Thorn Hill Institute © 2006 by Estaban Bacca

Published by www.eroticexcursions.net

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. This material is presented as adult entertainment and is not intended for any person under the age of eighteen years. While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, the author assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein. All characters and descriptions contained herein are purely fictitious.

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As a very young chap at school I kept a daily journal. I was full of naïve self importance and was certain that I was destined for greatness. Smug enough to assume history would value some record of my early musings and doings. As I grew out of my boyish years though, I soon had to admit to myself that any notion of greatness was pure self-delusion. I found that I not only lacked the necessary qualities for any serious endeavour…but that I had, in fact, more the makings of a scoundrel than a statesman. A scoundrel whose infamous activities were best left unrecorded.

A recent change to my fortunes by way of an unexpected inheritance has placed me in the way of some rather unusual adventures though and I have decided they are worth setting down. Not for publication, of course, merely as a private memoir which might provide me some reflective amusement in my elder years

It all began when I stepped down from the train at Wallington on a bleak winter afternoon. I found the same unimpressive, little rural village that I remembered from my single prior visit. The station platform was empty save for two other souls. One was a woman, a thirty some odd spinsterish type and the second, a fellow in coachman’s uniform.

“Doctor Stephen Strong?” the woman asked.

“I am.” I replied.

She gestured for the man to gather my luggage and then extended a small, firm hand.

“I’m Miss Millicent Stern, Doctor. I am the Matron at Thorn Hill and have come to meet you with the carriage.”

With that she turned and started off with the bag laden coachman in her wake. As I followed, I made a mental note of the repressed chill I’d detected in her greeting. I was not surprised. The solicitors had informed me that since my uncle’s death she had been running the place. Miss Stern had probably hoped that I, as heir, would remain in the city and appoint some staid professional analyst to carry on my uncle’s work. This would have effectively have enhanced her position as any new fellow would need to rely on her.

No doubt my late uncle had also voiced his distaste for me and my debauched lifestyle. His negative opinion of me and my rather shady practice of general medicine had very probably biased her expectations. I was still astounded that the old devil had not assigned his estate to some foolish charity. However, no will had been discovered and I was heir by default. So, by choice or chance, I would be taking up residence and if Miss Stern did not smarten up I would soon send her packing.

Not having any qualifications as an analyst myself, I most likely would have just closed down Thorn Hill Institute and placed the estate on the market, but an unfortunate scandal had suddenly made a new and distant address attractive. I had decided to postpone any decision until I had explored the possibilities.

With the cool air, the drive in the open coach was brisk. Miss Stern, wrapped up in a wool shawl with a lap robe drawn up, sat across from me. In a very business like manner she set about describing Thorn Hill. It sounded rehearsed. Most probably the same patter given prospective clients.

I listened in silence, studying her features under the brim of her bonnet. She spoke out of a well defined face and despite the mundane words dropping from them; the lips were full and sensual. She wore no cosmetics but the cold had put roses on her high cheekbones. All in all she was not unattractive. Perhaps I would not dismiss her.

When at last we arrived I was thoroughly chilled and impatient. Brass plates set into each pillar of the massive stone portal astride the drive read…

Thorn Hill Institute

A curative retreat for women.

The gatekeeper was a decrepit old fellow who made a great show of his simple task with a heavy ring of keys. By the time he had finally turned the lock and slowly pulled open the ponderous iron grill I’d marked the old goat for a sacking.

The grey stone manor was three storied, with its center manse flanked by two long wings. It loomed cold and forbidding against the winter sky. In appearance, I thought, it would inspire more dread than curative hope, but the curling wisps from its chimneys reassured me that warmth was at hand.

~~~

In a deep leather chair, with a brandy and my feet toasting at the fire, I gazed about the rather Spartan quarters of my late uncle. A fireplace divided the large rectangular chamber. A single bed, a wardrobe, a bureau and washstand did for one half and a large desk surrounded by book lined walls occupied the other. All very learned and monkish. My own tastes were more Oriental. Thankfully, I could again afford to rescue my own furnishings from the pawnbroker but I would have to await their arrival before clearing out the leftovers of my dear late uncle’s life.

Matron Stern had wanted to take me on an immediate tour of the place but I had demurred and told her the following morning would be soon enough. When asked if I would take supper with the staff and residents in the refectory I also declined and told her to have a meal sent up to me. All I really wanted was a drink and a thaw, not to mention a change from my travel attire. I was too fatigued from the journey to face a parade through my late uncle’s collection of madwomen just then.

The supper was brought to me by a plain Jane of a maid and was a mediocre affair. I put aside my half done plate and poured a fresh brandy before settling down at the desk. I was still marveling at my sudden wealth, the old fellow’s bank account had been startlingly fat. I had already been given some idea of the value of the estate by the solicitors but decided a personal perusal of the journals and private papers would be wise. In his published lectures my uncle had paid pious lip service to his curative efforts on behalf of the mentally imbalanced. The content of his journals told a different story.

Thorn Hill was supposedly a benevolent private asylum. It was advertised as a curative retreat for disturbed women. The term retreat was a genteel euphemism for a place where the wealthy could lock away their embarrassments or encumbrances. It was, in reality, a sort of thinly disguised warehouse for women whose existence had become inconvenient for their families or husbands. Some did seem to have real emotional or physical impairments but many it appeared were just being kept locked away

I became quite engrossed and it was hours later when I sat back smiling broadly. I had gone through the case histories of dozens of women. There were many more remaining but I had read enough. Some were young women and some older. There were a few that had arrived quite truly crazed but many it seemed had not. These were the ones I suspected had been committed solely because their free existence had been financially or morally problematic to someone. I also noted from some of the photographs that many of the women were surprisingly attractive. Not at all the drooling crones I had imagined.

I could find no record of any patient ever leaving Thorn Hill. No live patient that is. There had over the years been a number of suicides or deaths by natural causes…but no cures. I doubted anyone who consigned a woman to such a place ever really wanted her released, ‘cured’ or otherwise and since my uncle had received handsome fees for keeping them…well… I could see that what I had actually inherited was a lucrative private prison.

Had I been a decent, upright fellow I would have felt shock and concern but I was not afflicted with either emotion. In fact, I laughed aloud. My pious and self-righteous uncle had been nothing but a heartless and profiteering hypocrite trafficking in human misery. I understood then the source of the money and why there had been no will. His death had been unexpected, but even had there been a period of grave illness, he would have been too selfish to think of giving, even in death. For the first time in my life I rather admired the old boy.

I personally had done little of note with forty years of an advantaged life. I certainly had no background in psychiatry that would fit me to legitimately oversee Thorn Hill. I had only completed a study of general medicine at my father’s insistence.

After an initially lackluster performance at university he’d threatened to cut me off and I had been forced to apply myself to his wishes. I’d struggled through the dreary medical texts and smelly dissections until…on a second attempt…I’d managed to somehow pass the examining board. I had barely opened my practice when a bout of influenza had thankfully taken away father’s overbearing presence. With his estate in hand I was freed from the necessity of gainful effort. I had been able to keep my self in style and ease until very recently.

Oh, I had maintained the fiction of a society practice. I dispensed headache powders of cocaine, tonics of laudanum and occasionally morphine. Any profit from this usually went at cards. I was a wretched gambler. Surprisingly, with my tendency to vice, I never became addicted to my own prescriptions. I did however fall to other temptations.

Nature had been rather generous to me in the matter of appearance. I was tallish and of athletic of build despite the fact that I was bone lazy and avoided the unnecessary exertion of any sport. I had a handsome head of wavy hair and dark eyes which more than one woman had described as brooding. All of that conjoined with the glib charm of a born liar had ensured that there were numerous affairs with bored married ladies. Nor, as my sexual desires were boundless, was I above regular visits to various dens of lust. It was this fondness for the illicit that became my undoing.

Wives or daughters given to fainting spells were often sent to me for treatments. If they were attractive I found it hard to resist sedating them and enjoying their bodies. A bit of carelessness and a supposedly virgin daughter’s pregnancy had finally aroused some ire at my improprieties. Naturally, nothing was taken to court, but the whispered scandal had made me a social pariah. This distasteful situation coupled with my increasing gambling debts had made the opportunity to escape to Thorn Hill a godsend.

Of course, I asked myself if such a past might not preclude my taking the helm at such an institution. The nature of the day, however, was that such establishments were not spoken of openly. If I kept a low profile and relied on my late uncle’s professional laurels I foresaw few inconveniences. Thorn Hill...how apt…those needing a hill to rid themselves of their thorns would be unlikely to inquire into or much care about its keeper’s past.

No, I was quite convinced that Thorn Hill would continue to be a golden goose and as its lord and master…I would have no longer need to sedate any women given into my care. I would be allowed to enjoy them in any manner that amused me; after all, no one would give any credence to the complaints of madwomen. I poured another brandy and sat back to contemplate my suddenly rosy future.

~~~

The quality of the first breakfast brought me was as uninspiring as the previous supper. The food provided the patients must have been dreadful. I had little concern over their fare but I would definitely engage a new cook for my own sake.

When I rang for Matron Stern she answered my summons promptly. This time she appeared before me in starched nurse’s garb. Severe and high necked though it was; it could not disguise the swells of a full bosom and nicely rounded hips. Her backside made for a pleasant enough view as I followed her out and up the wide central stairs to tour the wards.

At both second and third floors the central stairs opened to large parlours. Common areas, I was informed, for sewing, reading, group discussions and other such supposedly therapeutic pastimes. The third floor of the north wing was accessed through a locked steel door. A narrow, dimly lit corridor of about a hundred feet in length was flanked on either side by rows of padded rooms into which I could peer through narrow slits.

Here were kept the most severely disturbed cases, Matron Stern euphemized. The ranters and ravers, I thought to myself. A glimpse into the first cell, for that was what they truly were, showed me an older woman. She was nude and on her knees mumbling.

