A Cure for MelancholiabyCouture©
A Treatment for Melancholia
Mr. Johnson rocked back and forth with the steady rhythm of the trolley, he sat reading the paper, and doing his best to ignore the people around him. He finished the news and then turned to the back classifieds. He usually didn't read such tripe, cures for baldness etc. but today something caught his eye.
Is your wife not quite the woman you married? Is she depressed? Listless? It could be melancholia. It's a treatable condition. Results guaranteed. Dr. Livingston 809A Main St.
That was a word Mr. Johnson liked to see. But he was still cautious. His wife wasn't quite the woman he married, oh she was still pretty with her curly red hair and her tight young body. She was better than a balding, slightly overweight man like him deserved, but he was rich and could afford the finest. And lately...he wasn't quite as sure he had the finest. No, lately the new had worn off. Her eyes didn't fill with gladness whenever he came home at night...more often as not late as usual.
Moreover, she had taken to nagging.
No, not the wife he had married at all.
He inspected the ad again. He had heard stories of some of these treatments already. But this one looked different. Guaranteed. He was temped on that word alone. It would be free if he wasn't satisfied. They didn't think he would hold them to the bargain, but they didn't know the sort of man he was. His mouth took on a sly grin and he looked around. He was on the 600 block of Main Street. 700. He was practically there already.
He pulled the cord for the next stop.
Not much of an office, Mr. Johnson thought as he climbed the narrow creaking steps and entered the cheaply furnished room.
Dr. Livingston could see the look of condescension written in the customer's eyes. But the well dressed man didn't know half of it.
It was a crummy office.
But it was an even crummier home. Yet, that was indeed what it was. There was a small bedroll hidden in the back cabinet, and that was where Dr. Livingston had slept each night for the last 3 weeks. It hadn't always been this way. She'd once been wealthy. Not well to do. But wealthy enough to pursue her passion to become a doctor. They wouldn't teach her in the United States; she'd had to go to France. She'd come back with just enough to start her practice. Yet, everyone so far had turned tale and ran the moment that she said she was a doctor. She'd lost her apartment, and much more and she'd soon be on the street.
"Is the Doctor in?" Mr. Johnson asked.
Dr. Livingston hated this portly bald fool already. As if SHE couldn't be the doctor. But she knew from experience that was a argument she couldn't win. Not with such small minded people as these.
"Not right now. But what is your ailment?" Dr. Livingston asked.
"Well...I saw your ad." Mr. Johnson said. He'd have rather said it to the doctor, but this may be even better. He could feel this woman out to see if it was worth his bother. "The one about melancholia. My wife...well she has all the symptoms. I was wondering...is this treatment some sort of tonic?"
"Oh no sir," Dr. Livingston said, while thinking. Yes! The ad. Finally some good news at last. "it isn't a tonic at all, but science. Magnetics. Electrics. The latest techniques thanks to Tesla and Edison sir."
"Electrics you say?" Mr. Johnson said. "Is it safe?"
"Of course. And effective." She had him. She just knew it.
"How much is the cost?" Mr. Johnson asked.
"Five dollars a treatment," Dr. Livingston said. She would be able to pay part of the rent on her office.
"That's awfully steep," Mr. Johnson said. "How much for half a treatment?"
Cheap bastard! How much for half a leg? Or arm? Half a case of measles?
"Sir, melancholia is a very serious condition as you probably already know, else you wouldn't be here today," Dr. Livingston said. "Besides, it is guaranteed. If you aren't satisfied, the next visit is free. That's like paying for half a treatment."
"Okay..." Mr. Johnson dug in his wallet and handed the receptionist a five from a fat clip of many larger bills. "I'll need a receipt."
He smiled as she bent over to write out the receipt, and smiled even wider when he gave her ass a good feeling up. The receptionist was older than he preferred, but she had an impudent tone that deserved a good feeling up.
"Sir!" Dr. Livingston gasped with outrage, as she spun around. She was tempted to give him a good slapping, but she stayed her impulse and her hand kept a death grip on the money he had given her. She swallowed her pride and handed him the receipt.
'What an ass!' Dr. Livingston thought as she locked the door behind him. Well, at least she had five dollars and her first patient. After advertising so many medical services for weeks with not the first client, this was a welcome change. But a client on the first day of her new ad for melancholia. Who would have thought?
Speaking of melancholia....
