Lucy and the Doctors (12 page)

The men were so very different, and both awakened different parts of her sexuality. Thomas was the scientist who studied her, taking pains to explore her body and discover new ways of bringing her pleasure. Benedict was the passionate paramour, overwhelming her with hard passionate thrusts as he suckled the aching peaks of her breasts.

It was also Benedict who’d taught Lucy that not all spankings must hurt. They’d been together one evening when a cheeky remark from Lucy had ended up with her being thrown over Benedict’s lap. He’d given her two hard spanks, each with enough force to bring tears to her eyes. But in the wake of the blows, he’d begun to gently rub her upturned nates and then alternate the rubbing motion with slow, stinging slaps. Lucy had found herself becoming excited as she remembered her initial days masturbating to the first spanking she’d received from one of her guardians. But that spanking had been intended to correct her, where this one was clearly intended to excite.

And excited she had been. Even as her bottom heated painfully, her pussy throbbed with a desire only Benedict’s cock could satisfy. Moments later, as she grasped the headboard, the handsome doctor thrust into her from behind, his lean hips slamming into her hot pink bottom as she cried out her passion.

“Your playmate is a very naughty, naughty girl,” she giggled at the doll she now held in her hands, but Lucy didn’t have the heart to tell Dorothy that she was tiring of their tea party and looking forward to playing with her guardians.

When she heard footfalls on the stairs, she ran to the door. But it was only the housekeeper who came for several hours a day to tidy things up.

“Oh,” she said. “I thought you were Dr. Crane.”

“No.” The woman moved past Lucy and walked to the grate, where she checked the fire before turning back. “I believe they have had a late patient arrive. Your guardians are in much demand among the womenfolk of north London.” She chuckled. “You shall have to share, my dear.”

Lucy frowned at this, but only because it was true. But the housekeeper was right. Drs. Allard and Crane had helped her so much. She could not be jealous that they helped others as well. She was about to make that gracious observation when the housekeeper started again.

“You’re a lucky duck, being in out of this weather. It’s bitter cold out there. My hands were nearly frozen by the time I got in this morning, and no thanks to that rude man who blocked my way to ask me all those questions.”

“Questions?” Lucy asked. “What questions?”

“Oh, about how many adults lived in this house, how many children, that sort of thing. He said he was some sort of census taker.”

Lucy felt an uneasy feeling move through her. “What did he look like, this census taker?”

“Were he not so pleasant, perhaps I’d not have tarried so long answering his questions,” the housekeeper replied, and then guffawed. “Tis not every day a woman the likes of me gets to speak to so fine a man.”

An image came to Lucy’s mind. The man who’d fetched her from the Privens had been of unusually pleasant appearance, with dark wavy hair and keen brown eyes.

“What did he look like?” she asked. “What color were his eyes?”

“What color were his eyes?” The housekeeper laughed as she repeated Lucy’s question back to her. “As if I’d notice that with the wind blowing in my face. Besides, looking that directly at a man is too bold, even for me. And certainly not advisable for a little lady like yourself.”

With a flick of the feather duster, she was off then, leaving Lucy alone with her discomfort. When her guardians did show up later, Lucy was no longer in an amorous mood.

Over dinner, she picked at her food, catching Thomas’ notice. “Are you unwell, Lucy? You’ve barely touched your duck or your potatoes.”

Lucy moved her food around the plate with her fork before answering. “You don’t think he’ll come after me, do you?”

“Who? Dr. Litman?”

“No,” she said. “Judge Bonham.”

“It’s been weeks now, Lucy,” Benedict said. “Bonham annulled his marriage and made you a ward of St. Bart’s asylum. No doubt he expected you to die there. He likely thinks you already have. You’ve nothing to fear.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed.

“Lucy?” Thomas leaned forward, covering her hand with his own. “Why are you worried? Has something happened?”

She shrugged. “No, not really. It’s just that the housekeeper said a census taker was outside asking all manner of questions this morning. And she said he was…” Lucy started to say ‘handsome’ then remembered the housekeeper’s admonishment about paying notice to the appearance of men. Mustering a smile, she shook her head. “You’re right. I’m just being silly.”

