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Against All Odds: A Gilded Age Romance
- Thread starter Barbaria1
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- humour punishment romance sex
Rumor has it that Cruxton Abbey is always a good choice. The service staff there is forever in need of young females, and good old-fashioned strict discipline is part of the bargain.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Perhaps, Cruxton Abbey could use skilled and disciplined staff like Kristina?
twonines
LIMERICUS
Sounds ideal.
Kristina would be straight in there. A chambermaid with her skills? Gold dust!
Chapter 27
Nearly a week had passed since she had been incarcerated … yes ‘incarcerated’ was definitely the right word, thought Barbara. It was Saturday night, nearly a week now since she had become a prisoner of the Darwin Institute for Wayward Young women. She definitely felt imprisoned.
She was wide awake at the time, lying on her bed in the Institute’s women’s dorm room, along with a dozen others. The room was unbearably hot and stuffy with all the windows closed and locked on a sultry August night.
She reckoned it was still a good many hours until daybreak. She couldn’t sleep and she doubted any of the others could either, as there was a lot of rustling, sighing and moaning coming from elsewhere around the room.
She was especially aware of the sounds coming from Gwendolyn and Elisabeth, the two senior girls, who were quite obviously humping away with one another over on Gwendolyn’s bed. Barbara found it both exasperating and maddening that those two prima donnas could get away nightly with doing what would send Barbara, or any of the others, to the garden whipping post for a dozen lashes.
They were able to get away with it because none of the others dared to report them. Everyone knew that Gwendolyn and Elisabeth had exclusive access to the matrons’ ears, that only they would be believed, and that there was simply no getting around that.
Gwendolyn and Elisabeth simply ruled the roost.
She turned her back to them in disgust and wrapped her thin pillow around her head in a vain attempt to drown out their squeals and cries of ecstasy.
By this time Barbara had learned a lot about the place and how it was run, and what Darwin meant when he spoke of ‘treatments’. His methods had turned out to be exactly as Hazel had characterized them over breakfast on Barbara’s first day. The idea was simply to force the girls to ‘associate’ sexual desire and satisfaction with the swift application of unbearable pain and discomfort.
Barbara had learned that everyone was required under Darwin’s plan to undergo a regimen of two ‘treatments’ a day, once in the morning and again in the afternoon. And she had already experienced a week’s worth of the treatments prescribed specifically for the newest inmates, who took theirs together as a group.
She imagined it was, but wasn’t sure whether … because discussion of treatments amongst themselves was strictly prohibited … it was the same for the others. Or then again, perhaps, different methods were employed as time went on. One thing was for certain. She knew she’d eventually find out.
Her initiation to Darwin’s methods had taken place on Tuesday morning immediately following the garden whippings of Clara and Florence and the three lashes so gleefully meted out to herself at the hand of Gwendolyn in retribution for her unsatisfactory performance at flogging Florence.
Yes, she really disliked that bitch, Gwendolyn!
Following her brief acquaintance with the garden whipping post, and with her backside still stinging from the bite of the lash, and her sarong left behind on the ground, she had been marched off to the Institute’s cellar by Max. There she had been ushered into what the sign on the door designated as ‘Treatment Room A’.
Inside the clinically-looking whitewashed chamber were four heavy wooden tables. Florence, Clara, and Hazel, were already there … strapped down naked on their backs to the tabletops of three of the four.
Max had immediately swept Barbara off her feet and hefted her onto the vacant fourth table … alongside which matrons Jones and Marston stood at the ready with the straps and cuffs needed to tie her down.
She was positioned there flat on her back, as were the other three girls. A leather strap was cinched tightly over her chest at the level of her armpits while her arms were drawn down along her sides and her wrists shackled there to the edges of the tabletop. Max had then taken her ankles in his iron grip to spread her legs and raise her knees. After which another strap was secured over her hips and shackles locked over her ankles. As a finishing touch, a wooden wedge was slipped under her head to ensure that she would be able to look down the length of her body.
At that point, Darwin had entered the room to ask whether all was ready to begin. He was promptly assured by the matrons that it was.
Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he had nodded and declared, “Excellent, let’s begin then with Barbara, shall we?”
Then there was the rattle of a wheeled cart being trundled across the uneven stone floor by Max. Curious to see what that might be all about, Barbara lifted and turned her head towards the sound and found that on the cart were arrayed a number of dildos of various sizes and descriptions, glass jars of what appeared to be gels and creams, and a strange looking contraption with a handle crank of some kind and with wires attached.
It hadn’t been difficult to imagine what the dildos, gels and creams were for, but the strange contraption was another matter.
She, however, had learned its purpose soon enough. It was a hand-cranked electric generator. And the wires attached to it had clips on them … fearsome looking, jaw-toothed clips which the matrons busied themselves attaching to her nipples. She had yelped in pain at their bite as each of the clip’s jaws snapped shut.
Darwin himself took charge of administering the initial phase of her treatment by slopping a generous dollop of slimy gel over and inside the lips of her pussy, as well as on a dildo with a bulbous head that he had selected, after a moment’s thought, from the array on the cart.
It was at that point, that she had become quite alarmed and begun squirming about and protesting loudly. But the restraints allowed her only minimal freedom of movement and her vociferous complaining had been promptly stifled by Marston, who stuffed a rag gag in her mouth.
Darwin had then proceeded to stimulate her sexually, displaying the same skill with dildo and fingers that he had deployed the previous evening during her physical exam. Arousal had come quickly to her, overcoming her will to resist, and it wasn’t long before he brought her to orgasm.
And it was precisely at that point that he withdrew both dildo and forefinger, turned to Max, who stood ready with hand poised on the cranking handle of the contraption on the cart, and cried, “Now Max! Let her have it!”
Max had immediately begun to crank furiously, and within seconds waves of electric current were pulsating through her nipples, causing her to buck and writhe, expel the gag from her mouth, and scream in an ungodly mixture of ecstasy, pain and terror, as shock after shock after shock racked her body.
When the waves of electrical shocks finally ceased, she had laid there, covered with perspiration, shivering and shaking, with drool from the corners of her mouth running down her flushed cheeks, and tears welling in her eyes, blurring her sight.
