ThePleasureDevice (9 page)

“And what would you rather be doing?”

“Reading a book.”

Dr. Christopher raised a brow. “Ah, well. Very different
from social pursuits.” He squeezed her leg a little. “Now I understand you have
been receiving attention from several young men.”

Mama must have told him that. “Y-yes.”

“It’s all right, my dear. I’m not here to gossip. I’m here
to listen,” he reassured her.

“There seem to be so many of them. They call on me during
the times I’m meant to be at home. They leave cards when I’m not home. Some
want to take me for walks, others for rides in their fancy carriages. I’ve been
given loads of flowers.”

The doctor chuckled and patted her knee. “You are a very
pretty young woman, Helena.” His hand gently rubbed her thigh.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You feel confusion by all the attention, do you not?”

“Yes!” She was surprised the doctor understood her. She
looked up and studied him for the first time. He was really quite handsome for
an older man. His eyes were the most beautiful color of blue she had ever seen.
Like the summer sky.

“These tumultuous emotions of the heart are fairly usual in
young women such as yourself.”

“They are?”

“Yes, medical men call what you are feeling ‘hysteria’.
There are treatments for it. That’s why your mother sent you to me.”

“I’m suffering from hysteria?” Helena was astonished. “But I
don’t feel ill.”

“No.” Dr. Christopher stood up to pace slowly. “But the
chaos of emotions, from the desperate melancholy to the ecstatic excitability,
create a sort of illness of the mind.” He faced her. “I have a method of
resolving all of these feelings to make your mind well again. My treatment
involves the body.”

He must have seen the curiosity on her face. He touched the
top of her head. “Your mind is connected to certain places in your body via a
system of nerves. When certain nerves are aroused they send a message to the
brain. Pain is one of those mechanisms. But so is pleasure.” He folded his
hands together as if emphasizing his point. “You are here to learn the method
of pleasure.”

Something about his voice, his expression—a touch of genuine
enthusiasm, maybe—was very exciting. “What do I do?” she asked.

“I must ask you to take off your skirt, shoes and drawers.
And your hat, coat and gloves, of course. There is a screen behind which you
may do so.” He pointed to a corner of the room.

He continued to talk as Helena took off the required
garments. “I have my own three-step method to excite the nerves. The first is a
manual massage, which I will teach you to use whenever you feel the need. The
second is mechanical massage, which is needed at periodic intervals to give
more stimulation to the nerves. The third step,” he paused and Helena could
hear him pacing again, “is penetrative massage. This keeps the muscles
surrounding the nerves vigorous.”

Helena stepped out from behind the screen. Dr. Christopher
suddenly appeared enlivened, a state that only increased his attractiveness.
Helena understood her mother’s fascination with him.

He indicated a padded table, one end partly raised with a
little pillow hung on the top edge. “Please lie down.”

She did. “Am I to put my feet here?” she said indicating the
metal stirrup-like brackets.

“Yes. Please.”

He lifted her petticoats and cool air fanned between her
legs, eliciting a new awareness of her body. He moved a chair and sat before
her, looking attentively at the hair covering her privates, holding a jar of
oil in his hands.

“I’m going to touch you here,” he said indicating the hair.
He dipped his fingers in the oil, then lightly probed her.

Helena flinched, her knees reflexively smashed together.

“Relax, my dear. It is a new feeling, but you will come to
like it very much. I’ll help you.”

He parted her knees, stroking them with a soothing gesture.
He pulled up two leather straps on either side of the table, then wrapped and
buckled them around each thigh, making sure they secured her comfortably. With
her legs wide, she could watch as he spread her open. His fingers were gentle,
practiced, as he smoothed the oil on one particular spot, the spot she had
discovered herself not too long ago.

Helena cried out involuntarily. She flushed in embarrassment.

“Yes, that must be it.” He glanced up at her, an intensity
in his blue eyes. He reached for a nearby hand mirror, then held it between her
legs. “Watch while I touch you there.”

