Lust Ever After

Lust Ever After
Rose de Fer

Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter One: The Anatomy Lesson

Chapter Two: Justine

Chapter Three: A Curious Visitor

Chapter Four: The Perfect Opportunity

Chapter Five: Justine Unbound

Chapter Six: A New Life

Chapter Seven: Friend

Chapter Eight: Frustration

Chapter Nine: A New Acquaintance

Chapter Ten: Pleasure Slave

Chapter Eleven: Questions

Chapter Twelve: Secrets

Chapter Thirteen: Female Treachery

Chapter Fourteen: Revelation

Chapter Fifteen: The Bride

Epilogue: 130 years later

More from Mischief

About Mischief

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter One
The Anatomy Lesson

‘And so, gentlemen, although this is a purely scientific demonstration, you can see that the subject is nonetheless displaying clear and unequivocal signs of arousal.’

The girl, Daisy, was indeed very flushed. She lay naked and splayed on the rugged wooden table in the centre of the room, her skin glowing in the light from the paraffin lamps. Some two dozen young men in frock coats and cravats peered down into the arena of the small operating theatre. Daisy heard the creak of floorboards and the rustle of fabric as they shifted to get a better view. Although she was quite warm, gooseflesh rose on her skin as Dr Frankenstein trailed his fingers over her body, pointing out various features of her anatomy. She was finding it very difficult to remain still, despite his frequent admonishments.

‘This specimen is particularly responsive,’ Frankenstein said, his voice crisp and cultured, his hands adept and precise. ‘Observe how her nipples react to even the slightest stimulation.’

Daisy felt them respond just as he described, stiffening instantly. His fingertips gently touched the hard little peaks and she gasped, throwing her head back and pressing her thighs together around the hot pulse she felt quickening there. She trembled, fingering the leather restraints on either side of the table.

As though reading her mind, the doctor said, ‘If you can’t be still, my girl, I will have to use those.’

Her eyes closed and she blushed deeply, struggling to obey. She was unaccustomed to the sensation of being fully naked, let alone so exposed before an audience. A group of gentlemen at that. It created a heady mix of feelings within her: guilt, titillation, fear, excitement.

She reminded herself of what the doctor had told her when he had recruited her for this demonstration. She would be helping her fellow man, assisting in the advancement of medical science and the understanding of human anatomy. There was nothing untoward about his proposal, nothing for her to feel ashamed about. On the contrary, she should be proud of the service she would be providing. And he would give her a gold sovereign for her trouble. She couldn’t hope to make that in a week selling books in her father’s shop.

‘It is of vital importance,’ he had told her, ‘that students of medicine should have a complete understanding of the form and physiology of the fairer sex. Should they really be expected to make guesses based on vague sketches or genteel allusions to “down there” by embarrassed female patients?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ she had told him at last, both frightened and exhilarated by her decision. ‘Er … there’s no need to inform my father, is there?’

Another jolt of nearly unbearable pleasure brought her back to the moment and she gripped the restraints tightly, secretly wishing she were bound. That way she could pretend that this was all against her will. In fact, the idea made her even more lightheaded with desire.

‘Very sensitive indeed,’ Frankenstein was saying. Now he was pinching her tender nipples, rolling them softly between finger and thumb.

Daisy panted and writhed on the table, her body arching lewdly. She couldn’t help its wanton responses, nor the positively obscene thoughts she found accompanying them. She imagined the students crowding round to examine her themselves in even more intimate detail. A dozen pairs of hands stroking her thighs, her breasts, her bottom. Curious fingers exploring and invading every orifice. Strong arms holding her down if she struggled too much.

‘Hysteria is a pervasive underlying condition, gentlemen, present only in the female of the species. It disorders the mind and frustrates the body. You can see for yourselves how easily it is manifested, even in such impersonal surroundings as these. I believe that all women suffer from it to some degree. Fortunately, with the technological advancements of our modern age, it is quite treatable.’ He paused to smile up at his audience. ‘Not to mention extremely lucrative.’

