Lucy and the Doctors

by Ava Sinclair

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, a tear slipping from her eye to trace its way down her fair cheek. “I can’t help it.”

  “Can you tell us what precipitates the… need for this?” he asked.

  She looked from one man to the other. “Oh, I fear if I do tell you then you will most definitely send me away. Must I continue? I’m tired. I need to nap.” She felt a surge of panic now.

  What have I done?

  “Lucy.” Dr. Crane knelt down and clasped her hands. “You must answer. Please. I know you’re embarrassed and afraid, but trust me when I tell you that our questions are for your own good. Answer Dr. Allard, little one. What desires have you that are so strong you must do this so often?”

  She closed her eyes, not wanting to look at either man when she answered. “My desire for the two of you,” she said in a rush. “My thoughts of you.”

  “When did they start?” Dr. Crane asked.

  “After… after the day you and Dr. Allard examined me,” came the soft reply. “And spanked me.”

  “And what is it you think on when you touch yourself, Lucy?”

  She flushed before forcing herself to answer. “I think about how helpless I felt over your lap.” She looked shyly up at Thomas. “And how you touched my breasts, how good it felt. And how you touched me between my legs. It was like my body had been sleeping and you woke it, woke a hunger in it. Oh, the sensations—even the painful burning of my bottom from the spanking and the shot. I think on them as well.” She paused, closing her eyes. “I tried to ignore the feelings. I do not know what a woman is supposed to feel. You have both told me I would one day crave a husband’s touch, but I know in my heart I can only crave a man who touches me the way the two of you do. And I don’t think…” She faltered now, twisting her little hands in the coverlet.

  “Go on,” Benedict Crane said gently.

  “I don’t think any man could ever make me want him the way I want you.” She turned desperate now in tone, speaking hurriedly. “I’ve tried to be good. I’ve tried to think of another man—some faceless man to call husband, touching me. But each time it is your faces I see.” She turned again to Thomas. “Your serious one, always so concerned, and thoughtful.” Then to Benedict: “And yours, always with that kind, playful smile.”

  The room fell quiet. Lucy had bared her heart completely, and she felt she had nothing to lose by continuing. “Mrs. Priven said there is one man for one woman, and told me the day I left that God was delivering me to that man, and that he would teach me all I needed to know about what it means to be a woman. It turned out that man was a monster who tried to hurt me. I still am none the wiser. I am still ignorant of what goes on between a man and a woman. I only know that whatever it is, I want it to be with someone I love.” She looked from one guardian to the other with earnest eyes. “The only thing I do know is that I love both of you.”

  “Oh, Lucy…” Thomas began. “You don’t know what…”

  “…what I’m saying? But I do!” She felt herself becoming agitated. “I live as a child under your good graces. But I am a woman still. I realize this. A woman living as a child. The child in me loves you as my father figures. The woman in me loves you as something deeper.” Her voice became ragged with sobs now. “Is it really so wrong to want both?” She was sobbing hysterically now. “I want to sleep. I cannot bear this!”

  Dr. Crane moved to the bed and pulled her into his arms. “Sssh…” he said, and Lucy allowed herself to be nestled in his arms as he nodded wordlessly to Dr. Allard, who left the room. When he returned a few moments later, it was with a syringe. This time Lucy did not fight as her handsome blond guardian lifted her dress. She did whimper as the panels of her pantalets were parted to reveal the perfect globes of her bottom. When the pinch of the needle came, she cried out from both pain and pleasure, eager to accept the care of the men who held and towered over her. How could she get them to understand that she craved the helpless feeling of being their little one? How could she explain it when she didn’t entirely understand it herself?

  She was feeling languid now, and nestled into Dr. Crane’s arms. As she began to drift off, Dr. Allard sat down and wrapped his arm around her as well. She felt complete happiness then, even though she didn’t know how long it would last.

