LET'S GET SEXY: Erotic Stories Deconstructed

Scent of Ginger: Chapter 7

Hannah is beginning to find her feet at the institution and develop a special connection with the doctor. She's his favourite patient! I wonder why that is? Could it be that he gets to have sex with her whenever he wants and she is a horny demon for whatever erotic punishment he throws at her? Maybe its that she writes detailed accounts of all the orgasms he gives her and he likes reading them?

Whatever the reason, a certain level of trust seems to have grown between the pair and now Hannah is ready to put all of her progress on the line and be tested. If she fails, life is going to get much worse for her. If she succeeds, she might even be allowed to masturbate again! How sexy! Maybe too sexy...

Find out what is in store for Hannah and whether she is able to satisfy the doctor's criteria in this next excitingly erotic chapter of Scent of Ginger - an erotic sex story written for the website Literotica.com by the author Case21!

TRIGGER WARNING: This episode contains BDSM themes, lots of kinky fetish type stuff and some elements of non-consent. There's also a bit of a general spooky, dark atmosphere which some may find disturbing... others, of course, may absolutely love that kind of thing!

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Duration:: 47m
Broadcast on:: 29 Jun 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

Hello and welcome to Let's Get Sexy. It's the podcast where I read an erotic story and you listen to it. How are you doing today? I'm alright. Yeah, thanks for asking. Just enjoying a traditional cloudy British summer. There's nothing like the feeling of getting out your summer jumpers, is there? Anyway, I hope you're doing alright. Maybe you're listening to this somewhere where it's warm enough that you don't even need a jumper. That would be mad. But wherever you are, I'm glad to have you with me for chapter 7 of Cent of Ginger. The fantastic story written by author Case 21 that we've been featuring on Series 9 of the podcast. If you haven't listened to chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6, then I'm gonna warn you that listening to this one before listening to those ones is gonna reveal a few spoilers which you might want to avoid. So I strongly recommend that you go back to the beginning of this series and listen to them in chronological order. For the true fans, those who are up to date, here's a quick recap to refresh your memory on what happened in the last chapter. Hannah and the Doctor went for a country walk outside the institution and Hannah spilled the beans about the unfortunate death of Clara, the late daughter of the master of Raven's court manor, and also something of an adopted sister to Hannah. And it's clear that Hannah feels guilty and responsible for that death, something which the Doctor is convinced is the root of Hannah's disorder. And he immediately goes about administering his... his approach to medicine in the form of forcing her to give him a blowjob. Hannah was quite resistant at first, although by the end she did find herself enjoying it. Unfortunately, her tight Victorian walking skirt meant that she couldn't reach her vagina to masturbate while she was giving the blowjob, which was frustrating for her. And after the blowjob was finished, it was this frustration mixed with the re-emergence of her grief over Clara's death, which brought Hannah to tears and gave the Doctor an opportunity to put his arm around her in comfort and also steal another kiss. And I guess the conclusion of that chapter was that Hannah has pretty mixed feelings about her circumstances. She feels like she's made herself quite vulnerable to the Doctor, but she's also excited to see what might happen next. Obviously for me, I don't know what might happen next. I don't read the chapters ahead of time, I like to maintain an element of surprise. And that means in the second part of the podcast when I discuss my thoughts and feelings about this chapter, it's a spoiler-free zone and we're all in the same boat. I can, however, tell you about the statistics for this chapter. It has 3.6,000 words, it's got a rating of 4.52, which means it is rated H for hot. It's had 50.5,000 views, 10 likes and there's one comment which we'll take a look at at the end. Before I get reading, I want to thank you for downloading this podcast and remind you that there's a link to the Patreon in the description of this episode. But now, I hope you'll enjoy chapter 7 of SENT OF GINGER. [Music] There's a touch of it in your hair. You feel the stain inside your every now. You want to hide away with your love but you can't afford it but trust me in clothes. In your bed, you swing all night alone. You tell the doctor you don't love them all. He's got a mess on him that's at hell but takes divine with that awful smile. The SENT OF GINGER. The SENT OF GINGER. Then in your inner side, the SENT OF GINGER. [Music] The doctor and I had reached a turning point. He referred to it as a "breakthrough". I would call it the point at which I compromised or was compromised depending on how one sees it. At any rate, I realized for the first time that if I could please him enough, I might be able to convince him that I was recovering