The room hummed with polite laughter and a few murmurs of admiration. Daisy didn’t fully understand what they were talking about. Naturally, she had heard the term ‘hysteria’ before. She had once seen a lady swoon in her father’s shop, having caught sight of the volumes he kept behind his desk for private subscribers. It hadn’t occurred to her at the time that the lady was in a state comparable to the one she found herself in now. But she had peeked at those volumes later herself and the doctor was right; the experience had left her feeling quite inflamed.

‘A lady clearly cannot function in such a state,’ Frankenstein continued, ‘and the mental turbulence must be released by physical means.’

‘And this device you spoke of can actually cure it?’ came a voice from somewhere above her.

‘Alas, no,’ Frankenstein said. ‘The affliction is incurable. But with regular treatments one may at least provide temporary relief. As my thriving practice can attest.’

He went on to describe a steam-powered device called the Alleviator, which produced intense vibrations and very quickly achieved the curative ‘paroxysm’ that physicians found so tedious and difficult to administer by hand. As he explained the process, he gently prised Daisy’s legs apart and placed his hand against her sex, making her whimper with longing. She was extremely wet, an observation Frankenstein immediately shared with the watchers. It only made her wetter. If she hadn’t been hysterical before, she most certainly was now.

She couldn’t help recalling some of the pictures she had seen in one of those forbidden volumes – strange Oriental drawings of men and women unclothed, in astonishing positions, performing acts she wouldn’t have imagined possible. The pictures had made her blush and tingle and her sex had throbbed much as it was doing now. She felt herself drowning in the sensation as he described the procedure in more detail and answered several questions about the mechanics of the device.

The situation was dizzyingly erotic for Daisy. The doctor never once called her by name; he merely referred to her as ‘the subject’. And yet somehow his impersonal manner only enhanced her arousal. Her entire body felt inflamed, all her senses heightened. Frankenstein urged her legs wider apart and with his fingers he spread her open. She closed her eyes, awash with the sense of exposure and the peculiar pleasure it brought her.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to experience this ‘paroxysm’ if it would relieve her symptoms of hysteria. The physical hunger was itself wildly pleasurable and she didn’t want it to end. Indeed, every time he touched her, however dispassionately, she felt her heart race faster.

One of the students spoke up. ‘Sir, may we ask for a demonstration of how this device works?’

‘Ah, no,’ Frankenstein said. ‘Unfortunately, the device is too large to transport. I keep it in a special private chamber in my consulting rooms. The ladies must come to me, you see.’

Daisy tried to imagine the apparatus and found she grew even more excited by the picture her mind was creating. She saw herself standing before a huge contraption of cold steel, twisting her hands nervously as she waited to surrender her body to its treatment. At Dr Frankenstein’s instruction, she removed her dress and wore only her chemise. A hooded assistant, with smooth feminine hands, helped her up onto a wide wooden platform. She eased Daisy onto her back on a gleaming metal table and fastened her arms tightly above her head with manacles. Then she pulled Daisy’s legs wide apart, securing them with iron bands around her knees and ankles. The position left her sex completely exposed.

Daisy heard a deep rumbling as the steam engine roared to life and the entire structure began to throb around her. There was the low hum of voices as Dr Frankenstein and his lady assistant discussed various settings for the machine and moved around Daisy making adjustments. She heard the sound of a crank turning, the clank and rattle of a chain, and she looked up to see a strange mechanism being lowered into position between her legs. It too was made of cold steel and shaped like the male parts she had seen in the forbidden books. Unable to escape, she had no choice but to submit as Dr Frankenstein pushed the mechanism deep inside her, making her cry out. The assistant told her softly to be quiet and she bit back a cry as the device began to pump like a piston, in and out, in and out. She strained against her bonds to reassure herself that she was held fast.

She closed her eyes as a pair of soft hands untied the laces of her chemise, exposing her full breasts. Helpless and fully on display, Daisy surrendered to the exquisite sensations as the assistant caressed her. The cold machine ravished her while warm human hands cupped her breasts, tweaking the nipples. As had been pointed out to the roomful of students, she was highly responsive. The enormous engine bombarded her with pleasure so intense she wasn’t sure she could take it. Then the lady lowered her head to Daisy’s breasts, pressing her lips against –

‘But, sir, surely you don’t intend to leave the girl in such a state?’

