Resignation Letter

[save_marla]

May 01, 1873




Dear Mr. Bryden,

We have discussed, at length, your wife Camille’s unfortunate condition - quite frankly, the most disturbing case of female hysteria I have ever diagnosed. In my confidence, Mrs. Bryden has confessed to experiencing headaches, melancholy, aggression, depression, and lower abdominal heaviness, muscle pains and other discomfort. For three months I have visited your home biweekly to treat your wife with sessions of pelvic massage - sessions which typically last up to an hour at a time. Meanwhile I have patients with legitimate ailments to attend, as your wife’s stubborn disposition thwarts all my efforts in treating her.

My recommendations that she be admitted posthaste to an asylum have been all but ignored, and now I hear through local gossip that you have contacted a Dr. Swift of California for his assistance. Let me advise you as a professional and as a friend that his methods are a topic of serious controversy within the medical community. Widely criticized is his use of electric, musculo-skeletal relaxation devices, which have been neither thoroughly researched on the sane, nor patented in the United States. While I understand your frustration at your wife’s apparent inability to reach hysterical paroxysm and relieve her symptoms, I must strongly advise you against pursuing Dr. Swift’s radical alternatives to traditional treatment.

However, as your wife seems to have reached a plateau in her convalescence, I feel the need to relieve you of my services in order to see to more urgent medical cases.

You may deliver the remainder of my fee to the address enclosed.

Kind regards,


James Van Everett, M.D.




OOC: I am looking for a Dr. Swift, and - if there is any interest - a husband. PM me if interested.

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[save_marla]

bump

*bumps* for the night.

 

[save_marla]

*bumps again*

 

[poohlive]

Dear Mr. Bryden,


I was very pleased with our correspondance during the last few weeks. Let me first say most candedly that I would enjoy the opportunity to help your wife. Her case is very rare, and I understand that the most normal of procedures and operations will simply not work on her.

I have dealt, in my last ten years upon femaly hysteria exclusively, and am able to effectively treat the most abnormal cases. Here in my personal santorum, there is an 85 percent recovery rate. Believe me when I say this will be best for your wife. She will get the treatment she deserves.

Enclosed is our address, and papers for registration into Shady Oak Santorum. We offer a minimal starting fee, that you will not be asked for until you see results with your wife. In the case of privacy, I must state that after she is part of our asylum, you may not speak to her. Part of the therapy is to isolate her from friends and loved ones. They are often a burden instead of an ally.

I look forward to seeing your wife, and treating her in my own special way. I do promise you Mr. Bryden she will receive personal care from me exclusively. The most experimental of procedures will be done to ensure her swift recovery.

Until we meet,

Doctor Jason M Swift.

 

[save_marla]

David rose, a bit unsteadily, from his seat as the train pulled to a slow halt, and opened the doors to exit their private car, leaving Camille to struggle shakily after him as their man saw to the luggage. She'd been ill for the duration of the trip, but now that they'd arrived at their destination, she felt no relief. She knew little about this sanatorium and the type of treatments offered here. She was not at all convinced, as David seemed to be, that coming to stay here would result in a definitive cure to her condition. Indeed, her previous physician, Dr. Everett, had several times, in sheer exasperation, told her she was quite an incurable slattern.

She flushed slightly as she stepped onto the platform and scanned the crowd to find her husband. He stood near the station, shaking the hand of a man she did not recognize. Her hands clenched into anxious fists at her sides as the men turned to face her, and David motioned for her to join them. After a moment's hesitation, she crossed the platform to stand by her husband's side.

 

[poohlive]

Jason Swift stood as a tall strong man. He had a nice set of teeth, short crew cut hair, and sparkling blue eyes. He smiled, and when he did it seemed as if every part of his face smiled with him, except his eyes. His eyes refused to share that glee the rest of him showed off so well. Those eyes were always rather in deep thought, as if the sparkling blue of a current under the ocean, stirring and brewing the cold artic floor thousands of feet below them.