from my dysfunction and persuade him to grant me the pleasures I desired. Though what sort of pleasures I actually wanted still eluded me. My body yearned for bondage and liberation at once. A contradiction which confused me endlessly. Still, it seemed to me that submitting to the doctor's program offered me a way to work through my confusion. At the very least, I could offer my obedience in exchange for certain small concessions. Sir, I ventured when we next met. Since our conversation in the forest, I'm beginning to understand a little of the nature of my treatment. It's necessary for one such as I. "Is that so Hannah?" he smiled, hemering me. "Pray tell, what have you understood?" I have long sought to cure my night voice and and other behaviours myself through writing. But for me to cure myself in this way is like a dog trying to cure itself of fleas by biting its back. It only causes more damage in the end. The dog must be cleaned and collared so that it will not harm itself while it heals. Your efforts to teach me restraint in handling my body are quite like this. "An apt image, my girl," replied the doctor. "I see that you're teaching me not to bite, and I truly don't wish to harm anyone, myself or you. I wish to be good, I wish to be healed, and so..." "Here I took a deep breath before forcing myself to continue." "I will cooperate with you fully in my treatment from now on." "Splendid," he said. His skeptical amusement I fancied held a note of genuine approval. I drew on this in broaching my next request. "I will not bite any more, sir, if I can help it. And yet, the dog that is starved snaps at meat instinctively. The dog that is whipped flinches and snarls unable to help itself. If I am to be docile and obedient for you, I must to be sated and soothed in some ways." "What is it that you're angling for, Hannah? Put aside your roundabout feminine metaphors and speak plainly." "Yes, sir. What I propose is a compromise. I will be obedient to you in every respect when it comes to my treatment, but I should like to access my own sources of pleasure as well, when it is acceptable to you." "Such as?" "Books, sir, paper, ink, and your permission sometimes to explore my own body as I see fit." At this he looked thoughtful. He deliberated a while before answering. "Your desire for these things is a symptom of your condition, I think. We'll need to test your ability to practice restraint and decorum, and to find appropriate releases, before you can be trusted to take your treatment into your own hands again." "I will agree to be tested. Whatever conditions you set, I will meet them." "And if you should fail, and it becomes necessary to punish you again?" "I would accept that as well. Please punish me when I deserve it. I will learn." "Then it is decided. We shall find out what you can do." Throughout the spring and summer, the doctor and I worked intensively on my training, or as he called it, my therapy. He had other patients to attend to as well, but I could tell that he put me first. He met with me several times a week for sessions in which my mind, voice, and body were all subject to his programme of discipline. As part of my duties, I wrote out detailed descriptions of all the sessions afterwards, a full record of my treatment that would span volumes. As I flick at the edges of these pages, however, some seem to catch at my fingertips and stand out, like the flash of brilliant leaves falling scarlet and gold among the greens of a kindling autumn. Among the scarlet memories I have are the times I failed to control my impulses, the times I was punished. All of my punishments were somehow symbolic, reflecting my transgression so that I could better recall the slips and discipline myself in the future. At first, it could be something as simple as wearing a gag to correct an interruption or impertinence in my speech. I was also literally collared at times to remind me of the figure of the collared dog that I had used. He did this especially when I pulled away from being touched or refused to touch him. Though I have always had an aversion to anyone touching my body, he said that I needed to be tamed to it in order to one day do my duty as a wife. The feeling of the leather band clasped around my sensitive throat. The sensation of him pulling it as he stroked my breasts and belly from behind was at once a gall and a strange sort of pleasure for me. But these were fairly minor incidents. At other times, the punishment itself became a major test of my ability to control myself under pressure. I had been arguing with him about a point of my etiquette training. He wished me to demonstrate that I could properly set a formal dinner table, but I insisted that I had learned this material as a servant already. I stated that I wanted to learn useful new skills implying that what he taught me was useless. I admit that I had been pushing the limits of good conduct that day. I had not been allowed to release for quite some time, and even the prospect of punishment was beginning to seem increasingly appealing. "Has it occurred to you that I may have a better sense of what I know and what lessons I need than you do," I asked boldly. "Don't presume, Hannah," he warned, "brow darkening." "Is speaking the truth