At that point, Darwin and his crew callously yanked the clips from her nipples and, leaving her behind, went on to administer the same treatment to poor Hazel, awaiting her turn on the next table.
Barbara had endured nine more of these sessions over the rest of the week, all done in exactly the same way, the only exception being that the good doctor had seen fit to substitute his own erection in place of a dildo for the final treatment on Saturday afternoon. He had declared at the time, that ‘realism’ was an important element of his therapy as well.
Barbara, as she lay on her dorm bed, head buried under her pillow, imagined that statement to be an unsettling portent of an escalating level of misery and terror to come. She found herself quite distressed over the fact that Darwin, of all people, had turned out to be the very first to consummate ‘the act’ with her. To be sure, while Jeremy and Stan had both been allowed to penetrate her, neither had had the opportunity to bring her or themselves to orgasm. She thought it horrible that such an honor should have fallen to a pig like Darwin, and certainly not with her consent.
Wait! Or was it with her consent? After all, father had signed her over to his care, hadn’t he? And might that not been a blanket consent to Darwin’s methods, whatever they might be?
Father had insisted, she recalled, that they give this farce a two or three week trial? What little he knew! Unfortunately there was no obvious way that she could let him know, back in New York, how wrong he had been to leave her in the hands of Dr. Darwin!
“Moore! Get your little ass over here!” came a harsh whisper from across the room.
It was Gwendolyn.
Sighing to herself, Barbara tossed her pillow aside, crawled out of bed and made her way over to Gwendolyn, who was lying in bed with Elisabeth cuddled in alongside her.
“Use your tongue and clean us up, girl, and be quick about it!” commanded her nemesis.
“Yes, me first,” giggled Elisabeth.
Barbara would have loved to tell them both off, but knew better. So she knelt on the edge of the bed and lowered her head between Elisabeth’s open thighs. Her senses were immediately assaulted by the sweet musky odor of the girl’s recent arousal. Resisting the urge to gag, she dutifully lapped up the juices covering Elisabeth’s privates and inner thighs, and then she performed the same repulsive task for Gwendolyn.
“That’s all. You can go back to bed now. By the way, Moore, you have a nice tongue. Perhaps next time we’ll have you get us both off before we have you do clean up.” smirked Gwendolyn.
Elisabeth tittered over the idea.
“I ought to report you both!”
“I wouldn’t try it Moore. But go ahead if you must. There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than an opportunity to lay twelve good ones on you at the whipping post! I’m sure that could be arranged.”
Cowed, Barbara dejectedly returned to her bed.
“Don’t fight them. Don’t fight Darwin. Don’t fight anyone here,” advised Hazel from the next bed.
“I know,” sighed Barbara.
**************
Back in New York that night, Archibald Vandergrift was also having a sleepless night. He hadn’t been able to sleep well at all since receiving that letter from James Moore.
He’d been feeling troubled and confused, and at times furiously angry, ever since discovering his beloved Barbara lying half-undressed on a bed of straw under the Saratoga Springs grandstand with that Goldman character on top of her with his pants down. He’d never seen anything so shockingly disgusting in his entire life.
And then that letter from her father had arrived in the mail. He reckoned he had re-read it dozens of times over the last few days, and still wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Was it really possible, as her father suggested, that Barbara had acted that way because of some affliction, an affliction that was reversible with treatment? And that he, Archibald, should now treat this sordid affair, as her father suggested, with ‘patience and forbearance’?
Did she really love him, as the letter claimed? Or was James Moore simply maneuvering Archibald about as a pawn in a desperate gambit to salvage something of his and his daughter’s deteriorating social standing?
There was simply no way of knowing. And there were other questions too. What exactly was this affliction? Exactly how might it be cured? Who was this expert who claimed that it could be? Exactly where was this place her father had sent her off to for treatment and for how long was she going to be there?
Again no answers. He was coming to the conclusion that the only way to find out would be to go to the Plaza next week and confront her father for answers. But he’d have to wait until Monday to do that as he had social commitments to attend to on Sunday.
In his frustration, he toyed with the idea of getting up and dressed, and going down to the Bowery to visit a house of ill repute and get himself laid. But no, it was rather late, and he decided he was above that.
Doing so would have been little better than what Barbara had done, he reasoned. After all, she probably had just wanted to get herself laid. And doing it with the likes of someone like Goldman, he reasoned, was not all that different than a visit to Rose’s.
Nearly a week had passed since she had been incarcerated … yes ‘incarcerated’ was definitely the right word, thought Barbara. It was Saturday night, nearly a week now since she had become a prisoner of the Darwin Institute for Wayward Young women. She definitely felt imprisoned.
She was wide awake at the time, lying on her bed in the Institute’s women’s dorm room, along with a dozen others. The room was unbearably hot and stuffy with all the windows closed and locked on a sultry August night.
She reckoned it was still a good many hours until daybreak. She couldn’t sleep and she doubted any of the others could either, as there was a lot of rustling, sighing and moaning coming from elsewhere around the room.
She was especially aware of the sounds coming from Gwendolyn and Elisabeth, the two senior girls, who were quite obviously humping away with one another over on Gwendolyn’s bed. Barbara found it both exasperating and maddening that those two prima donnas could get away nightly with doing what would send Barbara, or any of the others, to the garden whipping post for a dozen lashes.
They were able to get away with it because none of the others dared to report them. Everyone knew that Gwendolyn and Elisabeth had exclusive access to the matrons’ ears, that only they would be believed, and that there was simply no getting around that.
Gwendolyn and Elisabeth simply ruled the roost.
She turned her back to them in disgust and wrapped her thin pillow around her head in a vain attempt to drown out their squeals and cries of ecstasy.
By this time Barbara had learned a lot about the place and how it was run, and what Darwin meant when he spoke of ‘treatments’. His methods had turned out to be exactly as Hazel had characterized them over breakfast on Barbara’s first day. The idea was simply to force the girls to ‘associate’ sexual desire and satisfaction with the swift application of unbearable pain and discomfort.
Barbara had learned that everyone was required under Darwin’s plan to undergo a regimen of two ‘treatments’ a day, once in the morning and again in the afternoon. And she had already experienced a week’s worth of the treatments prescribed specifically for the newest inmates, who took theirs together as a group.
