A Cure for Melancholia

"Now open that beastly mouth." Mrs. Smith demanded as she stood squarely and spread her legs, locking one thick thigh over Cindy's shoulder, and tipping the young woman's head back with a firm grip on her hair. She spread her cunt with her other thick fingers, and sped a digit over her clit. "Mmmphh...I have a present for you girl....oh oh...here it comes...swallow quickly now..else you'll have to lick it off the floor..."

Dr. Livingston smiled as she witnessed the young housewife catch the first spurt of woman cum in her mouth, and the next on her face. However, the third...the third leaked out of those swollen cunt lips and spattered on the floor.

She had come so close....yet the poor girl was going to have to lick it off the floor, Dr. Livingston thought as she looked back on final time and closed the door.

++++++++++++++++++++

It was three weeks before Dr. Livingston managed to go by Cindy Johnson's house. During that time, word had spread around town. Wives that were irate and bitchy, became much more sedate and relaxed after a treatment. Women talked to one another as well, 'you must really get a treatment from the doctor. It's electrics and magnetics. It will leave you feeling as if you are queen of the world.'

Dr. Livingston was finally able catch up on her office rent. Even think of renting a home once again. Maybe even buying one. She had used her device on countless women, yet she couldn't get the first one from her mind. Cindy Johnson. She had a craving to see the girl again. She needed to. And yet an appointment hadn't been made. Well, she would just have to check anyway.

The door was answered by Cindy Wilson, but this wasn't the arrogant and impeccably dressed young woman that had greeted her three weeks ago. This girl was shy. Well mannered.

"Welcome to the Johnson residence," she said, with a tender smile. "How may I help you?"

Cindy was wearing a short night skirt. It was so thin it was practically see through. Dr. Livingston peered closely at the shape of the girls breasts visible through the thin fabric, then her eyes lingered down at the young woman's bare legs.

"I believe I can think of something," Dr. Livingston said.

"Who is it girl?" a booming harsh voice echoed from the den.

"It's the doctor madam...." Cindy answered.

"What's she doing here?" the sound of Mrs. Smith's footstep grew louder.

"Please help me," Cindy whispered to Dr. Livingston, her eyes growing wet with tears. "Please...I beg of you."

However, the instant Mrs. Smith turned the corner, the young woman changed into a new person. One happy and beaming.

"Oh I'm doing fine doctor," Cindy said cheerfully. "It's as if my melancholia has totally disappeared. And whenever it threatens to return, Mrs. Smith is kind enough to see to it that it doesn't burden me."

"What's keeping you girl?" Mrs. Smith as she stepped up to the front door.

"It's Dr. Livingston ma'am." Cindy said. "To check on my status I believe."

"And have you been telling the doctor any of your ridiculous stories?" Mrs. Smith said with an arched brow.

"No ma'am." Cindy said keeping her eyes downcast. "Just how well adjusted I was feeling due to your care."

"That's wonderful news," Dr. Livingston said. "How about we go in and perform an examination to be sure?"

"She's doing fine now," Mrs. Smith was curt and short as she told the doctor. "Surely there is no need for you to waste your time further."

"I'm already here," Dr. Livingston said. "And it won't take but a few moments. Now if you'll excuse us."

"I'll be right over here," Mrs. Smith said, helping herself to a nearby chair.

"Oh that won't do at all," Dr. Livingston said. "The examination is always done alone. Perhaps in thirty minutes you can return and help with her treatment....if it proves necessary."

"I'd rather stay," Mrs. Smith said. "Wouldn't it be best if you had someone who wasn't obviously delusional in case you have questions."

"I'm a doctor Mrs. Smith," Dr. Livingston said. "I'm perfectly capable of dealing with someone suffering from melancholia. Even a severe case such as this. Besides, didn't you just say she was better? Now go on. It's time for her examination. I don't have all day."

Mrs. Smith reluctantly got up and made her way to the door. She looked back once. The warning in her eyes was clear. Don't you dare say anything.

As soon as the older woman left, the young newly began to babble hysterically.

"You must help me doctor," Cindy said. "She's awful truly awful. You wouldn't believe what she has done to me. My God, she even lives here now.

"Mrs. Johnson, you don't seem very thankful for all she's put herself through," Dr. Livingston chided.

"What about what she's put me through?" Cindy exclaimed. "Look!"