presumption?" "Questioning my judgment is presumption, and I will not have it. On your knees, now." "Yes, yes, sir." I could barely keep my breath from going shivery. I hoped for the gag, the feel of his fingers brushing back my hair, the metal bit smooth and hard between my lips. My perverse body was reacting already, flushing wet at the thought. I must have betrayed myself by my blush, or the wildness in my eye, the doctor catching sight of me suddenly paused. "Ah, I see how it is," he said, dropping the gag back into his desk drawer and shutting it with a finality. "I bit back a groan." "This will not do. You've gotten quite good enough at releases. Now you need to learn your lesson before you take your pleasure. But how to make you see that?" He gazed at me with that disturbing abstraction of his until a wicked gleam came into his eye. He had an idea. "Get up, Hannah. Return to your room and study your volumes on household management well. In three days' time, I will require you to prove that you can lay and serve a formal dinner for myself and a guest of my acquaintance. And you will do it under conditions that require your utmost concentration. I warn you now, take care and do not treat your task lightly. Your failure would be an embarrassment to this institution, and your therapeutic sessions with me would necessarily be at an end. I will not hesitate to commit you to an asylum for incurable cases," understood. He had never set me such an intimidating task, nor threatened me with such grave consequences before. I rose, curt seed and whispered, "As you say, sir, vowing to do my best." I studied hard. I honestly did, so when the time came to prepare the dinner table, I was fairly confident in my abilities. I had, after all, served the high table at Raven's court many times when Clara was alive, and her doting uncles and aunts came to visit. The etiquette had not changed greatly since then. I had reviewed thoroughly and was certain of my skill. However, just as I was preparing to dress in the maid's clothing I had been given, there came a perfunctory knock at the door, and the doctor entered. I hastened to cover my half-naked body out of habit, but with a gesture of his hand he commanded me to stand still, so I straightened and stood before him, my breasts bared with just my bloomers on. Before you dress, there's one additional item you'll be required to wear during the evening's service. He spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. "You will find it familiar, I don't doubt." "The corset?" "Oh, no. Oh, yes. I can at least work with that," I thought rationally. But I was wrong. He had an earlier memory in mind. "Lower your bloomers and spread your legs," the doctor ordered. Then, from his doctor's bag, he brought out a harness. A harness worked in leather with something long and pale attached to it. The sharp, rich scent of ginger filled the room. I began to tremble but didn't dare protest. I had agreed to be tested, and he knew my weaknesses through and through. My desires, my torments. Oh, how he knew them. Obediently, I lifted my bare feet and stepped into the harness as the doctor held it before me. He pulled it up. The root glistened, slick with juice, and seemingly massive. With deliberate cruelty, he slipped the shaft in just lightly between my lips and tilted it up, spreading its oils onto my delicate folds so that the entire length of my sex would feel it when the burn began. My nipples grew taut, and my entire body quivered minutely with the effort of standing still and holding my moans in. He centered the ginger directly over my hole, and pressed it in with agonizing slowness, half penetrating me, and then withdrawing again and again. I held my breath. Then, with sudden, shocking violence, he thrust the root entirely in, filling the inside with its shaft of heat. He pulled the harness tight and buckled it in the back, the same kind of locked buckle he had used on the corset. I couldn't get it off. I was bound tight. Your task is twofold, little Hannah. You must lay the table and serve my guest with all dew etiquette, as you claim to be so adept at doing, and you must maintain perfect control of your carnal impulses. Should you slip, we will all see you for the incurable masochist that you are, and I will have no choice but to send you to an institute more suited to your condition. Understood? My voice cracked as I replied. Understood, sir. Now, now, you'll have to do better than that at dinner. Until then, I could barely walk without stumbling as I set the dinner to prepare for the doctor and his guest. The ginger inside me caused the most intense sensations of burning arouse or possible, and yet, just as in my fever dream, I was not able to find release without some more direct stimulation. I had to walk very carefully to prevent my undergarments from chafing my swollen clitoris. A difficult task, given that the lightest touch of linen there seemed amplified a hundredfold by my heightened sensitivity. I gasped on the edge of climax several times and had to stop against the wall to collect my bearings. I sensed that the doctor was watching me from somewhere, but I could not tell where. I hoped that he was not counting this private struggle against me. Imagining myself under his