Elizabeth Pavlov Dryden was in a terrible, rotten, no-good mood today, and nobody, not even her mother, could convince her otherwise. Especially her mother, who right now was the last person that she wanted to see. Outside her bedroom window, the first golden rays of the sun peeked up over the horizon to shine through a gap in the London city haze, a rare occurrence given that they lived near the Thames, but Elizabeth was in no mood to appreciate the view. The memories of what happened last night were all too fresh, and she closed her eyes as she tried to go back to sleep. The world outside could afford to wait a little longer for her to get up today.

A minute later, however, prompted by the chiming of the grandfather clock downstairs, footsteps echoed out in the hallway, and a knock sounded against her door.

“Go away, I’m sleeping,” said Elizabeth.

The door opened, and Sarah, one of the maids, stuck her head inside.

“Young Mistress, if you don’t get up soon, your mother will be cross,” she said.

“Then let her,” said Elizabeth, “As if she isn’t already.”

Elizabeth huffed and pulled halfheartedly at the ropes that secured her wrists to the bed frame above her head. Another product of the events from last night, and one that had taken all four of the maids working together under the directions of her mother to accomplish. Of course, that naturally included Sarah as well. Dragging herself up onto her pillows, Elizabeth glared daggers at the girl that stood in front of her. Sarah blinked, and walking over to the side of the bed, she began to untie the bonds.

“You know, your mother hardly slept at all last night,” she said.

“Oh?” said Elizabeth.

She scowled as Sarah pulled at a particularly stubborn knot with her hands.

“She’s frantic, she doesn’t know what to do,” said Sarah.

“And what does that have to do with me?” said Elizabeth.

Sarah kept silent as she moved over to the other side of the bed. The second knot loosened, and a minute later, Elizabeth felt the tension in the rope slacken as both her limbs came free. Bringing her arms together in front of her, she winced as she rubbed her fingers over the marks on her wrists. Sleeping with both of her hands tied up had been more tiring than she thought.

As Sarah bent down to gather up the ropes, Elizabeth yawned and climbed out of bed. A few seconds later, the maid returned from the closet again with the set of clothes picked out for her today. Stretching her arms up, Elizabeth let her discarded nightgown fall to the floor. Her light-colored hair fell around her shoulders as she began the long and arduous process of getting dressed.

Elizabeth winced as Sarah pulled the laces of her dress together behind her back.

“Not so tight,” she said.

“I apologize, Young Mistress,” said Sarah.

The bindings loosened as Sarah untied them, and the clamshell waist of the dress opened up a little as Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. She held the air inside her lungs, expanding her chest out as much as she could before Sarah could draw the strings together behind her back. Only once the bindings were secure did she let the air out, and the stiffness of the fabric came squeezed back down again. Standing beside her, Sarah waited patiently for her to adjust to the tightness of the first layer before she moved to pick up the next.

“Would you prefer yellow or blue today?” asked Sarah, “Or perhaps…”

Elizabeth sighed as the other girl waited for her to choose.

“Just pick one,” she said.

Sarah chose the yellow petticoat, the one with frills running down the length of the sleeves, and Elizabeth clenched her teeth as the maid pushed her arms into the sleeves. She felt her shoulders wavering a little as the weight of the fabric settled down around her chest. Despite the chilliness of the morning air, she was already starting to feel hot underneath the thickness of everything she had to wear.

Hot because of the clothes, she reminded herself, and not because of something else.

The thought was soon lost though as Sarah moved her head forward to help tie her hair up. Turning to look into the mirror beside her bed, Elizabeth examined the reflection that stared back at her. Underneath the pale green eyes staring back at her, and the golden-colored curls on her head, a deep flush was already starting to spread down to her neck where she counted no less than one, two, three layers of petticoats, crinolines, and corsets. She looked to the remaining pile of clothes next to her in despair. They weren’t even halfway through the set.