Dr. Livingston bent down and removed her panties and sat down on her examination table, a foot going into each of the stirrups. She turned the knob up to two and attached a small round attachment to the cord. It began to buzz. She touched it to her clit and began to make small circles with it.
That bastard! He had felt her up like she was a nothing...a nobody. Not a doctor. Not with the respect she deserved. But the buzzing probe took all those thoughts away. Replaced them with a welcome tingling.
It was her own invention. Well, the attachments were anyway. They were using the electrics in France when she left, but it was by accident she had touched it to her sex. Shocking! But then she thought....hmmm...I can use this. And with no clients and time on her hands...she did.
Moaning softy, she diddled her clit. Her hips thrust in response. Fuck. Oh fuck. The ad had been a last ditch effort. She could use the device on other women to treat their melancholia. It was better than tonics. At least it was for her. Her thighs began to tremble. She was gushing on the table. If only...if only it wasn't so messy.
Then she had another thought. She picked up a small bowl from a nearby table and sat it beneath her cunt. That should do it. She reached back and turned other knob to 1 and inserted the device in her very aroused sex.
Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck! The vibrations made her insides feel aflame. Her breath became ragged. Her thick thighs wouldn't stay still. The trembled. They clenched. They spread.
That smug rich asshole that had so infuriated her was quickly forgotten. There was only sensation. And heat. And there was something else now...an occasional spark of electricity that made her cunt spasm and buck. Made it clamp down on the small rod every two seconds.
Her hips thrust. Her cunt twitched. She held her breasts tightly with her hands and let the device work its magic, occasionally bending down to lick a hard thick nipple.
"Yes..yes...oh yes...." she moaned. And soon she was bucking, spasming, and twitching in pleasure. And a hot sweet...welcome ...orgasm.
When she was able, she turned the dials back to zero and pulled the rod from her sex. She looked in the bowl and crinkled her nose in response. She wondered how much it was...
She poured the contents into a small bottle. Hmmm....five teaspoons. Not bad. Not bad at all. She left the bottle on top of the device, took out a book and began to read. Soon after, she unrolled her bed and laid down. It hurt her back. And she was cold. After two hours of tossing and turning, she finally went to sleep.
The next morning, Cindy Johnson heard a knock on the door.
Who could it be at this hour she wondered? She was surprised when she opened the door. An older woman stood next to a large case on wheels.
"I'm not interested...." Cindy said. Although in truth she was. On the side of the case in large letters were the words, Electric. Magnetic. Miraculous.
"I'm not selling anything dear," Dr. Livingston said. "Your husband did tell you about the appointment he scheduled you for, didn't he?"
No he didn't. Damn it! He didn't tell her much of anything. But Cindy didn't tell the woman that. It would be improper.
Frank didn't say much to her these days. No, I love yous. No, I'll by home late tonight. Her mouth set into a frown as she thought of how he ignored her. Yet, she couldn't tell any of this to this woman standing at her door.
So, instead she answered," Of course he did...I - I just lost track of time."
"Be a dear and help me with my case," Dr. Livingston said.
On the bright side, it looked like Cindy was going to finally be able to learn what was inside that intriguing case. She couldn't help but be a bit disappointed when it was finally opened. It was all knobs, cords, and strange looking metal shapes, she could make head nor tales of.
"What is it that my husband was interested in purchasing?" Cindy asked.
"Purchasing?" Dr. Livingston said. "Oh you misunderstand my purpose here. He's sent me here to treat your melancholia."
"Melancholia?" Cindy said, holding her hand to her chest, now not sure of this woman, her husband...and now herself.
"But of course..." Dr. Livingston said, and soon the young housewife found herself hustled into the living room and before she could argue, the examination had begun.
"Open dear." Dr. Livingston inserted the tongue depressor in the young newlywed's mouth, giving a cursory glance at her throat, but mainly to shut her up. "Say ahhh..."
"Have you had symptoms of weakness? Irritability? Difficulty sleeping? Please remove your blouse so I can check your heart."
It was all going so very fast for Cindy. Cindy soon found her blouse and brazier had been removed, and a cold stethoscope applied to her chest. It all seemed so professional, much like her other visits with the doctor, yet she was suspicious. Who ever heard of a woman doctor? Cindy could feel her nipples stiffening due to the cold metal of the stethoscope.
"Deep breath in..." Dr. Livingston said. "Now release. Again."
