"Doctor Bates?" He looked up, pulling his pen back to avoid blotting the page in his journal.

'Yes Student Nurse Crawley?"

"I've got a package for you. It's express from Doctor Laing."

"Capital." John capped the pen and came around the desk, taking the package from Sybil and testing the weight before peeling back the wrapping to see a stack of pages. "Perfectly timed."

"Doctor?"

"Hm?" John did not look over his shoulder, stuffing the wrapping in the bin and thumbing through the pages to separate them out for the respective patients.

"You said you wanted to know when the Matron was being…"

John turned on his heel, leaving the pages on his desk. "Right now?"

"She's got Ms. Bancroft in an awful state sir."

John followed Sybil from the room, his coat billowing out behind him like her apron strings flapped off her skirt. They hurried through the corridors, dodging around patients and nurses, until they reached the women's short-term ward. As they entered John caught sight of Matron Sadler wielding a pair of scissors and bearing down on Anna's position.

Hurrying over he caught her arm and hauled her back. She stumbled and he only just caught them before they hit the ground. The scissors cut down and John reeled back, putting his fingers to his cheek where it split open with a sting.

"What the hell do you think you're-" Matron Sadler stopped, her eyes narrowing as John held himself to his full height, a hand pressing his handkerchief to the cut. "I trust you know how it works in my wards, Doctor."

"And I trust that these patients are to be treated with dignity and respect."

"They can't even shit on their own, most of them, and the others of them are crawling with bedbugs, lice, and God knows what else and you want me to treat them with dignity?" She cackled a laugh, brandishing the scissors at him. "It's not what you do when you're dealing with nutters and mad hatters like all of them."

"Then perhaps we need to reevaluate the staffing on this ward, Matron." John checked the blood on his handkerchief before adjusting it and pressing against his face again. "Because in this hospital, so long as I'm the psychiatrist in charge, we're going to treat the patients as they deserve."

"Deserve?" Matron Sadler scoffed, "The deserve to be locked in dark rooms."

"We're not in a Shakespearean drama or the sixteen hundreds. We're in the modern age, Matron, and if you don't like that then I'll accept your resignation on my desk first thing in the morning. Do I make myself clear?"

They stared one another down, the fire in the cold blue eyes glaring back at him settling to a smolder. "Crystal."

"Good. Now explain what you were doing with that pair of shears?"

"I was preparing to cut Ms. Bancroft's hair since there's been an outbreak of lice recently." Matron Sadler shot a look toward Edith in the corner. "The mourning mother over there is probably the culprit."

"Or yourself." Sybil finally spoke up, her fists bawled at her sides, shaking.

"Excuse me." Matron Sadler advanced on Sybil but John stepped in her way.

"I think Student Nurse Crawley deserves to be heard." He faced her, "What do you mean?"

"I've found lice in the general nurses' ward. If we're cutting the patients' hair to stop the spread then we'll have to cut ours too. Baths, shampoos, the whole mess of it." She shot her own glare at Matron Sadler. "If she's convinced it's not here then let me get a comb and look."

John checked the handkerchief again and then dropped it to his side. "Matron?"

"Fine." She shoved her scissors into the pocket of her apron. "If you're so convinced then we'll check everyone in the morning. But that means anyone found with it gets clipping."

"And anyone without can keep it." Sybil bent over Anna's head, pulling gently through the strands as everyone looked on. After a moment she stood and shook her head. "Ms. Bancroft's clean. It's what I'd expect given her bed and space are always neat and tidy. She'll not need to lose her hair today."

"Then you can finish the lice checks for this ward." Matron Sadler sneered at them and stalked off down the ward, slamming the door at the end hard enough to make a few of the women jump.

They immediately set to tittering amongst themselves when she left and John lowered his voice, stepping closer to Sybil and Anna. "I do hope I've not caused any trouble with her."

"What's done is done if you have." Sybil sighed, shivering a second before managing a bout of nervous laughter. "I've never stood up to her before. It felt… exhilarating."

"Let's not make it a habit. I'm not sure I could find another Matron for this place better than her and I'm not willing to chance it on those worse." John brushed at his face and then winced. "I'd better clean this up."

"Let me help?" Sybil offered but Jon shook his head.

"You've still got potential lice victims to check. Best not anger her further this evening." John went to the washrooms at the end of the ward, waving at the patients who called out to him on his way.