“Lady Marston,” Matron Stern explained, “She spends all her waking hours praying to an imaginary Saint.”

A faint shouting was emanating from further along the hall. When we reached it source I looked in to find another naked woman, this one younger and thin to the point of looking wasted. She was pacing wildly and pulling at her hair while screaming a constant stream of foul curses.

“And this one?” I asked

“Miss. Thelma Wixom…We don’t starve her but she eats like a bird and her constant nervous state wears away any weight we try to put on the poor thing. She imagines that she is fat if you can feature such a thing. We have even caught her self-inducing regurgitation.”

There were others, of course. One who refused to use her bed pan and had rubbed her body with her own waste. All and all it was depressing and thoroughly distasteful. I told the Matron that the whole lot looked hopeless to me. As she was locking the door behind us, I ordered that, while she might have them fed and washed as before, no other time would be wasted on them. She looked at me askance but nodded.

Our next stop took us back across the third floor parlour to the south wing. We passed through an unlocked door into a long dormitory arrangement. Here the outside light streamed in through tall, barred windows and things were somewhat brighter. Rows of neatly made beds lined each wall. It was rather like a hospital ward save that beside each bed was a chest of drawers upon which were ordered various feminine personal items. The length of it was deserted and I gave Matron an inquiring look.

“The women here are less troubled but their sponsors either cannot or will not afford them the luxury of private rooms. Their breakfast is at six down in the refectory. After that they have a walk about the grounds and then an exercise period. In the evening they have group therapy with their individual sessions scheduled through the week. Just now they are in the showers beyond that door at the end of the ward. They will be out soon if you wish to wait.”

“Why wait? Show me there now. “I said.

“But they should be done shortly.”

“No, I mean now. Surely you don’t think, Matron, that they shall be allowed any privacy from their doctor?”

“It’s just that your uncle never...”

My harsh stare told her that I didn’t give a farthing’s worth of beans for my late uncle’s practices. With pursed lips and a frown of disapproval she showed me forward.

We passed through into what might have been a gymnasium changing chamber. Wash basins lined one side and small cubicles with piss pots the other, beyond these was an area of backless benches and at the end a large open steamy area of tile with some dozen shower heads spraying.

There were twenty or more of them bathing for me to feast my eyes upon. It was veritable collage of the form feminine. Short, tall, large and small they were and their collective gasp at the sudden sight of me appearing before them was huge fun. They scurried around in shocked modesty for towels or their clothing but I was not about to have any of that nonsense.

My initial intent had merely been to have a gander at them, but the sight of some much female flesh provoked me to push my position further.

“Good morning, ladies. I am Doctor Strong. I am the new master of Thorn Hill and you are now in my charge. I see no reason to delay a preliminary examination so I want you all to lay your towels or garments back on the benches and line up facing me.”

Instead of obeying they looked questioningly to Matron Stern for direction.

“Doctor I really think…” she began.

“You will be silent, Matron. Your thoughts are not needed.” I snapped.

She fell silent but the women still stood woodenly and then one spoke up.

“I shan’t do it.” she declared

She was an attractive thing in a rather bosomy way. I decided she must be the leader of this flock of ewes. Well, I could not allow her to back me down. A loss of face would make any future control very difficult indeed. I saw that an object lesson was called for and moved quickly. I seized the bitch by her hair and before she knew which end was up, I was sitting on one of the benches with her bare arse up over my knees.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

The sharp sound of my hand mingled with her cries and echoed about the room as the rest stood about gaping in shock. I paid no heed to her pleas for mercy and belaboured her backside until she was blubbering and mouthing gibberish and then I dumped her in a sprawl onto the floor.

“Now shall you…or shan’t you stand up for my examination?”  I asked her as I sent an intimidating stare round the rest of the women’s eyes.

“Oh yes!” she sobbed, “I’m sorry I was so silly...yes, I shall, Doctor.”

She managed to get to her feet, all the while rubbing her bright red bottom, and stood bare before me. One by one the rest followed her lead until they stood in a naked rank awaiting my pleasure.

As I walked along appraising each in turn I began to feel quite the tyrant. I began laying out my expectations for their behaviour. A set of new rules as it were. Though I was speaking to all of them, I would pause before each and stare at her until she lowered her eyes. It was quite the fun game.

Once they had averted their eyes and I would heft a breast here and tweak up a nipple there. I fingered their cunts and anuses and then explored their mouths and teeth with those same slicked digits. One after the other they blushed and burned with shame. Some gasped at my touches while others let out tiny grunts. I gave the one I had spanked an especially thorough fingering. Yes it was grand entertainment and watching Matron Stern trying to ignore it all was amusing as well.

Finally I had my fill of it. My toying had tented my trousers quite obviously. I should have liked nothing more than to turn the lot of them around, bend them over and sink my cock into each of them by rote until I collapsed. It made for a pretty image and I filed it away as a future possibility but I contained myself for the moment.

I finally signaled to Matron that I was done. As we left the dormitory I told her that, henceforth, following their morning exercise that the women would await my inspection at the foot of their beds, unclothed with their legs apart and hands clasped behind their necks. There would be no further foolishness about modesty.

~~~~

The second floor of the north wing housed the staff and servants quarters. I decided to forego a tour there. I would gather them for a talk later and then interview them individually. I would give any that struck me as problematic the gate. I was sure my uncle would have hired only those he felt would be discreet but I would go over them to be certain. I wanted to insure that anything which went on behind the gates of Thorn Hill would remain private.

The middle floor of the south wing was comprised of private rooms for those whose sponsors were wealthy or indulgent enough to assuage their guilt by providing their exiled women some degree of comfort and privacy.

There were, I was told, seven in residence just then. I knew something of their histories from having perused the files. I told Matron to roust them out of their rooms and have them join me out in their parlour. I waited silently until they had gathered and then I was introduced to each in turn. This time I was the complete gentleman. After all, these were bitches of some quality and due a least a sham of respect.

I told Matron that she might leave us. After my performance with the other women she was justly leery of what I might do but she really had no option.

There was a Madame Daphne Duvalier. She was married to a French diplomat who, it seemed, had found his mistress more enchanting than his wife. She was a black eyed, raven haired gypsy of a woman and looked like she had some banked embers that might be easily stirred to life.

Then there was Countess Hildegard Von Mueller. Apparently the Count, who was still in his German castle, had wanted her right off the continent. She was a well endowed Nordic specimen with full lips. Even though she greeted me in perfect if accented English, I could not refrain from imaging what she would sound like moaning in German with me buried to the hilt in what I was sure would be a plump and matching blonde quim.

The remaining five were all English. Three married ladies and two younger misses. Two of the wives were matronly and a bit too long in the tooth to be of any interest to me but the third was attractive enough.

She was Mrs. Elizabeth Hart and a tiny thing she was. I recalled from her case file that she was committed for no reason save having become an inconvenience to her husband’s pursuit of young men. A head of lustrous brunette hair framed her heart shaped face and a timid smile displayed a set of small, white and very even teeth. She put me in mind of a shy little mink.

Each of the unwed young women was appealing in her way. Miss Bettina Miles was a short blonde of rosy complexion who seemed prone to giggle. She had been committed by her elder brother who claimed she suffered from fits of hysteria. Miss Cynthia Clark on the other hand was a tall, big boned girl who seemed very reserved. She wore her hair in a tight bun and her spectacles high on her nose. She was the sort I thought needed to be shaken loose and given a good mussing. Miss Clark had been remanded to Thorn Hill by an uncle who was the trustee of her deceased parents’ estate. She was supposedly delusional but I suspected her situation had more to do with her uncle plundering her trust fund.

All things considered they were a likely lot. Much nicer than I had expected and I foresaw a great deal of pleasure in the offing. As I made a few light and pleasant inquiries of each in turn, I was all the while considering which one to march down to my chamber and have my way with first. Before I could decide Matron reappeared.

“I’m very sorry, Doctor, but a gentleman and his daughter have arrived unexpectedly. Their appointment was a scheduled for fortnight away or I would have prepared you. He is Lord Railsworthy and he claims it is urgent.”

~~~~

They were waiting in the reception chamber. Lord Railsworthy had the bluff look of an outdoorsman. His daughter was a petite girl, sitting with downcast eyes. She looked up only long enough for me to observe that she had been weeping.

The man stood to take my extended hand. It was obvious that he was ill at ease with the nature of the moment. I opened the door adjoining my quarters and suggested that we leave his daughter in care of Matron Stern while we discussed matters in private.

When we were alone he looked around my chamber and the austere furnishings seemed to reassure him. Perhaps I would leave things as they were after all. I could always fit out another private room to my own more lavish tastes.

“And now, Sir, may I ask the nature of the difficulty?”

“It’s Susan…my daughter!” He burst out, “The damned gal is demented. She thinks she has fallen in love. For all I know she has already been indecent with the low born scoundrel.”

“I see.”

“She threatened to kill herself if I withheld my blessing. It is obvious she has lost her reason. I fear she might run off with the rascal. I won’t have such a blight on the family name.” He stated.

“That must not be allowed.” I agreed.

“Glad you see it so. Told the gal I’d see her in hell first. My first thought was a convent, but of course we are C of E and that is impossible. So I want you to take her. If you can cure her…fine…if not …well, she will just have to remain here. She is unmarriageable in her present state, so I have no alternative. I am doing the right thing, am I not?”

“She has left you no choice, Lord Railsworthy.” I assured him.” We shall do our best with her, Sir. You may count on that. No need for a cheque just now. Our bill will arrive to you monthly but there are some papers you must sign.”

He took the pen I offered him eagerly, as if anxious to be done with an unpleasant task. When we came out, the girl looked up. Lord Railsworthy refused to meet her eyes as he strode past her.

“Papa…” she called after him.

