The Cure

[Maid of Marvels]

Lizzie blew a stray wisp of hair from her forehead as she leaned over to put the biscuits into the oven. Mr. O'Neill would be home soon from his office, putting an end to the quietude of her daily routine.

"Silly girl!" she admonished herself, sniffling. Her eyes red and swollen from crying, she hurried into the bathroom to see if she could salvage her appearance in time. Mr. O'Neill would not be pleased to see that she had once again succumbed to what he called preposterous bouts of childish hysteria. He had, in fact, threatened to send her away for treatment if it didn't stop.

Splashing cold water on her face, she pinched her cheeks to renew the pink blush that used to dwell there of its own accord before...

"It won't be so bad, lass. Just do your duty like a good wife should, is all" Ma had said the day she summarily announced Lizzie's forthcoming marriage. Her father had died recently, leaving them in a pile of debt. "Mr. O'Neill, the man who has bought up all of your father's notes, is looking for comfort in his old age. I doubt he will be very... demanding," she had added. "Besides, you're the eldest and you can't be so heartless as to want the youngers to land in the poorhouse."

Put that way, Lizzie had been hard-put to refuse, though she had always thought she'd marry for love and not to pay off her parents' debts. However, circumstances what they were... Lizzie Sheldrake, just barely eighteen years of age, found herself married to a man in his mid-thirties without even a fine how-do-you-do and only her mother and siblings to celebrate the day.

"Elizabeth! Where have you gotten yourself off to?"

Lost in thought, she jumped at the sound of his voice, rushing into the kitchen only to be greeted by a glare and the first tendrils of smoke snaking from the crack in the oven door. "Oh! The biscuits!"

"Indeed!" He sounded as if she had planned this to happen... or that he had expected nothing less than this at any rate. "Hysteria," he added thoughtfully. "It has to end."

Unable to staunch this latest freshet of tears, Lizzie hurriedly opened the oven only to release a billow of black smoke. Removing the blackened bread, she avoided Mr. O'Neill's gaze. "I'll make fresh," she spluttered. "It will only take me a minute."

"Perhaps," he spoke again. "It can wait. I've a need... And stop that infernal blathering."

Lizzie tried not to whimper... fulfilling Mr. O'Neill's "needs" was something she never looked forward to... wifely duty or not.

************

A closed thread for Chris2c4u and myself... As always, comments and critiques are welcome by PM.

Read along and enjoy.
~Maid and Chris

 

[chris2c4u]

Steven O'Neill was respectable. Proud and respectable. He had worked his way up at the Alliance from an office boy to junior underwriter. He had made his mother proud and was pleased that she had been able to die knowing he was a married man with a good job. What with his father disappearing the way he did, he felt he had salvaged some of the reputation of the family.

Of course, his wife's family weren't the sort that would help him out in his social climbing but at least they kept out of the way with the debts paid off. And Lizzie - she had youth and beauty and could be trained to brighten up social occasions; she had a native intelligence sufficient at least for her to learn etiquette.

At least, those were his hopes. But now? As on so many days recently he sat on the omnibus as it headed into the suburbia of the lower middle class and wondered just what had gone wrong. She would cry at the least thing; even at church last Sunday she'd snivelled - there, in front of the the whole neighbourhood. It wasn't as if she was short of anything - as far as he could see her needs were met better than they ever had been before in her short life.

Now, though, this week, she had turned very peculiar indeed and he was worried. He alighted and began the short walk from the bus stop to his road. For a woman of her standing to take over the duties from the housemaid - in fact to let her go from her position - my God if the word got out that they didn't have a servant tongues would wag at the club.

He was very proud of his election there just three months before and had made a lot of it to Elizabeth, telling her how she would be able to come on ladies night. Make some new friends. As usual, she hadn't looked pleased.

He sighed and let himself in and sniffed smoke in the air.

"Elizabeth! Where have you gotten yourself off to?"

He saw her, like a startled rabbit as she ran off to the kitchen. The housemaid would never have been in such a state.

"Hysteria. It has to end."

She emerged with the tray on which the burnt offerings still smoked.

"I'll make fresh," she spluttered. "It will only take me a minute."

"Perhaps," he spoke again. "It can wait. I've a need... And stop that infernal blathering."

She resignedly turned and put down the bread in the kitchen, taking off her apron. She stood, pensive and curled the apron strings in her hand.

"I wondered - if perhaps we might wait. Spend a quiet night - then later..."

He held out his hand for her and gestured with his head for her to come. "Not tonight, I'm out at the club. Might not feel like it later. Come on."

He held her hand firmly and led her upstairs. He began to remove his office clothes and hang them in the wardrobe. He didn't bother to look at her, assuming that she was disrobing.

He turned and saw that she was already under the coverlet of their bed and he joined her before removing the last of his underwear. He moved close to her as she lay still and naked beneath the bedclothes. His hands ran across her flesh.

"Ahhh Lizzie, you feel so good," he mouth decended roughly on hers then down to her firm breasts which he lapped greedily. She was silent, her hands barely touching him as he moved his body over hers. She could feel the hardness of his member pressed again the hairs at the top of her legs. His hand strayed down there for a moment, pressing on her, in her.

She gasped at the intrusion of his fingers and spread her legs beneath him.

He moved back and slid his hardness down her lips, angling himself to enter her. He knew he had to be sensitive; he had read some of the progressive literature so he didn't bury his cock as one stroke. He moved slowly - until he was inside. Then he thrust, quick, hard, monotonously. He pawed her young body and grunted as his hips moved faster, as his cock pounded her. In two minutes it was over and he rolled off her, pleased to see she was breathing deeply.

He pulled the cover back to reveal her breasts and stroked them as she blushed and bit her lip and closed her eyes, obviously fighting back tears.

He pushed the cover up over her and sighed. "Go and finish the
biscuits," he muttered.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Wishing that there was time for a proper bath, Lizzie slipped on a duster and hurried downstairs, her dress and small clothes draped over her arm. Having decided to get the biscuits into the oven first and then go for a quick washup, she stood at the table mixing the ingredients; Mr. O'Neill's seed weeping down her legs as if in commiseration with the tears that flowed from her eyes.

She wondered if she would ever grow used to his pawing and probing. This was nothing like the whispered twitterings she'd overheard on an occasional Sunday afternoon when the local girls who worked in the big houses met for tea at her Aunt Sally's boarding house to compare notes. Truth, she'd always found the whole idea rather repugnant but had never been bold enough to ask questions, and neither Ma nor Aunt Sally were prone to say much more than it was a "wifely duty" and that it was her "lot in life".

Aside from the shocking wish to be shed of these duties, Lizzie's only other fervent desire was not to bear a child. So far she hadn't gotten pregnant, though she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Would Mr. O'Neill place the blame for lack of children on her bouts of hysteria? Most likely. Would he leave his "needs" unattended if her belly was bloated and her breasts swelled up like huge melons? Probably not. And what of the child? Would that poking and prodding do it a harm?

Splashing water on her face, she took one last look at herself before hurrying back to the kitchen and the biscuits. She didn't know what he would do if she let them burn a second time.

Dinner was eaten in relative silence, except for the incessant and maddening slurps, gurgles and gulps soon succeeded by the grand belch which signalled that Mr. O'Neill was satiated and ready to retire to the parlor with a brandy before bed. Unless it was his night for the Club, as it was this evening.

These nights were almost always the worst. Perhaps it was the abundance of male companionship mixed with the liquor, Lizzie wasn't quite sure. No matter, Mr. O'Neill's "needs" seemed to be particularly urgent upon his return. She sighed forlornly, though she knew she had at least a few hours to soak in the tub while he was away.

"Well done, Elizabeth" Mr. O'Neill said following a belch that seemed to spread over several octaves.

"Thank you," Lizzie replied quietly, watching him untuck his napkin from his shirtfront then placing it on the table.

"I won't be as late as usual this evening. I have... "

She finished the sentence in her mind, "...a need" but before she could reply or comment, as if she would have dared, he had kissed her on the cheek and was gone.

Lizzie sighed.

 

[chris2c4u]

"Steven! Good to see you. Brandy is it?"

George Whistable's welcome made Steven proud; the vice president remembered him even though they hadn't spoken since the day of his election to membership.

"Thank you Mr Whitstable."

"George, call me George, please."

Steven joined the small ring of members basking in the celebrity of sharing a table with the vice president. He recognised most as being in businesses similar to himself or even the learned professions; surely old Jenkins there was a lawyer?

The air soon became smokey, the atmosphere convivial. Cards were played, small wagers exchanged. Talk ranged from shop to smutty, politics to mistresses.

As the evening wore on Whitstable greeted another new face; "even newer than you, Steven, this is Dr James Cameron." The two newcomers shook hands; the contrast between them, though not marked, was noticable. Steven, though taller than James was somewhat reedy and had angular, pinched features. In contrast James was stockier, his eyes brown as against Steven's slightly watery blue, his hair fuller, chestnut, rather
than Steven's more mousey colouring, seeming to compliment the darker tone of his skin.

"A doctor - of medicine?" Steven enquired.

"Yes, I'm starting up a practice nearby. One of the large houses over on Myrtle Street, suitable for patients to stay a day or two if necessary."

"If I may say doctor?" Whitstable's voice held a question in the
cadence, "you are rather modest."

James shrugged. "Dr Cameron has studied in Europe with some of the leading researches in the burgeoning field of psychology and psychiatry. Was it not Dr Freud you worked with?"

"Yes I was privileged to work with that eminent gentleman for some few months. He taught me a great deal."

A murmur of approbation went around the room.

"I say Cameron I hope that doesn't mean your neighbourhood will be invaded by coves who think they're Napoleon, or teapots!"

James joined in the laughter but explained that while he would practice some general medicine he specialised in the area of medicine known as hysteria. "A woman's complaint - though its severity could often eat into the roots of even the most stable of marriages."

