A Cure for the Afflicted - Sex Stories

A Cure for the Afflicted

... many were forced to survive under circumstances far more dire than his. Instead, he followed the merchant to Beatrice's room. The heavy drapes had been parted, and as Matteo glanced around, he could see the room's fine furnishings. Beatrice, a young woman of nineteen, lay on the bed with a sheet covering her from the waist down. Her long hair, the color of burnished copper, fanned out on the pillow in tousled strands. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly. Matteo could hear her deep, even breaths. He noticed that her cheeks were flushed and her brow was damp with sweat.

Beatrice's father lingered at the door. "She has gradually worsened these past several days, and I haven't been able to rouse her since yesterday evening."

Matteo drew closer to the bed. Beatrice didn't stir or show any awareness of his presence. Extending his cane, Matteo used it to draw the sheet back farther, revealing more of the simple shift the woman wore. His gaze swept over her body as he looked for boils on her skin. A soft sigh escaped him when he found none. "You say she took to her bed with a headache. Did she complain of bodily aches? Did she suffer from chills or vomiting before she fell into this... stupor?"

"No, Doctor. When my wife, God rest her soul, became ill with the plague a year ago, her sickness began with a headache, but she worsened far more quickly than my Beatrice."

Before Matteo could speak again, Beatrice released a throaty moan. He stared at her intently, ...

... waiting for her to wake, but she didn't open her eyes. Instead, her hips began rocking, their rhythmic motion unmistakable. Behind his mask, Matteo's eyes widened. When he turned to the merchant, the man averted his eyes. "This is not the plague," Matteo told him.

Beatrice's father reluctantly looked at Matteo again. "But she appears feverish, Doctor. Perhaps the illness is taking longer to manifest in my daughter?"

Matteo took a step back from the bed. Beatrice arched her spine, spreading her legs wider. "I'm sorry; there's nothing I can do for her. This affliction will have to run its course."

"Please!" The merchant's face grew stricken. "Please help her. She is a good and wholesome girl, and if word gets out about her... sickness, she will have no chance of finding a suitable husband."

Matteo was about to refuse, for patients on the verge of death waited for his visit to their homes. He had no time to waste trying to protect this wealthy woman's marriage prospects. But before he could utter a word, Beatrice released a whimper. Her hips still moved, yet she seemed powerless to stop her body's obscene display.

He had encountered this peculiar affliction only once before, when as a young man, he had accompanied an older, more experienced physician on his rounds through a remote village. Recalling the physician's method of administering a cure made Matteo grow warm beneath his overcoat. He turned to the merchant again. "I will examine your daughter more closely to ...