When he reached it, he turned a handle and pulled his hands back from the cold water out of the tap. He tested it but the water never warmed, the icy stream continuing to pummel his fingers in the moments he risked testing it. John jumped when a voice called out to him from the entry.

"The water is as warm as it'll get unless you want to boil it on a stove." Anna came over, taking the bloodied handkerchief from his hand and soaked it to wash out the blood. She wrung it out and then dabbed it on his face. "It doesn't seem to be deep. Just… superficial."

"Much experience with cuts?"

"I had a sister and we got ourselves into a few scrapes here and there." Anna wiped at his face, "I think it's mostly alright but I'm not a doctor."

"I'll get a nurse to look at it later." John took the handkerchief, washing out the remaining blood. "Thank you."

"Perhaps I should be thanking you." She smiled, "You saved my hair."

"It's rather beautiful hair." John immediately bit his tongue. "I'm sorry, that was… inappropriate."

"A compliment like that is never in poor taste, Doctor." Anna sighed, "And thank you again. There are few vestiges left of my dignity and I'd like to keep mine."

"I understand." John opened his mouth to speak again but stopped himself. "If Matron Sadler happens to…"

"I will let you know if she overreaches." Anna nodded at him and left the washroom.

John wrung out his handkerchief again and folded it in his fingers to walk back to his office. Hanging it over the bowl on the little washbasin in the corner of his office, John wiped his fingers on a towel and turned back to the pages on his desk. He shuffled through them and found the pages labeled for Anna.

Sorting them together, shuffling the dates in order, John took them to the sofa and began to read.

Ms. Anna May Bancroft does not fit the description of her recommendation at all. She sits primly on the sofa and in out first interview she only mentioned her rather violent retrieval. It seems the police, receiving the original of the message they so kindly typed for me, entered her house without sufficient warning and seized her rather abruptly. I am inclined to believe our police chief, in his determination to perform well at his duties, was rather aggressive in this.

Or else they're worried about "letting one like she is" out in society. At least that's what they told me when they brought her here. Something about it didn't sit right with me but I'm a servant of my duties.

As it is, I'm finding it hard to reconcile the Anna Bancroft the letter suggests she is with the woman before me. Her back is straight, she quotes from books and texts befitting her higher education and her liberal arts training, and engages in lively debate with a few of the staff. The Matron has already written her up twice for distracting her student nurses but knowing Vera Sadler it's simply an attempt to make life difficult for the student nurses or for Ms. Bancroft. I may be a man but I know what jealousy looks like.

John placed the page in the open file on his desk, making his own notes in a different pen beside Doctor Laing's writing. His cheek stung as he went to smile at the comment about jealousy and he winced, waiting for the moment of pain to pass before continuing. He noted the event from that day along the margins of the page and then again on his own pad beside him.

Picking up the next page, John continued reading.

In my professional opinion, Ms. Bancroft does not suffer from sexual delusions. Her repetition of a rather gruesome story inclines me to believe she might be prone to an exaggerated imagination or even a degree of hysteria but not the kind of base proclivities that has out police chief worried for the moral standing of our village. I believe she saw something and has placed herself in the role and identified the stranger she saw with the only man of means she knows.

According to her, Father Green assaulted her. When I press her about the details of the encounter she tends to shy away, hence my belief she's fabricated the story to cover a horrible memory. Perhaps another man accosted her or she saw someone in a similar position and her mind seeks to remedy it. After only three interviews she remains adamant that these events are not the imagined reality I suggest but what really happened.

I dare not press further now. I would hate for her to retreat in herself, as I fear she might. From her reactions in even our simplest interactions, she's disinclined to believe I'm on her side. I believe she has a severe mistrust of authority. Perhaps something to do with her discovery of the lie of her parentage?

John snorted, making a note about his own opinions on the matter and tucking the paper in order with the other. A sound echoed through his door and he paused, pen raised, but it did not repeat. He turned to the next page.

After another attempt to get Ms. Bancroft to give me the full details of what she experienced I'm left with only two options. The first is that she is mad and dreamed up something as depraved as this because she does suffer sexual delusions. The second, that she did suffer the hand of someone she trusted and knows there is nothing to be done about it. Either way, her story staggers me. No, chills me to the bone. Even writing it makes my hands shake.