She imagined it was, but wasn’t sure whether … because discussion of treatments amongst themselves was strictly prohibited … it was the same for the others. Or then again, perhaps, different methods were employed as time went on. One thing was for certain. She knew she’d eventually find out.
Her initiation to Darwin’s methods had taken place on Tuesday morning immediately following the garden whippings of Clara and Florence and the three lashes so gleefully meted out to herself at the hand of Gwendolyn in retribution for her unsatisfactory performance at flogging Florence.
Yes, she really disliked that bitch, Gwendolyn!
Following her brief acquaintance with the garden whipping post, and with her backside still stinging from the bite of the lash, and her sarong left behind on the ground, she had been marched off to the Institute’s cellar by Max. There she had been ushered into what the sign on the door designated as ‘Treatment Room A’.
Inside the clinically-looking whitewashed chamber were four heavy wooden tables. Florence, Clara, and Hazel, were already there … strapped down naked on their backs to the tabletops of three of the four.
Max had immediately swept Barbara off her feet and hefted her onto the vacant fourth table … alongside which matrons Jones and Marston stood at the ready with the straps and cuffs needed to tie her down.
She was positioned there flat on her back, as were the other three girls. A leather strap was cinched tightly over her chest at the level of her armpits while her arms were drawn down along her sides and her wrists shackled there to the edges of the tabletop. Max had then taken her ankles in his iron grip to spread her legs and raise her knees. After which another strap was secured over her hips and shackles locked over her ankles. As a finishing touch, a wooden wedge was slipped under her head to ensure that she would be able to look down the length of her body.
At that point, Darwin had entered the room to ask whether all was ready to begin. He was promptly assured by the matrons that it was.
Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he had nodded and declared, “Excellent, let’s begin then with Barbara, shall we?”
Then there was the rattle of a wheeled cart being trundled across the uneven stone floor by Max. Curious to see what that might be all about, Barbara lifted and turned her head towards the sound and found that on the cart were arrayed a number of dildos of various sizes and descriptions, glass jars of what appeared to be gels and creams, and a strange looking contraption with a handle crank of some kind and with wires attached.
It hadn’t been difficult to imagine what the dildos, gels and creams were for, but the strange contraption was another matter.
She, however, had learned its purpose soon enough. It was a hand-cranked electric generator. And the wires attached to it had clips on them … fearsome looking, jaw-toothed clips which the matrons busied themselves attaching to her nipples. She had yelped in pain at their bite as each of the clip’s jaws snapped shut.
Darwin himself took charge of administering the initial phase of her treatment by slopping a generous dollop of slimy gel over and inside the lips of her pussy, as well as on a dildo with a bulbous head that he had selected, after a moment’s thought, from the array on the cart.
It was at that point, that she had become quite alarmed and begun squirming about and protesting loudly. But the restraints allowed her only minimal freedom of movement and her vociferous complaining had been promptly stifled by Marston, who stuffed a rag gag in her mouth.
Darwin had then proceeded to stimulate her sexually, displaying the same skill with dildo and fingers that he had deployed the previous evening during her physical exam. Arousal had come quickly to her, overcoming her will to resist, and it wasn’t long before he brought her to orgasm.
And it was precisely at that point that he withdrew both dildo and forefinger, turned to Max, who stood ready with hand poised on the cranking handle of the contraption on the cart, and cried, “Now Max! Let her have it!”
Max had immediately begun to crank furiously, and within seconds waves of electric current were pulsating through her nipples, causing her to buck and writhe, expel the gag from her mouth, and scream in an ungodly mixture of ecstasy, pain and terror, as shock after shock after shock racked her body.
When the waves of electrical shocks finally ceased, she had laid there, covered with perspiration, shivering and shaking, with drool from the corners of her mouth running down her flushed cheeks, and tears welling in her eyes, blurring her sight.
At that point, Darwin and his crew callously yanked the clips from her nipples and, leaving her behind, went on to administer the same treatment to poor Hazel, awaiting her turn on the next table.
Barbara had endured nine more of these sessions over the rest of the week, all done in exactly the same way, the only exception being that the good doctor had seen fit to substitute his own erection in place of a dildo for the final treatment on Saturday afternoon. He had declared at the time, that ‘realism’ was an important element of his therapy as well.
Barbara, as she lay on her dorm bed, head buried under her pillow, imagined that statement to be an unsettling portent of an escalating level of misery and terror to come. She found herself quite distressed over the fact that Darwin, of all people, had turned out to be the very first to consummate ‘the act’ with her. To be sure, while Jeremy and Stan had both been allowed to penetrate her, neither had had the opportunity to bring her or themselves to orgasm. She thought it horrible that such an honor should have fallen to a pig like Darwin, and certainly not with her consent.
Wait! Or was it with her consent? After all, father had signed her over to his care, hadn’t he? And might that not been a blanket consent to Darwin’s methods, whatever they might be?
Father had insisted, she recalled, that they give this farce a two or three week trial? What little he knew! Unfortunately there was no obvious way that she could let him know, back in New York, how wrong he had been to leave her in the hands of Dr. Darwin!
“Moore! Get your little ass over here!” came a harsh whisper from across the room.
It was Gwendolyn.
Sighing to herself, Barbara tossed her pillow aside, crawled out of bed and made her way over to Gwendolyn, who was lying in bed with Elisabeth cuddled in alongside her.
“Use your tongue and clean us up, girl, and be quick about it!” commanded her nemesis.
“Yes, me first,” giggled Elisabeth.
Barbara would have loved to tell them both off, but knew better. So she knelt on the edge of the bed and lowered her head between Elisabeth’s open thighs. Her senses were immediately assaulted by the sweet musky odor of the girl’s recent arousal. Resisting the urge to gag, she dutifully lapped up the juices covering Elisabeth’s privates and inner thighs, and then she performed the same repulsive task for Gwendolyn.
“That’s all. You can go back to bed now. By the way, Moore, you have a nice tongue. Perhaps next time we’ll have you get us both off before we have you do clean up.” smirked Gwendolyn.
Elisabeth tittered over the idea.
“I ought to report you both!”
“I wouldn’t try it Moore. But go ahead if you must. There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than an opportunity to lay twelve good ones on you at the whipping post! I’m sure that could be arranged.”
Cowed, Barbara dejectedly returned to her bed.