There was a silence amongst most; the sipping of drinks.

"Though fortunately uncommon!" James's remark triggered laughter that was tinged with relief. They went back to their cards.

The evening wore on and groups formed and dissolved until Steven could corner James and discuss the symptoms of hysteria.

"If I might speak frankly, Dr Cameron."

"Of course."

"Much of what you've said -" Steven looked around to ensure they were still talking privately. "Well, it is familiar. If you know what I mean."

James nodded. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and looking around carefully, he murmured, "my card. Should your wife require a consultation, contact me at that address."

****

The following morning at breakfast, Steven told Lizzie about his
encounter.

"Now, don't let this set you off again," he tried to bite back the
sharpness of his tongue as he saw the worried look come over her face.

"He is a specialist, worked with some famous people in Europe. It can't do any harm for you to go and see him now can it?" He patted his wife's hand as she sat beside him. "I'll write to him today."

By return of post, the appointment was sent. Mrs O'Neill could attend in just three days time for a first consultation.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Lizzie was as nervous as a mouse confronted by a cat that morning. Dr. Cameron. Unique approaches to hysteria in women. She only half-heard what Mr. O'Neill had told her, instead constructing mountainous of catastrophic possibilities in her mind as to her fate after this appointment. It was only her husband's sternly appraising gaze mixed with sheer willpower wrought in fear that kept the tears from overflowing.

His office was in an unassuming portion of the city, the reasons twofold, Lizzie thought -- one for anonymity of the patients and the second for the savings on lower rent. The fact that Mr. O'Neill was obviously uncomfortable amused her in a perverse sort of way. She'd grown up quite near here and knew the purported dangers as well as the knowledge that most were purely exaggerated myth, meant to keep the classes separated one from the other.

"Well, then" he said after announcing their arrival to the young man seated behind an enormous desk. "I'll just leave you to it and return in an hour's time to pick you up."

In a way, she was relieved to see Mr. O'Neill depart. Lizzie was afraid, true, but for some reason she didn't want her husband there as a smug witness to her downfall at the hands of Dr. Cameron.

"Mrs. O'Neill?"

Lizzie fairly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her name being spoken. Uncertain whether to laugh or cry at her foolishness, she nodded and stood, resisting the urge to twist her fingers in the material of her skirt, smoothing it down self-consciously instead as she approached the great oaken door where the doctor stood waiting.

"Please. Have a seat," he said, gesturing toward a chair placed at an angle across from his own more luxurious one on the opposite side of the desk.

Silently acquiescing, Lizzie took a moment to glance at her surroundings while Dr. Cameron seated himself. The room was larger than she had expected, the walls lined with shelves of books and the scent of tobacco mingled with that of a brightly burning fire made it seem almost comfortable -- if not for the fact she knew what the purpose of this office was.

"I'll be candid, Mrs. O'Neill. Your husband told me of his concern for your problem. He believes you suffer from Hysteria."

Nodding, Lizzie fought back the tears that she knew would be her undoing. "Hysteria," she repeated quietly. The sound of her heart pounding was like thunder in her ears. Could he hear it? Could he tell how inept she was as a wife by looking at her? His eyes seem to bore into her very soul. How much had Mr. O'Neill told Dr. Cameron? Had he mentioned anything about...

"It was serendipity that led to our meeting at his Club and brought you here to my offices. I would like to hear a bit about you from your own lips first," he said. "But rest assured, there is a treatment for this... IF it is indeed Hysteria."

She nodded again. What did this man... this Doctor... want to know about her? Lizzie doubted that her upbringing was different from that of most other women. She cooked, she cleaned, she helped care for the little ones. She helped with the laundry her mother took in to supplement her father's meagre income. She got married. More of the same, less the children and the hills of dirty clothing soaking in vast cauldrons of boiling water. She burned things. She cried almost constantly. And then, there were Mr. O'Neill's "needs"... The words tumbled out unbidden.

It wasn't until she heard the sound of her husband clearing his throat in the anteroom that she realized just how long she had been rambling on. Blushing, Lizzie hurried to apologize, but Dr. Cameron held up his hand and began to speak softly, introducing ideas it seemed she might not be able to deal with.

Not merely a woman's complaint. Societal pressures and expectations. Displacement of body organs by corsets. Lack of independence.

It was all quite shocking to hear some of her own thoughts spoken out loud by a person with varying documents declaring his educational worth hung in frames on the wall behind him. For the first time, Elizabeth Sheldrake O'Neill began to wonder if, indeed, there was a remedy to her problem.

"I'll just have a word with your husband, Mrs. O'Neill, but rest assured. We will speak again soon."

 

[chris2c4u]

"Mrs. O'Neill?"

Dr Cameron let the young woman settle as she looked around the room as he noted her nervous demeanour, her rather drawn features.

"I'll be candid, Mrs. O'Neill. Your husband told me of his concern for your problem. He believes you suffer from Hysteria."

"Hysteria," she repeated quietly.

Dr Cameron smiled reassuringly. "Many people have heard the word but few know the different forms the condition might take. I must ascertain certain facts about your general health. It was serendipity that led to our meeting at his Club and brought you here to my offices. I would like to hear a bit about you from your own lips first," he said. "But rest assured, there is a treatment for this... IF it is indeed Hysteria."

After a brief examination Dr Cameron ruled out any major physical cause of disease. A little undernourished but healthy. So this wasn't a case where detailed phsychoanalytic techniques would be brought into play immediately; as Freud had told him, that was for cases with pronounced physical symptoms.

He then asked her about her background; she was guarded, didn't want to give too much away - at first. But then she became more forthcoming. She clearly didn't think she was living up to the expectations of her husband. Yes - and his needs. At this stage he didn't want to press her too strongly, she would find the words herself he hoped.

Again the doctor smiled at her and began to explain that this looked like a case of emotional stress; he waved aside her attempts to apologise.

"You can speak freely when you are here Mrs O'Neill." He went on to tell her that she was physically healthy at which she smiled and that the causes of the difficulties she had hinted at were varied and could be dealt with.

"There is a physical side to this matter and a technique has been
developed for helping in a cure, indeed, recently new machines have revolutionised matters and can help in certain cases. I would like it if you could come back for further consultations when we might try this new approach, if you're agreeable?"

Unused to being asked her opinion or to decide for herself she nodded meekly, though she was given hope that something could be done to improve matters for her.

"I'll just have a word with your husband, Mrs. O'Neill, but rest assured. We will speak again soon."

Dr Cameron went to the anteroom where he explained that this matter was certainly treatable; Mr O'Neill looked relieved. At last, their lives might have a semblance of normality again.

"I would like Mrs O'Neill to come to the clinic overnight, perhaps one day next week? There is an amount of physical treatment that I think she needs."

"Certainly Doctor, perhaps Tuesday if that is available?" Mr O'Neill went to fetch his wife and tell her what they had decided for her. As they left Dr Cameron shook them both by the hand, noticing how her small hand still had some traces of girlish softness about it. "Until Tuesday," he said, bidding them good day.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Not wanting to risk the possibility of a scene in public, Steven waited until they arrived at home to tell his wife what the doctor had suggested.

"Tuesday! Why that's only... " Unable to think, Lizzie counted it out on her fingers. "four days! How long will I be there?"

"Dr. Cameron said just for the day. Well, overnight," Mr. O'Neill replied, patting his wife's hand before adding, "But it will be weekly."

"I see." Wiping her suddenly sweaty palms on her apron, Lizzie busied herself at the stove, all the while struggling yet again to staunch the fresh spate of tears that threatened to overflow.

"You do want these bouts of hysteria to end, don't you?"

"Y-y-yes," Lizzie managed as she stirred the stew with renewed vigor. "Of course I do."

"Well, then. It's decided. Tuesday morning. Bright and early," Mr. O'Neill said it as if it were a foregone conclusion, and in fact, it was. "Now I'll go have a sherry while I wait for dinner. It won't be long, will it?"

"No. No. It won't be long at all." But it wasn't the dinner Lizzie was thinking about, it was the fact that Tuesday was only four short days away.

******

The next few days, Lizzie was almost too busy to think. Washing and ironing, dusting, sweeping and mopping all needed to be done for Mr. O'Neill's comfort while she was... away. She could barely swallow a bite of the breakfast she prepared for him on Tuesday morning, pushing her food around on the plate to make it seem as though she had at least eaten some. "There is sliced beef in the icebox and fresh bread in the larder. For your lunch," she added. Mr. O'Neill had already informed her that he would be dining at the Club.

Finally, after washing, drying and putting away the dishes from their meal, Lizzie walked through the house to make sure nothing was out of place. It was, she felt, the least she could do. At least he didn't seem displeased.

At barely half seven, Mr. O'Neill announced that their cab had arrived. Putting on her coat, Lizzie nodded silently and picked up the small overnight case she'd packed for her... stay. Leading the way, her demeanor suggested that she was going to attend a funeral rather than get help for a problem that would help her to be a happier and more productive woman.

******

Dr. Cameron, dressed in a white coat, was waiting for them when they arrived, shaking Mr. O'Neill's hand and assuring him that "Elizabeth will be in his safekeeping" before indicating there was no further need for him to remain. As for Lizzie, her knees were shaking so badly that she was certain he would hear them clacking together.

Once her husband had departed, Dr. Cameron bade her follow. It was a different room this time, not the one she'd been in before. In the middle stood a high surgical table covered by a sheet. There were bottles and jars on shelves, unrecognizable implements that glinted evilly under the overhead light, and an odd looking piece of machinery in the corner. Lizzie could only imagine what the closed and locked cabinets held.

"I'm very glad you came, Lizzie. This is my examination room. I just want to show you around a bit before we begin."