He shook the hand of one Mister Bryden, and saw his wife as she joined him by her side. He took a glance nothing more. He did not even register her existance.

"There is a car waiting," He motioned toward the parking lot. A single carriage stood there, and he helped with the luggage in the back.

"I think it is best if she comes along with me now. I will correspond with you twice a week about her condition, and as soon as she is better, I will allow visitors."

He gave her a condescending look, "This will be only temporary."

 

[save_marla]

Camille's mouth fell open in surprise as David nodded respectfully and turned to help her into the carriage. She felt her face crumpling in dismay - she knew how he hated that expression on her, but she could not contain herself. She gripped his arm and tried to delay being seated in the carriage, and at the same time, squeaked, "David...?"

He didn't look at her as he cheerfully tucked a lap robe around her hips and said briskly, "Don't fret sweetheart, I'll come and visit you as soon as Dr. Swift sends word." He punctuated his words with a chaste kiss on her forehead, and proceeded to the back of the carriage to ensure her luggage was secure.

She pressed her lips together to keep from protesting - David liked her to be a proper, dutiful wife, and she knew he was more than a little embarrassed about the severity of her disgraceful condition. If he thought this was for the best, she would try not to complain.

But she kept her eyes averted as Dr. Swift approached the carriage.

 

[poohlive]

"Good then. We will see you soon," He said, shaking the hand of the husband and seeing him back off to the train. He returned, piling up into the carriage. It got underway with the simple crack of a whip, as the driver pulled them out into the roadway.

He sat there, glancing over at the wife. Camille, here name was. He glanced down at his notes, taken from her last doctor and her husband's correspondance. He never spoke with her directly.

He never wanted to.

"So, tell me about the severity of your condition. We have a while before we get to my hospital. What should I expect from you? You are not going to be trouble, are you?"

 

[save_marla]

Her face flushed at the abrupt and direct nature of his questioning - she had not expected to discuss personal matters so immediately. Camille repressed the urge to demur, and strove to answer him honestly. This may be her last chance to get well, she reminded herself.

"I - I have been very restless and uncomfortable, especially in the evening hours before bed. I have been feverish and felt aches in my body and tossed and turned all night with the most lurid dreams.."

She lowered her eyes at his last question. Of course, Dr. Everett would have recorded his difficulty in treating her. "I...don't mean to be any trouble. I do want an end to this suffering, but I found the treatments very exhausting - it was so hard to concentrate on getting better..." Tears stung her eyes as she recalled her husband's disappointment, and she trailed off.

 

[poohlive]

He wrote down some of her words. The most important ones, at least. He did not seem that interested. She spoke pretty much what her husband and doctor said, she gave no opinion in the matter herself.

None that he respected.

"And tell me what treatment was used?" He asked, "Was there a pelvic massage treatment? What did he do to you? Better yet, lift up your dress, show me what he did."

Jason moved up from the seat in his carriage to close off the windows, giving them ample privacy.

"Please," He said, his tone forceful, "I wish to treat you as soon as possible. If you will not be cooperative, I am afraid I will need to take more forceful actions."

 

[save_marla]

Her eyelids fluttered - her heart fluttered - at his indecent suggestion, and Camille felt herself cringing away from him, slightly. Of course, she and Dr. Everett had come to deal with each other on similarly intimate terms, but -

" - In the carriage??" she blurted out incredulously.

But the doctor seemed utterly unperturbed as he moved to block the windows on one side, and on instinct she reached forward and pulled the shade down on the other. In this semi-privacy, she was able to collect herself somewhat, and she looked back at Dr. Swift with an expression of grim determination as she slowly lifted her skirt. This was horribly humiliating, but she wanted to show him that she was willing to try.