With that the young newlywed turned around and lifted her sleeping shift, exposing the bare cheeks of her bottom. Dr. Livingston couldn't help but notice the now healing stripes across those two beautiful cheeks. The woman had been whipped, and it wasn't with a palm this time, but a belt or some sort of lash.

"Oh my..." said the doctor, running her finger along one of those perfect globes, then feeling them up. "When did you do this to yourself? We must give you more treatments. As soon as possible. Go fetch Mrs. Smith."

The doctor knew this wasn't the case, but she needed to know more. And this seemed a sure way to get at the truth.

"No doctor...it wasn't me. That..that bitch did this," Cindy whined. "While I was on the dining table milking my filthy cu..." The young newlywed's cheeks turned crimson in shame.

"What were you saying dear girl?" Dr. Livingston pressed.

"That's what she calls it," Cindy muttered, blushing at her slip of the tongue. "And she makes me call it that too. My filthy cunt. I would never say such on my own...I used to call it my little friend...but not anymore..else she whips me.

She calls herself a good Christian, but you should hear her order me around. She tells me to get atop the table and milk my filthy cunt."

"The table?" The doctor wanted to see this herself. She wanted so desperately to see.

"The dining table doctor," Cindy blushed with humiliation. "And that's not the worst by a long shot. She hasn't used the device you gave her at all. Instead, she makes me mount a giant candle she has fashioned into a large perverse...cock ..........madam. If only to taunt me and humiliate me I'm convinced."

"You must be suffering from delusions girl." Dr. Livingston reached her hand up and felt the young housewife's forehead for a temperature then the sweet girl's chest. "Are you feverish?"

"I'm not delusional," Cindy dragged the doctor into the dining room and removed a large vase. It had a false bottom and there rising up luridly from the table, a large white phallus just as the girl described.

It was actually much larger than Dr. Livingston imagined. Her mouth gaped in astonishment. Surely not! And yet the sight made excitement run through her loins.

"Is this some sort of game you are playing at?" Dr. Livingston said. "Planting some sort of prop and then send your neighbor from the house? Am I just to take your word for it then? The word of a delusional melancholic over a good Christian woman? Any fool can see that this candle is much more than you could accommodate. Now be a dear and go fetch Mrs. Smith. You've got some explaining to do."

"But...but..." Cindy stammered. This wasn't going well at all. She must convince the doctor the only way she knew how. She opened the cabinet of the bureau and took out a bowl, placing it under the table. Then she shrugged out of her thin shift. Then used the chair as a step, and went to the top of the table.

"I know it's big doctor. And I've told her a hundred times that it's too big for me ...or at the very least... to let me do this elsewhere," Cindy said. "If someone were to come to the front door, they might see through the sheers. But the fat witch just laughs and tells me I better hurry then."

Cindy stuck her finger in her mouth for moisture, then ran it over the lips of her sex. Then she spit on the head of the large wax phallus. It's large girth even more pronounced as the slim woman spread the lubrication over the head and down the shaft with her tiny hands.

"When I first saw it," Cindy explained. "I thought it was some sort of joke. No way would such a monster go inside of me. But she used the lash to convince me. Oh she did doctor. You've seen the bruises. And it took a great deal of convincing. Trust me on that."

The petite newlywed moved her delicate feet out, straddling the vulgar candle. It was too big for the poor girl to make a go of it on her knees. So she had make do. Keeping on her feet. Thighs spread. Slowly lowering herself on it. Her slim thighs trembling with the effort.

She gave a groan as it slipped in. Her brows knit together. Her forehead grew moist, and so did her sex. She had it now. The worst was over. Up and down. Up and down. Shallow strokes, but each one took it deeper and deeper. Her juices wet along the thick wax shaft.

Dr. Livingston couldn't resist reaching her hand out, if to touch the sexy young girl if only for a second. Pushing her thighs open so she could see better.

"I can hardly believe it," Dr. Livingston said. "But you managed it. God you are sexy woman,"

Cindy blushed a bright crimson at the compliment. At one time such a comment from another woman would have angered her. But after three weeks of Mrs. Smith harsh barbs, she felt herself almost preen for a few kind words.


"She makes me do this during the bridge club," Cindy said, her voice husky and out of breath. "Her friends have taken to calling me names...just like her...they say I'm ugly. Skinny. That I stink of fish. That I'm filthy. How my face grimaces when I ....oh God...when I..."