  * * *

  It was just a light sedative—enough for a very short sleep. Both men sat with her while she slumbered. She was just beginning to stir a little when Benedict stood, gently removing his gentle grasp and laying their charge on the bed as Thomas fetched a quilt from the chest at the foot to cover her. They were silent as they moved downstairs to the parlor, where Benedict poured them a drink—a rare indulgence on a weekday evening—before the two men sat down facing one another.

  “I’ve never felt so inept in my life,” Thomas said miserably. “How could we have been so wrong about this young woman?”

  “I agree,” Benedict said. “Things certainly aren’t as they seem. We underestimated her maturity. And her passion.”

  “Indeed we did,” Dr. Allard said fretfully. “How ironic is it that we were told Lucy suffered from nymphomania, ruled it out upon examination, and now find that she is afflicted after all.”

  Dr. Crane was about to take a sip of his drink. Now he looked at his friend with a shocked expression. “What? You think she’s a nymphomaniac?”

  Dr. Allard stared at him. “Well… of course. And you obviously see it as well. You yourself just said we underestimated her passion.”

  “You misunderstand me!” Benedict put down his drink and faced his friend. “I’m not agreeing that Lucy suffers from nymphomania, Thomas. I’m disputing it!”

  “Disputing it?” Thomas shook his head in bewilderment. “Did you not hear her? She touches herself daily. Sometimes more than once!”

  “And why, Thom?” his friend shot back. “For want of a feeling we introduced her to! Don’t you see? We sparked her passion! We did this to her! And every night she burns with need for what we awakened, and has discovered that touching herself is the only way to relieve the ache! Is it really fair to call that a sickness? What man would not want a woman to yearn for his touch? Isn’t that kind of passion what we have sought to instill in frigid women?”

  Dr. Allard rubbed his chin nervously as he rose from his chair and began to pace. “But all the studies so far on nymphomania. She has all the signs of all that’s written…”

  “But remember, it’s all been written by men, Thomas.”

  Dr. Allard stopped and eyed his friend. “What are you saying? That there is no such thing?”

  “No. I’m not saying that,” Benedict replied. “Excessive desire can be a disorder. But have you ever noticed that physicians—ourselves included—only seem to see excessive passion as a female ailment?”

  “Oh, Ben…” Thomas scoffed, but his friend continued.

  “No, think on it!” Benedict pressed. “Neither of us are virgins, and in our younger years we were quite randy! How do you think you’d have perceived a woman with an appetite that matched your own?”

  “That’s different!” Thomas said, but his tone was defensive and he knew it. “Women are…”

  “What?” Dr. Crane arched an elegant eyebrow and then sighed. “They are people of passion, too. I’ve seen it time and time again. If anything kills passion in a woman it is being scolded for it. How many tinctures and boluses have we given to urge a patient’s passion beyond the convention that restrains them?

  “And here’s our Lucy. Our sweet, innocent, honest Lucy. She knows nothing of what a man and a woman do, so sheltered has she been. She only knows that the skilled touch of men she cares for feeds a hunger she never knew existed. She’s unspoiled, Thom. She’s entirely unspoiled, and that has made her the best subject on nymphomania. For in her honesty, I believe she’s showing us what we’re getting wrong about it, at least where females are concerned.”

  Thomas was quiet for a moment. “Perhaps you are right, Ben. In fact, I’d say you are probably
right. But we both know that we can’t publish such a paper. We’d be accused of sanctioning women in following their desires. It’s an idea ahead of its time.”

  “Sod the damned study,” his friend said. “At this moment I’m more concerned about Lucy. She needs relief, Thomas. She spoke the truth earlier. While we keep her as a child, she is still a woman. We have unlocked her woman’s needs, even if that was not our intention.”

  “Yes. You’re right.” Thomas nodded. “I have a tonic we could give her. It would dull her senses…”

  “Dull her senses?” Benedict all but leapt from his chair, anger in his voice. “Are you really suggesting that we cool her natural passions by unnatural means when it was our touch that awakened them? Are we to punish her anew by teaching her that her feelings are a source of shame, and expect her to go on to function as a healthy partner to her husband?”