gaze, I straightened my skirts, stood tall, and tried to turn my slowness to a swaying grace. Swaying my hips made the ginger burn more than ever, but the way I wanted to move in cultish leaps was ridiculous. I had to conduct myself properly. I could already hear the doorbell sounding, imperious echoes in distant corridors. I stationed myself in the servant's niche between the table and the passage to the kitchens, took a deep breath, and composed my face into an expression of pleasant blankness. It was a lucky thing that I had such a firm grip on myself by the time they entered, because had I not, I might have exclaimed in surprise. The doctor's guest was no stranger at all, but someone known to me, Lord Ravenscourt's youngest brother's son, Godric. I had seen him a handful of times in my childhood. He was a boisterous youth who acted as if he owned Ravenscourt when his father Godfrey brought him to visit Clara. It had been some 10 years since he last saw me at her funeral, and he showed no sign of recognizing or even noticing me. He and the doctor were deep in familiar conversation. Wine, the doctor's tone of command suddenly rose out of the stream of discourse. I stepped forward as quickly as I dared to pour the wine, first Godric's, and then the doctors. As I stood beside him, the doctor trailed one hand up my inner thigh underneath the high table with one finger, and then, too, he stroked between my legs, pressing my sensitive flesh through my dress. I splashed a glug of red wine into his glass, pouring far too fast. It was only by luck that no drops build onto the white cloth. I stepped back as smoothly as I could to return the decanter to the centre of the table. I quickly learned to brace myself when approaching the doctor, for he took every opportunity during the meal's many courses to fondle my unbearably aroused body unseen. I could not even glare daggers at him, for Godric, sitted across from us, could plainly see my face if he chose to look. My humiliation was complete, and completely intense. My mind was taken up with many things then, and yet, even in this state, I could not help but hear the conversation of the two men. It was intriguing, for one so sheltered as I. Gossip from the surrounding manners, allusions to scandals in London town, whose true meanings I could only get at. Finally, Godric brought the discussion around to a matter that concerned the doctor. You have, of course, heard of our dear friend, the Countess of Sea's daughter, Atheo? Theo, the doctor's given name was Theo. I grasped it, like a feather plucked from a gale. Ah, yes. What has our poet has been up to now? Causing a bother, apparently, seems to fancy herself quite the aphilia of late. Been mucking around in the lakes, has she? Oh, I say, it's all quite dramatic. Half-drowned, she was, when they found her. A taste of your therapy might be in order. What? The doctor frowned. Is that why you came to dinner, Godric? You didn't even have bothered. Such cases are not within my purview. Ah, well, it may interest you to know that her beloved Hamlet is, by all accounts, a Hamlet. Devotees of Sappho, both of them, so I've heard. Ah, perhaps then, do give Countess Sea my card. I will consider the case. Good man. Now, how about some Brandy? Certainly, Brandy? There was a long pause. The doctor looked pointedly at me and said, "The Brandy girl!" I jumped, my attention suddenly returning to my service and the state of my body. I cursed myself for the slip and scurried to obey. I had to go to the sideboard for the Brandy, and the brisk walk brought the ginger's fading glow to life again. I was flushed as with a fever by the time I returned to the table. "You're made blushes, prettily," Godric remarked. "She does, doesn't she?" The doctor replied, with a small, knowing smile. "Best to keep this one away from Countess Sea's daughter." Both men laughed. I moved discreetly to the wall, returning only to refill their sniffers. I suffered in silence there, until finally the chime sounded midnight, and Godric took his leave. The instant Godric was gone, the doctor returned to the dining hall and gestured for me to follow him to his office. His face was grave. I was very nearly in tears, thinking that surely he would condemn me for my slowness to respond and my obviously flushed face. But once we got into his sanctum, he turned to me with a laugh and said, "Ha-ha! You've done wonderfully! He didn't suspect a thing." But my blush, he said, "Oh, Godric says such things of all the pretty maids. The rogue, you were splendid." "I, I, thank you, sir," I stammered. "Now, please, may I, oh, take it out?" "Ah, yes, the ginger, of course," he replied disingenuously, as if he had forgotten about it. He rose at a casual pace, watching me squirm desperately out of my uniform and underclothes. He crouched in front of me and unlocked the harness by touch, reaching behind my back so that he could watch as he drew the ginger out of me. "So wet," he murmured. I very nearly convulsed at the sensation of ginger slithering out between my lips, drooling strands of fluid across my full thighs. "Oh, please, please," I begged incoherently. "At this, the doctor smiled." "Why, you're quite hysterical, Hannah. In cases like this, the most recommended treatment