Doctor Gassners Greatest Scheme Ch 01

Chapter 1: The Proof

Westminster, London, England—1867

The two well-dressed gentlemen quietly conversed in a dim corner of White's, the most exclusive club in London. They sipped port that was more than 100 years in age as they discussed their business, secure in the knowledge that no one was near enough to overhear them.

"Distressing business, the Fenians," William Wood—the second son of Sir Matthew Wood—said to his companion. "Most distressing. The Crown must be firmer with these Irish traitors! Hang a few and we'll quickly see the rest scatter back to their hovels like the vermin they are."

"Indeed; indeed. Most distressing, sir." Wood's companion, Doctor Joseph Gassner, took a sip of his glass and smiled at the taste. "Damn near impossible to get decent drink in India," he noted. "Thank you for meeting me this evening. Much appreciated."

Wood nodded as he sipped from his own glass. Gassner was a swarthy fellow, but came from good breeding; he had sufficient references. "Your letter was intriguing, I must admit, Doctor. Your claims, sir—and let us be forthright here—are difficult to accept. Almost impossible to believe, many might say."

"I understand completely. If one has not witnessed such things with one's own eyes ...

yes.

Difficult to accept. Most definitely. Yet—I tell you my claims are valid. I have traveled, sir! I have traveled widely, not only in India but also to China. I was in Peking just after the signing of the treaty. I have traveled and I have studied. I have interviewed the mystics and the yogis. I have witnessed firsthand what fairly could be termed 'miracles,' sir."

"Yes; quite," Wood said, radiating skepticism.

"My claims are valid, sir; the evidence irrefutable. I have researched; I have studied—and I have learned. What I have learned I have practiced. And now I bring my skills to you, sir, seeking a partnership. With your capital and my skills, I believe we shall both prosper immensely."

Rather than respond, Wood finished his glass and signaled the servant for another. Both men waited until the servant departed before resuming their quiet conversation.

"A demonstration of the power of this thing—what d'you call it?—would be helpful. One might well desire to see proof before committing such an exorbitant amount of funds." Wood sipped his port. "Meaning to offer no offense, of course. Still, a bit of evidence would seem prudent before committing to the proposed course of action."

Gassner nodded. "There is no agreed-upon word for the power. Some call it 'Mesmerism;' others call it 'animal magnetism.' Braid of Scotland calls the force 'neural-hypnotism.' The proper name of the power is of no matter to a practical man; and you are—by all accounts—a most practical man, sir. As a practical man, if you wish evidence of the power's efficacy, then such evidence you shall have! Tell me, though: do you have a subject in mind? Someone on whom I may demonstrate the results from application of the force?"

"I do, sir. I most definitely do! The subject is my wife, sir. A most vexing woman and a trial even on her best of days. It is this damn book, sir! Mill's

The Subjection of Women.

It has warped her thinking! Having read an early copy, she now believes that women are the equals of men—can you believe such nonsense? She actually told me that women should be given the vote! It is absurd, sir! Yet ... she believes this absurdity with a passion." Wood shook his head. "We have had

rows,

sir. In front of the staff! My home—the tranquility of my home—it has been disturbed."

He gestured around him at the opulent club in which they sat. "I have fled here simply to restore my sanity. My wife is ... vexing. Vexing, sir! The situation must be dealt with!"

"You wish her mind to be changed regarding her belief in the equality of women? You wish tranquility restored to your household?"

"Indeed, sir. Indeed, I do!"

"And this change of mind—this change of heart—this would be sufficient evidence for you?"

Wood nodded.

"Then let us plan our campaign, sir."

*****

Oxford, England

Lady Charlotte Wood was more than a little skeptical of this "Doctor" whom her husband had recommended to her.

'Commanded' is more accurate a term,

she thought. Her husband was beyond all doubt a brilliant Barrister but, as a husband, he left much to be desired. Not that she would ever tell him so. Nonetheless, she

thought

her assessment of his character as loudly as possible whenever he did something pompous or cold—which he did on a regular basis.

His lack of affection was no doubt why they both felt the strains of marriage, almost as if the legal bonds that bound them together had become the heaviest of shackles. Had William demonstrated an iota more affection from time to time, he might well have had an heir by now. Since he refused to show her the love and affection that was her right as his wife, in return she had declined to give him his marriage rights. They had been without relations for nearly four years now, and such a sorry state was not likely to change any time soon.