Her flesh prickled in that familiar uneasy sensation as she pushed down her underclothes, reluctantly exposing herself to him - in the carriage, like a common slut! Camille squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she let her fingertips linger in the heat between her thighs, and then tentatively plucked at the moist pink folds. She tried to remember the technique Dr. Everett had used, but she had not paid enough attention to his treatments. Under her hesitant fingers, the tender flesh swelled and ached sweetly, and she became more confident, pinching and tugging at herself. It made the ache worse, but she could never stop herself from tormenting her body like this.

She turned her face away from the doctor as her fingers moved deftly below her waist, and pressed her hot cheek into the cushioned seat of the carriage. Now he could finally see just how bad off she really was.

 

[poohlive]

She had been so hesitant, her legs barely spreading. He could see nothing, and her clothes, while out of the way, were stil around her body. Between lace and silk and cloth he only saw the small of her fingers as they touched and caressed carefully.

"No, this is all wrong," He thought. She was blushing under such a simple act. He was a doctor, after all. She had done this numerous times. Was something happening to her?

He pushed his hand in between her legs, strong, rude, forcing her hand out of the way as he ran a single finger along her slit. He could feel that trail of heat, moisture mixing up.

"Are you excited?" He accused her. He sighed, shaking his head, "This is worse than I thought. No wonder the treatment did not work. You enjoy it as much as a common whore. This worked no better for you than going out and rutting in the street."

He changed positions, getting down on the floor, and forcing her clothing off of her legs.

"First we need to be able to first see the problem," He spoke, calmly, securely. He ripped away at her undergarments. Lace, panties, silken shorts, all of them coming off of her legs. Then the skirt as well. He grabbed at it, not caring for her concern as he pushed it off of her body, showing simply her underneath.

She had on a single slip, and little else. He thought of taking that too, but decided against it. She must have something to remember her modesty as a wife.

"Now, you open yourself up," He forced her legs apart, much farther than before. He spread them wide, lewd, making her sit where he could easily fit a person twice his size between her. He could see her exposed sex now. His eyes were all over her.

"That is a very beautiful cunt," He said, his voice flat, as his fingers began to explore.

"Now, there are two general practices. Inside or outside. Did your doctor touch upon the clit to achieve hysterical paroxysm?"

He flicked roughly against her clit, to emphasize the point.

"Or did he go inside of you? A much dirtier prospect, given your apparent fetish of it, but it does reach better results..."

He dipped his finger inside, and pressed hard against her little g spot, eyes looking up at her, not romantically or lustfully. Those dull sparkling eyes of a doctor who could just as easily been asking her about foot pain.

"Well?"

His finger still throbbed inside of her.

 

[save_marla]

Her eyes flew open, staring in wide-eyed horror at him as his hand slapped hers away and he pushed his searching fingers between her legs. She shuddered as she felt his foreign touch, his fingers dipping between her moist lips in a way that felt sinful. She covered her face with her hands and uttered a weak moan as he confirmed her worst fears - she was no better than a writhing street whore.

Camille let her body go limp in her despair, sniffling, and though she was aware of the doctor briskly undressing her and forcing her legs obscenely wide, she did nothing to stop him. Only when she heard his crass comment did she lift her head to look at him curiously. Even her husband did not use such vile language.

She tried to pull her legs together, but he held them apart. She didn't understand what he was saying - Dr. Everett had never spoken to her about his methods - but he earned her full attention when he flicked a finger nastily against her most sensitive spot. For the briefest moment, she felt a crude pleasure, but the paroxysm of pain that followed flooded her senses and made her cry out.

Camille felt herself struggling, fighting against him and trying to pull away, but he used her own weakness against her, and held her still. She could not comprehend his questions, she was too completely focused on squirming away from him, keeping his probing fingers out. Dr. Everett had at least respected her husband's property, and had never entered her body. This was a nightmare!

She trembled and whimpered as his thick finger slid into her, and twisted and squirmed, trying to expel him. Still, she could not control the heat rising in her, the rush of excitement, even as her muscles twitched at the pleasure-pain of his invasion. A tear slid down her cheek as she looked down at him. "No - he - Dr. Everett never put anything inside me."

