A Treatment for Melancholia
Mr. Johnson rocked back and forth with the steady rhythm of the trolley, he sat reading the paper, and doing his best to ignore the people around him. He finished the news and then turned to the back classifieds. He usually didn't read such tripe, cures for baldness etc. but today something caught his eye.
Is your wife not quite the woman you married? Is she depressed? Listless? It could be melancholia. It's a treatable condition. Results guaranteed. Dr. Livingston 809A Main St.
That was a word Mr. Johnson liked to see. But he was still cautious. His wife wasn't quite the woman he married, oh she was still pretty with her curly red hair and her tight young body. She was better than a balding, slightly overweight man like him deserved, but he was rich and could afford the finest. And lately...he wasn't quite as sure he had the finest. No, lately the new had worn off. Her eyes didn't fill with gladness whenever he came home at night...more often as not late as usual.
Moreover, she had taken to nagging.
No, not the wife he had married at all.
He inspected the ad again. He had heard stories of some of these treatments already. But this one looked different. Guaranteed. He was temped on that word alone. It would be free if he wasn't satisfied. They didn't think he would hold them to the bargain, but they didn't know the sort of man he was. His mouth took on a sly grin and he looked around. He was on the 600 block of Main Street. 700. He was practically there already.
He pulled the cord for the next stop.
Not much of an office, Mr. Johnson thought as he climbed the narrow creaking steps and entered the cheaply furnished room.
Dr. Livingston could see the look of condescension written in the customer's eyes. But the well dressed man didn't know half of it.
It was a crummy office.
But it was an even crummier home. Yet, that was indeed what it was. There was a small bedroll hidden in the back cabinet, and that was where Dr. Livingston had slept each night for the last 3 weeks. It hadn't always been this way. She'd once been wealthy. Not well to do. But wealthy enough to pursue her passion to become a doctor. They wouldn't teach her in the United States; she'd had to go to France. She'd come back with just enough to start her practice. Yet, everyone so far had turned tale and ran the moment that she said she was a doctor. She'd lost her apartment, and much more and she'd soon be on the street.
"Is the Doctor in?" Mr. Johnson asked.
Dr. Livingston hated this portly bald fool already. As if SHE couldn't be the doctor. But she knew from experience that was a argument she couldn't win. Not with such small minded people as these.
"Not right now. But what is your ailment?" Dr. Livingston asked.
"Well...I saw your ad." Mr. Johnson said. He'd have rather said it to the doctor, but this may be even better. He could feel this woman out to see if it was worth his bother. "The one about melancholia. My wife...well she has all the symptoms. I was wondering...is this treatment some sort of tonic?"
"Oh no sir," Dr. Livingston said, while thinking. Yes! The ad. Finally some good news at last. "it isn't a tonic at all, but science. Magnetics. Electrics. The latest techniques thanks to Tesla and Edison sir."
"Electrics you say?" Mr. Johnson said. "Is it safe?"
"Of course. And effective." She had him. She just knew it.
"How much is the cost?" Mr. Johnson asked.
"Five dollars a treatment," Dr. Livingston said. She would be able to pay part of the rent on her office.
"That's awfully steep," Mr. Johnson said. "How much for half a treatment?"
Cheap bastard! How much for half a leg? Or arm? Half a case of measles?
"Sir, melancholia is a very serious condition as you probably already know, else you wouldn't be here today," Dr. Livingston said. "Besides, it is guaranteed. If you aren't satisfied, the next visit is free. That's like paying for half a treatment."
"Okay..." Mr. Johnson dug in his wallet and handed the receptionist a five from a fat clip of many larger bills. "I'll need a receipt."
He smiled as she bent over to write out the receipt, and smiled even wider when he gave her ass a good feeling up. The receptionist was older than he preferred, but she had an impudent tone that deserved a good feeling up.
"Sir!" Dr. Livingston gasped with outrage, as she spun around. She was tempted to give him a good slapping, but she stayed her impulse and her hand kept a death grip on the money he had given her. She swallowed her pride and handed him the receipt.
'What an ass!' Dr. Livingston thought as she locked the door behind him. Well, at least she had five dollars and her first patient. After advertising so many medical services for weeks with not the first client, this was a welcome change. But a client on the first day of her new ad for melancholia. Who would have thought?
Speaking of melancholia....
Dr. Livingston bent down and removed her panties and sat down on her examination table, a foot going into each of the stirrups. She turned the knob up to two and attached a small round attachment to the cord. It began to buzz. She touched it to her clit and began to make small circles with it.
That bastard! He had felt her up like she was a nothing...a nobody. Not a doctor. Not with the respect she deserved. But the buzzing probe took all those thoughts away. Replaced them with a welcome tingling.
It was her own invention. Well, the attachments were anyway. They were using the electrics in France when she left, but it was by accident she had touched it to her sex. Shocking! But then she thought....hmmm...I can use this. And with no clients and time on her hands...she did.
Moaning softy, she diddled her clit. Her hips thrust in response. Fuck. Oh fuck. The ad had been a last ditch effort. She could use the device on other women to treat their melancholia. It was better than tonics. At least it was for her. Her thighs began to tremble. She was gushing on the table. If only...if only it wasn't so messy.
Then she had another thought. She picked up a small bowl from a nearby table and sat it beneath her cunt. That should do it. She reached back and turned other knob to 1 and inserted the device in her very aroused sex.
Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck! The vibrations made her insides feel aflame. Her breath became ragged. Her thick thighs wouldn't stay still. The trembled. They clenched. They spread.
That smug rich asshole that had so infuriated her was quickly forgotten. There was only sensation. And heat. And there was something else now...an occasional spark of electricity that made her cunt spasm and buck. Made it clamp down on the small rod every two seconds.
Her hips thrust. Her cunt twitched. She held her breasts tightly with her hands and let the device work its magic, occasionally bending down to lick a hard thick nipple.
"Yes..yes...oh yes...." she moaned. And soon she was bucking, spasming, and twitching in pleasure. And a hot sweet...welcome ...orgasm.
When she was able, she turned the dials back to zero and pulled the rod from her sex. She looked in the bowl and crinkled her nose in response. She wondered how much it was...
She poured the contents into a small bottle. Hmmm....five teaspoons. Not bad. Not bad at all. She left the bottle on top of the device, took out a book and began to read. Soon after, she unrolled her bed and laid down. It hurt her back. And she was cold. After two hours of tossing and turning, she finally went to sleep.
The next morning, Cindy Johnson heard a knock on the door.
Who could it be at this hour she wondered? She was surprised when she opened the door. An older woman stood next to a large case on wheels.
"I'm not interested...." Cindy said. Although in truth she was. On the side of the case in large letters were the words, Electric. Magnetic. Miraculous.
"I'm not selling anything dear," Dr. Livingston said. "Your husband did tell you about the appointment he scheduled you for, didn't he?"
No he didn't. Damn it! He didn't tell her much of anything. But Cindy didn't tell the woman that. It would be improper.
Frank didn't say much to her these days. No, I love yous. No, I'll by home late tonight. Her mouth set into a frown as she thought of how he ignored her. Yet, she couldn't tell any of this to this woman standing at her door.
So, instead she answered," Of course he did...I - I just lost track of time."
"Be a dear and help me with my case," Dr. Livingston said.
On the bright side, it looked like Cindy was going to finally be able to learn what was inside that intriguing case. She couldn't help but be a bit disappointed when it was finally opened. It was all knobs, cords, and strange looking metal shapes, she could make head nor tales of.
"What is it that my husband was interested in purchasing?" Cindy asked.
"Purchasing?" Dr. Livingston said. "Oh you misunderstand my purpose here. He's sent me here to treat your melancholia."
"Melancholia?" Cindy said, holding her hand to her chest, now not sure of this woman, her husband...and now herself.
"But of course..." Dr. Livingston said, and soon the young housewife found herself hustled into the living room and before she could argue, the examination had begun.
"Open dear." Dr. Livingston inserted the tongue depressor in the young newlywed's mouth, giving a cursory glance at her throat, but mainly to shut her up. "Say ahhh..."
"Have you had symptoms of weakness? Irritability? Difficulty sleeping? Please remove your blouse so I can check your heart."
It was all going so very fast for Cindy. Cindy soon found her blouse and brazier had been removed, and a cold stethoscope applied to her chest. It all seemed so professional, much like her other visits with the doctor, yet she was suspicious. Who ever heard of a woman doctor? Cindy could feel her nipples stiffening due to the cold metal of the stethoscope.
"Deep breath in..." Dr. Livingston said. "Now release. Again."
Dr. Livingston put the stethoscope back in the case. "Very good. Other than the melancholia, you seem in good physical condition. Now I need you to remove the rest of your clothing."
"Excuse me?" Cindy asked, clearly uncomfortable with this new request.
"The rest," Dr. Livingston said. "Look girl, I don't have time for dramatics, I have another client was a broken leg I need to get to."
A broken leg? The doctor obviously had important things to be doing. People with actual ailments, and Cindy didn't really think she had melancholia. She didn't want this unwanted attention. She certainly didn't want someone to suffer additional pain while she procrastinated with the doctor. And then the young housewife found herself obeying the older woman's orders. Taking off her skirt, girdle, garters, stockings, and panties.
Oh this girls a looker, Dr. Livingston thought to herself as she watched the timid housewife disrobe. Her body was lean and young. Her hair was strawberry blonde. Her eyes big and blue. Freckles covered her cheeks, breasts, and shoulders. Her nipples were the pinkest pink she had ever seen. A young housewife. Married only a year and already her husband wasn't satisfied. Such a shame. Well, there was no help for that, it was five dollars and Dr. Livingston needed the money desperately.
