Science at St Mary's

Wilbert-Brown nodded and sighed. He gestured at Quinten to let go of Jane's arms and she immediately covered her exposed pussy with both hands. He drew up a chair next to her. "Jane, Jane, please stop this crying now. There, now." He passed her his handkerchief.

Jane kept one hand firmly clamped on her vulva as she blew her nose and glanced furiously at O'Reilley. John immediately let go of her thighs feeling distinctly guilty, and let her close her legs.

When Jane had calmed down, Wilbert-Brown murmured gently, "You do masturbate, don't you, Miss Clayton?"

"Yes." her sobbing started afresh.

"Often."

"Yes."

"Oh Miss Clayton! You just don't realise what danger you are in, do you, my dear? Please, dry your tears. Now that your secret is out, perhaps we can proceed more calmly and find a solution.»

Jane calmed down slowly.

"Do you think so Doctor?"

"There's always a solution, that's what I'm here for."

"Please don't tell Mrs Harmsworth."

"I'm afraid that will depend on you, my dear."

"I'm sorry about the fuss. Really. It won't happen again."

"That's the spirit. Finely said, young woman. Here, sit up for a moment."

The doctor sent Quinten to get a glass of sherry for Jane while she pulled up her bloomers, rearranged her shift and sat up on the edge of the table. John O'Reilley looked on with mixed emotions. Jane's confession had seriously shocked him. He himself had masturbated since he was a boy and still indulged frequently to compensate his wife's lack of enthusiasm. But the idea of a woman masturbating seemed almost obscene, the type of thing he'd expect only from artist's models and whores. Certainly not from the pure Miss Clayton.

Jane drank her sherry gratefully and held out her glass for another.

"Now Jane," said Wilbert-Brown, "you do understand that at your age, you may have caused almost irreparable damage. I must check exactly how much, I'm afraid."

"As you wish, Sir." answered Jane, her heart sinking.

Wilbert-Brown patted her shoulder and gestured at Quinten to give her another sherry. When she had finished it, he continued "Now, get down for a moment and take the rest of those clothes off."

She slipped off the table nervously.

"All of them?"

"Every stitch, my dear. I'll need to have a proper look at you."

Jane's cheeks burned crimson. They'd already seen the most intimate, shameful parts of her body, what more could they want? But now that she'd confessed, how could she possibly refuse? Her fingers trembled as she reached for the blue bow of her garter.

"Is this really necessary?" she asked in a small voice.

"Absolutely, I'm afraid."

She took a deep breath and pulled on the bow. The garter dropped silently to the floor and she started to roll down her white woollen stocking. None of the men moved tactfully away as they had before and she was acutely aware of their eyes on her. As she undid the buttons of her shift, she felt that she was stripping away the last shreds of her dignity with her clothes. A woman who masturbated, exposing herself in front of strangers. It somehow felt far worse to undress like this without being forced.

Jane let her shift fall to the floor and looked up at the men in front of her. They were staring at her with a raw desire that had nothing medical about it. Shame flooded through her and her small hands trembled violently when she touched the knot of her bloomers.

"Please." She murmured desperately.

"Hurry up, Miss Clayton, this won't take a minute."

John O'Reilley watched the young teacher tug reluctantly at the string, her heavy, naked breasts quivering and a deep blush spreading down her neck. She hesitated, and then slowly began to push her bloomers down her legs. The doctor's eyes flicked appreciatively from her white thighs to the broad curve of her hip, the crease of puppy fat at her waist and her swaying bosom as she bent over to free her feet. She straightened up, modestly covering herself with her hands.

"Arms by your sides, please, Miss Clayton." Wilbert-Brown said sharply. "Thank you. And please turn around."

Jane did as she was told, and for the second time that afternoon, caught sight of herself in the mirror on the far wall. Again she had the distinct sensation of looking at someone else, some Parisian whore with her hair up, wearing nothing more than a silver necklace, her thick pink nipples jutting proudly, the black triangle of her pussy with its high slit lewdly exposed against the pale skin of her body. Behind her the men in black suits casually observed her buttocks while they finished their sherries. The whole scene looked utterly debauched and disturbingly, she found it deeply arousing. She looked away quickly, suddenly frightened.

"Now turn this way please, and lift your arms horizontally."