  Thomas’ tone was exasperated when he replied. “What choice do we have, Benedict? These feelings won’t subside otherwise! How can we keep her here without relief? Do not criticize me without offering other options.”

  “I do have another option, Thomas.” Benedict grew quiet for a moment as his friend looked at him questioningly. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Marriage to one who has awakened that passion.”

  “Marriage?” Thomas choked out the word. He swirled the ice in his glass as he gazed around the room thoughtfully. “I’d not even thought of taking a wife, but perhaps it’s time…”

  “No, not to you, Thomas. But to me.”

  “To you?” Thomas looked in shock at his friend. “No, Benedict. It was I who decided to start this research project. It is my fault that Lucy came here from St. Bart’s. I should be the one…”

  “It hardly matters,” Benedict interrupted. “We both went to retrieve her. We have both touched her. We have both awakened her. I was the one who proposed the idea of marriage. I should be the one to marry Lucy. We’ll end the study first, of course. It would most certainly violate ethics for me to marry a subject we were both working with.”

  “No!” Thomas repeated. “I won’t stand for it!”

  “And why not?” Benedict pressed. “Because for all your talk of objectivity you’re as smitten as I am with her? At least I’m honest enough to stand here and admit that I’ve fallen in love with the girl. Yes, Thomas. I’m in love with our little Lucy Priven, and I want her to have her wish to remain here.”

  “You’re quite some friend,” Thomas said quietly. “Has it occurred to you that I feel the same, only I’ve been more careful to balance my affections for Lucy with my professional responsibilities?” His voice was pained as he spoke. “And for that you offer me a life of seeing her married to my best friend? If you think seeing her joined in marriage to any man—even a dear friend—will diminish my love for her, then you have sorely misjudged me, Ben. Besides, what of her? She hasn’t even been asked.”

  Benedict sighed and ran his hand through his dark hair. “I’m sorry, Thom. Of course you are right. It is wrong for me to just announce my intentions. It’s wrong to you, and it’s wrong to Lucy. We should give her the chance to choose between us, and the one she chooses will have to set up house somewhere else with her, to at least diminish the pain of loss to the other. But she will have to choose.”

  From across the room a noise got their attention and both men turned, wondering at the same moment how long Lucy had been standing there listening. She’d changed from her dress into her shift, and her hair was unbound and flowing about her shoulders.

  “Lucy,” Benedict said. “How long have you been in the doorway?”

  “Long enough to hear what you said,” she replied. “And long enough for me to make the choice you say must be made.”

  Stepping into the room, she walked to the front of the fireplace and turned around to face them.

  “You have told me that as your legal ward, you have custody of me, and that I can live with you as long as I wish. I do not desire to be the woman you would marry, but rather to remain the woman you would keep forever as your little Lucy. It is what makes me happiest, being kept as a child. But I know that I am also a woman, and now I know that you have awakened in me a woman’s needs. Please don’t force me to deny them any longer.”

  Then, as the men watched in rapt attention, in one graceful, perfect movement, Lucy slipped the shift down and off. She was naked underneath, and her body all but glowed in the firelight.

  “I choose both of you,” she said with bold candor. “And think of me what you will, but I cannot wait another moment for you to take me as your own.”

  Chapter Nine: Claiming Lucy

  “Oh, Lucy… you can’t…” Even though he was objecting, the need was apparent in Dr. Allard’s voice. Beside him, her other guardian stood staring, his gaze intense but unreadable.

  “And why not?” she asked, spreading her hands out as if in supplication. “You’ve already seen me. You’ve already touched me. I’m already yours! To send me away will be to condemn me to a life of unhappiness—to condemn all of us to a life of unhappiness. Or are you to both now deny the truth I heard you speak, which is that you love and desire me as much as I love and desire you?”

  Thomas walked over to Lucy, and when he reached her his gaze swept down her body to fall on the shift pooled at her feet. For a moment she expected him to pull it back up over her, but what he did completely surprised her.