 

[poohlive]

"That might explain a few things," He said, nodding down to her wicked little cunt. What is that he felt? The warmth of her body radiated from his finger, as he wiggled it inside of her. She had a heated core, and he watched as beads of juice ran down her wide spread thighs.

He picked them up, showing them to her, "This is I think why Dr. Everett never got anywhere. There is no therapy if you are going to act like some common whore giving herself away? Does this turn you on? Are you enjoying my finger deep inside of you, fucking whore?"

He pushed his finger up to her, under her nose, against her lips. Let her taste that foul stench on her, let her see what she was turning into.

"Would it feel better if I paid you?" He reached down, getting his wallet, pulling out bills of money and throwing them at her. One landed on her breast.

"There, now you are a common whore, taking money for my touch."

He pushed inside of her, roughly, two fingers pressing deep inside of her common folds. Her dirty cunt opened up for him, he forced her legs out wide as he began pressing against her g spot, rubbing it fiercely.

 

[save_marla]

Camille felt the hot tears dripping down her cheeks as she writhed under this humiliating treatment. Every doctor she’d ever consulted for her various ailments had granted her some dignity, and had never crossed the line between physician and common brute. Dr. Swift was only the second man who had ever touched her so intimately – and her husband had certainly never treated her so roughly.

She tried again to pull her legs together, as if that might stop him. Even as she moaned at his indecent questioning, she could feel her hot, wet sex swelling and the flesh growing tender under this assault. She moaned and whined and tossed her head from side to side, murmuring, “No…no, not enjoying it…please, doctor!”

She jerked her face away, but he followed her with his slick finger, lingering under her nose, then pushing between her tight lips until she could taste the animal juices he’d collected. She flinched and sniveled in the corner of the coach, his paper money fluttering around her before he forced her open again, driving into her with no grace.

Camille wept as she felt a strange, rich sensation smoldering inside her, and she covered her face and shook her head from side to side, striking at him uselessly with her clenched fists. “Please…” she gasped shakily, as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her, “Please doctor – not here, n-not in the carriage…”

 

[poohlive]

He worked his fingers hard into her, thrusting with some god awful speed that only whores would enjoy. She beat him, lightly, her legs trying to come closed together, not very hard though. It was as if she only tried to stop him because that is what a proper girl should do.

She didn't really want him to stop. And then he heard her plea, the quiver in her voice, no longer begging him to stop, but threatening of something else to come.

"Are you going to orgasm?"

He had only just started this treatment, hysterical paroxysm can take hours to achieve. This wasn't paroxism though, this was just her getting herself off.

"You better not cum, you better not enjoy this, like some fucking whore. Is that it, I give you money, and all of a sudden you can't wait to spill this whole carriage with your dirty juices."

He stuck his fingers inside of her deeper, clinging, clawing at her supple pink walls, which just seemed to grip him, urge him further, clamp up and drive him deep inside. He pulled up against her, grabbed her hair with his other hand, brought her close enough to kiss.

"Stop it," He ordered her, hissing through his teeth, "Have some common decency, you are covered in your own juices, have money on you, and are acting like a common street harlot, and now you'll cum during a medical examination? Don't cum..."

His eyes were hateful, his fingers continued to pile into her, as close as they were she could feel his hard body, skin against hers.

"Don't..."

 

[save_marla]

“No no no…no – please!” she wailed helplessly as he continued his vicious assault – physical and verbal. His words shocked her as deeply as his prying fingers, that he would see her in such a sordid light – was she really behaving like a common whore? A terrible shudder rocked her body, almost pleasurably, as she thought of what her friends would think, to see her behaving like this, what her husband would think…

Then the doctor grabbed her by the hair, making her look at him, pushing his fingers even deeper into her – he was treating her like a slut, had she unwittingly given him some cue, that this was appropriate?