The voice startled Daisy from her fantasy and she opened her eyes, surprised for a moment to find herself back in the operating theatre and not strapped into the steel contraption.

‘Certainly not,’ Frankenstein said, ‘but, given the state of extreme arousal in the subject, I don’t imagine it will prove very difficult to treat her by hand.’

Daisy bit her lip, desperately wanting relief now. He was right; there was no way she could function in such a disordered state. She needed his help. She looked up at him pleadingly, grinding her sex hard against his hand, completely unashamed of the copious wetness she knew he could feel there.

He smiled at her and began to massage the soft folds of her sex, first gently, then with more vigour. Daisy abandoned herself to the ministrations of his skilful fingers, crying out with no concern for her shameless display. She didn’t know what to expect but she knew it when it came. The powerful feelings seemed to spread out from her sex, flooding her whole body. Every muscle was tensed and trembling as she hovered on the brink of ecstasy. At last she reached a peak and a series of spasms overtook her, making her scream. She clamped her legs tightly around his hand as she succumbed to the internal battering that pounded her like waves.

She went limp as the violent spasms gradually faded to a gentle pulsing. She rolled onto her side and drew her legs up to her chest, curling into a ball. She heard the doctor’s voice as if from far away, addressing the room. Whatever he was saying, it had nothing to do with her. Any anxiety she had been feeling at the start of the demonstration was long gone. All she wanted now was to bask in the glow of the delicious relief.

Some time later, he helped her to her feet. The room was empty. He turned away discreetly as she dressed herself, her legs shaky from the experience. She was certain the evidence of what he had done to her was painted across her face for all to see.

‘You did very well,’ he said, ‘and you’ve more than earned your fee.’ He passed her the gold sovereign he had promised her.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said shyly, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. She tucked the coin into her shoe and clasped her hands as she worked up the courage to ask him the question burning in her mind.

At last she spoke. ‘Sir? This device you spoke of …’

‘Yes, Daisy?’

‘If you ever wished to … Well, that is to say …’ She bit her lip and forced the words out. ‘Might you one day need someone for a demonstration of how it works?’

He smiled and touched her face fondly, as though he’d known all along what was in her mind.

Chapter Two
Justine

It was dark by the time the coach drew up outside the house of Frankenstein. The imposing gothic façade soared above the cobbled drive, its steep gables and asymmetrical roofline carving its outline against the moonlit sky. The horses stamped their feet and snorted, breath pluming in the crisp winter air. It had been a tiring day and Frankenstein was looking forward to relaxing in his study with a glass of brandy.

Justine opened the door for him and took his coat as he stepped inside the hall. The little maid was slightly out of breath, as though she’d run to meet him at the door. Like a pet, he thought with a smile. He handed her his silver-topped walking stick and she slotted it into the rack with the others.

‘Thank you, Justine,’ he said. As she turned back to him, he reached up to her face, fingering a wisp of dark hair that had come loose from her mob cap. He raised his eyebrows.

She blushed and began smoothing her hair back, tucking the loose strands up under her cap. ‘Sorry, sir. I was upstairs when I heard the coach. I was … blacking the grates.’

‘I see.’ He took her hand and peered closely at the fingers. They were spotless. ‘You can’t have made a very good job of it.’

Again she blushed, lowering her head. Unable to improve on her already poor fabrication, she was silent for several seconds. He took pity on her and laughed, gently smacking the back of her hand. ‘It’s all right, my girl,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You were in my rooms again, weren’t you?’

She gasped and feigned innocence. ‘Sir! I –’

‘You know what they say about curious little pussycats, don’t you?’

She bit her lip, fidgeting where she stood as he tormented her, her fingers clutching the lace edges of her pinafore. He knew full well what she had been up to. What girl wouldn’t be curious about the mysterious devices he kept in his locked cabinets? Justine was the one who answered the door to his lady patients, after all, and saw them out again. They were always glowing and a little dishevelled when they left. She was bound to be curious about this special treatment of his that was so popular that these women came back to see him time after time. And he didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d stood outside his consulting room, ear pressed to the door, eyes wide with wonder at the sounds that came from within.

