one of her grim predecessors. The doctor gently broke the silence. "It is a question I have been studying for years now, Miss Clayton. Hysteria is all too often caused by improper sexual stimulation. And we now know that repeated masturbation ... when a girl caresses her vulva ..." the Doctor added, as the word was obviously new to Jane. "Quite, Doctor, I don't think we need too much detail." The headmistress cut in, clearly annoyed that such matters should be spoken of at all. "My apologies, Madam, it is a delicate subject, but I'm sure an intelligent woman like Miss Clayton will have no difficulty in understanding." Jane warmed to him. It was rare a man took her seriously, and even more flattering that an eminent doctor should do so. "I'll do my best, doctor" she smiled. "Excellent. Now masturbation, as I was saying, is now known to produce all sorts of diseases, from anaemia and migraines, to diminished sight and even jaundice. It is essential to diagnose and prevent it as early as possible. I hope I am wrong about the girls, but it is in their own interest to clear this matter up quickly." "I understand, Doctor." Jane replied, blushing with a quick flutter of guilt. Of course the girls masturbated, at least she assumed they did. She had at their age, and still did. "Dr Wilbert-Brown will be checking your girls tomorrow morning." Mrs Harmsworth added dryly. "I have arranged for Nurse Wilson to assist him, and I count on your discretion not to say a word about this to anyone beforehand. Is that clear?" "Yes, Madam." Jane replied, curious to know what this "checking" actually involved. "What exactly will ..." "That will be all, Miss Clayton." "Yes, Madam." She moved to the door. "Miss Clayton?" Jane turned back. The headmistress was gazing at her with a faintly contemptuous smile. "You will also be checked." Jane blushed scarlet and left. That night Jane lay wide-eyed on the narrow bed in her tiny attic room, her stomach knotted with worry. What would the doctor look for? How could he check such a thing? More importantly, would he find her out? Almost every night her fingers slid down between her legs and stroked away the tensions of the day with erotic dreams of pirates and Viking marauders. It was rare she went to sleep without a sweet, swift climax, usually at about the stage when she was pinned down by handsome thugs, her thighs held open for a tall warrior who slowly unbuckled his belt ... Would the doctor see all that at the examination? Jane suddenly felt horribly naked and vulnerable, as if her most intimate secrets were about to be put on public display. "Pull yourself together, Jane," she said to herself "the doctor is kind and intelligent, I'm fit as a fiddle and I've never ever had even mild hysterics. It'll be fine, just fine." In the far distance the church clock struck two and Jane concentrated her thoughts elsewhere ... a knife ripping open her tent, the dark hand of an Arab clamped over her mouth, her nightdress torn open and black eyes in the flicker of torch-light ... For a second, she touched the thick curls of her pussy, then drew her hand back. Not tonight, she decided, just in case. Monday, May 17th, 1869 Jane woke up to a magnificent sunny day and quickly forgot her anguish as she prepared for her French class at the local military academy. She taught a class of twenty-six young officers there twice a week and thoroughly enjoyed it. Not that they were especially good at the subject or assiduous in their work but it was a healthy break from the feminine hothouse at St Mary's boarding school, and the men were extremely pleased to see her. Female company was scarce in this backwood of the Scottish highlands, and the officers went out of their way to be charming. She knew perfectly well that their eyes spent more time on her breasts and hips than on the words she wrote on the blackboard, but there was never a hint of a leer or a displaced remark. So her morning preparation was not so much a question of grammar and translations, as a good hour and a half spent on making herself as ravishing as possible. Not an easy task at St Mary's where make-up was banned and all dresses were buttoned up to the neck, but a discrete touch of blush and a light trace of kohl on her eyelashes could pass as natural. Jane fixed her black curls up into an elegant mass high on the back of her head leaving a couple of unruly ringlets to frame her cheeks and looked at herself in the mirror. Her blue skirt blossomed out like a bell from her corseted waist with a slight hint of petticoat showing just above her dainty shoes. The curve of her bosom was modest but it wasn't that difficult to notice that her breasts were set high and firm. "That'll do" she thought, smiling. Her dark eyes sparkled and she daringly added a touch of red to her lips before grabbing her bonnet and heading for the waiting carriage. The morning went perfectly. Sunlight poured through the windows of the classroom, specks of dust dancing in the beams, as she walked slowly along the aisles between the desks dictating a passage of French. The officers were only a couple of years younger than her, between 19 and 22, but she considered them all as her boys. She watched tenderly as Mathew, a dark, stocky soldier from Leeds scratched laboriously at his paper, lent over to point at a mistake James was making, tapped warningly on Simon's shoulder when she saw him looking at his neighbour's work. The young men followed her sensual figure with their eyes while she walked, blushed and returned to their papers when she caught them looking. She had lunch in the officer's mess and chatted for longer than usual, totally forgetting she was expected back at St Mary's for the check-up. It was already almost two in the afternoon when a small troupe of admirers gallantly helped her up into the carriage. Jane hitched the edge of her skirt up a few inches as she put her foot onto the iron step and the eyes around her all flicked down instantly to get a glimpse of her dainty ankle and a flash of petticoat. She settled back on her seat with a laugh, smoothed her blue satin skirt around her and waved back as the coachman cracked his whip. When the carriage pulled up on the gravel outside St Mary's, Nurse Wilson was waiting for her. "You're late, Miss Clayton" the woman snapped, looking more dour than ever, "you were expected three quarters of an hour ago." "I do apologise, Mrs Wilson, I was retained." "That may be, Miss, but the Doctor has better things to do than twiddle his thumbs. You are to go to the summer room straight away." Jane got down and was surprised to see Nurse Wilson hoist herself up into the carriage in her place. "Aren't you coming with me?" "Oh, it's much too late for that, Miss. I have significant duties in the village. The Doctor will take care of you." Mrs Wilson leaned forward to tell