Science at St Mary's

Sunday, May 16th, 1869

As "Rock of Ages" thundered out from the church organ, Prunella Drew took a deep breath and fainted, her limp body collapsing onto the hard church pew. A few seconds later, Irene went white and passed out, closely followed by Sarah and Amelia.

On the other side of the aisle, Jane Clayton only realised what was happening when she heard the thump of Sarah's hip hitting the edge of the pew and a distinct yelp of pain above the lusty singing around her. She tightened her lips, hitched up her skirts and crossed over to the senior girls' pew.

She advanced laboriously, tripping over the prayer stools and crushing the hoops of her crinoline past the hysterically weeping girls, but at last she managed to shake Amelia back to her feet and wave a bottle of smelling salts under Prunella's nose. By the time the majestic chords of "Rock of Ages" had died down, all the girls were standing again.

Jane made her way back to her place as discretely as her crinoline would let her. She glanced apologetically at Colonel Fetherington, the school governor, and caught the scornful movement of his eyebrows as he turned his gaze back towards the altar. Mrs Harmsworth, the headmistress, just glared.

Jane's heart sank. There would be hell to pay.

"Enter!"

Jane pushed open the heavy oak door, her heart pounding. The headmistress was not alone in her study, there was a gentleman whom Jane vaguely remembered seeing at church, a man in his sixties with a generous belly, ruddy cheeks and an enormous handlebar moustache.

"Miss Clayton. Dr Wilbert-Brown."

"Delighted, Miss Clayton." the doctor said, getting up with a little bow.

"Sir." curtsied Jane.

Mrs Harmsworth did not invite her to sit down.

"Miss Clayton, would you be so kind as to explain the appalling spectacle at church this morning?"

"The girls are going through a difficult time, headmistress. I think they have romantic fantasies in their heads, they imagine themselves as ... swooning heroines." The headmistress raised her eyes in exasperation and Jane hastily added "Irene doesn't eat enough, and Prunella will tie her corset too tight."

"Miss Clayton," Mrs Harmsworth cut in irritably, "do you really believe the mass hysteria I witnessed this morning is simply a question of diets and corsets?"

"That's not what ..." Jane started, then bit her tongue. After five months of teaching at St Mary's boarding school, she'd learned that it was not at all wise to contradict the headmistress.

"Well, speak up woman. As their housemistress, you are responsible for their conduct."

" If you will pardon my interrupting" smiled the elder gentleman "I am not certain that Miss Clayton could have avoided what happened this morning, even if she had wanted to."

Mrs Harmsworth looked away and said nothing. Jane felt a surge of gratitude to the man.

"I think the cause is elsewhere." he added gently.

The headmistress looked back at Jane, aiming her gaze a few inches above the young teacher's head, her usual and remarkably efficient technique for intimidating staff and students alike.

"Dr Wilbert-Brown" said Mrs Harmsworth "believes that the matter is more serious than you seem to think. He believes that our girls touch themselves ..." the headmistress continued with visible distaste "... down there."

There was a heavy pause. Jane blushed deeply, the headmistress let her gaze travel across the oak panelling of the study to the portrait of one of her grim predecessors. The doctor gently broke the silence.

"It is a question I have been studying for years now, Miss Clayton. Hysteria is all too often caused by improper sexual stimulation. And we now know that repeated masturbation ... when a girl caresses her vulva ..." the Doctor added, as the word was obviously new to Jane.

"Quite, Doctor, I don't think we need too much detail." The headmistress cut in, clearly annoyed that such matters should be spoken of at all.

"My apologies, Madam, it is a delicate subject, but I'm sure an intelligent woman like Miss Clayton will have no difficulty in understanding."

Jane warmed to him. It was rare a man took her seriously, and even more flattering that an eminent doctor should do so.

"I'll do my best, doctor" she smiled.

"Excellent. Now masturbation, as I was saying, is now known to produce all sorts of diseases, from anaemia and migraines, to diminished sight and even jaundice. It is essential to diagnose and prevent it as early as possible. I hope I am wrong about the girls, but it is in their own interest to clear this matter up quickly."

"I understand, Doctor." Jane replied, blushing with a quick flutter of guilt. Of course the girls masturbated, at least she assumed they did. She had at their age, and still did.

"Dr Wilbert-Brown will be checking your girls tomorrow morning." Mrs Harmsworth added dryly. "I have arranged for Nurse Wilson to assist him, and I count on your discretion not to say a word about this to anyone beforehand. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Madam." Jane replied, curious to know what this "checking" actually involved. "What exactly will ..."