is the pelvic massage. Lean your backside against the desk here, and open for me." I pressed my bottom against the hard edge of the table, leaning back with my arms braced on the desktop. I spread my legs with shameful eagerness. The doctor removed his fine evening coat. Then he began to run his hands down my abdomen to my thighs and back up. He massaged my flesh, stimulating circulation, and also the flow of my juices. With each breath, I gave a little whimper, and with each stroke he grew closer to my slick, gasping sex, until finally his fingers found their way between my lips. He stroked into me deep, so deep, and then pulled up to my weakest point, where it hurts and elates me the most. He squeezed my budding tissues hard. I cried out, "No!" but I wanted more than anything for him to continue, so hastily I added, "You too! I want to please you too. Show me how, my doctor." "Hmm. You've been a good girl tonight, but there can be no scandal here. No child, by any means." "We can't?" "Then do anything. Anything else you can think of." "Let us try the Greek way then," he said. "Turn around." I did so, placing my hands palms down on the table before me. With a rustle, I heard him shed his waistcoat and trousers, and then, coming up behind me, he slid his cock in between my upper thighs. He did not penetrate me, yet he pumped the flesh of my legs and bottom in a way that stirred me beyond belief. As he held me to him, he twisted my nipple hard in his fingers, the pain, lancing down my belly and sending a jolt, not unlike the steam machine's vibration through my sex. We were both gasping hard with one rhythm. "Hana! Hana!" he called rapturously. At the sound of my name, I cried out in joy, and my body soared. As my peak arrived, I called back to him, "Theo!" The first of my spasms racked me sweet and high, but suddenly the heat of his body against mine vanished. Glancing back, I saw that he had pulled out. He was still very hard, leaking fluid, but not the rush I expected to see. "Never! Never! Call me by that name!" he wailed. He collapsed into a chair at the desk, holding his head in his hands. At that sight, my eloquent night voice burst from me unbidden. "Doctor, Doctor Sir, I'll never do it again if it hurts you, but please, I want you. I want you to take me. If you have something, what the maids call a capot to keep the scandal from our door, then use it. Only we need release, both of us. We can't think in this state, take me, and when we're calm again, and the energies are dissipated, you can say whatever you need to me, or send me away." He looked up at me, his dark eyes burning, half-mad with lust, and yet needing to regain control of the situation. I had never realised how harshly he must have been restraining himself until that moment. To show my absolute submission, I knelt down before him with tears in my eyes and said, "I beg you, I beg you for what I cannot stand and have never wanted before. Penetrate me, use me. Then confide in me, as I have in you. If your power over me can connect us, then you have the power already. My body is yours. Let us join over that." For three, four, five heartbeats, we were frozen in an engraved tableau. Myself, naked and flushed on my knees before him, and he, equally naked, at the desk, with his sweat dampened hair in his eyes like the fallen angel of Paradise lost, sunk in sensual torment. Six beats, seven. "Yes," he said quietly. He stood and approached me. "Now you will learn it all." To be continued. To be continued. There we are, chapter seven in the bank, and another really interesting one. It's left us kind of on the precipice of maybe the next stage of Hannah's treatment. So I tell you what, I'm really excited for next week. That sound you could hear then was my hands robbing together in anticipation. Let's talk about this chapter though, and let's start at the beginning as always, because in the setup for the main action of this chapter, I thought there was a sense that Hannah has learned to play the system a bit, conceding some things to the doctor in order to bargain for other things that she wants to gain. And I'm not sure if this is a sign of Hannah's power increasing, or whether this is emblematic of her broken spirit and acceptance of her powerlessness. The Hannah of earlier chapters seemed far more rebellious and feisty, bucking against the system in a way which feels true to her inner feelings. Now we see her cleverly manipulating the system, which maybe gets her the thing she wants, but I think there's also something sad about it. There's definitely something uncomfortable about hearing Hannah talk about herself in terms of a trained dog. She's even willing to sacrifice notions of her humanity, which she claims was very dear to her in previous chapters, just in the hope that the doctor might reward her for her subservience. Before now, even the concept of Hannah having a disorder, or needing to be healed by the doctor, was openly resented, but now she tells the doctor desperately that she needs his help, and she's really thankful for his treatment. So on the surface at least, it does seem like Hannah's lost a bit of her independence. In the end though, I suppose it comes down to whether you believe that she's being genuine, or whether she's