George, the coachman, where to take her. Jane suddenly felt disconcerted, not at all happy to confront the doctor without the dour but reassuring presence of the nurse. "How did it go this morning?" She called uncertainly. "Without a hitch" the woman replied, with a frown and a jerk of her head towards George to remind Jane that nothing should be said. "Everything went fine." The carriage moved away and Jane tripped over the gravel in her dainty shoes feeling distinctly nervous. "Ah, Miss Clayton" Dr Wilbert Brown greeted her, his bushy white whiskers flourishing, "we were beginning to worry about you." Jane pulled at the ribbon of her bonnet and started to apologise, but the doctor dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "I'd like to introduce you to my assistant, Mr Quinten" A pale young man who could hardly be over twenty, with a thin moustache and carefully oiled hair, stepped forward and bowed. "And Dr O'Reilley needs no introduction, of course." Jane's heart fluttered as the handsome doctor from the military academy stepped forward. The man was tall and powerfully built, and rumour had it that he had explored widely in the Congo. Most of the women at St Mary's had a crush on him and Jane was no exception. She curtsied rapidly with a slight blush. "Doctor." He bowed, "Miss Clayton." "Doctor O'Reilley is a former student of mine from Edinburgh" pursued Dr Wilbert-Brown, "I have invited him to join us today to show him my latest methods. Would you be happy to accept his presence during the examination?" Jane hesitated. "I don't know what it involves yet!" she smiled nervously. "Oh, it's all standard medical stuff, my dear, nothing to worry about! However, I appreciate the nature of what we are diagnosing could prove a little embarrassing." John O'Reilley stepped forward. "It's entirely up to you, Miss Clayton, if you wish me to leave I will go immediately." Jane smiled, pleased with his courtesy. "No, I'm sure it's perfectly all right. And I have nothing to hide, I can assure you." She added, blushing. "Splendid, splendid." said Wilbert-Brown, his eyes twinkling, "I suggest we get down to work straight away. Now Miss Clayton, if you would kindly remove your dress and corset. Quinten will help you if you need any assistance." Jane looked at him, stunned. No man had ever seen her undressed before. "Come, come, my dear" the Doctor said gently, "it is perfectly standard procedure nowadays. Surely you know that, a woman of your intelligence. Medicine has become a science, not the guesswork it used to be. I can hardly examine you properly if you're fully dressed, can I?" Jane nodded silently, and felt a little foolish. She had indeed heard of these modern consultations where the patients were expected to undress. She now deeply regretted agreeing to John O'Reilley's presence but it was too late to change her mind. With trembling fingers, she began to undo the buttons of her dress and was tremendously relieved that the two doctors moved tactfully away to the window and talked with their backs to her. Quinten hovered discretely behind. As the layers of satin and tulle came off, Jane felt a faint buzz of excitement in the pit of her stomach mixed with her apprehension. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror on the far wall, and found it hard to believe that the woman she saw stepping out of a pile of tulle petticoats in her white bloomers, curly hair swept up elegantly at the back of her head, was really her. With Quinten undoing the laces of her corset behind her back and the two doctors in their black jackets in the far background, it looked more like a painting of a Parisian brothel. It was both deeply disturbing and curiously exciting. As Quinten folded the corset with the rest of her clothes, Jane adjusted a stray lock of hair, checked to see she was as decent as possible, and took a deep breath. "I'm ready, Doctor." John O'Reilley turned around and felt his penis stiffen instantly. Jane's lace shift hung loosely on her shoulders, her full breasts obviously free and naked under the cotton. Her knee-length bloomers hugged the soft curves of her hips, the creases at her pubis emphasising the plump triangle underneath. The young woman's dark eyes met his with nervous embarrassment and he looked away. Dr Wilbert-Brown took things into hand. "Thank you, my dear. Please, come this way." He led her across to a table with a mattress laid on it to improvise a consulting couch and helped her to sit up on the edge. "Now, if you will allow me, we will begin." For the first few minutes, he ran through a series of fairly benign checks, her eyes, her mouth, her reflexes ... But unlike doctors Jane was used to, he touched her body freely and frankly while he was talking, laying a hand on her thigh, her shoulder or her stomach while he was talking to his colleague. He had a dry, warm touch that Jane enjoyed and despite his forwardness, it was not unpleasant. "Now Miss Clayton, please straighten your back ... chin up ..." Jane did as she was told and suddenly realised the doctor was calmly undoing the buttons of her shift. Instinctively she raised her hands to protect herself but the doctor just looked surprised. "Would you prefer to undo it yourself, Miss Clayton?" Jane blushed furiously, her heart hammering. She fiddled at a button with trembling fingers, then gave up. "No, Sir." The doctor resumed his work. "This won't take long, my dear, straighten your back. And please, chin up." He slipped the straps of the shift off her shoulders and Jane's milk-white breasts with their dark pink nipples tumbled into view. "Excellent, excellent" he muttered, "John, come and have a look at this." Dr O'Reilley stared, not quite believing what he was seeing. Jane's breasts were magnificent, the soft, full curves jutting proudly from her chest, trembling with her rapid heartbeat. He glanced up at Jane's face, her cheeks crimson with embarrassment, and for a second he hesitated. "John?" Wilbert-Brown's voice broke in a little sharply "Miss Clayton really is a remarkable subject. Come over here ..." Wilbert-Brown had cupped Jane's left breast and was squeezing it gently. On the good doctor's orders, John O'Reilley reached forward and ran his fingers over the silky skin. "Hold it firmly from underneath John and lift a little. That's right. Now with your other hand, press on each side of the aureole, just so." To her acute embarrassment, Jane saw her nipples swell until they jutted thick and firm between the men's fingers. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. As the doctors probed and caressed her, Wilbert-Brown kept up a running commentary on what he affirmed was Jane's remarkable sexual health. Apparently few women who indulged in masturbation could hope for a bosom like hers. His obvious admiration was in fact the only thing that kept Jane from protesting, that faint hope that this was her clean bill of health. At last they stopped, and Wilbert-Brown told her she could do up her shift. Jane breathed a sigh of relief and opened her eyes. The doctor was smiling kindly at her, "There, there, it wasn't so bad, was it, my dear?" "No" she smiled ruefully and started to get down. "We're not quite finished, young lady, there is one more point to check. Please lie back. Yes, lie right down, flat on your back ... that's it. Quinten, could you get a cushion to put under Miss Clayton's hips?" Quinten produced the cushion in an instant and Jane obediently raised her hips for him to slide it under her. Before she had time to realise what was happening, Dr Wilbert-Brown had pulled the string on her bloomers and begun to strip them down. John O'Reilley stared as the soft triangle of black curls came into view and felt a sudden surge in his aching penis. A second later Jane wailed "No!", caught hold of her bloomers and struggled violently to pull them back up. "Miss Clayton! Stop this! You're behaving like a hysterical child!" Wilbert-Brown's voice cut in harshly, but Jane was having none of it. She wept and fought and clutched at her bloomers in desperation. "Hold her arms, Quinten. John, take her legs. Quickly man." John O'Reilley caught one of Jane's legs with difficulty, surprised at her strength, while Wilbert-Brown pinned down the other. "This is unacceptable Miss Clayton" the doctor puffed in his exertions, "none of the girls made half so much fuss." John pressed with all his weight on Jane's knees, Quinten gripped her arms tightly behind her head, and suddenly Jane realised she was defeated. The doctor's words sank in. He had done this to all her girls, all of them. She gave up and wept. Dr Wilbert-Brown straightened his collar, smoothed his hair and went back to work, stripping her bloomers right down to her ankles. "Spread her legs please, John" he said curtly. O'Reilley complied. A ribbon of black curls split by a thin strip of pink appeared between the young teacher's soft white thighs. "Now, let's see what all this fuss was about." muttered the doctor as his chubby fingers touched the plump mound of her vulva. He opened the long lips like the petals of a flower and O'Reilley could see right down to the dark ribbed entrance of her vagina. He'd never in his life seen any woman as intimately as this, not even his wife, and his hands gripped unnecessarily tightly at Jane's knees. Wilbert-Brown was clearly interested in a small nub of flesh right at the top of her slit, protected by a hood of skin which he drew back. The doctor rubbed it gently a couple of times, waiting for a reaction. O'Reilley didn't see anything actually happen, but he could have sworn it had grown fatter. Science at St Mary's Wilbert-Brown nodded and sighed. He gestured at Quinten to let go of Jane's arms and she immediately covered her exposed pussy with both hands. He drew up a chair next to her. "Jane, Jane, please stop this crying now. There, now." He passed her his handkerchief. Jane kept one hand firmly clamped on her vulva as she blew her nose and glanced furiously at O'Reilley. John immediately let go of her thighs feeling distinctly guilty, and let her close her legs. When Jane had calmed down, Wilbert-Brown murmured gently, "You do masturbate, don't you, Miss Clayton?" "Yes." her sobbing started afresh. "Often." "Yes." "Oh Miss Clayton! You just don't realise what danger you are in, do you, my dear? Please, dry your tears. Now that your secret is out, perhaps we can proceed more calmly and find a solution.» Jane calmed down slowly. "Do you think so Doctor?" "There's always a solution, that's what I'm here for." "Please don't tell Mrs Harmsworth." "I'm afraid that will depend on you, my dear." "I'm sorry about the fuss. Really. It won't happen again." "That's the spirit. Finely said, young woman. Here, sit up for a moment." The doctor sent Quinten to get a glass of sherry for Jane while she pulled up her bloomers, rearranged her shift and sat up on the edge of the table. John O'Reilley looked on with mixed emotions. Jane's confession had seriously shocked him. He himself had masturbated since he was a boy and still indulged frequently to compensate his wife's lack of enthusiasm. But the idea of a woman masturbating seemed almost obscene, the type of thing he'd expect only from artist's models and whores. Certainly not from the pure Miss Clayton. Jane drank her sherry gratefully and held out her glass for another. "Now Jane," said Wilbert-Brown, "you do understand that at your age, you may have caused almost irreparable damage. I must check exactly how much, I'm afraid." "As you wish, Sir." answered Jane, her heart sinking. Wilbert-Brown patted her shoulder and gestured at Quinten to give her another sherry. When she had finished it, he continued "Now, get down for a moment and take the rest of those clothes off." She slipped off the table nervously. "All of them?" "Every stitch, my dear. I'll need to have a proper look at you." Jane's cheeks burned crimson. They'd already seen the most intimate, shameful parts of her body, what more could they want? But now that she'd confessed, how could she possibly refuse? Her fingers trembled as she reached for the blue bow of her garter. "Is this really necessary?" she asked in a small voice. "Absolutely, I'm afraid." She took a deep breath and pulled on the bow. The garter dropped silently to the floor and she started to roll down her white woollen stocking. None of the men moved tactfully away as they had before and she was acutely aware of their eyes on her. As she undid the buttons of her shift, she felt that she was stripping away the last shreds of her dignity with her clothes. A woman who masturbated, exposing herself in front of strangers. It somehow felt far worse to undress like this without being forced. Jane let her shift fall to the floor and looked up at the men in front of her. They were staring at her with a raw desire that had nothing medical about it. Shame flooded through her and her small hands trembled violently when she touched the knot of her bloomers. "Please." She murmured desperately. "Hurry up, Miss Clayton, this won't take a minute." John O'Reilley watched the young teacher tug reluctantly at the string, her heavy, naked breasts quivering and a deep blush spreading down her neck. She hesitated, and then slowly began to push her bloomers down her legs. The doctor's eyes flicked appreciatively from her white thighs to the broad curve of her hip, the crease of puppy fat at her waist and her swaying bosom as she bent over to free her feet. She straightened up, modestly covering herself with her hands. "Arms by your sides, please, Miss Clayton." Wilbert-Brown said sharply. "Thank you. And please turn around." Jane did as she was told, and for the