"That will be all, Miss Clayton."

"Yes, Madam." She moved to the door.

"Miss Clayton?" Jane turned back. The headmistress was gazing at her with a faintly contemptuous smile.

"You will also be checked."

Jane blushed scarlet and left.

That night Jane lay wide-eyed on the narrow bed in her tiny attic room, her stomach knotted with worry. What would the doctor look for? How could he check such a thing? More importantly, would he find her out? Almost every night her fingers slid down between her legs and stroked away the tensions of the day with erotic dreams of pirates and Viking marauders. It was rare she went to sleep without a sweet, swift climax, usually at about the stage when she was pinned down by handsome thugs, her thighs held open for a tall warrior who slowly unbuckled his belt ... Would the doctor see all that at the examination? Jane suddenly felt horribly naked and vulnerable, as if her most intimate secrets were about to be put on public display. "Pull yourself together, Jane," she said to herself "the doctor is kind and intelligent, I'm fit as a fiddle and I've never ever had even mild hysterics. It'll be fine, just fine."

In the far distance the church clock struck two and Jane concentrated her thoughts elsewhere ... a knife ripping open her tent, the dark hand of an Arab clamped over her mouth, her nightdress torn open and black eyes in the flicker of torch-light ... For a second, she touched the thick curls of her pussy, then drew her hand back. Not tonight, she decided, just in case.

Monday, May 17th, 1869

Jane woke up to a magnificent sunny day and quickly forgot her anguish as she prepared for her French class at the local military academy. She taught a class of twenty-six young officers there twice a week and thoroughly enjoyed it. Not that they were especially good at the subject or assiduous in their work but it was a healthy break from the feminine hothouse at St Mary's boarding school, and the men were extremely pleased to see her. Female company was scarce in this backwood of the Scottish highlands, and the officers went out of their way to be charming. She knew perfectly well that their eyes spent more time on her breasts and hips than on the words she wrote on the blackboard, but there was never a hint of a leer or a displaced remark.

So her morning preparation was not so much a question of grammar and translations, as a good hour and a half spent on making herself as ravishing as possible. Not an easy task at St Mary's where make-up was banned and all dresses were buttoned up to the neck, but a discrete touch of blush and a light trace of kohl on her eyelashes could pass as natural.

Jane fixed her black curls up into an elegant mass high on the back of her head leaving a couple of unruly ringlets to frame her cheeks and looked at herself in the mirror. Her blue skirt blossomed out like a bell from her corseted waist with a slight hint of petticoat showing just above her dainty shoes. The curve of her bosom was modest but it wasn't that difficult to notice that her breasts were set high and firm. "That'll do" she thought, smiling. Her dark eyes sparkled and she daringly added a touch of red to her lips before grabbing her bonnet and heading for the waiting carriage.

The morning went perfectly. Sunlight poured through the windows of the classroom, specks of dust dancing in the beams, as she walked slowly along the aisles between the desks dictating a passage of French. The officers were only a couple of years younger than her, between 19 and 22, but she considered them all as her boys. She watched tenderly as Mathew, a dark, stocky soldier from Leeds scratched laboriously at his paper, lent over to point at a mistake James was making, tapped warningly on Simon's shoulder when she saw him looking at his neighbour's work. The young men followed her sensual figure with their eyes while she walked, blushed and returned to their papers when she caught them looking.

She had lunch in the officer's mess and chatted for longer than usual, totally forgetting she was expected back at St Mary's for the check-up. It was already almost two in the afternoon when a small troupe of admirers gallantly helped her up into the carriage. Jane hitched the edge of her skirt up a few inches as she put her foot onto the iron step and the eyes around her all flicked down instantly to get a glimpse of her dainty ankle and a flash of petticoat. She settled back on her seat with a laugh, smoothed her blue satin skirt around her and waved back as the coachman cracked his whip.

When the carriage pulled up on the gravel outside St Mary's, Nurse Wilson was waiting for her.

"You're late, Miss Clayton" the woman snapped, looking more dour than ever, "you were expected three quarters of an hour ago."

"I do apologise, Mrs Wilson, I was retained."

"That may be, Miss, but the Doctor has better things to do than twiddle his thumbs. You are to go to the summer room straight away."