 

[chris2c4u]

After a few moments Dr Cameron realised Mrs O'Neill was too nervous to take in what he was telling her and he smiled. Taking her into his consulting room he explained that hysteria was certainly treatable and that she shouldn't worry.

"It does require that I touch you, intimately," he said, "to encourage your body to naturally begin to cure itself. You will experience a feeling of paroxsysm as we call it, a relief. This is perfectly normal and very soon after you will be able to rejoin your jusband and feel much better. There will be a need for further treatments but as you'll see, there is nothing to be afraid of."

Lizzie bit her lip and wondered. She blinked and blurted out, "Will I need to be put to sleep?"

Dr Cameron smiled. "No, no need for that at all." She looked relieved in a way having heard stories about people not waking up after such preperations were used.

"If you're ready then we'll begin?"

Nervous again she gave a little nod and looked pale.

"If you can put on this shift," he indicated a changing room, "and then go through the door into the treatment room."

Dr Cameron removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He had decided that first he would use a manual technique to see how badly her body was affected by the disease. That of course took longer and later treatments would probably use the more technological approaches of either the steam or electric powered vibrator.

Diffidently, Mrs O'Neill emerged in the cotton gown she had been given and a pair of slippers that were in the changing room. She hugged her arms around her as though she was cold despite the room being warmed ready for its near-naked patients comfort.

The leather chair he invited her to was large and padded its back lowered and she felt vulnerable as her torso was a little lower than her buttocks. She placed her legs straight on the chair too as the doctor adjusted a screen between them.

"For some privacy," he explained. "You will still be able to speak to me and tell me if anything hurts during the procedure, of course and I may ask some questions as we go along."

She shivered; not with cold be apprehension. She felt the warm hands of the doctor on her calves; he was parting her legs! She felt an urge to resist but told herself this was for her own good. Then the shift was lifted and she knew that he was only the second man to have sight of her private parts after Mr O'Neill.

James sat comfortably beside Lizzie's parted legs and rested his palm gently on her pubic hair, feeling her jump. He didn't say anything but his fingers very gently explored her soft pink folds, his hand rocking gently against her pubic bone. His middle finger gently dipped deeper into her and he was pleased to find that already she was a little lubricated.

With gentle, slow motions of his hand he turned against the softness of her womanhood, occasionally letting his fingertip probe her more deeply. As soon as his fingertips were wet enough and he felt her moving a little her hips gently gyrating he transferred his touch, oh, so softly, to the hood of her clit. With gentle, tiny slow circles he massaged her, listening for the signs of approaching paroxsysm.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Although Lizzie didn't fully understand what Dr. Cameron meant by paroxysm, she did realize that it would somehow bring an end to the overwhelming bouts of melancholy that she'd been suffering since her marriage to Mr. O'Neill. It was important that he no longer be frustrated with her girlish ways, nor be ashamed of the fact that she would just burst into tears at the drop of a hat. Or burn his food, or scorch his shirts with the iron. The list of her failures went on and on. Not to mention his "needs"... though she didn't think she would ever get used to that.

She tensed when she felt Dr. Cameron's finger probing her and struggled to relax. She didn't want him to think that she was afraid, or that she didn't want to be cured. That, she feared, would only make him angry the same way Mr. O'Neill got angry and maybe he wouldn't want to help her anymore.

Everyone talked about those places where they hung you in cages and locked you in small rooms when you were crazy or incurable. If you weren't mad already, you soon would be. Lizzie sighed and tried very hard to concentrate, wishing once more that she knew what a paroxysm was.

Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out all the extraneous thoughts and fears that were swirling inside her head. Still unsure about what Dr. Cameron was doing, she tried to focus on that and that alone.

Her body moved of its own volition, her hips rocking rhythmically with the movement of his fingers. Soft and gentle. Circling now. Rubbing on the little nubbin that she felt only when she cleaned herself or washed.

Something inside of her fluttered, spreading like butterflies trying to break free. And there was pressure, too. Not a heavy burdensome sensation, but something more like... Lizzie tensed, certain she was about to pee herself. "Oh!"

"Have I hurt you, Mrs. O'Neill?" Dr. Cameron's voice was filled with concern and his fingers had stopped moving, though he hadn't removed his hand.

"No... " Lizzie faltered. "It's just that... I think I have to... "

"Urinate?"

Lizzie nodded, disregarding the fact that he couldn't see her face.

"I assure you that it's quite common to have such a sensation, but it is merely the onset of paroxysm and nothing to be concerned about," he reassured her. "Shall we continue?"

"Y-y-yes, please," she replied, knowing she had to trust in Dr. Cameron in ways she had never trusted anyone before. Her very sanity depended on it.

He didn't speak again, simply resuming the gentle, swirling manipulation of her private parts with his fingers as Lizzie lay back and willed her body to follow.

This time she noticed when the little nub began to swell, stiffening as his finger rubbed back and forth. She felt her own wetness as his fingers dipped inside of her, sometimes deeply, sometimes not; and felt her hips arch upward when it was the latter.

The butterflies were back, though the fluttering of their wings was more pronounced now. She felt them dispersing throughout her body then coming back as if they were clustering around Dr. Cameron's hand and what he was doing. And the pressure... that was back, too, though she tried not to let it worry her. Approaching paroxysm he'd said... and that was a good thing.

Lizzie let the butterflies continue and focussed on the other things that were happening to her body. The way her nipples had hardened. The way her skin felt, hot and flushed all over. The growing need between her legs as her hips bucked against Dr. Cameron's fingers. The empty place inside, aching to be filled...

Suddenly the subtle sensations began to intensify and it frightened her at first, but she struggled to remain calm. It's only the paroxysm... It's only the... Lizzie cried out as it finally overtook her, though Dr. Cameron's fingers didn't stop moving even when her body began to convulse.

 

[chris2c4u]

James was pleased she had responded to his touch; there was no physical abnormality then, he concluded as he watched her around the blind, noting the deepening of her breathing, the movement of her hips against his hand.

She moaned as sensations began to flow in her body; with a detached demeanour Dr Cameron wondered if she had ever felt these sensations before. Now, though, she certainly was feeling them, indeed, seemingly wanting to hold them back. He wondered whether to ask he to relax but there was no need. He felt her body begin to writhe more insistently as she began to lose control. Her voice moaned as she was overcome with release. He continued his massage as he felt her convulsions begin, extending the release, watching her legs thrash and her back arch before she slumped and he slowed his fingers to a gentle touch. He withdrew his fingers and ensured she was covered and went to wash his hands, giving her a few moments to recover.

On his return he sat beside her, noting her flushed face and neck; she could hardly meet his eyes.

"Mrs O'Neill, may I ask - the sensations you felt just now...have you had them before?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No doctor - should I have?"

"it's not unusual for a woman not to have experienced such a release before. However, some have had such feelings - in the marital bed."

Lizzie looked at James, obviously confused. He took her hand in his; at first she thought tenderly but then his fingers slid to take her pulse. He did smile though. "Don't worry, we can go into that another time. I think, if I may, I will suggest that you return home today rather than staying overnight. Your experience was particularly vigorous and it may be that one such treatment will be enough to help you recover. I will send word to your husband to collect you, as I would like a word with him before you leave. I would like to see you again though in about a week."

****

Mr O'Neill was concerned when he got a message that the doctor wished him to call and was given permission to leave work that afternoon. However, when he arrived at the office, Dr Cameron smiled and explained that Lizzie had responded well to the treatment.

"I wish to speak to you about your moments of intimacy with your wife, when you have marital relations."

Mr O'Neill tried not to blush and sat down in Dr Cameron's office while Lizzie waited outside.

"I'm sure that you are up to date with the latest thinking about ensuring your wife is able to experience a certain emotional release as you join with her? If not, I have several pamphlets..."

Steven waved his hand, indicating he had read several.

"My medical advice is to ensure you take some time to allow her to experience the effects of these methods; I suspect that would be a considerable help in this case and the hysteria would be quickly cured. There will still be need for some treatment here for the next few weeks and we can check on the progress the two of you make."

Somewhat nervously, Mr O'Neill stood up and shook hands with the doctor, thanking him for his work so far. In walking into the reception area both husband and wife nervously looked at one another and linked arms. Mr O'Neill raised his hat to the nurse and they left.

****

That evening, Steven had had rather a lot to drink, worried about the night to come. They had tried to talk about the experience at the doctor's but apart from agreeing, yes, very useful and hopeful - which was true; Lizzie was certainly happier generally that evening - they had stumbled over exchanging anything more intimate.

Both were uncertain when it came time for bed. Steven tried to remember what he had read about this matter of arousing women sexually. As they undressed in their ritualised manner and they lay close, as usual. Steven tried to kiss her gently, the fumes of brandy curling from his lips. His hands slid across her, heading down quickly across her belly until he remembered - slowly, women need more time. His mouth transferred itself to her firm young breasts. After a few moments of suckling her nipples his hand slid between her legs.

"Ahh you feel so warm in your pussy Lizzie," he slurred using words more suited to the tavern that the middle class bedroom as his fingers invaded her, missing her clit in his eagerness to press into her sex. His fingers moved against her, in her as he grunted, his hardness pressed against her hip, pushing against her, eager to be inside her.

Surely this would be enough; how was he supposed to know if this was succeeding? His fingers slid in and out of her; it seemed to him that she was moving a little, her hips rising and falling, her thighs pressing against his hand. Pleased, he looked at her; she had her eyes closed and seemed transported into a dream...or memory...

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Lizzie tensed when Mr. O'Neill's hand found its way between her legs, wondering for a fleeting moment if Dr. Cameron had instructed him as well. She'd barely had time to consider what had happened in his office that morning, let alone describe it to her husband beyond saying that the doctor had said the session had been successful and that she should return in a week's time. If nothing else, she sensed a certain buoyancy in her spirit that hadn't been there before.