“Don’t fight them. Don’t fight Darwin. Don’t fight anyone here,” advised Hazel from the next bed.
“I know,” sighed Barbara.
**************
Back in New York that night, Archibald Vandergrift was also having a sleepless night. He hadn’t been able to sleep well at all since receiving that letter from James Moore.
He’d been feeling troubled and confused, and at times furiously angry, ever since discovering his beloved Barbara lying half-undressed on a bed of straw under the Saratoga Springs grandstand with that Goldman character on top of her with his pants down. He’d never seen anything so shockingly disgusting in his entire life.
And then that letter from her father had arrived in the mail. He reckoned he had re-read it dozens of times over the last few days, and still wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Was it really possible, as her father suggested, that Barbara had acted that way because of some affliction, an affliction that was reversible with treatment? And that he, Archibald, should now treat this sordid affair, as her father suggested, with ‘patience and forbearance’?
Did she really love him, as the letter claimed? Or was James Moore simply maneuvering Archibald about as a pawn in a desperate gambit to salvage something of his and his daughter’s deteriorating social standing?
There was simply no way of knowing. And there were other questions too. What exactly was this affliction? Exactly how might it be cured? Who was this expert who claimed that it could be? Exactly where was this place her father had sent her off to for treatment and for how long was she going to be there?
Again no answers. He was coming to the conclusion that the only way to find out would be to go to the Plaza next week and confront her father for answers. But he’d have to wait until Monday to do that as he had social commitments to attend to on Sunday.
In his frustration, he toyed with the idea of getting up and dressed, and going down to the Bowery to visit a house of ill repute and get himself laid. But no, it was rather late, and he decided he was above that.
Doing so would have been little better than what Barbara had done, he reasoned. After all, she probably had just wanted to get herself laid. And doing it with the likes of someone like Goldman, he reasoned, was not all that different than a visit to Rose’s.
A note for Chapter 27
Darwin’s basic “level 3” treatment regimen for young ladies plagued by “overactive libidos” was built on the simple principle of accustoming his charges to associate sexual pleasure with extreme pain. And being a thoroughly modern practitioner, he employed electric shock as his method of choice when it came to inflicting the right amount of pain. This meant employing a hand cranked electromagnetic generator, the operating principle of which had been discovered in 1831 by the English scientist Michael Faraday. By the time of our story such generators had been improved and perfected to the point that they had begun to be mass-produced and marketed.
Darwin most likely attached leads to Barbara’s nipples from a device similar to the one pictured below (patented April 23, 1887), and then stood back to allow Max to do the hard work of cranking out the current, and for Barbara to suffer the shocking effects.
Darwin’s basic “level 3” treatment regimen for young ladies plagued by “overactive libidos” was built on the simple principle of accustoming his charges to associate sexual pleasure with extreme pain. And being a thoroughly modern practitioner, he employed electric shock as his method of choice when it came to inflicting the right amount of pain. This meant employing a hand cranked electromagnetic generator, the operating principle of which had been discovered in 1831 by the English scientist Michael Faraday. By the time of our story such generators had been improved and perfected to the point that they had begun to be mass-produced and marketed.
Darwin most likely attached leads to Barbara’s nipples from a device similar to the one pictured below (patented April 23, 1887), and then stood back to allow Max to do the hard work of cranking out the current, and for Barbara to suffer the shocking effects.
Doragon
Tribune
I think it's very kind of him to let her have actual orgasms.
'Let her have it' - I try to imagine how he would say this. It should of course sound like 'give her the punishment', but it could be said in a way like 'give her what she desires', as a reward. Which might actually be the way she perceives it, because the orgasm was against her will, so she would feel remorse.
How wonderfully cruel this clinical rape is.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Dr. Darwin uses aversion therapy. Reminds me of the Ludovico therapy in A Clockwork Orange.
windar
Teller of Tales
This was the era when electric wires were being strung everywhere, starting in cities. Very soon, the more rural areas will be wired, so Max won't have to work so hard.
Damn, Goldman should have charged for his services!
There is quite a choice of villains here. But remeber it's all for Barb's own good, right? Right???I'm having to split the loathometer between Gwendolynand Elisabeth
Tree has a telephone that looks similar to this, but it doesn't have any leads for Barb's nipples...
Attachments
twonines
LIMERICUS
Why not?Tree has a telephone that looks similar to this, but it doesn't have any leads for Barb's nipples...
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Tree has a telephone that looks similar to this, but it doesn't have any leads for Barb's nipples...
Gilded Age wireless technology?
Does it scream, "Get me down, Tree, you bastard!' every time someone rings to sell you double glazing?Tree has a telephone that looks similar to this, but it doesn't have any leads for Barb's nipples...
windar
Teller of Tales
Chapter 28.
Dr. James Darwin didn’t see himself as an evil man. Not in the least. He saw himself as a humanitarian, really. The young women in his care suffered due to their overactive libidos, which impeded their ability to fit into polite society and achieve marital bliss with a suitable young man.
One might imagine a society where women were equal to men, like those “suffragettes” were striving for, a society in which both genders could satisfy their lusts freely, but such a state had not been achieved and seemed unlikely to come to pass any time soon. So, women would have to deal with the reality of life as it was and learn to overcome their desires. And that was where Dr. Darwin came to their rescue.
To be sure, his methods were unorthodox. But he was not alone in that. He knew of the work of Dr. John Harvey Kellogg and his sanitarium in Battle Creek, Michigan-the vegetarian diet, the yogurt enemas-all designed to suppress the carnal desires in both sexes. Yes, Kellogg had reported good results, but what happened to his patients when they left the sanitarium? How many backslid into the swamp of lust and dissipation?
There was no doubt that Dr. Darwin’s methods caused some transitory discomfort. But what was worse, some short-term pain or a life wasted in sexual excess? The question answered itself.
And his methods were not pulled out of thin air, but, rather, founded in science. The great Russian physiologist, Ivan Pavlov, had been able to train dogs to associate certain signals with positive rewards, like food or negative sensations like pain. He was using similar methods to train young women to associate sexual desire with pain and thus suppress those unwanted feelings.