second time that afternoon, caught sight of herself in the mirror on the far wall. Again she had the distinct sensation of looking at someone else, some Parisian whore with her hair up, wearing nothing more than a silver necklace, her thick pink nipples jutting proudly, the black triangle of her pussy with its high slit lewdly exposed against the pale skin of her body. Behind her the men in black suits casually observed her buttocks while they finished their sherries. The whole scene looked utterly debauched and disturbingly, she found it deeply arousing. She looked away quickly, suddenly frightened. "Now turn this way please, and lift your arms horizontally." Wilbert-Brown stepped up briskly and caught her shoulders in both hands. Jane tried to calm her breathing and stood obediently with her arms stretched as he inspected her naked body, his hands running freely over her breasts, belly and hips. The way he touched her seemed less delicate than it had been previously, a brisk squeeze at her waist, a casual flip on her nipples, a firm grip on her inner thigh to make her move her legs apart, almost as if she was an object. It left her confused, partially reassured by the impression of a neutral, professional examination and at the same time, vaguely humiliated. When O'Reilley stepped up to examine her it was the exact opposite. There was nothing professional in the way the young doctor hesitantly caressed her, his slow touch fuelling the dark, uneasy desire in her belly. When he had finished he was blushing as deeply as she was. Wilbert-Brown drew up a chair and beckoned to Jane. She turned in a daze, and stood in front of him, her arms passively by her sides. The doctor stared at the triangle of black curls only inches away from him, neatly divided by the twin pink lines of her inner lips. "Now, my dear," he began, "I appreciate this is awkward for you, but you must bear with me. I need to have a proper look at you, not just a quick glance in the middle of a tussle." He smiled up at Jane, but she didn't share the humour. Her eyes were lowered and she was breathing heavily. "I'd like you to put your left foot up on the edge of my chair ... Excellent ... And now if you would just help me by holding yourself so ..." He guided her fingers and to his surprise, although she flinched, she obeyed without a murmur, spreading the lips of her pussy and holding them open. Jane never even thought to protest. Her last barrier of modesty had crumbled long ago and for her, this was just another part of a shameful examination. She did, however, feel a distinct, familiar spurt of moisture in her pussy as she pressed down on her vulva. She watched with rising emotion as Wilbert-Brown's chubby fingers approach her slit and let out a small, involuntary sigh when they touched her. Wilbert-Brown glanced up sharply and she looked away. He fingered her clitoris in silence, intrigued by the ease of her cooperation. "Quinten, could you get a chair for Dr O'Reilley?" John sat down and as Jane turned towards him, she distractedly adjusted a hair-pin which had come loose. For a second the doctor remembered her as he had seen her at church the day before, a charming, demure young lady in a black bonnet and gloves, her dress buttoned up to her chin. He looked down embarrassed as she daintily lifted her foot onto the edge of his chair. Her toenails, he noted, were painted red. The pastor would never approve of that. Then his eyes flicked irresistibly to her crotch and watched her small fingers carefully part the slit and press down on each side until her lips were taut little pink cushions around the wet nub of her clitoris. Under Wilbert-Brown's instructions, John reached forward to touch the crinkled hood and expose the tiny, glistening red pyramid underneath. It was the first time in his life he had heard the word "clitoris". Nothing in his medical training or sexual experience had even hinted that such a thing could be part of a woman's anatomy. Wilbert-Brown went on and on about it but John was incapable of concentrating. His penis strained unbearably as his fingertips ran over Jane's soft, slick flesh and pressed on the tight little nub. Her hips reacted to his touch with tiny instinctive movements, jerking back when he moved too brusquely. He glanced up and noticed she was biting her lower lip. The tips of her fingers pressing on her vulva were white with the pressure. Wilbert-Brown cleared his throat loudly and O'Reilley finally glanced round. "I think that's conclusive enough, don't you John?" the old doctor smiled. He stood up and took Jane's arm, guiding her back to the table. " I'm pleased to say, Miss Clayton, that it looks as if there are virtually no serious sequels to your problem. I'd just like one final check and then we'll be finished." He helped her to hitch back up onto the mattress. "Quinten, could you retrieve the cushion that got lost in our little battle a few minutes ago?" Jane lay back in a haze of shame and erotic confusion, passively letting Quinten draw up her knees and arrange the cushion under her hips so that her pelvis was tipped upwards. She kept her legs shut, but guessed what was coming. Her heart began to race when Wilbert-Brown stepped up and placed his hands on her thighs. "Surely you are not still embarrassed, Miss Clayton? Come now, open your legs, my dear." Jane parted her knees with a nervous sigh. "As wide as you can without feeling uncomfortable." The doctor pressed gently on her thighs until they were spread almost at right angles to her body. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, blood pounding in her ears. Wilbert-Brown looked down at her, deeply impressed. His stubby prick ached with an erection which had refused to ease off for the past twenty minutes, and the sight of Jane splayed naked in front of him, the swollen lips of her cunt stickily parted, all made it significantly worse. He shook himself. Patience. He reached down and placed his finger at the gleaming entrance of her vagina. He heard Jane draw in her breath sharply but she said nothing. The tip of his finger pushed inside. Her vagina contracted slightly but was not exceptionally tight. He pushed in more deeply and encountered no resistance, no sign of a hymen. "John, would you give me a second opinion?", his eyes twinkled as he looked at his colleague. O'Reilley carefully inserted a long finger between her soft, oily lips and penetrated deep inside. He added a second finger. It was a snug fit but not that tight. "You're not a virgin, are you, Miss Clayton?" he asked bluntly. Jane blushed to the roots of her hair. "No" she answered in a small voice. "When was the last time you had intercourse?" "Five years ago" she replied in a whisper. "We were engaged. He died in the Crimea." Wilbert-Brown stroked his whiskers and moved away, apparently troubled by the