Expecting him to duplicate Dr. Cameron's motions, Lizzie held her breath in expectation, but, once inserted, Mr. O'Neill's fingers did not re-emerge from her depths to rub and circle over her little nubbin in the same way, though the knuckles of his hand did occasionally brush against it. When that happened, she felt her hips begin to move of their own volition, her nerves growing taut with rapidly diminished anticipation.

Too shy and uncertain to explain what the doctor had done, her tumultuous emotions gave her pause. On the one hand, Lizzie thought she should explain, but on the other, she didn't want to risk arousing Mr. O'Neill's anger. Unable to forestall it, she felt a flush of shame as further evidence of her shortcomings crept over her. If only she could experience a paroxysm for Mr. O'Neill... he'd be ever so pleased.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Lizzie made a valiant attempt to regain the sensations of that morning, but to no avail. She was a failure. Glad for the darkness of the room, she fought back the tears as he finally climbed onto her body and thrust his manhood into her. At least now she would be able to sleep, though her dreams were a jumble of hands and feelings -- and Dr. Cameron's face.

The next morning and those of the following week brought nothing new to the sameness of Lizzie O'Neill's days. Cooking, cleaning, washing and ironing. Making small talk and struggling to keep a smile on her face.

Mr. O'Neill continued to do as he had done that first night, though the outcome was always the same and there were no further paroxysms. Every now and again there was a certain sensitivity between her legs that made her shiver, but the feelings never lasted or persisted, despite the fact she hoped they would.

On Monday evening, Mr. O'Neill noted that Lizzie would be returning to see Dr. Cameron in the morning, but she needed no such reminder. Her bag had been packed for days.

Tuesday dawned with an uneasy sense of trepidation for the young woman as she performed her morning ablutions. A last cursory glance around the house assured Lizzie that all was in order before Mr. O'Neill announced the arrival of the cab that would once more take her to Dr. Cameron. Heart pounding as she climbed in, Lizzie was not looking forward to telling him that she had failed in her purpose.

 

[chris2c4u]

I should tell her, Stephen mused in the office the day after their first lovemaking following her treatment. He had become hard thinking of it as he sat there; the way her hips responded first to his hand and then to his mounting of her. Tell her you enjoyed that sign of her response and the feel of her hands on his buttocks under the bedclothes; she was clearly responding to him much more positively. He drew a ragged breath and thought briefly of going to the lavatories to relieve his arousal but decided not to and to think how, that morning, there hadn't been even the indication of a tear in her eye. He would tell her, he thought - perhaps
after a night at the club had loosened his tongue.

The week that followed slowly deteriorated; a batch of bread was burned and she had, if anything become more withdrawn in bed, indeed refusing his advances one night with complaints of stomach ache.

On Saturday they had gone into town together and, in viewing the shops and taking luncheon out they had both recovered a little of the feelings of their first love; Lizzie had taken his arm, he felt, proudly, pleased to be seen as the wife of a respectable young man. On their return home, in the hall he had kissed her and she, he felt sure, had responded in the way he seemed to remember before they were married and became fully intimate. He was aroused immediately and his hand rose to her breast, his desires plain but as he did so she pulled away, saying how the dinner must be prepared, "what with the girl not being in at weekends. You don't know what hard work it is keeping up your house Mr O'Neill!"

They were both still happy and he did not insist on her continuing their play, knowing that the evening - after the club - she would comply. He casually wandered into the kitchen and slipped his arms around her waist from behind; feeling her tense he stood back a little.

"I was going to say, a thought occured to me. Once you're - fully...recovered... the wives of the club members themselves have meetings in each others homes. Perhaps you would like to join them?"

She turned a little to her husband, knowing he meant well and gave a smile and a nod. Inside, she immediately worried - I won't be good enough; they're such fancy ladies I'm sure. Though - to have more friends...

"Good. Good. I'll go and read the paper," said Mr O'Neill.

****

The club was relaxing; a game of billiards, a small wager on the cards and the brandy flowed. Stephen had little chance to speak with Dr. Cameron though he did suggest that the treatment had had some effect.

As they stood in the library, smoking, Stephen asked, "for those... gentlemen...who have not the experience of pleasing a woman...what help can you offer them? Apart from the...ahh...pamphlets?"

Dr Cameron blew a cloud of blue cigar smoke into the air.

"The best way is very controversial, I'm afraid." Himself being a little in his cups and having taken a liking to this case, he grinned and leaned to Stephen's ear. "An experienced woman to show him how she wants to be fucked."

Stephen blinked then saw the grin on the doctor's face before they both laughed.

"Of course, it might not be exactly...a typical medical solution but some people need such help. You and Lizzie now are at an early stage and of course you wouldn't need such assistance..."

Mr O'Neill wondered what the doctor meant by experienced woman but thought of it no more that night as he wended his way homewards to Lizzie.

He remembered little of the experience except that his hands seemed to perform no feats that night; she lay prone, as bad as before. He tried to tell her what he
liked, tried to urge her to move against him but she was like a mannequin beneath him. In the end he covered her roughly and shot his seed inside her, rolling off her to sleep and feel the bed quiver a little as - once again - she stifled sobs.

****

Dr Cameron could see from the shadows under her eyes and her tense demeanour that things had not gone well that week. He tried to get her to speak of it and, hesitantly he got the impression that the feelings she had had in the clinic had clearly not been replicated in the home. She was fiercely defensive of her husband, suggesting he had tried and initially there was arousal but he knew that her character was such as to doubt herself at every turn.

"Let us proceed to treatment, Mrs O'Neill," he said and again they entered the treatment room and he gently manipulated her sex. For some time she writhed, clearly affected by the workings of his fingers against her, in her but their was still no approach to a climax to relieve her symptoms.

As the minutes passed Dr. Cameron said gently, "Lizzie, I'm going to stop for a moment and try something new." With gentle strokes to her wet womanhood he slowed then withdrew his hand, hearing her give a little cry and seeing her hips push up in need.

"Don't be alarmed Lizzie, there will be a noise but nothing will hurt you; I'm going to place some soft fabric on you instead of my hand. I'll let you feel it gently."

There was indeed a noise that seemed like a piece of heavy machinery starting up and Lizzie tensed. She felt the doctor place his hand reassuringly on her exposed inner thigh and he let her feel the soft, almost cotton feel that he mentioned against her soft skin there. It was more than that though; something under it was undulating quickly against her leg. She tensed, uncertain what was to happen.

"It... it's not going to..." she screwed up her eyes and said it, "go inside me is it Doctor?"

"No, Lizzie, don't worry; just on the outside. Now, I'm going to slowly move it..." as he spoke she felt him slide the vibrating soft fabric higher up her leg and then over into the curls of her pubic hairs. He listened and watched as she felt the unusual sensations. Her hips rocked and she daren't ask for him to place it where his fingers had been, where she wanted it. Slowly, teasingly almost, he did so and she squirmed and gasped. Her whimpers grew louder until she was eagerly pressing against the vibrations that lay between her legs.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"Ohh... "

Unsure whether she had spoken aloud or merely thought it, Lizzie rolled her hips sinuously against the soft cloth and the hardness behind it. Her entire body quivered with the beginnings of that feeling she'd had on her last visit to Dr. Cameron. Her head thrashed back and forth and her breathing grew shallow as her fingers clenched the sheet beneath her with a death-like grip.

Deaf and blind to everything except the sensations flowing through her body, Lizzie immersed herself in their growing intensity. Mewling now, she arched her back, pressing more firmly against the appliance and the dawning realization that she was not only close to paroxysm, but that she was yearning for something more.

It was as if... as if her privates were easing open. Waiting, for the first time in her life, to be filled. It almost gave her pause, but Lizzie forced her thoughts back to the almost incomprehensible phenomenon that was overtaking her body.

The intensity of the paroxysm when it erupted and tore through her body took Lizzie by surprise. Unable to withhold the desperately exquisite feeling of release that it gave her, she cried out hoarsely; every fiber of her being consumed until she finally lay back, enervated, gasping for breath.

Although Dr. Cameron had at some point removed the apparatus, Lizzie was vaguely aware that he had only just removed his hand from her thigh and was covering her gently. The loud droning of the machinery had stopped now as well, though the pounding of her heart against her chest seemed infinitely louder.

"You did very well, Lizzie," Dr. Cameron said after washing his hands and moving the screen out of the way. "You can sit up now if you like."

Still a bit shaken, Lizzie was only able to raise herself after the doctor placed his arm around her back to assist her, though she felt somewhat embarrassed to look into his face. Exactly why that was, she wasn't sure. Nor was she sure why she could achieve a paroxysm here in his office, but not at home with Mr. O'Neill.

"Dr. Cameron?" Lizzie began hesitantly, asking the question that had been on her mind all week. "Will I be staying overnight this time?"

 

[chris2c4u]

The doctor watched Lizzie's responses with interest. Though she had become somewhat aroused by manual stimulation the introduction of the new vibrating massage machine had certainly done the trick. Powered by a small steam engine in the outer office, it could provide regular and fast massage to her private parts. Judging by its speedy effects - he timed her climax from the initial contact with her genitals to its conclusion as one minute twenty five seconds - its use could prove very effective in these cases.

As she lay recovering he washed his hands and made a series of notes in her file - for her treatment and the book his was planning on hysteria. Blinking away his reverie, he returned his attention to the patient.

"You did very well, Lizzie," he said, moving the screen out of the way. "You can sit up now if you like."

She struggled to sit up and without thinking he reached an arm around her to help her. Suddenly he was aware of the warmth of her body; this was not just a case, not a patient but a person. As she sat, supporting herself with her hands on the edge of the bed, he looked at her, almost as if for the first time. A strand of hair had escaped from the rest, sharply pulled back to a pony tail. The strand hung down near her cheekbone; a face a little thin, still but not without beauty. Far from it. She glanced over and their eyes met; James smiled and she dropped her gaze immediately but murmured, "Dr. Cameron? Will I be staying overnight
this time?"