  She’d not expected the kiss he gave her, his lips gentle on hers as he cupped her face between his large hands. Lucy had never seen him smoke a pipe, but could taste the hint of cherry tobacco combined with the smoky bitterness of the Scotch he’d been drinking. She moaned against his mouth, and her moan deepened when Dr. Crane suddenly appeared behind her, moved the curtain of hair gently over her shoulder, and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck.

  A moment later, all three fell silent as the two doctors faced one another over the top of her fair head. Lucy said nothing as they spoke.

  “She’s right, Ben. In the eyes of the law, she’s already ours. We have custody, transferred to us by Dr. Litman at St. Bart’s. Under the law her age isn’t a factor. She’ll remain in our custody until we end or transfer it. She loves us. And we love her.”

  Dr. Crane nodded. “We’ve shared so much as it is—a home, our fortunes, research, our careers. It’s all mingled.” He looked down at Lucy. “Why not share her? Should something happen to one of us, she’ll always have the other. We’ve always been private. No one needs to know.”

  “And no one will,” Dr. Allard said quietly. “And it’s not because we’re ashamed, Lucy, only because it would certainly raise questions of decorum.”

  She nodded. “I understand. But it is no business but our own. Our love is a private thing.” Lucy turned as she spoke to look up at Benedict, who tipped up her chin to offer her his first kiss as well. This one was different, his tongue parting her lips to probe hers as Thomas’ hands moved around to cover and massage her breasts, bringing her nipples to hard, aching peaks under his palms.

  She could feel the throbbing start anew in her pussy, stronger than ever, as wetness trickled down the inside of her thighs. Something hard was pressing against her bottom, and she had a fleeting memory of Judge Bonham’s soft, pudgy lump pushing against her, and instinctively knew that what she felt now was the healthy reaction of an aroused man. She pushed back, her sensitive buttocks seeming to increase the hardness nudging against them. And there was another sensation now as Benedict’s hands slipped around to part the cleft of her pussy, his fingers sliding up the slick folds of skin to finally touch the spot that ached the most—the spot she’d discovered with her own fingers not long after relentless memories of the exam led her to ease her own growing sexual tension. His expert manipulation of that little bud of desire quickly had Lucy crying out as her body shuddered violently with the most exquisite sensation she’d ever known. Both men were pressing against her now, as they took turns plundering her mouth with their tongues. Hands ro
amed her body, leaving a trail of heated pleasure in their wake.

  “Lucy…” Benedict’s voice seemed to come to her as if in a dream. “Do you know what it is to be taken by a man?”

  “No,” she said. “Not entirely. I only know I want more of you…” she pushed her hips against him, not caring whether it made her seem wanton, “…more of this.”

  Thomas stepped away now and Benedict, still standing behind her, wrapped his arms around Lucy as she watched her tall, dark-haired guardian remove his vest and shirt in the firelight of the study. His upper body was well muscled, his torso lean. He removed his shoes and then his pants. There was a nest of sandy-colored hair at the apex of his long, muscular legs, and from it sprung a fleshy probe that bent upward toward his belly. The head of it was flared, with a slit from which oozed a pearlescent drop of liquid. For some reason, the sight of it caused Lucy’s pussy to clench.

  “That is a cock, Lucy,” Thomas was saying, and the heat of his breath on her ear made her moan. “It is what a man puts inside a woman, and we will both put ours in you, in your pussy. And later, as you become more experienced in the ways of sex, even in your sweet mouth and your bottom.”

  She flushed with pleasure at this carnal disclosure. To think they would use her so!

  “Will it hurt?” she asked.

  “Only a bit, for you do have the barrier of virginity to be yet dispensed with. But heightened arousal will lessen the discomfort, and between the two of us… well, sweet Lucy, I don’t think working your body to a fever pitch will be too difficult.”

  Benedict stepped back now and began to undress as Lucy watched with bold, childlike innocence mixed with a woman’s excitement. She observed and noted the differences. Benedict was taller, and slightly paler. Where Thomas had a sprinkling of downy hair across his chest, Benedict’s chest was smooth. Only a line of hair ran from his navel to the top of the pants that he was now shucking off.