information. There was a heavy silence, punctuated only by the occasional mutter from the old doctor as he paced up and down. O'Reilley waited, his fingers still deep in Jane's moist vagina. He had started to remove them, but her hips had moved so sensually as he did so that he had pushed back inside. Wilbert-Brown finally returned and looked down at Jane. "Miss Clayton", he began quietly, "I don't mean to meddle in your private life and especially in events which may be painful to you. But you must realise that you are now in significant danger. By losing your virginity, you set off a process in your body that must be continued, otherwise it will work insidiously against you, as your habit of masturbation proves. A woman of your age, with your past, requires frequent penetration simply to maintain her own physical and mental health. Do you understand that?" "Yes" whispered Jane, much too disturbed by the sensation of O'Reilley's fingers moving inside her to listen closely to what he was saying. "I appreciate that in our Christian society, that is hardly possible outside marriage," Wilbert-Brown continued, "but it can be done medically. In your case, a few sessions of treatment should suffice." He signalled to O'Reilley to remove his fingers and replaced them with his own, his free hand resting lightly on her breast. "Miss Clayton, please, open your eyes and look at me. No, no, keep your legs apart for the moment." Jane looked up a little bewildered at the doctor's round, kindly face with it's bristling white whiskers. "You must understand, my dear, that unlike your girls, I cannot cure your habit of masturbation by simple methods. We must train your body to find pleasure only from a man and renew the process you unwisely set off too early. Is that clear?" As he spoke, he casually searched for her clitoris and began to rub the tip with a light, circular motion. Jane felt an intense glow of pleasure and tried desperately to concentrate on what he was saying. "The damage you have done to yourself is fortunately not too advanced and I'm confident that after a few sessions you'll be right as rain. But the treatment will only work if I have your complete cooperation. Do you agree to that?" He squeezed her breast, rubbing the nipple firmly between his thumb and forefinger, sending a jolt of pleasure down her spine. "Yes Sir" whispered Jane, her eyes wide. "Very well." He took out his pocket watch. "We have a little over half an hour ahead of us. That should be just enough time. Quinten, could you prepare Miss Clayton?" Jane lay back, her heart beating wildly. What had the doctor said, what were they going to do? The strange, pale boy loomed over her, his carefully parted hair and thin moustache as precise as a bank clerk's. He produced a small phial of oil and sprinkled a few drops in a neat line between her breasts and down her belly. Jane gasped, instinctively closing her knees and trying to cover herself. Quinten just smiled, placed his hands on her stomach and began a long, firm caress down her body. He repeated the gesture five, six times, until she began to relax, then gently took her wrists and placed her arms by her sides. O'Reilley looked on, intrigued and vaguely shocked as the boy took one of Jane's breasts in both hands and squeezed hard, his thumbs travelling slowly up to the taut nipple. This was no longer even a pretence of anything medical, Quinten was deliberately arousing her like a, like a ... O'Reilley searched for an example in his limited sexual experience ... like a eunuch in a harem. Jane, he noted with faint disgust, was obviously enjoying it. She was. As Quinten's hands caressed and massaged her, her body seemed to melt slowly into a limp, erotic mass. She had never felt anything like it and was totally at a loss to know what to do or even think. All she knew was that the dark, disturbing sensation in her belly was spreading through her entire body and that she wanted more. She felt Quinten's hand touch lightly but insistently on her thighs and let them fall open. His palm cupped her vulva and squeezed. O'Reilley watched fascinated as Quinten's long, effeminate fingers began to rub up and down on Jane's swollen pussy. It was an extraordinary gesture, something he would never have imagined. He was even more surprised to hear Jane begin moaning softly, her hips moving in time with the boy's caresses. He was so absorbed by the spectacle that he hardly noticed Quinten unbuttoning his flies with his free hand and it was only when the boy drew out a pale, curved erection that he suddenly realised what was happening. "What the devil!" he exclaimed. Wilbert-Brown shot him a warning glance to be quiet and nodded at Quinten. O'Reilley stared incredulously as the boy took Jane's limp wrist and guided it until her hand brushed against his cock. Her fingers curled automatically around the shaft and for a moment she held it loosely. Then suddenly her eyes flew open and she jerked back her hand as if she had been burnt. "No!" she cried, half sitting up, "what are you doing!" "Come, come, Miss Clayton!" Wilbert-Brown stepped up quickly. "None of this nonsense. You have agreed to treatment and I expect your complete cooperation." "No!" she wept, "you can't do this." "Miss Clayton, will you please lie back!" "No. I want to go. Let me go." Wilbert-Brown sighed. She'd been doing so well. He hated to resort to blackmail in such circumstances, but if he had to, so be it. "Very well, young woman." His voice was irritated and icy, "you're free to do as you please. However, I must point out that if I am to cure your girls of masturbation over the coming weeks, it is essential that their housemistress be above reproach physically and mentally." He paused deliberately "And I don't see how that will be possible if you do not accept treatment." His words sank in and Jane suddenly realised she was trapped. Mrs Harmsworth would instantly dismiss her if Wilbert-Brown told her everything he knew. And if she were dismissed for masturbation and loose morals, she would probably never get another job. She searched desperately for an answer but none came. "Please don't." she wept hopelessly. "Jane, Jane, stop this now." Wilbert-Brown said a little more gently, "I have told you before, and I will tell you again. I can only cure you if you learn to associate pleasure with a man's penis, and considering your past, for the moment that must include" he stressed carefully, "penetration. Is that quite clear? If not, in a few years time, you will end up in a madhouse. I have seen it happen many times." Jane stared at him, seriously frightened. "But I can't ... you can't ... It's a mortal sin!" she said in a small, shaky voice. Wilbert-Brown looked at her sternly. "As I understand it, Miss Clayton, when it comes to sin, you have committed fornication and have been defiling your body ever since. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not blaming you and there are many, many women in your situation, more than you would dream of. But it is my duty to treat you and I intend to do so to the best of my professional knowledge. I just want you to get well, this has nothing to do with morality or immorality. Do you understand?" Jane nodded doubtfully. Wilbert-Brown smiled. "I also want you to enjoy it. Otherwise the treatment simply will not work. And you do enjoy it, don't you, my dear?" Jane blushed unhappily, then her eyes clouded. "I must not get pregnant." she whispered. Wilbert-Brown patted her shoulder. "Of course not. I am a doctor and I do know what I'm doing. Trust me. Now, could you please lie down again? And just hold Quinten while he takes care of you." Jane closed her eyes and lay back, deeply confused. Everything her education had ever taught her was urging her to get up and run, but her fingertips touched the soft skin of Quinten's cock, and the moment he put his hand back on her vulva a deep, erotic desire surged back powerfully through her body. Curiously, it felt cleaner, less shameful than before. This was not her fault, just a treatment. She let her legs open wider. "Come, John." said Wilbert-Brown, turning to his colleague. "I have something to show you." "You're not seriously going to have intercourse with the woman?" O'Reilley said to Wilbert-Brown as soon as they were out of earshot. "Of course I am. It will do her the world of good. And so will you, young man. Brandy or whisky?" O'Reilley blanched. "But it's totally immoral. I would be thrown out of the profession if anyone found out." Wilbert-Brown sighed. These young doctors. They never understood when they were on to a good thing. "Brandy or whisky, John?" "Whisky, please." The good doctor served out two generous glasses and settled into a deep leather armchair before replying to his agitated colleague. Science at St Mary's "Do you realise that almost ninety percent of the women in the civilised classes suffer from ailments induced by masturbation, John?" O'Reilley started in surprise, "Surely not." "Unhappily so. Apparently their husbands have not the slightest idea of how to release their sexual tension, and the poor women spend thousands of pounds on ineffectual cures. All that I do is to use the methods intended by nature, and they work." O'Reilley frowned, feeling vaguely guilty at his own wife's hypochondria but determined not to show it. "I'm sorry, Wilbert-Brown, it remains totally immoral." Wilbert-Brown shrugged and sipped at his whisky. "Medicine is a science, my friend, not a dogma. An efficient cure remains an efficient cure whatever the pulpit thumpers have to say about it." "Perhaps. But morality still guides the hand of the judge." "John, please, think for a moment. Yes, there have been awkward moments, but in front of a court of law, whose voice counts? The respected doctor's or the hysterical woman's? In ten years of practice with these methods, I have had two complaints and neither even reached the courts. On the contrary, my reputation has grown considerably in both Edinburgh and London, as you know." O'Reilley swilled his whisky, at a loss for an answer. Wilbert-Brown leaned forward and patted his knee. "Buck up, John. I understand your reticence, but snap out of it. There's work to be done." The old doctor got up heavily and took a box from his briefcase. "This is what I wanted to show you, the best sheathes in Christendom. I have them imported specially from France. Nothing like those terrible things made of gut that the soldiers use on campaign abroad. One hundred percent certified for medical use, guaranteed to avoid all transmission of venereal disease or pregnancy. I couldn't practice medicine without them." John O'Reilley stared at the neat row of black rubber sheaths in the box in front of him and felt a simultaneous surge in his penis and a twinge of conscience for his wife. "They're all the same size but should adjust unless you're exceptionally large." said Wilbert-Brown, his eyes twinkling. "Just take one." O'Reilley carefully took the closest to him, surprised at it's lightness and transparency. Then he looked up and was appalled to see that Wilbert-Brown had opened his flies to expose his own stubby penis, his pubic hair as white and bristly as his whiskers, and was rolling the object professionally down the shaft. "You should see your face, John. You look as prudish as a sixteen-year-old virgin!" The old doctor grinned. "Get on with it!" "In a minute, if you don't mind." John replied, reddening. "Suit yourself." Wilbert-Brown shrugged, and moved off, his black phallus bobbing absurdly under his portly belly. "So, how's our pretty patient getting on?" the doctor cheerfully asked Quinten. "Not too badly, Sir," the boy smiled. "So I see." Wilbert-Brown chuckled. Jane body glistened with oil and sweat, her thighs wide and her hips straining as Quinten worked two fingers in her vagina, his free hand gently massaging her clit. She gripped his cock tightly, just under the purple head. "Excellent. Shift her down, would you?" Jane groaned as Quinten withdrew his fingers and scooped her up. She'd let herself drift off into her old fantasy of Viking raiders and for the first time she actually saw their cocks in her mind, great knobbly spikes thrusting at her. Under her imaginative fingertips, Quinten's penis seemed twice its real size, a long, curved ramrod with a curious silky head that would soon drive inside her. She half opened her eyes as he put her down, her hips on the edge of the table, and caught sight of Wilbert Brown with his broad handlebar moustache and immense belly carefully adjusting his penis between her thighs. She closed her eyes again, instantly replacing the vision by her blonde warrior in furs. A thick shaft pushed hard against her. Wilbert-Brown held Jane's legs high, easing his cock deep inside the velvet grip of her cunt. "An excellent job" he thought to himself, "roundly executed." It was always a delicate business getting a woman to agree, especially a young, morally upright girl like Miss Clayton. It was also extremely rare to get this far on a first session, but after intimately inspecting the breasts and pussies of 23 senior girls under the disapproving gaze of Nurse Wilson, he had sorely needed relief. Miss Clayton had proved a perfect subject, and with a bit of luck would continue to do so throughout his stay in this godforsaken backwater of the Scottish highlands. He picked up the speed of his thrusts, savouring the tight, wet warmth around his cock. Jane moaned softly as the doctor fucked her, her hand searching blindly to grip Quinten's shaft again. She missed his touch on her clit and tried to push his hand back under Wilbert-Brown's belly, but the boy freed himself with a