James thought for a moment and then nodded, checking that the arrangements had been made with her husband for such an eventuality. Several ideas occured to the doctor all at once and tonight he would explore them.

****

Lizzie wasn't sure what to expect; she had heard of hospital wards and had even visited the large teaching hospital when her grandmother was admitted - and operated on in front of gawping students, she was told. This though, was not like that; Dr. Cameron's plump, matronly nurse showed her to a large single room on the first floor. Though her house was comfortable this was, for Lizzie, luxurious. A thick carpet - and it covered the whole floor! A sink, not a jug - and towels much thicker and softer than her own. She did feel pride in the fact that Stephen's house - their house - also had running hot water like here.

Her eyes widened to see books on the shelves and she ran her fingers along the leather spines reading the titles quickly. She read avidly and was a regular at the
local library but to own the works...she sighed. Stephen wasn't one for reading anything but the paper and glowered visibly whenever she thought of buying a book, even when she had a little money of her own as on her birthday.

Behind her, Dr. Cameron cleared his throat. He had watched her for a few moments and she turned around quickly and blushed taking her hand quickly away from the books.

"Please, feel free to read anything that takes your fancy. That's what they're here for - the patient's use." His calm demeanour and smile cause her to relax a little and a small small crossed her face.

"I..I like books," she said in a low voice. He tilted his head with a nod of encouragement for her to continue and she went on a little more confidently. As she finished explaining her liking for a number of classics they both found themselves sitting on the side of her bed.

"I would have thought..." Dr. Cameron began. It was her turn to tilt her head, wondering what he had to say. He gave a crooked grin and continued, "a young lady like yourself would have been more interested in the popular romances rather than some of the works you mentioned?" He smiled more broadly to see her nose crinkle in distaste.

"Well Lizzie...Mrs O'Neill...tonight if I may, I'd like to join you for dinner. The better I get to know you then the better we will be able to treat you and get you home to your husband." He noticed how she bit her lip and cast her eyes down at this remark. His own eyes then slipped from her face as they both notice that the shift she was still wearing had ridden up over one leg, exposing a pale, shapely thigh. Quickly she made herself decent and he said, "I will leave you to change. You may wear your every day clothes or nightwear as I suggest we dine in here."

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Lizzie remained on her bed for a few minutes when Dr. Cameron let himself out of her room. The paroxysm this morning had been especially intense and she longed to just... sleep.

A sharp rap at the door preceded Nurse Harding's almost immediate entrance. "Well, then, Mrs. O'Neill," she said with a smile. "It's nearly time for elevenses and you must be starving. You could use a few pounds," the portly woman added with a wink.

"Oh, that does sound lovely," Lizzie replied with a smile, suddenly realizing that she was famished.

"Good then. I'll be back shortly. But before I go," Nurse Harding crossed the room, opening a door on its far side. "You might like to take a bath in the meantime if a quick washing up doesn't suit you. The tub and the commode are both in here. I'll take the dirty gown when I come back."

"Thank you." Lizzie blushed, but was pleased to know there were such accommodations without having to ask.

"Think nothing of it," the woman replied, gone just as suddenly as she had arrived.

Taking a towel with her, she stepped into the tiled room and began to run the water, adding bath salts that she found in a bottle beside the tub. There was a bar of lavender soap and shampoo for her hair as well, she noted, unpinning her hair before stepping into the steaming water.

A sharp rap followed by the clinking of china alerted Lizzie to the nurse's return. "I'll be right... out." She almost giggled as Nurse Harding's arm shot through the bathroom door to take the dirty linens. If nothing else, the woman was certainly efficient. Drying off quickly, she decided on her nightgown for now, she'd dress after she ate and took a nap.

Lizzie left her long auburn hair down, brushing it quickly before approaching the small table to seat herself before a sterling tray that held a teapot and a delicate bone china cup, both cream and lemon, sugar, fresh butter and a dish of freshly baked scones. Two cups of tea and three scones later, she went in search of a book that had caught her eye and the comfort of the bed.

******

Lizzie had barely gotten through the first chapter of Jack London's novel "The Call of the Wild" before she was asleep. She woke with a sharp cry at the sound of Nurse Harding's rapping at the door followed by her voice.

"Are you all right, Mrs. O'Neill? I heard you cry out."

"I must have been... dreaming. I'm sorry," she managed, flustered and unable to look into the woman's face. Her dream, still vivid, had been a jumble of hands and bodies -- Mr. O'Neill's she thought -- though the face had most certainly been Dr. Cameron's. His mouth on her breasts, his hand down there, her legs parted to allow his body... Lizzie grabbed her clothes and ran for the bathroom to dress, coming out only when she was certain the nurse had gone.

Lizzie spent the rest of the afternoon reading, entranced by the book whose protagonist was a dog named Buck, half-wondering if Dr. Cameron had read it as well. It seemed a man's story after all, she mused, finding her thoughts were turning more and more often to him as the day progressed.

 

[chris2c4u]

Dr Cameron entered Lizzie's room just a few moments after Mrs Harding - nurse, cook and general factotum - carried in a tray with two bowls of cock-a-leekie soup and some bread. Dr Cameron had asked her not to lay a table but to bring the necessary tableware with the courses, to prevent Lizzie becoming nervous about etiquette and worrying about using the wrong piece of cutlery.

He smiled when he saw Lizzie in the lamplight, the soft glow tangled in the strands of her newly washed hair, the fragrance of the bath salts still clinging lightly to her skin.

James smiled, "she looks much better, don't you think Nurse?" They both studied her glowing face and Lizzie smiled and dropped her gaze with a slight blush.

As they were left alone Dr. Cameron opened a bottle of wine and with an inclination of the bottle to her his gesture asked if she would join him.

Wine was for Christmas, she thought but still gave a little nod and the ruby liquid ran into the glasses whose twisted crystal stems bent the gaslight into shards.
Over the soup they made smalltalk and discovered the mutual liking of several books. "And does your husband read?" James asked casually to which Lizzie retreated a little into her shell again, bending to take a spoonful of soup. "He is busy. And he has his club. He reads the paper."

He didn't press the matter but by the time Mrs Harding had brought the main course of chicken, Mrs O'Neill was a little flushed with the wine and was hinting at the circumstances of her marriage. The debts. James wondered - did she think she had been traded to her husband? Bought?

"Thank you Mrs Harding," said the doctor, "we'll see you in the morning."

"Bright and early," said the nurse; with a wave to Lizzie she left them to their meal.

Before she began to eat Lizzie said without meeting the doctor's eyes, "I am fond of Stephen..."

"Fond?" James could not help interjecting.

"I...I love him..." The doctor sensed a "but" but again did not press her when she did not elaborate, as she seemed to be slowly opening up a little more. "Nice chicken," he murmured as she took a bite.

By the second glass of wine they had talked also of theatre and dancing, the latter of which they were both fond. "A pity I don't have a gramophone," said James.

"My husband dances well," Lizzie continued, "we go occasionally still. I do love him it's..."

Dr. Cameron nodded, "your problem is one of intimacy," he said; for a moment she met his eyes and nodded. "I don't think I please him," she whispered.

"Rather," he said, "is it not that he had not pleased you?"

Her gaze was defensive of her husband once again but he continued, "we have seen how the treatments are able to cause a powerful response from you. They are to help with your complaint. However, the tretment - the touches - can also be produced by your husband learning how to...arouse you."

"It can be taught then? What you did..." she blushed.

"It can be taught," he took a sip of wine, "you don't have to have gone to medical school to learn it. But you must help him too. You must both explore your bodies responses to such stimulation."

She looked confused for a moment and James asked, "would you like me to show you what I mean? Again, as with the treatment it will involve touching you intimately."

She bit her lip and her head was a whirl from the wine and from desiring to know more of this matter. Eventually she gave a little nod and James asked her to put on just her nightdress and then to return to the bed. He removed his jacket and waited until she returned from the bathroom in her nightgown.

She lay upon the bed as he requested and felt him settle beside her. "You must not be afraid, when you are with your husband, of being naked and of letting him touch you..." as he spoke his hand played lightly over the cotton of her nightdress; she felt his fingers brush against the swell of her breasts hidden under the white garment. It was not accidental; his hands rested upon her body there making her breathe deeper and swallow.

"You must tell each other what you like - and what you dislike even...perhaps you don't like tickling?" he slid fingers quickly under her side and tickled her waist making her wriggle and laugh. "Or perhaps you do." He smiled. "Make it fun to explore with him."

They looked at one another as slowly James slowly pulled up her nightshirt revealing her legs, his hands caressing her feet for moments and her calves. His fingers massaged the soft skin behind her knees and Lizzie closed her eyes her hands plucking at the bedspread as she felt his caress roaming higher, carrying the nightdress with it.

She knew she was exposed to his gaze, his hands on her hips. "Do this with him Lizzie, let him see your desire and how you want to be touched. The way you want touching..." His hands had reached the top of her legs, his thumbs making small turning motions against her warm inner thighs.

"Do you like this Lizzie?" She had her eyes closed but she nodded vigorously and with a langorous motion sent a wave, an undulation, down her half naked body, from the small of her back to her pert bottom to the thighs he held.

His fingers, his thumbs now approached her pubic hairs and darted in their curls as her legs parted ready for his touch, which he teasingly kept from her dampening pussy.

"Tell me now what you want Lizzie..."

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Lizzie felt a deep, hot flush (of embarrassment or was it something other?) spreading through her body as the doctor's hands teased over the silky hair covering her mound. Her mind was screaming "Touch me! Touch me! Touch me there!!" but the words withered on her lips despite the fact that he had said it was okay. Tell him? How could she tell him? She didn't know the words!