Jane got down and was surprised to see Nurse Wilson hoist herself up into the carriage in her place.

"Aren't you coming with me?"

"Oh, it's much too late for that, Miss. I have significant duties in the village. The Doctor will take care of you."

Mrs Wilson leaned forward to tell George, the coachman, where to take her. Jane suddenly felt disconcerted, not at all happy to confront the doctor without the dour but reassuring presence of the nurse.

"How did it go this morning?" She called uncertainly.

"Without a hitch" the woman replied, with a frown and a jerk of her head towards George to remind Jane that nothing should be said. "Everything went fine."

The carriage moved away and Jane tripped over the gravel in her dainty shoes feeling distinctly nervous.

"Ah, Miss Clayton" Dr Wilbert Brown greeted her, his bushy white whiskers flourishing, "we were beginning to worry about you."

Jane pulled at the ribbon of her bonnet and started to apologise, but the doctor dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"I'd like to introduce you to my assistant, Mr Quinten" A pale young man who could hardly be over twenty, with a thin moustache and carefully oiled hair, stepped forward and bowed.

"And Dr O'Reilley needs no introduction, of course."

Jane's heart fluttered as the handsome doctor from the military academy stepped forward. The man was tall and powerfully built, and rumour had it that he had explored widely in the Congo. Most of the women at St Mary's had a crush on him and Jane was no exception. She curtsied rapidly with a slight blush.

"Doctor."

He bowed, "Miss Clayton."

"Doctor O'Reilley is a former student of mine from Edinburgh" pursued Dr Wilbert-Brown, "I have invited him to join us today to show him my latest methods. Would you be happy to accept his presence during the examination?"

Jane hesitated.

"I don't know what it involves yet!" she smiled nervously.

"Oh, it's all standard medical stuff, my dear, nothing to worry about! However, I appreciate the nature of what we are diagnosing could prove a little embarrassing."

John O'Reilley stepped forward. "It's entirely up to you, Miss Clayton, if you wish me to leave I will go immediately."

Jane smiled, pleased with his courtesy. "No, I'm sure it's perfectly all right. And I have nothing to hide, I can assure you." She added, blushing.

"Splendid, splendid." said Wilbert-Brown, his eyes twinkling, "I suggest we get down to work straight away. Now Miss Clayton, if you would kindly remove your dress and corset. Quinten will help you if you need any assistance."

Jane looked at him, stunned. No man had ever seen her undressed before.

"Come, come, my dear" the Doctor said gently, "it is perfectly standard procedure nowadays. Surely you know that, a woman of your intelligence. Medicine has become a science, not the guesswork it used to be. I can hardly examine you properly if you're fully dressed, can I?"

Jane nodded silently, and felt a little foolish. She had indeed heard of these modern consultations where the patients were expected to undress. She now deeply regretted agreeing to John O'Reilley's presence but it was too late to change her mind. With trembling fingers, she began to undo the buttons of her dress and was tremendously relieved that the two doctors moved tactfully away to the window and talked with their backs to her. Quinten hovered discretely behind.

As the layers of satin and tulle came off, Jane felt a faint buzz of excitement in the pit of her stomach mixed with her apprehension. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror on the far wall, and found it hard to believe that the woman she saw stepping out of a pile of tulle petticoats in her white bloomers, curly hair swept up elegantly at the back of her head, was really her. With Quinten undoing the laces of her corset behind her back and the two doctors in their black jackets in the far background, it looked more like a painting of a Parisian brothel. It was both deeply disturbing and curiously exciting. As Quinten folded the corset with the rest of her clothes, Jane adjusted a stray lock of hair, checked to see she was as decent as possible, and took a deep breath.

"I'm ready, Doctor."

John O'Reilley turned around and felt his penis stiffen instantly. Jane's lace shift hung loosely on her shoulders, her full breasts obviously free and naked under the cotton. Her knee-length bloomers hugged the soft curves of her hips, the creases at her pubis emphasising the plump triangle underneath. The young woman's dark eyes met his with nervous embarrassment and he looked away.

Dr Wilbert-Brown took things into hand. "Thank you, my dear. Please, come this way." He led her across to a table with a mattress laid on it to improvise a consulting couch and helped her to sit up on the edge. "Now, if you will allow me, we will begin."

