Hysteria

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.

"My husband? What does my husband have to do with this?"

"My lady, please, I must attend to other patients," said Ciara, gently freeing herself of Julia's grasp.

She was suddenly afraid that she had made a grave mistake in treating this young woman, in introducing pleasure into her grey life. What if she talked to Doctor Cooper?

Julia could only watch as Ciara's figure disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors of the good Doctor's examination room. She sat in the examination chair for a while, her feet in the stirrups still, the wetness of her sex cooling. It was with great reluctance that she finally closed her legs and stood up.

The following month, Julia requested Ciara for her appointment. Doctor Cooper readily agreed. The massage sessions were tiring and left his wrist aching. It was the perfect duty to delegate to his nurse.

Julia was sitting on the side chair when Ciara walked into the examination room. Ciara became immediately nervous when she saw the determined look in Julia's face. It was rarely safe to face an upper class woman with a notion in her head, especially as a low-born Irish servant.

"Sit," said Julia, indicating a stool placed nearby.

Ciara did, folding her hands on her lap.

"You will now tell me everything," declared Julia, dismissing any notion of refusal. "The good Doctor gave me a broad overview of anatomy, but it has utterly failed to explain the...event at last month's visit. You will now do so."

"Explain...m'lady, you simply had pleasure. The little death, the French call it,"replied Ciara.

"Impossible. We women are incapable of experiencing pleasure from sexual intercourse. The doctor was most clear about this."

"The good doctor is full of baloney, if I may say so," replied Ciara a little too hastily." And he is not a woman, so how would he know? He has only read the words of other men who are just as batty as he is."

"I should have the doctor dismiss you on the spot for your impertinence!" Exclaimed Julia.

A sudden silence fell in the little room. Ciara desperately needed this position, and this wealthy lady could ruin her life with one word. Julia saw the young Irish nurse become pale with fright, and was suddenly overcome with guilt at her harsh words.

"However," she continued, in a softer tone," since I did ask you to tell me everything, I will say nothing of your words to Doctor Cooper. But now, explain yourself."

Ciara hesitantly continued.

"M'lady, there is not much to explain. We women can experience great pleasure from...intercourse, and such things."

"We did not have intercourse," interjected Julia.

"No, indeed. But a touch is enough, if it is gentle."

"A touch?" Said a puzzled Julia.

"Have you never...reached down, during a bath, or at night?" Asked Ciara as delicately as she could.

"Good Lord no, that would be wrong," replied Julia.

Ciara sighed.

"I'm sorry, m'lady. I don't know how else to explain it. But we women do have a..button, a spot, down there, and when you touch it gently, it brings great pleasure."

"Is it an Irish thing?" Asked Julia, skeptical.

"No," replied Ciara, confused. Did she really think they were different species?

"I am a well born lady, and educated, and I have never heard of such a thing. Maybe it is common to the lower classes..." Julia's voice drifted off, as if contemplating an interesting anthropological question.

"No. You have one too. All women do." Replied Ciara softly, trying to keep her rising anger to herself. "That is how I triggered your spasms on your last visit."

"Show me," said Julia.

"Excuse me?" Stammered Ciara.

"Show me this button you claim exists, that somehow I have never been told about."

"M'lady..."

"Should we ask the good doctor? I'm sure he could resolve this issue in an instant," said Julia, very aware of the veiled threat in her statement.

"Very well," replied Ciara hastily.

Ciara gathered up her skirts, avoiding Julia's gaze as she pulled them up, above her knit tights, to reveal the rounded mound of her lower belly and the thin fan of black curls that crested her sex.

Julia leaned forward, looking quizzically.

"I see nothing..." she muttered.

Ciara reached down with one hand, the other holding up her skirt. With two fingers she spread the lips of her sex apart, revealing the deeper pink of her inner labia. She pulled at the flesh to expose the delicate pale nub of her clit.

"Right here," said Ciara, brushing her clit with a fingertip.

Julia leaned closer, frowning.

She suddenly stood up and started pacing around the room.

"I don't believe you. It must be some strange Irish deformity, some congenital and diseased...thing!"

With that she grabbed a mirror the good doctor kept by the examination chair and sat, pulling angrily at her skirt and petticoat, throwing one leg over the stirrup so that she could finally have a look for herself, peering at the cleft of her thighs. With a trembling hand she brushed aside the dark brown hair that covered the outer lips of her sex, digging at the thick inner lip.

Ciara approached her slowly and, gently, took the mirror from Julia's shaking grasp. She held it there, steady, for Julia to better see. Julia used both hands to spread her inner lips open, a pink butterfly landed on a pillow of curly brown hair. She pulled them further apart until she could see, there, the small pink hood covering a small pale button. She stared in the mirror at her exposed and spread pussy, emotions roiling in her heart and on her face. Disgust, fear, hope, curiosity, and even desire.

With a cautious finger she touched it.

"It..it's not working? You said it feels good," said Julia, lip trembling, looking up at Ciara. "You said it was a source of pleasure, that it cures my hysteria..." Her voice was rising in volume and pitch.

"It does, it does," shushed Ciara, "but you have to be in the right mood, you have to be ready, to want it."

"Want what?"

"Pleasure. Otherwise..." Ciara shrugged her shoulders.