Charlotte shook her head, thinking of her marital situation. She thought William had a mistress in London. He couldn't be at his club

every

night, could he? No. He had to have taken a mistress. No doubt a young thing, willing to provide him everything his wife denied him. Even though his wife was not yet 25 years in age, he probably thought her an old woman. Lady Charlotte sighed. How could she pressure her husband into changing his attitude, as Aristophanes had Lysistrata pressure the men of Athens to end their war, when he could relieve his needs with another willing woman? She couldn't.

Such thoughts bothered her greatly.

Their marital situation had deteriorated to the point where she was afraid the servants had noticed. From there, it was only a matter of time until the gossip spread. But what could she do? William was distant and hard when she wanted him to be soft and close—the way a wife and husband should be. Charlotte was filled with sadness when she contemplated her marital situation. Her mood had darkened to the point where even her husband noticed that something was amiss.

Today, he had commanded her to receive this "Doctor" Gassner into her home and to cooperate with him. "He's going to help you with your moodiness," William said—as if the moodiness and despondency were

her

problems! As if he, himself, had no part in causing her sadness!

Lord, what a thick man he can be!

And where was her husband to be found while this stranger—this so-called "Doctor"—was invading her home? At his club, of course, where, in her opinion, he spent

far

too much time these days. Or perhaps with his mistress relieving his needs. In either case, not here with her. She was alone in her house with a stranger—and her husband was, to all appearances, accepting of this situation!

She surveyed the man before her.

Doctor Joseph Gassner,

his card had said.

Doctor of the Mind.

This Doctor wore the proper attire for a gentleman, but he seemed uncomfortable in such garb. Charlotte thought he would prefer more casual clothes, which marked him either as a man new to the gentry or one just returned from warmer climes, such as India. Perhaps both were true. He was of medium height and medium weight. About 35 to 40 years old, she judged—older than she was, but certainly younger than her William. Doffing his hat had revealed dark hair whose curls threatened to fall into his eyes.

And his eyes! Large, luminous, dark eyes with no pupils. They seemed to miss nothing.

"Thank you for receiving me, Lady Charlotte," he said with a small smile. He sipped at the tea before them. "I trust your husband has explained the purpose of this appointment?"

"Not exactly, Doctor Gassner," she replied. "I find myself unsure of your purpose here and what my husband hopes to accomplish from your visit."

He nodded. "It's quite simple, really. Your husband has noticed that you seem sad. Distracted and sad. As your husband, he wishes only the best for you. I help people—men and women—with ... uh, issues that affect their emotions. In short, I believe I can help you feel happier than you do at present."

Charlotte felt her eyebrow arch at his presumption. "Really?

You

—a complete stranger—can assist me with my, uh, moods? Really, sir! Your impudence knows no bounds!"

"Lady Charlotte, may I speak frankly?"

"I believe you already have, sir. Pray, continue."

"I would ask you, then, my Lady, exactly what have you to lose here?"

"Pardon?"

"What have you to lose?" He smiled again. "If my methods work, then you will be happier than you are now. Surely, that would be a desirable state to attain, yes?"

She nodded.

"But if my method fails? If my—"

"If you are proven to be a charlatan?"

"Exactly," he smiled. "Yes. If I accomplish nothing, then what have you lost? Nothing. I will be proven wrong; your husband will be proven wrong. And you will have been proven correct all along. Is that not also a desirable state to attain?"

Charlotte nodded again.

"So, then. That is my proposition here. Let me work with you today. Cooperate with me fully. Either we have results or we do not. Regardless of the outcome, you win."

Charlotte hummed, thinking. The so-called "Doctor" had a point. He had a valid point. When she proved him to be a charlatan, she could use that fact ... perhaps to wrangle a concession from William. The offer seemed fair.

Finally, she nodded.

"I agree."

"Excellent!" he replied, setting down his porcelain tea cup. "Then let us begin."

*****

Had Lady Charlotte understood what was expected of her—what actions constituted "full cooperation"—she might well have balked. But she had agreed to the deal and so she found herself agreeing to the Doctor's regimen.

What a strange regimen it was!

The first thing she was to do involved taking a hot, full body, bath.

Charlotte protested. She just had her Saturday evening bath only three days ago. There was no need for another one so quickly! Yet, Gassner persisted.