just pretending to comply, in order to make her life a bit less unbearable. I like to think that she's keeping a spark of her rebellious independence alive, deep down inside, but honestly, I'm not sure if that's just my own wishful thinking. I think in a way, I'm still holding on to the idea that Hannah's going to get some kind of revenge on the doctor for the pain that he's caused her, by the end of the story, that she's going to find a way to escape and live a happy life away from restrictions on her sexuality, a place where she's free to enjoy herself in whatever way she wants to. In the end though, maybe I'm going to have to come to terms with the fact that that's not what this story is about. Maybe the only "happy" ending for Hannah is one where she has to content herself with conforming to the puritanical expectations of womanhood that the Victorian period imposes on her, which is to say, no happy ending at all. This story is called "cent of ginger", but it has been a few chapters without Hannah having any ginger root inside her, so I guess the author felt like it was about time to reintroduce some. And although the descriptions of Hannah's discomfort as she serves the two men dinner are less graphic and disturbing than they were in the first chapter when we were introduced to the concept of "figging". I think that this is where the horror of that first introduction comes into play. I've said before that I thought that first chapter was so horrific and shocking on purpose. It was designed to shock us. And after reading this chapter, I'm beginning to think that it was so viscerally described so that it can be referred back to in later chapters. And that means they don't have to go into that kind of detail every time, because the memory of how awful it was in chapter 1 retains a lot of its power. I have been feeling for the last few chapters that that first one was maybe a bit unrepresentative of the entire story, just in terms of how harsh and horrible the doctor is to Hannah, but also in terms of how uncomfortable this story is going to be to read. And I think now I can see why that was. And I have to say that's kind of a pro-author move to trust that that first description of the horror is enough to just carry on through the rest of the chapters without having to specifically detail everything in that level of visceral detail every time. I feel like sometimes in erotic stories that I've read in the past for previous series, there's a temptation for authors to rehash the same details that they feel are important again and again in every chapter. And that's kind of an attempt to keep the reader in touch with the reality of the characters. But when it's repeated so often, it definitely loses a lot of its power. So it's a brave and very confident move for this writer to trust that the things that they set out in chapter 1 were impactful enough that they hold that impact and power over the reader even 7 chapters later. And so I feel like I want to give case 21 some kudos for doing that and let them know that it absolutely worked. I will say though that it's not that this chapter is without its cruel moments, particularly it did seem unnecessarily cruel for the doctor to beat around the bush so much, pun not intended, at least not initially, but now now I've said it I'm embracing it, when he's inserting the ginger, ramming it in hard the final time. How does that help Hannah? Isn't just wearing the ginger harness enough of a challenge for her? I feel kind of the same way about the doctor covertly molesting her every time she comes to the table. Is this helping her? I think perhaps again it's more about him helping himself, as is so often the case with this doctor. However, it's also a risk for him too. As he says, Hannah failing this challenge would also bring his reputation into question. So he's doing this probably against his better judgment. Is this a calculated move on his behalf? Or is it something impulsive? What feelings might he have developed for Hannah? If he has developed feelings for her, then would he really follow through with sending her away, if she fails? On the other hand, maybe there aren't any personal feelings, and the doctors just out to satisfy his carnal lust. Is it part of the test? Is it designed to test Hannah's resolve? We do know that she has a stronger version to being touched by another person, so I think it is conceivable that this is just part of the trial to see if she can tolerate it under pressure, as he believes she'll have to do once she's married. The circumstance which his treatments are supposed to be preparing her for. As a side note, and I don't know whether this is something that everyone will feel, but I find it incredibly cringe when the doctor calls her little Hannah. I do think that I have an aversion to cutesy pet names in general, but I think it's also about how calling her little highlights that power imbalance between them, and her helplessness in contrast to his absolute authority and control. Which, even though I hate it, I have to admit, is a clever trick from the author, to create that feeling in the reader. It's just another subtle thing which builds and maintains your emotional buy-in and sympathy with Hannah. The doctor's guest was a surprise, to