Doctor's Household Erupts in Chaos
As I stroll through the courtyard to the entrance of the manor, I'm awestruck by its simplicity. The lawn is perfectly manicured, the foliage shaped in simple geometric patterns, the red roses and tulips all the same shade. It's a remarkable display of affluence, even if it's not aesthetically pleasing at first glance. Maintaining the hedges this neatly must require constant trimming. Although Marchioness d'Alembert might not be my wealthiest client yet, her husband's manor is the most remarkable I've come across. Even the door is plain, with no elaborate decoration; just a big indentation in the center, and a white gold knocker. When I knock, the resonating, vibrant ringing tells me that it's constructed of rosewood, showcasing the marquis's immense wealth.
A young woman, who appears to be around 25, opens the door, styled like a maidservant. I introduce myself, "I'm Doctor Thomas Maxwell. I've been called by the Marchioness."
She nods and vanishes into the house, shutting the door behind her. I wait patiently for a few moments. It's eerily quiet; I don't even hear a bird chirp. I guess there aren't any trees nearby, but this understanding doesn't make the silence more comforting.
The maid returns shortly. "Come in, sir, follow me, please." She opens the door and I follow her in. She leads me down a long, open hallway and I'm struck once again by the lack of decoration. All the materials are exquisite, most of them from around the world, but there's very little artwork. And even the artwork that's there is pure and uncomplicated. I also count an excessive number of candlestick holders - there's not a single lightbulb in the entire manor, making it all seem a bit antiquated. But then we turn a corner, and I spot an incredibly ornate door. Carved into it appears to be a Baroque masterpiece, intricately detailed, divided into panels as if telling a story. The doorframe, I observe, is ebony, and the handle is made of rose gold. The maid opens the door and introduces me: "Doctor Thomas Maxwell, my lady." She then steps aside, motions for me to enter, and walks away. I enter the room and see what I can only assume is the Marchioness d'Alembert, perched on a beautiful, red velvet chair with plush, carpeted arms. If I'm to treat her hysteria the way I usually do, these arms might be an issue, but I'll address that when necessary.
Despite the Spartan-like nature of her manor, it complements the Marchioness's looks beautifully. Her dress is plain, red with black accents, but the red is a rich, deep shade, more saturated than anything I've ever seen. Her lips are dyed a similar color, and her hair is jet-black, matching her dress's trim. Her features are plain, except for the exquisite details. Her face is oval-shaped, with a slight olive complexion. Her lips are slightly pursed; she exudes nobility.
I bow slightly and present myself, "Good afternoon, your ladyship, Doctor Thomas Maxwell at your service."
The Marchioness sits up a little and speaks, "Doctor Maxwell, I've invited you based on the recommendations of other noblewomen in this area. I know you can treat hysteria without using the new electrical devices, is that accurate?" The word "electric" carries a malice I've never heard anyone use when discussing a person's name.
"That's true, your ladyship. Did you call me for that reason?" I figured that's what she wanted, as my other patients often say she's severely hysterical and in desperate need of this treatment.
"That's right, yes. What would this treatment involve?" I notice her shifting her weight in her chair slightly, while her hands remain stationary on her lap.
"Well, your ladyship, as you're probably aware, the standard treatment for hysteria involves stimulating the genitals for an extended period to release your excess feminine energy. Would you allow this?"
"Yes, doctor, if it will indeed alleviate my hysteria."
"Very well, your ladyship." I survey the room, looking for a different seat that doesn't have those obstructing arms. My gaze falls on a sofa directly across from a large bay window. "May I make a request? Could you move to that couch over there? The arms on your current seat would hinder my access."
"Of course, whatever you require, doctor." She rises from her seat and moves to the chair, and I see that her attention is drawn to the window. I walk up and kneel down in front of her, noting her increased breathing.
"Your ladyship, may I lift your dress?" I inquire.
"Yes, doctor, whatever you need." Her tone is abrupt, her voice drier than before. I raise her dress by the trim.
I'm taken aback to discover that the Marchioness is completely bare beneath her gown. I had assumed she was unaware of what was going to transpire, but it seems I was mistaken. It's hard to imagine this is her typical attire. Her vulva appears nearly hairless, only slightly more than most of my patients. Her labia is open slightly and glistening. I gently tug at her dress, exposing her stomach area, so she can see my actions if she desires.
"My lady, are you ready to commence treatment?" The Marchioness stares down at me, her cheeks flushed.
"Yes, proceed." She shifts her gaze to the window once more. I carry on with what I'm doing.
Her wetness is quite noticeable, either from perspiration or natural lubrication. I softly caress her thighs to increase blood flow to the region. I stop after a while, monitoring her reactions. The twitching halts, indicating she's adjusted; I inch a tiny bit closer. Her breathing becomes deeper as I approach the vulva. When I eventually reach it, I hear her gasping softly.