And by now the young housewife was grimacing again. She couldn't help it. No matter how she tried. And she tried so hard. A smile. It should be so easy. And yet, she could feel her face scrunching. Couldn't stop from biting her lower lip.

"I see what those ladies are talking about," Dr. Livingston said. "What's causing you to make such a dreadful face my dear? Is it the melancholia? Are you having a seizure?"

"Oh God...ugh...I don't know doctor..." Cindy moaned. "It's as if...as if my face...has a mind... of its own when I'm being milked...I try...I try- but...oh ...oh...oh!"

And then a surge of pleasure flooded the young newlywed's loins. Hitting her with the force of a gale. Making her slim hips buck. Her legs dance and quiver. And no matter how many times it happened, she felt shamed each and every time as if it were the first. Her body gushed. Was milked. She held her hand in front to keep from making an even bigger mess. Guided her fluids into the indention made in the center of the table.

Dr. Livingston's nostrils flared as she realized what just happened. As she realized the quantity of discharge. My God, what a girl this was! I geyser of juice. What must it feel like to climax in such an explosive fashion?

Cindy pressed her fluids out. Cupping her pussy and pressing in. Using her finger to free as much as she could from her thighs, from the table, from her fingers. Pushing them into the indention and down through the freshly drilled holes.

Once the newlywed's body had subsided enough for her to get control of her spasming limbs, she began to climb off the massive phallus.

"I must see if I have milked it sufficiently," Cindy said, her cheeks burning a bright red.

"How much is required?" Dr. Livingston asked the young housewife as she retreated beneath the table to check the progress.

"Up to the line doctor. I fear I'm only halfway there."

"And you do this while they play bridge?"

"Yes...and while they make cruel comments and jibes...and then after I've milked myself...I have to come down here to check my progress...they don't let me up for hours....and until I've taken my tonic ...sometimes several times in a row...then I'm forced back to the tabletop again. They...they don't even wear panties when they come over any more."

"Dear, they are only helping with your treatment," Dr. Livingston said as she began to remove her panties. "While you are down there."

Underneath the table, so confining, nothing but her and a pair of stockinged legs, a large dress, strong thick thighs and a very wet pussy. It was a familiar sight by now. Cindy had hoped not to have to do such a thing again now that she told the doctor. But she hadn't given up hope yet...even as the young newlywed crawled forward and began to kiss...to lick...to suck.

"Oh dear!" Dr. Livingston gasped. The girl had learned a thing or two in her absence. Oh God! Her fingers ran through the pretty young woman's hair...a thing or three. In less than ten minutes the girl had coaxed an orgasm from the older woman..and quite an orgasm it was too. Positively mind blowing!

And for Cindy it was a pleasure compared to those other women. With their fat thighs and coarse hair, they very nearly always managed to chap her sensitive lips. And they smelled. Of staleness and mothballs. And a dank musk. The doctor's musk was fresh and florid with a hint of lilac. Her hair was curly and soft as down. And she didn't call her lazy. Or stupid. Or smelly. Instead she praised her.

"Oh you do that so well my dear. Such a soft and nimble tongue. Ah I've never felt such soft lips." Until at last the doctor grabbed the young housewife by her hair and pulled her tight as she spasmed from pleasure. And then after, it was almost impossible to keep still as the subjugated housewife licked and sucked every last drop of nectar from the well-sated cunt.

After the doctor came down from her orgasm, Cindy finally rose up from beneath the table. It was time for her to finish milking.

"Don't bother with that dear," Dr. Livingston said. "I can milk you far better than that monstrosity."

The doctor opened her case and hooked up a probe. Then she turned the dial to three. Yes, three would be splendid. Then she led the naked housewife to a nice comfy chair. The doctor sat down in it, placed a small bowl in her lap, and then perched the petite housewife there on arm of the chair.

So beautiful and meek, with her prefect pink skin and her perfect pink lips. Her shiny red hair. Dr. Livingston used the probe on the young woman. This wasn't a hard inflexible uncaring wax monster, but a small buzzing probe, working her, getting to know her, and giving her pleasure.

Pleasure so great, so overwhelming the young housewife didn't realize that she had fallen from the arm of the chair and into the arms of her doctor. Didn't realize it as she had nuzzled the woman's neck. Had kissed her painted red lips. Or that her tongue had left her mouth and danced with another woman's...until they were out and dancing as if they had known each other for years.