He hastened his step and refused to reply. The man closed the door on his daughter’s half asked plea. Susan’s head sank again and her shoulders shook with a fresh bout of quiet sobbing. Matron Stern stepped forward to comfort her.

“Our little Susan is to have her own room.” I said.

“Shall I get her settled into one then and explain our rules to her?”

“I shall personally explain the rules to her right now. You will remain in attendance. My own methods of dealing with confused women are quite different than those of my late uncle. You may as well learn how things will be handled henceforth.”

I moved to the girl and lifted her face with a finger under her chin. The damp pleading eyes made her look very appealing.

“You know why you are here, Susan?” I asked it in a mild tone.

“Yyesss...” She stammered, “But it’s a dreadful mistake. I’m not mentally ill…I am just in love and father is being quite beastly about it. Please help me convince him that I deserve my happiness. You’re a doctor …he might listen to you.”

As she spoke I undid the bow under her chin and drew off her bonnet. I moved around behind her and pulled the pins from her hair. It was a lustrous auburn in shade and shimmered like new red copper as it fell down over her shoulders. I let a few strands of it run through my fingers and she fell into an apprehensive silence at the familiarity. I took a handful and drew her head back slowly but firmly so that she was forced to stare up at me.

“Now you listen up, Susan…there has been no mistake. I know full well that you are not insane. What you are is a spoiled little bitch. One who thinks she knows better than her elders what is best for her.”

“But...”

I slapped her cheek sharply and from the corner of my eye saw Matron Stern start and gasp at my harshness.

“Silence!”

Fresh tears welled from the girl’s blue eyes but her mouth closed in obedience. I had frightened her.

“I am going to relieve you of all your foolish notions and set you to rights. Here you will learn to obey…and to please me. Any reluctance will be dealt with harshly.”

I released her head with a shove and moved to the settee where I settled with crossed legs. I saw that at home she’d had a lady’s maid for her dress buttoned up the back. She would find that her days as a pampered brat were over and done with.

“Stand up so that Matron may help you remove your clothing, Susan.”

Apparently not quite cowed, the stubborn little chit kept her place and shook her head at me. She turned her eyes imploringly to Matron Stern for support but a stern look from me quelled any protest from that quarter.

“I won’t bother explaining that I am a doctor, Susan, and that your modesty is misplaced. If I am forced to stand and fetch you up I promise you shall very much regret it.”

The threat in my voice was enough and slowly she stood.

“Turn your back to me, Susan, and you, Matron Stern, stand in front of her and reach around for her buttons.”

Both moved reluctantly but did as I ordered. As the long line of buttons was slowly released I found myself becoming aroused. I was finding that my newly acquired power was indeed very erotic. By the time the dress was drawn forward and dropped to the floor my cock was hard. Matron Stern guided her feet loose from it and then urging the girl’s arms up, drew off her chemise. It took a while unlacing the stays, but soon the girl’s smooth back was bare.

“Enough!” I said, “She can manage alone from here.”

Matron Stern backed off and moved to off to one side.

“No. Come over here, Matron, and sit beside me.”

Hesitantly, she did as bid and perched at my side on very edge of the settee, as if poised for instant flight. I took my time admiring my new patient’s display. Her backside, with her wearing only shoes, stockings and pantaloons, was very alluring.

“Down with your knickers now, Susan.”

The girl was shaking as she complied and pushed them down. As she stepped free of her last vestige of modesty. A rosy blush of embarrassment broke out the entire length of her backside as she stood trembling before us. With Susan well in hand, I decided it was time to set Matron Stern in her place.

“Isn’t she a delightful vision, Millicent?” I asked quietly.

“I would prefer you be more formal in your address Doctor Strong…and I feel I must say that I find your entire approach to our patients highly improper.”

I took her hand. She tried to draw it back but I tightened my grip and looked her directly in the eye and addressed her as one might a wayward child.

“Millicent…no…Millie is even better I think…you must consider carefully now. You have been here ever since your nurse’s training and have achieved a nice position. If I were to toss you out what would your prospects be? While not exactly old yet, you are too far along to begin all over. Alone…with no letter of reference…it would be a cold, cruel world that awaited you. Why…I doubt anyone would even have you as a domestic nurse…though I suppose you might eke out an existence in some scurvy hospital emptying bedpans.”

I watched her eyes as the implications of my threat sank in. Actually, with some luck, she might have found something better than I described but her existence had been insulated for so long that this sudden vision of an unknown future terrified her. I had been certain it would. She blinked at me.

“Do you take my meaning, Millie?”

She looked away and there was a lengthy silence as she weighed her wishes against her needs. Fear won out.

“Yes” she said at last.

“Good girl.” I said as I pulled her hand to my crotch, “Now, doesn’t Susan look delightful?”

“Yes…she does.”

Millie’s hand gave way to my urging and grasped my shaft through my trousers and I turned my attention back to my new ward.

“Move your legs apart for us, Susan.” I ordered.

She barely complied bringing just a peek of her crease and a tuft of coppery bush into view. I leaned back and drew Matron Millie with me. I noted contentedly that her hand remained at my flies.

“Wider, you balky little bitch, and bend forward! Reach back and hold that arse open” I barked.

Susan hastened to my harsh command like a stung animal and her cunt was then nicely on show along with the pink star of her arse pucker. She was literally trembling from fear and humiliation.

“Fish out my cock, Millie!” I hissed.

With only the slightest hesitation she got it out, albeit rather clumsily.

“Stroke it for me, Millie.”

There was another pause but then her warm hand curled around my prick and began its work. I smiled. There would be no need for a new Matron at Thorn Hill after all.

“Susan, you are here because you were a bad girl. Isn’t this true?” I demanded.

There was only a brief bit of a pause on her part before I perceived a nod of agreement. I smiled again as my Millie’s hand worked away at me.

“Tell me what a willful little bitch you have been, Susan.”

There was a faint mumble of assent from the trembling girl.

“Louder, you useless little cunt!” I screamed, “And keep repeating it!”

“I am a willful little bitch!” she yelled.

She shouted it again…and then again, until it became a mantra, and soon Matron Millie’s stroking picked up the rhythm of it. The humiliation of poor little Susan and her lewd display before me had their effect. I felt my legs stiffen and with no subtlety I seized the back of Millie’s neck and forced her face down to my throbbing cock.

“Open your bloody mouth!” I groaned.

I felt her lips part to my demand and I thrust up. Within seconds I was spewing my seed into my Matron’s tight, hot throat. It had been a long while since my last go and my spending was copious. I held her hard to me, despite her gagging, and felt her swallows massage my member. Not until I felt my self shrinking did I release her head.

Poor Millie’s eyes were rather glazed and her face was a mess. I gave her cheek a small pat of approval.

“Take the little bitch into my chamber. You will help me finish undressing her and then we will use her stockings to secure her wrists to the bed frame. I want her face down on my bed.”