“Please hold still, Young Mistress,” said Sarah.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth again in response. Oh, what she would give to be free from the responsibilities of her role. Instead of granting her wish, however, God had seen it fit to make her a girl. In days like these, with the heat of the fireplace built up against the dampness outside, she could only imagine how miserable she would be by the time the sun went back down.

It wasn’t until another half hour later that Elizabeth finally breathed out a sigh of relief.

“What do you think?” asked Sarah.

Elizabeth turned to look into the mirror for a second time.

“Wonderful,” she said. “As always.”

For most of the girls she knew, the specific intricacies of the outfit were designed with more than just one purpose in mind. Besides the most obvious goal of protecting their modesty, the clothes also served as a way for them to show off their status and wealth. For her though, with her narrow waist and lack of breasts, the entire thing just looked ridiculous instead. With the sheer amount of clothing draped around her, she felt as if she was little more than a human doll forced into an oversized dress.

Besides her, Sarah took a step back and bowed her head. In comparison to her own heavy outfit, the girl wore a much lighter one instead, consisting of only a simple black and white garb in the style of a French maid dress. It was enough to make Elizabeth jealous sometimes of how straightforward it looked. So simple and carefree, as if the girl able to do whatever she wanted whenever she pleased. None of the silly rules that forever bound her as a lady of the upper class.

Elizabeth huffed in annoyance.

“Is there anything to your displeasure?” asked Sarah.

Elizabeth frowned and shook her head.

“No, it’s just…,” she said.

Her head felt light as she struggled to draw in air. Trapped under a mountain of clothes, the bindings meant to straighten her posture felt more like a band of rubber constantly squeezing all the air out of her chest. Sarah stepped forward to hold her, and after a moment, Elizabeth regained her breath. It felt as if she was trapped in a prison with the individual layers acting as the bars to her cell.

“Thank you,” said Elizabeth.

Sarah opened the door for her, together they made their way down the stairs. The smell of breakfast drifted over to them, and Elizabeth’s stomach growled. Scrambled eggs with a generous helping of toast and jam. Before she could make her way to the kitchen, however, the maid stopped and pulled her aside.

“Please be patient, Young Mistress,” she said, “Your mother had ordered for you to be examined first.”

Elizabeth scowled. She had been expecting this conversation ever since the events of last night, but she hadn’t expected for it to happen so soon.

“Examined? By whom?” she said.

“Dr. Roland,” said Sarah, “Your mother sent him a telegram, and he’s worried that eating first would affect the results of the exam.”

Anger rose inside her, and despite herself, Elizabeth jerked her hand away.

“This is ridiculous, I’m not even sick,” said Elizabeth.

She started to make her way toward the kitchen, but Sarah grabbed onto her again. This time, however, the maid seemed intent on making her stay.

“Please, you must understand,” said Sarah, “If… if your mother catches you, I’ll be punished as well.”

They stopped in the middle of the hall and Elizabeth sighed in annoyance. If it was just her then maybe she could get away with it, but her mother was relentless when it came to punishing the maids. It just wouldn’t be fair for Sarah to suffer for what she did. She tugged at the collar of her dress as she tried to draw in another breath of air. It was hard to think like this underneath the weight of all her clothes.

“Well, why don’t you…,” said Elizabeth.

Before she could finish the thought, however, a knock sounded out against the front door, and just as Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask who it was, there was a flutter of movement as her mother rushed out from a nearby room. The door cracked open, and peeking around the edge, Elizabeth tried to see who was there. A single glance however was enough to make her pull away again. Standing right outside on the front doorstep was Dr. Roland, and as he looked up to greet her, Elizabeth swallowed on a dry throat.

&&&&&&

Dr. Roland was a thin and hungry-looking man with a sour and dour face that looked as if it had gone bad some twenty-odd years ago. His personality was much about the same, a mirror match of his appearance even down to the way he spoke. Were it not for his numerous medical treatises and his membership in the Royal Society, Elizabeth doubted her father would have ever hired him at all. Hire him he did though, and Dr. Roland stared down at her as he stepped inside.