Helena watched Dr. Christopher’s finger as it stroked and
glided across the very sensitive nub previously hidden under folds of pink
flesh. She was fascinated by the sight, never having actually looked at herself
since she only ever did the act at night in her bed under her sheets. She
glanced back at the doctor’s face to see him gazing at her intimate area with
admiration. Her own body was mired in a mass of confusing sensations and
emotions. The familiar thrill was mixed with a bit of unease.

“Now, Miss Phillips,” he said taking the mirror away, “I
want you to use your own fingers to do what I am doing to you. Choose either
hand, whichever feels most comfortable.”

Helena reached down with her right hand. Dr. Christopher
helped guide her fingers to the spot. She flinched again when she found the
smooth nub.

“Just keep rubbing there, my dear. You’ll soon master the
technique.”

She hesitated. The act had always been private and daring in
its secretiveness. Now that she was to do it in front of someone, it suddenly
seemed so improper.

“It’s really all right. It’s what you came here to learn.”

Helena touched herself slowly, her finger exploring the
silky, oily area, causing a riot of thoughts and feelings to erupt inside her.

Dr. Christopher remained between her legs, now exploring the
area just below. He gently pulled her open, then licked his lips. “I see you
are a virgin.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, good. Now keep stroking, faster if you like.” He got
up. “I’ll be right here with you.” He walked to the other side of the office,
disappearing from her view.

Despite the invigorating pleasures coursing through her, the
confusion in Helena’s mind lingered. She tried to concentrate on the movements
of her finger, tried to focus on the physical, but her brain was distracted by
the unusual circumstances. She drew in a breath and closed her eyes, willing
herself to call up memories, very pleasant memories, one recent memory in
particular.

She was in the garden again with Dr. Ramsay—Nicholas—kissing
him, his arms wrapped around her, his hands clutching, massaging, kneading her
back, her buttocks, her breasts. As their bodies undulated in a sensual rhythm,
their breathing staggered unsteadily in unison. Nicholas’ mouth feasted on hers
at the same time his quiet moans surrounded her, echoing behind her, the sounds
sparking a tingling warmth, hearing his breaths come faster and faster, lifting
her higher and higher until he emitted a clipped grunt, shaking her from her
fantasy, leaving her empty, unfulfilled. Her touch no longer satisfied.

“I don’t know if I’m doing this right,” she cried out in frustration.

Dr. Christopher was at her side immediately. “Let me,” he
said excitedly. “Close your eyes. Just feel.”

Helena settled against the padded table and closed her eyes.
Nicholas came back, enveloping her once again, rubbing himself between her
legs, like he had done in the garden.

“Take pleasure from my caress, Helena, my sweet,” she heard
him say.

“Yes, oh, yes.” She writhed in his arms, the confusion once
again rearing its ugly head, but with his guidance she was able to grasp at a
sensation of spiraling upward, until she was at the top, the top of what she
did not know, but she knew she should hang on, clawing and clutching so she
would not fall—

“Let go, my darling.”

Yes, yes! She should let go and then she would shoot into
the sky! Nicholas lifted her into the clouds, up, up, as she stretched her arms
farther. Suddenly, like a firework she shot into the heavens, bright lights
flaring before her eyes, the flares bursting into a million embers falling to
earth—

She screamed.

“Shh, shh, Miss Phillips. It is all over now.” Dr.
Christopher’s calm voice brought her back down to earth gently.

Helena drew in a deep breath.

“And did you find the experience soothing to your
sensibilities?”

“Yes,” she had to admit. She did not feel the queer
frustrations anymore.

“Good. Now do you think you can do that on your own?”

“Oh yes.” Of course, he didn’t know she already did. It was
different this time, though. “Doctor, I thought of someone.”

“Really?” Dr. Christopher seemed very interested in this.

“Yes.”

“Was it one of the young men you’ve been spending time with?”

