Page 5 of Doctor Hardy and the Hysteria Machine (The Doctor’s Pleasure #1)

Chapter Four

W ith a quiet knock, Agnes reentered the room carrying a tray of crystal vials. Doctor Hardy selected a small one filled with amber liquid and dismissed her with a nod.

He uncorked the bottle and brought it under his nose.

“Almond and bergamot,” he breathed in as the lovely scent wafted out between them. “I think you've had enough of roses for the time being, no?”

Beatrice smiled sheepishly, touched by the doctor’s kind consideration.

“Shall we begin?”

He reached under the examination couch and pulled up a pair of wooden leg rests. Beatrice hadn’t noticed them there before, and eyed nervously at the attached leather straps.

“We won't be using the straps today,” he promised, hiking up the white sheet to her thighs. “Your symptoms, as they were, were not particularly serious. Here, spread and raise your legs. Precisely like that.”

Beatrice rested her weight against the couch cushions as the doctor maneuvered her legs into position. She found the leg rests moved smoothly and independently of each other.

It was utterly indecent to have a man handle her naked, shapely ankles like this, not to mention—her heart quickened at the thought—where he was about to touch her next.

At the doctor’s soft urging, she found herself weak-kneed with longing. And when he ran his hand along her bare legs, a flush of desire warmed her through and through.

“Breathe,” he encouraged, stroking her knee in soothing circles. “Now, if at any time you find yourself overwhelmed, simply say the word and we will stop the treatment.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Beatrice resolved to be strong. She must get her nerves under control for Eric, of course, but now there was a selfish reason too. She had only just met Doctor Hardy, but something about the man’s commanding and magnetic presence made her longing to impress him.

The forbidden desire made her clench her thighs together and sent a delicious shiver up her spine.

“Let us begin with an internal examination,” he said, nudging her raised legs apart further until he could fit one hand between them.

Without her stockings and bloomers, Beatrice could feel the warmth of his fingers travel towards her core. Slowly and gently, he parted her legs and massaged his way up the soft, untouched skin of her inner thigh.

“Very good, Beatrice,” he murmured, leaning close to examine that most intimate, virginal part of her body. His measured breathing turned heavy— or was it only her imagination? —as he pushed aside the brown curls of her womanhood to reveal perfect, soft lips.

Heady pleasure rushed through her as a strand of the doctor’s hair fell forward to brush against her skin. It was intimate beyond words, having his ruggedly handsome face between her legs, inches away from her core. She could feel his every breath upon her sensitive wetness.

She could tell she was already soaked .

Utterly drenched with wanton needs, her body begged for the doctor to take her in hand. She spread her legs a little wider still, earning her effusive praise.

“That is perfect , Beatrice,” he said, his voice dark and gravelly, and she felt hot with pride.

Finally, with one skilled finger, the doctor touched her tight opening. She gasped at the contact before biting down on her lower lip at the embarrassing reaction.

“None of that,” he chided with all the kindness in the world. “Don’t hold it back. Your voice is a part of your perfect body, and you must let it feel and do what it will.”

“ Oh! Doctor!” When he touched her nether lips again, she let out a throaty cry.

“Good girl.” He said, and she was lost.

Through pleasure-hooded eyes, she watched the man work between her legs. Without breaking their gaze—lest she wanted him to stop—he parted his lips and extended his tongue.

Then he licked her.

“Oh, Heavens .” She could hardly recognize the keening moan that came out of her throat.

The doctor was thoughtful as he retracted his tongue and pulled his lower lip between his teeth. He was oblivious to the indecency of the act. Then, meeting her questioning gaze, he explained, “This is a working theory of mine. An experienced doctor can determine the progression of hysteria by the patient’s taste.”

“It was… I felt…” Beatrice panted and found she did not possess the vocabulary to describe the sensation.

“Have you never received oral pleasure?”

“No, Doctor. I—I am still a maiden.”

“Well! That is neither here nor there.”

“I meant to say… I was taught it is every woman’s duty to protect her virtue until marriage, and then to be available for her husband’s needs.”

Doctor Hardy sighed. “What of her own needs?”

Beatrice swallowed and held her tongue. The concept, to her, was a foreign language spoken in a distant land.

“Your body responded beautifully to my touch. Did you take pleasure in my tongue?”

“I—yes.” She admitted in a small voice, her cheeks burning.

“Very good,” he praised. “You are already making great progress. Now, I want you to surrender all that puritanical learning when I touch you. In fact, try not to think at all—simply let yourself feel me. Let your body be your guide.”

Doctor Hardy emptied the crystal vial’s fragrant content into his palm and rubbed his hands together to warm it up.

“I want to hear you, Lady Beatrice. If you dislike something, you must try to voice it. Likewise, if something feels good, I need to know as well.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Good girl. Now, open up for me.”