“Good morning, Mrs. Dryden, is this the patient?” he asked.

As always, straight and to the point, another attribute that her father valued as a businessman. For her though, Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to feel the same way. She had always hated doctor visits, and the absolute seriousness with which Dr. Roland treated his patients didn’t help at all.

“Yes, I’m afraid it is,” said her mother.

They both looked at her, and Elizabeth shivered in response before her mother turned to talk with the doctor again. As always, she spoke with the expected mannerisms of her class, holding herself upright with the posture of a proper lady as she talked. Today though, some of the usual regality she always wore was gone, and she bore a thin line on her face that spoke of a night spent unslept.

It took her mother a moment to find where to begin.

“Last night... Elizabeth, well, we…,” she said.

Her mother stopped briefly, as if unsure what to say, and Dr. Roland waited for her to finish. It was only after a few more attempts that she was able to get the words right, as if they contained something too disgusting to be said aloud.

“Well, we caught her,” she said.

Elizabeth turned bright red, and there was a pause as Dr. Roland tried to understand. He frowned in confusion.

“Caught her? What do you mean?” he asked.

Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. The same ones that…

“With her hands between her legs,” said her mother.

Now, more than ever before, Elizabeth prayed that she could turn invisible and disappear. This was it. This was how she was going to die. Sitting in the middle of her living room with her mother and Dr. Roland standing around her as she collapsed to the floor. Alas, goodbye sweet world, and the eighteen years of life she had lived. There was just no way she could survive the embarrassment of her shame now. Especially not after her sin had been spoken of out loud.

After a moment though, when death didn’t come, she peeked through her fingers to see the two still talking between themselves as if she wasn’t there. Briefly, Dr. Roland turned to look at her with a concerned look on his face.

“Was she doing anything else?” he asked slowly.

“We…,” said her mother.

“Any cries or noises perhaps?” he said.

Another pause, and Elizabeth buried her face in her hands once more. Even her mother seemed a little embarrassed by the question, and she seemed to shrink down as if forcing herself to accept the reality of what had occurred.

“Yes, she was moaning,” said her mother.

The memory was still fresh, and Elizabeth desperately tried to think of anything else except the events of last night. Enraptured by the bliss, she had been just on the cusp of finishing as well, teetering on the edge of the most wonderful feeling in the world when her mother had burst in on her with the sheets pushed out of the way and her nightgown pulled all the way up to her chest. Her mother had taken one look at the scene before she had fled, crying out for the maids. A moment later, they arrived and with a length of rope, the four of them had tied her down to the bed. Elizabeth had spent the rest of the night in misery as her core throbbed with the unspent release she could have had. The feeling of emptiness was made all the worse by the fact that it was the first time she had dared to go so far. Previous to that, the most she had ever done to herself was a soft touch that lasted barely longer than a minute at most. Afterward, kept awake by the frustration of her bottled-up desires, it had taken until the early hours of the morning for her to finally fall asleep.

Thinking about it now brought the blood rushing up to her face again, and she pressed her legs together as Dr. Roland leaned forward to examine her with a critical eye.

“Female hysteria,” he said, “Not an uncommon problem among girls whose bodies are still in the midst of change. If left untreated, however, the symptoms will only grow worse.”

“Symptoms?” blurted out Elizabeth.

Her mother glared at her for the outburst, but the doctor continued as if it hadn’t occurred.

“Yes, inability to focus, lack of concentration, general uncontrollability,” he said, “If this is the first time it’s occurred, however, there should only be a small chance of any lasting effects provided regular treatments are started soon.”

Dr. Roland looked over to where her mother stood.

“I will need to conduct a routine examination,” he said, “With your permission?”

Her mother nodded, and despite how much she tried to keep herself calm, Elizabeth found herself taking a step away. Now, while they were still in the public area of the living room? She glanced about as if looking for a way to escape. Trapped under the stern gaze of her mother, however, she knew that once the woman had made up her mind, there would be no turning back until the task was through.