“Yes,” she acknowledged.

“That’s good, my dear.” His lips were still at her ear, his
voice sultry and low. “Think of that young man when you pleasure yourself in
your room at night. And at your next appointment, I will show you a far more
exquisite method for achieving this blissful state.”

* * * * *

“Now, Mrs. Martin, you put that cream on your daughter’s
bottom if she has any more rashes.”

“Yes, Dr. Ramsay. Thank you, Doctor.”

Nicholas had never realized he knew so much more about
babies than the women who bore them. He also never knew how much he liked
babies. They were wonderfully delightful even when they were bawling their tiny
lungs out.

He showed Mrs. Martin out of the office and to the front
door. He let out a sigh when the door closed, realizing he finally had time for
his long-awaited afternoon cup of tea. He headed back to his office to ring the
bell for Mrs. Jennings.

That’s when he saw Helena coming out of Dr. Christopher’s
office.

She blushed crimson.

“Miss Phillips.” He managed to greet her amidst the pounding
of his heart.

“Dr. Ramsay.” Her voice seemed breathless, dreamy.

He took in her form, gorgeous—as it always was—in a claret
and blue-gray walking suit, her face enticingly flushed, feeling his own body
flush in her presence. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine now. My mother suggested I see Dr. Christopher
for—” She broke off, abashed.

Nicholas’ gut wrenched. He knew precisely what she had been
sent to the doctor for. “Will I see you soon?” He tried desperately to keep the
anger out of his voice.

“I do very much hope so, Dr. Ramsay.” She nodded her goodbye
and blushed anew.

The second she was out on the pavement, Nicholas stormed
into Dr. Christopher’s office.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

The doctor looked up from his paperwork. “I taught Miss
Phillips how to masturbate,” he said clinically.

Nicholas felt sick to his stomach. “You scoundrel, using an
innocent girl for your perverted sexual deviance.”

“It is most definitely not deviance, young man,” he shot
back. “Experimentation, perhaps, but not deviance.”

“I’ve heard you and Grace in here and it is absolutely not
the sounds of experimentation,” he hissed. “You’re fucking her, you cannot deny
that.”

“Grace and I are experimenting with the frequency and type
of orgasm experienced by women during various sexual acts. I’ve charted it all.
You may look at my notes.” The doctor waved his hand casually in the direction
of his bookshelf.

Nicholas clenched his fists to stop himself from throttling
the conceited, cold-blooded villain. “I will not have you treat Miss Phillips
in that corrupt manner,” he growled.

“Would you rather one of my far older and less nimble
colleagues manually stimulate the girl? It is why her mother sent her to me. I
am an expert in the treatment of hysteria.”

“Hysteria?!” he yelped incredulously. “Helena is not
suffering from hysteria!”

Dr. Christopher narrowed his eyes. “‘Helena’? You are
overstepping your bounds. She is your better, you fool.”

Nicholas wanted to scream at his colleague’s cool arrogance.
“You cannot continue this, you simply cannot. If you do, you do not deserve the
title ‘doctor’.”

Yet even threats could not sway the man. He sat unmoved.

“Dr. Ramsay, I do appreciate your helping me in my practice.
I would like it very much if you would keep to your work and let me continue
with mine. You are, of course, free to find another position in another office,
as you choose. However, I will continue to have Miss Helena Phillips as my
patient no matter what you do.”

“We’ll see about that.” Nicholas stomped out, rage tearing
up his insides. He had to do something. He would do anything to save his
beloved from such perversity.

“Oh God, Vinny. Oh—”

Kneeling before him, Lavinia took Nicholas’ cock deeper into
her mouth until it touched the back of her throat. He was on the brink, ready
to spend. He had been tense of late and definitely needed the release. She
squeezed his butt cheeks and pressed him into her, fluttering her throat around
his glans.