"Tell me, Lizzie," he repeated, softly, insistently.

"I... " she faltered. "I want you to... touch me."

"Where, Lizzie?" His fingers idly tracing her cleft.

"There."

"Say it... Tell me exactly what you want."

"I... " Lizzie squirmed, the heat and moisture in her privates intensifying with every stroke of his fingers. Knowing that he would not continue until she finally said it, she took a deep breath. "I want... I want your... " Her hips arched and she mewled helplessly. "Touch me... inside." She scrambled for the correct word. "In my... va... gina."

"Your mons veneris," Dr. Cameron said, moving his fingers upward. "These, Lizzie, are your outer labia," he murmured, brushing his fingers over her puffy outer lips. "This," he paused, parting her with his thumbs, "is your vulva. And this," he said as he gently touched her distended nub, making her gasp, "is your clitoris. These your inner labia... and this, your opening," a finger brushed against it for emphasis, "is your vagina."

Lizzie writhed against his hand, gyrating her hips though she listened to every word he spoke, memorizing. Mons, labia, clitoris... It was all too much. It seemed so... cold and impersonal somehow when it was so much... so very much more.

As if reading her mind, Dr. Cameron nodded and continued, though this time it was his turn to hesitate. "Clinical terms. There are many others... pussy, for one. And just... clit," he added, his fingers rubbing and circling as he concentrated on her response, the sound of her breathing, the look on her face.

She nodded, though the sensations that coursed through her body had begun to usurp any cogent thoughts she might have had. "Inside... ohh... inside, please... "

"Tell me... "

"Put your fingers inside my... pussy." Lizzie drew in her breath sharply as Dr. Cameron slowly inserted one and then two fingers as she asked, though his thumb hadn't stilled against her clit.

She was gyrating wildly now, grinding against his hand, his fingers as they moved in and out of her slick wetness. Torturously slow at first, and slightly faster, their rhythm increasing with the rocking of her hips.

Lizzie's head tossed back and forth wildly against the pillow. "Close. Close. Close," she chanted, not knowing if it was in her head or if she had spoken aloud, nor caring. Her entire body tensed in preparation, she held her breath expectantly. Bathed in a combination of wonderment and awe, Lizzie let it wash over her... let the ripples radiate before pulling them back to her center.

Unable to stop herself, she cried out, "I... I'm... pa... rox... ohhhhhhh" Her entire body thrashed as she felt her inner walls clasping tightly around his fingers. Spasm upon spasm of that intoxicating, exhilarating feeling swept over her, though still he didn't stop.

"Come, Lizzie," he whispered hoarsely. "Come... "

 

[chris2c4u]

Dr Cameron watched as Lizzie's body convulsed under his fingers. Her nightdress had ridden up exposing her midriff and the curve of her hips, more than he had seen in the treatment room.

As his fingers slowed, as he drew the last soft moans from Lizzie's still contorted face his own eyes swept across her body, more available to his view. He blushed a little to find himself aroused by the sight and a little more quickly than he intended he removed his fingers from her body and left to wash.

With a whimper lIzzie lay still on the bed and made a half-hearted attempt to cover herself, pushing the nightdress down but still leaving more of her legs on show than was decent.

She smiled at Dr Cameron on his return. "Thank you," she murmured a little surprised he did not return to the bed and went and took a large sip of wine. With a deep breath he turned with a smile to his patient. "Now, you can share this with your husband. Once you can show him how this makes you feel, he will be able to satisfy you and the hysteria should go away."

Lizzie sat up and curled her legs under her, her hair tumbling about her shoulders; James swallowed another gulp of wine at the distracting sight of a patient becoming a woman.

"Lizzie, tomorrow before you go, I would like you to try something for me." She inclined her head questioningly.

"I would like you to explore yourself, in the way you felt me touching you. I want you to feel the way you just felt but at your own hands. Then, if you want to you can show your husband."

She blushed deeply and looked down. "Sir, I have always been taught that such - touching - well, it's not right...I don't know what Ste - Mr. O'Neill would think of me doing that."

"You would tell him it is to help you two, to let him see what such touching can do for your intimacy. Anyway - tomorrow - I hope you will do this - I will help you."

****

So it was that Lizzie O'Neill was in Dr Cameron's treatment room the next day with a medical gown gathered up around her hips, lying this time on a bed for comfort. The doctor was once again seperated from her view by a screen but he could see her naked sex and her hands nervously playing with the sheet she lay on. Gently he took her hands and placed them on her body, one on her thigh one on her tummy.

"Just relax Lizzie. Think of Mr O'neill touching you as you move your hands." He didn't see her face as she bit her lip and blushed, her eyes closing tight. Her palm rubbed back and forth on her thigh and then she suddenly remembered a tender moment she had felt under her husbands hands and tentatively she pushed up the gown, her fingers seeking her breast.

Dr Cameron swallowed as he watched her push the gown up exposing for him her firm young breasts. She raised both hands to them lost in some memory - or fantasy - and caressed their softness, making the aereolas pucker, the nipples to harden into peaks she brushed with her fingertips. With each brush she sighed and her body moved sinuously on the bed.

Encouraged her fingers slid down her, over the soft feminine swell of her tummy to slide through her downy hairs, recalling the feeling of the doctor's fingers until she parted her outer lips with a softly exclaimed, "oh!"

James said nothing as she explored herself - was it really for the first time? Her fingers grew familiar with her lips, with the wetness that now coated their tips as they explored deeper in her, making her shiver and sigh and moan. Slowly, she discovered how to pleasure herself, her hand moving at last to the hooded clit and her caresses followed by groans, her hips undulating as finally she touched the hot erect jewel itself and she released a gutteral moan.

Dr Cameron's voice came to her. "Imagine Mr O'Neill, Lizzie. How you will show his hands what to do, how he will help cure you." She played to the lyrical sound of his voice, to the dreams he triggered in her mind. Her free hand trailed back to her chest to squeeze and caress her breasts, her nipples.

"Imagine his hands on you also..." he slipped a hand under hers as she drew quicker and quicker circles on her clit, his fingers seeking out the heat of her vagina. With a slow movement his finger slid inside her as she continued to play. With a sudden move her free hand came and covered his wrist as he slowly pumped her pussy, her touch urging him to go faster.

"Yes...ohhh yessss..."she closed her eyes and luxuriated in the orgasm that flowed out from his hand, her hand, across her body making her skin flush pink, her head fall back into the pillow.

****

Home. It was two hours after she had lain on the bed in the treatment room and she tried not to see their house as drab after the clinic. Tried not to think of getting back to working in it, being suffocated by it, friendless, with a husband who was nothing like Dr Cameron.

She admonished herself;Steven had been quite kind, getting the cab, having taken the morning off to help her home. Now they were home he told her not to begin working straight away; he even made some tea for her!

They sat in awkward barely punctuated silences until Lizzie managed to say that Dr Cameron had showed her many things they could do to help with "intimacy."

With a nervous nod Steven cleared his throat. "Perhaps...now? We have a little time?"

"May we wait, my dear? Tonight...we can retire early? The doctor said we should take our time and you have work, soon..."

He nodded and sipped his tea to cover his own anxiety, worrying that soon she would know more about intimacy than her husband. She didn't tell him that she was still savouring the feel of the glow that had spread over her that morning.

She spent a little more of the houskeeping than she had planned, later that day, on getting some chicken and preparing it to the recipe that Mrs Harding had given her. Though they did not have wine she poured elderflower cordial for them and decorated the table with some greenery from the garden.

Mr O'Neill smiled and with a squeeze of her hand gave her a longer kiss than usual. Though they were both nervous the meal relaxed them and their was office small talk and local gossip she gleaned from the neighbours in the shops.

There routine in the bedroom was little different as they prepared for bed but instead of hiding under the sheets Lizzie waited for Steven to come to her. She was blushing shyly and asked for the light to be low.

Taking her husband's hand she guided him to her pussy, letting him feel the heat and wetness there. He swallowed and she let his hand go, stammering, "touch me there and I will tell you what pleasures me."

Uncertainly Steven felt her but even though she tugged up her nightdress he could not face looking closely at where he was touching; this was his wife, it was not right to treat her as some factory girl or worse. He did massage her though and slipped his finger inside her as he had done before. She reached for his hand her fingers trying to show him where to touch and with several fumbling caresses she did feel an echo of the pleasures she had had over the two days at the clinic.

"Yes Steven," she moaned, "there..." he tugged at her nightdress and she helped him to pull it up more so his mouth could suckle her breasts. As she moved it excited him and he pressed close; she could feel his hardness against her and not wanting to disappoint, Lizzie indicated she was ready for him inside her.

She enjoyed his warm body over her, enjoyed the feel of his phallus enter her, stretch her. She pushed up, the little jewel she had played with was crushed between them if she timed her thrusts rightly and she breathed harder, deeper...

And it was over. She felt the heat of his seed bathe her walls and he lay panting and still over her.

****

The rest of the week, things got no better and if anything a little worse so that come the Friday once again she was anxious, occasionally tearful - and Mr O'Neill paid Dr Cameron a visit.

The doctor listened and tried not to show his frustration. He thought of the idea he had briefly hinted at at the club.

"Steven - would you do anything to help with this difficulty?"

He nodded; James could see Steven was trying despite his own repressed feeling about what was right between a man and wife in the bedroom.

"Then I have to ask you you see someone."

"Another doctor?"