&&&&&&

It took another half hour of convincing by the doctor before Elizabeth had finally allowed the exam to start. It was madness, pure madness. Why couldn’t they move instead to the privacy of her room? She looked over to her mother, but the only response she received was a cold stare that she should do as she was told. As Dr. Roland reached into his bag to take out a pair of rubber gloves, Elizabeth winced at the sound. She always hated the slimy texture the material gave off, and she shuddered to think of where he would be touching her now.

“Your clothes, if you will,” said Dr. Roland.

Sarah rushed over to assist, and Elizabeth turned even more red than she had been before. Already, she could feel her stomach dropping at the thought of what was to come. Besides just the hassle of getting ready in the morning, the other downside of having to wear so many layers was the sheer amount of time it took to take it all off. In the isolated confines of her own room, it wasn’t too much of a bother, but standing here in the living room with everyone watching, the embarrassment would only be multiplied tenfold. Elizabeth shivered as she felt Sarah reach behind her to undo the bindings of her dress. The first set of straps came free, and the shoulder of the dress fell away to reveal the layer below.

“All of it,” said Dr. Roland, “I’ll need full access from head to toe.”

By now, several of the other maids had gathered around the edges of the room along with a few of the servants, and they watched on in eagerness as Sarah bent down to undo the ties holding her skirts in place. Elizabeth held still as the fabric fell to the floor. Despite the fireplace next to her and how hot it was, the only thing she could felt now was cold. Lifting her foot up, she stepped free from the discarded article as Sarah continued with the task of stripping her nude.

Another strap, another button, another piece of lace, on and on it went until at last, a quarter of an hour later, she was left in nothing but her underclothes. Then, that too was gone as Sarah lifted the fabric up and out of the way to remove. Quite a few snickers went up around the room as Elizabeth was left standing with her naked breasts on display. Blushing, she tried to cover herself up, but Dr. Roland moved her hands out of the way.

“None of that, be a good girl now,” he said.

There was a small stool nearby, and Sarah went over to fetch the waist-high chair from where it stood on the other side of the room. She brought it back, and leaning over the low surface of the seat, Elizabeth grabbed on to the limbs on the opposite side. She tried to keep her legs together to protect what little modesty she had left, but it was almost a futile gesture given what came next. Reaching out with his hands to spread her cheeks, Dr. Roland scooped up a generous amount of lubricating grease with his finger and spread the substance across her backdoor. Drawing a thermometer out from his bag, he placed it against her hole, and Elizabeth shivered as she felt the cold surface of the glass bulb push its way inside.

“Oooohhhhhh…”

It was far from the first time that she had her temperature taken, but every time she did, the feeling of having something shoved inside her back there only grew worse. Elizabeth clenched down as she felt the bulb spreading her apart little by little until she felt like she was going to burst. Then, just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, the widest part made it past her entrance, and aided by the lubrication, the rest of the shaft slid inside. At a little over half an inch wide, the thermometer scraped up against her walls as the doctor pushed the instrument deeper within her bowls.

“Five minutes, hold it in now,” he said.

He gave the thermometer a few taps to ensure that it was secure before allowing her to stand back up. Elizabeth did so, clenching down the best she could to stop it from slipping back out. With the wide end of the bulb buried inside her bottom, she could only imagine how she looked with the upper half of the glass rod still sticking out. Five minutes was a long time to wait when her face was as red as the mercury inside.

In the meantime, Dr. Roland turned her around to examine her breasts. Reaching up with his fingers, he traced a circle around each of her nipples, just outside the darkened patches of her areola. Still in the midst of developing, they felt especially sensitive, and Elizabeth shrunk back as the two points swelled up from the small mounds on her chest. Dr. Roland reached up to cup each of them in his hands.

“Sensitivity nominal,” he said, “Though the severity of the reaction is another indicator of hysteria as well.”