Dr. Livingston took out a metal attachment, this one a long metal wand and attached it the the wire. She turned the second knob to 2. That should do the job.
"Tell me if this is uncomfortable," Dr. Livingston said and then she touched the tip to Cindy's pretty ear.
"Ouch!" Cindy jerked back reflexively. She'd never experienced such a sensation, except maybe when she had hit her funny bone against something.
"Curious," Dr. Livingston said. "Was even this low setting uncomfortable to you?"
"Not uncomfortable," Cindy said. "Just surprising. The metal is cold."
But she had lied. She wanted to know something first before answering truthfully. "Why? Is it an indication of something?"
"Melancholia dear," Dr. Livingston said. "But you have nothing to fear since you merely reacted to the cold. Nothing to fear at all."
The wand was waving menacingly. Cindy tensed in anticipation, watched as it neared her neck only to change course and move to her breast, before finally settling on her lean stomach.
"Oh!" she gasped as her insides danced.
"Still too cold," Dr. Livingston asked, then warming the probe in her hand. Surreptitiously switching off the juice before doing so.
The housewife watched as the doctor held the probe that caused her such distress with no apparent problem. Then the probe stuck out again, this time sending a shock to her thigh.
"Perhaps you are ticklish?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Do you have sensitivity to being tickled?"
"Yes doctor," Cindy lied, feeling more and more unsure of herself by the moment. Did she have melancholia? And if she did, was she in danger? But she had already lied, and now she couldn't bring herself to admit the truth.
"We can't have you jumping and giggling whenever I touch you," Dr. Livingston said. "You could hurt yourself or damage my equipment. Down on the floor with you Mrs Johnson. On all fours."
"What for?" Cindy asked. "Are you sure that's proper?"
"Of course I'm sure," Dr. Livingston said. "I'm your doctor."
"But...but..." the young housewife stammered as the doctor guided her down on all fours.
"Sush dear," Dr. Livingston said. "This won't take but a moment. Put your hands in here."
And then she held open a loop she had quickly fashioned from the young woman's stockings.
"What is this for?" Cindy said, even as her wrists were cinched tight and tied to a sofa leg.
"This isn't necessary doctor," Cindy plead. "I'll hold still. I promise."
"If I had a dime for every time someone said that, I'd be a rich woman," Dr. Livingston casually replied, as she secured the housewife's ankle to the other leg of the sofa with her scarf. Finally she looped the girl's other ankle with her stockings and began pulling the leg over to a nearby chair.
"Madam I implore you," Cindy said angrily as she began to struggle uselessly. She had been holding her in temper, but at last it flared. However by now it was far too late. "Untie me this very instant. My husband is on the council. I'll....I'll have you thrown out of this city on your ass - doctor or no doctor."
"There's only one problem with that," Dr. Livingston said. The first problem was that Dr. Livingston had nothing to lose, but she didn't mention that detail. She chose another tact.
"Your husband wanted this examination. He's quite worried about your mental state. He described your symptoms of melancholia to me perfectly. Now, that doesn't mean you have the disease, but I would be remiss if I didn't test you thoroughly."
The doctor turned the knob up to four this time and proceeded to work. She touched the probe here and there. On less sensitive skin first, before moving on to other areas. A soft pale bottom. The small of a well-formed back. A toned lean stomach. A trembling thigh.
"Just tickling still?" Dr. Livingston asked. "No discomfort? No strange sensations?"
The doctor watched the young housewife's wild eyes. Watched her attention fixate on the probe. Watched her face grimace as it approached. Watched her steel herself. Then watched her young perfect body spasm delightfully from the effects of the electricity even as she mentally tried her best to resist. Watched her test her bonds. Listened to the young woman lie over and over again. Until at last the probe moved slowly toward her sex.
"No..." Cindy moaned. "Oh God...please..."
"What dear?" Dr. Livingston said. "Feel okay still? We are almost done with the test setting and then we'll try it for real next time."
Test setting? God, what would the other feel like. Cindy's tongue loosened.
"....I feel it doctor. It isn't tickling at all," she admitted. "It feels like a harsh tingling. Like a hit to my funny bone. Only it isn't on my funny bone at all."
"Oh dear," Dr. Livingston said. "This is just what I was afraid of."
"Of what?" Cindy didn't like the tone of the doctor's voice. If the doctor was afraid, then Cindy was very very afraid.
"Melancholia dear," Dr. Livingston said convincingly. "One of the worst cases I've ever seen."
"Really?" Cindy whispered. "I don't feel bad. No more than most..." But now she wasn't sure. She had been feeling a little worse than usual lately. Tired. Irritable.
"The test doesn't lie dear," Dr. Livingston said. "But don't worry, there is a treatment. A new one thanks to advances in science. One that I'm sure you'll like much better than that dreadful test."
Dr. Livingston was busy unscrewing the wand from the cord. She looked in the chest and pulled out an new device. This one had a handle about as big around as her thumb and a small ribbed ball on the end. She turned the electrics knob back to zero and turned the vibration knob to one.
She aimed the new attachment at the young housewife's sensual lips, only to have the girl pull away reflexively.
"Please..." Cindy begged. "Don't..."
"Sush...." Dr. Livingston said. "I promised you'd like this..."
She touched the probe to Cindy's swan-like neck. The girl gasped and jerked back. Then realized that the doctor was correct. It didn't hurt. She held still while the probe traced its way down her back. It felt rather nice. She didn't start struggling again until the probe made its way lower and lower. To her bottom. Dear Lord...between her cheeks.
Oh God! What was this dreadful woman up to? Cindy struggled against her bonds.
"Wait!" Cindy gasped. "What are you doing?"
"Why I'm going to stimulate your melancholia gland," Dr. Livingston said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. All the while honing in on the young woman's sexy little pussy.
"I said wait dammit!" Cindy shouted. Goddamnit! The woman wasn't listening at all. Worse, Cindy couldn't do anything about it. "First ahhh.. tell me...ah..damn you woman...where is oh!...where is the gland?"
But Cindy knew already. Then it was too late. For the wand was now inside her. Humming. Vibrating. Making her tingly. The metal felt so cold. Yet still it was making her hot.
"It's inside you dear," Dr. Livingston said, as she moved the probe in and out Cindy's perfectly pink pussy. "In here. Haven't you noticed how when you are stimulated here, your mood improves? Or how when you have you monthlies, you feel absolutely horrid?"
"Yes..." Cindy gasped. But this was her sex. Hers. And now this horrid woman had something inside her. Doing things that had never been done before. Not by her husband. Not even by her. Things that made her feel as if she were losing control. And Cindy hated losing control. She closed her eyes and tried to fight these new feelings.
"Do you have a bowl dear?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Your gland was quite swollen and making a mess of your floor."
"The...the kitchen..." Cindy said and looked down between her legs. One drop and then another and another. Oh God...she was making a mess. She contracted her sex only to have it grip the vibrating beast inside her and drip all the more. "Gods...hurry woman...ah..damn...damn you...that rug is expensive..."
The doctor rummaged through the kitchen and Cindy looked down helplessly. She had always noticed that her sheets were always wet after sex. She had assumed it was her husband's fault..but now she was beginning to suspect it was hers. Was the woman going to take all day?
Then there was a knock on the door. Could it be her husband? He would put a stop to this madness. She almost yelled out Frank, but then realized he wouldn't have knocked. Then she saw the doctor going to the door. God no!
"Wait!" Cindy shouted. "Ahhh..please..ah...please dont' answer it."
"Oh that wouldn't be polite dear," Dr. Livingston said.
"Don't you dare fucking open that goddamn door!" Cindy shouted, losing all pretense of being a proper lady. Anyone seeing her there on the floor, all spread out like some sort of slut, leaking on the floor like a faucet, would lose all respect for her.
Dr. Livingston ignored her and opened the door anyway.
"Can I help you?" Dr. Livingston said.
"Yes," the older woman said, sticking her long curious nose in the door to look around. "I just wanted to be sure you got here okay. That my directions were sufficient."
"They were perfect," Dr. Livingston said. "Next door to the right, just like you said."
The woman was making it hard, Mrs. Smith thought. Playing it close to the vest. She'd seen the case. Electronic. Marvel. Magnetic. Whatever it was, she deserved it. Not the young stuck up housewife that lived here.
"I couldn't help but notice your case," Mrs. Smith said. "After you left I couldn't help but wonder why you didn't stop at my house? Whatever you are selling here...it's only fair that I have my chance as well."
"Selling?" Dr. Livingston wondered. Perhaps she should try selling her device for all that people asked about it. However, it was doubtful they'd be able to buy such an expensive device. "You misunderstand. I'm a doctor, not a saleswoman. I'm here to treat Mrs. Johnson.
"Treat her?" Mrs. Smith asked, perking up at the thought of learning some new gossip. "Whatever does the poor dear have?"
"I shouldn't say this," Dr. Livingston whispered. "But she has melancholia."
"Melancholia?" Mrs. Smith asked. "Oh dear. Is it terminal?"
Could this be a new customer, Dr. Livingston wandered opened the door and ushered the woman in. "Would you like to come in for some tea? Then I could tell you all about it."
Poor Cindy Johnson. Leaking. Dripping. Tingling. Blushing furiously there on the floor. Helpless. Hearing the exchange at the door and her stomach filling with dread at the though. Finally taking matters into her own hands. "Mrs. Smith..." Cindy shouted from the den. "I'm indisposed at the moment. Please come back later."