As if coming out of a dream or trance, Millie nodded and stood up to take charge of our newest patient. As she led the distraught girl from the reception room to my private quarters, I smiled broadly. I felt I’d quite neatly brought down two birds at one pass.

~~~~

Although I had thought the girl thoroughly cowed to my will, the sight of the bed had so terrified her that she had put up quite a struggle. It had taken the pair of us to finish stripping her and get her wrists and ankles tethered to the bed’s corners. Her sobbing had finally rattled to a halt and then she lay with her face buried in the coverlet, spread and bare, awaiting my pleasure.

Having spent once, I was in no hurry. I lit a quality cigar and poured a snifter of brandy to recharge myself for a second go. Matron Millie finally made so bold as to ask whether I would have further need of her or if she might be excused. After she had helped me subdue and secure my little Susan I had kept her standing by in silence just to toy with her.

“Yes. You may go about your rounds. This little bitch will be spending the night with me. Her first night at Thorn Hill needs to be a memorable one. I’ll send for you in the morning to come and fetch her.”

I watched Millie depart and the heart shape of her arse decided me that I would need to give my newly tamed Matron a hard ride over the jumps soon. When the door closed behind her I spun my attention back to the fun at hand.

It really would not do to ever again face the sort of fuss little Susan had made. Balky bitches would not be tolerated at Thorn Hill. I determined right then that any woman who attracted my interest would be broken to the bit completely right from the start. I studied Susan’s naked form for inspiration.

My eyes ran along the long curve of her spine to the twin dimples just above her arse and then down the shapely legs to her dainty feet. Ah yes, her pretty feet brought to mind what I had read of falaka and bastinado. I had no doubt that a few sharp touches to her tenders would improve her attitude in short order. I was in need of an implement and a brief search about produced a wooden rule that I felt would serve well enough.

“Susan, I warned you but you have insisted on being difficult. Since words are not enough you leave me no alternative but make a lasting impression on you.”

I spoke to her very gently. She made no answer but a tremor of fear ran the length of her. I moved to the bed and passed a finger along the arch of her left foot causing a nervous jerk at its restraint. I grasped her ankle and holding it fast, tickled the soft sole with the edge of the rule. She had delicate, well cared for feet with adorable little pink toes.  I watched her tense and writhe in response. I drew back the rule and waited for her to relax again. No sooner was she still than I brought the flat hardwood down sharply across the bottom of her trapped foot.

Her scream of pain was shrill and filled the room. I waited for her shaking to subside a bit and then grasped her other ankle. She knew what was coming now and began pleading for mercy.

“Oh no, my little bitch.” I said mildly, “You must have a large enough dose of this medicine to cure your balkiness once and forever.”

The slash to her right foot tore an even more agonized shriek from her. I worked slowly back and forth, from foot to foot, punctuating each stroke with a bit of verbal conditioning.

THWACK!

“You will obey me.”

THWACK!

“You will do as you are told.”

I paid little heed to her sobbed responses but kept at the task. By the time she had received a dozen Susan was babbling and begging and I felt I had made a believer of her. When I released her ankles from their ties she drew her shaking knees up under her.

Taking hold of her golden tresses I turned her tear stained face to me and looked deeply into her welling blue eyes. I then asked her the simplest of questions.

“You will try hard to please me now, won’t you, Susan?”

“Yes…yes sir, I will. I promise I will.”

“I am so glad, because if you backslide your second lesson will be ever so much more severe, Susan.”

“No...Please…I swear I shall please, sir.”

“That’s a good girl then. Now, get your bottom up in the air for me.”

With some trepidation she complied. The poor dear probably feared I intended taking the rule to her satiny bum as well. She needn’t have worried. At least not about that, my cock was up again and it was the heat inside her I was after.

“Higher and knees farther apart! …That’s it…that’s just what I want.”

Susan was shivering like a nerved up mare. I fingered open the lips of her cunt and found her dry. As I probed a bit deeper for some moisture I found to my delight that the girl was still intact. It seems her papa had ill suspected her. She had not given herself to her lowborn sod of a lover after all.

I wetted my weapon with a gob of spittle and pressed its tip into her tight little purse. My intent was obvious to her then and the feel of me fetched a start and a moan of apprehension from her but I muckled on to her hips and steadied myself in place.

I pulled her back hard as I plunged and broke through her maidenhood with a single shove. She gave out a short whimper and a few bucks but I held fast until she settled and then began stroking in and out of her sweet, tight heat.

She was a trifle too passive for my taste so I reached up two fistfuls of her shining tresses and began yanking in time to my thrusts. With the reins of her hair pulled tight I soon had her squealing and posting back and forth to my rhythm.

I said a silent thank you to Lord Railsworthy for serving me up such a treat and gave my mind over to the moment. When I felt the surge start I pulled out and sprayed my spunk across her backside.

Once untied, a few slaps had young Susan’s mouth open and sucking the red tinge from my relaxing cock. Looking down upon her as she applied herself to my wishes I thought of the days and nights ahead with a deal of smug satisfaction. Not only had my acquisition of Thorn Hill brought me wealth and an outlet for my lust, it had given me absolute power within its confines.

As the night wore on I exhausted poor Susan. Not to be a complete beast, I even taught her how to garner a bit of pleasure for herself. By dawn, the once chaste and spoiled little aristocrat had learned to fuck and suck like the harlot I’d made of her.

The following morning I had Millie escort a very docile Susan to her room. When she returned I had her round up the staff and gave them a brief little talk.  The crux of my speech was that they were to carry on as before until Matron informed them of any changes I deemed desirable.

When they had filed out I told her to sack the lot one at a time. They were far too professional for the new order I intended to impose.

“But Doctor how shall we get on without them? And what shall I tell them?”

“Tell them I prefer to work with my own staff. Give each of them a month’s wages and a good reference so they don’t take it so hard. The cook and that homely maid that has been serving my meals are no loss anyway. I shall bring in a new pair of nurses for you as well as several male attendants.”

“What of the cleaning?”

“As for that…those bitches in the dormitory will be put to work. It will save on expenses. No reason for them to loll about doing therapeutic needlework when there is real labour at hand.”

To act as nurses I had decided to bring in a couple of midwives I’d had dealings with in the city. They had done abortions for whores there so I knew they would stay mum. As for the gate and grounds…I would import a few down and out foreign brutes. They would keep to themselves and be simple enough to do my bidding without question.

Millie next showed me the stables. The groom and stable boy were both of the bowing and scraping sort so I told her they could remain in their positions. They were out in the paddock giving the horses a wash so when I suddenly took it into my head to have a go at Millie right there in the tack room there was nobody to bother about.

Her back was to me and I suppose it was that heart shaped arse that set me off. I spied a crop hanging from a hook and armed myself with it. The smack across her rump brought a sharp squawk of surprise.

“Bend over this saddle,” I demanded, “I’ve waited long enough to sample your wares, Millie.”

I saw a flare of revolt in her eyes but by then she had seen enough of me to know I would brook no refusal. She folded herself over the saddle and I quickly had her starched skirt up and over her head and her chemise bunched at the waist. I wasted no time on niceties but rather ripped open the rear seam of her knickers.

Oh what a splendid arse the woman had. I gave it a couple of strokes with the crop just to watch its cheeks jump. She bit back her cries, doubtless to avoid the embarrassment of bringing the groom to the scene. I could have cared less; I rammed into her and fucked with a will. Her cunt was snug and a tad dry at first but it soon juiced up and made me more welcome. When I felt her rearing back onto me and heard her mewling in pleasure I knew that despite her airs my prim Matron had lust in her heart.

We actually reached our cum together and then fell in a sweaty tangle onto a pile hay. She then surprised me by savagely attacking my mouth with a deep and hungry kiss. It appeared that I had tapped a dormant volcano.

“It seems your cunt is not the innocent thing you have pretended, Millie. Was my dear departed uncle making use of this hot twat you’ve been hiding?”

“Heavens no! When I was younger I was foolish enough to believe a promise of marriage. But the bounder ran off after he’d gotten what he was after. Only that once is all I’ve ever known. It was clumsy and painful and I was just grateful not to have been left pregnant.”

“But you had quite the fierce cum this time. You know now, Millie, what you’ve been missing…don’t you?” I demanded.

“Yes…I…it was…” She broke off with a guilty smile.

I pulled her to me and cut off any further talk with a hot kiss and we were at it again. This time she was wet and warm below decks and her legs were soon wrapped around me. Her heels dug into my arse, prodding me on, as she bucked up to meet each thrust. In short order she shuddered under me and groaned in pleasure.

After this second more mutual round, we made ourselves presentable and walked out through the stable yard as if only equestrian matters had been discussed. The groom and his boy tipped their hats to our passing. Apparently no sound of our frantic fuck bouts had escaped the stalls. Matron Millie was smiling for the first time since I had met her.

I presided at the head of the table during the noon meal. I found I quite enjoyed playing master of the manor. There was no small talk at the staff table and any conversation amongst the patients was whispered. I ate in silent rectitude and cast stern looks at any I found sneaking glances my way. It was a fine charade, my seemingly pious correctness at the head of what amounted to a gathering of my harem and vassals.

~~~~

Over the following days I put things to more to my liking. I took over a vacant room on the second floor of the south wing so that the resident women’s rooms would be handy just along my hall. The opulent bed, plush drapes and Heriz carpet that arrived were a far cry from the spare quarters below and it was there I began taking my leisure and pleasure.

I brought over a chef from France who spoke no English and soon one of the prettiest young women from the dormitory was providing my room service. The little tart knew better than to voice any objection to my fondling as she served excellent late breakfasts. In short order I trained the girl to wait while I ate and then assist in my bathing and dressing. She became more than eager to please and soon things had progressed to where if I awoke randy I might relieve the tension in her hot willing mouth or eager clasping cunt. Life was indeed vastly improved.

My morning routine was not taxing. I had taken to carrying a thin birch rod on my rounds. I would first inspect the bitches in the north wing following their exercise. Groping and humiliating them always improved my mood. I’d had a rope and pulley set into the ceiling of the dormitory and if any had been acting up I meted out discipline. With the rope binding their wrists I would haul them up onto their toes and birch them soundly while their sisters in captivity were made to watch. This invariably aroused me to the point where I would send the rest off to their showers while I kept the miscreant back and fucked her senseless. Instances of misbehaviour became rare in short order so I would often have to invent some pretext for punishment.

One might well wonder that I had the energy to keep up with it all, what with the use of my serving girl and Millie now eager for any time I allowed her. The truth was that my libido seemed to thrive on excess. Here I was having regular sessions with my Matron and maid, not to mention little Susan and the dormitory shags, yet I soon began working my way through the other ladies in my charge.

It was just after a bawdy evening session of fucking with Millie in my new digs that I ordered her to bring me the French cunt.

I had at first been crude of speech because it had amused me to shock Millie but she had soon become immune to my coarse language. My own appetites seemed to have infected her and she’d grown increasingly wanton. Her surprising response to my demand confirmed what I suspected.

“When I’ve brought her to you…may I stay?”

“To what end?” I asked

“To help you break her… like you did Susan.” she said

“I’ll let you know when your presence is desired. If I am any judge of women, I suspect our Madame Duvalier will need very little persuasion.” I said.

.“Yes, Stephen...I ‘m sorry …I mean yes, Doctor.”

I raised an eyebrow at this familiarity. Ever since our first coupling amidst the hay Millie had grown increasingly eager to please, even flirtatious upon occasion. Perhaps she was harbouring some vain hope that my fondness for her might lead to something more than I intended. As she left I decided that she might be taking too much for granted and that a hint of the birch would be required for her shortly. I poured some brandy and had just settled myself amidst the pillows when the there was a soft knock.

“Enter.”

Daphne Duvalier came in alone and closed the door behind her. She was wearing bright red robe of Turkish wool that set off her dark beauty.

“You know why I have sent for you?”

My query was posed quietly and her response was delivered with a suggestive smirk.

“I have heard the rumours about you.”

“Oh? And what are the rumours?” I asked.

“That you are a goat.”

It was stated flatly with no hint of dismay or anxiety. Looking at her I somehow got the distinct impression that beneath her colourful robe she wore nothing and that she had come to me this way on purpose.

“And…” I let the question hang.

“And I hope it is true.”

As she said this, she allowed the robe to slip from her shoulders revealing that my guess had been correct. Her breasts were like full, ripe pears and her thick nipples stood out dark and hard. At the apex of her full thighs a dark bush beckoned. I was so lost in admiration that I made no reply.

“I need a goat.” She said into my silence.

I crooked a finger at her and she came to me. I gave her thigh a light slap and she parted her legs willingly. Instantly the musk of her need wafted out at me. I seized her hips and pulled her sex to my tongue. At the first probe she let out a loud needy moan and then a plea in French.