She closed her eyes – she couldn’t bear the scowl on his face as he berated her for acting this way, but even as she cringed at her indecent behavior, she could feel her body thrumming with a strange, all-encompassing sensation she had never felt before. When he pressed up against her, warning her again not to disgrace herself, the weight of his body crushing her, his scent filling her nose, his relentless fingers working her expertly, Camille felt her body take over. She had no power to stop the convulsions that wracked her frame, contorting her small body into the most obscene positions. She moaned and gasped as wave after wave of unbearable pleasure flooded her senses, and a new, powerful urge began to overwhelm her.

Her eyes flew open again – she must not – must NOT –

But it was as useless to try to rein in this instinctual reaction as any of the others. To her complete mortification, Camille felt the hot spray of liquid jetting from her body, soaking the doctor – and in spite of it all, her hips were bouncing, thrusting up towards him like a lusty tramp.

As her body heaved in the aftermath, she dissolved into horrified tears, his fingers still in her, and tried in vain to pull her clothing back up around her.

 

[poohlive]

He waited until her climax abated. Until the flesh of her body stopped writhing in that liquid high she had just felt. His fingers inside of her, still and thick. She would cling to them, and then grind against them, milking his fingers as if it was a big fat cock and she wanted his seed.

It wasn't until she was done, and began to cry that he took out his fingers, sick and disgusted at her. He took out a towel, cleaning himself off. She had sprayed all over him, his shirt practically drenched. He took it off as well, putting it next to her clothing.

She looked embarrassed, trying to put her clothing back on. He grabbed them from her, opening the window and throwing them out.

"No common whore gets to dress up like a proper lady in my watch."

She had on nothing more than a slip. A used wet slip, drenched with cum and her own sweat from what she had done. It was now see thru, with all of the juices on it. He could see hardened nipples and her still dripping cunt.

"I had known it was a rare case, but I did not think it would be this bad."

He took out a notebook and began writing, oblivious to her in the coach. He stood opposite of her, ignoring her as notes were taken down.

"You are a special case. Your husband wants you to return, and yet all you can think of is these whorish and sinful thoughts. What do you think of when you cum? Why do you feel the need to display yourself like this? To degrade yourself as a proper woman never should?"

 

[save_marla]

Camille watched in tearful silence as Dr. Swift toweled off, and pulled open his clinging wet shirt. She turned her face away as he took it off, exposing so much skin, and realized again her own indecent state. She broke out of her despondency and sat up as soon as she saw that he was about to toss her traveling clothes out the window, and tried to prevent him, but she was not nearly fast enough.

Sitting back uneasily, her dirty wet slip barely concealing her nakedness, and watched him writing in his notebook again. Unable to contain herself, she whined suddenly, “Doctor? Am I to arrive at the sanitorium – like this? Please, won’t you allow me to retrieve some of my things from the trunk?”

He seemed not to have heard her, lost in his diagnosis. When he spoke, it was to confirm her worst fears, and she grimaced under his tactless questioning.

“I - I don’t think sinful thoughts, doctor…I don’t - I’m not able to think of anything, when it happens. It’s as though my body has a mind of its own, and I am carried along helplessly at its whim…”

She glanced down, ashamed of her lack of control, and noticed that her breasts were quite visible through the wet slip. She brought her arms up to cover her chest. “And I - don’t wish to expose myself…" She looked up at him, and continued more confidently, "Which is why, if you’ll just let me get some things from the trunk, and dress myself properly…please, doctor.”

 

[poohlive]

"No, your clothes will be locked up as soon as we get to the sanitorium. I will not let you parade around as someone you are not."

He wrote in his notebook as she spoke, trying so desperately to hide herself.

"Do you feel ashamed now? You certainly did not when you were cumming all over my fingers. I did not even need to coax you, I even prevented it. You loved what I did, you accepted it."

