and exposed for his eyes, his hands, his instruments. The ultimate submissive offering.
Holding her skin taut, he slid the razor up each inner thigh, angling each stroke in to the centre point of her sex. He carefully trimmed away everything that might obscure his view. Nothing must remain but her perfect mound, silky and smooth.
It was over far too quickly, both for him and for Justine, whose breathing had grown fast and shallow. Once, she had lifted her head to peer down at what he was doing, then blushed and looked away, clasping her hands at her breast. With all the hair removed he could easily see the reason for her embarrassment: she was exceedingly wet. It was all he could do not to dip his finger inside. Instead he made do with towelling her dry and dabbing at her in such a way as to produce more of those charming little gasps and sighs.
‘There,’ he said triumphantly. ‘That’s much better.’
She glanced down and her mouth fell open in mute surprise as she saw herself clearly for the first time.
‘Now we can proceed.’
He pressed a button at the end of the table and the engine whirred to life, rumbling beneath it. Justine jumped a little at the vibrations and then began to smile.
‘It’s very pleasant, sir,’ she said. ‘Like riding on the train.’
He smiled at her naïveté. ‘Oh, that’s not all.’
He allowed himself a final lingering look at her before proceeding to the next step. The business end of the machine was a small device, about the size and shape of an egg, attached to a hinged metal arm. He lowered the buzzing attachment and rested it against Justine’s bare sex. She gave a little cry of surprise as the powerful vibrations began to pulse through her. No, she hadn’t been expecting that. None of them ever knew what they were in for.
Adopting his most soothing voice, he told her to relax, to submit to the device. Her face took on a familiar dreamy cast as her body realised what was happening and she sank into the pleasure. Everything was centred on that one small part of her and it quickly became her whole world.
How delightful it was to watch the play of emotions across a woman’s face the first time she felt those vibrations! Naturally, some ladies were too repressed to let go, despite his constant reassurances. There was no impropriety, he was a medical man, it was all for their own good. Sometimes none of it could break through the barrier. Such women seemed determined to suffer, to deny themselves pleasure, even in the form of alleged clinical relief.
Justine was an excellent subject. He had tricked her into it so there need be no guilt on her part. And she clearly had a sensual nature; shaving her had shown him that quite plainly. Now she was rocking her hips back and forth to get the most out of the experience. In time, he could introduce her to other devices, other pleasures. He had no doubt that she would prove a very eager pupil.
As he sensed her nearing the peak, he turned a knob to increase the speed. Her fingers clutched the edges of the table and she raised her hips, forcing her pelvis roughly against the source of the pleasure until she gave a wild cry as the wave of spasms overtook her. Then she collapsed, gasping and panting, dazed and spent.
Smiling, Frankenstein shut off the machine and tidied up while she recovered, her legs still splayed, her face flushed and blissful. When she still hadn’t moved after several minutes, he gently drew her skirt down, reluctantly concealing her charms. That seemed to wake her up. She covered her face with her hands as though trying to force her smile into hiding.
‘Well, my girl, I trust you feel suitably rewarded?’
She nodded, amazement painting her features. ‘Oh sir, I’ve never felt such … It was …’
‘I know. It cures all manner of ills. Now perhaps you understand why the treatment is so popular.’
‘I do indeed, sir. I had no idea!’
He helped her up and she stumbled a little as she tried to stand. It was another sight he relished. After soaring with euphoria, they found it a challenge to return to solid ground. Ah, such power he had! In some bygone era he would have been the village’s medicine man, the wise and mysterious enchanter to whom all the women were in thrall.
Justine gazed blankly around the room, still lost to the unfamiliar sensations. He’d awakened every nerve ending in her body, assaulting her with pleasure and now she seemed overwhelmed.
He decided to give her the evening off, even though he knew she might waste it on the butcher’s boy. In fact, Frankenstein rather hoped Ralph would see a change in his little conquest and realise that he was a poor second to whatever her master had done to her.
All in all, it had been a successful day and Frankenstein was delighted with the progress he’d made with Justine. He led her back to the hallway and smiled as she made her unsteady way upstairs.
His eye fell on the salver and he pocketed the calling cards, doubly pleased that his list of patients was growing. Some gossipy lady must have put the word out. At this rate he would have the most successful practice in all of London. Not that any of that mattered to him; it was the money the practice brought in that was important. By the end of the month he should have enough to buy a crucial piece of equipment for the rooftop laboratory. Then he could bury himself in his real work. His life’s work.
Chapter Three
A Curious Visitor
‘Sir? There’s a gentleman here to see you.’
Frankenstein looked up from his desk, frowning. He didn’t like being disturbed when he was working and Justine would never have dreamt of it if the man hadn’t been so persuasive. She opened her mouth to explain but the visitor brushed past her and strode breezily into the room. To her surprise, her master’s face broke into a broad smile.
‘Pretorius,’ he exclaimed. ‘How delightful! I never thought to see you again, old friend!’
The visitor had introduced himself to Justine at the door as Doctor Pretorius, so she assumed he worked at the hospital. He was a handsome man with a soft, mellifluous voice and a pleasant demeanour and he wore a coat of extravagant purple velvet. Indeed, he had quite charmed his way into the house, despite Justine’s insistence that her master did not like to be disturbed.
‘My dear girl,’ he’d said, ‘I can assure you he’ll want to see me.’
And so she’d smiled sheepishly and let him in, hoping he was right and that Frankenstein wouldn’t tell her off for interrupting him. It was the only time he was ever cross with her. He spent hours up in his rooftop laboratory working with strange contraptions that she assumed he must intend for use in his practice and he got so consumed by his work that sometimes he even forgot to eat. She’d made the mistake of disturbing him one time when he was up there and he’d smashed a glass bottle on the floor and shouted at her to get out. Afterwards, he had brought her a little cake to make amends but she’d never dared to enter the laboratory again. Tonight, however, he was in his downstairs study. If Pretorius had wanted her to bother her master in the laboratory she’d have certainly stood her ground.
Pretorius set his case down on the floor and the two men shook hands warmly. There was clearly nothing more for her to do here, so she bobbed an awkward curtsey which neither man noticed and slipped quietly out of the room, closing the door behind her.
She listened at the keyhole for a few moments but they were drinking brandy and reminiscing about old times, nothing of interest to her. Apparently they had known one another at medical school and she gathered from the conversation that Pretorius was an expert on something called ‘nymphomania’. He said that his practice had been successful enough to allow him to retire early and devote himself entirely to research. Then there was a lot of technical talk that Justine couldn’t follow. She soon grew bored with eavesdropping and wandered off to the kitchen, where it was warm.
Her legs still ached from her exertions the other day, when her master had shown her the Alleviator.