To be sure, his methods didn’t work in every case. Neither did the various “cures” for sundry diseases propounded by famous doctors at Harvard and Johns Hopkins. He had his successes, young women who had left his Institute to become good wives and mothers of whom society could be justly proud. Then there were others on whom his best efforts failed, who eventually slipped into their former decadent ways, lusting after carnal gratification wherever they could find it.
He feared Barbara Moore might be one of the latter. Her sexual urges were so strong that so far, they showed no sign of diminishing despite his best efforts. Perhaps, he shouldn’t have allowed his frustration at her arousal to have tempted him to the extreme of using his male organ instead of the dildo. That wasn’t his normal practice; it had happened only occasionally during his time running the Institute, but what’s done is done. He wasn’t sure it would make much difference in her case.
‘But, enough dwelling on Moore,’ Darwin thought. It was Sunday and there were special activities planned. First, a rip-roaring sermon from Richard Lansing, Pastor of a local church, who would lay out for the young ladies in gruesome detail the hellfire that awaited those who allowed lust to tempt them into behavior clearly forbidden in the Bible, a torment compared to which the application of electricity to their most sensitive parts was a mere tickle.
This would be followed, it being a lovely summer’s day, by a session of vigorous outdoor exercise. Darwin had found that such physical activity was an excellent diversion from thoughts of a sexual nature. ‘A sound mind in a sound body’, as the ancients had prescribed.
He finished dressing, and after a hearty breakfast of pancakes, bacon and coffee-he never touched the awful gruel that the patients were limited to in a further attempt to curb their sexual appetites-he made his way to the chapel, where he took his customary seat in a pew in the front row.
Pastor Lansing was in fine form, barely distracted from his animated preaching by the sight of the lovely naked breasts of the four sarong-clad recent arrivals, who squirmed noticeably as he described how the demons would stick flaming pitchforks into their succulent flesh for all of eternity if they didn’t lead a life free of sin.
Darwin might have worried about an ordinary man exposed to such blatant temptation, but he knew that the Pastor, as a man of the cloth, was immune to the lusts that would have led many astray. Finally, Lansing wound down and took his seat, the inmates presumably suitably chastened by the knowledge of where their errant behavior could lead them if they didn’t exercise the self-control that the Institute was instilling in them.
Following the sermon, Darwin mounted the podium, gazing out at the assembled congregation. “Young ladies, another week has passed at the Darwin Institute for Wayward Young Women. A week in which you have learned to suppress your wanton urges, as impressed upon you, one hopes, by Pastor Lansing.”
“Now,” he continued, “Let us have some good clean fun. Let us enjoy some healthy outdoor exercise free from the intrusion of sexual feelings. ‘A sound mind, in a sound body,’ as I like to say. It’s a beautiful summer afternoon, one worthy of enjoyment. Please all rise and follow the Matrons outside.”
The Institute occupied a large property. In front was the carriage path on which new inmates had arrived, paved in crushed stone, surrounded by a manicured lawn, tended by Max when his services in the cellar weren’t needed. Behind the main building was a forested expanse that sloped down steeply to the Hudson River.
The matrons assembled the inmates on the crushed stone carriage path. “Equality in competition is a fine idea,” Darwin announced. “Some of you are fully clad, some are not. So, like the Greeks in their Olympics, you will all be equal and compete naked.”
The senior girls looked nonplussed to be asked to shed the clothing which they had worked so hard to earn the right to wear. “You heard Dr. Darwin, you cunts,” Matron Jones said. “Now strip!”
The four new girls had only their sarongs to shed, which took but a moment. The senior inmates, however, took considerable time to unbutton their dresses, lace-up boots and corsets and to remove their stocking and undergarments, leaving them in a heap on the grass. Eventually, all of them stood completely naked under the bright summer sun, some trying valiantly to cover their intimate areas, others accepting the ultimate futility of that gesture.
They were truly a site to behold. Were Dr. Darwin an ordinary male of the species he would have been seized by almost unbearable lust. Of course, his long experience in such matters enabled him to exert the self-control appropriate to his position.
“We shall have a footrace, up the path to the gate, then turn around and return here. The first three finishers will be entitled to ice cream.” He could see the longing on the faces of the young women who had been subsisting on a meager diet devoid of flavor.
“But first, we must do some warmups to get the blood circulating,” he ordered. “Matron Marston would you lead them through their paces, please?”
“With pleasure, Dr. Darwin,” the Matron replied. “Alright, ladies, hands on your hips. Let’s go!”
Those who had attempted modesty were now compelled, along with those who hadn’t, to comply, exposing their breasts and the hair between their legs.
“Feet further apart!” Marston ordered. “Now, twist all the way right. Let’s go, Victoria, loosen those hips. You too, Hazel.”
“Now left!” Marston commanded. Soon she had them twisting back and forth, their breasts swaying enticingly under the warm sun.
The twists were followed by some deep knee bends, which set the inmates’ breasts bouncing up and down. Dr. Darwin watched, entranced by the spectacle.
Finally, Marston ordered them to bend and touch their toes. Darwin inspected the line of exposed posteriors. A few bore faint traces of punishments administered during the prior week, but overall, they showed that the regimen practiced at the Institute was beneficial to the development of these fine specimens of the female of the species.
Now that they were suitably warmed up, Matron Jones had them line up in front of the mansion. “Remember, ladies, stay on the path. Anyone who steps onto the grass is disqualified. On your marks, get set, go!”
At the signal they took off in a group. Quickly, the genius of limiting the run to the crushed stone path became clear. The stones were hard on the tender soles of these formerly pampered young women, such that none could really run all out. But, the promised reward of the cool ice cream on the hot day beckoned despite the pain. ‘A valuable life lesson,’ Darwin thought. ‘Which would win out?”
Also, limiting the group to a fairly narrow path resulted in considerable jockeying for position as the group made their way towards the gate. Darwin’s scientific curiosity was stimulated by seeing how the girls would handle this and who would come out on top. Something else was stimulated by the sight of all those naked female hindquarters undulating as the ladies moved and the shrieks of anger and pain as an errant elbow hit a vulnerable breast.
The racers reached the gate, and there was a momentary scrum as they turned into the home stretch. Now instead of naked bottoms, Darwin was treated to the view of naked breasts as the group approached. Suddenly he saw a determined Gwendolyn, heedless of the rough footing, break from the pack and surge into the lead.