"Oh God! Oh God!" Cindy moaned. It was time. And she couldn't stop it. She just held on tight and put her hands over her sex to keep from gushing all over the good doctor. To guide it into the bowl down below. God, so much fluid. It was one of her biggest milkings yet.

Then after, she stayed there in the safety of the doctor's strong arms. With her tears flowing freely down her cheeks, she told the good doctor of her trial...and told her the worst of her tribulations...

It wasn't the milkings or the bridge club that had her so upset. Or even being treated like a servant in her own home. That could be endured.

"...oh doctor...please...you must help me...she is sleeping with my husband," Cindy blubbered. "I think it was her plan all along. She told him about my melancholia the very first night when he came home from work. She made up horrible lies of things I said. She promised him she'd look after me. And Frank...Frank was too scared to touch me. Mrs. Smith suggested I use my mouth on him....it wasn't fair that he should suffer due to my condition. And I did, but before I had even started, she came in the bedroom and began to give me pointers. How to do it properly.

I asked her to leave. And then she grew all haughty. You know the way she does. The bitch. She told me she was only trying to help.

It was just too much to bear. I mean...with my own husband...using my mouth on him....while Mrs. Smith disparaged me. All the while moving ever closer, until she held his cock in her thick pudgy fingers. Moving it out of the way whenever I tried to please him. Pushing it into my nose. Slapping it against my face. Telling me how lucky I was to have a husband with such a splendid cock even as she kept it away from me and taunted me with it. How it was a shame for him to have to put up with my sickness. How he deserved more than my clumsy attempts.

I..I...begged Frank to make her leave...but he just sat there and said she was only trying to help....even taking her side of things.

But I knew...I knew what that bitch was trying to do. Her fat fingers wrapped around his cock as she finally let me take him in my mouth. Only this time she pushed the back of my head, making me take him deeper and deeper until I began to gag and choke.

"You are so hopeless," Mrs. Smith said, her fat fingers still pumping up and down on my husband's cock while I gagged and coughed. "Anyway...that's quite enough of that. If it were going to happen, it would have happened already. Besides...isn't it time for another treatment."

But the clock hadn't rung yet. I told her I wasn't ready to leave. I looked to Frank to back me up. He wasn't even looking at me...just at that bitch...at the hand that still held his hard manhood. Worse, oh doctor. There was heat in his eyes. And then he ordered me to leave. My own husband.

And while I was downstairs on the table...in the dark...I could hear them...moaning...the bed creaking...she was fucking my husband and I had nothing...nothing but that horrible wax thing on the table...

"Perhaps they were just talking," Dr. Livingston said. This story had left her tingly. She needed to feel that sweet tongue again.

"They were in the room all night together...they...they locked me out. My own bedroom and they locked me out. In the morning...I could smell...I could smell her on my bed. I know her smell doctor...her horrid dank smell...I smell it when I eat...when I sleep...I have nightmares of that smell."

"I think you are being to harsh on your neighbor. You know how men are dear," Dr. Livingston gave the young girl a consoling kiss that started innocent enough, but then began to linger...and grow more insistent. "They think with their privates...and they can be very persuasive."

"I know," Cindy said, finding it hard to concentrate with what the doctor was doing. But she had to concentrate. She had to get rid of that horrible woman and only the doctor could help her now. "But it's HER I'm concerned about. She's not helping me. Quite to the contrary, she's using my ailment to her advantage. I sleep in the guest bedroom now, while she sleeps in the master bedroom. And you don't know what it's like. How hard it is...if I cry...if I'm unhappy...it's a sign of my melancholia....and then it's back on the table...or under the table...or the strap...I don't know which is worse."

"You poor dear," Dr. Livingston said. "And now it seems you are having another flare up again. So soon after your treatment too. Do you need some more tonic? I think you could coax a bit more out of me. Come on dear...why don't you go underneath my skirt this time. That's my poor sweet dear....let's have a smile...such a pretty face deserves a smile..."

The corners of Cindy's mouth moved up in a grimace. The doctor wasn't listening. Just thought she was some poor deranged lunatic.

"A real smile," Dr. Livingston said. "Or perhaps you need another trip to the table?"

Cindy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She rumaged around her brain to find just what she was looking for. Ah there it was...her seventeenth birthday...there in the livingroom...a shiny bike with a bow....