He wasn’t annoyed with her in the slightest, but she was so fetching in her discomfiture he found himself looking for excuses to chide her simply so he could watch her squirm. He felt himself growing hard whenever he teased her. He recalled watching the delicious battle between shame and excitement the day he had hired her, subjecting her to a thorough and completely unnecessary physical examination. What fun he’d had coaxing her out of her dress, her corset, her chemise and pantalets. But just as no man could hide the bulge in his trousers when aroused, no woman could conceal the telltale wetness. And Justine was no exception.

‘The demonstration went well,’ he told her breezily. Initially he’d thought of pressing Justine into service for it, knowing she’d have responded exactly as Daisy had. But then he’d thought better of it. Occasionally, students or colleagues came to the house and the girl would have a devil of a time opening the door or serving tea to men who had seen her in such a state. He had a cruel streak, but not even he could do that to his sweet little maid.

‘That’s good, sir,’ she said, relaxing now that the subject of her snooping seemed to have been dropped. But he didn’t intend to let her off the hook so easily.

‘Yes, the girl was very responsive and I’m satisfied that the students are better informed now as regards the intricacies of female anatomy.’

Her cheeks blazed scarlet again and she chewed her lower lip. ‘Oh.’

‘Indeed, they wanted more. They wanted a demonstration of the Alleviator, but I told them it wouldn’t be possible, as it was simply too big to transport.’

At that he saw her eyes flick to the door of his reception room and then quickly away again. Ah, yes, the little fish was hooked. She knew the machine by name only; she had never seen it.

‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘I didn’t think it fair to subject a girl to that kind of exhibition. It does provoke rather intense and extreme responses in a young lady and I didn’t want the girl to feel at all inhibited by the public setting. In private, they can let go fully, as I’m the only one there to see.’

Justine swallowed audibly as she pretended to make some adjustment to the scattering of calling cards in the little silver salver on the hall table. ‘Very thoughtful, sir,’ was apparently all she could think of to say.

‘So who’s come calling today?’ There were three cards on the salver, each bearing the name of a young lady doubtless suffering the malady he alone seemed able to treat. ‘Miss Anna Fairfax, Mrs Gwendolyn Merrydale …’

‘Yes, sir, they asked if you could please see them right away. That lady –’ she pointed to a familiar gilt-edged card ‘– said it was a matter of extreme urgency.’

‘I see.’

The card Justine indicated belonged to a Mrs Sylvia Leigh-Hunt. She was a wealthy widow he’d been ‘treating’ for several months. She was a few years younger than his forty-two, but still a handsome woman. There was nothing at all wrong with her, but that was hardly the point. He was an expert in the art of separating rich fools from their money.

‘How did the other two look?’ he asked.

‘Oh, Miss Fairfax was a lovely young thing,’ Justine said dreamily. ‘Flaxen hair, green eyes. Like a painting she was, sir.’

He nodded. ‘Mm-hmm. And Mrs Merrydale?’

Justine frowned slightly and shook her head. ‘I told her you weren’t taking on any new patients.’

He laughed. Ah, yes, she knew her master’s tastes. ‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘You’ve done very well. Do you know, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.’

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, her face open and trusting and entirely innocent of what he had in mind. She may have thought Miss Fairfax was lovely, but Justine was quite a picture herself. She was twenty-three, slim and petite, sylph-like. But what he found most striking was the contrast of pale-blue eyes and dark hair. It gave her an air of mystery. He had seen her naked, of course, but he had never seen her with her hair down. She always kept it pinned up and tucked into her cap. It would fall in loose wanton waves round her shoulders if she let it down, like that of a gypsy or a wild woman.

Her delicate bone structure belied her low station and he had often toyed with the notion of dressing her as a lady and training her up. Teaching her manners, how to speak, how to walk, how to comport herself. He could see her clothed in a gown of vibrant silk, cut low across the bosom, jewels gleaming against her slender throat. He was sure she could pass for a lady given the right training. Ah, but a lady in public only. In private, he would teach her tricks that would make a whore blush.