"No, Steven..." Dr Cameron explained about how a courtesan could teach him how to please his wife.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Dr. Cameron had made all the arrangements for Steven O'Neill, allowing that they would coincide with Lizzie's next overnight at his clinic. In the meantime, the impending day loomed over both himself and his wife. For Lizzie it had become an almost tangible longing for the support and release Dr. Cameron would offer. For himself, it was a mixture of things. Though he was more often and easily aroused than usual, there was a still a certain amount of trepidation lurking in the back of his mind at the prospect of meeting with a... prostitute.

~*~​

Measuring the days of the week from clinic visit to clinic visit, Lizzie was nearly beside herself by the time Sunday evening came around. Although Steven had been more amorous than usual, he seemed so... rushed that she didn't even try to show him what she wanted anymore.

As for touching herself, Lizzie had tried on several occasions but she was so nervous and goosey that she couldn't even bring on a paroxysm of her own accord. That, at least to her, seemed to be the ultimate failure. Dr. Cameron would be so very disappointed in her.

By Tuesday morning, Lizzie's eyes were ringed by dark circles that made her normally pale complexion appear almost lurid. If not for the thought of the book she'd left unfinished and the luxury of just being able to sleep alone and undisturbed, she would have told Steven that she didn't want to go. He, on the other hand, seemed almost giddy with relief to be dropping her off.

Once he had seen his wife safely inside, Steven had the cab take him to his own appointment. The woman's name was Belle Lassiter, Dr. Cameron had said, and she would be expecting him.

******

The woman who answered the door was nothing like what Steven O'Neill had envisioned; neither painted nor dressed in gaudy clothing, she would have blended in unnoticed among the wives of his friends and business associates. Just as he decided that he'd gotten the address wrong, she introduced herself.

"You must be Steven O'Neill. I'm Belle. Doc Cameron said you'd be coming. Make yourself comfortable." His eyes fixed on her gently swaying hips as she turned, Steven took off his hat and followed her inside, expecting to be led into a parlor only to find himself standing in a dimly lit bedroom.

Belle, noting his surprise, grinned broadly. "Almost every professional has an office, Steven. This... is mine." She moved closer, unbuttoning his waistcoat. "You'll be more at ease without this on," she said decidedly. "I understand you've come to learn how to pleasure a woman. And I love to be pleasured."

Steven felt a flush spread across his face at her words. Perhaps this was a mistake after all. He knew how to please a woman. He pleased Lizzie, didn't he? He started to protest, but Belle placed a finger over his lips to still his tongue. O'Neill, confused by not having the upper hand, could think of nothing to do but obey.

"Sit," Belle bade him, gesturing toward the bed. "Remove your shirt, shoes and socks and any underthings you might be wearing. Once you've done that, we will begin. Or rather, you will."

Belle stayed any further attempt at remonstrance by covering his mouth hungrily with her own and kissing him deeply. Her tongue swept Steven's mouth rapaciously leaving him lightheaded and more than a little aroused. Stepping back again, she nodded approvingly as he began to undress. "Next," she murmured hoarsely, "You will undress... me."

******

Nurse Harding greeted Lizzie as she stepped into Dr. Cameron's outer office. "Doctor will be with you shortly, Mrs. O'Neill. He asks that you go to your room and make yourself comfortable." Leading the way in her own crisp manner, Lizzie followed, unsure whether she was relieved or anxious at being here.

Left alone, she undressed, putting on her nightgown and hanging up her daywear before letting down her hair. She was still brushing her auburn curls when a knock at the door signalled his arrival.

"Good morning, Lizzie," he said, smiling. "How did your week go?"

Unable to stanch the tears that welled up in her eyes, Lizzie shook her head sadly. "I... I... Oh, Dr. Cameron! I tried, but... "

Crossing the room, James Cameron, struggling to control his temper, wrapped his arms around his distraught patient as she sobbed uncontrollably. "No, Lizzie. I'm sure you didn't fail. In fact, I'm certain that you did your very best. These things... take time."

"But... I... not even once... Not even... by myself."

 

[chris2c4u]

Doctor Cameron held her for a moment, before realising how wrong that was. Lizzie...Mrs O'Neill was a married woman and a patient. He released her slowly so as not to alarm her and smiled kindly at her.

"Now, let's have a sit down, a cup of tea and talk about your week," he said,

He listened after she had washed her face and they shared tea. It was what he expected and he sincerely hoped that Mr O'Neill was at that moment beginning to learn valuable lessons.

"Lizzie, today you must again practise how to bring yourself to release. You will be the one to tame the hysteria and when you do you will be able to share more with your husband the joys you are learning about." She nodded nervously at him.

When they had finished the tea and talked a little more about the books in her room she changed into the shift and accompanied him to the treatment room; she felt a little light headed, as much as she felt assured of a release here, in this place where there was no one she need please - no one but herself.

She pulled the thin fabric up and after he asked if she was ready he began to gently caress her genitals. His touch was so gentle and assured she soon became excited mving her hips against his hand.

"Now Lizzie," he said, "you take over...cover my hands with yours..."

She was reluctant at first as it meant she would lose the touch of his warm fingers on her, in her but she reached for him at last and he withdrew his fingers, watching as she explored herself, learning quickly the ways of pleasuring herself.

She became quite vocal and Dr Cameron took notes as he observed, as her hips rose to meet the caresses and probes of her fingers.

"Ohhh...yesss Doctor..." her fingers flew to her clit, swirled on her. He heard the long, drawn out mewl of pleasure as he saw her exposed midriff ripple and tense with the waves of pleasure spreading out across her body. He smiled knowing how she would feel, the hysteria banished a little.

He waited a suitable time and until she was covered up before removing the screen, checking her pulse and asking how she felt.

"We will do this again later," he said and indicated se should go to her room if she wished.

"Sir?" Lizzie pushed back a strand of hair that had escaped her pony tail and looked sheepishly at the doctor.

"Yes Lizzie? You can speak out here, you know that? Do you have a thought?"

She nodded. She blushed. "I think it would be easier if I spoke to you from the other side of the screen, please? It is still difficult for me to speak openly of these things."

He smiled and placed the green cotton screen on it metal frome between them. In this medical confessional she sat on her hands and looked down.

"The last time I was here, when we were in my room...you did not use the screen. I was wondering if - we might do that again. It is good to see you...I mean I can then think of someone - I mean Mr O'Neill being there and seeing me do all the things you are teaching me. I thought it might be easier for me to learn to be open with him if it was more like it is when we are intimate..."

"You're a very wise woman Lizzie and I agree with your suggestion completely." Lizzie smiled and looked up, at the screen, which the doctor rolled away as he grinned at her.

"You are making progress," he said, wishing for her sake her husband was too. "And we shall do it in your room rather than the treatment room. Come, let's go there now."

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Belle Lassiter & Steven O'Neill

Taking his hands, Belle pulled Steven to his feet, eyeing his unclothed body appreciatively. It wasn't often that she had the opportunity to give rein to her own libidinous nature in her line of work, most of her clients being rather self-indulgent. Truth, she was eagerly looking forward to educating this man. If he learned readily, she had everything to gain, and so did his wife.

Guiding his hands to her breasts, Belle knew that he could feel the way her taut nipples strained against the material. "If you want to see these, Steven," she winked coquettishly, "You will have to unfasten... these."

As Steven's fingers fumbled at the buttons, Belle soon realized that it was quite possible he'd never undressed a woman before. This was going to be great fun!

The heady scent of the woman's perfume permeated the risqué mise-en-scène that was progressing much too slowly for Steven's taste. Couldn't she see that his manhood had risen to the task, he wondered, almost forgetting why he had been sent to her in the first place. As he tugged her blouse from her shoulders, Steven grabbed at her breasts, pressing his erection against the smooth curves of her body.

"Patience, patience," Belle purred. "My skirt next. And then my camisole."

In his frustration, Steven nearly tore the button free of the material as he hurriedly lowered her skirt over Belle's curvacious hips, allowing it to fall into a puddle at her feet before tackling the undergarment that would bare her magnificent breasts to his view. Lizzie's were not nearly as large.

Belle laughed with delight as his eyes feasted on her nearly naked form, her hand snaking behind his neck to pull his mouth closer. "Suckle if you like," she murmured. "But only for a moment."

She gasped as he grabbed them, stuffing his mouth like a boy after stealing a sweetcake from a baker's stall in the market. Belle enjoyed a bit of roughness now and again, but that is not what James Cameron had engaged her services for. "Slowly, slowly... It seems that I am still overdressed for this appointment, yes?"

Steven looked up into her eyes as she drew one of his hands away, placing it between her legs. He could feel her heat and a certain wetness there that aroused him even further, his erection throbbing almost painfully for release.

Sensing his mounting impatience, Belle stepped back abruptly. "My knickers, if you please."

She grinned lewdly as O'Neill tugged them down, his eyes riveted on her neatly trimmed mons. "Now... " Belle whispered. "Your lesson truly begins. Touch me."

 

[chris2c4u]

The doctor had Mrs Harding bring lemonade and let Lizzie rest and read for a while, as he wrote up her notes. He found himself glancing at the young woman as she lay on the bed reading. After a while she became a little restless and he asked if she were ready to begin. She nodded and he moved to sit on the bed.

With a blush she pulled up the shift her hands roaming her body, pushing the fabric higher, exposing her breasts. She kept looking at the doctor as she did so, determined to break down the shyness she felt hindered her communication with Steven. If only the could lie on the bed instead of swaddled in its blankets, the would surely be much better.

She gave a little gasp as she ran her hands over her sensitive breasts; with a squeeze she offered them to the doctor's wrapt gaze before running her nails closer and closer to her nipples. She found herself writhing a little her legs spreading and closing, one knee the the other bending up and her legs falling open. Her hands slid down to where she knew she was already wet with the thoughts of the excitement she was now becoming confident of producing in her.

Her fingers played on her lips, opening herself up wanting to tell him to look at her most private parts, to inspect her as she slide a finger into the moist heat of her sex.

