LET'S GET SEXY: Erotic Stories Deconstructed

Scent of Ginger: Chapter 6

Something has been brewing in the background and the doctor is determined to find out more details! Hannah has been pretty candid in her diaries but there's some important things which she has barely mentioned and now it's time for them to all come spilling out in this exciting chapter of Scent of Ginger - an erotic sex story written for the website Literotica.com by the author Case21!

The tone of this chapter shifts significantly from those we have read before and after last week, Hannah feels she has the upper hand... but how long will that last?! What will the doctor do to re-establish his dominance over her? What are his motives anyway? Is he really trying to help her move past her kinky fetishes, or is he just a horny man who wants to have risqué BDSM sex with a nubile young maid servant? Will Hannah finally get to have an orgasm after weeks of being pent up with sexual frustration and lust?

You'll have to listen to the chapter to find out!

TRIGGER WARNING: This episode contains BDSM themes, elements of non-consent and 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:: 41m
Broadcast on:: 22 Jun 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

Hello, and welcome to Let's Get Sexy, the podcast where I read an erotic story and you listen to it. How are you doing today? I'm all right, yeah, thanks for asking. I'm trying yet another sound insulation technique this week, which I'm hoping is gonna cut out some of the echo that I've been noticing. For the last few weeks, I'm not sure where it's come from this echo. I haven't knowingly changed anything about my recording setup, but I don't know, it's there in the recording. I can hear it. So I'm doing my best to counteract it by erecting what is basically a blanket fort above my recording station. Wow, I say recording station like that's a real thing that I have. No, I'm at a computer, my normal boring desktop computer with my microphone, a bottle of water, and some garden bamboo poles, which I've attached to the side of the desk and another one, which is cellotaped behind me to the back of my chair. And then I've got the largest woolen blanket I have and I've put that over the top. It's a bit like a tent in a way and I hope that makes a difference. I have done a bit of testing and I think it's working, but I guess I won't know until I listen to the full recording when it comes time to edit this episode. So there's a glimpse into behind the scenes at the podcast. (laughs) I hope you enjoyed that. And I hope you're doing all right. Thanks for downloading the podcast. Really pleased to have you with me for chapter six of Center of Ginger, written of course by the fantastic author Case 21. If you haven't listened to episodes one, two, three, four and five before this one, then I strongly suggest that you go back and listen to those ones first. Otherwise, you're gonna ruin the story for yourself. For regular fans who are up to date, first of all, good on you. And second, here's a quick recap of the things that happened in the last chapter. Hannah had spent almost a week wearing the tight corset that restricts access to her own vagina and her breasts. And if you remember, the main downsides of that and also maybe the purpose of that is that it stops her from masturbating while also keeping her just on the edge of arousal because of the pressure that the corset exerts on her erogenous zones at all times. And needless to say, this means that Hannah has become very sexually frustrated and she's finding herself tempted to push the boundaries of what's allowed. Unfortunately, she's caught wiping her bum a bit too vigorously in the bath. The head nurse notices, makes a little check next to her name and the doctor delays her release with the steam-powered vibrating dildo machine for another day, which is extremely frustrating for Hannah, as you can imagine. So much so that her urge for release becomes irresistible and later that night, she finds herself exploring her body, trying to find a way to pleasure herself even while wearing the corset. And she finds to her delight that pulling on the strap that goes between her legs causes a pain which is to Hannah something now synonymous with pleasure. So she goes crazy, she's pulling that strap like mad and unfortunately, one of the beds brings creaks. The head nurse hears it, she wakes the doctor, the doctor comes in and all hell breaks loose. The doctor threatens to delay Hannah even further, she goes wild, thrashing at herself and yanking this strap and she's doing it so hard that she's causing herself some physical damage, which the doctor notices and he orders the nurse to fetch a pair of sheers to cut away the corset before she can really hurt herself. As soon as the corset is cut away, Hannah