The Fall

Authors note: This is a Victorian Alt Universe type of story. Most of the "toys" and people I mention existed during the Victorian era, however some things were invented a few years after 1866. Please be patient with me. ;)

Pity my homegirl Brenda for having to beta this, and put up, with my abuse, of commas.

**Warnings:** This story includes femdom, drug use, BDSM, anal play, urethral play, nonconsensual sex acts, rampant misogyny, and a bunch of other nasties that I haven't decided on yet.

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~ Dr. Jonathan Maxwell's office -- London, 1866 ~

Jonathan sighed; today was dragging. Mrs. Parvoy left only moments ago and his last patient of the day was due in the office in ten minutes. Thinking of little Nettie, he shuddered internally; the silly girl sobbed almost the entire time she was in the chair. He didn't understand why, as he was the one suffering the indignity of having to give her a massage for nearly 90 minutes. His hands were aching. He grit his teeth, the things he would go through just to get into the upper class' good graces.

How someone like Victor Parvoy put up with the little chit was beyond him. However he had heard rumors that the young man had recently taken the beautiful Emma Frances on as a mistress, but nothing was confirmed. Considering the Frances woman's assets and the way she flaunted them, he assumed that a lesser man would be able to forget his wife with her.

But Jonathan Maxwell wasn't a lesser man. With new patients each day, and the word of his success rate spreading, he was slowly but surely working his way through the middle class. If this continued, his son would be able to attend university when he came of age. And perhaps someday they would be accepted into upper class society. It would be as "new money", meaning they would still be looked down upon, but his son would marry well and he would be taken care of in his old age. His hands were sure to be arthritic by then.

Whenever he thought of his son, it conjured up images of his late wife Edith. Now she was a fine upstanding woman. She lay with him at night, did her wifely duty quietly until he finished, and most importantly, never ever complained. He would never have had to treat her for hysteria - Edith knew her place in the world. There were days, like today, that he missed her terribly.

Shaking his head to clear the depressing thoughts and focus on work, Jonathan dropped his utensils into a boiling pot in the corner to clean them. No, he didn't give any credence to those charlatans that stood outside the medical college; he just liked his instruments to shine. Louis Pasteur be damned.

Walking back over to his desk while cracking his knuckles to ease the cramping, he looked over at his notes for the next patient before her arrival.

Miss Eliza Wesley Age: 26 Referred by her family. Notes: Former fiancée of the late Dr Clinton Lambert. Suffers from severe hysteria. Possibly brought on by masturbation, although this has not been proven. The family states that if I am unable to cure her of this blight, she will be referred to Dr Isaac Baker Brown for immediate surgery, and then will attend classes and lectures on morality. Her symptoms are as follows: Willful, irritable, energetic, prideful, and unable or unwilling to accept her place within our great society.

Jonathan frowned. Unlike many other medical professionals, he greatly admired Clinton Lambert's work, and had wanted to attend one of his fitness camps up in the wilderness near Latchford. It was really a pity that the man had been killed while out running three years prior. A bear attack had to be a terribly painful death.

It was also a shame that his former fiancée seemed to be mentally impaired, possibly by something as insidious as masturbation. This whole episode of hysteria had to have brought on by Lambert's death; he had no doubts that before then she was an obedient creature by nature. To be a member of the prestigious Wesley family and engaged to someone as well known as Dr. Lambert she had to have been upstanding.

Sitting down in his chair, he felt a grand daydream coming on. If he were able to cure her, word could spread even further about his humble practice through the upper classes. He might even be able to hire two more doctors! Yes, two doctors fresh out of school that would deal with his troublesome hysteria patients while he dealt with important issues like surgery and nervous system research. He smiled, and allowed himself to drift for a short time.

~22 minutes later ~

Jonathan angrily narrowed his eyes as he glanced at his pocket watch again. The damnable woman was over ten minutes late! How he hated tardiness. Well, perhaps she was too faint to make it. If that was the case, he could forget curing her, she could only be helped by the hands of Dr. Brown! Taking in a deep breath to soothe his anger and attempting to take his mind off the rudeness of his new subject, he let his gaze wander around the office. He noted with satisfaction that, while cluttered, everything therein was spotless and in its place. Just the way he wanted it. He absently arranged the inkbottles on his desk from large to small to insure that order was kept.

A knock broke into his musings, and Jonathan strode over to the door to open it. Henry, his sometime assistant, was taking the overcoat and hat of an older gentleman, while a woman he assumed was Eliza Wesley was slowly shrugging out of hers. Her back was facing toward him, but he could see that she was of lean build, and held herself with her back straight and head high. Like a *man*. This wouldn't do at all. Women were supposed to be soft and meek, not filled with confidence and pride. Obviously he had his work cut out for him.

"Mr. Wesley, it is good to finally make your acquaintance." Jonathan shook his hand, "What can you tell me about Miss Wesley's condition?"