simple twist of his wrist and reached up to brush his fingertips on her mouth. He played with her for a moment, watching her pretty lips purse under his touch, then pushed forward, sliding a finger into her mouth. Jane tasted the strange salty flavour of her sex and rocked her head to get free of him, but the boy insisted, his finger pumping slowly in rhythm with the fat cock in her cunt. She sucked tentatively and the fire in her belly suddenly built in intensity. When O'Reilley approached, the black sheath painfully constricting his considerable penis, he had never seen anything so explicitly obscene in his life. Jane's exquisite head was tipped back in an unruly mass of black curls, her red mouth closed hungrily around Quinten's finger, her thighs split wide by Wilbert-Brown thrusting vigorously inside her and her hand opening and clenching repeatedly around the boy's cock. She moaned and writhed like an animal and O'Reilley felt a sudden surge of confident power. For all her moral pretensions, the woman was a harlot. He'd been stupid to be so reserved about fucking her. He could do what he liked. He tapped Wilbert-Brown on the shoulder. "May I?" The old doctor looked at him sharply, amazed at O'Reilley's presumption. "Of course not! Get a hold of yourself, doctor." John stepped back, deeply embarrassed. Wilbert-Brown shrugged off his irritation and concentrated back on his work. As far as he could tell, Jane was not that far from an orgasm. He reached under his belly, searching for the fat lips of her vulva, and was gratified to see her body tense and her stifled moans pick up as he rubbed firmly around her clitoris. On cue, Quinten pinched one of her nipples hard and stuffed a second finger into Jane's mouth. Wilbert-Brown thrust quickly, evenly, watching her back arch higher and higher until she let out a long, thin wail and suddenly collapsed. Her vagina contracted in spasms around his shaft and he calmly moved in and out until she had relaxed again, then picked up his pace until his own cock began to pulse inside her. The good doctor finally withdrew and turned to O'Reilley. "All yours now, John." He glanced at O'Reilley's prick, the sheath hardly three quarters of the way down the shaft. "Go gently." O'Reilley bent his knees to aim at Jane's soaking pussy but he was much too tall. Quinten obligingly made the young teacher turn over, helping her to get up onto her knees and arch her broad white buttocks. For a moment O'Reilley hesitated. In his education, only whores and savages could be fucked from behind, but when he thought about it, that suited her well. The little harlot would get exactly what she deserved. He stepped up and adjusted her arse, spreading her thighs and running a finger down her slit to free the stray curl of pubic hair. Then he guided the head of his cock to her vagina and pushed forward, watching the skin stretch as he forced inside her. Jane gasped and opened her eyes wide. He was considerably bigger than Wilbert-Brown, or Damian, her fiancé, all those years ago. This really was a Viking raider, and it hurt. She held her breath and gritted her teeth as he pushed deeper. It was bearable as long as he advanced progressively, easing out a little from time to time, but when he got impatient and began to shove forward unrelentingly, she cried out in real pain. Wilbert-Brown was instantly by her side. "Gently, John" he said to O'Reilley, "She is almost a virgin. Please, try this." He handed Quinten's bottle of oil across to his colleague and O'Reilley took it grudgingly, annoyed with the interference. Still, he obediently withdrew his cock and smeared it with oil before returning to the dark, dilated hole between Jane's legs. He thrust back in much more easily and gripped the young teacher's hips for a long, slow, regular fuck. Jane let it happen, hugging her elbows in tight, her cheek pressed against the mattress and her arse arched like a cat in heat to open as wide as she could. The pain eased after a minute or so into a steady, dull ache that she found was not entirely unpleasant. The impression of being split in two had it's own strange pleasure and the piston forcing itself in and out of her belly chaffed and irritated a dark erotic thrill beyond the pain. O'Reilley looked down contemptuously at the prostrated woman and thrust his hips vigorously. The pale star of her anus was clearly visible between her spread buttocks and the whorled lips of her cunt clung lightly to his glistening shaft each time he pulled back. He gripped her arse in both hands, letting the tip of his thumb touch her crinkled star and felt the familiar itch at the base of his cock when he was about to come. O'Reilley slipped his thumb forward until it was resting in the exact centre then pushed down. Jane's sphincter opened easily, the double ring of muscles clamping around him. Suddenly O'Reilley remembered that he was not alone and looked up guiltily. Wilbert-Brown was on the other side of the room, rinsing his cock, but Quinten had clearly seen what had happened. Their eyes met, but there was not a trace of expression on the boy's pale face. John suddenly felt deeply irritated by him. He glanced down at the thin, curved erection that still jutted out of Quinten's flies and ostentatiously forced his own thick cock into Jane with a faint, mocking smile. She drew in her breath sharply and cried out, but Quinten remained unimpressed. O'Reilley began to thrust angrily, piqued by the boy's nonchalance, and Jane wailed in earnest. A few seconds later, the doctor's prick throbbed and suddenly released a great jet of sperm. It went on and on, filling the sheath like an obscene, milky balloon. He withdrew, vaguely disgusted with himself, and headed for the basin and jug of water in the far corner of the room. Jane collapsed onto the mattress. Her vagina burned and she groaned when Quinten made her roll over onto her back. "Please be gentle." she whispered. The boy smiled with genuine warmth. "It'll be fine, Miss, don't you worry." He carefully fitted a sheath and covered it with oil, then gently pushed her legs apart. "The great, clumsy fool," he muttered to himself, noting how she flinched when he touched her swollen pussy. The absolute rule in his work with Wilbert-Brown, one which the doctor insisted on, was that the patient's pleasure came first. "If they enjoy it, they'll be back for more and the treatment will work." Wilbert-Brown repeated frequently, "And if not, we could all be in serious trouble." Quinten had learned a lot about female pleasure while assisting the doctor and found he had a gift for it. He guessed that Jane was still fairly aroused and her earlier climax could probably be coaxed back into life. He had also noticed a tiny, sensual reaction to O'Reilley thumb, a slight movement of her lips and flutter of her eyelids which intrigued