"Do I want...pleasure?" Sighed Julia, sitting back into the chair, letting her skirt fall onto her lap. "Like last time? When you..." Julia drifted off, her breath heavy.

Ciara wondered if she was about to cry, or faint. She sat on her stool, still holding the mirror, watching Julia as she struggled with words, with thoughts. Ciara had no words to share. What do you say to a woman who has just discovered that everyone had lied to her about her own body, her own capacity for pleasure and fulfillment? Julia had just discovered an entire part of herself she had never known could even exist, like a third arm growing out of her back.

Julia locked eyes with Ciara.

"Yes,...please." She said softly.

With that she reclined onto the chair and lifted her other leg onto the stirrup, pulling her skirt up. She let her head fall back and her eyes close, her breath now coming sharp and shallow.

Ciara scooted her stool to sit between Julia's opened thighs. There was her sex, opened already, a bead of clear liquid forming at the bottom of the pink cleft. Ciara reached forward with a single finger and dipped it into that drop of fluid. She rested the pad of her finger against the soft flesh, at the bottom of the opening of the vagina. Julia drew in a sharp breath.

Ciara started doing small circles with her finger, gently opening the vaginal canal, moving the inner lips further apart. Julia's hands clasped the side of the exam chair, her eyes tightly shut. Ciara continued her slow massage until Julia's pussy blossomed further open, juices now flowing out to cover her finger. Her clit swelled and started to poke out of the small hood. Ciara collected a small bead of Julia's juices on her finger and brought it to her clit.

Julia whimpered, her lips clamped as tightly shut as her eyes.

Ciara gently circled Julia's clit, spreading wetness across it, softly increasing pressure, switching from circles to stroking up and down along the small shaft. Julia's hips started to roll in time with Ciara's finger, searching for more touch. Ciara had to admit that it was quite sexy, watching the pleasure rise and mount and spread through the young woman's sex and hips and thighs, her skin growing pink and flushed.

Julia started shaking. She threw a fist into her mouth, biting her fingers to keep from crying out. Her eyes flew open and, her face red, brow furrowed, she found Ciara. The two women were locked together eye to eye as an orgasm raced through Julia, sending her body into spasms. After a dozen long seconds, Julia collapsed, spent.

Ciara pulled back, quietly getting up and wiping her finger on a nearby towel. Julia lay on the examination chair, legs still up in the stirrups, eyes shut, breath heavy. Finally she turned her head and smiled at Ciara.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Julia straightened up and smoothed her skirt down. She reached for Ciara's hand and held it between her two.

"Now you must tell me." Julia started," I feel like one of those adventurers who boldly sailed off for distant lands to find new countries, new territories as yet unknown to mankind! Or womankind, in our case. You must find me dreadfully naive. Tell me, is this something you do, to you I mean, how often? Is this normal, this uncontrollable, this delightful paroxysm of the body..."

Ciara interrupted and gently pulled her hand away. "I'm not like you, m'lady, I have no husband, no fancy house, no soft feather bed. I find my pleasure like all the girls of my position. In the dark, against the wall in an alley, with a lad whose breath stinks of whiskey and sausage."

"With a lad? You mean like my husband sometimes..but how is that pleasurable?" Julia asked, puzzled.

"When you're hungry for it, when your cunny's nice and wet, it's the best feeling in the world, makes you forget the stink and the soot of London," replied Ciara.

"Your cunny..is that what you call...With a lad, you said. Where do you find these lads?" Asked Julia, suddenly fidgeting.

"In a pub. There's an Irish pub where I go sometimes. A rough place, not to your standards, but there is music there, and dancing, and the lads are nice enough."

"Could we go? Take me, please!" Julia grabbed Ciara's hand again, "I wish to see this place, to see these lads, and, and, dance, maybe, and maybe, to see, to feel, to feel a lad on me, yes, I can feel..."

Julia let go of Ciara's hand, reaching under her own skirts instead, fumbling up until her hands were pressed against her pussy.

"...I can feel, " she continued,"a need, a desire, yes, I can feel the place where I could receive, I could be filled.." She threw her head back. Her hands, unseen under her skirt, were moving, groping, opening herself, filling herself with fingers, mashing her palm against her clit. Her knees buckled as another orgasm swept through her. Ciara rushed forward to catch her before she could fall.

Julia grabbed hold of Ciara's arm.

"There is a fever in me now," she whispered huskily, "you must help me, please."

"I'll do what I can..." said Ciara.

"Tomorrow...no, the day after. I'll get a coach. We'll meet at the park, you can take me to this pub of yours..."

"M'lady!" sputtered Ciara, "You cannot go with me to a pub in the Irish quarters! What would people say if they saw you! Your reputation would be ruined."

"True, true. You must bring me clothes. Something fitting, a subterfuge. How thrilling. An adventure. I am having an adventure!" Julia exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Julia straightened her skirts, and fixed her hair, becoming again the lady of high standing talking to a servant.

"I shall expect you at the corner of Norman street, near St Luke's Garden at seven, the day after tomorrow."

"Yes, m'lady" stammered Ciara, dumbstruck. What has she gotten herself into? But all she could do was watch Julia Sinclair walk out of the good doctor's office.