“Ahhh… oui…mon cher Docteur, mangent ma chatte.”

I lapped at her sopping sex as if it were a juicy mango. Suddenly she could wait no longer and leaped astride me reaching frantically until she got my cock up inside her hungry cunt. There was no finesse our coupling, it was pure animalistic rutting. The harder I thrust up at her the more forcefully she drove down upon me. A desperate long denied desire in her was finally slaking itself. She came with a monstrous tremor that took me rocketing along with her.

When we at last fell apart, she worked her head down onto my belly and lapped at my sticky spent member as might a kitten at the milky remnants of a treat. There was no rest that evening. Madame Duvalier worked all her guiles to awaken fresh hungers in me. Seldom had any woman made me cry ‘Hold…enough!’ but by the time the grey light of dawn edged the drapes, my prick had been worn raw and my balls were naught but drained husks. Somewhere back along her distinguished pedigree a mongrel gypsy had certainly made a sly deposit. I finally beat her off to her room and limped to the bed pan for a tender piss. .

~~~~

The following morning my little maid flaunted her charms at me whilst I bathed but I was still too sated to be in the least tempted. When she left with the tray she was pouting.

Each time I had birched one of the dormitory women who had misbehaved I’d developed a wild erection. I could only deduce that thrashing them must have awakened some latent sadistic tendencies in me. I remembered certain low establishments I’d had occasion to frequent in the city. Places which catered to that sort of thing and decided that a short return trip was in order.

I’d wondered if upon revisiting city life I might find that I missed all of its hustle and bustle. The contrary proved true. I found that my only urge was to return to my new fiefdom. The whores I had once so freely indulged in were pathetic things compared to my recently acquired harem and the ladies I passed in the streets seldom turned my head. I knew only too well that any one of them might easily be dragged across my threshold someday.

In short order I acquired the items I sought. When I climbed aboard the train for the trip back my new valise bulged with fur lined restraints, a variety of floggers, anal plugs, chained clamps and sponge gags. I was by chance seated facing a smiling nun.  As I made small pleasantries with her I had to secretly laugh. If only she knew that she was discussing the weather with an evil parody of Saint Nicholas en route back to his captive elves.

~~~~

Once home and refreshed from my journey I had ordered Millie to bring me the German. Once Countess Hildegard and I were alone, she made no complaint when I demanded she disrobe. She did it hastily and then surprised me by falling to her knees and crawling to me. To my amazement she began licking and kissing my slippers, stopping only to occasionally look up with pleading eyes. She then implored me in both German and English.

“Seien Sie bitte mein Meister. Peitschen Sie und schlagen Sie mich wie ein sklave…be my Master…beat, whip and use me, Herr Doktor!” she begged.

A few brief questions elicited the fact that it was exactly this craving for abuse that had driven her mild mannered German Count to send her away. She was in short a voracious pain slut. My duty was plain and what with the bag of tricks I had brought back from my trip, I was well prepared for her. I soon had her secured in leather cuffs and spread eagled face down on the bed. I knew this would be more than a mere birching so I employed one of my new sponge gags lest she rouse the dead with her screams.

I stood to her left and drew back with my slim rod. With a smart sounding THWACK! I laid a bright red welt diagonally across her shoulder blades. To my surprise there was no muffled scream. In its stead came a sensual groan and a quiver of her hips as though she was cumming. Fascinated, I laid on another just below it and got the same result. So it went as I worked my way down all the way to her ankles. I paused there thinking more might do too much harm. She was trying to talk so I pulled the sponge away from her mouth and leaned down to her.

“More.” She croaked.

I pushed the gag back in her mouth, moved to the far side of the bed and recocked my magic wand.

THWACK!

THWACK!

THWACK!

One after another I laid on descending stripes until a fiery diamond pattern of welts covered her from neck to foot. All the while she had writhed in ecstasy. My exertions had brought up a sheen of perspiration over my own naked form by the time I released her.

“Danke! Danke! ...Thank you, Herr Doktor!”

Mere words of gratitude did not satisfy her, however. Inch by inch she licked the sweat from me. Kissing and murmuring as she went. She declared that she must have my cum in her belly and with that she finally reached my raging cock. With no urging she drove her lips down hard against my pelvic bone, taking the length of me in her throat. She worked the soft cavern of her mouth back and forth hungrily, slavering on me until I erupted.

Each time I took her that night she thanked me. Nothing I demanded was too depraved for her. Had I handed her a cricket bat she would gladly have impaled herself with it. When I finally lay back, dulled by my excesses, the Countess begged me to keep her on the floor chained to my bed. I assured her that she would bear the brunt of any of my frustrations but that she must return to her own room. She left in tears.

~~~~

It had become my practice to take a stroll around the grounds following the heavy noon meal. A portion of the dormant garden consisted of a fanciful maze of tall hedges. At its center was a meditation bench. It was there that I chanced upon Mrs. Elizabeth Hart. She was bundled up against the cold air and reading from a volume of poetry. She smiled upon seeing me.

“Ah Doctor Strong, this is most helpful.” She said.

“Helpful in what manner, Mrs. Hart?” I asked as I sat down beside her.

“Well, I have been hoping to speak privately. I was going to ask Matron for an appointment with you.”

“To discuss your case I suppose.”

“Yes. You see your uncle, God rest his soul, gave me regular therapy to cure my condition. I don’t mean to complain but I had hoped you might carry on. I should like very much to be deemed cured and returned home.”

“And what exactly did my dear late uncle tell you your problem was?”

“He believed that I suffer from sexual frigidity.”

“And what did this therapy consist of?”

“He would encourage me to talk about my lack of response and what he called my unnatural modesty. He said by bringing my repressions out into the open that I might eventually overcome them.”

“Yes, that sounds just like the self-serving old fraud. I shall tell you the truth though.”

“The truth?”  She echoed innocently.

“Yes, the truth and nothing but the bloody truth is what I dispense. You are here because your husband prefers buggering pretty young fellows and having you as a wife became a nuisance to him.”

She recoiled from the truth as if I’d slapped her and rose to run off. I was up and seized her before she made two strides though. I tossed away her volume of verse and threw her tiny form face down over the bench. I ignored her squeals of protest and pinned her there with a foot on the small of her back.

“As for your supposed frigidity…I shall cure that right now, Lizzie, my little cunt.”

I flipped up her heavy clothing and wadded it beneath my boot as well. I dragged her knickers to her knees, baring her tight little bottom to the cold air. I admired the gooseflesh that sprang up for a brief moment and then lit into her with my ever ready rod. I didn’t give it to her overly hard. Just enough to let her know I would brook no disobedience

“Oh please, Doctor, I beg of you! No more. It stings like fire!”

“You’ll stay put then will you, Lizzie?” I demanded.

“Yes, yes, just please no more fire on my poor bum.”

Confident of her then, I laid aside the birch. I began fingering her lightly. The little mink was already moist in the purse. So much for her being frigid.

“Oh…oh my…that’s…”

“You like that eh, do you, Lizzie?”

Ahh…it tingles.” She gasped

I ran first one and then a second finger up her. She had a clenched, underused cunt but it was flooding fast and when I found her spot she let out a moan of pleasure. Once she began to quiver I started strumming her happy button and gave the shy bitch her first cum. She let out a sharp cry of surprise at the pleasure of it and then drooped across the bench panting out little oohs and ahs and thank yous and suchlike.

It was time for my fun then. Her bare arse was so invitingly displayed that I determined to have a go at her backdoor.

I slicked up a thick finger with a gathering of her spendings and worked into the wrinkled little star of her anus.

“OH MY GOODNESS! What is that? OWWW! No not there, please.”

I ignored all that blather and worked at stretching her virgin bottom hole while I fished out my stiff cock. I quickly substituted it for my finger. She groaned loudly as I pushed forward. Ever so slowly I forced the head of it past her tiny ring and slid in to the hilt. Her rectum felt like a hot, snug glove.

“Your husband is a fool. I fancy none of his bumboys has anything half so sweet.” I told her. “Now relax and move with me.”

I helped her with the pain by diddling her clit some more and soon she did begin to relax. Once I heard the pleasure sounds again I began stroking and by the time I shot my seed up her heated bunghole she was in the throes of a second cum.

She stayed bare bottom up and sprawled as I did up my clothing.

“You won’t be leaving Thorn Hill, Lizzie but your condition is quite cured.” I laughed.

The bemused expression this occasioned coupled with the sight of my spunk leaking from her arsehole was too precious. I reached down and retrieved her book. I saw to my surprise that it was a rather bawdy collection by Robbie Burns with which I had some familiarity. Perhaps she had been trying to unthaw her imaginary frigidity with naughty verse. I chose what seemed, save for the difference in season, an apt passage and handed it to her.

Jenny Macraw on a midsummer morn,

She cut off her cunt and hang’t on a thorn;

There she let it hang for a year and a day,

But, oh how I leuked her erse when her cunt was awa.

Laughing at her fresh blush, I left Lizzie there to gather her faculties and find her own way out of the maze.

~~~~

It has been said that power without principle breeds excess and principled behaviour was never my strong suit. With all of my late uncle’s old retainers gone and my own less than reputable staff in place I no longer felt constrained to act out any further charade of decency. With so many powerless women in my thrall, I was not only like a rutting bull running amok, I began to take increasing pleasure from inflicting pain and humiliation on them.

The doses of discipline I handed out became less discreet. I frequently would birch the bare bottom of any that failed to please me on the spot. If there happened to be an audience to their embarrassment, so much the better. Soon it was such that when I made my daily rounds a mere wave of my rod or the cast of a cold eye was enough to lower the gaze of either staff or patients.

Feeling my absolute authority had become established beyond question, I was both amazed and amused when it was challenged over a matter of liver and onions.