As the good doctor and her uncle walked into the examination room and began to talk quietly, Eliza shoved her overcoat into the arms of the confused redhead and angrily glared at the two men through the open doorway. Just like all the other bastards, this one didn't acknowledge her presence either.

"My niece has been having troubles since her fiancée's death. Our family has tried everything to get her to behave properly, but have thus failed. She has already seen six other physicians with no results. It's gotten so bad that we've had to acquire a separate flat just so her behavior does not contaminate the minds of my young daughters." The man shook his head sadly, "I'm sorry to say that if you fail Dr. Maxwell, it will mean that she has fallen to the moral disease of masturbation, and I will have no other choice but to bring her to Dr. Brown for treatment."

"I understand." Being honest with himself, Jonathan didn't particularly like the idea of sending anyone to Dr. Isaac Baker Brown, as a physician, he heard things about the man that the public was still unaware of.

"My wife and I will await your diagnosis, and will make further arrangements if necessary."

Assuring him that he would do his absolute best to help his niece, he bid the man farewell, as treatment would last hours. Jonathan also promised that he would insure her return to her flat afterward. As it was already late in the evening, he dismissed Henry as well, it made no sense to pay him hourly to do nothing but sit around gathering dust. Motioning for the young lady to come inside the examination room, he sat at his desk and began his assessment of her state.

Eliza Wesley was roughly a head shorter than he was, with skin like ivory, brown hair, and gorgeous blue eyes that flashed at him with anger. Gorgeous? Preposterous. She was a woman under severe mental duress. He shook his head mentally and began to make notes in his file.

"Miss Wesley, I understand that you were once engaged to Dr. Lambert. I admired his work." He stated absently without looking up, if only to make small talk. It was always good to make the patient feel at ease.

Eliza was surprised; most other physicians thought Clinton's ideas about physical fitness and diet were bunk. If the good Dr. Maxwell only knew that her fiancée only pushed himself to be fit just so he could keep up with his other vices, he would probably choke on his own spit. She chuckled inwardly. And if he knew that some of Clinton's more wild behaviors rubbed off on her, he would definitely not have sent his cute but dim-witted assistant home.

She also was acutely aware that if Dr. Maxwell failed to "cure" her, that she would be sent to that madman uptown. Clinton had called him a butcher. Well, that was just not going to happen. She was never going to be tamed, and she was not going to Dr. Brown. Acting the part of a subservient woman was easy, but inevitably she would wind up married, the truth would come out, and she would wind up in the same position she was in now. No, the best course of action was still to have a doctor in her pocket in case of emergencies. And the man in front of her was the perfect candidate.

Quietly, she began assessing Dr. Maxwell. He was young for a doctor, and once you got around the pompous personality he was really quite handsome. His black hair, light grey eyes, and pale skin nearly mirrored to her own features. He was not like the other physicians she had seen in the past few years. Most were too old, too fat, too unattractive. Letting them touch her was absolutely horrifying, but she persevered.

Watching how stiffly he stood while scribbling into his file, she surmised that while handsome, he was the typical specimen of a modern man. She knew the type well. Noticing his wedding ring, she surmised that he was a man who attended church every Sunday, has an exhausted wife from birthing too many children, and turns out pregnant maids from his employ. All while having a mistress on the side, and visiting prostitutes. One huge hypocrite. One very foolish hypocrite, she thought as she glanced back to the man and eyeballed the various bottles that sat on a shelf next to her.

"...lacks femininity and seems to be oblivious of her current predicament. Thus I must conclude that her intelligence, like most women, is below average..."

And this is why while Dr. Maxwell sat immersed in taking his notes; the predator he invited into his office was able to silently stalk up behind him, as silent as a cat. He didn't even have time to react as a delicate handkerchief was placed over his nose and all went black.

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Various A/Ns and random facts:

Hysteria was a "real" disease that women suffered from in the Victorian ages. Those considered to be suffering from it exhibited a wide array of symptoms, including faintness, nervousness, insomnia, irritability, loss of appetite for food or sex, and "a tendency to cause trouble". Women considered to be suffering from hysteria would undergo "pelvic massage" meaning the manual stimulation of the genitals by a doctor until the patient experienced "hysterical paroxysm" aka orgasm. It's a pity that most doctors were not very good at this, as many complained that it took hours. Thus with the invention of electricity, the vibrator came into existence shortly thereafter.

Isaac Baker Brown was a real person in the Victorian era. He was alive and working in 1866. He was a "specialist" in gynecology and developed the clitoridectomy as a cure for epilepsy and hysteria, which he attributed to masturbation. He was later ousted from his position in London when it was discovered that he was performing these surgeries without consent. However, the US was a little late in catching on that this man was a quack, medical texts until 1936 suggested the removal of the clitoris as a way to curb promiscuity.

Louis Pasteur is real, was alive in 1866, and he supported the germ theory with diseases. He is most known for heating liquids to kill bacteria, aka pasteurization. He only got a brief mention, but whatever.

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I accept all comments and constructive criticism - as I am an amateur author and still learning.