Mrs. Smith hesitated momentarily. She wanted to come in now more than ever, but she didn't want to make the mistress of the house mad.
"Pay her no mind," Dr. Livingston said. "It's the melancholia talking."
"Don't you dare come in here," Cindy shouted. But she heard the two sets of steps echoing on against her polished wood floor. Damn! Double damn! "I mean it. I do. The den...the den is off limits to you....
Cindy didn't even struggle at her bonds anymore. She knew it was useless. She hung her head in shame. That bitch didn't listen. What else could go wrong? Now, she'd be the talk of the block thanks to that gossiping old witch. Oh God. Spread as she was. Sweating. Leaking.
But then, she began to have hope once again when she heard Dr. Livingston stop Mrs. Smith in the doorway.
"Are you squeamish at all Mrs. Smith?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Because I must warn you that I'm treating Mrs. Johnson at this very moment. Do you consider yourself intellectual? Because some people find science a bit daunting."
"I consider myself a worldly woman.." Mrs. Smith said. "And I took care of my poor Harold before he passed away."
"Then come," Dr. Livingston said. "Let's go make a pot of tea and chat while Cindy finishes her treatment."
Mrs. Smith's curiosity was aroused, she wasn't sure what she expected to find, but what she didn't expect was a nude woman on her hands and knees, tied, spread, and with some sort of cord running out of her sex.
"Oh my!" she exclaimed, her hand automatically going to her mouth.
"Don't stare dear," Dr. Livingston said. "You are embarrassing the poor thing. Let me put this bowl in place so she doesn't make a mess on her expensive rug. Now about that pot of tea..."
The two older women went to the kitchen and put a pot of water to boil, while Cindy kept her head lowered in shame. God, her neighbor had seen her dripping on her floor. Could it get any worse?
Back in the kitchen.
"What did you say she had?" Mrs. Smith asked.
"The treatment looks dreadful," Mrs. Smith said. "Is it painful?"
"The treatment itself feels rather good I'm told," Dr. Livingston said. "But you must understand the patient isn't of her right mind. She's prone to suffer from outbursts of temper, delusions, and spontaneous fits. Even suicide and death.
"I always knew there was something wrong with her," Mrs. Smith said.
And while the water began to boil in the kitchen, Cindy Johnson was coming to a boil in the den. She felt all tingly inside. So warm. So hot. Her loins were all aflame. Good God, it felt like she was going to go out of control. To have one of these fits the doctor spoke of. Was this a new symptom of her melancholia?
When the two older women returned to the den, Cindy's control had faded even further. Her back was drenched in sweat. She had gone down to her elbows. Her legs were now spread wider than they were tied. Her hips pumped rhythmically, trying to find purchase on the vibrating probe secured firmly in her sex. There was no sound except the droning hum of the vibrator, a young housewife heavy breathing, and the steady drip drip as her secretions dropped into the bowl beneath her.
And her mind screamed she should be embarrassed. She should be mortified. Yet her body was in firm control of her facilities now. The women's presence and her own helpless state made the lightning in her loins dance all the more.
The doctor brought two chairs in from the dining table, placing one between Cindy's legs and another near her head. The two older women sat down, with the naked housewife tied there between them.
"She sounds like a pig..." Mrs. Smith said, after taking a dignified sip of her tea. "Grunting and sqeaking...."
"The poor dear can't help it, it's the melancholia that has her." Dr. Livingston said. "Would you mind turning the dial there...yes...the first one. Could you turn it up to four please?"
Mrs. Wilson bent down until she was near the case. A knob? Oh there it was. She could smell the young housewife's sweat. Her arousal. She could feel her hot breath on her cheek. She could hear the whispered, oh God..oh dear God no.....as she turned the knob clockwise to four.
"Oh no...ah...ah...ah..." Cindy breathed. The sensations in her sex were magnified. She felt a welling up inside her body. As if something were going to explode. "Dr....I ....feel...as if ..I'm ab out to have...some sort of....seizure...."
"Fight it," Dr. Livingston urged. "Fight it." But instead of helping the housewife with the battle she was fighting against her body, the doctor Unhooked the probe from the strap and began to pump it in and out. Working her with it.
"It must be dreadfully painful?" Mrs. Smith said, her voice growing breathy.
"I wouldn't know," Dr. Livingston said. "But she certainly is making a fuss over it, isn't she?"
Every muscle Cindy owned tensed up, yet that didn't stop the feeling of warmth that flowed through her tender loins. Then pleasure like she'd never known hit her like a ton of bricks.
"Ughh..." Cindy grunted. Her hips pumped, her body doing it of its own volition at first, but later the young housewife gave in and worked herself on the vibrating probe. Fucking it in a manner she'd never even done for her own husband - more animal than timid shy newlywed. Working. Arching her slim flexible back. Going back onto her haunches. No amount of shame or humiliation could make her stop. "Yes..yes..yes..." she grunted.
Dr. Livingston watched the young woman give herself to the pleasure. Watched the probe moving in and out the girl's wet pink lips. Watched, enthralled and amazed as the girl came...no gushed in such volume and quantity. And something in her just clicked. Oh she had suspected from the moment she'd met her. She was attracted to this small slim pixie of a housewife. She knew that it was unnatural. She knew that it could bring her complications. And yet she was just as helpless as Cindy to stop the things that were happening.
That she was making happen.
"Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "I regret I didn't bring a nurse with me today to assist me. I thought this would be a routing house call...I never suspected to find the poor dear in such dire circumstance. I hate to ask you this...but would you mind helping?"
"What must I do?" asked Mrs. Smith.
"Nothing much," Dr. Livingston said. "Just continue what I'm doing. I must give her a tonic now."
Mrs. Smith got up from her chair and moved next to the doctor. Watching what she was doing. It looked easy enough.
"Is that all?" she asked taking the handle of the probe. "Just pump it in and out?"
"That's it," Dr. Livingston said, amazed that the neighbor was consenting so easily. "You want to try to drain all the infection from her melancholia gland. See how much she's already released?"
"Disgusting...filthy...." Mrs. Smith said. "To think I thought she was a proper woman...respectable...considering who she married...but she's...she's like some sort of slug...."
And though the harsh words filled her with shame....Cindy was helpless to stop her body from reacting to the pleasure that held her so firmly- so tightly in its grip.
While the older woman pumped, Dr. Livingston moved around to the front of the hapless newlywed. She removed the bottle from her case. The bottle that contained her own secretions from the day before. She knew what she was doing was wrong. So very wrong. But she couldn't stop, even as she unstoppered the bottle filled the teaspoon up with the viscous creamy liquid.
"Open up dearie," Dr. Livingston said. "It's time for your medicine."
"God, she stinks," Mrs. Smith said. "She smells like a disgusting fish."
Cindy's cheeks burned in shame. God, she just wanted this horribly embarrassing experience to be over with. She opened her mouth and accepted the spoon. It wasn't what she the strong burning taste she expected. It was thicker. More inert. Musty.
Though her insides protested, she swallowed obediently.
"Please doctor," Cindy whispered, oblivious to the thick strand of the viscous liquid dangling from her lip. She felt herself losing control again. Oh God, not like this...
"Can you at least....I beg you....at least get rid of her..."
The poor newlywed had hoped to resist a bit more. She had figured she had a few more minutes at least. Yet, Mrs. Smith seemed to anticipate the young newlywed's weakness. She pressed the probe home. Working the makeshift vibrator against her in all the right places. Working her over with it.
"Oh God....oh God...." Cindy moaned in despair as she was overcome by pleasure once again.
"Oh here it comes doctor, here it comes again. I did it." Mrs. Smith said with satisfaction as the housewife gushed again and again. "I had thought it would be like juicing a fruit doctor...but it's more like....more like milking a cow. And quite easy once you have the hang of it."
Dr. Livingston fed the girl two more spoonfuls of her own nectar. As she did so, she realized what she most wanted was to give it to her directly from the source. She was determined to. Yet, she wondered if Mrs. Smith would consent to doing such a thing. She must proceed with caution.
"How much of the infection has she passed Mrs. Smith?" Dr. Livingston asked.
Mrs. Smith looked into the bowl and hazarded a guess. "An eighth of a cup or so doctor. She's made quite a mess of it. A cow would be less messy..."
"So much?" Dr. Smith asked with incredulity, yet she had already figured it to be a lot. "I'm afraid the girl is in real danger. I fear I didn't bring enough tonic. I see no other way to save the girl unless a terrible sacrifice is made."
"A sacrifice" Mrs. Smith asked. "Of what sort? I think I've done as much as any neighbor could be asked. My hands are ruined..and God she's disgusting..."
"I must give her a transfusion." Dr. Livingston reached beneath her dress and pulled down her underwear. "Straight from the source. There's no time to waste." Dr. Livingston removed a pillow from the sofa and reclined on it in front of the poor newlywed. Spreading her thick legs wide.
"This may be too much for you, Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said to Mrs. Smith. "You may leave if you feel squeamish."
Mrs. Smith licked her lips hungrily in response. Her eyes eager to witness this final degradation of her snotty neighbor. "Oh no Doctor, I'll stay till till the very end. No matter the hardship."
But the young housewife had already endured quite enough.
"No!" she exclaimed. She spit on her expensive rug, God...what had she had in her mouth already? What had she swallowed? Was this the medicine? Was this the source? She felt as if she were going to gag.
"Hurry girl," Dr. Livingston urged, bringing her hairy pussy closer to the dismay of the young newlywed. "Hurry..."