In the refectory the two patient’s tables were placed at right angles to the staff table which had chairs along only its far side. This was so that nurses and attendants could monitor what went on during meals. At one of the patient’s tables sat the dormitory lot and at the other the private room women.

Naturally, the dishes served the staff were of a higher order than those I allowed the patients. I couldn’t cut into my profits after all. Plain sustenance was good enough for them, but even with that the fare was a cut above what they had previously been provided. The soup bowls had just been removed and the main course served when Bettina Miles stood at her table and addressed me.

“Excuse me Dr. Strong but might I make a small request?”

“Here?” I asked, “During the meal?”

“Well, Doctor, you see…it is about the meal…I…I…” she stammered.

Her fair face got very red and she trailed off under my cold stare. I think she would have left off and sat back down but then Miss Clark jumped up as well.

“Oh for pity sakes, Bette, just tell him we can’t stand bloody liver and onions!” She blurted.

My first thought was to bend the pair of them over their chairs and thrash them then and there but something more suitable occurred to me.

“I am very sorry to hear that today’s menu does not appeal to you young ladies. As everyone is aware, I have gone to some trouble to improve the fare at Thorn Hill.” I said.

“Oh, Doctor, it’s really much better except for the liver…” Miss Miles began.

“I’ll hear no more now. I guarantee your next meal will be vastly different. You may both be excused now. Go and wait for me in the hall outside my room.”

“But, Doctor…” Miss Clark started to object, knowing there was now a caning in store for them.

“Now!” I ordered.

With heads down, they meekly departed and the rest of the diners returned their attention to the liver and onions with apparent enthusiasm. After the meal I told Matron Millie that I would require her assistance for a disciplinary session. She seemed very pleased to be included. Ah what a change time had wrought.

I had been meaning to get around to the young Misses Miles and Clark in any case. Their silly little complaint was the perfect pretext. We found them waiting outside my door as instructed. Once inside I told them to disrobe. Plump little Bettina’s hands went meekly to her buttons but her friend Cynthia reached out and stayed them.

“Doctor, I have seen several examples of your beastly discipline. We shan’t be caned for voicing a perfectly reasonable objection to a meal we found unpalatable.”

She stated.

“You think not?” I countered and motioned for Matron Millie to take hold of her.

Millie had learned over the years how to subdue unruly patients but the big girl put up quite a struggle before a choke hold and a twisted arm settled her.

Although Bettina had remained docile enough, I decided that both could be dealt with far more simply if they were rendered unconscious for a time. A cloth and bottle of ether soon had the two young ladies slumped on the carpet. Amongst my newly acquired equipage were two sets of human hobbles. These were wrist and ankle cuffs that were joined by an arrangement of slender chains. Once hobbled the wearer could move only by crawling or if on her feet by waddling along bent over.

When in time they came groggily around, the girls found they were naked and helplessly hobbled. I was pleased to note that the whole business had brought a heated flush to my Matron’s face.

“Poor Millie, even though the room is cool you are perspiring. Take your clothes off. I intend to put you to work here and hot work it will be, breaking this pair of whining bitches.”

She nodded and made haste to get out of her uniform. My words sent a visible shiver through the girls at our feet. It was obvious that the tableau of our two trapped and trembling victims was arousing my Millie. Once she had stepped free of her pantaloons I moved up behind her and ran an exploratory hand down between her thighs. Her cunt was swampy. She gave a little moan as I licked up the nape of her neck to her ear and whispered.

“I’m going to leave this to you. I expect you to have them crawling and begging to eat any slop they are served from now on. Can you do this for me, Millie?”

As I was leaning to her ear I had been diddling her sopping hole and all she could manage was a nod and another little moan. Satisfied I stepped back and handed her my birch.

I turned away to my dresser to make myself more comfortable. In the mirror I saw Mille standing motionless behind me as I took off my jacket and shirt. Then I saw the rod come up and slash down. The swish of its descent and the SLAP! of its impact was followed by a delightfully shrill scream.

“Up! Get up onto your hands and knees, you bitches!” She ordered them.

Oh yes, my Millie was well into it. I finished undressing and then covered my nudity against the chill with a silk dressing gown and poured a cognac. As I settled into an easy chair to enjoy the entertainment I saw that Mille had gotten the pair of them up and crawling jerkily along in a circle around her. The slightest pause from either girl brought a sting to their arses from the tip of the birch.

It was like an erotic circus act with Millie as ring mistress. Round and round they went, blubbering for mercy as their haunches jiggled and grew redder with each sting of the rod.

“Faster!’ I called, “I want the sweat running off their teats, Millie.”

In response the rod rose and fell without pause, first on one rump and then the other. I soon saw that she was far from merely carrying out my wishes but was becoming excited at wielding my rod. By the time I called a halt to it Millie’s tits were heaving from her exertions and she was licking her lips like a hungry she wolf. As for the two young bitches she had so gleefully abused…the Persian carpet had worn their knees raw and their heads were hanging in exhaustion. Sweat was indeed dripping from their nipples and their thighs were twitching with fatigue.

The whole show had made me randier than a great Dall ram. Ignoring the broken girls, I brushed the rod from Millie’s hand and pushed her down onto the carpet where I kicked her legs wide and fell to my knees between them...

“Oh fuck yes, fuck me!” she yelled as I buried my cock in her.

She rocked up to meet my thrusts and her heels beat a tattoo on my arse driving me on. We fucked each other as if we were spending our last living moments. My cum when it erupted was a torrent and Mille squirted so hard I thought she’d pissed us. We clung to one another to ease our pounding hearts. When I finally rolled onto my back with a sigh of satisfaction Millie began lapping her way down my belly.

“Let me clean you.” She murmured

“No. Bettina will do that while Cynthia swabs you out with her tongue.”

“I’ve often wondered …” she trailed off.

“You mean you’ve never had your cunt sucked?”  I asked in amazement. “Or do you mean never by another woman?”

“Never…at all…by anyone.”

“It is high time then…and if you like it…you may have any bitch in Thorn Hill service you when ever you please. You may consider it a privilege in lieu of a rise in salary.” I laughed.

Pulling her back up, I reached over to where my birch rod lay. I quickly laid a bright new signature on each girl’s arse. The strokes were harder than any Millie had given them and fetched cries of pain from them that were an octave shriller than they had been.

“You bitches get your tongue rags round here to clean us before I make your bums bleed.” I ordered.

With clumsy haste they crawled round between our outstretched limbs only to look with confusion at our glistening crotches. I seized Cynthia by the hair and yanked her face into Millie’s cunt.

“Suck my leavings out of her and then she had best have another cum from your efforts or you’ll be for it.” I ordered.

I then slapped Bettina’s mouth open and pulled it down over my half rigid cock using her ears as handles. The plump little bitch began sucking and working her tongue like she was born to it. As I enjoyed her efforts I glanced over and saw Millie’s hands clenched in Cynthia’s hair. Her head was back in pleasure and she was soon humping her clit against the girl’s nose. I had no doubt that many of our patients would soon become familiar with the smell and taste of their Matron’s cunt.

Before we were done they had both serviced Millie with their tired tongues and I had fucked and buggered the pair of them. At last, totally spent, Millie and I slept together in my bed that night with the two bitches left exhausted on the floor.

~~~~

When everyone entered the refectory for dinner the following day they were met with a cautionary spectacle. Cynthia and Bettina, still naked and in hobbles, were in the center of the room on hands and knees. Each had a string looped around their necks from which hung a slab of raw liver. The green tops of the garden onions that had been forced past their sphincters protruded from their arses like green tails. On the floor before each was a bowl of chopped raw liver and onions.

Once all were seated, I spoke a rather ironic grace imploring that all present be truly grateful for their daily fare and then, as was the custom, declared that all might dine. The previous night’s work had not been in vain for, as the rest of us took up knife and fork, the two bitches promptly lowered their heads to their bowls.

The furtive looks cast at the pair by both my new staff and the patients varied. They ranged from shock and pity to disgust and lust but the message was clear to all. There was never another word of complaint over the fare served at Thorn Hill and thus ended our little food rebellion.

~~~~

The women from the dormitory had been put to work as I’d ordered and after some severe training and a few thrashings they took to their new chores with a will. As a further economy I did away with their clothing. They looked much more pleasing scurrying about wearing only the locked dog collars I had decreed. The collars also made them so much easier to lead about or tether in place. Not being a complete beast, I allowed them each a sack like garment of burlap for those times that their duties took them out into the winter chill.

It had also come to pass that during my daily dormitory inspections I would sometimes have the lot of them about-face and bend over the foot of their beds. It was an entertaining sight…those two rows of thrust out arses. One to either side of me and it was very pleasant to stroll along, running my cock into one woman after the other, in search of that day’s tightest cunt or bunghole.

One might have thought that so many women would have been more difficult to subdue and control but such was not the case. Their time at Thorn Hill before I arrived had already done much to weaken their self-esteem and condition them to submissiveness. Not only was I able to bend them completely to my will but I soon found the bitches vying with one another for my attention.

The pretty, big titted one I’d had to spank into obedience that first day in the showers was a prime example. Her name I found out was Victoria and she had been trained to replace the scullery maid. Anytime my wanderings happened to cross her path I found her batting her eyes at me and adding a wiggle to her now bare bottom when she walked. Any time I gave it a light swat with my birch she would merely blush and giggle, seemingly pleased at having been noticed.

I was passing through the kitchen one afternoon when I noticed Victoria at the sink. The vigourous scrubbing she was giving a large pot had her big boobies all a bouncing and her round arse jiggling. On an instant’s impulse I had dragged her into the pantry for a quick shag. I was bollocks deep in her cunt and going at it hot and heavy when she surprised me with a panted request.

“Please, Doctor…your spunk…”

“You want it… do you…eh, bitch?” I muttered between thrusts. “Well...it’s on the way!”

“Yes…but in my mouth, please, Doctor…I crave the taste of it.” She gasped.