Dr. Livingston put the stethoscope back in the case. "Very good. Other than the melancholia, you seem in good physical condition. Now I need you to remove the rest of your clothing."
"Excuse me?" Cindy asked, clearly uncomfortable with this new request.
"The rest," Dr. Livingston said. "Look girl, I don't have time for dramatics, I have another client was a broken leg I need to get to."
A broken leg? The doctor obviously had important things to be doing. People with actual ailments, and Cindy didn't really think she had melancholia. She didn't want this unwanted attention. She certainly didn't want someone to suffer additional pain while she procrastinated with the doctor. And then the young housewife found herself obeying the older woman's orders. Taking off her skirt, girdle, garters, stockings, and panties.
Oh this girls a looker, Dr. Livingston thought to herself as she watched the timid housewife disrobe. Her body was lean and young. Her hair was strawberry blonde. Her eyes big and blue. Freckles covered her cheeks, breasts, and shoulders. Her nipples were the pinkest pink she had ever seen. A young housewife. Married only a year and already her husband wasn't satisfied. Such a shame. Well, there was no help for that, it was five dollars and Dr. Livingston needed the money desperately.
Dr. Livingston took out a metal attachment, this one a long metal wand and attached it the the wire. She turned the second knob to 2. That should do the job.
"Tell me if this is uncomfortable," Dr. Livingston said and then she touched the tip to Cindy's pretty ear.
"Ouch!" Cindy jerked back reflexively. She'd never experienced such a sensation, except maybe when she had hit her funny bone against something.
"Curious," Dr. Livingston said. "Was even this low setting uncomfortable to you?"
"Not uncomfortable," Cindy said. "Just surprising. The metal is cold."
But she had lied. She wanted to know something first before answering truthfully. "Why? Is it an indication of something?"
"Melancholia dear," Dr. Livingston said. "But you have nothing to fear since you merely reacted to the cold. Nothing to fear at all."
The wand was waving menacingly. Cindy tensed in anticipation, watched as it neared her neck only to change course and move to her breast, before finally settling on her lean stomach.
"Oh!" she gasped as her insides danced.
"Still too cold," Dr. Livingston asked, then warming the probe in her hand. Surreptitiously switching off the juice before doing so.
The housewife watched as the doctor held the probe that caused her such distress with no apparent problem. Then the probe stuck out again, this time sending a shock to her thigh.
"Perhaps you are ticklish?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Do you have sensitivity to being tickled?"
"Yes doctor," Cindy lied, feeling more and more unsure of herself by the moment. Did she have melancholia? And if she did, was she in danger? But she had already lied, and now she couldn't bring herself to admit the truth.
"We can't have you jumping and giggling whenever I touch you," Dr. Livingston said. "You could hurt yourself or damage my equipment. Down on the floor with you Mrs Johnson. On all fours."
"What for?" Cindy asked. "Are you sure that's proper?"
"Of course I'm sure," Dr. Livingston said. "I'm your doctor."
"But...but..." the young housewife stammered as the doctor guided her down on all fours.
"Sush dear," Dr. Livingston said. "This won't take but a moment. Put your hands in here."
And then she held open a loop she had quickly fashioned from the young woman's stockings.
"What is this for?" Cindy said, even as her wrists were cinched tight and tied to a sofa leg.
"This isn't necessary doctor," Cindy plead. "I'll hold still. I promise."
"If I had a dime for every time someone said that, I'd be a rich woman," Dr. Livingston casually replied, as she secured the housewife's ankle to the other leg of the sofa with her scarf. Finally she looped the girl's other ankle with her stockings and began pulling the leg over to a nearby chair.
"Madam I implore you," Cindy said angrily as she began to struggle uselessly. She had been holding her in temper, but at last it flared. However by now it was far too late. "Untie me this very instant. My husband is on the council. I'll....I'll have you thrown out of this city on your ass - doctor or no doctor."
"There's only one problem with that," Dr. Livingston said. The first problem was that Dr. Livingston had nothing to lose, but she didn't mention that detail. She chose another tact.
"Your husband wanted this examination. He's quite worried about your mental state. He described your symptoms of melancholia to me perfectly. Now, that doesn't mean you have the disease, but I would be remiss if I didn't test you thoroughly."
The doctor turned the knob up to four this time and proceeded to work. She touched the probe here and there. On less sensitive skin first, before moving on to other areas. A soft pale bottom. The small of a well-formed back. A toned lean stomach. A trembling thigh.