“Silly Lucy,” Benedict said. “Whatever shall we do with her?”

“Love her forever, obviously,” Thomas said with a smile. “Or we could perhaps take her mind off of these vexations.” He stood and walked over, tipping Lucy’s face up until she was looking at him. “Would a bit of schooling help?”

Lucy all but beamed at this suggestion. ‘Schooling’ was her guardians’ euphemism for a lesson in carnal pleasures. “Yes, sirs,” she said, and the men guided her upstairs.

“I think,” Thomas said when they were in their private parlor, “that we should explore new uses for our Lucy’s sweet mouth.”

“What a grand idea,” Benedict said, loosening his trousers. “Lucy, do you like it when Thomas and I put our mouths between your legs?”

She flushed. “Oh, so much,” she said innocently, but her voice had the huskiness of a wanton woman.

“Your men like that, too,” he said. “And today we shall teach you how to pleasure us as we have pleasured you.”

Lucy’s tongue darted out to touch her top lip as she watched Benedict pulling on his cock until it was long and hard. The idea of taking it into her mouth was very appealing. The men had already taught her how to touch them, to move her hand up and down their shafts, to recognize and stimulate the most sensitive parts of their manhoods. But this had been with her hands, and now she would apply those lessons with lips and tongue and the warm cavern of her mouth.

Thomas guided her as she snaked out her little pink tongue to quickly run it along the underside of Benedict’s cock, lapping away a salty, slick drop of arousal from the slit at the tip. She was rewarded by his manly shudder, and emboldened by the power her slightest touch gave her over the man she loved. With her gaze cast up, she opened her mouth and took him in, heeding Thomas’ advice to relax her throat as the other man’s cock slid in and out, going deeper each time until it was nudging at the back of her throat.

She thought of sex, of how his cock had moved back and forth so often in her pussy, of how good it felt. She thought of how Benedict stiffened before filling her with his seed. He was moving faster now; how long could it be before he filled her mouth as he filled her pussy? And what would she do?

“When he spends, swallow it,” Thomas was saying, his voice thick with need. “This is how you show your obedience to us, Lucy.”

She could not help but to touch herself as her head bobbed up and down on Benedict’s cock; his excitement was feeding her own, and the closer he came to coming, the closer she came. By the time his warm tribute flooded into her mouth, she was ready to swallow, drinking from him as if drinking his seed would sustain her building orgasm. When the last drop was gone, she moved her head away and threw it back, her fingers working her clit as she cried out. Her eyes closed in rapture, and when she opened them, it was to the sight of both her men looking down at her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked breathlessly.

“Oh, no, my dear,” Thomas said. “I believe we are thinking the same thing, which is that you are the most amazing woman we have ever known, and we are so very lucky to call you ours.”

Chapter Thirteen: A Nefarious Plan

Nathan Stiles considered himself a patient man, but this day had been testing his resolve. Everything was in place now that he’d finally secured Judge Bonham’s signature on the paper transferring custody of Lucy Priven to himself. Stiles had slid it in among other papers. As usual, Bonham signed off on one order after another without even looking at them. Afterwards, Stiles tucked the papers into his satchel as he always did, planning to file all of them away—with one important exception. The order he would present to the doctors at the home he’d visited two weeks earlier. He’d stood outside, posing as a census taker until he’d encountered a housekeeper going inside. He’d questioned her to be sure Lucy was still in residence, and had gleaned enough information to ascertain that she was. Today was the day he’d fetch her to a new home, where he’d keep her pending testimony against Bonham. And after that? He smiled to himself. It had been a long time since he’d tumbled something so sweet and innocent. He was looking forward to it.

But his plans to leave were being thwarted at every turn. It was approaching five o’clock and Bonham was still giving him picayune tasks, and the secretary felt himself growing edgy.

“Something wrong?” Bonham was scowling on the heels of asking his man to pen another letter before leaving.

“No,” Stiles said, trying to keep his tone in check. “I was simply hoping to end my workday early.”

“Big evening planned with the ladies?”

Just yours
, Stiles thought, but instead managed a fake smile. “With luck, Judge Bonham.”