For the first few minutes, he ran through a series of fairly benign checks, her eyes, her mouth, her reflexes ... But unlike doctors Jane was used to, he touched her body freely and frankly while he was talking, laying a hand on her thigh, her shoulder or her stomach while he was talking to his colleague. He had a dry, warm touch that Jane enjoyed and despite his forwardness, it was not unpleasant.

"Now Miss Clayton, please straighten your back ... chin up ..." Jane did as she was told and suddenly realised the doctor was calmly undoing the buttons of her shift. Instinctively she raised her hands to protect herself but the doctor just looked surprised.

"Would you prefer to undo it yourself, Miss Clayton?"

Jane blushed furiously, her heart hammering. She fiddled at a button with trembling fingers, then gave up.

"No, Sir."

The doctor resumed his work. "This won't take long, my dear, straighten your back. And please, chin up." He slipped the straps of the shift off her shoulders and Jane's milk-white breasts with their dark pink nipples tumbled into view.

"Excellent, excellent" he muttered, "John, come and have a look at this." Dr O'Reilley stared, not quite believing what he was seeing. Jane's breasts were magnificent, the soft, full curves jutting proudly from her chest, trembling with her rapid heartbeat. He glanced up at Jane's face, her cheeks crimson with embarrassment, and for a second he hesitated.

"John?" Wilbert-Brown's voice broke in a little sharply "Miss Clayton really is a remarkable subject. Come over here ..."

Wilbert-Brown had cupped Jane's left breast and was squeezing it gently. On the good doctor's orders, John O'Reilley reached forward and ran his fingers over the silky skin.

"Hold it firmly from underneath John and lift a little. That's right. Now with your other hand, press on each side of the aureole, just so."

To her acute embarrassment, Jane saw her nipples swell until they jutted thick and firm between the men's fingers. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists.

As the doctors probed and caressed her, Wilbert-Brown kept up a running commentary on what he affirmed was Jane's remarkable sexual health. Apparently few women who indulged in masturbation could hope for a bosom like hers. His obvious admiration was in fact the only thing that kept Jane from protesting, that faint hope that this was her clean bill of health.

At last they stopped, and Wilbert-Brown told her she could do up her shift. Jane breathed a sigh of relief and opened her eyes. The doctor was smiling kindly at her, "There, there, it wasn't so bad, was it, my dear?"

"No" she smiled ruefully and started to get down.

"We're not quite finished, young lady, there is one more point to check. Please lie back. Yes, lie right down, flat on your back ... that's it. Quinten, could you get a cushion to put under Miss Clayton's hips?"

Quinten produced the cushion in an instant and Jane obediently raised her hips for him to slide it under her. Before she had time to realise what was happening, Dr Wilbert-Brown had pulled the string on her bloomers and begun to strip them down. John O'Reilley stared as the soft triangle of black curls came into view and felt a sudden surge in his aching penis.

A second later Jane wailed "No!", caught hold of her bloomers and struggled violently to pull them back up.

"Miss Clayton! Stop this! You're behaving like a hysterical child!" Wilbert-Brown's voice cut in harshly, but Jane was having none of it. She wept and fought and clutched at her bloomers in desperation. "Hold her arms, Quinten. John, take her legs. Quickly man." John O'Reilley caught one of Jane's legs with difficulty, surprised at her strength, while Wilbert-Brown pinned down the other. "This is unacceptable Miss Clayton" the doctor puffed in his exertions, "none of the girls made half so much fuss."

John pressed with all his weight on Jane's knees, Quinten gripped her arms tightly behind her head, and suddenly Jane realised she was defeated. The doctor's words sank in. He had done this to all her girls, all of them. She gave up and wept.

Dr Wilbert-Brown straightened his collar, smoothed his hair and went back to work, stripping her bloomers right down to her ankles. "Spread her legs please, John" he said curtly.

O'Reilley complied. A ribbon of black curls split by a thin strip of pink appeared between the young teacher's soft white thighs.

"Now, let's see what all this fuss was about." muttered the doctor as his chubby fingers touched the plump mound of her vulva. He opened the long lips like the petals of a flower and O'Reilley could see right down to the dark ribbed entrance of her vagina. He'd never in his life seen any woman as intimately as this, not even his wife, and his hands gripped unnecessarily tightly at Jane's knees.

Wilbert-Brown was clearly interested in a small nub of flesh right at the top of her slit, protected by a hood of skin which he drew back. The doctor rubbed it gently a couple of times, waiting for a reaction. O'Reilley didn't see anything actually happen, but he could have sworn it had grown fatter.