"Are you alright, my lady? You seem a little tense."
"Continue, doctor." Her tone is curt, her attention still on the window. I presume she feels vulnerable, even self-conscious, which is typical among first-time patients.
I delicately outline her labia, causing her to shiver. She'sъ quite slick, more so than most of my patients. I spread her labia gently, revealing the clitoris. I detect her shaking, so I farthest from it for the moment. I start moving my fingers down her vagina.
I preliminarily insert my index finger, assessing her level of openness. To my surprise, it slips right in. The Marchioness isn't completely calm, and it'll likely take some time for her to adapt to anything beyond this. However, her vagina is extremely well-lubricated, allowing my finger to slide almost effortlessly.
"Uh, my lady," I mutter. She suddenly pushes her pelvis toward my hand and wriggles.
"Doctor, continue." The Marchioness's speech is strained and laborious, but she's making a conscious effort to enunciate. I'm stunned, but I continue. She pushes her pelvis against my hand once more, so I grab her and deter her from further movement. "My lady--"
"Proceed," she commands somewhat impatiently. I glance at her face. Her eyes are shut, with her head slightly tilted back. Her hand rests on her forehead, her digits curled back. Her small finger touches her nose's bridge, the rest encircling her hairline, perhaps an inch apart.
"I'm about to start the primary phase of therapy. You may find it somewhat intense. I asked only because I wished to inform you."
"Get on with it." She remains silent, though a considerable amount of tension seems to have dissipated from her muscles. "Especially now, you should permit your body to respond freely." Her response evokes no instant reaction, but I sense her muscles relax significantly. "You're doing wonderfully. To achieve maximum benefit, it's crucial to relax."
She doesn't instantly answer, but I sense the tension dissipate from her muscles. "Very well, my lady." My index and middle finger lubricated, I slowly insert them into the Marchioness's vagina. I note her legs tremble significantly. I cautiously retract them. She unexpectedly clutches my fingers and keeps them inserted, holding them in place.
"I'm fine. I just need to grow accustomed to the sensation." Although her voice is once again measured, I sense she's making a considerable effort to maintain her composure.
The noblewoman lets go of my hand and positions them at her sides. She then stretches her legs a bit wider. "Carry on with your treatment, doctor." Her tone doesn't sound as strained and measured as before. In fact, she's seemingly absorbed my advice.
"Alright, ma'am." I start by gently inserting my fingers in and out of her vagina, barely moving them an inch at a time. I can feel the woman writhing and shuddering. Her breathing is deep but unsteady. It's evident that she's got a lot of tension built up inside, and she's only now releasing it. I pick up the pace slightly, aiming for about 90 beats per minute. The noblewoman starts moaning softly. Though quiet enough to avoid attention, her moans are definitely there. Based on this, I continue at a steady speed. I notice the walls of her vagina tighten and lubricate, indicating she's nearing climax. The noblewoman's moans increase in volume, and her movements become more intense. It takes all my strength to keep her still and maintain a consistent rhythm.
All of a sudden, the walls of the noblewoman's vagina clench and her body convulses. This is a surprise, as my other patients' orgasms are usually more drawn-out. But it doesn't matter. For around forty seconds, I keep up the same pace before slowing down gradually to a halt and taking my fingers out.
I take a short break to ease the pain in my wrists and glance at the noblewoman. She's sitting up, her head thrown back, gasping for breath. I allow her a few moments to compose herself before packing up my things. "Does my lady need anything else, ma'am?" I inquire.
"No, Doctor," she replies, looking over at me and blinking slowly. After a while, she adds, "Don't forget to remind me of your fee." Her voice is labored, clearly fatigued.
"Four guineas, ma'am."
"Alright, Alice will get that for you when you leave." I bow my head, gather my supplies, and make my way out of the room, back to the depressingly empty hallway. Once again, I'm stunned by the stark contrast between the study's emptiness and the noblewoman's vibrant persona. "Doctor!" I hear her call out from the study.
Thinking quickly, I rush back inside. "Yes, ma'am. What's the matter?" The noblewoman is still in the chair, her eyes wide open in fear, but otherwise unharmed.
"I-- if my hysteria were to return..." she hesitates, then looks away, seemingly embarrassed. I recognize this in other patients; I attempt to reassure her.
"Yes, ma'am. It's happened before with other patients. If it recurs, please feel free to reach out to me again. I'll be happy to help."
The noblewoman's body appears to relax, and she gives me a pleasant smile before closing her eyes. "Thank you, Doctor. You may leave now." I nod and exit the study, entering the sparse, unadorned remainder of the manor once more. I can't help but speculate whether she decorates her private quarters to her liking, considering how she tolerates the rest of this boring place. "Will it be days or weeks before the noblewoman summons you again, Doctor?" I wonder to myself, hoping it's sooner rather than later.
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