me as well as Hannah, but for a different reason. I'd expected it to be somebody from the past, and I was thinking that it would be the master of Raven's court manner. What I didn't expect was for it to be a completely new, previously unmentioned character, which struck me as odd, and I did think it took away from the flow of the narrative a little bit. It definitely would have had more impact if we'd learned about the existence of the master's brother's youngest son, Godric, before now. Maybe this is me with my nitpickers hat on, and perhaps it's only a small thing, but I do feel like if you're going to make a point of having the main character recognize somebody and be surprised by it, like the recognition is the surprise, then I think it works better if the reader also gets to share in that recognition. Without knowing who Godric was, it falls a bit flat, and it gives an impression of inconsistency in the world I think, like new characters can just pop up at any time without explanation. It's also not a very 19th century thing to do in your writing, because usually books from this time go to enormous pains to mention long lists of side characters and all their relations. Not that we need all of that here, I'm just saying that it would have made this scene a lot more powerful if we'd heard about Godric in an earlier chapter, even just a passing mention would have been enough. And now that I'm thinking about it, it's an interesting detail for the author to have chosen to include, at all, the fact that he's somebody who Hannah recognises is of absolutely no consequence to the narrative, at least as far as we know by the end of this chapter. He doesn't recognise her, and it doesn't seem as though it factors into the doctor's plan either. So, does it serve a function, or is it just a banal coincidence? Did the doctor arrange to meet with him specifically for Hannah's benefit? Is he even aware of the relation? We just don't know. During the meal Hannah gets to hear a few snippets of conversation between the doctor and Godric, and the bit that we hear some detail about I thought was pretty heartbreaking and callous. The reference to a woman whose unacceptable homosexuality has driven her to "go a bit of filia", a reference of course to Shakespeare's famous play Hamlet, and his betrothed who drowns herself when grief-stricken by his actions. It's such a sad story, but they play it off so nonchalantly, like it's just another silly woman being silly, as if we need a reminder of how awful men are to women in this depiction of the 19th century. On top of that, it now looks as if she's going to have to undergo a doubtlessly painful conversion therapy at the institution, following her failed attempt at suicide. And in a way, I think this girl's story is going to end up being a rougher and sadder one than Hannah's might be, because I think at the end of the day, it's conceivable that Hannah could just play by the rules for as long as it takes for the doctor to pronounce her cured of her perversions, and then if she marries somebody with maybe a kinky side, perhaps she'll get to enjoy her deviant sexuality to at least some degree with her husband away from prying eyes. For this woman, her lesbianism isn't likely to be something she can pretend to have cured, and in the long term, she's going to be made to marry a man with whom there can be no happy ending. Of course, Hannah doesn't want to marry either, but I think you can say that it will be less of a devastating outcome for her, especially with the right man, if indeed there are any decent ones in the world of this story. Perhaps Hannah might be satisfied with a man a bit like the doctor. It is confusing though. Does Hannah want the doctor or not? It's hard to say for certain. When they're alone in his office at the end of the chapter, does she ask him to join in purely because his clitoral massaging was too intense and she accidentally let her no slip out? Or is she starting to crave the feeling of seeing his pleasure too? The pleasure of giving somebody pleasure. Perhaps she's looking for a kind of repeat of what happened a couple of chapters ago, looking for another opportunity to regain some measure of power in the dynamic by pleasuring him, and making him come. Certainly, it must have felt like a victory for Hannah to hear the doctor calling her name out loud as he nears the edge. When the doctor suggests the Greek way, I thought that was going to mean anal sex. That's where my mind went. Something I think about ancient Greek boy prostitutes being aimly used came into it, and especially when he tells her to turn around. I was thinking, oh no, poor Hannah, she wasn't expecting that. But apparently, that's just the Victorian slang for a thigh job. Is thigh job a real thing? I've definitely heard of it, although I'm not sure if it's in common circulation or not. In any case, I think that that was a deliberate mislead by the author. I think that they were banking on us presuming it would mean anal sex so that they could subvert the expectation that Hannah's in for another ordeal, and catalyze the relief that she is in fact going to get her climax after all, or so it seems at the time. Because as we're learning, his typical of Hannah, things didn't exactly