He continued on with the examination for another while, rubbing his thumbs over the sensitive points as they rose up into the air. Only once he was satisfied with his findings did he motion for her to turn over the stool once more. Grabbing hold of the thermometer, he drew it out of her to check the measurement on the glass. Elizabeth felt herself clenching down against the smoothness of the instrument as the bulb stretched her apart once more.

“Ninety-nine point two degrees,” he said.

He frowned and rubbed his chin.

“Slightly above average, though not by much,” he said.

Her mother leaned over to look.

“Is she sick?” she asked.

Wiping the end of the bulb with a cleaning cloth, the doctor put the instrument away and sighed. He spoke slowly, as if the diagnosis was just out of reach.

“Not necessarily,” he said, “Though a higher body temperature is also another sign of the disease, without much else, I’m afraid it’s still too early to say.”

Her mother opened her mouth to say something, but the doctor continued to speak.

“With your permission, however, Mrs. Dryden, I do have another test I can conduct,” he said.

Her mother looked confused at his request.

“I thought I already gave you permission?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Dr. Roland, “Though, this last test is a bit more… should we say, intrusive than the ones before.”

At first, Elizabeth had no idea what he was talking about. What could be worse than having her nipples played with or a thermometer shoved up her backdoor? Soon enough though, her mother’s face changed as she realized what the doctor meant. After a moment, Elizabeth did as well.

“No!” cried Elizabeth.

She jumped up from where she lay across the stool. There was no way she was going to allow this to happen, not if she had any say. She would rather die first than submit herself to such a disgrace.

“I will not, mother, tell him I will not!” she cried.

To her horror, however, her mother seemed to be seriously considering the proposal.

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous?” she asked.

“There’s always a risk, but as long as she can hold herself still, her purity will remain intact,” said Dr. Roland.

“Please, you mustn’t!” cried Elizabeth.

She wrung her hands together in desperation, but it was no use. From the way the situation looked, however, time was quickly running out. Given her lack of options though, she would rather accept the examination by her own will than have it forced upon her. At her mother’s command, two of the maids stepped forward and Elizabeth reluctantly allowed herself to be walked over to the couch. Bringing her legs up to either side of her body, she folded her knees up against her chest as the maids held her down. Just a little, if she could just endure for just a little while, then it would be over sooner or later.

Behind her, Sarah held her arms together to keep her from thrashing about. The maid gave her a sympathetic smile from behind.

“Be brave, Young Mistress,” she said.

Dr. Roland stepped forward to kneel down in front of her, and with her bottom left hanging out over the edge of the couch, there was nothing left now which she could use to hide her most secret place from view. Every inch of her private parts from the pinkness of her labia to the tightness of her backdoor was on full display. Still wearing his gloves, the doctor reached into his medical bag and drew out a jar of thick, pink-looking cream. Giving it a twist, he unscrewed the lid.

“Hold still now,” he said, “The mixture is very potent, and you must be careful not to get it where it doesn’t belong.”

He reached up towards the top of her slit, and pressing down with his finger, he slowly drew the covering off the tiny bump hidden underneath. Elizabeth cried out as the hood of her clit was peeled away. Freed from under the tight confines of its sheath, she felt it swell up as it rose into the air. The doctor reached out to trace a finger around the base, and Elizabeth whimpered as she felt her hips thrust upward against her will. Focus, she had to focus.

“As I suspected,” said Dr. Roland, “Few women are able to resist the call of the siren once they are touched here, either by their own hands or by those of someone else.”

Gathering up a small amount of the cream, he smeared it across her clit and Elizabeth felt her hips lift upward again in response. A moment later, however, a cold burning sensation reminiscent of mint began to spread. Starting from the areas affected by the cream, it moved through her body as it numbed her flesh. Confused, she looked down between her open legs.