"Go to hell!" Cindy spat.
Smack! Pain blossomed on Cindy's ivory bottom. A red hand print was left in its wake.
"That's no way to speak to your betters girl," Mrs. Smith warned. "Now apologize." And she delivered a blow. Then another. And another.
Cindy thought she'd be able to easily resist the pain. At least till her husband returned. But Lord, the woman had a heavy hand. She tried to resist. God how she tried. Then her chin began to tremble. Tears began to fall hopelessly down to the rug below.
"I'm...sorry...doctor..." she whined.
"Good girl," Mrs. Smith said, ceasing to spank the housewife's bottom, and returning to pumping her with the vibrating probe. "Now you get to work girl. It's time for your medicine."
Pleasure felt so much better than the pain. Cindy wished she were stronger. Yet, she couldn't help but doubt. What if she had melancholia? What if she were in real danger? If so, she'd be risking her life by resisting. She wormed her nose into the doctors curly hair. Found the slit beneath. Formed her mouth into a small 'O' and placed it to the opening and sucked.
"That's a good girl," Dr. Livingston said. "But not like that. It would be all day. First, the medicine must be coaxed. With your lips...kiss it there and there...gently..gently....oh that's nice....now use your tongue. Up and down my slit. Wonderful. Just like that. Make sure to go all the way up. See how it opens for you...like a pink flower."
Cindy looked down. She could see what Dr. Livingston meant, the woman's sex had opened like a pink flower. But Gods...to lick a woman there. Though it was part of her treatment...it still felt....
"Don't just stare at it all day. Keep going. That's a girl. Ahhhh...lick the petals of my flower. And like the top...just there. Oh so gently. Now look. Do you see how my pearl has swollen?"
Cindy nodded her head in response.
"Now you may suckle at the mouth of the flower, you've coaxed some medicine..."
Cindy formed her lips into an "O" and sucked at the mouth of Dr. Livinston's sex. The older woman gave a low pitched moan and spread her legs wider. "Splendid...now coax some more medicine."
And thus Cindy learned to coax a woman's juice. It was hard work and made her tongue ache. It also left her face a mess of sticky nectar. The largest drops and thick strands, Dr. Livingston collected on her fingertip and fed to the young newlywed. Until finally she came and inundated the poor girl with a copious amount of womanly nectar.
By the time Dr. Livingston collected herself and stood up on her wobbly legs, Mrs. Smith was already hitching up her skirt and taking off her panties.
"I milked her quite a bit more," Mrs. Smith said. "Nearly a quarter cup. She must be quite sick. I fear we must both do our fair share."
"I don't think it fair to ask you to put yourself out in such a fashion," Dr. Livingston said.
"Oh it's no bother," Mrs. Smith said as she gave the young housewife a hard smack on her rump. Just wait till she told her friends about this. About what she had done to stuck up little Cindy Johnson. Her heart was racing she was so excited.
"You aren't going to give me any trouble are you girl?" Mrs. Smith asked.
"No.." Cindy muttered. She had lost track of the number of times her body had seized up in pleasure. Each seizure had taken its toll. Robbing the formerly outspoken woman of her spunk. Of her will to fight. Nearly a quarter cup of it filled the bowl between her slim legs, leaving her as meek and docile as a little lamb.
The portly woman took her place where Dr. Livingston had lain. Taking a bit more time to get the extra sixty pounds she carried situated on the pillow at her back.
"After all girl," Mrs. Smith said. "I'm doing this for your benefit."
Dr. Livingston looked between the older woman's legs. At the mass of damp dark hair. Her lips already open and dripping. Her clit swollen and engorged. 'No, you are not doing this for her benefit alone,' she thought to herself and smiled knowingly.
Cindy soon learned this was a different sort of cunt than the doctor's. Where the doctors curly hair was silky and fine, Mrs. Smith's was thick and coarse. The musky odor of her neighbor was almost overwhelming compared to the hint of roses from the doctor. The cunt itself was swollen like a ripe peach. With the doctor, she had to coax and coddle it with her lips and tongue, with her neighbor she just held on for the ride. She did her best to catch her breath while the woman ground against her lips, her tongue, her nose and face. Till at last Mrs. Smith began to gasp and moan.
"Oh..oh...oh...oh!" Mrs. Smith's body tensed, her hips pumped, and at last she relaxed. Then she ordered the young housewife to lick up the secretions she missed.
Afterwards, Dr. Livingston asked Mrs. Smith, "The poor dear is going to need some looking after for the next few days. I'm afraid I can't pay you anything..."
"It's no problem," Mrs. Smith said, casting a hungry look down at the helpless and naked newlywed lying on the floor. "I'm a good Christian woman. I'll make sure she is well tended."
"Her infection should be drained daily," Dr. Livingston said. "I can't leave my device, but perhaps this will suffice." She handed the portly woman a medium sized phallic object. It was mean to be plugged in, but it would still work.
"No problem," Mrs. Smith casually inspected the well shaped metal device with casual disdain.
"And have her husband make another appointment for next week."
"Perhaps we should see about untying her now." Dr. Livingston said.
"You go on ahead doctor," Mrs. Smith said. "I think have just a bit more medicine to give her."
Dr. Livingston watched Cindy's eyes widen in alarm. Help me, they begged.
"You are truly a saint Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "If everyone had a neighbor like you, the world would be a much better place."
Dr. Livingston packed up her case while Mrs. Smith settled back on the cushions. This time she had stripped out of her dress. The doctor didn't find the portly woman's fleshy body and large pendulous breasts arousing at all. Ah, but when she looked at the little red-haired newlywed, with her ivory flesh and perfect body, she could feel her pulse quicken. She shook her head lest she be tempted to taste the girl again.
"Be sure to keep track of the volume of her bad humours you are able to extract," Dr. Livingston said.
She wondered if the woman heard her. Mrs. Smith seemed too busy enjoying the young housewife.
"Get that tongue in there. Right up inside me. Oh! That's it. Just like that. Now, wiggle it around. Mmmmm....."
Dr. Livingston looked back. Watched as Cindy Johnson's took pleasure the way she wanted. Watched as she made Cindy's fine head of hair disappear between those thick thighs. Made her lick. Made her suck. Oblivious to the young newlywed's look of disgust.
"Now open that beastly mouth." Mrs. Smith demanded as she stood squarely and spread her legs, locking one thick thigh over Cindy's shoulder, and tipping the young woman's head back with a firm grip on her hair. She spread her cunt with her other thick fingers, and sped a digit over her clit. "Mmmphh...I have a present for you girl....oh oh...here it comes...swallow quickly now..else you'll have to lick it off the floor..."
Dr. Livingston smiled as she witnessed the young housewife catch the first spurt of woman cum in her mouth, and the next on her face. However, the third...the third leaked out of those swollen cunt lips and spattered on the floor.
She had come so close....yet the poor girl was going to have to lick it off the floor, Dr. Livingston thought as she looked back on final time and closed the door.
It was three weeks before Dr. Livingston managed to go by Cindy Johnson's house. During that time, word had spread around town. Wives that were irate and bitchy, became much more sedate and relaxed after a treatment. Women talked to one another as well, 'you must really get a treatment from the doctor. It's electrics and magnetics. It will leave you feeling as if you are queen of the world.'
Dr. Livingston was finally able catch up on her office rent. Even think of renting a home once again. Maybe even buying one. She had used her device on countless women, yet she couldn't get the first one from her mind. Cindy Johnson. She had a craving to see the girl again. She needed to. And yet an appointment hadn't been made. Well, she would just have to check anyway.
The door was answered by Cindy Wilson, but this wasn't the arrogant and impeccably dressed young woman that had greeted her three weeks ago. This girl was shy. Well mannered.
"Welcome to the Johnson residence," she said, with a tender smile. "How may I help you?"
Cindy was wearing a short night skirt. It was so thin it was practically see through. Dr. Livingston peered closely at the shape of the girls breasts visible through the thin fabric, then her eyes lingered down at the young woman's bare legs.
"I believe I can think of something," Dr. Livingston said.
"Who is it girl?" a booming harsh voice echoed from the den.
"It's the doctor madam...." Cindy answered.
"What's she doing here?" the sound of Mrs. Smith's footstep grew louder.
"Please help me," Cindy whispered to Dr. Livingston, her eyes growing wet with tears. "Please...I beg of you."
However, the instant Mrs. Smith turned the corner, the young woman changed into a new person. One happy and beaming.
"Oh I'm doing fine doctor," Cindy said cheerfully. "It's as if my melancholia has totally disappeared. And whenever it threatens to return, Mrs. Smith is kind enough to see to it that it doesn't burden me."
"What's keeping you girl?" Mrs. Smith as she stepped up to the front door.
"It's Dr. Livingston ma'am." Cindy said. "To check on my status I believe."
"And have you been telling the doctor any of your ridiculous stories?" Mrs. Smith said with an arched brow.
"No ma'am." Cindy said keeping her eyes downcast. "Just how well adjusted I was feeling due to your care."
"That's wonderful news," Dr. Livingston said. "How about we go in and perform an examination to be sure?"
"She's doing fine now," Mrs. Smith was curt and short as she told the doctor. "Surely there is no need for you to waste your time further."
"I'm already here," Dr. Livingston said. "And it won't take but a few moments. Now if you'll excuse us."
"I'll be right over here," Mrs. Smith said, helping herself to a nearby chair.
"Oh that won't do at all," Dr. Livingston said. "The examination is always done alone. Perhaps in thirty minutes you can return and help with her treatment....if it proves necessary."