begins masturbating furiously. (laughs) And the doctor decides that the only course of action now is to put Hannah in a straight jacket that will restrain her arms. And while the head nurse is away fetching the straight jacket, Hannah's body erupts in climax. And as she's coming, her head laws to the side where she thinks she sees a sizeable bulge in the doctor's nightgown. And there's also a little glistening wet patch there. (laughs) And as Hannah's climax peeks, the doctor seems to have a little peek of his own as he lets out a little grunt. (laughs) And then immediately hastens from the room, leaving Hannah to wonder, what is she gonna be in for next? Fortunately, she has a whole week to prepare for whatever that turns out to be, because when she wakes up the next morning, she's got her period. And it seems the doctor doesn't wanna go near her while that's going on. So she gets a little bit of a respite. And that brings us up to where we currently are at the beginning of chapter six. Obviously, I don't know what's gonna happen in this next chapter. I don't read the chapters ahead of time. I like to maintain some element of surprise for myself. And I like for you to know that the first time I'm reading this chapter is the time that I'm reading it aloud to you right now. And that also means that in the second part of the podcast, where I share my thoughts and feelings about what we've just read, we're all in the same boat. It's a spoiler-free zone, and you're getting my genuine first reaction to what we've just read. The subtitles for chapter six. This is another one with two subtitles. Ah, Hannah is taken to the forest and taught how to please a man. And also, cold kisses. It's got 2.5 thousand words. It's got a rating of 4.61 stars, which means that this chapter is rated H for hot. Finally, this has been one of the best-written stories that we've read on the podcast, and I've been so surprised that up until this point, it's been unable to achieve that prestigious award, the little red letter H that all literotica authors aspire to be awarded. This chapter has been read by 38.9 thousand people. It's had five likes, and there are two comments, which we'll take a look at at the end of the podcast. Before I start reading, I want to thank you once again for downloading this episode and ask you to like and subscribe or even leave a short review or a star rating if your podcast app lets you do that. I know there are different apps with different ways of ranking or rating podcasts, but if you haven't already given this podcast a like, a rating or a view, then please, I'm urging you, go ahead and do that while you're listening to the theme tune, because it really does help to boost the visibility of this podcast, and I'm trying really hard this year to grow the audience. If you want to take your support a step further, then there's a link to the Patreon page in the description of this episode. As always, just £5 would help to reimburse the money that I've already spent on the equipment set up that I have, and it'll mean that I can afford to get out of the blanket fort that I currently record in, and maybe get something a bit more professional, which will mean better quality episodes for you to listen to. So if you enjoy what I do on this podcast, if you listen every week, and if you can afford it, then maybe just consider it an investment in something that you enjoy. And of course, I would really appreciate your subscription. But now, please enjoy chapter six of "Sent of Ginger." (upbeat music) (upbeat music) ♪ There's a touch of it in your hand ♪ ♪ You feel the stain inside your every now ♪ ♪ You want to hide away with your thoughts ♪ ♪ But you can't afford it with close hands ♪ ♪ Just lose ♪ ♪ You'll be just screaming all night alone ♪ ♪ You tell the doctor you don't know nothing wrong ♪ ♪ He's got a mess on him but I tell ♪ ♪ The taste of wine in that awful smell ♪ ♪ The scent of ginger ♪ (upbeat music) ♪ The scent of ginger ♪ ♪ The scent of ginger ♪ ♪ Running you inside ♪ ♪ The scent of ginger ♪ ♪ You'll be just screaming all night alone ♪ ♪ With a place to hide alone ♪ ♪ Nothing wrong ♪ ♪ The scent of ginger ♪ ♪ It's got a mess on him but it's like ♪ ♪ There's nothing wrong with you ♪ ♪ He's got a mess on him but it's like ♪ ♪ The scent of ginger ♪ I expected him to punish me for my transgression. I had disobeyed his express command not to touch myself before his very eyes using his own instrument. The corset he'd crafted to deny me pleasure granted me a satisfaction all the sweeter for long suppression. I flaunted that subversion before him. My defiance ruffled his feathers, showing me a peak of what lay beneath them. The desire he felt for me revealed despite his efforts to hide it. I couldn't believe he would allow me the upper hand for long. In fact, I was not only