It was on her third visit to the good doctor that Julia Sinclair met Ciara. She had just settled in the padded leather examination chair, her feet up in stirrups, her pale blue skirts and petticoats arranged across her knees. The doctor was sitting between her opened legs, hidden behind the mound of cloth and crinoline, when Ciara knocked discreetly on the door before entering the wood-paneled examination room.
Julia blushed to be seen in such an exposed position, even though the young woman who had pushed the door open could see nothing. Ciara approached the doctor, a note in hand. She was dressed in a plain grey dress, her black hair pulled up in a bun that barely contained her curls. Her skin was pale, a dash of freckles across her cheeks, her eyes green and bright, her lips a pale pink. She averted her eyes as she handed the doctor the note.
The doctor looked up, handsome Doctor Gerald Cooper, proper and busy Doctor Cooper. He glanced at the offered note, a slight frown on his young and handsome face. Julia caught herself staring at him and pulled her eyes back to the ceiling. That note must be important.
Doctor Cooper stood up and apologized to Julia.
"I'm terribly sorry, but there seems to be an emergency. I'm afraid I am needed at the Robinson residence. If you have no objections, I will leave you in the capable hands of Ciara. Though Irish, she is well mannered and I have trained her with the utmost care. Now if you will excuse me." He said, tipping an imaginary hat before taking leave of the two women.
A silent settled in the room. Ciara cleared her throat and took a few steps towards the stool the doctor had left empty.
"Now then," she said, trying to flatten her accent,"what seems to trouble you today?" She asked Julia. Ciara took in the young British woman at a glance, having seen her before in the waiting room. A pale blonde beauty, she had stood out from the matronly women who usually came to Doctor Cooper's office.
Julia was flustered by the doctor's sudden disappearance and found herself unable to speak. She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath.
"I had just started my treatment for hysteria" she managed to squeak out, tense and nervous.
Ciara sighed and brought her eyes down to the young woman's exposed sex. The tall windows at Ciara's back illuminated her view clearly, revealing Julia in intimate detail. Her pussy was framed by an unruly patch of light brown hair, thick inner lips poking out like an ochre mountain range out of a jungle.
"Hysteria," repeated Ciara.
"Yes, most terrible. I'm afraid I cannot seem to stop my hands from shaking. Or crying at the most inopportune times. The treatments prescribed by Doctor Cooper seem to be the only thing that helps," answered Julia.
Ciara placed her fingertips on Julia's pale thighs.
"Very well," she said. "I will start the treatment then."
In truth, Ciara was utterly perplexed by the whole procedure. She knew what she was about to do, knew that she was about to gently masturbate this young upper class woman. And a married one too! Did her husband have no skill in the bedroom? Was the doctor that ignorant of women's desires and needs? These foolish Brits were driving their women insane and calling it chastity! Not even chastity, if Ciara understood the doctor's insane jabbering correctly. According to him, pleasure was not possible for these upper class women. Sexual desire itself was simply not possible for women.
He obviously never talked to any of Ciara's friends! Free from the delusions of these rich fools, the women Ciara knew were eager for the pleasures denied these poor ladies. Pleasures that were not secret, or shameful, but a source of joy in a world often harsh and cruel. These Victorians were not just insane, but blind to what was happening around them.
Ciara felt no desire for Julia's sex. It was compassion that drove her to reach out towards the
young woman.
She drew soft circles on Julia's thighs, larger and larger, drawing her fingertips closer and closer to the exposed pussy. As soft as a butterfly, her fingertips grazed the exposed hood of Julia's clit.
"Oh," exhaled Julia.
"Anything wrong?" Asked Ciara.
"No, not at all. Doctor Cooper usually starts with a more...robust massage," answered Julia.
"Would you rather I used his techniques?" Asked Ciara.
"No! Please continue," answered Julia, a bit too quickly.
Ciara did, tracing her fingertips across Julia's inner thighs, across the taught tendons that linked thigh to groin, from the swell of her buttocks up on either side of her furry lips, until her palm rested against Julia's clit. With her other hand, Ciara started to tease open the thick inner lips. A drop of clear dew had already appeared at the base of Julia's pussy. Her breathing had also tightened.
Ciara pressed down gently with her palm on the swell of Julia's clit, starting a gentle rotation. With her other hand she parted the lips, exposing the pink flesh, spreading Julia's lips like a pair of rosed butterfly wings. She pressed a finger against the entrance of her vagina, letting it rest there, hugged by the moist and hot flesh. She started making small circles with the pad of her finger, massaging the flesh. A flow of moisture oozed around her finger.
"Is this working?" Asked Ciara.
Julia could only blink furiously. Her entire lower body was dissolving into a heated mass, a confusion of red waves pulsing through her body and pinpricks of white hot feelings. Was it pleasure? Julia could barely breathe, her mind swamped by the intense feelings radiating from her sex. A single raw moan was pulled from her lips.
Ciara slipped her finger into the well lubricated sheath of Julia's pussy. She moved her other hand, bringing her thumb to rest on the tumescent clit, circling it with more intense pressure. Julia's pussy opened, moist and hungry, sucking that single finger deeper into her folds. Ciara slipped another finger inside the now hungry mouth of Julia's sex. She started gentle thrusting motions, circling and opening Julia.
Julia held on to the edges of the examination table. It had never been like this. The doctor's touch had been rough, a pounding massage of her labia and clit. She had been hit by the hysterical paroxysms that the doctor seeked to induce, the relief prescribed by the medical profession. But it had never felt like pleasure, really. Relief, yes. A momentary seizure, a flood of blood that blinded her, that generated warm feelings for days after. But this...this was an ecstasy that blinded and opened her eyes, that flooded her sex with blood and sweat and all the rivers of the world.
She pulled her legs further back and apart, seeking a greater opening, a deeper thrust of Ciara's fingers. Ciara sensed it and obliged, increasing her tempo, thrusting her fingers deeper into Julia's drenched pussy.
And it happened, the hysterical paroxysm. But there was no hysteria, just wave after wave of ego crushing pleasure, an opening of the soul just as her pussy clamped down on the fingers probing her depths. Julia's whole body contracted in pulsing waves that shook her from toe to crown, her legs shaking in the stirrups, her hands gripping the arm rests as her spine whiplashed her to and fro.
The waves subsided, leaving Julia flushed and panting on the table. Ciara carefully drew her fingers out of the wet mess of Julia's pussy, drawing a hiss of pleasure from the young lady.
Ciara wiped her hand on a towel and got up. She was unsure as to what to do next. Did the young woman need privacy? Keeping her head low, the Irish nurse started to walk away, headed for the door.
But Julia grabbed her wrist as she walked by, her clutching hand almost painful in its intensity.
Julia stared into Ciara's eyes, looking feverish, her face moist with sweat.
"What did you do to me?" Asked Julia.
"Nothing but what your husband should be doing to you," replied Ciara.
Julia was confused, but did not let go of Ciara's slim wrist.