Doctor Cameron smiled encouragingly, even as he recognised his own arousal at seeing this beautiful young woman masturbating in front of him. He reached down to pick up his black leather medical bag and murmured to her to carry on. "Let's try this too," he said.

She was stroking her sex, her fingers turning on her clit when she felt something at the entrance to her pussy. She gasped.

"Don't stop Lizzie, carry on and imaging Mr O'Neil on top of you and this is him entering you." With slow, gentle motions, Dr Cameron slid the smooth dildo into her body. She moaned at the unusual feel, her hand stil turning on her clit as her other fingers sought out the new object sliding into her, spreading her pussy - yes, like Mr O'Neill did for the brief time he was in her.

With ehimers and moans she felt the object slowly withdrawn and then slipped back in, following the undulations of her own hips and she blushed at how this was so arousingly like the sex she had dreamed of since the treatment had begun.

She was gasping wordlessly, her mouth open, her intent gaze on the doctor's face as he slide the dildo in and out of her slick, wet sex. She moaned and lifted her hips, her fingers swirling, he body clutching the invading sex toy. "Ohhhh doctor..." She came again, more intensly than before in the treatment room and sobed with happiness as she slumped to the bed, satisfied again.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Belle Lassiter & Steven O'Neill

Steven obediently thrust his fingers between Belle's legs; his scanty experience with women telling him that he would soon be satisfied as his manhood jutted out proudly. "Wouldn't you rather lie down?" he asked, curiously, wondering how they would manage with her standing.

"Mmm... " Belle murmured, nodding. Perhaps it would be best, though she knew what O'Neill was expecting and what she had in mind were almost at cross purposes.

Stepping away from him, his hand slipped from between her legs as she sat down on the bed, propping her back against the pillows and spreading her legs. He was on her in an instant, but she pushed him back, clicking her tongue to admonish him. "Not yet, Steven. There are things I would like to show you first."

Confused and a little angry, Steven sat back on his heels, still positioned between Belle's legs. "Wh-what? Are we not going to... "

"Of course we are," Belle purred. "Is fuck the word you were looking for?" She studied his face as it reddened, understanding that it was a mixture of embarrassment, curiosity and arousal and she intended to use all of that to her advantage.

"There are many who believe that having sex is solely for the purpose of procreation. Of course this is true, but there are other things to bear in mind. Pleasure, Steven. Pleasure for both the man and the woman. This is why Dr. Cameron has sent you here."

Belle stared intently at O'Neill who was trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to hide his tumescence beneath his hands. "You don't have to hide your arousal, Steven. My own is not as overt, but it is there nonetheless. The wetness you felt when you touched my pussy. Yes... women get aroused. It's quite natural, you know. Men have erections when they are aroused. In women, the clitoris and inner labia become swollen, erect and somewhat enlarged. The vagina produces a slick secretion or lubrication. As arousal continues in women, the upper area of the vaginal canal also expands a bit, which can result in an "empty" feeling inside."

He nodded as she continued, though she felt he wasn't buying any of this. "Orgasms it is then. An orgasm is the peak of sexual arousal. In a man, the orgasm involves the ejaculation of semen... In a woman... the orgasm is a series of muscular contractions in the vagina that also may or may not cause a secretion."

Belle felt her inner muscles tighten and relax as she spoke; her nipples, as hard as adamantine, ached. Little did this man know how she longed to have him touch them, bite them, suckle them. She sighed. Patience, Belle, she chided herself. All in good time. All in good time.

"Have you ever looked at a woman's genitals, Steven? I mean really and truly looked. Close up?"

He didn't answer, but Belle knew that he had not and nodded. Whether he realized or not, all of this would help him to learn as well as to understand what made a woman tick -- and make him a better lover in the long run if she taught him well enough.

O'Neill's eyes glanced down between her legs, entranced. "What you are seeing are my labia majora, Steven. They are called the outer lips, or nether lips sometimes. If you part them with your fingers, you will see... "

She gasped as his fingers plunged rapaciously into her slick cleft. "No... " she whispered hoarsely. "Just... hold me open."

Belle swallowed hard, fighting the urge to press up against his hand as he spread her, his fingertips grazing lightly against her clitoris as he did so. "That... is my clitoris." She bit her lip to keep from crying out. "If you rub it a bit, you can feel a harder portion that is the shaft of the clitoris. Mmm... "

She writhed against his hand as he touched her, fighting a losing battle despite her willpower to resist. "The clitoris... " she gasped, "is the primary source of most women's genital sensation."

Reaching down to guide his hand, she showed him what she liked and where. Belle didn't keep her body still, wanting O'Neill to see and hear her desire and her pleasure. She'd been on the verge of an orgasm almost since he'd begun to undress her and moaned wantonly as he rubbed and rolled her clitoris.

Hovering now on the brink, Belle became more vocal. "Ohh... yesss... that feels soo... " Grinding her pelvis against his fingers, she urged him to place one inside of her. "I'm... gods, Steven... I... Please... don't... stop... I... "

Her body tensed in expectation and just as suddenly crashed when wave after wave of excrutiating sensation overtook her and her entire body began to convulse in a series of shuddering spasms. Her breathing ragged and her heart pounding, Belle looked down at his cock as it began to erupt; thick, white ropes of cum spurting all over his body as well as hers.

 

[chris2c4u]

Steven was pleased to have her naked now; surely soon she would allow him entry to her, to pleasure her as women enjoyed - but no, again she stopped him! "Not yet, Steven. There are things I would like to show you first."

He nodded, embarrassed as she used words - "fuck" - he associated more with the club or with barrack rooms but then thought this woman sells her body - she is not a true woman, like Lizzie. Still, she must know a thing or two about sex and yes, she was right, Cameron had sent him here and he trusted the doctor to do what was best for him.

He frowned a little as she spoke of things she must have picked up from Cameron or some other doctor but then she started using words he had come across - orgasm, he understood that. He knew it meant his ejaculation but she was talking of women too - a similar pleasure for them He swallowed and tried to concentrate though his eyes strayed often over her body, distracting him.

"Have you ever looked at a woman's genitals, Steven? I mean really and truly looked. Close up?"

Steven blushed deeply and his gaze trailed to the top of her legs wondering what she would do and as if in answer she unfurled herself, exposing her sex to his gaze wantonly. He licked his dry lips, the words she used going over his head as he feasted his gaze on her. At her seeming invitation he pawed her but slowed quickly when she told him to - he was beginning to enjoy the waiting, the lesson, the idea of giving her pleasure she seemed to be already feeling.

"That... is my clitoris." She bit her lip to keep from crying out. "If you rub it a bit, you can feel a harder portion that is the shaft of the clitoris. Mmm... "

She kept talking as he touched her as he leaned in closer to observe his wet fingers touching the hardness of her clit emerging from its hood and she was talking, a parody of a dispassionate description of arousal but he knew - yes, he was arousing her and he watched her body writhe, listened to her voice crack as he did so.

He was completely aroused as her hand guided his against her lips, around her entrance to the canal he would normally by this time be using for his pleasure. He watched as her obvious delight increased.

He watched as she cast her head back and slid down the pillows she leaned on. He watched her writhe and her hips pushing up against his fingers rhthymically. He caught his cock in his other hand as she begged for more, the unknown sensations of arousing a woman making him dizzy as he watched what state she was in.

He saw her muscles contract, her legs tensed, feet pointed her ass coming up off the sheet as she surely reached the peak she had told him of.

Unconsciously his fingers had been stroking his cock and now he spurted, the stream of his semen shooting against her inner thigh, once, twice...

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Lizzie's hands fell away from her sex as she fell back against the pillows, though Dr. Cameron did not cease the steady, deliberate in-and-out motions he'd been making with the object. He had, in fact, increased the tempo, and she found her hips bucking up eagerly to match it. If only... If only it were... Gasping at the vehemence of her renewed arousal, her prurient longing for the weight of her husband's body on hers, the frenzied wish that it was his erection moving within her needy sheath, she closed her eyes, willing Steven's face to materialize though it was another's she saw there. Another's face. Another's eyes. It was his body. His penis... his cock!

Unable to hold back, Lizzie's hands gripped the sheets beside her body as she cried out, her mind lost in a red haze of lust, "Ohh... yess... I... Jamesssss!! Heedless of the name she'd inadvertently called out, her body tensed and exploded in what was, by far, the most intense paroxysm she had experienced to date. Her body shook, her heart pounded and her breath came ragged as Dr. Cameron continued to manipulate Lizzie's spasming pussy with the implement for a few moments longer before finally withdrawing it.

Slowly, slowly she opened her eyes as the sensations began to ease, though neither of them spoke.

******

Ignoring all sense of reason and the purpose of Steven O'Neill's presence, Belle Lassiter's hand smoothed across her cum-slathered thighs as he watched, drawing her fingers toward her mouth and tasting. "Mmm... " she murmured, holding his eyes while surprise, disgust and even wonder played over his features. Well, well, well, she thought. Isn't he in for a treat?

Gesturing for him to stay where he was, Belle drew herself up and slithered snakelike until she was propped in front of his flagging penis. Taking it in her hand, she bent closer, knowing that his eyes were as frozen on her movements as his body was, inexorably rigid and as still as a statue. Purring, she began to lap at him, cleaning his cock of the remaining droplets of his seed and smiling when she felt it begin to stir.

"Enjoy, Steven," Belle whispered, revelling in the sense of power she held over this sexually naive man. "It will be my turn next."

O'Neill groaned as her mouth parted and her lips drifted downward, engulfing his semi-erect shaft and suckling as he began to swell. He almost squealed in protest when she let it slip from her mouth, but it was far from over. "Delicious!" The lewd look in Belle's eyes told him it was so when she grinned and wrapped her fingers around his cock, stroking even as she lowered her mouth over him once again.