What she finally told me, with the stillest expression I've ever yet beheld on her expressive face and devoid of any emotions I would've suspected given the tale she had to tell (angry, fear, sorrow, or even frustration), proceeded as follows.

There was a large party held at the Crawley house. Given her rift with the family (something she describes as more of a temporary separation given her personal confusion over her place in the world) she was reluctant to attend but social functions and her responsibilities to the country overruled her trepidation about the evening. She said that during a rather riotous band number she felt lightheaded in the heat and took to the balcony for some air. It was there she encountered Father Green.

In our meetings over the last few weeks I've come to surmise that she and Father Green were no more friendly than vicar and parishioner. Having never met Father Green, despite his visits here to counsel with some of his parishioners within our walls, I might be inclined to believe he is the one suffering delusions but as a man of the cloth I find it almost impossible to believe he would be so tempted and depraved as to attack a woman of standing. To attack any woman.

But that is what she claims. That while she sought air from the stuffy confines of the party, Father Green pressed her with physical advances of a romantic nature. She did not take the romance or the suggestion of such as enticing and, by her words, tried to repel him. Unfortunately he continued and given the rain earlier in the evening she slipped. I saw the small scar, the remains of the injury to the left side of her head, and she claims it only dazed her when I tried to suggest her imagination filled in the gaps of the evening as fueled by her fears and pain.

Her lucidity, especially in our sessions, is not to be doubted and I'm inclined to agree that what she endured she remembers better than she wishes. I wanted to confer with our nurses but she refused inspection. I guess the examination might prove too difficult for her mind to withstand given the trauma already endured.

She went into no specifics so I can only guess that the violence of that act harmed her greatly. Physically as well as emotionally and mentally. Her hands shook when she told me the few details she spared and I marveled that it was her only outward sign of duress while her composure was so pristinely maintained. If not for her breeding I might suspect she was an actress of a higher caliber than I've ever seen.

And such impeccable breeding continued for she did not cry or storm or rage. Instead, once the attack finished, she pulled herself to a corner before slipping away from the party. She merely returned to her home and her life as best she could. For obvious reasons she did not continue to attend church and only two weeks later found herself the State's ward here in our hospital.

For as much as I thought, at first, she might be lying, I'm now convinced it was too real a telling to be anything but reality. Whether it was her reality I've ever to fully decide. Her separation from the act rings too much like a witnessed event but I know something horrible has taken place. Perhaps, in our next meeting, I might persuade her to tell me who really endured this.

John sighed, noting the last page was only a scribble about failing to convince Anna of anything when she adamantly maintained her suffering over another's. He flipped through the rest of the notes but only found fragments, much like his own, from the sessions alter recorded into the more concise notes complied before him.

With a rub at his eyes, blinking at the spots there, John chewed the inside of his cheek. "How could you not believe her?"

John followed Anna into the house, hanging his jacket on the hook he claimed as his own. "I just want you to realize it was your idea."

"Not like you complained." Anna teased, tugging on his tie to get him close enough to plant a kiss on his lips before dancing away. "And nothing happened."

"She saw us."

"If she had she would've had to report it." Anna dangled her shoes as she used the banister to support her lean back off the stairs. "But she let us off with a warning."

"Lucky us."

"I don't know. The idea of you and I sharing a cell might've been fun."

"I don't know if you could appreciate my dexterity in a cell." John responded, swatting her ass as he followed her up the stairs. "Especially given they would've put us in different cells."

"Take the fun out it why don't you?" Anna dodged him, dropping her shoes near her wardrobe. "Although… It does give me a thought."

"What?" John unlaced his shoes, leaving his damp tie to hang from the back of the chair.

"Well," Anna went to her chest of drawers, drawing out material that reflected the light from the ceiling fixture. "I've got these scarves."

"I can see that." John removed his socks, hanging them to dry as well before tipping his shoes up to try and drain the water making the material squeak. "What about them?"

"Since we can't have a cell, I figure we can make some restraints of our own."

John coughed, catching himself before his previously precarious balancing act dropped him on his face. "We can what?"

"Don't tell me you've never done a power play before."

"Can't say it was in my repertoire." John shook his head, "Not a bondage fan."

"It's delayed gratification ad I promise to leave the leather whip out of it."

"You're what now?"