"Just tickling still?" Dr. Livingston asked. "No discomfort? No strange sensations?"
The doctor watched the young housewife's wild eyes. Watched her attention fixate on the probe. Watched her face grimace as it approached. Watched her steel herself. Then watched her young perfect body spasm delightfully from the effects of the electricity even as she mentally tried her best to resist. Watched her test her bonds. Listened to the young woman lie over and over again. Until at last the probe moved slowly toward her sex.
"No..." Cindy moaned. "Oh God...please..."
"What dear?" Dr. Livingston said. "Feel okay still? We are almost done with the test setting and then we'll try it for real next time."
Test setting? God, what would the other feel like. Cindy's tongue loosened.
"....I feel it doctor. It isn't tickling at all," she admitted. "It feels like a harsh tingling. Like a hit to my funny bone. Only it isn't on my funny bone at all."
"Oh dear," Dr. Livingston said. "This is just what I was afraid of."
"Of what?" Cindy didn't like the tone of the doctor's voice. If the doctor was afraid, then Cindy was very very afraid.
"Melancholia dear," Dr. Livingston said convincingly. "One of the worst cases I've ever seen."
"Really?" Cindy whispered. "I don't feel bad. No more than most..." But now she wasn't sure. She had been feeling a little worse than usual lately. Tired. Irritable.
"The test doesn't lie dear," Dr. Livingston said. "But don't worry, there is a treatment. A new one thanks to advances in science. One that I'm sure you'll like much better than that dreadful test."
Dr. Livingston was busy unscrewing the wand from the cord. She looked in the chest and pulled out an new device. This one had a handle about as big around as her thumb and a small ribbed ball on the end. She turned the electrics knob back to zero and turned the vibration knob to one.
She aimed the new attachment at the young housewife's sensual lips, only to have the girl pull away reflexively.
"Please..." Cindy begged. "Don't..."
"Sush...." Dr. Livingston said. "I promised you'd like this..."
She touched the probe to Cindy's swan-like neck. The girl gasped and jerked back. Then realized that the doctor was correct. It didn't hurt. She held still while the probe traced its way down her back. It felt rather nice. She didn't start struggling again until the probe made its way lower and lower. To her bottom. Dear Lord...between her cheeks.
Oh God! What was this dreadful woman up to? Cindy struggled against her bonds.
"Wait!" Cindy gasped. "What are you doing?"
"Why I'm going to stimulate your melancholia gland," Dr. Livingston said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. All the while honing in on the young woman's sexy little pussy.
"I said wait dammit!" Cindy shouted. Goddamnit! The woman wasn't listening at all. Worse, Cindy couldn't do anything about it. "First ahhh.. tell me...ah..damn you woman...where is oh!...where is the gland?"
But Cindy knew already. Then it was too late. For the wand was now inside her. Humming. Vibrating. Making her tingly. The metal felt so cold. Yet still it was making her hot.
"It's inside you dear," Dr. Livingston said, as she moved the probe in and out Cindy's perfectly pink pussy. "In here. Haven't you noticed how when you are stimulated here, your mood improves? Or how when you have you monthlies, you feel absolutely horrid?"
"Yes..." Cindy gasped. But this was her sex. Hers. And now this horrid woman had something inside her. Doing things that had never been done before. Not by her husband. Not even by her. Things that made her feel as if she were losing control. And Cindy hated losing control. She closed her eyes and tried to fight these new feelings.
"Do you have a bowl dear?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Your gland was quite swollen and making a mess of your floor."
"The...the kitchen..." Cindy said and looked down between her legs. One drop and then another and another. Oh God...she was making a mess. She contracted her sex only to have it grip the vibrating beast inside her and drip all the more. "Gods...hurry woman...ah..damn...damn you...that rug is expensive..."
The doctor rummaged through the kitchen and Cindy looked down helplessly. She had always noticed that her sheets were always wet after sex. She had assumed it was her husband's fault..but now she was beginning to suspect it was hers. Was the woman going to take all day?
Then there was a knock on the door. Could it be her husband? He would put a stop to this madness. She almost yelled out Frank, but then realized he wouldn't have knocked. Then she saw the doctor going to the door. God no!
"Wait!" Cindy shouted. "Ahhh..please..ah...please dont' answer it."