Since entering his service, she had proven loyal and obedient. She had no family and no ties to the world outside. Until recently. In the past few weeks she had become sweet on the butcher’s boy Ralph, whom she saw whenever she went to the market to run errands. He was a handsome lad, but Frankenstein knew a bounder when he saw one. He’d seen the way the boy looked at her and he’d cautioned her against giving her heart away too readily, for it was bound to get broken. Still, even the brightest girl is made foolish by love and Frankenstein determined to keep an eye on his little maid, lest she be seduced. By someone other than him.

‘Would my curious little cat like to see what I keep in that locked chamber?’

A beautiful blush painted her cheeks and she fixed her eyes on the floor, where she nudged the toe of one boot against the other, in an agony of indecision. He spared her the misery of admitting her curiosity, took her by the hand and led her into the reception room. She lingered in the doorway as he withdrew a set of keys and unlocked his consulting room, then beckoned her further, as though into a sinister lair. He smiled at the thought, for in a way it was exactly that. Certain of the ladies he saw were under no illusion about what was really going on, but the majority of them had been so conditioned by prudish society as to genuinely believe there was nothing sexual in what he did to them. One day the world would catch on and his little speciality would come to an end. Until then, however, he intended to exploit it to the fullest.

Justine plucked at her skirt, nervously peering around at the cabinets and cupboards. He adjusted the gas lamp and moved deeper into the room, to the inner sanctum, the chamber in which the beast slept, awaiting another victim.

‘Sir, I’m not sure I should …’

Frankenstein returned to her and took her gently by the shoulders, offering her his most charming smile. Doubtless she feared he would persuade her out of her clothes again, a thought he couldn’t deny had crossed his mind. ‘Justine,’ he said, ‘we both know you’ve been in here before without my permission. Didn’t I say when I hired you that I needed a girl I could trust?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Now, I don’t mind that you’re inquisitive, but that doesn’t give you leave to snoop.’

A delicate frown creased her features and she bit her lip. ‘No, sir,’ she mumbled.

‘I’ve never expressly forbidden you to come in here when I’m away – you certainly know where the spare key is kept – but I shouldn’t have thought it necessary. Good little chambermaids do not go sneaking around in their master’s private rooms.’

Although he spoke softly, smiling indulgently all the while, the girl was writhing in a horror of delicious embarrassment. He wondered if she could see how hard it was making him, or indeed if she had sufficient knowledge to recognise such things. Ralph had surely tried, by less eloquent means, to manoeuvre the girl into a compromising position. If so, he had clearly been unsuccessful. Such a rascal would be gone like a shot afterwards and never seen again.

‘It was very naughty of you, wasn’t it?’

Mortified, she couldn’t meet his eyes. He was so close he was sure he could smell her arousal, soft and spicy. She trembled like a rabbit caught in a trap, vulnerable and completely available to him. The girl was so naturally submissive that the very thought of disappointing her master would be a torment for her. If he kept it up much longer, he would reduce her to tears. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her head.

‘But we were talking about a reward,’ he said kindly. ‘Weren’t we?’

She relaxed at once, a sheepish grin spreading across her features. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘I trust you to look after my needs, so it’s only fair I should trust you with my secrets as well. And I think you deserve to know what goes on. What could possibly be improper about that?’

‘I just wasn’t sure that Ralph would approve of his future wife knowing about – well, certain things …’

Ah, so the scoundrel saw him as a threat, did he? Well, perhaps one seducer could recognise another, but Frankenstein was far more accomplished at this game than he was. There was no way he was going to allow that insolent pup to spoil his lovely Justine.

‘I see,’ he said sadly. ‘So it’s fine for a maid to nose around where she isn’t allowed but when her master trusts her enough to show her himself …’

Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle a little gasp of horror. ‘Oh no, sir! I didn’t mean … I just …’

‘Very well,’ he shrugged, returning the keys to his pocket and turning to leave. ‘I had no idea you had such a low opinion of me, Justine.’

He had to suppress a grin at the miserable sniffle he heard behind him as he walked away. If there was one thing an honest girl couldn’t bear, it was the thought that she had broken someone’s trust.