him. Jane felt a drop of oil fall on her pussy and trickle down the cleft of her buttocks, then Quinten's clever fingers smoothing it onto her skin. As they circled slowly down to her anus, a dark thrill of pleasure quickly built up inside her. She knew that sodomy was a criminal offence, but she was long past caring and the invasion of O'Reilley's thumb had been the most erotic thing the man had done to her. She eased her hips forward and let her mind drift back to her fantasy of a wattle hut on the Scottish coast, a Viking long boat in the bay, her uncle dead and a warrior with horns on his helmet lifting her skirt. Quinten's penis nuzzled against the puckered pink star and pushed firmly. It parted much more easily than he had expected. His cock travelled forward, the tight band of muscles running slowly down the length of his shaft. On the other side of the room, O'Reilley soaped his flaccid cock feeling distinctly put out. He glanced back at Quinten and Jane on the consulting table with a twinge of jealousy. The woman's moans were rising to a crescendo with much more evident pleasure than she ever had with him. He looked again and it seemed to him that Jane's legs were raised unnaturally high, her arse half lifted off the mattress. "Shouldn't ..." he began, but Wilbert-Brown cut him off. "Don't worry, John, no one can hear." He steered his colleague to the drinks cabinet. "How about another whisky?" Quinten was now moving in and out of Jane's arse as smoothly as if he had been in her pussy. He looked admiringly at her pretty face tilted back in a mass of sweat-soaked ringlets, her small teeth repeatedly biting her lower lip as she panted with short, sharp little cries, her magnificent heaving breasts and belly glazed with a sheen of oil. Wilbert-Brown, he thought, not for the first time, is a genius. The magic of fucking a respectable woman on the consulting table never failed to surprise him, although it happened several times a week in the doctor's flourishing Edinburgh practice. They were rarely as pretty as Jane and chances for anal sex were even rarer, Wilbert-Brown was particularly prudent on the question. But for Quinten, there was a particularly sharp pleasure when his cock eased into the arse of a lady who normally wouldn't even look at him, and as he seemed to have a sixth sense for the ones who would like it, he had never got into trouble. For a moment he raised Jane's thighs to catch a quick, intoxicating glimpse of her pale skin stretched around his shaft, then he reached down to caress her clitoris, savouring the tight grip at the base of his penis while his balls slapped against her buttocks. Jane was lost in a confused mass of fantasy and memory. Damian in her bedroom insisting while her parents' muffled voices came up from the lower floor; an Arab tying her naked to the wall of a prison and running the handle of his whip down the cleft of her arse; her uncle Tom teaching her to ride a pony. She reached down to stretch the skin of her vulva as Quinten caressed her and felt a massive orgasm building in her belly. Her sphincter tightened hard around Quinten, his fingers danced on her clit, and she suddenly peaked, the orgasm boiling over and seizing her entire body from the roots of her hair to the curled tips of her toes. She was still contracting repeatedly when she felt Quinten's cock begin to spurt inside her. Wilbert-Brown walked across to the consulting table, pulling on a thick cigar and warming his brandy in the palm of his hand. Jane was slowly catching her breath, her exhausted body spread-eagled on the mattress, nipples still tight, the red, swollen lips of her cunt jutting crudely from the matted curls of her pussy. The doctor noticed a slight, circular swelling around her anus. He would have to speak to Quinten. This was much too dangerous. But he had to admit, the boy was damnably efficient! He gently shook Jane's shoulder, and she opened her eyes. "It's almost half-past four, Miss Clayton. I think you should get dressed." He smiled at her kindly. He was always pleased when his techniques worked and Jane was truly a magnificent subject. "Half past four? I should have been in class half an hour ago ..." Jane was suddenly on her feet collecting her things. "Don't worry, I believe classes have been cancelled this afternoon. In any case, no one came to find you." "I should hope not!" she replied, her eyes wide. Wilbert-Brown laughed. Quinten helped her back into her various petticoats, proving quite as efficient as a housemaid, and there was an easy physical complicity between them that Jane would never have dreamed of only a couple of hours earlier. Her sense of shame had evaporated. All she felt was curiously light-hearted and ravenously hungry. Wilbert-Brown strolled towards them. "We'll be staying here for the next ten days, Miss Clayton. I think it would be advisable to have a session of treatment once a day for that time." "Every day!" murmured Jane, hurrying to button up her dress. "Isn't that a bit much for my nervous system?" Wilbert-Brown laughed. She finished combing her hair into approximate shape and reached for her bonnet. "I don't know. We will speak tomorrow." And she rushed out, tying up the ribbons as she went. "A remarkable young lady!" sighed Wilbert-Brown as he sat down opposite Dr O'Reilley. "And a remarkable afternoon!" the younger doctor replied. "My complements on your technique!" "I'm not sure how to take that comment," replied Wilbert-Brown with a raised eyebrow. "Come, come, Wilbert-Brown. Did you really spot that Jane masturbates before she told you?" The older doctor chuckled. "Not exactly. Her clitoris at any rate is perfectly normal. But she made such a fuss, I made what turned out to be a lucky guess. And we now have an interesting patient!" O'Reilley stood up. "Perhaps I should be going too." "Oh? Won't you wait? We are expecting Miss Larchburn in a few minutes. And I believe Miss Haynes will be coming at six." The idea of inspecting the naked body of blonde Miss Larchburn, the music teacher, set John's penis stirring again. And Cynthia Haynes had a truly magnificent bosom. He sat down again and reached for the whisky. ______________ Author's note : There is in fact a historical basis to all this. Nineteenth century medicine was convinced of the evils of masturbation. At the same time, it was perfectly acceptable for many doctors to masturbate their female patients as a cure for nervous tension (the vibrator was invented for precisely this purpose, but a little later than the period in which this story is set!). Penetration, however, of any sort, even digital, was a hotly debated moral/medical issue. Sex at the time was vaginal, the clitoris an anecdote. Did any Victorian doctor go as far as Wilbert-Brown? It's not unlikely. The appliance of science is a considerable source of power ...