“Well, if you can complete this one task without another heavy sigh, then I shall relieve you for the day, Nathan. But may I remind you that you should count yourself fortunate to be in my employ. A man of your lowly beginnings, and no education, could have done worse…”

Stiles swallowed the urge to tell Bonham how much he hated him, and how much enjoyment he would take in seeing him fall. But instead, he fixed his employer with what he hoped passed for an appreciative smile.

“Of course,” he said. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of how to repay you.”

Judge Bonham looked up from his desk, regarding his trusted secretary quietly. “How kind of you, Mr. Stiles.”

The secretary’s day had ended soon after that, and ever meticulous, he checked to make sure everything was in place for his plan. His second time fetching Lucy Priven would be far more satisfying than the first. He smiled as he thought of cornering his disgraced, powerless employer sometime in the future to describe how it felt to fuck Lucy Priven. He imagined the impotent rage of an impotent man, imagined the puffy face flushing red, imagined the spittle flying from Bonham’s lips as he issued threats he could not carry out.

The only thing playing against him now was the weather. A cold sleet was falling over London, hard enough that his driver asked if they could run the errand he’d hired him for early. But Stiles was adamant that the man drive him in the dark. If there were protests or trouble, he didn’t want to risk being seen by anyone on the street. Not that he expected trouble; why would two doctors defy a judge’s order for the sake of a simple girl. But one never knew.

Relentless sleet was pattering hard on the carriage top by the time Stiles pulled up outside the home housing the offices of Dr. Thomas Allard and Dr. Benedict Crane. Stiles pulled his coat tight around his body as he approached the door of the house and knocked.

* * *

“Did you hear a rap?” Lucy looked up from the butterfly she’d been examining through the magnifying glass before carefully laying the creature’s preserved body back in its case. She and her guardians had been examining Thomas’ collection, a favorite evening pastime since he’d first shown her the little fly trapped in amber. At first she thought she’d imagined the rapping, but no, there it was again.

“I’ll check,” said Benedict, rising and heading to the door. “Weather like this tends to bring folks looking for help.”

He disappeared, and Thomas was just about to quiz Lucy on the name of a bright blue butterfly when they heard raised voices. Lucy looked to her guardian, whose face registered concern.

“Lucy, stay here,” he said, but as soon as he left the room she waited for only a moment before padding out after him. When she reached the top of the stairs and looked down into the foyer, her blood ran cold as her deepest fears were confirmed. There stood Judge Bonham’s secretary, his handsome face smug as a distressed Dr. Crane looked at a piece of paper.

“What’s going on?” Thomas had reached the two men now.

“This man is with the courts. He says Dr. Litman lied to us and Judge Bonham never transferred custody to St. Bart’s. He says he has an order correcting the mistake.” Benedict handed Thomas the paper.

“Dr. Litman assured us the exchange was legal,” Thomas said.

“Then he grossly misinformed you. Where’s the girl?”

“She’s not going with you.” Thomas’ voice was tight. “We saved her from St. Bart’s. Her very abandonment there would have been a death sentence if we’d not taken her!”

“You have no choice,” Stiles hissed. “Need I remind you this order is signed by one of the most prominent men in London, a man with the power to have you both incarcerated for kidnapping? Do you want to join Litman in a scandal that will ruin your medical careers as it will his?” He paused. “Give me the girl.”

“No.” Now Benedict was speaking. “Order or not, we will not take the word of a man who shows up with a claim and an order. If you’re an associate with the court, then it’s the court we’ll answer to. Not to you.”

“You’re a fool, man,” Stiles said. “Get the girl. She’ll prove I am Judge Bonham’s personal secretary. Get her. Now!”

“No,” Benedict said. “She’s safe upstairs and that’s where she will remain.”

“This is your last chance.” Stiles’ voice was hard-edged now. “Judge Bonham has ordered me to tell you that if you do not relinquish this girl to me, tonight, you will be held in contempt and thrown in jail!”

“Then so be it.” Thomas took a step toward the man. “But we will have to hear it from him!”

As the argument escalated, Lucy turned away and hurried to her room. It was clear to her what she had to do. As she donned her cloak, she looked around at the surroundings, trying to commit them to memory. Her doll Dorothy lay on the bed, and Lucy picked her up, hugging the toy tight.