‘Sir?’ she said at last, her voice wavering.

He turned back to her, his loins twitching with the sense of imminent victory.

She offered him a meek little smile as she moved towards the door of the private chamber. ‘Please forgive me, sir. I was being foolish.’

Frankenstein smiled. Sometimes it was just too easy. He unlocked the door and led her into the darkened chamber.

After a long silence, she asked, ‘Is that it?’

‘The Alleviator,’ he said with pride. ‘Indeed it is.’

He could tell from her face that it was nothing like she had imagined. How often had ladies told him they’d been expecting something huge and fearsome? A massive steam-driven automaton that would violently pound the nervous energy out of them and leave them feeling plundered? He was fascinated by the wild fancies that seemed equal parts fear and desire. What strange creatures women were, really.

‘The patient lies here,’ he explained, touching the padded surface of the table, ‘and the motor is concealed beneath.’

Justine dropped to her knees to peer under the table, gazing at the device and trying to guess how it worked. He knew she would never ask him outright.

‘Would you like to see how it works?’

She jumped as if he’d read her mind and cast her eyes down shyly, her silence all the answer he needed. It was another thing he’d learnt in his dealings with women; they so often needed the illusion of coercion or even force to ease their sense of shame. He had become a master at such games and found that the intricate manoeuvring only added to the fun.

He placed his hands around her waist and lifted her up onto the table. She uttered a little squeak of surprise but didn’t protest.

‘And now you must lie back,’ he said, pushing her down with a hand against her breastbone.

She resisted only for a moment before letting him lower her into position. If she was surprised that he hadn’t asked her to undress she didn’t let on. He had, after all, assured her that it was all entirely proper. A lady didn’t have to be naked to allow access and he was very careful about which ones he demanded it of. All it took was one knowing husband and the whole lucrative venture would be ruined. Today he merely wanted to give Justine a taste, enough to whet her appetite for more. He was determined that in time she would learn to ask for what she wanted.

She blinked in surprise as he gathered her skirt and raised it to her waist before she could object. But she was cowed by her earlier reluctance and, although she stiffened a little at the exposure, she lay still.

‘Good girl. And now if you’ll just part your legs, just a bit …’

She closed her eyes and did as she was told. Underneath she wore the customary open-seam drawers. The garment clothed each leg to the knee, but the legs were separately stitched to the drawstring at the waist, allowing for easy access to the exposed crotch. He had provided them along with her uniform, but he had treated her (and himself) to a fashionable frill of lace at the kneebands. A bit above a maid’s station, but who would ever see but him? Well, perhaps that wretched Ralph …

Justine trembled as he firmly pulled her knees a little further apart. Dampness glistened like dew on the dark thatch of hair at the branching of her thighs.

‘Dear me,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘This won’t do at all.’

The little maid looked instantly alarmed, fearful she’d done something wrong. ‘Sir?’

‘You are not appropriately prepared.’

She blinked, not comprehending.

‘All my patients must be shaved,’ he explained, ‘for reasons of safety and hygiene. You can hardly expect me to probe and stroke and treat the nether parts of you in anything like the detail you need if they are concealed.’

Without waiting for a response, he fetched his shaving things. Of course, the procedure wasn’t necessary at all; it was just his preference. He liked to see everything. Most women found the experience highly erotic, although naturally they tried to pretend they were merely obeying his obscure orders.

The shaving also served another purpose. It ensured that a lady would show herself to no one else, not even another physician. It was as good as a mark of ownership. In this case it would give Justine extra incentive to see that Ralph kept his hands to himself. At least until the hair grew back. Then he would have to contrive an excuse to shave her again.

Justine’s eyes widened as she saw the straight razor. ‘Will it hurt?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘Not if you’re a good girl and hold very still for me.’ Then he set about daubing her with shaving soap.

She jumped a little at the first touch of the brush but after that she didn’t move. He coaxed her legs wide apart and painted her sex with lather. He couldn’t resist pressing the soft bristles well up against her, which elicited a little moan. Her thighs relaxed and her legs opened wider still, like the petals of a hungry flower spreading itself for the rays of the sun.