[Disclaimer: Early medicine’s diagnosis and treatment of female hysteria was utterly ridiculous and the product of a very wide array of misunderstandings, misconceptions, ignorance, and stupidity. In addition, the treatment of hysteria by medically induced orgasms has been widely disputed.
Even if some of those accounts are true, the fact that the importance of marital sex had disintegrated to the point that medically induced orgasms were even considered, let alone carried out, is an atrocity.
This is just a story that depicts what might have happened with a couple dedicated to The Lord and each other as they overcame confusion, social failures of the time, and false teachings to learn about and enjoy God’s plan for marital sex. This in no way either condones or accepts as normal the diagnosis or supposed early treatment.]
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She came through the door looking somewhat bashful, but definitely more relaxed. He rushed to her with concern in his heart and a question on his lips, but she quickly pecked him on his cheek and rushed past him to the stairs.
He was a bit dumbfounded, but silently followed her up the stairs to her room. His perplexity did not dissipate when he tried the door and found it locked. She didn’t respond to his call, and after a few minutes, although troubled, he let her be.
Inside, she was a mixture of physical sensations and confused emotions. She sat with her face in her hands, both content and ashamed. The doctor had called it Hysteria and offered a treatment, which, out of fear and worry for her health, she had accepted.
Although apprehensive, she had never before experienced such a rush or intensity of physical pleasure, nor did she know it was even possible. It was where and how the pleasure came that had her troubled. Her quim was a secret place for her husband’s seed, and only when they were trying to bear a child. At least, that’s what her mother had told her.
Prudish at best and cold at worst, her mother had never mentioned that it could be the origin of such delight. As she thought again of what the nurse had called an orgasm, her thighs involuntarily squeezed together and she felt again the tiny rush that had grown into an inferno of decadent flame.
Still swirling in a mix of emotions, she stood and looked at herself in the full length mirror. Her hands moved along her torso up to her breasts, then down again. Her quim twinged, but her clothing dulled the sensation, so taking a brazen step, she quickly stripped.
She rarely studied herself, even in the bath. But the reflection in the mirror revealed a woman, and for the first time in her memory, she liked what she saw. She cupped her breasts again, and the feeling of naked skin under her fingers made her tremble. Emboldened, she made circles around her nipples and she was unable to withhold the moan that escaped her lips.
Invigorated by the sensations, she let her hands slide down over her smooth, soft belly to the soft curls between her legs. She was torn between the morality of her actions and the indescribable need for something more. Desire won, and when one of her fingers reached the center of her womanhood, she felt the soft wetness of her core for the first time.
A pleasurable laugh escaped her lips, and she continued to explore. It felt so naughty, but so good. When her wandering finger touched a hard little nub at the top of her quim, she shivered and nearly buckled to the floor.
There was no stopping now. Burning with the fire of a thousand candles, she rubbed that little protrusion harder and faster. Her body moved of its own accord and the same feeling that had crept over her at the doctors office built up again until the pleasure peaked.
Her legs shook, her thighs squeezed together, she doubled over, her knees buckled, and this time she did drop to the floor. Out of breath, her chest rose and fell as she lay in a heap of bliss.
“Orgasm,” she thought. “How wonderful.”
Downstairs, Stephan heard a muffled cry and a small thump. Alarmed, he ran up the stairs and stood again at her door.
“Becca! Becca! Are you okay?”
Through a rhapsodic haze, she heard Stephan’s insistent knocking and the concern in his voice. He really was a good man, she loved him, and a part of her wanted to tear open the door and beg him to take her right there. But her joy and desire dissipated as her mother’s stern face appeared in her mind and she was filled with shame.
Panicking, she called out, “It’s okay Stephan, I just slipped and fell.”
“Let me in Becca, I need to be sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine darling! I’ll be down in a minute.”
The lie burned her soul, but she couldn’t bear to tell him what she had just done.
“Oh God, give me strength.” she whispered in a silent plea for her Savior to intervene.
When she heard Stephan walk away from her door, she dressed quickly, tried to compose herself, hide what she had to admit was a different glow, and made her way downstairs.
Stephan rose at her arrival, and ran to his wife. His concern overtook him and unable to stop himself, he embraced her in his arms.
“My love, I’ve been so worried.”
The strength of his embrace and the feel of his body against hers did nothing to quell the fire still smoldering within her, and she fought against confessing it all.
Instead, she brought her hands to his face and, quite uncharacteristically, kissed his lips. The shock was apparent on his face, but he didn’t seem at all repelled.
She gave him a quick smile, and thinking on her feet, asked, “Do you mind if I spend the afternoon at the library?”
He nodded his assent, but Stephan was indeed stunned—not only by the kiss, but by faint scent that had wafted to his nostrils when she touched his cheek. His tagder noticed too, and though his mind was slightly confused, his entire body had awakened with need.
He watched his wife disappear out of the door, gave her a little time, then bolted to the barn. He had never saddled his horse so quickly, but he was driven by a fire that had to be quenched.
There was only one place to go. The two mile ride to his secret spot was covered in mere minutes, and upon arrival, he dismounted and ran towards the small natural pool. He gave little thought to the beauty surrounding him as he scattered his clothes upon the clover and dove into the cool water.
Breaking the surface, he wasted no time. The kiss from just before and the faint scent left by the touch of her fingers was the only thing on his mind. His swollen tadger filled his grasp, and he closed his eyes.
The white cream swirled in the gentle waves of the pool as Stephan breathed heavily. Spilling his seed gave him relief, but it was always followed by a twinge of guilt. And this time, it was followed by a question: “Does Becca touch herself too?”
They had only been intimate to consummate their marriage, but the feeling of being encased in her velvet warmth had fed his thoughts, fueled his desire, and led him to this spot more than once.
The wonder of why that scent would have been on her fingers drove him mad and he began to stroke himself again.
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Becca knew is was fortuitous to have such a library close to home. It was not her first visit, but today, she had a different agenda. She didn’t even know what she was looking for, but she hoped to find something to guide her. She whispered a silent prayer as she walked through the door to begin her search.
Becca’s initial enthusiasm had faded after an hour perusing the aisles. Dejected but determined, she moved to the large cabinet of drawers containing the card catalog. She still didn’t know what she was looking for, but when her fingers turned over the name Chaucer, she paused as a vague memory tried to materialize.
Still unsure why, she found herself with a copy of his work in her hands. As she flipped through the pages and began to read, her memory returned in full.
The bawdy work had only been mentioned in passing when she was studying literature, but the heat it now stirred between her legs was unmistakable.
She quickly closed the book and put it back in its place. There was no way a woman of good standing could ever check it out.
But maybe she could come back tomorrow…
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