Wilbert-Brown stepped up briskly and caught her shoulders in both hands. Jane tried to calm her breathing and stood obediently with her arms stretched as he inspected her naked body, his hands running freely over her breasts, belly and hips. The way he touched her seemed less delicate than it had been previously, a brisk squeeze at her waist, a casual flip on her nipples, a firm grip on her inner thigh to make her move her legs apart, almost as if she was an object. It left her confused, partially reassured by the impression of a neutral, professional examination and at the same time, vaguely humiliated. When O'Reilley stepped up to examine her it was the exact opposite. There was nothing professional in the way the young doctor hesitantly caressed her, his slow touch fuelling the dark, uneasy desire in her belly. When he had finished he was blushing as deeply as she was.

Wilbert-Brown drew up a chair and beckoned to Jane. She turned in a daze, and stood in front of him, her arms passively by her sides. The doctor stared at the triangle of black curls only inches away from him, neatly divided by the twin pink lines of her inner lips.

"Now, my dear," he began, "I appreciate this is awkward for you, but you must bear with me. I need to have a proper look at you, not just a quick glance in the middle of a tussle." He smiled up at Jane, but she didn't share the humour. Her eyes were lowered and she was breathing heavily. "I'd like you to put your left foot up on the edge of my chair ... Excellent ... And now if you would just help me by holding yourself so ..." He guided her fingers and to his surprise, although she flinched, she obeyed without a murmur, spreading the lips of her pussy and holding them open.

Jane never even thought to protest. Her last barrier of modesty had crumbled long ago and for her, this was just another part of a shameful examination. She did, however, feel a distinct, familiar spurt of moisture in her pussy as she pressed down on her vulva. She watched with rising emotion as Wilbert-Brown's chubby fingers approach her slit and let out a small, involuntary sigh when they touched her.

Wilbert-Brown glanced up sharply and she looked away. He fingered her clitoris in silence, intrigued by the ease of her cooperation.

"Quinten, could you get a chair for Dr O'Reilley?"

John sat down and as Jane turned towards him, she distractedly adjusted a hair-pin which had come loose. For a second the doctor remembered her as he had seen her at church the day before, a charming, demure young lady in a black bonnet and gloves, her dress buttoned up to her chin. He looked down embarrassed as she daintily lifted her foot onto the edge of his chair. Her toenails, he noted, were painted red. The pastor would never approve of that. Then his eyes flicked irresistibly to her crotch and watched her small fingers carefully part the slit and press down on each side until her lips were taut little pink cushions around the wet nub of her clitoris.

Under Wilbert-Brown's instructions, John reached forward to touch the crinkled hood and expose the tiny, glistening red pyramid underneath. It was the first time in his life he had heard the word "clitoris". Nothing in his medical training or sexual experience had even hinted that such a thing could be part of a woman's anatomy. Wilbert-Brown went on and on about it but John was incapable of concentrating. His penis strained unbearably as his fingertips ran over Jane's soft, slick flesh and pressed on the tight little nub. Her hips reacted to his touch with tiny instinctive movements, jerking back when he moved too brusquely. He glanced up and noticed she was biting her lower lip. The tips of her fingers pressing on her vulva were white with the pressure.

Wilbert-Brown cleared his throat loudly and O'Reilley finally glanced round.

"I think that's conclusive enough, don't you John?" the old doctor smiled. He stood up and took Jane's arm, guiding her back to the table. " I'm pleased to say, Miss Clayton, that it looks as if there are virtually no serious sequels to your problem. I'd just like one final check and then we'll be finished." He helped her to hitch back up onto the mattress. "Quinten, could you retrieve the cushion that got lost in our little battle a few minutes ago?"

Jane lay back in a haze of shame and erotic confusion, passively letting Quinten draw up her knees and arrange the cushion under her hips so that her pelvis was tipped upwards. She kept her legs shut, but guessed what was coming. Her heart began to race when Wilbert-Brown stepped up and placed his hands on her thighs.

"Surely you are not still embarrassed, Miss Clayton? Come now, open your legs, my dear." Jane parted her knees with a nervous sigh. "As wide as you can without feeling uncomfortable." The doctor pressed gently on her thighs until they were spread almost at right angles to her body. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, blood pounding in her ears.