"I'd rather stay," Mrs. Smith said. "Wouldn't it be best if you had someone who wasn't obviously delusional in case you have questions."
"I'm a doctor Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "I'm perfectly capable of dealing with someone suffering from melancholia. Even a severe case such as this. Besides, didn't you just say she was better? Now go on. It's time for her examination. I don't have all day."
Mrs. Smith reluctantly got up and made her way to the door. She looked back once. The warning in her eyes was clear. Don't you dare say anything.
As soon as the older woman left, the young newly began to babble hysterically.
"You must help me doctor," Cindy said. "She's awful truly awful. You wouldn't believe what she has done to me. My God, she even lives here now.
"Mrs. Johnson, you don't seem very thankful for all she's put herself through," Dr. Livingston chided.
"What about what she's put me through?" Cindy exclaimed. "Look!"
With that the young newlywed turned around and lifted her sleeping shift, exposing the bare cheeks of her bottom. Dr. Livingston couldn't help but notice the now healing stripes across those two beautiful cheeks. The woman had been whipped, and it wasn't with a palm this time, but a belt or some sort of lash.
"Oh my..." said the doctor, running her finger along one of those perfect globes, then feeling them up. "When did you do this to yourself? We must give you more treatments. As soon as possible. Go fetch Mrs. Smith."
The doctor knew this wasn't the case, but she needed to know more. And this seemed a sure way to get at the truth.
"No doctor...it wasn't me. That..that bitch did this," Cindy whined. "While I was on the dining table milking my filthy cu..." The young newlywed's cheeks turned crimson in shame.
"What were you saying dear girl?" Dr. Livingston pressed.
"That's what she calls it," Cindy muttered, blushing at her slip of the tongue. "And she makes me call it that too. My filthy cunt. I would never say such on my own...I used to call it my little friend...but not anymore..else she whips me.
She calls herself a good Christian, but you should hear her order me around. She tells me to get atop the table and milk my filthy cunt."
"The table?" The doctor wanted to see this herself. She wanted so desperately to see.
"The dining table doctor," Cindy blushed with humiliation. "And that's not the worst by a long shot. She hasn't used the device you gave her at all. Instead, she makes me mount a giant candle she has fashioned into a large perverse...cock ..........madam. If only to taunt me and humiliate me I'm convinced."
"You must be suffering from delusions girl." Dr. Livingston reached her hand up and felt the young housewife's forehead for a temperature then the sweet girl's chest. "Are you feverish?"
"I'm not delusional," Cindy dragged the doctor into the dining room and removed a large vase. It had a false bottom and there rising up luridly from the table, a large white phallus just as the girl described.
It was actually much larger than Dr. Livingston imagined. Her mouth gaped in astonishment. Surely not! And yet the sight made excitement run through her loins.
"Is this some sort of game you are playing at?" Dr. Livingston said. "Planting some sort of prop and then send your neighbor from the house? Am I just to take your word for it then? The word of a delusional melancholic over a good Christian woman? Any fool can see that this candle is much more than you could accommodate. Now be a dear and go fetch Mrs. Smith. You've got some explaining to do."
"But...but..." Cindy stammered. This wasn't going well at all. She must convince the doctor the only way she knew how. She opened the cabinet of the bureau and took out a bowl, placing it under the table. Then she shrugged out of her thin shift. Then used the chair as a step, and went to the top of the table.
"I know it's big doctor. And I've told her a hundred times that it's too big for me ...or at the very least... to let me do this elsewhere," Cindy said. "If someone were to come to the front door, they might see through the sheers. But the fat witch just laughs and tells me I better hurry then."
Cindy stuck her finger in her mouth for moisture, then ran it over the lips of her sex. Then she spit on the head of the large wax phallus. It's large girth even more pronounced as the slim woman spread the lubrication over the head and down the shaft with her tiny hands.
"When I first saw it," Cindy explained. "I thought it was some sort of joke. No way would such a monster go inside of me. But she used the lash to convince me. Oh she did doctor. You've seen the bruises. And it took a great deal of convincing. Trust me on that."
The petite newlywed moved her delicate feet out, straddling the vulgar candle. It was too big for the poor girl to make a go of it on her knees. So she had make do. Keeping on her feet. Thighs spread. Slowly lowering herself on it. Her slim thighs trembling with the effort.
She gave a groan as it slipped in. Her brows knit together. Her forehead grew moist, and so did her sex. She had it now. The worst was over. Up and down. Up and down. Shallow strokes, but each one took it deeper and deeper. Her juices wet along the thick wax shaft.
Dr. Livingston couldn't resist reaching her hand out, if to touch the sexy young girl if only for a second. Pushing her thighs open so she could see better.
"I can hardly believe it," Dr. Livingston said. "But you managed it. God you are sexy woman,"
Cindy blushed a bright crimson at the compliment. At one time such a comment from another woman would have angered her. But after three weeks of Mrs. Smith harsh barbs, she felt herself almost preen for a few kind words.
"She makes me do this during the bridge club," Cindy said, her voice husky and out of breath. "Her friends have taken to calling me names...just like her...they say I'm ugly. Skinny. That I stink of fish. That I'm filthy. How my face grimaces when I ....oh God...when I..."
And by now the young housewife was grimacing again. She couldn't help it. No matter how she tried. And she tried so hard. A smile. It should be so easy. And yet, she could feel her face scrunching. Couldn't stop from biting her lower lip.
"I see what those ladies are talking about," Dr. Livingston said. "What's causing you to make such a dreadful face my dear? Is it the melancholia? Are you having a seizure?"
"Oh God...ugh...I don't know doctor..." Cindy moaned. "It's as if...as if my face...has a mind... of its own when I'm being milked...I try...I try- but...oh ...oh...oh!"
And then a surge of pleasure flooded the young newlywed's loins. Hitting her with the force of a gale. Making her slim hips buck. Her legs dance and quiver. And no matter how many times it happened, she felt shamed each and every time as if it were the first. Her body gushed. Was milked. She held her hand in front to keep from making an even bigger mess. Guided her fluids into the indention made in the center of the table.
Dr. Livingston's nostrils flared as she realized what just happened. As she realized the quantity of discharge. My God, what a girl this was! I geyser of juice. What must it feel like to climax in such an explosive fashion?
Cindy pressed her fluids out. Cupping her pussy and pressing in. Using her finger to free as much as she could from her thighs, from the table, from her fingers. Pushing them into the indention and down through the freshly drilled holes.
Once the newlywed's body had subsided enough for her to get control of her spasming limbs, she began to climb off the massive phallus.
"I must see if I have milked it sufficiently," Cindy said, her cheeks burning a bright red.
"How much is required?" Dr. Livingston asked the young housewife as she retreated beneath the table to check the progress.
"Up to the line doctor. I fear I'm only halfway there."
"And you do this while they play bridge?"
"Yes...and while they make cruel comments and jibes...and then after I've milked myself...I have to come down here to check my progress...they don't let me up for hours....and until I've taken my tonic ...sometimes several times in a row...then I'm forced back to the tabletop again. They...they don't even wear panties when they come over any more."
"Dear, they are only helping with your treatment," Dr. Livingston said as she began to remove her panties. "While you are down there."
Underneath the table, so confining, nothing but her and a pair of stockinged legs, a large dress, strong thick thighs and a very wet pussy. It was a familiar sight by now. Cindy had hoped not to have to do such a thing again now that she told the doctor. But she hadn't given up hope yet...even as the young newlywed crawled forward and began to kiss...to lick...to suck.
"Oh dear!" Dr. Livingston gasped. The girl had learned a thing or two in her absence. Oh God! Her fingers ran through the pretty young woman's hair...a thing or three. In less than ten minutes the girl had coaxed an orgasm from the older woman..and quite an orgasm it was too. Positively mind blowing!
And for Cindy it was a pleasure compared to those other women. With their fat thighs and coarse hair, they very nearly always managed to chap her sensitive lips. And they smelled. Of staleness and mothballs. And a dank musk. The doctor's musk was fresh and florid with a hint of lilac. Her hair was curly and soft as down. And she didn't call her lazy. Or stupid. Or smelly. Instead she praised her.
"Oh you do that so well my dear. Such a soft and nimble tongue. Ah I've never felt such soft lips." Until at last the doctor grabbed the young housewife by her hair and pulled her tight as she spasmed from pleasure. And then after, it was almost impossible to keep still as the subjugated housewife licked and sucked every last drop of nectar from the well-sated cunt.
After the doctor came down from her orgasm, Cindy finally rose up from beneath the table. It was time for her to finish milking.
"Don't bother with that dear," Dr. Livingston said. "I can milk you far better than that monstrosity."
The doctor opened her case and hooked up a probe. Then she turned the dial to three. Yes, three would be splendid. Then she led the naked housewife to a nice comfy chair. The doctor sat down in it, placed a small bowl in her lap, and then perched the petite housewife there on arm of the chair.
So beautiful and meek, with her prefect pink skin and her perfect pink lips. Her shiny red hair. Dr. Livingston used the probe on the young woman. This wasn't a hard inflexible uncaring wax monster, but a small buzzing probe, working her, getting to know her, and giving her pleasure.
Pleasure so great, so overwhelming the young housewife didn't realize that she had fallen from the arm of the chair and into the arms of her doctor. Didn't realize it as she had nuzzled the woman's neck. Had kissed her painted red lips. Or that her tongue had left her mouth and danced with another woman's...until they were out and dancing as if they had known each other for years.