"You promised me full cooperation, did you not?" he asked. She had no answer and thus, soon, she found herself immersed in the bathtub while near-scalding water and sweet-smelling bubbles covered her to her neck.

Doctor Gassner had provided the bubbles, as well as some soap oil her maidservant, Mary, massaged into her long brown hair. The massage felt good, as did the water. Lady Charlotte found herself relaxing, almost against her will.

This bath lasted much longer than usual. It lasted until the hot water became lukewarm. Then Mary helped her out of the bath, dried her thoroughly, and dressed her in a nightgown. There was nothing under the gown, at Gassner's request. No corset, no stays. Nothing. "You must feel free," he explained. "Not constrained."

Charlotte had hesitated but finally conceded to his request. After all, he was a doctor, wasn't he?

Her hair and body dry, modestly covered in the nightgown, she let Mary lead her into the room that Doctor Gassner had prepared while she was in her bath. The guest room was dark, lit only by several flickering candles. The bed was covered with a sheet or light white blanket. He sat in a chair, smiling at her as she entered. Mary closed the door behind them with a loud click. The click caused Charlotte to jump slightly.

"She will wait outside," Gassner said. "There is no reason for fear. If you have a need for her, you may call out. She will enter at once."

Charlotte nodded.

"Please take a seat." He gestured at the bed.

Charlotte sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Gassner, waiting for whatever would happen next.

"The bath ... soothing? Relaxing?

"Yes, it was," she replied. There was no reason to lie about such a thing.

He nodded. "You carry much on your shoulders, do you not? Running this household; taking care of your husband. Seeing to the servants. You have many duties, many responsibilities. And they weigh heavily on your shoulders. Yes?"

"Yes. I have many responsibilities. Nothing I can't handle, though."

"I understand completely, my Lady. Still, it is nice sometimes to relax, to let those cares and worries slip away. Such as in the bath. Such sweet-smelling bubbles; such warm water. Such a bath soothes the muscles and cleanses the spirit, does it not?"

Charlotte nodded. He was right. That bath had been wonderful: soothing and relaxing. Perhaps she should take baths more often?

"Your Mary is a good servant, is she not? Such a nice girl, she seems. Bright and lively, I should say. And very pretty, as well. I believe she has only your best interests at heart. Is that not your perception, as well?"

"Yes. She's a wonderful girl. I'm lucky to have her. Yes."

The conversation went on for some time. Innocuous questions. Easy answers. In the dimly lit room, Charlotte found herself yawning.

"Would you like to lie back on the bed?" he asked. "Just to relax. We can continue our conversation while you recline, if you like."

Charlotte nodded. She leaned back onto the bed and swung her legs up.

There!

That felt nice, didn't it?

"While we speak, I would like you to focus on the candle just to the right of my head. Do you see it?"

"Yes."

"Please keep your eyes on the candle. See how it flickers?"

"Yes, it's beautiful."

Gassner's voice was low and soothing. "Indeed it is. Keep your eyes on the candle as you relax your tired muscles. Let the worries and cares of the day slide off you, as they slid off during your bath. Feel the warmth around you, the heat of the bathwater, as it embraces your body, holding you gently. You feel so secure in the bathwater. Just let yourself relax. Feel the relaxation."

"It feels good."

"Yes, it does. It does feel good. It feels relaxing. You are becoming relaxed, loose, floating on the bed. Let yourself feel the relaxation, Charlotte. Let your muscles fall away from your body so that your soul can fly. It is so peaceful to relax the body. Can you feel that peace?"

"Yes."

"Good. You're doing very well, Charlotte. Very well. Now your eyes. Relax your eyes. They feel so heavy, don't they? Your eyes are feeling heavy and your body is feeling light. Just ... relax. Let yourself go."

Charlotte's breathing began to change, to slow down, to come from her diaphragm and her belly. Her eyes lowered, flickered once or twice, then closed.

"Keep relaxing, Charlotte. Keep relaxing. Let yourself fall as your soul rises up. Breathe."

"Um-hm."

"Can you raise your right hand now?"

The hand went up.

"Will you lower it for me?"

The hand went down.

"Good, Charlotte—so good! You are such a good girl!"

Charlotte smiled. Her eyes remained closed and her deep breathing continued.

"Tell me, Charlotte, do you love your husband?"

"No. But I do my duty as his wife."