“The substance I just used consists of one-half numbing cream mixed in with various amounts of different aphrodisiacs,” explained Dr. Roland, “Through the intentional stimulation of the erogenous zones, we should be able to measure how far your condition has grown without letting you spend.”

The burning was starting to increase, and Elizabeth twisted about as she struggled to free her hands. Between her legs, she felt an unbearable itch start to spread and she cried out as it ate into her flesh. If she wasn’t able to reach down and comfort herself soon, she felt as if she would go mad. No matter how hard she tried to wiggle free, however, the maids around her would just not let go. Pinned down on all sides, it was as if her limbs were trapped in a vice.

“Ooohhhh…”

The world was spinning now, and each breath she tried to draw into her lungs felt like it was made of fire instead of air. Elizabeth felt her nipples stiffen up until they were hard enough to cut through steel. The ordeal was far from over yet, however, and as Dr. Roland reached between her legs again, she felt his fingers pulling at either side of her lips. Opening up her labia, the doctor peered down at the twitching entrance of her virgin hole.

A little ways inside, the thin membrane of her purity could just be seen, and Elizabeth watched in horror as the doctor reached over to take a small syringe out of his bag. Using the rounded nose at the end, he drew up another dose of the cream. Then, he moved the instrument closer until it was pressed up against the opening of her tunnel. Time seemed to slow down as Elizabeth felt the blunted tip push past the opening of her hymen, and pressing down on the plunger, the doctor squirted the substance up against her womb.

Instantly, Elizabeth felt her mind go white as every muscle in her body seized up at once.

“Hold her down,” said Dr. Roland, “She mustn’t be allowed to break free.”

The pressure mounted inside her, drawing her closer and closer to the edge of breaking until Elizabeth thought she would burst. She was so close to the finish line now, and yet somehow she could never quite seem to reach. It was like running towards the light at the end of a tunnel that she knew she could never hope to catch. Her walls spasmed once, twice, three times in rapid succession as she tried to throw off the hands holding her down. Her efforts were fruitless, however, and she cried out as the frustration of her desire rose even more.

“Please! Let me finish!” cried Elizabeth.

“You mustn’t,” said Dr. Roland, “Be a good girl for me now.”

Another maid rushed forward to grab her legs, and the doctor freed his hands to reach for the syringe once more. Elizabeth wailed as she saw what he was about to do next. Her struggles increased again, but it was no use as the doctor approached with a second load. She had to be strong and endure, she had selected this for herself. The syringe slipped inside, and once more the freezing burn of the aphrodisiac took hold of her mind.

Elizabeth drew in a shaking breath as Dr. Roland put the syringe aside and reached up with his hand. Holding her open, his fingers traced between the wetness of her folds, circling closer and closer towards her aching clit at the top of her lips. At the last moment, however, he stopped and moved down instead to trace around the edges of her tunnel.

“Almost there, just a little longer now,” he said.

For what seemed like an eternity, Elizabeth shivered as the maids held her down against the couch. All the while, the doctor continued to stimulate her between her legs, checking his watch every now and then as he recorded his observations. Aided by the aphrodisiacs seeping into her womb, each time he touched her, she couldn’t help but moan out loud. Every time he did, it was as if a jolt of electricity had jumped straight into her head. Minutes seemed to blur into hours as the torture endured, and she felt as if she was being forced against the edge of a steep cliff, unable to climb back up and unable to fall.

Another eternity passed, and then some more. Just as she was about to lose all hope, however, the burning started to fade as the effects of the cream slowed down. Opening her eyes again, Elizabeth groaned out loud. Every muscle in her body felt sore, and she was beyond drenched now inside her core. Reaching down with a towel, the doctor began to clean her off. Dimly, she heard her mother talking somewhere in the background.

“Well?” she asked.

Dr. Roland took a moment to respond, and he held the towel out for her to see.

“Present, but not pronounced,” he said, “See how the fluids are still clear? This signifies the onset of symptoms without the permanence of the disease.”