He shook ihs head, writing more down.

"I am afraid the slip must go as well. It is not something a woman like you would wear."

He gathered up the money around her, what he had thrown in her face for payment of her whorish cunt. He pushed it into her hands, as he ripped the slip from her. It came apart easily enough, and was thrown out the window with the rest.

"That is your money now. You earned, acting like a very well deserved whore. I even brought clothing for you."

He took out a small package from beneath the seats. It was a very low cut dress, raggedy and dirty. It would be the kind of clothing some girl walking the street would wear. Tacky, horrible. It would reveal more than it covered.

No underwear, simply the dress. He had purposely patched the letters WHORE, on the front.

"Now, put on your new dress, we are almost to the sanitorium. There is much to show you before our evening session."

 

[save_marla]

Her heart sank at his denial, and fresh tears dripped down her face as he forced her to remember her shameful display. She shook her head anxiously and blurted her contradiction, “I – didn’t love it, Doctor Swift! I…simply could not stop it. I am deeply ashamed now, as you can plainly see! No proper woman would choose to behave that way!”

She looked up at him in horror at his condemnation of the slip, as well, and struggled against him as he thrust the money into her hands and tore the remainder of her clothing from her. She wanted to drop his money at his comment that she had earned it, but her modesty overcame her pride, and she held the paper bills to her chest – it was all she had to cover herself. Camille wished, for the hundredth time today, that her husband could have accompanied her on this terrible journey.

But at last, an ounce of compassion from the doctor! Was it possible? She watched guardedly as he took out the parcel and unwrapped the clothing he had brought for her – a horrible, soiled, tattered dress more suited for a girl in a brothel than for someone of her good background and social standing. Fashioned to conceal the bare minimum of flesh required for common decency…he had even taken the time to emblazon that hateful word across the chest. Camille winced and turned away at this cruel joke. She could not hold her head up, in such a dress, even if she were surrounded by raving lunatics.

He handed the dress to her, with orders to put it on. Her fears came rushing back, knowing that they were almost at their destination. Several times, on this trip, she had found herself wishing they could arrive, that she could be free of this stifling coach and of his company – but now that they were nearly there, she felt her body grow cold. If this was how he treated her in the carriage, what was in store for her, now that she was here, on his terms?

Reluctantly, she shoved the dress back at him, shaking her head, and murmured quietly, “I will not wear that dress.”

 

[poohlive]

"It is your choice. I had thought you at least the common decency to cloth your own shameful body. But, if you chose to go naked, so be it."

He wrote more in his notes, shaking his head. The therapy would have to be started right away. She was absolutely lost. She did not know who she was, asking to be treated proper and yet holding onto money she earned from her dirty cunt as if it were gold.

"There is a lot of work to be done. I do not want any more delays from you. Do you understand?"

The carriage came up to the front steps of the compound. He got out first, opening the door wide. There were front doors leading up to a three story building. It looked less like a hospital and more like a large manor. Two servants were outside, both of them with wonderful surprised looks as the door opened to reveal her inside.

"Come, follow me," He ordered, "There is a lot to show you, including your rooms. Do not be difficult the first day, before you are even shown inside. You have already shamed yourself already. Would you now do it further? Get outside!"

The two servants were more than eager to see her come out. One gave a smile, the other whispered words a woman should not hear...

But she heard them anyway.

 

[save_marla]

Camille silently cursed her own quick vanity and sluggish intuition as she realized he was quite serious, and resolute. She took a half-hearted swipe at the garish dress as the doctor tucked it away, but then sat mute, in a daze. The prospect she faced as the carriage approached the doors of the estate was too surreal to imagine. At once, the instinct to refuse rose up in her – she could not be made to walk from the carriage naked – she would rather die! It was on her lips to exclaim as much, in retort, at his warning – but she paused. Watching him as he exited the carriage and flung the doors wide, exposing her to the harsh midday sun and the curious stares of his attendants, Camille suddenly understood – too well. He made the rules, here.