“Christ! You’re a bloody whore—”

It was rather amusing that he let loose with expletives
whenever she did this to him. She loved sucking his cock—she loved everything
they did together really, but this was the best she could do for him when she
was having her courses.

His hands gripped the top of her head. “Yes, yes, yes—”

He was lost now, probably thinking about Helena. Lavinia
didn’t mind that he fantasized about Helena’s lips wrapping around his prick,
her tongue stroking his shaft. The likelihood of that ever occurring was slim,
and if it did, that the girl would be as good as herself, even slimmer. All she
cared about at that moment was making sure Nicholas was sated and relaxed.

She needed him in a good state of mind when she delivered
the bad news she had for him.

“Arrgh!”

He jerked in climax. She held his hips steady, pressing her
fingers into the taut muscles of his arse as she sucked the warm, salty
ejaculate and swallowed every drop.

Nicholas staggered backward and flopped onto the bed,
flushed and breathless, utterly spent. He chuckled and pulled her up to lie
alongside him under the covers. “You are magnificent, Vinny. You are not making
it easy for me to want to marry someone else.”

“Nonsense, Nicky. You know you would marry Helena Phillips
in a heartbeat if you could.”

He was silent. He wrapped his arm more tightly around her,
the heat of his body warming her chilled flesh.

“Darling, I’ve said something wrong, haven’t I?”

“No, love.” He kissed her hair. “It’s just that, well, I
haven’t told you, because of your past with Julius Christopher.”

“Julius?” Lavinia propped herself up on her elbow. “What’s
he done?”

Nicholas sighed. “He has taught Helena how to frig herself.
Apparently, it was Sophia Phillips’ idea.”

“Well, good for Helena, then.”

“You don’t understand!” he blurted. “Look, Dr. Christopher
gets, well, ‘aroused’ is the only way to say it, when he touches women
intimately. Other doctors take it in stride as part of their work. Most of them
think it’s not a sexual act anyway, and even if they do know the truth, they’re
able to separate the act of physical stimulation for therapeutic release from
an intimate act of lovemaking. Not your Julius, though. He likes his work far
too much.”

Lavinia knew this. She’d known it for years. She had
conveniently forgotten.

“Vinny, it makes me sick thinking of the beautiful, innocent
Helena in his office and what he is doing to her.”

“I suppose it doesn’t help if I state the obvious, hmm?” She
drummed her fingers on his chest. “That it was you who agitated the girl’s passions
to the point of nervousness?”

“And she’s agitated mine but I’m allowed mistresses and
masturbation because I’m a man?” he grumbled.

She ignored him. “Darling, if he has taught her how to
pleasure herself, there will be no reason for her to continue visiting his
office. Put it out of your mind. Or at the very least, take a scientific view
of the matter. Next time you see Helena, mark if she is changed.”

Nicholas grunted.

Lavinia nuzzled against him as sweetly as she could.

He sighed. “Love, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have the grumps
around you.” He tilted her face up to his and kissed her mouth. “Hmm, do I
really taste like that? It’s positively wretched.”

That made her laugh.

“Thank you, Vinny,” he murmured. “You are the most wonderful
lover a man could ever have.”

A comforting warmth bathed her at that. It would be far more
difficult for her to bring up the bad news now. She would have to strategize.

“Let’s discuss your marriage prospects, shall we?”

Nicholas groaned.

“What about Emily Chambers? She’s very pretty.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And intelligent.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And?”

“There’s no attraction with her, Vinny. I don’t think she
feels anything for me either. It was all rather awkward right after we danced.”

“Well, there’s Penelope Hardcastle. She’s very friendly.”

“A little too concerned with fashion and gossip for my
tastes.”

“But you’ve danced with her twice already at two different
balls.”

“She’s a very good dancer.”

“That’s a good quality to have in a wife.”

“You’re a good dancer, darling. I wonder if it means Miss
Hardcastle is as good as you are in bed?”

“Nicky!” Lavinia swatted the top of his head.