“What do you mean?” asked her mother, but the doctor only shook his head. Grabbing the syringe and the cream from where he had placed them, he handed them over as well.

“It means that there’s a strong indicator, and further sessions are needed before recovery can be made,” he said, “Starting from today, two doses are to be applied with the syringe no more than thirty minutes before bed. Record any observations you see, and I will return again for another examination next week.”

Her mother took the cream and held it in her hand.

“And the effects?” she asked.

“A chastity belt will be needed to stop her from harming herself any further. It wouldn’t hurt to tie her hands down either while she sleeps,” said Dr. Roland.

Her mother nodded her head.

“I will have Sarah watch over her then,” she said.

As a final parting gift, the doctor drew out a chastity belt, and Elizabeth felt the cold surface of the steel press down against her skin as he locked it around her waist. Save for a small opening near the front that allowed waste to pass through, there was no way she could touch herself now. As the maids finally let her go, Elizabeth pulled herself back up to close her shaking legs. She looked over to where her discarded clothes lay on the floor and groaned when she realized she would have to go through the process of putting it all on again. As the doctor gathered up his bag to leave, a shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see Sarah looking down at her with concern.

“Are you all right, Young Mistress?” she asked.

Elizabeth closed her eyes as soft hands reached down to help her up. Leaning against the wall, she allowed the maid to maneuver her arms into place as the girl helped her dress. With the examination now over, the other servants and maids around them began to slowly return to their tasks. Her mother was the last to leave, still holding the jar of cream and the syringe in her hands.

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath as Sarah drew the bindings of her dress up again behind her back.

“Not so tight please, Sarah,” said Elizabeth.

The straps loosened, and despite the fact that the maid was standing behind her at the moment, she could almost feel the maid smiling back.

“As you wish, Young Mistress,” she said.

&&&&&&

Later, as Elizabeth stumbled off towards the kitchen for her long-awaited breakfast, Sarah disappeared off for a minute before returning again with a pot of tea. She set a cup out, and Elizabeth gladly accepted the drink.

“Milk?” asked Sarah.

The maid held up a small jug, and Elizabeth watched as the dark ruddy texture of the tea faded to a creamy light-colored brown. She reached out for some sugar and sighed as she breathed in the wonderful smell. Besides her, a small plate of eggs sat along with half of a sausage and some toast. Slowly, she could feel the warmth returning to her again despite the strange sensation of the belt.

Elizabeth shifted in her seat. It felt awkward to sit down with the steel band pressing between her legs, and she tried to move her legs into a more comfortable position. She winced as she felt the dull echo of a throb come from within her core. Though most of the heat was gone now, the frustration of not being allowed to finish still remained. She sipped at her tea as she tried to avoid thinking of the instructions the doctor had left for the week. There was no doubt that she would have a harder time sleeping at night now.

“Young Mistress?” said Sarah.

Her thoughts interrupted, Elizabeth looked up to see Sarah standing beside her.

“Yes?” she said.

Sarah seemed to think for a moment before she spoke again.

“I was thinking,” she said, “Given the events of today, would the Lady perhaps wish to take a stroll down the piers?”

To anyone else, the question would have seemed almost nonsensical. To her though, it was just like Sarah to remember how much she loved the sea. Elizabeth smiled as she held her cup in her hands. If nothing else, the trip would at least help take her mind off of her current situation for a while.

“Thank you, Sarah,” she said.

Inside, she felt the walls of her tunnel twitch again in response to her denial. As Sarah helped her up, however, and they headed out together to grab a coach, Elizabeth started to feel a little bit more like herself. The smell of the city drifted over to them through the fresh breeze in the air, and as they rode down the smooth cobblestones of the road, it was with some satisfaction that she noted the bystanders stop and stare. On the inside, she felt nothing but the heat of her desire unspent. To anyone looking on, however, she would appear as nothing less than as a proper lady of the Dryden household. Whatever small comfort it was, somehow, it was enough for now.