Wilbert-Brown looked down at her, deeply impressed. His stubby prick ached with an erection which had refused to ease off for the past twenty minutes, and the sight of Jane splayed naked in front of him, the swollen lips of her cunt stickily parted, all made it significantly worse. He shook himself. Patience.

He reached down and placed his finger at the gleaming entrance of her vagina. He heard Jane draw in her breath sharply but she said nothing. The tip of his finger pushed inside. Her vagina contracted slightly but was not exceptionally tight. He pushed in more deeply and encountered no resistance, no sign of a hymen.

"John, would you give me a second opinion?", his eyes twinkled as he looked at his colleague.

O'Reilley carefully inserted a long finger between her soft, oily lips and penetrated deep inside. He added a second finger. It was a snug fit but not that tight.

"You're not a virgin, are you, Miss Clayton?" he asked bluntly. Jane blushed to the roots of her hair.

"No" she answered in a small voice.

"When was the last time you had intercourse?"

"Five years ago" she replied in a whisper. "We were engaged. He died in the Crimea."

Wilbert-Brown stroked his whiskers and moved away, apparently troubled by the information. There was a heavy silence, punctuated only by the occasional mutter from the old doctor as he paced up and down. O'Reilley waited, his fingers still deep in Jane's moist vagina. He had started to remove them, but her hips had moved so sensually as he did so that he had pushed back inside.

Wilbert-Brown finally returned and looked down at Jane.

"Miss Clayton", he began quietly, "I don't mean to meddle in your private life and especially in events which may be painful to you. But you must realise that you are now in significant danger. By losing your virginity, you set off a process in your body that must be continued, otherwise it will work insidiously against you, as your habit of masturbation proves. A woman of your age, with your past, requires frequent penetration simply to maintain her own physical and mental health. Do you understand that?"

"Yes" whispered Jane, much too disturbed by the sensation of O'Reilley's fingers moving inside her to listen closely to what he was saying.

"I appreciate that in our Christian society, that is hardly possible outside marriage," Wilbert-Brown continued, "but it can be done medically. In your case, a few sessions of treatment should suffice." He signalled to O'Reilley to remove his fingers and replaced them with his own, his free hand resting lightly on her breast.

"Miss Clayton, please, open your eyes and look at me. No, no, keep your legs apart for the moment." Jane looked up a little bewildered at the doctor's round, kindly face with it's bristling white whiskers. "You must understand, my dear, that unlike your girls, I cannot cure your habit of masturbation by simple methods. We must train your body to find pleasure only from a man and renew the process you unwisely set off too early. Is that clear?"

As he spoke, he casually searched for her clitoris and began to rub the tip with a light, circular motion. Jane felt an intense glow of pleasure and tried desperately to concentrate on what he was saying.

"The damage you have done to yourself is fortunately not too advanced and I'm confident that after a few sessions you'll be right as rain. But the treatment will only work if I have your complete cooperation. Do you agree to that?"

He squeezed her breast, rubbing the nipple firmly between his thumb and forefinger, sending a jolt of pleasure down her spine.

"Yes Sir" whispered Jane, her eyes wide.

"Very well." He took out his pocket watch. "We have a little over half an hour ahead of us. That should be just enough time. Quinten, could you prepare Miss Clayton?"

Jane lay back, her heart beating wildly. What had the doctor said, what were they going to do? The strange, pale boy loomed over her, his carefully parted hair and thin moustache as precise as a bank clerk's. He produced a small phial of oil and sprinkled a few drops in a neat line between her breasts and down her belly. Jane gasped, instinctively closing her knees and trying to cover herself. Quinten just smiled, placed his hands on her stomach and began a long, firm caress down her body. He repeated the gesture five, six times, until she began to relax, then gently took her wrists and placed her arms by her sides.

O'Reilley looked on, intrigued and vaguely shocked as the boy took one of Jane's breasts in both hands and squeezed hard, his thumbs travelling slowly up to the taut nipple. This was no longer even a pretence of anything medical, Quinten was deliberately arousing her like a, like a ... O'Reilley searched for an example in his limited sexual experience ... like a eunuch in a harem. Jane, he noted with faint disgust, was obviously enjoying it.

She was. As Quinten's hands caressed and massaged her, her body seemed to melt slowly into a limp, erotic mass. She had never felt anything like it and was totally at a loss to know what to do or even think. All she knew was that the dark, disturbing sensation in her belly was spreading through her entire body and that she wanted more. She felt Quinten's hand touch lightly but insistently on her thighs and let them fall open. His palm cupped her vulva and squeezed.