Nicholas laughed.

“It appears this conversation is going absolutely nowhere,”
she admitted with a bit of annoyance.

“Look, Vinny, it’s just that I really don’t want any of
them.”

Lavinia sighed. “Darling, if you want Helena you have to
change your mind about your father.”

“I knew you were going to say that. And it’s probably too
late anyway. And they only want my money, which is not unlimited, I must say.”

It was time. She could stall no longer. “Nicky,” she started
gravely. “There’s something very important I have to tell you.”

He sat up at that, leaning against the headboard. “Lavinia,
what is it?”

“It’s your father. And your brother. There’s been an
accident.”

She heard his breath hitch in his throat. “What kind of
accident?”

Lavinia gathered her courage. “Your brother was upset about
some recent gambling debts. It seems that his creditors have not been too kind
this time around.” She inhaled deeply to steady the quiver in her voice. “He
got very drunk. Very drunk. And belligerent.” She met his eyes. “There was a
gun—”

“Oh God. Not again,” he muttered.

The distress on his face constricted her heart. She turned
away. “Jack shot your father in a blind rage. And then he turned the gun on
himself.” She looked up at him again. “Nicky, Jack is dead.”

Nicholas stared blankly out the bedroom window into the
fading afternoon light. “And my father?”

“He’s alive. The letter I received was from your old butler
Mason, who had talked to the doctor. The earl is very sick. The doctor removed
the bullet but it seems now there is an infection of the blood.”

“Sepsis,” Nicholas muttered darkly.

“Yes, that’s it.” Lavinia gazed up at him. “We both know
what this means, Nicky. You need to see your father. Heal old wounds, so to
speak.”

“Christ, that is the last thing in the world I want to do,”
he said bleakly. “You know that, Vinny.”

“Yes. But, darling, you have a reason now.”

Nicholas remained silent, his lips twisting and trembling in
concert with the struggle going on in his heart.

She took his hand in hers. “It makes no difference what your
motives may be. If you do it so you can win Helena’s hand rather than make
peace with your family, so be it.”

“I always thought if this happened, I would disclaim the
inheritance. Bertie is next in line after me and he’s far more suited. He
enjoys all the aristocratic pomp that I loathe.”

“Yes, I suppose. I hadn’t thought of that.” Bertie was the
eldest son of the earl’s brother, George. The heroic Brigadier General George
Atherley was elevated to the peerage posthumously as the First Viscount
Ravensburgh for his valiant service to the queen during the Crimean War. At the
tender age of five, Bertie had assumed his father’s titles and bore them with
the maturity and gravity of a young man many times his age. Nicky was right.
Bertie would take to being the new earl quite readily.

“And all the debt… I don’t think I could handle the
responsibility.” His voice was thin, conveying the beleaguering weight of the
daunting tasks before him.

“Yes, you can,” she reassured. “I can help.”

“Does he even want to see me?” He looked at her
beseechingly.

“Yes. Mason says he has called for you.”

Nicholas rested his head against the headboard and stared up
at the ceiling. “Christ!” he hissed. “I can never forgive him. What he did to Mother
is abhorrent.”

“You don’t have to forgive him. But I think you should go
see him.”

Nicholas slid down to burrow under the covers. “I’ll think
about it.”

“Nicky…” she hectored.

“Just when I was finally getting settled.” He sighed. “I
really like my work.”

“You really like Helena.”

“I do,” he said with resignation. He hit his fist against
the sheets. “Bloody hell! It will be like making peace with the devil himself.”

“She’s worth it. You know that.”

He exhaled long and hard. “She most certainly is.”

* * * * *

Julius watched the glow of the frosted-glass shade gently
pulse as the flame danced inside the oil lamp. He really should be dancing too.
He had just been vindicated. Grace had just proved his theory. Well, rather she
had just disproved all of medical science.

Woman did not need man for sexual satisfaction.