And who was that following close on her heel? Why, it was Barbara Moore. No doubt, a life in the north woods, even as the daughter of a very rich man, had included some hiking or canoeing or snowshoeing or whatever people did up there in that godforsaken wilderness that had prepared her for just such a competition.
The two leaders maintained their position as they approached the finish line, finally reaching their goal, sweaty and out of breath. There was much jockeying for third and the much desired treat. It was hard to tell who arrived first from the group, but Matron Jones awarded the prize to Catherine, one of the girls from the intermediate class, making for a nice symmetry with each class represented.
The selection occasioned much grumbling from the others, which Matron Marston quashed by suggesting that any further protests would earn the complainers a vigorous whipping administered with her own powerful right hand.
Three bowls of ice cream were brought out-Neapolitan, a mix of vanilla, chocolate and strawberry-which were quickly wolfed down by the victors under the jealous gaze of their fellow inmates.
The rewards dispensed, Darwin decided to move the proceedings along. “One activity that was mandatory in competitions in ancient times was wrestling. Those of you who have been at the Institute for some time have had the experience; now it is the turn of our new class. Hazel, Clara, Barbara and Florence please step forward onto the grass.”
The foursome did as instructed, though not with any display of enthusiasm. There were whispered confidences exchanged among the other inmates, quickly shushed by the Matrons.
Darwin approached the four recent arrivals, scrutinizing them carefully. “Let’s see,” he said. “We’ll have Hazel take on Barbara and Clara against Florence.” The girls paired off. “Whoever pins their opponent,” he announced, “will be permitted a warm bath tonight with scented oils. The loser will be washed in cold water as you were upon arrival. Before we begin, please remember a few basic rules. No hitting, biting, or scratching. You are to wrestle and that means close body contact, grappling and leveraging to pin your opponent with her back to the grass. Now let’s see everybody try their best.”
The two pairs circled each other warily. There were whistles and hoots from the other girls who were watching intently. Suddenly, Hazel moved in towards Barbara, grasping her torso in a bear hug, their breasts pressing together. Barbara leaned in to her opponent trying to get enough purchase to throw her to the ground. This caused their pudenda to rub together as well.
Stimulated by this development and by the encouragement of the spectators, Clara and Florence were soon locked in an embrace as well. Eventually, Hazel and Florence were able to bring their opponents to the ground, where further struggles ensued, with much rolling about on the grass, as each wrestler tried to mount their opponent and pin them.
Dr. Darwin found it a most exciting spectacle; naked young females rubbing against each other in the open air, muscles tensing, breathing heavily, though none had succeeded in decisively subduing her opponent.
Finally, reluctantly, he called a halt. “Alright, on your feet,” he announced. The athletes broke their clutches and rose slowly to their feet. “I must inform you that this competition wasn’t really about wrestling. Rather it is a test, an evaluation of how well your first week of therapy has progressed. Has the association of sexual pleasure with pain truly been effective at quelling your libidos?”
He extracted a large dildo from his jacket pocket and approached Clara. Holding her buttocks with one hand, he inserted the dildo into her vagina, moving it about to ensure good contact with the membranes before extracting it.
He examined the wooden object closely, sniffing it and running one finger along its length. “Clara is a 6,” he announced. Matron Jones made a notation on a clipboard. “Very good.”
He repeated the process with Florence. “A 7,” he said. Hazel was also a 7.
Finally, he came to Barbara. He inserted the dildo, then removed it and examined it, shaking his head. “Dear Barbara,” he said, “I’m afraid the therapy has been unsuccessful with you so far. You rate a 10.” Jones made a notation on the clipboard.
“This will not do. I’m afraid that sterner measures are called for to help you control yourself. Let’s see if a dozen with the birch will help to quell these desires.”
There were gasps from the other girls and cackles of delight from Matrons Marston and Jones.
Barbara looked confused. “The birch, sir?” she asked.
“Yes, Barbara,” Darwin replied. “I’m afraid so.”
“You’re going to punish me for something that isn’t my fault, for natural desires that I have no control over?”
“It’s not punishment, my dear, it’s therapy. To help you develop self-control. That is why you are here. Now, Matron Marston will accompany you into the forest where she will help you select some supple twigs for your therapy session. The rest of you can follow Matron Jones down to the river where you can have a refreshing swim. We will reconvene here one hour from now.”
Darwin watched Barbara’s tight little ass as she meekly followed the Matron into the woods to prepare the instrument under which that flesh would suffer in what was probably a fruitless attempt to quench her unquenchable urges.
Dr. James Darwin didn’t see himself as an evil man. Not in the least. He saw himself as a humanitarian, really. The young women in his care suffered due to their overactive libidos, which impeded their ability to fit into polite society and achieve marital bliss with a suitable young man.
One might imagine a society where women were equal to men, like those “suffragettes” were striving for, a society in which both genders could satisfy their lusts freely, but such a state had not been achieved and seemed unlikely to come to pass any time soon. So, women would have to deal with the reality of life as it was and learn to overcome their desires. And that was where Dr. Darwin came to their rescue.
To be sure, his methods were unorthodox. But he was not alone in that. He knew of the work of Dr. John Harvey Kellogg and his sanitarium in Battle Creek, Michigan-the vegetarian diet, the yogurt enemas-all designed to suppress the carnal desires in both sexes. Yes, Kellogg had reported good results, but what happened to his patients when they left the sanitarium? How many backslid into the swamp of lust and dissipation?
There was no doubt that Dr. Darwin’s methods caused some transitory discomfort. But what was worse, some short-term pain or a life wasted in sexual excess? The question answered itself.
And his methods were not pulled out of thin air, but, rather, founded in science. The great Russian physiologist, Ivan Pavlov, had been able to train dogs to associate certain signals with positive rewards, like food or negative sensations like pain. He was using similar methods to train young women to associate sexual desire with pain and thus suppress those unwanted feelings.
To be sure, his methods didn’t work in every case. Neither did the various “cures” for sundry diseases propounded by famous doctors at Harvard and Johns Hopkins. He had his successes, young women who had left his Institute to become good wives and mothers of whom society could be justly proud. Then there were others on whom his best efforts failed, who eventually slipped into their former decadent ways, lusting after carnal gratification wherever they could find it.