O'Reilley watched fascinated as Quinten's long, effeminate fingers began to rub up and down on Jane's swollen pussy. It was an extraordinary gesture, something he would never have imagined. He was even more surprised to hear Jane begin moaning softly, her hips moving in time with the boy's caresses. He was so absorbed by the spectacle that he hardly noticed Quinten unbuttoning his flies with his free hand and it was only when the boy drew out a pale, curved erection that he suddenly realised what was happening.

"What the devil!" he exclaimed. Wilbert-Brown shot him a warning glance to be quiet and nodded at Quinten. O'Reilley stared incredulously as the boy took Jane's limp wrist and guided it until her hand brushed against his cock. Her fingers curled automatically around the shaft and for a moment she held it loosely. Then suddenly her eyes flew open and she jerked back her hand as if she had been burnt.

"No!" she cried, half sitting up, "what are you doing!"

"Come, come, Miss Clayton!" Wilbert-Brown stepped up quickly. "None of this nonsense. You have agreed to treatment and I expect your complete cooperation."

"No!" she wept, "you can't do this."

"Miss Clayton, will you please lie back!"

"No. I want to go. Let me go."

Wilbert-Brown sighed. She'd been doing so well. He hated to resort to blackmail in such circumstances, but if he had to, so be it.

"Very well, young woman." His voice was irritated and icy, "you're free to do as you please. However, I must point out that if I am to cure your girls of masturbation over the coming weeks, it is essential that their housemistress be above reproach physically and mentally." He paused deliberately "And I don't see how that will be possible if you do not accept treatment."

His words sank in and Jane suddenly realised she was trapped. Mrs Harmsworth would instantly dismiss her if Wilbert-Brown told her everything he knew. And if she were dismissed for masturbation and loose morals, she would probably never get another job. She searched desperately for an answer but none came.

"Please don't." she wept hopelessly.

"Jane, Jane, stop this now." Wilbert-Brown said a little more gently, "I have told you before, and I will tell you again. I can only cure you if you learn to associate pleasure with a man's penis, and considering your past, for the moment that must include" he stressed carefully, "penetration. Is that quite clear? If not, in a few years time, you will end up in a madhouse. I have seen it happen many times."

Jane stared at him, seriously frightened.

"But I can't ... you can't ... It's a mortal sin!" she said in a small, shaky voice.

Wilbert-Brown looked at her sternly. "As I understand it, Miss Clayton, when it comes to sin, you have committed fornication and have been defiling your body ever since. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not blaming you and there are many, many women in your situation, more than you would dream of. But it is my duty to treat you and I intend to do so to the best of my professional knowledge. I just want you to get well, this has nothing to do with morality or immorality. Do you understand?"

Jane nodded doubtfully. Wilbert-Brown smiled. "I also want you to enjoy it. Otherwise the treatment simply will not work. And you do enjoy it, don't you, my dear?"

Jane blushed unhappily, then her eyes clouded.

"I must not get pregnant." she whispered.

Wilbert-Brown patted her shoulder. "Of course not. I am a doctor and I do know what I'm doing. Trust me. Now, could you please lie down again? And just hold Quinten while he takes care of you."

Jane closed her eyes and lay back, deeply confused. Everything her education had ever taught her was urging her to get up and run, but her fingertips touched the soft skin of Quinten's cock, and the moment he put his hand back on her vulva a deep, erotic desire surged back powerfully through her body. Curiously, it felt cleaner, less shameful than before. This was not her fault, just a treatment. She let her legs open wider.

"Come, John." said Wilbert-Brown, turning to his colleague. "I have something to show you."

"You're not seriously going to have intercourse with the woman?" O'Reilley said to Wilbert-Brown as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Of course I am. It will do her the world of good. And so will you, young man. Brandy or whisky?"

O'Reilley blanched. "But it's totally immoral. I would be thrown out of the profession if anyone found out."

Wilbert-Brown sighed. These young doctors. They never understood when they were on to a good thing. "Brandy or whisky, John?"

"Whisky, please."

The good doctor served out two generous glasses and settled into a deep leather armchair before replying to his agitated colleague.