expecting punishment, I was counting on it. As my monthly flow trickled to a halt and my energies rose again, I found myself listening for his step in the hall. I breathed deep in hopes of catching the scent of ginger on the wind. However wrong it was, my chief emotion was anticipation. Surely I thought there'll be consequences for my actions. I deserve to be punished. He will come for me. With such thoughts a whirling in my brain, it's no wonder that when I was finally ordered to appear in his office, my heart was in my throat. I followed the doorman down the long hallway to his office. The very same hallway I had dreaded to pass through before. I now trod with guilty excitement. Glancing down it in the opposite direction, I could see the door that led to the steam engine room and the very memory of it sent my nerves ringing. How angry would he be? Would he use the machine on me, or would he punish me in some other way? Through pain, humiliation, or further denial. Why did I want to see him so? I had to fight to steal my shaking hand as I knocked on his door. When I entered and curtsy to him however, I could detect not the slightest trace of anger or spite in his demeanor. He was cool, collected as always. He greeted me cordially. To my consternation he held not a crop nor a corset, but a pair of sensible overshoes. Lying across the desk beside him were a long narrow skirt and a trim cut jacket in olive grey broadcloth suitable for travel or exercise out of doors. With a terse nod, he indicated that I was to don both in the adjoining room. Get dressed, Hannah, and let us walk out on the grounds. We have much to discuss. How long had it been since I walked in the forest? Since I had left Raven's court. I was disoriented to find that the season was spring. The plain trees dropped their balls of downy spines. The privet hedges pushed out vivid emerald beads and the air was thick with the sense of mud and new life. As I strode through it all, my senses were dazzled with the discovery that such things as trees still existed. "Yes, trees still exist," my strange, unself-conscious voice murmured. "Birds exist." "Had you forgotten them?" said a sardonic voice at my back. I jumped and glanced back to see his faint mocking smile. "Had you forgotten me?" "Forgotten?" "Well, I have lost a great deal in my life. It's only natural for one such as I to remember less than others and lose herself in fantasy more," I replied, using generalities as a shield. "Your papers suggest otherwise. For instance, you seem to remember Clara." "Yes, of course, my young lady Clara." The very name, so long unspoken, brought a bittersweet smile to my lips. "Tell me about her," said the doctor. "Why should I?" "Because I ask it. Do you dispute my authority?" "No, sir," I said. But I continued walking in silence, hesitating at the injustice of being made to speak the intimate details of my childhood while he refused to discuss his own motives in history or even tell me his name. He stopped me with a warning hand on my arm and leveled his gaze at me. This is a therapeutic experiment, Hannah, and it will benefit you to cooperate. Unless you'd rather try my second line of action, solitary confinement. But that, I shook my head and began to walk again as I spoke of Clara's tale and mine. Lord Raven's Court's only child, Clara, was born the same year that I was abandoned at the manner. I was two or three years of age at that time. I was not the only one bereft. The Lord lost his lady in her child bed, whilst the babe, a slipper of a girl born too early, was sickly and not consolation enough for him. In consequence, she and I were raised together by a succession of wet nurses and nannies. We grew together, golden head by golden head, like two pigeons in one nest, or "golden and copper at least," I said, fingering my curly red hair, which Clara used to praise, though the maids mocked it, then continued. Though I was of lower station, I was yet old enough to help in caring for her, and so I became her companion, friend, and servant in one. I was her protector, she, my patron. Whatever Clara wanted me to do was done. I made lessons in reading, writing, and feminine accomplishments a game for her, but learnt them in earnest myself. Ah, yes, this then is why your diction and written expression are more refined than the common servant, he mused aloud. "Are they?" I asked in a remote voice, my mind was still on her. "You were close to her," the doctor asked. "Yes, but she's gone now." "Yes." "And you're evading the memory of what happened?" After a long pause, I began again. "No, this too, I remember." I killed her. He looked at me sharply, sucking in his breath. "I am guilty, but it's not what you think. You see, I tried to protect her, only she was a willful, capricious girl. She loved adventure, and what she wanted to do, I did always. So I agreed when one warm day in early spring, just such as this, Clara said she wanted to go swimming. She claimed to know of a spring where Nyad's bathed, and claimed that if we bade there as well, we would keep the beauty of our youthful girl's bodies forever, her very words. How old was she at this time? Perhaps ten, or eleven, and I, thirteen. Why would a lass of her tender years make such a remark about preserving your bodies? I don't. Well, yes, I do know. Being so close to me, she saw when my menses began, and observed the development of my figure. She saw how it hurt me, how it made me weep. My hand caressed my abdomen. She sought to cure me of my womanhood. "And you let her?" I was touched by her childish, sisterly concern, and I wanted to believe I could be healed of my wound, so I went with her. Of course, in her impulsive way, Clara supposed that if we simply set out in any direction, we were bound to encounter the Nyad's spring, like the heroes of ballads who find their way to ferry and back with an area map in sight. Life, however, is not so beautifully structured as literature. We wandered around the dumb dull hills as the spring skies greyed and lowered. Cloud became fog. We could not find the spring, nor find our way back before nightfall. Still, we were not so afraid, at first. Clara saw it as an adventure, and laughed at the darkness, until, well, I struggled for the words to say what happened next. In truth, the vigorous activity triggered my monthly flow, which was irregular and sometimes very heavy when I was young. Such inconvenient things never happened to Janet of Carta Ha in Tam Lin, did they? It was as if reality intruded on our game. She was distraught by the blood that stained my skirts, to the point of tears. She insisted on giving me her fine wool cloak to cover and warm me. Whatever she insisted on, I did, always, but in her summer dress, she was soaked through to the bone by the heavy mist. She caught a chill, which moved into her chest, and from this illness, she died. So raw, even after all these years, my throat closed painfully. Some figure of speech was needed to soften the hurt. "To this day," I managed, she remains, just as she promised we would be, young for all eternity in her nade's body. I kissed her cold lips once on her deathbed in farewell, and then, never again. I have not kissed another since." There was a long, thoughtful silence. "This explains many things about your dysfunction," the doctor finally concluded. "No," a swift revolt rose up in me. "It is not an explanation for me. It proves nothing except that you want a narrative, a cause, a traumatic origin for everything. Clara is part of me, but she is not the cause of my dysfunction, as you put it. I am who I am. Can't you see me here before you?" My final words echoed loud in the forest around us, much louder than I'd intended. I was shouting at him. I bit my tongue as his eyes refocused on me, like a hawks. Only then did I see the trap, the way he maneuvered me into the vulnerability of confession. I had laid myself open to him, and he was now the one to judge me. The rising tilt of his chin, and the gleam of satisfaction in his dark eyes, told me that once again, he had the upper hand. He drew closer. "Everything has a cause," he murmured to me, almost whispering in my ear. "Your sexual dysfunction has a cause. You're inhibited due to the early trauma you experienced around your bodily functions, and that inhibition can only be overcome by returning to the source of the trauma and transforming it into a proper social behavior." "Transforming behavior. How shall I?" "Kiss me. Now," the doctor interrupted. My heart constricted as if I stood on the edge of a cliff and stepped one foot into the empty air. I bulked. "No, I don't." Before I could say another word, he pulled me close and kissed my lips. I shuddered in his arms, tasting hot iron in my mouth. "On your knees, Hannah, I will teach you how to kiss a man." "Should I not learn how to kiss a woman?" I exclaimed, trying to work through his logic of cause and repetition. "Certainly not. Neil," he demanded. His hands were rushed as he pushed me to my knees, nearly frantic as he undid his trousers. He did not pull up his shirt tail, but I saw, outlined against it, that same bulge that I'd seen when he'd cut me from my corset. A woman's kisses must be sweet and gentle, Hannah. Begin at the tip and work down to start. "Please, I don't know how. I can't," I begged. At that, he seized a fistful of my hair and brought my face to his crotch. He twitched the shirt aside. I could barely comprehend what was before my eyes, it was so close, but I could feel it on my lips, and taste it. Strange and salty, so unlike the scent of my own wetness. Despite myself, my mouth opened so that my lips brushed his flesh in the faintest kiss, and at that his whole body jerked. Kiss me there and learn," he commanded. So compelled, I moved my mouth more avidly on him, eyes closed, discovering with my tongue what shape he had, the shape of a stripped branch. I said once of the shaft of ginger that he'd carved in his own image, but it was hotter and more alive than that. It moved. I was intrigued, and I realized, aroused, as my own hips began to shift in response. Instinctively, as if seeking the comparison between us, my hand fell to the cleft of my thighs, but to my annoyance, I discovered that I was kneeling on my long, tight hiking skirt, and could not lift it, nor press my fingers deeply into myself, through the thick broad cloth. Dr. Sir, I can't reach. I want to. The doctor's head, haloed in the bright sun, piercing through the trees, tilted down to me so that his face became visible, shadowing my own. A colder, more beautiful expression of triumph I have never seen. You thought I wouldn't punish you for your disobedience, Hannah? You have still not earned your release. You may not touch yourself, and you may not come. Your lesson today is to please me. Nothing more. I opened my mouth in response, but as soon as I did, he thrust his cock into it and filled it utterly, pressing rhythmically. My tongue worked around, trying to find a way out, stroking and lapping at him all the while. In a flash, I became vividly aware of my entire body, kneeling on the rough leafy clutter of the forest floor with my back, arched and straining. His hand, entwined in my copper curls, my own sex, slick and throbbing with a need that I could not satisfy. His cock pressed so deeply into my mouth, even my throat, that I felt I might suffocate. And yet, the choking sensation only increased my helpless arousal, the heat rising in me like the ginger's burn. I clutched at his hips, his bottom, pulling him forward even as I struggled, legs clenched to maintain control of myself. His breath came fast, fast gasping out, a growl growing in him like a bear's and his body, heaving, spasming. Then suddenly, oh, I choked in earnest on what came next, tears filling my eyes, but I swallowed deep and felt my body twist and fall as he pulled out to stagger back against the bowl of a plain tree. I crouched in the leaf mulch on my hands and knees for a long time, my heavy breathing eventually slowed. Nothing stirred but the wind. When something soft touched my hair, I thought at first that it was a plain tree's falling seed pod, but it was his hand brushing against my curls. I looked up, and he reached down to caress my wet cheek, wiping away my tears. That was good, Hannah. Very good. I believe at last that we're beginning to make progress. A single, gentle touch was all it took. I began to cry as I had not cried since Clara's death. I cried out my loss and frustration and fear, and though I knew it only made me more vulnerable, when he put his arms around me, I leaned into him as he stroked my back and tilted my face up to his lips. The trace of his kisses on my eyelids and my cheeks stood out, cool in the chilling air. Cold kisses they may have been, but a comfort all the same. This time, I knew the way back to the clinic. Whatever awaited me there. 2B continued. [music] There's a touch of it in your hair. You feel this thing inside your hair and hair. You want to have a way where you need your blood, but you can't defend your clothes and clothes. In your bed, you swing on high and low. You tell the doctor you don't know nothing wrong. His daughter, my son, in bedside, held. The taste of mine that all falls in. [music] Well, this was a bit of an odd chapter, I thought. [laughs] A big one in terms of learning new things about the characters. We learned a whole swathe of information about Hannah's backstory, which had previously been denied to us. But my main feelings at the end of this chapter are kind of surprise at what a significant gear shift this has been in terms of tone. And things seem different right from the beginning of the chapter, particularly when it comes to how Hannah writes about her experience at the institution. It is something which has been building for some time within her, but now we see clearly, and without contradiction, that Hannah now truly does long for the doctor's punishments. She's looking with a kind of whimsical nostalgia down the corridor at the steam-powered vibrating dildo room and stirring with anticipation at what might be in store next. Hannah's relationship with the doctor seems to have changed too. Only a couple of chapters ago, she considered him this dark and menacing figure who she absolutely feared and dreaded seeing. There was a keen sense of a hopeless power imbalance between them, which frustrated and angered Hannah. But now, she feels like she's got the upper hand, after making him jizz in his undies last time. And their relationship in this chapter feels, at certain times, laced with a flirty banter of unspoken mutual affection. They seem almost on even terms when they set out for their walk, like they're on a date together. Hannah even feels emboldened to talk back to the doctor, saying "Why should I?" when he asks her to tell him about Clara, as though she's momentarily forgotten the previously established dynamic of his absolute authority. When he rebukes her, it's a shock for Hannah. She's taken by surprise at the re-establishment of his dominance, and she feels injustice at having to tell him about her childhood, while knowing nothing of him, very keenly. Even though this is far from comparable with the injustices that she's had to endure up to this point, having to tell him about her past seems like small potatoes, when stacked up next to what happened in previous chapters. It is perhaps revealing, though, that Hannah notices the trees and birds so vividly. Is this a case of something like Stockholm Syndrome, where captives begin to sympathize and develop a strong personal connection with their captors over time? If Hannah's been cooped up for so long without a connection to nature, which we know is emotionally important to her, remember she loves it so much that she even gets pleasure from peeking out of a slightly cracked window at night. So if being dislocated from it has become a kind of new normality for her, then I can imagine that being invited to go on a walk outside with the doctor would fill her with a misplaced sense of gratitude for the opportunity. It's a clever and nefarious manipulation tactic on behalf of the doctor, overwhelming her with something pleasant after weeks of torture. The Hannah of Chapter 1 wouldn't have been made so vulnerable and malleable by a walk between the trees, but perhaps now he's broken her down to the point that even the smallest kindnesses are a huge deal. At least, I think that's the point of this whole section. I think that's what the author is trying to do here. However, putting on my nitpick as hat for just a second, I will say that there's no way that Hannah had forgotten that birds existed. I mean, not only is that a bit sensationalist, but also she was listening to them in the yard while doing laundry only a week ago, so we know that the institution isn't entirely devoid of nature in the way that the author is making out in this chapter. A small nitpicky detail to pick up on, I'm sure you'll think, but I did notice it. Another thing that happened in this chapter, we got some confirmation about the nature of the text we're reading. Answering a question that I've had in my mind for the last few weeks. And it seems that the words Hannah writes in the pages of her diary are in fact the same ones that we're reading, and the same ones that the doctor has access to. The doctor mentions that Hannah brings up memories of Clara in her diary, a detail which we read in Chapter 4, so it does seem that Hannah's writing candidly about her experiences and laying herself quite bare in her diary for the doctor to read. A risky move, I think, and one which is a bit hard to understand. If I was in Hannah's shoes, I think I'd have been tempted to present the doctor with a far more sanitized version of events and really downplay my deviances from his idea of good behaviour. Maybe though, Hannah's writing like this precisely because she wants to provoke the doctor to punish her. I hadn't considered this much before now, but I think it's likely that Hannah is writing in a way which is deliberately trying to manipulate him into doing what she wants him to do, to service her need for the exciting sensations that accompany his punishing treatment methods. What's also become clear is that we're only seeing selections of the diary, not the full article, accounting for her life day by day. It's been more than a week in the narrative timeline since Chapter 5, and I think this causes a bit of a conflict in the believability of the story's central conceit. On one hand, the author obviously doesn't want to waste time writing, or our time when reading, the parts of Hannah's life which aren't particularly interesting, and to jump straight to the good stuff. But doing this breaks the illusion that we're really reading a primary source, that the story is Hannah's actual writing. It's a difficult balance, but I think I would have been into a more immersive take on the idea, with dated entries for each day, even if some of those entries are a bit short on days where nothing significant happened. I guess it's a matter of personal taste, but for me, I love reading stories that are really immersive and make you forget the suspension of disbelief. I also don't think that it necessarily takes away from the story that we do have, even if I think that that's one of the ways in which it could be improved. In Chapter 4, Hannah denied that Clara's death was a significant factor in her struggle with mental health and her detachment from the other servants, and I said at the time that there was going to be more to the story than that. And of course, there was. We now learn that Hannah feels responsible for her death, the death of someone who was practically her younger sister. So you can imagine what an emotional strain that puts on a child, and I think it does go some way to explaining Hannah's feeling of distance and numbness to the world. Maybe one of the reasons why she's blind to the signals that other people seem to notice, like the teasing of the maid servants or the lusty looks of the groom's man, is because she's shell-shocked by the guilt of her involvement in Clara's death and cocooned inside a shell of unresolved grief. Playing armchair psychologist and also reading between the lines of the text, I think it's obvious that Hannah has associated her womanhood and her sexual awakening with these feelings of guilt and emotional pain. A link between sexuality and pain were established long before the doctor entered the scene, and perhaps there's a sense that Hannah feels that the physical pain of the doctor's treatments are in some way a just retribution for her perceived guilt in Clara's death. She's unable to experience sexual pleasure joyfully because it's all wound up in these unresolved emotions, but when she's being punished and treated badly, that gives her a license to feel momentarily absolved and allows her to embrace the usually conflicted feelings arising from her blossoming adult sexuality. Hannah blames her Pibecent transition to sexual maturity for Clara's death, and so she represses it as much as possible, but those urges can't be fully repressed. There are deep-seated need, and so she only allows those needs to be fulfilled through the physical punishment that she feels that she deserves. There's maybe also a sense that this repression is about preserving her sense of childlike innocence in a way which she might feel that Clara would have wanted her to. In the face of the impossibility of doing that, Hannah craves punishment for failing to entirely suppress her sexual urges. Hannah herself denies that Clara is the source of her troubled mind, a denial which I think comes both from a rejection that her innocent dead sister could be blamed for anything which she does. Hannah of course blames herself for everything, but I also think it comes from a subconscious resistance to further exploring this painful subject. Of course Hannah doesn't want to believe that the remedy for her numb detachment and nightly screaming, the two things which most bother her, rather than the kinky fetishes that she's developed, lie in reliving this traumatic episode and it's aftermath. It's a natural response I think, and perhaps also why we haven't heard more about it before this point. Hannah's repressing those issues, and it's something I picked up on in the first couple of chapters when we learned about Hannah's nightly outbursts. And to me it seems obvious now that these outbursts are Hannah's unresolved issues venting themselves while she sleeps in a way which she can't bring herself to do while conscious. So, with all this new information about Hannah on the table, what's the doctor's reaction to the confession of her deep trauma? What does he prescribe as a remedy to begin her journey to recovery? Of course he does the logical thing, straight out of the Victorian Psychology 101 handbook and shoves his cock into her mouth. Obviously that's the cure, there's nothing like an oral rape to help you get over the death of your adopted sister. It's the doctor's theory that the new trauma of having his unwashed, salty tasting penis forced into her mouth will knock the old one out of her head. I don't think trauma works like that, it's not like you can only have one trauma at a time, there's no one in one out policy when it comes to mental health. Up until this point, I think there's been enough ambiguity to maybe feel like the doctor's unusual treatments are just a product of the 19th century's limited understanding of medicine and women's health. Obviously, none of those treatments are going to work, but I think I've been justified in giving the doctor the benefit of the doubt that he's doing his best with the admittedly problematic period he's working in. Like, he's doing what any other ill-equipped Victorian doctor would do, but I think this is the moment where the shark has been jumped, and the visage that there's anything medicinal in his treatments has fully faded. And we get confirmation from Hannah too that the doctor's rough thrusting into her mouth is only making her more sexually aroused by the choking sensation, the opposite of what the doctor claimed he wanted for her. So I think at last we can claim, unambiguously, that the doctor is doing these things because he wants to, for his own pleasure, and it's got nothing to do with helping Hannah, or trying to cure what he might perceive as her issues. One funny little detail about the doctor is that he carved the ginger root in chapters 1 and 2 into the shape of his own penis, which seems A) unnecessary, any phallic shape would have done the job, and B) maybe a bit vain? I'm picturing him looking at his erection in the mirror while carving, trying carefully to get a good likeness, and by all accounts he did get a good likeness, because Hannah can tell with just her tongue that it's an accurate reproduction. The chapter ends with the doctor kissing and cuddling Hannah and behaving in an affectionate and, obviously, unprofessional way, which is another gear shift from previous chapters. Before this point, I thought I'd picked up a sense that the doctor really didn't like Hannah, that he finds her distasteful and vulgar, and he certainly didn't show any sympathy for her. So his behaviour now stands out as unusual to me. What's happening here? Are we seeing the doctor being moved by Hannah's plight? Does he like her? Is he harboring a secret crush? Has he been hiding that affection all this time? Maybe he's only being like this now that they're outside the institution because they're away from prying eyes that might judge him. Or is this another manipulation tactic, which he's using to expose Hannah's vulnerability so that he can use it against her later? I'm not entirely sure what to make of this whole chapter. It's been so different from previous ones. Fortunately though, I don't have to make sense of it all on my own. Two readers of this story on the website literotica.com have left comments, which I don't know maybe they will shed some light on what's going on here. So let's just take a little look at those. Okay, I can tell straight away that these comments aren't going to shed any light on anything. They're very short ones, but I'll read them nonetheless. The first one is from an anonymous who says, "An outstanding writer". Okay, no additional information or insight there. How about in our second comment from Lusher? They say, "You have a gift for writing sexual tension so thick that it cuts diamonds. This series is brilliantly done." Okay, so no. Just a couple of compliments, which is great for the writer, but not so helpful for us in trying to make sense of what we've just read. I guess we'll just have to wait until next week to see if chapter 7 gives us a better idea of what is going on here. If you're enjoying this story, then I want to suggest that you head over to literotica.com and search for the author who wrote it. Their name is Case 21, and if you search for them on the literotica platform, you'll find that they've got a back catalogue of 65 different submissions. So there's plenty there for you to enjoy. If you do take a look at any of their work, please like it, please give them a 5-star rating and maybe leave a supportive comment for them. And if you want to stay up to date with everything that they release, then there's a way to follow them on literotica.com. Thank you for downloading this episode of the podcast. If you've enjoyed it, then I want to ask you once again if you'll do me a huge favour, and maybe during the outro theme, just go on to your podcast app, give it a 5-star rating, and possibly write a short review. I'm really trying to grow the audience this year, and those little things make a huge difference to the visibility of the podcast. On platforms like Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and basically every other podcast distributor out there. So please take the time to do that, you'll be doing me a huge favour. If you want to go further in supporting this podcast, then as always, there's a link to the Patreon page in the description of this episode. Just £5 would help to reimburse me for the investments already made in the equipment to record, in the time spent to produce a weekly episode just for you. If you love this podcast, if you listen every week, and if you can afford it, consider it an investment in keeping this show on the road, and in improving it, because any money I do get will first of all go into soundproofing the room that I record in a little bit better, which will mean better quality episodes for you to enjoy. Something to think about, and of course, I would really appreciate your subscription. I'll be back next week with Chapter 7 of Scent of Ginger. Until then, I hope you have a great week, keep it sexy, and try not to forget that birds exist. Trees exist. Goodbye. ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪ ♪♪♪