go smoothly. Earlier in the chapter, we learned that the doctor's name is Theo, or at least that's what Godric calls him. This tiny crumb of information is treasured by Hannah, who has for so long been deprived of any details about the doctor, and feels a keen injustice in the disparity of knowledge about each other between them. But then, just at the wrong time, she calls his name out loud, and the magic of their passionate union, a moment where they were, to a degree, on even footing together, is shattered. Why is he so sensitive to Hannah calling him by his name? Is it perhaps not his real name? Perhaps Godric, a man whose social station is doubtlessly above the doctors, uses it to spite him in some way, the doctor forced to endure it because of their relative inequality. Or if Theo is his name, is this more about the power balance between him and Hannah? Perhaps her using it is a jolting reminder of his professional responsibility, and in that moment he realises that she has power over him, or perhaps that she's becoming too close. It's also at this time that Hannah has a realisation, that the doctor has been restraining himself all this time, although if you ask me, you wouldn't know it from reading what we've been reading. But for Hannah, there's a feeling almost like sympathy which overcomes her, and I think that's curious given how much worse things have been for her in terms of having to show restraint. What an empathetic person Hannah must be, to think of him in this moment, when, in my opinion, she still has every right to hate the doctor, and yet she writes about viewing him like a fallen angel, perhaps seeing in herself a chance for his redemption, a real turning of the tables in some ways. Whatever the reason, the sudden withdrawal of pleasure right at the edge of Hannah's climax is devastating, and it sends her into a kind of feverish tantrum of begging and pleading for him to penetrate her. Even though up until this point Hannah's been very clear that she does not desire penetration, in fact it's something which kind of repulses her, along with the potential motherhood that might come along with it. And yet there she is, selflessly it would seem, offering herself up to him. Something which the doctor seems to recognise has a sign that she's ready for some new stage of treatment, which is a tantalising way to end the chapter, I think. And as I said, I'm really excited for the next one. I did say at the beginning that there were some comments to read, so let's have a little look at those. Righty ho, there's only one comment actually, but it is quite a long one, so buckle up. It's from Death and Taxes, who says, "Five stars, not enough. If it were possible to give more than five stars, I would not hesitate. This series is so appropriately and decadently written for this particular niche in time, and evolution in our understanding of sexuality and the body. We had ideas about sex and lust, so darkly twisted around at that time, and you have woven these characters perfectly into the warped threadwork of the day. The repressed confusion and torturous way that the bodies still refuse to be denied, despite the mental hoop-jumping required at the time, makes for one hot story, and your writing style is delicious as well. All this, because I did a search of literotica for "figging". Well done you. Ha ha ha ha. Wow, so there was somebody out there looking specifically for "figging" stories. And Death and Taxes is that person. Apparently this was right on the money for them. If you've been enjoying this story, then I want to encourage you to head over to literotica.com and search for Case 21 as an author. They've got 65 submissions on their profile, and if you do decide to read any of their other work, I'm sure that they would appreciate a five-star rating, maybe a like, or maybe even a short complementary comment. If you want to stay up to date with everything that they release as it comes out, then you can follow them on the literotica website. Thank you for downloading this episode of the podcast. If you've enjoyed it, then I want to ask you to do me a huge favour and hit the like button, give it a five-star rating, please write a short review of what you like about the podcast, or even of anything that you don't like, or any suggestions for how to improve it. I'm all ears. The main thing is that that kind of engagement really helps to boost the visibility of the podcast, and I'm trying hard to grow the audience base this year. So you'll be doing me a huge favour. If you want to go a step further, then as always, there's a link to the Patreon page in the description of this episode. Just five pounds or five dollars would help to reimburse me for the money already invested in the equipment that I use for this podcast, and it would allow me to go on investing in a better setup, which ultimately will mean higher quality podcasts for you to enjoy. So if you love this podcast, if you listen every week, and if you can afford it, I would really appreciate your subscription. I'll be back next week with chapter eight of Cent of Ginger. Until then, I hope you have a great week. Keep it sexy. Don't forget to study your handbook of dining table etiquette, and goodbye. [Music] [Music] [Music] [Music] [Music]