"I'm kidding." Anna draped one of the scarves over his neck, holding on the ends to draw him toward the bed with it. "These won't hurt and if you want, when we're done, I'll kiss it all better for you."

John flexed his jaw and then sighed. "I'm just… I don't know what to do."

"That's the easy part." Anna kissed the tip of his nose. "You've just got to be naked and allow me to get you all worked up until I make sure we're both satisfied."

"With rules like that how can I say no?" John went to kiss her but Anna flicked the scarf from his neck and wrapped it over his wrist. "Now you're not playing fair."

"Fair enough." She grinned at him. "This is a bit of a dominance game so I hope you don't mind allowing me to tell you what to do."

"It all seems to my benefit, doesn't it?" John relaxed his arm and she took the scarf from his wrist. "Now what?"

"Now," Anna put a finger over his lips. "You stay very, very quiet."

Her fingers opened the buttons on his shirt, the damp patches sticking to his skin but she kissed at those until John's chest tightened. Anna pulled first one wrist and then the other into her hands so she could undo his cuffs and slipped it from him as if he were no more than her rag doll. John let his whole body sag a bit when her fingers trilled over him to stop himself trying to catch her as she danced around him like a flirting nymph.

His trousers posed her no problems when she tipped him back onto the bed and yanked from his ankles to leave them bunched in her hands. And his boxers were no more difficult than that as she shucked them off him so he lay on her bed, naked as the day he was born. She leaned over him, supporting herself on her hands by his head, and kissed him softly.

John responded after a moment, caught a bit off guard by her approach, but when he tried to follow her lead she pulled away. He made a sound in the back of his throat but Anna just laughed. With a wag of her finger she pulled back and pointed to the wall.

Shifting into place, and rumpling the duvet a bit in his efforts, John found a spot and shrugged. He grinned, noting the lack of bedposts or other places she could tie the ends of her tempting scarves. But his grin faded a bit as Anna's stretched wider, pulling the scarves from the drawer and crawling onto the bed.

"It'd be a mistake to underestimate me." She whispered, wrapping one scarf around his wrist and then around the other as she positioned his arms with a bit of slack behind his back. "This isn't my first time."

He hissed through his teeth, the twitch of his hips moving his rousing member against her. Anna only smiled at it, intentionally brushing closer to him as she pulled the other scarf between her hands. The silky material teased over his face and she wrapped it twice around his eyes before tightening it at the back of his head.

"You didn't need to speak, just nod yes or no." John turned his head toward the sound, the filtered light and the pattern on the scarf shadowing everything into fuzzy outlines. "Is the tie at your wrists too tight?"

John shook his head.

"Can you still move your arms?"

He shrugged his shoulders and Anna laughed.

"Can you move them enough to make sure blood's getting where it needs to go? I don't want to cut off any circulation."

John tested the movement of his arms and nodded.

"Now answer this one truthfully." Anna shifted on him and John jumped when her breath caressed the exposed part of his ear. "Are you aroused yet?"

John dug his heels into the mattress to buck his hips toward her. Anna only laughed and teethed his earlobe before trailing kisses along his jaw to his mouth. Her lips settled on his and John followed her.

His eyes strained against the blindfold and all John could make out when he risked a look down past his nose was the fabric of Anna's dress. But the fabric that barely contained what he knew were her otherwise exposed breasts. Instinct had him reaching for her but the tie on his wrist caught the middle of his back.

The silk stretched a bit and with effort John could free himself but the impact reminded him of the purpose. Anna's lips left his in an instant and the only sound was their breathing. With the wait John tried to tilt his neck to get a better view but soon all he could make out was the fabric of her dress.

Settling back, Anna's weight shifting on him again, John waited for her lips to return. But she moved her lips down his chest. Each lick of her tongue gave John a shiver in his muscles until they almost convulsed on their own while waiting in the unbearable agony of her teasing.

The material of her dress ran over his skin and sent all the hair on his body standing on end. It rasped and glided, running over his legs and his erection in smooth motions and then a rush as Anna's weight left him. He tried to move on the bed, wrists tugging at the binding keeping them together, but her hand on his shoulder kept him in place.

Her lips met his a moment later and somewhere above the pounding of blood in his ears he thought he heard her dress hit the floor. Her weight settled on him again but moved to rest somewhere near his ankles. As John leaned forward to try and find her, Anna's mouth settled over his erection and she swirled her tongue over his head.

No orders or desires to increase the suspense could keep John silent. He groaned, head bumping the wall behind him, and rolled his hips. Unable to see, John lost himself to the suction and heat of her mouth while her fingers massaged the quivering muscles of his thighs between fondling caresses of his sack.

Rutting his hips toward her, John tried to relieve some of the tension- any of the tension- in his body but Anna gave no quarter. She stroked and squeezed and slid over him until John croaked out what he hoped was a coherent word. At that she paused and John thought she might exercise mercy.

Instead Anna untied his wrists but only so she could bring them in front of his chest. She redid the ties, kissing his hands when his fingers trailed over her skin and hair as they fell within his grasp. Her nonverbal urging put him on his back and Anna's hands moved over his head to leave him flat enough on her bed his feet hung off the edge.

John had no time to comprehend her plan before something impacted his shoulder. The shadows above him darkened and John heard Anna's voice whispering to him. "If you want, you can use your tongue now. If not… That's up to you."

Without any additional invitation, John licked and recognized the taste. He followed it, trying to move his hands to help him but all he could feel was Anna's weight settling over him. And then her mouth.

It took no time at all for John to lose whatever self-control he thought he accumulated over the years of his life. His mouth worked to give back all the pleasure he received but he came before Anna did. Even with her slight weight settle on his chest, John struggled to breathe through the riot of colors floating past his eyes and the short-circuiting synapses in his brain. But his primal side continued mechanical motion until Anna's climax hit his tongue.

He was certain there was no energy left in his body as Anna's weight left him for a third time. But his ears perked up at the rip of a package and then his hands twitched when she released them from the scarf. Another second and John blinked in the dim light, trying to focus his vision.

Anna smiled at him, taking advantage of his distraction, and turned her back to him as she set to work again. Only her hands worked this time, rolling the condom on as slowly as she possibly could, and forcing John's almost lifeless hands to try and work as smoothly as she did. But it took until she positioned herself up on her knees before John could even respond.

His hands held her ass as she sank down and settled until he bottomed out inside her. John struggled to breathe and Anna's nails dug into his legs. He sat up, crunching his fists in the duvet to get himself vertical, and shuffled them to the edge of the bed.

When his feet hit the ground he finally found the leverage and control he craved. Each thrust rocked them together and Anna met each one with movements of her own. John's lips took advantage of the opportunity to use his sight and laid trails over her exposed skin. Her shoulders and neck soon glinted with perspiration and he chased each bead before it could make a trail down her back.

She gasped and reached a hand behind her to hold his neck, keeping him close to her neck until she managed to maneuver her mouth close enough to his. They swallowed one another's moans and John rutted harder against her. The scorching clutch of her walls around him drove him to the edge of sanity but he worked his fingers to her tragically neglected clit.

A few swift rubs and she let kiss end with her finish. John continued lathering her in attention and adoration, stroking inside and out until she fell into another orgasm that timed with his. Their bodies shuddered and convulsed until John collapsed back onto her bed.

Anna pushed herself off first, careful of their mutual sensitivity, and then John found the strength to dispose of the condom. He caught a look at himself in the mirror and turned back to Anna. "Where's… Where's…"

"I'm good enough to get it all." Anna winked at him, not moving from where she flopped on her bed. "Although I think I just lost a stone."

"Best workout I've had in an age." John agreed, crawling next to her on the bed and settling. "I'm curious where you learned this little game."

"Gwen was telling me she heard one of the murses talking about it once."

John frowned, "What's a 'murse'?"

"Male nurse." Anna shrugged, "Apparently he was a bit of the adventurous type and dated this stripper… Long and the short of it, he heard about it, told someone else, Gwen heard it and told me and then I had the chance to try it on you."

"Did your last boyfriend get any chances at it?"

Anna winced. "Sort of… He wasn't into being submissive."

"I didn't mind."

"I noticed." Anna kissed his shoulder, the closest part of him within reach. "Maybe next time we switch it up?"

"Not sure I could take the idea of you trembling under me."

"Don't give me ideas," Anna closed her eyes, "I'm too exhausted."

"Then we'll sleep and think about how to turn the tables tomorrow." John grinned and they both lay back until only their easy breathing sounded in the room.