"That's good. Everyone should do their duty. Of course you are a good wife. I'm sure he appreciates you."

"No. He doesn't."

Through gentle questioning, Charlotte proceeded to tell Gassner the most intimate details of her personal life. How her husband was cold and indifferent. How he spent so much time at his club. How they had not had relations in several years. And she told him that, when they did have relations—long ago, at the beginning of their marriage—she felt unfulfilled. There was supposed to be more between a man and his wife. She knew that fact, but she had never had anything close to what she yearned for. She told Gassner the truth: her marriage was deeply unsatisfying and, even though William was a good provider, she wished she had married someone else.

Distantly, she felt tears on her face, but Joseph smoothed them away. She felt his gentle fingers soothing her. She felt his lips on her cheeks, kissing where the tears had been. He was so kind, so gentle—so loving!

Oh!

He was the man she should have married!

"You deserve fulfillment," he told her.

Yes, she did! She deserved to be treated well, to have a deep bond with her husband.

Yes!

When Joseph asked if he could undo the buttons on the front of her housecoat, so that he could help her feel the joys of being a woman, Charlotte smiled and nodded

yes.

She felt his gentle hands on her ample breasts, his thumbs on her large pink nipples. They rose up at his touch and she gasped at the feelings. He gently pulled her coat open, his mouth found her breasts, and he suckled her for long minutes. She was moaning now, and the moans got louder as he lifted her knees up, spread her legs open, and began to rub her womanhood with his fingers while he kept sucking on her breasts.

Oooh, the feelings!

"Do you like this?" he whispered, his face next to hers now as his fingers pushed in and out of her wet cunny. "Tell me, Charlotte—do you like this feeling?"

"YES!" she screamed, and spent wetly against his hand.

A few short minutes later her breathing was back to its deep state and her body stopped its trembling. She kissed Joseph passionately, as a wife would kiss her husband. The kiss felt right, because his fingers gave her so much joy!

"Will you give back to me now, my dearest?"

She nodded. He pulled her up to the side of the bed, her feet on the cool floor. He undid his trousers and pulled out his prick, now fully erect.

"Take me in your mouth, beloved," he said, standing in front of her. "Show your man how much you worship him. Lick me. Suck me. Suck me until I spend in your mouth, then swallow my seed."

Charlotte nodded and reached for his stiff prick. He moved his hips forward, her mouth opened wide, and she closed her lips around him. Her tongue licked around his tip as her mouth sucked him. He began to push in and out of her.

She looked up; their eyes met. Blue eyes stared into black. They looked into each other's eyes as she worked him, bobbing her head and sucking him firmly. A scant few minutes later, Joseph groaned and pushed in as deep as he dared. He spent wildly, filling her mouth until his white seed dripped down from her lips. For her part, Charlotte swallowed as much as she could swallow.

"Very good, my dear," Gassner said when he could speak again. "I'm so proud of you!"

"You taste of salt," Charlotte said, smiling. "I have never tasted a man's seed before."

"Did you enjoy the taste?"

She nodded. "Yes, but I enjoyed the feeling of making you spend even more. The power of it excites me."

"I understand. Women have such power over men! But you must be cunning in the way you use your power. Your husband must never realize he is being manipulated."

"I understand."

"Good. Now lie back down. Are you still relaxed?"

"Yes. So relaxed."

"Very good. Let's button your housecoat again."

"Must we? I feel as if we are just getting started. I would like more. I would like to spend again."

"And you shall have more—with your husband."

"Not with you?" There was disappointment in her voice.

"Perhaps. Perhaps we can have this again, if you desire it."

"I do. Very much."

When the housecoat was buttoned again, Gassner returned to his chair. He poured himself a glass of water. He checked to see that Charlotte's breathing was slow and deep, and that her eyes were closed once again. He reached over and gently wiped away a bit of his seed that rested on her chin.

"Now, my dearest Charlotte, we must plan for your future."

"Yes. My future."

"You must control your husband but not let him realize he is being controlled. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand. But I'm not sure how to do that."

"I will tell you. First, you must stop arguing with him. Let him have his way, or to think he is having his way. After all, what does it matter? Let him think he is in charge. Let him think he is the head of the family. Give in to his desires. Stop arguing. Stop telling him that women are equal to men. You and I know the truth, don't we? Women are

superior

to men. What does it matter if he thinks otherwise? Do you understand?"