I was pleased enough to grant her wish and pulled out and spun her about. In a flash she was on her knees and swallowing up my slick, shiny rod. Loud, wet smacking and gobbling sounds rose to my ears as she worked enthusiastically to suck the cream up from my balls. When at last my cum boiled up and spurted down her throat I let out a loud shout of relief. The noise was enough to alarm our new French cook and bring him from his ovens to investigate. Upon opening the pantry door and he found me with my trousers about my ankles and my cock still buried down Victoria’s gullet.

“Ah, mon Dieu!” he cried in embarrassment.

He made to apologize and leave but I stayed him. I smiled and patted him on the shoulder as I pulled my slimy and then limp cock from her drooling lips. I retrieved my fallen trousers as casually as if I were merely departing a public loo after a particularly satisfying piss.

“Now, Pierre, don’t fret. The fact is that this big bottomed bitch has an appetite for men’s cum… so I want you to get your Gallic arse in here and cook her up a second helping. She can add keeping you happy to her other kitchen duties.”

I had to translate my wishes to French before he grinned in comprehension. After all, I reasoned to myself, a happy cook would make the cuisine even better. I left with Pierre wearing a rather bemused smile at his sudden good fortune and busty little Victoria still down on her knees slurping away for all she was worth.

~~~~

I had told Millie that next to mine her authority was complete. I soon discovered that my Matron had indeed begun amusing herself with some of the patients and in a manner rather more extreme than I had expected.

The women of the dormitory were out at their exercise and I had been prowling through their personal effects just to see if any secrets of interest were being kept from me. I found nothing terribly intriguing. A few of them kept diaries. There were sporadic entries wherein forlorn hopes of eventual freedom from Thorn Hill were set down. Surprisingly, I found nothing written in any detail with regard to my own depredations among them. Perhaps they were too ashamed of having been used to relive the events by setting down any thing explicit. Or perhaps they suspected I would be snooping. A pity it was as I should have enjoyed knowing their intimate feelings.

As I was leaving the dormitory I happened to glance across the vestibule at the locked door of the crazy ward. For the most part I had ignored the truly deranged women who were kept locked away on the third floor of the north wing. I was sure that all of their ranting, raving and nonsensical gibberish would depress me. On a whim, however, I decided to have a peek into their cages.

Once in the corridor, I peered through the slit of the first cell. There was Lady Marston with her wrinkled old back to me, kneeling nude in a corner. Still praying to her imaginary Saint I supposed. For a bare instant I toyed with the idea of throwing a fast fuck into the old bag as a novelty but I passed on with a little head shake of amused disgust at myself.

I made my way along, peeping in at one deranged bitch after another until at the cell of our little Thelma Wixom, the recalcitrant eater, I came upon a surprise. Inside with her was my Matron. My darling Millie had the nude young woman tied face up on the cot and was standing over her with a crop. A pillow had been placed under her back so that her skinny teats were thrust up. I noticed that they appeared reddened and soon saw why. With great precision Mille snapped the tip of the crop down on one nipple and then, ignoring the squeal of pain, gave the other the same treatment.

My first thought was that my Millie had developed a sadistic streak to rival my own but as I listened she surprised me again.

“Now Thelma, will you eat all your meals in future?”

“Oh yes, Matron…I truly promise…but please…no more on my poor nipples!”

“And there will be further self-induced retching?”

“No, Matron. I promise I’ll be good for you!”

I had to stifle a laugh lest I be discovered. I quietly made my way off shaking my head in amusement. It seemed there was more curative power in Millie’s crop than in any notions my late uncle had employed with little Thelma. My Matron it seemed would fatten or heal them by bringing them to heel.

~~~~

Just as I was beginning to feel rather jaded my mood was excited by the arrival of a new and delicious bit of crumpet. Miss Diane Wheatley was another victim of fate. Her wealthy parents had perished at sea in a yachting mishap while she was still a child. Unfortunately for her the only surviving adult relative was a conniving female cousin. The estate and the child had been given over in trust to this woman. As the girl approached her majority it occurred to her wily guardian that she would soon lose control of little Diane’s inheritance. With the complicity of a bent solicitor some supposedly psychotic incidents were contrived and the girl’s eighteenth birthday present was a declaration of mental incompetence and a trip to Thorn Hill.

Within an hour the solicitor and his oily smile had departed and the young beauty Diane was all mine. She was the most delectable creature I had ever laid eyes on. A veritable blond angel. With one finger under her chin I raised her face for a close inspection. Her hair was not merely blond, it was like fine spun gold that caught and held the light. Her deep blue eyes were anxious and moist but she was bravely holding back any tears while a perfect set of small white teeth nervously bit a rather pouty and sensual lower lip. A very faint dusting of freckles crossed the bridge of a pert nose and set off the roses in her cheeks, but otherwise her complexion was one of classic English cream.

I was dying to unwrap this sudden gift from the gods and see what further delights she had to display. The sight of her so aroused me that I had half a mind to take her then and there…but such a treat needed to be savoured. Fortunately, I had spent my seed once with the maid upon waking and then again when with a spontaneous shag during the course of my dormitory inspection. I was, therefore, sated enough to control myself. It would have a waste to devour this new mouse without a bit of play.

The long silence and my intent stare must have unnerved her for she lost the battle to control her welling eyes and a single tear ran down her cheek. I took my finger from her chin and caught the droplet in mid slide. The girl’s eyes widened as I licked the damp tip of my finger and enjoyed my first tiny taste of her salt.

The girl had remained surprisingly quiet. None of the fearful questions or dramatic pleading I’d expected. Even though Millie was standing by to assist, I remembered the struggle we’d had with little Susan when she’d first arrived and decided that a brief sedation would make things go ever so much more smoothly.

“Matron, fetch the wheelchair please.”

Our Miss Wheatley showed some alarm upon hearing this so I hastened to calm her.

“Nothing to fret about, my dear, I always give a new patient a mild medication to relax her during her physical examination. It may make you a bit unsteady on your feet so we will wheel you to the dispensary.”

“Physical examination? But I am perfectly healthy. I’d rather not…” She finally spoke.

“Now, now, Doctor knows best. Nothing to fear…it is all very standard.” I assured her in my best Doctor’s tone.

Millie returned with the chair and, once the girl had reluctantly sat herself in it, I moved around behind her with a small blue vial of ether and a cloth.

“Now, just close your eyes and relax, my dear.” I soothed.

Moments later her mind was spinning off down the whirling tunnel into blackness and she slumped down in her seat. Millie promptly wheeled her away to my office. The area across from my desk which had once housed my uncle’s simple sleeping arrangements had been converted to a dispensary and examination room. It all looked very professional and there is nothing like a bit of medical paraphernalia to awe the layman.

My new toy came out of the fog to find herself strapped down to the examination table and staring up at the ceiling. I watched her eyes grow alarmed as a full awareness of her predicament settled in. Her wrists had been secured at her sides and each ankle was held fast. She struggled in vain against the restraints and tried to protest but the sponge gag in her mouth reduced her noise to a series of muffled grunts.

As I began to calmly remove my clothing she at first grew even more agitated but then closed her eyes tightly as if by doing so she could make the nightmare dissolve. Once I was naked, I applied myself to removing the shoes from my captive’s very dainty feet. She shuddered as I caressed her toes through the stocking.

“Open your eyes, Diane.” I ordered.

Her response was to scrunch them shut even tighter. I soon found my trusty rod and with a wide swing sent a bolt of fire across the sole of the foot I had been stroking. Her eyes flew open then and her cheeks bulged with a choked scream.

“That’s better, Diane. Now keep them open if you don’t want another.”

I handed Millie a pair of surgical scissors.

“Use these.” I said simply.

I watched contentedly as with each snip of the scissors pieces of the dress fell away and Millie unveiled more of my sweet new prize. When Diane’s breasts were at last bared with their light pink aureola and small stiffened nubs I could barely restrain myself from leaning in to bite them. Her embarrassed squirming only served to jiggle her blushing breasts and make them even more alluring.

As the scissors made their way along the length of each stocking revealing the girl’s firm rosy limbs I felt my prick rising. I retreated to the brandy decanter to moderate my arousal. I sipped while Millie snipped and soon Diane’s knickers disappeared. Her mons with its pinched little slit and crown of fine golden fleece was at last displayed.

I moved to a pedal pump on the floor and began working it with my foot. As I did so the lower half of the table began to separate. I watched the panic come over Diane’s face as her naked thighs were drawn ever further apart. Not until her legs trembled with the strain was I satisfied.

“Hold her open for me.” I demanded.

Willingly Millie leaned across and pinched up each of Diane’s pussy lips with her fingers. Like a flower her little cunt opened and revealed a moist pink center as its petals were pulled wide. The hymen was intact. I could not believe my good fortune…another virgin had been delivered to my unholy altar.

“You may leave us now, Millie.”

“But I…”

“Go!”

She looked put out but she obeyed me. No doubt the preparation for this fresh bon bon’s initiation had gotten the bitch as randy as it had me but I had no intention of sharing this meal. Millie would just have to go find her relief elsewhere. Surely she had trained enough cuntlickers. It occurred to me again that she was getting a tad too self-important and that I would have to take her down a peg or two soon. I put the distraction out of my mind and turned to the task at hand.

“Now, Diane my sweet, it is surely obvious to you by now that I am in control here. I am going to remove your gag but I want no fuss from you. Bat your baby blues at me if you understand.”

Her eyes blinked furiously and so I freed her mouth. I watched as she sucked in a deep breath and swallowed gratefully.

“You will be pleased to hear that my examination has proven that you were correct in stating that you are quite healthy. You have but one small encumbrance and I am going to do away with that right now.”

So saying, I guided the knob of my prick into her until it nudged up against her barrier and she winced.

“Ask me nicely now and say please.” I demanded.