"Oh God! Oh God!" Cindy moaned. It was time. And she couldn't stop it. She just held on tight and put her hands over her sex to keep from gushing all over the good doctor. To guide it into the bowl down below. God, so much fluid. It was one of her biggest milkings yet.
Then after, she stayed there in the safety of the doctor's strong arms. With her tears flowing freely down her cheeks, she told the good doctor of her trial...and told her the worst of her tribulations...
It wasn't the milkings or the bridge club that had her so upset. Or even being treated like a servant in her own home. That could be endured.
"...oh doctor...please...you must help me...she is sleeping with my husband," Cindy blubbered. "I think it was her plan all along. She told him about my melancholia the very first night when he came home from work. She made up horrible lies of things I said. She promised him she'd look after me. And Frank...Frank was too scared to touch me. Mrs. Smith suggested I use my mouth on him....it wasn't fair that he should suffer due to my condition. And I did, but before I had even started, she came in the bedroom and began to give me pointers. How to do it properly.
I asked her to leave. And then she grew all haughty. You know the way she does. The bitch. She told me she was only trying to help.
It was just too much to bear. I mean...with my own husband...using my mouth on him....while Mrs. Smith disparaged me. All the while moving ever closer, until she held his cock in her thick pudgy fingers. Moving it out of the way whenever I tried to please him. Pushing it into my nose. Slapping it against my face. Telling me how lucky I was to have a husband with such a splendid cock even as she kept it away from me and taunted me with it. How it was a shame for him to have to put up with my sickness. How he deserved more than my clumsy attempts.
I..I...begged Frank to make her leave...but he just sat there and said she was only trying to help....even taking her side of things.
But I knew...I knew what that bitch was trying to do. Her fat fingers wrapped around his cock as she finally let me take him in my mouth. Only this time she pushed the back of my head, making me take him deeper and deeper until I began to gag and choke.
"You are so hopeless," Mrs. Smith said, her fat fingers still pumping up and down on my husband's cock while I gagged and coughed. "Anyway...that's quite enough of that. If it were going to happen, it would have happened already. Besides...isn't it time for another treatment."
But the clock hadn't rung yet. I told her I wasn't ready to leave. I looked to Frank to back me up. He wasn't even looking at me...just at that bitch...at the hand that still held his hard manhood. Worse, oh doctor. There was heat in his eyes. And then he ordered me to leave. My own husband.
And while I was downstairs on the table...in the dark...I could hear them...moaning...the bed creaking...she was fucking my husband and I had nothing...nothing but that horrible wax thing on the table...
"Perhaps they were just talking," Dr. Livingston said. This story had left her tingly. She needed to feel that sweet tongue again.
"They were in the room all night together...they...they locked me out. My own bedroom and they locked me out. In the morning...I could smell...I could smell her on my bed. I know her smell doctor...her horrid dank smell...I smell it when I eat...when I sleep...I have nightmares of that smell."
"I think you are being to harsh on your neighbor. You know how men are dear," Dr. Livingston gave the young girl a consoling kiss that started innocent enough, but then began to linger...and grow more insistent. "They think with their privates...and they can be very persuasive."
"I know," Cindy said, finding it hard to concentrate with what the doctor was doing. But she had to concentrate. She had to get rid of that horrible woman and only the doctor could help her now. "But it's HER I'm concerned about. She's not helping me. Quite to the contrary, she's using my ailment to her advantage. I sleep in the guest bedroom now, while she sleeps in the master bedroom. And you don't know what it's like. How hard it is...if I cry...if I'm unhappy...it's a sign of my melancholia....and then it's back on the table...or under the table...or the strap...I don't know which is worse."
"You poor dear," Dr. Livingston said. "And now it seems you are having another flare up again. So soon after your treatment too. Do you need some more tonic? I think you could coax a bit more out of me. Come on dear...why don't you go underneath my skirt this time. That's my poor sweet dear....let's have a smile...such a pretty face deserves a smile..."
The corners of Cindy's mouth moved up in a grimace. The doctor wasn't listening. Just thought she was some poor deranged lunatic.
"A real smile," Dr. Livingston said. "Or perhaps you need another trip to the table?"
Cindy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She rumaged around her brain to find just what she was looking for. Ah there it was...her seventeenth birthday...there in the livingroom...a shiny bike with a bow....
Cindy's grimace turned to a smile. Her eyes beamed fresh and vibrant.
"That's my girl," Dr. Livingston said raising her skirts. "Now come take your tonic."
"Thank you doctor," Cindy murmured as she disappeared beneath the older woman's skirts. The woman's pussy didn't smell of lilacs any longer, but sexual musk. She gave the woman another orgasm...all the while thinking of her favorite bike while she diligently licked and sucked. As best as she was able. Perhaps after...she'd be amendable to listening.
And after two orgasms, Cindy once again tried to coax the doctor into seeing her point of view. She kept down between the woman's thick thighs, and with lowered expectations, she licked and kissed her now and again to get her point across.
"But doctor...I really appreciate all you've done for me. And I'm thankful to have such nice neighbors, truly I am. But don't you think one that has a husband of her own would be a better caretaker for me? Perhaps you have an assistant of sorts?"
Cindy gave a shiver at the thought. Who knew what sort of person could work for the doctor...but whoever it was...she'd most likely be better than Mrs. Smith. Anybody would. Soon the doctor's fingers roamed freely through her curly red hair, all the while moaning 'Yes-yes-yes" to every question. Cindy took advantage sneaking a few well placed questions in. Afterwards, with her face coated with nectar, she knelt red faced and smiling. At last she was rid of that horrid Mrs. Smith.
"My dear," Dr. LIvingston said. "I'm amazed at how far you've come in these last weeks. Just look at that pretty face. And such a happy smiling face it is too, isn't it?"
Cindy smiled even bigger, even as her tongue snaked out and licked the older woman's engorged vulva. And the smile was a true and honest smile too. Not one brought about by thinking of a shiny new bike...but of a freshly paid complement...something that had been sorely lacking in these few short weeks.
"Then you've decided then?" Cindy asked, praying the doctor still remembered what she agreed to. "Will it be another neighbor that supervises my treatment? Or perhaps your assistant?"
"I haven't decided yet," the doctor said. "But I'm considering a lot of alternatives."
"Oh thank you doctor..thank you!" And with that Cindy kissed the woman on her crinkled purple tinted lips without a single thought for what was proper or not. And then she licked the good doctor in earnest to show her thanks properly.
It was while she was licking that Mrs. Smith decided she'd waited long enough.
"I see you are giving her another treatment," Mrs. Smith said. "And did you also milk her?"
"No...you keep going dear..." Dr. Livingston caught Cindy by the hair and held her in place. "Now it's time for me to talk to Mrs. Smith." To Mrs. Smith: "Yes, I've already extracted a large quantity of humours from the patient. So of course I'm giving her another dose of tonic. The patient says you've been doing quite a bit of extracting these few weeks."
"Lies..." Mrs. Smith spat. "Fantasies and fabrications."
"Oh?" Dr. Livingston said. "Cindy was telling me what a wonderful job you were doing with the extraction of her bad humours along with the rest of her treatment. Those were the instructions you were given. I thought you more responsible when I left you in charge..."
Cindy licked slower, enjoying hearing the doctor expose the old bitch that had come into her house and treated her like an animal and taken her husband. She was also relieved that the doctor didn't tell the woman what she'd said. Mrs. Smith was going to be her neighbor whether she liked it or not...and the woman scared the hell out of her.
"Oh no doctor," Mrs. Smith said. "I misunderstood what you were asking. I've milked her just as you said. See?"
Mrs. Smith went over to the buffet table and opened the bottom drawer and pulled out several jars full of milky fluid. "I've very nearly run out of room to put it all."
"Oh my!" Dr. Livingston said. Just the sight of it was almost enough to take her over the edge. She had to move Cindy tongue away to take a breather, before letting the girl start again. "You mean...that's ...that's all from her?"
"Oh yes!" Mrs. Smith said. "I used to work on a farm as a child. It's a simple enough matter to keep a schedule to determine the best times to milk her filthy cun...I mean extract her ah...bad...humours."
"Very inventive..." Dr. Livingston said.
"I needed to bring in some help," Mrs. Smith said. "I'd never be able to provide enough tonic on my own. So some of the neighbors have chipped in...to compensate."
"Such a wonderful neighborhood you live in Mrs. Johnson," Dr. Livingston said. "I've never seen so many woment so willing to help."
This wasn't going the way Cindy had figured. Mrs. Smith was turning it all around. She came up for air. "My husband...mmphhhh...." Only to have Dr. Livingston wrap a meaty thigh around the back of her neck and pull her in tightly.
"Yes..her husband," Dr. Livingston said. "I hear Mr. Johnson has been coming to you to relieve his sexual frustrations. One woman can't save the world Mrs. Smith, I don't want you neglecting the patient just because her husband can't keep it in his pants."
"Oh you know how men are," Mrs. Smith said. "Besides...I haven't been neglecting the little bitc...I mean...the patient. I've milked her. I put myself out for her. I've...I've brought in my friends to help. I've even...I've even helped her with Frank...when she clearly hasn't been able. He's a good man Frank is. It's a pity he's been burdened by such a sickly wife."
"If he's such a good man," Dr. Livingston said. "Then why hasn't he made an appointment for his poor sick wife?"
"He's been very busy," Mrs. Smith said. Cursing herself inside for putting him off from making an appointment with the doctor. She had been scared of the doctor finding out some of the things that had been going on. Now it seemed like she had been scared for no good reason. The doctor was only upset because an appointment hadn't been made. As well it should be...it wasn't as if she was doing anything wrong. Nothing at all.