It was contradictory to what he had come to know with his
new lover. Sophia was a startling example of how a woman needed a man for
fulfillment, at times to the point of desperation. Yet Grace demonstrated that
a woman did not necessarily need a man.

Or even a dozen men.

The revelation made him elated and disappointed all at once.

Grace had gone to bed long ago, utterly satiated. His office
was deserted, yet the stench of sex still permeated the cool air. The stench of
men, working-class men.

The experiment had necessitated quite a bit of organization
beforehand. No disturbance could be tolerated, so the timing had to be perfect.
That meant it had to be done well after Mrs. Jennings had gone to bed. It also
meant Julius had to inquire as to Ramsay’s social habits, subtly of course, but
still he had to endure awkward friendly chitchat about which nights the
handsome young doctor was attending balls and such. Julius just hoped he had
not raised any suspicions.

He needed time to set up the office precisely for this
particular experiment. A row of chairs to line one wall, screened off from the
rest of the office. The examination table was to be next to the door to allow
quick exit but shielded by another screen so anyone who entered would not see
what was going on.

In the course of his experiments, Grace had proved to be
quite a sexual dynamo, seemingly able to achieve orgasms without end during
coitus, certainly never achieving a final climax. Yet he could not know for
sure, as he himself spent far too quickly in the midst of her orgiastic
frenzies. For proper scientific analysis he needed to discover the point at
which her coital pleasure did indeed end. Her clitoral orgasms had finality,
and an amazing display of wanton flailing it was, especially with the vibrating
machine. But coitus, an act only undertaken with the male sex, did not seem to
bring on an equally definitive satisfaction. Julius was determined to explore
this tangent of inquiry, and for that, he needed more than one man. He settled
on the nice round number of one dozen.

They were each one of them hand-picked by him, each about
twenty-two years of age, each in wonderful physical condition, each of normal
intelligence, each fairly good-looking. Simply put, Julius had gathered twelve
men so similar as to act as one man, one man with a sexual stamina of heroic
proportions.

He had asked the men to arrive at the office at staggered
times. They were paid up front, then ordered to put on a blindfold before
entering the office and forbidden to speak to each other. They were each given
a number and forced to memorize it. Only one of the original dozen failed to
show. After the remaining men were settled, Julius gave the command for them to
begin frigging themselves, slowly, enough to bring on the required stiffness.

Grace lay on the examination table stripped from the waist
down, her feet in the stirrups, the room dark with only enough light for Julius
to make notes. The electro-mechanical vibration machine sat on the floor at the
ready, just in case he felt he needed to use it. But he wanted to put that off
for as long as possible. She would get her reward somehow. Grace was so very
amenable, charmingly so, at times eliciting a little flutter of proud
satisfaction in his heart.

He placed his hand between her legs to prepare her, studying
her face as he did so. She had certain movements, certain expressions that
betrayed when she was approaching a state of lubriciousness, and it was to
observe these reactions—as a scientist, he told himself—that he watched her.
She moaned and squirmed under his ministrations, then licked her lips and
smiled up at him sweetly—almost innocently. He drew his fingers through her
wetness, noting to himself that she was ready for his experiment, tamping down
an annoying touch of protectiveness that welled within.

She would be fine. He had personally interviewed each of the
men. She had nothing to worry about. And neither did he.

“Number one,” Julius called out to the men waiting behind
the screen. Once called, each man could take off his blindfold. The first one
came stumbling nervously to the table, his cock fully engorged, its outline
visible under his half-buttoned trousers.

“Come to the table. Drop your trousers and your drawers.
Lift your shirt.”

The young man did as commanded, his impressive cock jutting
out eagerly at full stand.

Julius grabbed the man’s prick and rubbed oil up and down
the shaft until it was smooth and slick. Quite unexpectedly, the doctor felt
his own cock stir.

“You may penetrate her now.”

The young man looked at him with astonishment. “You really
mean that, sir?”