He feared Barbara Moore might be one of the latter. Her sexual urges were so strong that so far, they showed no sign of diminishing despite his best efforts. Perhaps, he shouldn’t have allowed his frustration at her arousal to have tempted him to the extreme of using his male organ instead of the dildo. That wasn’t his normal practice; it had happened only occasionally during his time running the Institute, but what’s done is done. He wasn’t sure it would make much difference in her case.
‘But, enough dwelling on Moore,’ Darwin thought. It was Sunday and there were special activities planned. First, a rip-roaring sermon from Richard Lansing, Pastor of a local church, who would lay out for the young ladies in gruesome detail the hellfire that awaited those who allowed lust to tempt them into behavior clearly forbidden in the Bible, a torment compared to which the application of electricity to their most sensitive parts was a mere tickle.
This would be followed, it being a lovely summer’s day, by a session of vigorous outdoor exercise. Darwin had found that such physical activity was an excellent diversion from thoughts of a sexual nature. ‘A sound mind in a sound body’, as the ancients had prescribed.
He finished dressing, and after a hearty breakfast of pancakes, bacon and coffee-he never touched the awful gruel that the patients were limited to in a further attempt to curb their sexual appetites-he made his way to the chapel, where he took his customary seat in a pew in the front row.
Pastor Lansing was in fine form, barely distracted from his animated preaching by the sight of the lovely naked breasts of the four sarong-clad recent arrivals, who squirmed noticeably as he described how the demons would stick flaming pitchforks into their succulent flesh for all of eternity if they didn’t lead a life free of sin.
Darwin might have worried about an ordinary man exposed to such blatant temptation, but he knew that the Pastor, as a man of the cloth, was immune to the lusts that would have led many astray. Finally, Lansing wound down and took his seat, the inmates presumably suitably chastened by the knowledge of where their errant behavior could lead them if they didn’t exercise the self-control that the Institute was instilling in them.
Following the sermon, Darwin mounted the podium, gazing out at the assembled congregation. “Young ladies, another week has passed at the Darwin Institute for Wayward Young Women. A week in which you have learned to suppress your wanton urges, as impressed upon you, one hopes, by Pastor Lansing.”
“Now,” he continued, “Let us have some good clean fun. Let us enjoy some healthy outdoor exercise free from the intrusion of sexual feelings. ‘A sound mind, in a sound body,’ as I like to say. It’s a beautiful summer afternoon, one worthy of enjoyment. Please all rise and follow the Matrons outside.”
The Institute occupied a large property. In front was the carriage path on which new inmates had arrived, paved in crushed stone, surrounded by a manicured lawn, tended by Max when his services in the cellar weren’t needed. Behind the main building was a forested expanse that sloped down steeply to the Hudson River.
The matrons assembled the inmates on the crushed stone carriage path. “Equality in competition is a fine idea,” Darwin announced. “Some of you are fully clad, some are not. So, like the Greeks in their Olympics, you will all be equal and compete naked.”
The senior girls looked nonplussed to be asked to shed the clothing which they had worked so hard to earn the right to wear. “You heard Dr. Darwin, you cunts,” Matron Jones said. “Now strip!”
The four new girls had only their sarongs to shed, which took but a moment. The senior inmates, however, took considerable time to unbutton their dresses, lace-up boots and corsets and to remove their stocking and undergarments, leaving them in a heap on the grass. Eventually, all of them stood completely naked under the bright summer sun, some trying valiantly to cover their intimate areas, others accepting the ultimate futility of that gesture.
They were truly a site to behold. Were Dr. Darwin an ordinary male of the species he would have been seized by almost unbearable lust. Of course, his long experience in such matters enabled him to exert the self-control appropriate to his position.
“We shall have a footrace, up the path to the gate, then turn around and return here. The first three finishers will be entitled to ice cream.” He could see the longing on the faces of the young women who had been subsisting on a meager diet devoid of flavor.
“But first, we must do some warmups to get the blood circulating,” he ordered. “Matron Marston would you lead them through their paces, please?”
“With pleasure, Dr. Darwin,” the Matron replied. “Alright, ladies, hands on your hips. Let’s go!”
Those who had attempted modesty were now compelled, along with those who hadn’t, to comply, exposing their breasts and the hair between their legs.
“Feet further apart!” Marston ordered. “Now, twist all the way right. Let’s go, Victoria, loosen those hips. You too, Hazel.”
“Now left!” Marston commanded. Soon she had them twisting back and forth, their breasts swaying enticingly under the warm sun.
The twists were followed by some deep knee bends, which set the inmates’ breasts bouncing up and down. Dr. Darwin watched, entranced by the spectacle.
Finally, Marston ordered them to bend and touch their toes. Darwin inspected the line of exposed posteriors. A few bore faint traces of punishments administered during the prior week, but overall, they showed that the regimen practiced at the Institute was beneficial to the development of these fine specimens of the female of the species.
Now that they were suitably warmed up, Matron Jones had them line up in front of the mansion. “Remember, ladies, stay on the path. Anyone who steps onto the grass is disqualified. On your marks, get set, go!”
At the signal they took off in a group. Quickly, the genius of limiting the run to the crushed stone path became clear. The stones were hard on the tender soles of these formerly pampered young women, such that none could really run all out. But, the promised reward of the cool ice cream on the hot day beckoned despite the pain. ‘A valuable life lesson,’ Darwin thought. ‘Which would win out?”
Also, limiting the group to a fairly narrow path resulted in considerable jockeying for position as the group made their way towards the gate. Darwin’s scientific curiosity was stimulated by seeing how the girls would handle this and who would come out on top. Something else was stimulated by the sight of all those naked female hindquarters undulating as the ladies moved and the shrieks of anger and pain as an errant elbow hit a vulnerable breast.
The racers reached the gate, and there was a momentary scrum as they turned into the home stretch. Now instead of naked bottoms, Darwin was treated to the view of naked breasts as the group approached. Suddenly he saw a determined Gwendolyn, heedless of the rough footing, break from the pack and surge into the lead.
And who was that following close on her heel? Why, it was Barbara Moore. No doubt, a life in the north woods, even as the daughter of a very rich man, had included some hiking or canoeing or snowshoeing or whatever people did up there in that godforsaken wilderness that had prepared her for just such a competition.