"I understand he's a busy man," Dr. Livingston said. "But his wife needs treatment. Timely treatment."
"How much?" Mrs. Smith said. "Her fingers clutching at the clasp of her pocketbook."
"Five dollars." Dr. Livingston said.
"So much?" Mrs. Smith said. "How much for half a treatment?"
"How much to deliver half a baby?" Dr. Livingston asked condescendingly. "For half a life?"
"What if I sent her to your office in the afternoon? She's in the way here after our bridge game anyway. She could clean up for you a bit. Could I get some sort of discount then?"
"I wouldn't feel safe for the poor thing to be on the streets at night," Dr. Livingston said. "What if something untoward happened."
"She could stay overnight," Mrs. Smith interjected. Thinking: Then I'll have the bitch totally out of the way and her husband all to myself. "Then you could send her over in the morning."
"Mmmppphhh..." Cindy struggled to protest, but her mouth was full of snatch. Finally she was able to free herself to interject. "Wait...I won't leave that bitch alone with my husband.
"Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "I believe she's having another flare up of melancholia. Would you be so kind as to insert that probe inside her? Turn the left knob to 3 and the right knob to 4..."
Mrs. Smith gave a sly smile and turned them to 6 and 8 respectively.
"No....mpphhhh...." Cindy's body went rigid as the probe was inserted. It wasn't like before. No light vibrations to take her gently to orgasm. No, this time the vibrations were intense, plus there was a shocking pulse that was dealt to her insides that made them clench so hard, they nearly made her void her bladder.
"Now run it along her lips and her pearl," Dr. Livingston said as she held the young housewife trapped between her strong thighs.
Cindy was bucking like a horse saddled for the first time. She gave a gasp and moan as an orgasm racked her slim young body. Her pussy gave a spasm without warning and then she gushed, and erupted in a wet geyser. Covering the floor in the process and Mrs. Smith as well.
"Disgusting bitch," Mrs. Smith exclaimed. "Has she infected me?"
"Of course not," Dr. Livingston said. "Now shove it back inside. Quickly!"
"Mmmmppp....mmmplhhhff," Cindy grunted as her body was wracked by two more orgasms back to back. Her orgasms, already so very intense, were now painfully so. At this point she was willing to do anything...anything not to feel yet another one.
"Now turn the dial back down to 2 and the one on the right all the way off," Dr. Livingston said.
Mrs. Smith made only a passing effort, and turned them down a notch or two and kept at it, making the poor girl buck and writhe. This time taking care to stand well away from her cunt lest she erupt again.
The doctor released the young housewife's head from between her muscular thighs and tilted her chin up. It was impossible to tell where her sexual slime ended and the tears began.
"Are you feeling well dear?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Has your attack of melancholia subsided?"
Her chin trembling, Cindy managed to choke out a 'Yes, ma'am..." Before biting her lip and once again falling victim to another unwanted orgasm.
"Are you sure dear?" Dr. Livingston said. "You look like the world is ending. Mrs. Smith, will you please turn the knob to 5 again?"
"Oh no doctor!" Cindy exclaimed. "I'm fine. Truly I am. The attack...it's gone now. It was just so strong that it left me out of breath." The newlywed closed her eyes, and cast her mind back. She was twelve years old and looking in the dime store window and saw the prettiest shoes she'd ever seen. Her mom saw the yearning in her big blue eyes.
"Do you want those shoes dear?" her mom asked.
"Oh please...."Cindy exclaimed. "Can I have them?"
And her mom took her right inside and bought them. It was one of the happiest days of her life.
Cindy opened her eyes back up. Though they were still wet with tears, this time they were full of happiness.
"The fit has is over now doctor," Cindy said. "Truly it is. I'm feeling much better now. So very happy. It isn't necessary to give me another treatment. May I..may I just take my tonic?"
The young newlywed's pink tongue flicked out and caught the older woman's clit. It flicked out again but this time swirled around it twice.
"Please...just a bit of tonic" Cindy begged, having long since learned that a bit of licking could turn that hard bitch Mrs. Smith soft...if only momentarily. The doctor should be much easier. However, there were a few little niggling feelings that tried to break her train of thought. Thoughts of her subjugation. Her shame. Memories of how her life before she was diagnosed with melancholia. Before Mrs. Smith moved in and put her under her thumb.
The young housewife chased those thoughts away lest they bring on another fit, an in turn another session with the probe. Amazing how such a device could turn pleasure into sensation that was nearer to pain.
"You can turn the machine off Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "It appears the fit has passed." The doctor ran her fingers through the newlywed's fiery mane. Directed the woman's tongue here and there.
"Oh you are so good at this," Dr. Livingston cooed. "Your tongue feels like velvet. It makes my cunt run like honey."
The doctor enjoyed the feeling of that tongue until another orgasm held her in its grip. When it was over she held the poor young woman there on her knees. There with her face wedged firmly into her dark muff.
"Just stay right there dear," Dr. Livingston said. "Just in case you need another session of milking or another dose of tonic."
"Now where were we Mrs. Smith?" Dr. Livingston said. "Ahhh yes transportation arrangements. I just couldn't bear to have the poor dear on the streets at night in her mental state. What if she had a seizure like she just had along the way?"
"You could keep her overnight," Mrs. Smith suggested.
Cindy could hear the excitement drip from the fat cow's voice. Oh how she wanted to get her hands on CIndy's husband. Oh how Cindy wanted to kick the fat bitch out of the house...out of her house. But those crinkled old lips in front of her served as a stern reminder of what an outburst would bring.
"How would that be dear?" Dr. Livingston asked, tilting Cindy's head up by her chin. "Would you like to spend the night with me?"
"But my husband..." Cindy stammered.
"Is that a frown I see?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Mrs. Smith would you turn the knob to-"
"Oh no," Cindy quickly interjected. "Of course not. I would love to....I'm only concerned that my husband would be here alone and I'd be..."
"Oh the poor dear is terrified of sleeping alone. Do you hear that Mrs. Smith." Dr. Livingston said, addressing Mrs. Smith and ignoring the young woman kneeling obediently between her thick thighs. To Cindy: "Not to worry dear, you can sleep in bed with me. I'm afraid it's a small bed, but you'll be quite cozy. What is that dear? Is that a frown I see? I fear I'm all out of tonic? Mrs. Smith? Could you oblige?"
Mrs. Smith huffed her dismay, standing with her hands on her hips.
"If I must.." she said, pulling down her panties. Almost out of breath getting them down her wide hips. "Hurry up cow...I haven't got all day."
Cindy quickly crawled between her nemesis's's fat thighs. Oh how she hated this bitch. Yet she knew better than disobey. The woman may have been old, but she was strong as an ox. And she had a heavy hand with a switch or a belt. Worse, the woman had a mean streak a mile long.
And as Cindy quickly discovered, the woman was also already very wet. Her smell musty and dank. Not like the doctor's. She closed her eyes and dreamed of scenes of Paris she'd seen in a book she had read... and began to lick.
"You can send her to me after lunch each day," Dr. Livingston said. "And I'll send her back after breakfast the following day. I can't help but notice the bruises on her backside. What are you using? A belt? A switch?"
"Ahh....both..." Mrs. Smith answered with a lusty moan. To Cindy: "Not so hard cow. Slowly..."
"Well that isn't acceptable." Dr. Livingston said.
Of course it isn't acceptable, Cindy thought there between the hateful woman's fat legs. At last...at last the doctor had noticed what was going on here. And she was going to do something about it.
"She's deserving of it..the little cow..." Mrs. Smith argued. "And the good book tells what happens when the rod is spared."
"Be that as it may," Dr. Livingston said. "A hand or a paddle only. I don't want to see any more stripes or broken skin."
"A good strapping makes her mind her manners, but I guess I can oblige. Doctor's orders and all." Mrs. Smith said as she ran her fingers through Cindy's hair. It was almost a loving gesture, but Cindy knew better. It was only for the doctor's benefit.
"When I used to milk cows..." Mrs. Smith continued. "Every once and awhile, there'd be one that tried to kick me. I didn't need a strap to teach them the better of it."
The woman...the fat bitch hated her. Then those fingers, those big round fingers went down to her chest. Found firm nipples and pinched. Hard!
"mmmphhhh!" Cindy moaned, tears rising in her eyes, while her cries of dismay smothered by the awful woman's sex. She struggled to break free, to warn the doctor that the bitch was going to torture her anyway, even without a switch.
"Don't even think about trying me you filthy cow," Mrs. Smith whispered. "You will not take what I've earned."
Cindy heeded the warning, ceasing her struggles and despondently returning to the task at tongue.
"We are in agreement then?" Dr. Livingston said. "Good. I think I'll be able to continue her treatments for $20 per week."
"That's preposterous..." Mrs. Smith stammered. "She'll be earning her keep by cleaning and assisting."
"*If* she isn't having a fit of melancholia and that's a big if," Dr. Livingston said. "Then there's the extra food and care. Such things aren't cheap."
"That's robbery," Mrs. Smith said. "Frank will never agree."
"You are probably right..." Dr. Livingston said. "Perhaps it will be best to hire a nursemaid to take care of her here. There's a pretty little thing who assists the other doctor in town that would be glad for the work..."
"No..." Mrs. Smith said. A pretty little thing here with Frank? It was blackmail. The doctor's knowing smile said she knew it too. Blackmail or no, it would upset everything she'd worked for. She quickly caved. "It isn't necessary to go to such trouble. Besides the girl wouldn't know what to do with someone like this one here. I know what's good for her. "
"Well...." Dr. Livingston feigned indecision.