Suppressing a shudder at his sharp command, she slid across the seat and stepped nimbly out of the coach, cheeks blazing as she deliberately ignored the pleased expressions of his servants. As it was, she would rather run naked across the lawn than be dragged in by his goons. She trotted to follow him inside the building, rushing by the servants so hurriedly that she did not register the lecherous comments until moments after she had passed. She was not even sure which one had spoken.

Setting her jaw as she was finally able to match his stride, she boldly reached up to slip her arm through his. “You are too kind, to show me around yourself, doctor!” she intoned cheerfully. “I should be very grateful to see my rooms.”

 

[poohlive]

The doctor shook his head at such a blatant aspect from her. She should be sad and embarrased, and she was none of those things. She was happy, walking beside him, letting everyone she her as only her husband should.

Still, he would resign it to the therapy.

"Here is the common grounds," He showed her outside to the back first. A garden, where several women were tending. One of them was naked, another had a collar about her, and a man guiding her around. The third had on a dress like the one she had been shown, the words whore emblazed across the chest.

"Here is the kitchen," It was off to the right wing of the manor, where several more girls sat. They were in different states of dress, eating, talking, normal conversation. More of them had whores on their dress as well.

No one bothered too much about her own state, except for the males. The staff was all male. Male nurses, male attendings, male kitchen workers. They seemed more than excited about the women being naked, and her most exclusively.

"There is a game room and library in the east wing, above the kitchen. The main wing is for offices and treatment rooms."

He showed her an examination room, "Here is where we should have begun our efforts, but seeing what a common whore you are, I am rather glad we did not soil a good room."

He took her to the West wing This was all patient rooms. There was the sound of pleasure running through the hallways, torture as well. Sometimes it mixed and you were not sure which was which.

He unlocked a single door, and showed her to her room. It was small, with a bed and padded walls. It had little else.

"This, is your room," He said, "Your clothing is taken to storage, and you will get it once you have earned the right to wear it. Here are your clothes."

No underwear, simple skirts, short dresses. Nothing good. It was dirty, soiled clothing that looked from the streets. Some of them had the word Whore.

"If you choose not to get dressed, you will walk naked. There are rules, I will tell you about later. Failure to obey these rules results in punishment."

He sat down on the only chair in the room, admiring her form.

"So, have you any questions?"

 

[save_marla]

She clung to him in stunned silence as he led her around the place and she saw the state of the women here, under his care. Her skin prickled as she watched them carry on every day activities in such shabby states of undress - if they had any clothing at all. They scarcely looked at her, as her appearance was quite common in this place. Camille lingered briefly as they left the kitchen. All of the patients were female, and all the staff, male. Her stomach clenched in anxiety as she let herself be pulled along by the doctor.

In the halls, she cringed against him as the screams and moans reached her ears from behind closed doors. What happened, here? What had her husband signed her up for? They stopped in front of a small door and she watched as Dr. Swift unlocked it from the outside. She hurried into the room and sat down on the bed, feeling quite weak suddenly, but also a small sense of relief. The room was small and unwelcoming, but it might be her only refuge in his world.

She sorted through the clothes he gave her with numb fingers, and selected an ill-fitting shift dress with questionable stains down the back – at least it didn’t label her a whore. Muttering, “I shall get dressed..” she pulled it hastily over her head and down to cover herself, dismayed to see that it fell far short of her knees, barely covering her.

The room seemed to grow even smaller as he seated himself in the chair and addressed her, and in spite of her nerves, she felt the annoyance creeping back, now that she was clothed. She bit off a snappish reply, took a breath, and answered carefully, “I…would like to know what you mean by ‘punishment’. I was under the impression that this is a medical institution, not a boarding school for wayward girls…” Clamping her lips shut in regret of that bit of sarcasm, she reminded herself not to let her emotions get the best of her.