“Ask you p p please what?” She stuttered.

“Ask me nicely to please fuck your fresh little cunt.”

Her mouth moved but she couldn’t get the words out…so…I took hold of her small pink nipples and gave them a twist. That freed up her voice immediately.

“PLEASE FUCK MY FRESH LITTLE CUNT!”

My little games had me more than ready. At her shout I lunged forward like a stallion out of the gate and buried myself to hilt. It was the tightest, hottest, sweetest hole I had ever been up. Her squeals only served to drive me on…I pumped in and out of her like a man deranged and all too soon I was shaking and spewing. I fell forward upon her bound body and waited in a state of rapture for my pulse to slow. There was a last exquisite bit of friction as I slowly eased out of her narrow sheath and looked down with satisfaction at the reddish tinge coating my wet cock.

I moved slowly from between her splayed thighs to the other end of the table and lowered its headrest causing Diane’s head to hang down. I stroked a finger along the softness of her lips teasing her mouth open. There was some resistance but when my other fingers found a nipple again her facehole slackened obediently. I teased her lips with the head of my bloody cock and then slid it in along her tongue.

“Suck now.”

It was new and repulsive to her but another twist to the nipple improved her effort and soon I was hard again. I gradually forced my way down her throat and was soon rutting away again as she gagged and gurgled until I shot my second load down her gullet.

By the time I released her from the table she was completely compliant. I locked a very attractive silver collar that I had been saving around her neck and attached a lead. When I lead her nude form up the broad stairs to my bedroom, her bare feet padded along behind me and there was never so much as a tug on the leash.

I enjoyed her throughout the night. I even coaxed her to her first orgasm and then had her pay for the pleasure by making her relax her rear pucker and use it to milk me.

Diane was by far the choicest item in my collection. Rather than giving her a room of her own, I made her a permanent fixture in mine. Over the days that followed my rod and I soon had her trained as the perfect pet. Whenever she heard my tread in the hall she would hurry to greet my return. It was most pleasant to open the door and find her kneeling before me with my wool slippers in her mouth.

~~~~~

I fear I have grown rather lax in the keeping of this memoir. I see now by a glance at the calendar that more than a year has passed since my little pet, Diane, arrived. The truth is that, what with my natural laziness, the writing of it had become a chore. That fact aside, nothing out of the ordinary has really transpired.

Sad to say, I have come to believe that the Pasha’s life I’ve been leading is breeding a certain staleness in me. I have nothing to do beyond eating, drinking, fucking and birching a bottom now and then. Quite frankly, I am bored to death and can only blame myself for this state of affairs. I have of course kept myself remote from the society of the village, not that such a dull burg would offer any distraction. Neither does a return to the city hold any allure.

There really is little point in being wealthy if one does not enjoy it. To this end I have decided to travel. A world tour! I shall pack along my pet, Diane, to ensure some amusement, though I doubt that a man of my means will lack for diversions. Who is to say? I may even fetch back a wife. After all, someone must inherit it all someday. Surely someone such as myself could breed the perfect little beast for the job. Yes, it is a capital idea.

A couple of beatings have cured Millie. It is now ‘Yes Sir, no Sir, three bags full, Sir.’ And all runs smoothly. She handles all the mundane details of running the place superbly. I shall leave her to keep the nuts and bolts of Thorn Hill oiled whilst I shake my soul loose from its doldrums. Most probably such a journey will provide this memoir with some further adventures…in the meanwhile, I must set aside my pen as my daily visit to the bitch pen is somewhat overdue.

~~~~

I, Millicent Stern, while going through the personal effects of Doctor Stephen Strong following his incapacitation have discovered this journal. None of this shall ever be read by another soul as I intend to bury this record with Stephen once his poor twisted life finally expires.

After reading the above with great interest, especially the parts pertaining to me, I am taking it upon myself to add a short and final footnote to his pages. I do not do this out of any sense of duty or caring but because it is rather satisfying to be the one who adds the closing chapter to what he has penned here. Some time has elapsed since poor Stephen’s final entry but what more or less transpired in between was as follows:

The pivotal day began as most others…though by then I never knew what might ensue. Stephen had become quite unpredictable in his excesses. I met him on the third floor for the daily inspection of the women we had together turned into so many compliant slaves.

They had just finished their exercises and this particular time it had amused him to line them all up in a single file, whereupon he made them squat down on their haunches and waddle along, quacking like ducks, as he herded them to the shower with pokes and prods of the birch. I must admit that the ludicrous show had me wanting to laugh along with him despite myself.

Once the women were under the shower heads he left and I assumed that his quirky humour had been satisfied for the day. I was mistaken. Stephen suddenly reappeared…naked. He joined them under the warm spray and ordered them to bathe him. One was shampooing his hair when some lather apparently stung his eyes. Calling her a clumsy bitch he shoved her away and snatched up a towel. He twisted it and began pursuing her about the shower popping her bare body with its wet tip. She shrieked and scurried as he sought to corner her, all the while raising up red welts on her breasts and arse. It was then that the slippery tiles sent his feet from under him. The whole scene would have been quite comical if not for the sickening sound made by his head striking the hard floor.

For a moment he lay motionless and then he began to twitch convulsively. The women, of whom he had made such cruel sport, had at first stared down in shock but then, seeing their tormentor helpless at their feet, they began kicking and reviling him. They might have killed him in their unpent rage had I not gathered my wits enough to intervene. I had all I could do to beat them off of him. As things have played out, it might well have been a mercy had they finished him, but his survival has proved far more useful to me.

Reading how little Stephen had thought of me had at first brought some anger. It was true that the sudden introduction of a handsome and forceful male such as Stephen into my sheltered existence had fired my lust and …for a brief time, I admit…some fanciful romantic notions. But in my heart of hearts I knew that a man with such a cruel and selfish nature could never truly love anyone. Still, I had thought he held me in a somewhat higher regard than his writing revealed. Foolish me.

Even though he had introduced me to new sensual pleasures and shown me how erotic and arousing the wielding of power could be, I’d never forgotten that I’d first been coerced and threatened into becoming an accomplice to his wantonness. He had held all the trump cards though and I’d fully expected to live out my life doing his bidding. In many ways I became as much his slave as any other poor ward of Thorn Hill.

It was the accident that changed everything. I had finally got him safe in his own bed and, at first, intended to call for outside medical help…but then I thought of the situation Stephen had created at Thorn Hill and decided it might be better and more discreet if I personally undertook his care. During the following week the extent of his injuries became clear. His mind cleared but he had lost the use of his arms or legs and was incapable of clear speech. As I became convinced that his condition was permanent I was faced with the problem of what to do next.

One morning as I sat beside his bed, sponging his brow and looking into his tortured gaze, I could not help but think that his own sins had visited this justice upon him. A sudden wickedness possessed me and I dropped the sponge. I ran my hand down his chest until my nails found a nipple and dug in mercilessly. Even though all he could manage was a sloppy gurgle of pain, I saw the shock in his eyes. He knew in that sweet instant that the power had passed to me. Seeing the realization seize him was enough to satisfy me for the moment and I released him and returned to stroking his brow.

“Don’t worry, Stephen, Matron will take good care of you now.” I cooed with a smile.

It dawned on me just then that, with a dash of luck and much daring, my future could be assured. Since Stephen had not deigned to develop any ties with the village all of Thorn Hill’s business there had been conducted by me and if I continued to do so nothing would be deemed amiss there. The reclusive Dr. Strong would merely become even more reclusive. I would need to forge a document to get at his assets in the city but then if they were transferred to the Thorn Hill account rather than to myself not much would be questioned about that either. Eventually, since Stephen would die childless, there was no reason I should not have it all. If, years down the road, a will was discovered leaving the estate to his long suffering nurse and faithful caregiver it would appear very logical.

And so that was how it went. I informed the staff that Dr. Strong was recovering slowly from his accident and had made me his administrator. A small rise in their pay packets made my ascendancy welcome and unquestioned.  I promoted the more capable of the two midwives that Stephen had installed to my old position as Matron. I also improved the lot of the patients. His idea of putting them to work had been sensible enough so I kept them at their chores, but I provided them decent if somewhat simple clothing and a bit of free time. Occasionally I did have recourse to the crop I had learned to use…but the daily humiliations and thrashings they had suffered under for so long became a thing of the past. I even heard that the women had taken to calling me Saint Millie behind my back.

As for Stephen’s captive pet Diane…Well, he had been right in that she was the beauty of the bunch. Since a male consort would have proved dangerous to my plans, I took her as a lover instead. Releasing her from the cage she had existed in made her very grateful and devoted to me. Thus it was that all settled back into place nicely with Stephen tucked neatly away out of sight.

Oh there were whispers within our walls as to the Doctor’s true condition but none that I could not quell. Occasionally the guardian of some new soul to be committed asked to see the Doctor. If they would not be put off, I merely disappeared briefly and returned to inform them that Dr, Strong was very busy and dreadfully sorry but that Thorn Hill had no room for an additional patient just then. It was seldom an issue though.

~~~~

As a little postscript I will add that I still handle Stephen’s daily care. Naturally, with Diane, I took over his sumptuous room but we keep him in the one adjacent. Together we see that he is fed and bathed and I have managed to restrain Diane’s vengeful desire to visit any further physical cruelties on him. Last night I even wheeled him in through the connecting door and allowed him to watch his once upon a time pet, Diane, as she pleasured me. Her lips and tongue are quite divine.

Afterward, as we lay entwined following our lovemaking, we had a rather hilarious moment. We were sipping some wine when suddenly we could not help but share a laugh at his expense. There he was across the room in his wheel chair, wasted and naked, glaring at us with angry envious eyes and a rope of drool hanging from his sagging lips. Not that we were as insensitive as to laugh at his deplorable appearance, no, it was the fact that poor useless sod had still gotten an erection that amused us so.

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