The two leaders maintained their position as they approached the finish line, finally reaching their goal, sweaty and out of breath. There was much jockeying for third and the much desired treat. It was hard to tell who arrived first from the group, but Matron Jones awarded the prize to Catherine, one of the girls from the intermediate class, making for a nice symmetry with each class represented.
The selection occasioned much grumbling from the others, which Matron Marston quashed by suggesting that any further protests would earn the complainers a vigorous whipping administered with her own powerful right hand.
Three bowls of ice cream were brought out-Neapolitan, a mix of vanilla, chocolate and strawberry-which were quickly wolfed down by the victors under the jealous gaze of their fellow inmates.
The rewards dispensed, Darwin decided to move the proceedings along. “One activity that was mandatory in competitions in ancient times was wrestling. Those of you who have been at the Institute for some time have had the experience; now it is the turn of our new class. Hazel, Clara, Barbara and Florence please step forward onto the grass.”
The foursome did as instructed, though not with any display of enthusiasm. There were whispered confidences exchanged among the other inmates, quickly shushed by the Matrons.
Darwin approached the four recent arrivals, scrutinizing them carefully. “Let’s see,” he said. “We’ll have Hazel take on Barbara and Clara against Florence.” The girls paired off. “Whoever pins their opponent,” he announced, “will be permitted a warm bath tonight with scented oils. The loser will be washed in cold water as you were upon arrival. Before we begin, please remember a few basic rules. No hitting, biting, or scratching. You are to wrestle and that means close body contact, grappling and leveraging to pin your opponent with her back to the grass. Now let’s see everybody try their best.”
The two pairs circled each other warily. There were whistles and hoots from the other girls who were watching intently. Suddenly, Hazel moved in towards Barbara, grasping her torso in a bear hug, their breasts pressing together. Barbara leaned in to her opponent trying to get enough purchase to throw her to the ground. This caused their pudenda to rub together as well.
Stimulated by this development and by the encouragement of the spectators, Clara and Florence were soon locked in an embrace as well. Eventually, Hazel and Florence were able to bring their opponents to the ground, where further struggles ensued, with much rolling about on the grass, as each wrestler tried to mount their opponent and pin them.
Dr. Darwin found it a most exciting spectacle; naked young females rubbing against each other in the open air, muscles tensing, breathing heavily, though none had succeeded in decisively subduing her opponent.
Finally, reluctantly, he called a halt. “Alright, on your feet,” he announced. The athletes broke their clutches and rose slowly to their feet. “I must inform you that this competition wasn’t really about wrestling. Rather it is a test, an evaluation of how well your first week of therapy has progressed. Has the association of sexual pleasure with pain truly been effective at quelling your libidos?”
He extracted a large dildo from his jacket pocket and approached Clara. Holding her buttocks with one hand, he inserted the dildo into her vagina, moving it about to ensure good contact with the membranes before extracting it.
He examined the wooden object closely, sniffing it and running one finger along its length. “Clara is a 6,” he announced. Matron Jones made a notation on a clipboard. “Very good.”
He repeated the process with Florence. “A 7,” he said. Hazel was also a 7.
Finally, he came to Barbara. He inserted the dildo, then removed it and examined it, shaking his head. “Dear Barbara,” he said, “I’m afraid the therapy has been unsuccessful with you so far. You rate a 10.” Jones made a notation on the clipboard.
“This will not do. I’m afraid that sterner measures are called for to help you control yourself. Let’s see if a dozen with the birch will help to quell these desires.”
There were gasps from the other girls and cackles of delight from Matrons Marston and Jones.
Barbara looked confused. “The birch, sir?” she asked.
“Yes, Barbara,” Darwin replied. “I’m afraid so.”
“You’re going to punish me for something that isn’t my fault, for natural desires that I have no control over?”
“It’s not punishment, my dear, it’s therapy. To help you develop self-control. That is why you are here. Now, Matron Marston will accompany you into the forest where she will help you select some supple twigs for your therapy session. The rest of you can follow Matron Jones down to the river where you can have a refreshing swim. We will reconvene here one hour from now.”
Darwin watched Barbara’s tight little ass as she meekly followed the Matron into the woods to prepare the instrument under which that flesh would suffer in what was probably a fruitless attempt to quench her unquenchable urges.
A note for Chapter 28
Darwin’s enthusiasm for forcing his charges to partake in a program of outdoor exercises and physical competition was in keeping with the times. For it was widely believed at the end of the 19th century that exercise, particularly group exercise, was a way for men and women to shape and improve themselves. Physical exercise and competition was also believed to go hand in hand with reading and discussion … as the credo of the day was to have both “a sound mind and body”.
Organizations, like the YMCA and YWCA were eager proponents, as were many immigrant organizations, such as the Turner Verein. The Turner Verein built large halls in many American cities, equipped with gyms and libraries to not only build sound minds and bodies, but also to integrate German-Americans into their new home.
While such organizations were highly unlikely to have promoted nude exercising or nude female wrestling as Darwin did that Sunday afternoon on the grounds of his Institute … as a forward-looking, enlightened man of his time, he was quick to adapt a national craze to suit his own personal kink.
A Turner Verein athletic group photo from the time of our story. Note the absence of any females:
Turner Verein halls in New York City:
Darwin’s enthusiasm for forcing his charges to partake in a program of outdoor exercises and physical competition was in keeping with the times. For it was widely believed at the end of the 19th century that exercise, particularly group exercise, was a way for men and women to shape and improve themselves. Physical exercise and competition was also believed to go hand in hand with reading and discussion … as the credo of the day was to have both “a sound mind and body”.
Organizations, like the YMCA and YWCA were eager proponents, as were many immigrant organizations, such as the Turner Verein. The Turner Verein built large halls in many American cities, equipped with gyms and libraries to not only build sound minds and bodies, but also to integrate German-Americans into their new home.
While such organizations were highly unlikely to have promoted nude exercising or nude female wrestling as Darwin did that Sunday afternoon on the grounds of his Institute … as a forward-looking, enlightened man of his time, he was quick to adapt a national craze to suit his own personal kink.
A Turner Verein athletic group photo from the time of our story. Note the absence of any females:
Turner Verein halls in New York City: