Anna's Affliction

Anna's Affliction, part 1

by Abe

“How old are you, Anna?” asked Uncle Wilbur.

“Sixteen, almost seventeen,” she replied.

“You are no older than our Kate, but you are dressing like a lady.  Your  hair is up, your skirts are down, and it looks as if you are wearing corsets.  Our Kate is still a girl.”  He was looking at Anna with intense interest.  She was striking, with blue eyes, porcelain skin, coppery hair, and a bosom to waist to hips ratio that was the height of fashion, the image of the fertile woman.

“Some girls mature sooner than others, Wilbur,” said Aunt  Edith impatiently.  “Well, Anna, you and Kate are sisters, now.  Your uncle and I are responsible for you until you are 21.  I'm sorry that your parents died, but you have us.  We'll take care of you.”  Edith did not mention that Anna's trust fund, intended to provide her with a dowry,  would now provide monthly payments for her support, until she married, which Edith would do her best to   prevent until the fund ran out.  “Of course, we're not as well off as your parents were.  You and Kate will have to work hard to help us to succeed.  We'll have to get you a plain frock, like Kate is wearing, and your corsets will get no use, I think.”

“Uh, Edith,” said Wilbur softly, “perhaps we should leave her dressed as she is.  Put her up front in the shop, where people can see her.  It might be good for trade.”

So, when Wilbur went off to work at the Sea View Hotel  and Edith worked behind the counter and Kate worked in the back making candy for sale, Anna was placed by the front window, where she worked, embroidering souvenir handkerchiefs or coloring black and white postcards with water colors.  Her uncle's shop sold tobacco and candy and  dozens of other more or less useless things that visitors to the beaches of Brighton might want to take back to London as souvenirs.  Immediately, Aunt Edith discovered that more men seemed interested in the things she sold, while before Anna the customers were mostly women and children.  Anna, laced tightly in her corsets, was forced to sit upright, ladylike, as she worked, with her full skirts falling to the floor and the sun gleaming off her striking hair, which contrasted with her black silk mourning dress.  Nearly everyone entering the shop would look at her for at least several seconds, but she was under orders to speak to no one.

  The repetitive work was boring, but Anna worked conscientiously, most of the time.  From time to time, however, Anna would pause in her work, get a dreamy expression on her face, breathe deeply and perhaps perspire.  “Anna!” Edith would call out, “Mind your work!”  “Anna, don't cross your legs.  It's not ladylike.”  “Anna, when a customer stares at you, you must lower your eyes and smile.”

Anna and Kate shared a bed in the back room upstairs.  Kate was very curious about the “fits” that Anna would experience at night.  Kate knew that some girls might rub themselves, between their legs, and respond as Anna did, a nasty, indecent practice, but Anna slept with her hands quite visible above the covers.  She did not touch herself  sinfully.  Still, Kate resented that Anna seemed to enjoy passionate episodes while Kate did not.  Finally, after several days,  Kate asked what was going on.

“I really can't help it, Kate.  If I press my thighs together, or if my clothing rubs me, I just get all excited.  I get warm and wet  down there.  I like it, but it can be embarrassing.”

“Anna, would you show me?  Could I watch?  I mean, we're sisters.  We shouldn't have secrets, should we?”

Reluctantly, Anna pulled up her shift and exposed herself to Kate for the first time.  Kate noted that Anna had much more pubic hair than Kate had, and it was red, like the hair on her head. Anna put one knee atop the other, so her inner thighs touched each other, and rhythmically tensed her muscles.  Very soon, Anna seemed to be in a trance, almost gasping, softly moaning, with perspiration gleaming in the candle light.  She writhed and sighed and relaxed, letting her lower limbs spread apart.

“Krikey, Anna, you have a wee-wee!  Like a boy!”

Sleepily, Anna said, “Don't be silly, Kate, I'm a girl.  I sit down to pee, same as you.”

“But it looks like a baby boy's wee-wee.  It must be an inch long.”

“Oh, that.  It's nice, isn't it?  Don't you have one?  Let me see.”  Anna pulled up Kate's shift and examined the relevant area, spreading Kate's lower lips with her fingers.  “Yes, you have one, Kate, but it's tiny.  Now, let's go to sleep.”  She blew out the candle.

Kate overcame her revulsion about touching herself.  She reached down and explored her cleft, finding the little button where Anna had a larger one.  Experimentally, she pressed and rubbed it.  It felt good, but she didn't experience the exciting fit which seemed to overcome Anna.  Maybe she needed to practice more.

By day, as Anna worked in the window, attracting admiring  glances from passing men, Kate did the dirty work, and she developed a resentment of that.  Finally, Kate told her mother that Anna was “playing with herself”, even during daylight.  It was reprehensible, disgusting, indecent, intolerable.  Edith insisted on staying with the girls as they prepared for bed, and she insisted on examining Anna, under her shift.  Anna was clearly embarrassed, but she submitted to the inspection.  Kate whispered to her mother that Anna had a wee wee, which grew if it was rubbed.  Edith fingered what her friends sometimes called the man in a boat – she had no better word for it – and, yes, it did grow and stand up like a little wee-wee.  Edith stood tall, pulled down the shift, and slapped Anna's face.  “You depraved slut!  We'll put a stop to this!”  She stalked out of the room in a rage.

The next day, as she worked, Anna again got that dreamy look.  Edith responded promptly, dragging the girl into the back room, lifting her skirts, and spanking her until Anna was crying uncontrollably.  When Edith returned to the shop,   Mrs. Wilkinson, a frequent customer, was standing there with a questioning expression.  “The girl needed a spanking,” said Edith.  Mrs. Wilkinson smiled and placed her order for half a pound of taffy.

It happened that, the next day, Mrs. Wilkinson again entered the shop.  She stared at Anna, who was supposed to lower her eyes and smile, but Anna had that dreamy look and a different sort of smile.  Edith came out from the back room and saw that Mrs. Wilkinson saw.  No explanation was necessary.  Edith snatched Anna's arm and dragged her into the back room.  Mrs. Wilkinson followed and volunteered to help punish the wayward girl.

Edith sat and pulled Anna across her lap, gathering her victim's  skirts up and revealing her drawers.  Mrs. Wilkinson said, “I've had experience with willful, immoral girls.  Let me administer the cane.”  Edith agreed.  “It must be on the bare.”  She pulled down Anna's drawers, removing them over her feet.  Anna could not resist.  Anna immediately began to cry.  She had never before been caned, even in school, and she  had learned yesterday that her aunt was merciless.

       Mrs. Wilkinson applied the cane vigorously but with precision, making bright pink welts on the pale skin of Anna's buttocks, neat parallel welts, starting at the waist, just below the corsets, and progressing downward to the upper thighs.  Anna      squealed and squirmed and pressed her thighs together even as she sobbed and  protested that it hurt terribly.  What had she done to deserve such a beating?

Mrs. Wilkinson forced Anna's thighs apart.  “See that!

She's wet!  The strumpet  likes it.  Oh, Gawd, would you see that?”  She made Anna stand and hold her skirts up in front.  “Did you ever see such a thing?  She's got a willie.”

       

       “Is that what it's called?” said Edith.  “It's abominable.  Such an affliction.”

       “No wonder,” said Mrs. Wilkinson, “that she is so depraved.  With a thing like that.  No wonder she displays such evil passions.”

       “She needs more whippings,” suggested Edith.

       “No.  See how aroused she is.  Whipping will simply arouse her passions.  You must go to the source of  the trouble.  So, do not whip her arse.  Whip that thing.”

       Anna was spared more immediate punishment by the arrival of more customers up front in the shop.  Edith  wiped  Anna's tears and led her back to her work place, now without her drawers, and made her sit silently on her sore bottom and paint the post cards while Edith served the new customers.  Mrs. Wilkinson stood by and smiled.

       When the customers left the shop, Edith said to Mrs. Wilkinson, “She must be very uncomfortable sitting on those welts from the caning.  It will be a while before she lets herself  do the nasty again.”

       As she prepared to go, having forgotten what she came for in the first place, Mrs. Wilkinson said, “This is a very interesting case.  I shall do some investigating and let you know what I find out.”  Kate had been a silent observer, unnoticed by the women.  She resolved to do some investigating, too.

       The next day was gray and rainy.  The customers were few, and Edith had need to cane Anna three different times, each time with more difficulty, as Anna resisted and squirmed and would not let  Edith cane her “willie.”

       “Well,” said Mrs. Wilkinson the next day, “It may be you will need the have your Wilbur to help you, to hold her down, unless, of course, you would prefer to have me help.”

       “Sarah, would you help?”  They were on a first name basis now.

       “Of course.  It's my Christian duty to assist in the bringing up of the young.  I've no children, myself, but I have disciplined many a servant girl.”  They summoned Anna to the back room and Kate, in the kitchen, silently spied through a door that was barely ajar.  Kate watched, fascinated, as the two women half undressed Anna and bound her, on her back, to a table, with her legs spread in a vee.  The wretched thing, the tool of the devil, peeped up through the curly, coppery hairs.  Mrs. Wilkinson, with practiced precision, brought the cane down so that the tip struck the  pink nubbin.  Anna screamed as if in fear of her life, so loudly that three passers-by came into the shop, afraid some felonious assault was taking place.

       Edith had to run to the front and explain:  “It's all right.  My daughter is making candy in the kitchen, and she spilled some hot taffy on herself.  She'll be alright.  A tiny burn, mostly fright.”

       Back in the back room, with Anna still spread upon the table, Edith had an idea.  She asked Mrs. Wilkinson to stuff  Anna's drawers into her mouth, as a gag.  Then Edith went into the kitchen. Kate stirred the hot candy and  pretended she had not heard a thing.  Edith took a ladle full of caramelized sugar and carried it back to where Anna was imprisoned.  The two women smiled as Edith poured the hot, viscous candy over the offending organ, and they watched it harden in place as Anna writhed and moaned into her gag.

       Kate reported the next morning that it seemed Anna had no more passionate fits, but the hardened candy had fallen off  during the night.

       Anna was not observed to have her “fits” for the next few days, but Edith suspected that the effect of boiling was wearing off.  When the blisters had healed,  Anna would surely return to her evil indulgence.  And so she did.

                “Stinging nettles,” said Mrs. Wilkinson.  “Stuff  nettles in her drawers, and she will be unable to bring her thighs together.  That should keep her chaste.”  The nettles had the desired effect, except  Anna was unable to work, writhing in pain, her inner thighs and bottom inflamed by the poisonous needles of the nettles. Customers asked where she had gone and were told Anna was ill, upstairs in bed.  Nettles were not the answer to Anna's affliction.

       It took Edith and Sarah and Wilbur  to hold Anna down and to bind her to the table when they again  addressed the problem of her thing.  They applied mustard plasters, as had been used on the late, mad King George, and cinnamon oil. Both caused burning sensations, great pain,  but still Anna would  sooner or later go dreamy when there was pressure or friction on the evil appendage.  Red hot sewing needles heated in a candle flame and  inserted in the “willie” were no more effective than cinnamon oil, and the sooty needles left little black tattoos.

       Mrs. Wilkinson suggested another tactic.  During the next punishment session, instead of the cane,  Sarah applied a flat iron, as used to iron clothing, and ironed Anna's bottom, leaving it red and blistered.  Then they ironed Anna's inner thighs,  to assure she would not cross her legs.  That worked, until the blisters healed, but, as with the nettles, Anna was unable to sit in the window and work.

                 It became clear to Anna that there was more to her torment than simply preventing her pleasure.  When Uncle Wilbur participated, it seemed his willie grew large and made a bulge in his trousers, and Anna learned to avoid being alone with him, for he would press her against a wall with his body and squeeze her boobies or, sometimes, grope though her skirts to rub her willie.  Once, against her will, Anna actually experienced  a sensuous “fit” as Wilbur rubbed her, and he left a wet spot on his trousers.  When she complained to him that he was doing to her what she was forbidden to do to herself, he declared that it was his duty as her guardian to  determine if the treatments needed to be repeated.

       One night, Edith checked on the girls as they slept and found that Kate had her hand between her thighs.  She sniffed the girl's shift and  detected the distinct smell  feminine secretions, proof of Kate's sinfulness.  In the morning, Edith and Sarah agreed that Anna had corrupted Kate.  Something more must be done.   It was Anna's turn to watch while Kate was disciplined, spread upon the table.  After a stern lecture about sinfulness, Sarah applied the hot needles.  Kate's little thing was barely visible, covered by the apex of her inner lips, so Mrs. Wilkinson inserted several hot needles under the covering, so as to thoroughly blister Kate's “man in the boat.”

                 Kate was cured, it seemed, for scar tissue formed around her little pleasure button so that, when rubbed, it could not grow and emerge from its hood.  Faced with the pain and frustration, Kate became careful not to rub herself down there.  Anna, however, was incorrigible and  continued to pleasure herself  at every opportunity, it seemed.

       Wilbur approached a well dressed man who was sitting   in a gazebo in the hotel gardens, reading a newspaper and smoking a cigar.  “Doctor  Hunt, Sir, may I ask you a medical question?”

       “I'm on vacation.  I am not seeing patients.”

       “It's my daughter, doctor.  She is almost seventeen, and I need to know if  a doctor can help her.  You see, she has this thing, between her legs.”  Wilbur discretely pointed.  “It looks like the willie on a baby boy, and it seems to cause her distress.  Could a doctor, a surgeon, remove it?”

       “What your daughter has is an unusually large clitoris.  Every girl has one.”

       “But could it be cut off?”

       “It is true that certain North African tribes routinely excise the clitoris, but it is generally done at an early age.  I would advise against surgical intervention.  Such an operation would be very bloody, and there would be a substantial risk of  a fatal septicemia.  If it causes her discomfort, the solution lies in protecting it from friction or pressure.”  The doctor returned to his paper and blew some cigar smoke in the direction of the lingering Wilbur.  “Good day, sir.”

       Wilbur relayed the discouraging news to Edith and Sarah.  Sarah said, “I once heard that, in the middle ages, husbands would lock their wives into iron chastity belts.  I don't suppose that would be a good idea, and I have no idea where you might find one.”

       Wilbur reflected on the doctor's advice, protection from friction or pressure.  Suddenly, he had an idea.  He removed from one of the shop's shelves a souvenir vial of Brighton beach sand.  He pulled the cork and poured out the sand, then judged the size by inserting a finger.  At the next “hurt Anna” session, Wilbur demonstrated his scientific acumen by boiling a little water in the vial and then pressing the open end over Anna's clitoris, scalding it with steam.  As the steam condensed, it formed a vacuum which drew the abused organ into the vial, half filling it, the inflamed flesh pressed tightly against the inner surface of the glass.  Wilbur announced, “If you let that fall off, Anna, we will do it again, and we both know that is painful.”

       The consensus was that the new treatment was effective.  The offensive thing could not be touched or pressed.  The vial did not show, and there were no more dreamy distractions as Anna worked.    Edith inspected from time to time and observed that Anna's pink thing seemed to grow longer daily as it was sucked into the vial.  Anna discovered that, by drawing the teeth of a comb across the vial, delicious vibrations teased her “willie.”

       One day, when customers were few because of a light rain, Edith went shopping and left Kate in charge of the counter and cash box, while Anna sat by the front window painting a composition of her own, a sunny beach scene.  Framed and sold, her paintings produced more profit than post cards.  A well dressed gentleman, perhaps twice Anna's age, entered the shop and went directly to her.  “Miss,” he said, “my name is Robert Harriman.  I have long admired you from afar, and I would very much like to make your acquaintance.  Would you do me the honor of dining with me at my hotel?”

       “I cannot, “ she replied.  “If my guardians discovered I had spoken with a customer, I would be severely beaten.”

       “And I'm here to tell them,” interjected Kate.

       “That is abominable!” the man exclaimed.  “You unfortunate person, what can I do to help?”

       Anna lowered her eyes and said nothing.  She was, of course, beautiful, and Robert Harriman would not be put off.  “Miss, I must take you away from this intolerable situation.  Will you come away with me?  I am a Scotsman; we can go to Gretna Green.”

       Anna knew that Gretna Green, just across the border from England, was where eloping couples went to get married without the publishing of bans for three weeks before the ceremony.  It seemed this man wanted to marry her.  No, much more likely he was a confidence trickster who would turn her to prostitution.  She considered very briefly whether life in a brothel could be any worse than life with Wilbur and Edith.  She stood up and offered her hand.  “My name is Anna,” she said.

       “Anna,” shouted Kate, “you can't just go away with a stranger.”  Robert took Anna's offered arm and led her toward the door.  “Anna!  What can I tell Mother?”

       Anna looked back over her shoulder and replied, “Tell her I have gone to the beach, and I am going to try to walk to France.  Tell her I must be dead.”