"As I was saying," Mrs. Smith continued. "It was just that the price you quoted seemed high." She did a little math in her head. She'd let her friends enjoy Cindy's tongue for free, but she was sure they'd pay. Fifty cents or a dollar? Surely. That would be at least 7.50 per week. Four from Frank and 3.50 from her. That do it quite easily.
"Fifteen dollars?" Mrs. Smith volunteered.
"Only if she's a hard worker," Dr. Livingston said. "Otherwise twenty."
"Oh she'll work hard," Mrs. Smith said. "I'll see to it."
That tongue was getting slow. Lazy. Mrs. Smith reached her fat calloused fingers underneath the housewife and gave her nips a good pinch. Then another to be sure.
Cindy's poor tongue ached. And her lips felt swollen and bruised. But those cruel fingers on her sensitive nips spurred her to action, helped her find reserves that had been hidden. Made her tired aching tongue flutter and flit as if it were fresh and new.
"Oh she'll be quite diligent." Mrs. Smith breathed. "I promise."
Three months later.
"Are you scared dear?" Dr. Livingston put a reassuring hand on the young woman's thigh and gave a squeeze.
"A bit." Cindy said. But in truth her heart hammered in her chest. She was terrified.
"This is nothing but another treatment," Dr. Livingston said. "Just you and me and the device. Nothing at all to worry about. Oh dear...now it's time. Go on. Just like we said."
Cindy stood and took the stage. Though her knees threatened to give as she took the stage, when she reached the podium, she cleared her throat and managed to find her voice.
"Hello learned doctors," Cindy said. "My name is Cindy Johnson and I ... suffer from acute melancholia. It was my husband who was first aware that something was wrong with me. To be honest I never suspected. I was taken to several specialists. I've had tonics and leaches, but nothing seemed to help. Until I was taken to Dr. Livingston. Doctor."
There was a gasp and a clearing of the throat as Dr. Livingston took the stage. Cindy always felt sorry for the woman. It was clear these men weren't expecting a woman. Were feeling like they'd been had.
"Gentlemen, yes I am a woman," Dr. Livingston said. "I was educated in France and am just as learned as the next doctor. And in this case, I think that being a woman has given me insight into the condition you refer to as melancholia."
The audience grew more rowdy. A few of the doctors were getting out of their seats and heading for the door.
"Miss Johnson...your clothing."
Cindy licked her lips. Feeling her cheeks turn a bright red as she shed her clothing while Dr. Livingston helped with some of her many buttons and ties.
"Have you noticed doctors that only bleeding seem to reduce a patients melancholia? Have you noticed that the afflicted are almost always women?
In the stirrups please Mrs. Johnson."
Dr. Livingston put on a pair of gloves and began to assemble her first probe. It was her favorite, slender with a small round bump-covered ball affixed to the end. She usually just used this one, but in this case she was going to be using quite a lot of different probes for demonstration purposes.
Cindy hated this part. Normally, this was a treat, having the doctor give her a wonderful orgasm. But not this time, not only was there an embarrassing audience gathered around to watch her shame herself, she was going to be tested as well.
It wasn't a test of the young woman's obedience, she'd proven that time and time again. She'd proven it with her tongue. With her lips. Proved it with every patient she'd treated. She didn't treat them as Dr. Livingston did. She didn't have some scientific gadget. A gadget that was marvelous, magnetic, and electric. No, she used something that was much more personal and perhaps more dexterous. She used her pink wiggly tongue.
Some women were quite happy with the doctor's treatment. But others wanted a more personal touch. Word had traveled around their small city. Word of the doctor's nurse and her special treatment.
Women. So many women. Some young and pretty. Some old and fat. But Cindy wasn't allowed to be picky. She wasn't allowed to discriminate.
It all started so innocently. They hemmed and hawed.
They would ask talk about the weather. They'd clear their throats. A rosy blush would spread over their cheeks if they were young.
"I heard there was another treatment.," they'd say.
"There is. But it's twice as much as the normal treatment," Dr. Livingston would say.
Cindy usually said a prayer. Unless the woman was pretty. More often than not, she wasn't. The young one's would usually balk.
"So much?" they'd ask. "Perhaps a discount. I've been a good patient."
"Come dear," Dr. Livingston would say. "I'll clear up that melancholia in no time. It's not severe enough for the special treatment."
Then the doctor would have them naked and moaning from the treatment. Imagining it wasn't the probe down there but the pretty nurse standing there at her side.
But not the old spinsters. The old widowers had plenty of money. What they didn't have was a pretty young thing willing to get down on her knees. Willing to endure the ultimate submission.
But money, money they had in spades.
"I want the special," they'd say and hand over their money.
"Get to it girl. On your knees. It isn't going to milk itself you know." Dr. Livingston would say.
"Yes ma'am," and Cindy would go down on her knees and give the patient her special treatment.
And Cindy would rather not do that disgusting duty. Would rather not feel those old bony fingers run through her hair, cooing..such a good nurse...such a sweet tongue. At least they were nice. Not like that bitch. Besides it was treatment for Cindy, just as much as they did.
She needed the tonic.
And it did seem to make her feel better. Tingly. It even made her forget for a time that the cruel bitch Eustice Smith had taken her husband from her. Had stolen him.
Thank God the tingling had returned. Cindy's nipples had hardened into tiny knots of desire. Her sex contracted with the gentle buzz of the doctor's probe. Cindy stole a glimpse at the audience of men staring at her. So hungry. Licking their lips. Dear Lord, just like all those old beady-eyed women.
A gasp escaped the young woman's lips at the thought.
Dr. Livingston smiled as Cindy's body began to react to her ministrations. She watched the young woman battle valiantly against her body's reactions. Watched the way Cindy tried to keep the serene smile plastered across her face. The doctor turned her probe up to four and danced it across the young woman's erect clit. Around and around the stalky appendage.
Cindy moaned deep in her throat. Her thighs tensed. The mouth of her sex contracted. It was all she could do to keep her feet in the stirrups. Her concentration so great the smile disappeared. She bit her lower lip.
"You're doing fine Miss Johnson" Dr. Livingston assured the young woman. "I'm just going to change probes now."
Cindy cringed as she recognized the probe the doctor attached to the wire. It was round, but thicker. There was spring at the end. Oh God. Not that!
Dr. Livingston smiled back into those blue begging eyes. She licked her lips. She knew what was going on in that pretty little head even as she inserted the new probe and released the catch.
That was Dr. Livingston's nickname for it. Once released, the spring attempted to force the two sides of the inserted probe apart. Only Cindy's muscle's held them together. But tension from the spring was rapidly tiring those muscles. And as the probe went in and out, those muscles began to tire.
Then the shock came.
And those muscles tightened again, whether they wanted to or not.
On and on it went. Tightening....loosening....loosening...tightening. And Cindy could feel other changes as well. Her chest becoming flushed. Her nipples hard ...almost painfully so. And her cunt. Tightening...loosening...until finally other muscles stepped into the fray. Muscles inside her loins that toned and tightened, yet instead of locking down on the intruder, they held her hole open. And though she was open, she felt so tight inside. So uncomfortably tight. And she felt that certain feeling...like she desperately needed to pee. Yet she had just peed. And she was moaning...grunting...groaning...and no matter what she did, her face was determined to grimace. Then she felt the warming. The lightning begin to dance.
No. Oh God no!
"I will remove the probe now," Dr. Livingston said. "So there can be no tricks. The patient's melancholia gland had been thoroughly stimulated. And now..."
With that the doctor danced a finger over Cindy's engorged clit.
Unghhh! Cindy moaned and her legs pumped into the air. And then she gushed. Like a geyser releasing it's load onto the wooden stage.
Then the doctor rubbed Cindy's clit vigorously, shooting load after load of girl nectar on the stage, till finally she was emptied. It was hard going for Cindy. Yes, it was pleasure, but it was almost too much pleasure for her small slim body. It made her buck and writhe. Her legs alternately closing and opening to try to end the vigorous stimulation. Until finally...finally ... it was over.
"I have sufficiently stimulated her melancholia and removed the bad humours doctors," Dr. Livingston said as she handed Cindy a small gown.
"Notice how calm she is?" Dr. Livingston asked the quiet auditorium. "See how all the worry has left the patient's eyes. To Cindy: "How do you feel dear?"
"Very good doctor...." Cindy's mind wandered back to the day Dr. Livingston told her she didn't need to go back to Mrs. Smith...that she could live with her permanently. And her precious lips turned up into a smile and her eyes beamed with pleasure. "Like a million bucks."
"A million bucks doctors," Dr. Livingston said. "Who here can afford not to have such a treatment? Who here won't have this miraculous device if another doctor in town has one? Nine hundred dollars. It pays for itself in no time at all."
No one budged. The first time Dr. Livingston wondered if she had miscalculated, but she knew what was going on in their little doctor heads now. They were waiting till after...perhaps the other doctors wouldn't get the device and then they could inquire about it later. Get a reduced price.
Well, now she had their number.
"There is only a limited quantity," Dr. Livingston finished.
And then the rush was on. Even old doctors with canes rushed to the front, beating out their younger nimbler rivals. At the end of the day Dr. Livingston was thirty five thousand dollars richer. And though business eventually was not as lucrative, as others learned to make her devices much cheaper. She still became quite rich...and Cindy enjoyed these riches too.
And those women who could afford it...or had husbands who could afford it, gained pleasure from Dr. Livingston's new cure for melancholia.