François, the youngest son of the Viscount of X, was waiting in his room. He tried to compose himself by reading a book, but he was so nervous that he couldn't concentrate. Jeanne was due to arrive soon to “give him his medicine”, as she had done almost every week since he was a child. His mother, the Viscountess, had once given the instructions, as she did for herself and the other children; only the day varied. François, at 18, could of course have refused to continue ‘taking his medicine’; but the force of habit and his unwillingness to face his mother's reproaches if he turned away from his medicinal options had made him continue to accept these embarrassing sessions. And then there was last week…

There was a knock at the door. It was Jeanne, carrying, as usual, a shoulder bag and two pots held by a handle. Jeanne greeted him and offered him his medicine. As usual, she asked if he had recently ‘gone to the toilet’. François replied that he had been that morning. As he expected (it was always the same ritual, unless he said he had been very recently; and even then, when he was a child, she would go and check…), Jeanne suggested he take a purgative first (as a child, it was more than a suggestion…).

François prepared himself: turning his back to Jeanne out of modesty, he removed his breeches and then sat down on his side, his bare buttocks stretched out, on the linen towel that Jeanne had taken out of her bag and laid on the bed. Then Jeanne took out the enema, a menacing tin cylinder with a piston fitted with a handle and, at the other end, a nozzle whose purpose was obvious, and a small pot of grease. She drew water with the syringe, then greased the nozzle. Spreading François's buttocks, she directed the tip of the nozzle towards his anus. ‘Push, Mr. François, please.’ François was used to this request; his sphincter opened and the well-lubricated nozzle entered without difficulty. Jeanne administered the water.

The ritual of purging had not changed in years: Jeanne emptied his bowels before filling them with medicine, ensuring that there was room for it to be properly absorbed. The purge was sometimes unpleasant, but it had to be done. And, of course, it was not dignified… even now Jeanne let him go to the chair alone, but when he was a child he used to empty himself in front of her!

"Would you like another dose, sir, or do you feel you need to go now?

— Give me another dose. "

Jeanne gave François another syringeful of water. He then got up and headed for the bathroom to use the commode. Jeanne listened to the noisy expulsion, then asked if Monsieur needed anything (as a child, she used to wipe him…). He replied that he did not and returned, one hand covering his genitals, then resumed his position to take his ‘medicine’, a beneficial and fragrant herbal infusion — beneficial at least in his mother's mind. Jeanne prepared the syringe and administered the herbal tea.

"Does Monsieur need a little help to pass the time?

"Jeanne?! What do you mean?

‘Monsieur, you know as well as I do what you were doing last week when you thought I was away…’

Following a habit François had developed as a child, Jeanne would stay behind after administering the “medicine” while it took effect in his intestines. It was a moment of affection. As a child, François would tell Jeanne what was troubling him, and Jeanne would respond. They had kept up the habit into adulthood. It was a moment when François could, to a certain extent, confide in her… But last week, Jeanne had had to slip away: she remembered that she had forgotten to take care of a request from the Viscountess… Distraught, she had not closed the door properly and, on her way back, had seen through the crack that François was ‘touching himself’. Fortunately, she had come to her senses in time and moved away from the crack before knocking.

"Don't you think it would be more pleasant if I did it for you? "

Jeanne reached over François's hip and carefully took hold of the young man's penis, watching for any sign of refusal. She then began to play with the skin and the organ. Her other hand rested on his buttocks, which she began to caress. Under this double stimulation, the organ quickly took on a promising rigidity. Jeanne's finger slipped between his buttocks. Still speaking in a low voice, Jeanne continued:

‘Mr François, do you like it when I give you your medicine this way?’

François did not answer, but continued to let her do it. What could he say? Yes, he liked and dreaded receiving the medicine. It was a moment of attention and shame. He liked feeling Jeanne's fingers spread his buttocks apart. He liked feeling her behind him while she held it in…

"And when I purge you? Oh, I think purging is less pleasant, but it has to be done to get rid of the bren before the medicine… "

Her finger moved away from the still greasy orifice she had violated with the syringe, and she resumed caressing the young man's buttocks while playing with his penis with her other hand. She did not masturbate him outright, preferring to lift his hardened penis, let it fall back, run her finger over the skin… Jeanne did not want François to ejaculate at that moment, his stomach still full of herbal tea. Jeanne had, as usual, set an hourglass to measure the retention time, and when it had elapsed, she invited François to go to the chair.

"Sir, call me if you want me to help you wash. "

After some noises of expulsion, François called her. Jeanne prepared the bidet. François had known since childhood how to use this piece of furniture: the viscountess's instruction was to keep his arse and cock clean… He had been doing this on his own for years, but Jeanne was clearly inclined to resume a practice she had long since abandoned. He sat down on the toilet and Jeanne, as if he were a five-year-old, washed his penis (pulling the skin back), his testicles and his perineum.

‘There you go. If you'd like me to dry you off…’ "

When François, whose penis had regained its vigour, was dried, Jeanne made him an offer:

‘Would you like me to continue what I started?’

François nodded timidly. Jeanne laid him on his back on her towel. She ran her hand under his buttocks and fondled him. His penis began to harden. She thought to herself that he definitely liked having his bum caressed… certainly more than when she had spanked or whipped him on the viscountess's orders, which was quite some time ago now.

She took his penis, pulled back the foreskin and began to suck his glans. Then she started fondling him again.

‘Do you like that, Mr François?’

‘Yes…’

Jeanne alternated between sucking and fondling for a while longer, then her hand quickened and the young man ejaculated onto her fingers. She wiped him clean.

‘Would you like some more next week, Mr François?’ she said as she tidied up. ‘Yes, Jeanne…’ Jeanne left with her equipment. When she returned a little later to exchange the chamber pot for an empty bucket, she exchanged a knowing glance with François.

François felt as if he were in a dream. He never would have expected this. He had never been able to get too close to girls, whether they were from the nobility or the common people: he was shy, and besides, his mother would not have looked kindly on relationships that would have brought dishonour to a young woman of quality; as for impregnating a servant, she had seen too much damage from that in her family. Prostitutes? His mother had taken care to make him read horrible descriptions of the diseases one could catch from them. Thus, girls were still terra incognita to him. He looked at them, loved their smiles, their voices, the curve of their breasts or buttocks under their clothes, but knew no more than the boasts of some of his friends. What's more, he had never thought about mature women, let alone Jeanne, whom he had known since childhood and who had been a widow for several years.

The following week, François found it even harder to concentrate on his book. Day after day, he felt embarrassed when he ran into Jeanne, who nevertheless showed him every sign of respect due to his social status and made no reference to what had happened between them. He touched himself as he thought back on the scene. But now, now, the moment of “medicine” was coming…

Jeanne arrived as usual and made no mention of what had happened when she gave him the purge. However, after administering the herbal tea, she ran her hand over his buttocks. After caressing his rump thoroughly, she moved her hand to the front and, as she had done the previous week, played lightly with his penis, without causing him to ejaculate too prematurely. She even ran her hand under his testicles, as if to test them.

As she had done the week before, she washed him after he had expelled the purgative. This time, she did not ask if he was willing to continue: his erect penis as he got up from the bidet betrayed his feelings. She led him to the bed, caressing his buttocks, and asked him if he would lie on his back, but with his knees apart and raised.

François was a little surprised, but, having received nothing but pleasant caresses from Jeanne for the past week (not to mention the spankings of yesteryear), he assumed the required position. Jeanne gently caressed his testicles, then his penis, and sucked his glans a little. Then he was surprised to see her reach for the jar of grease she had used for the nozzle. His eyes widened when he saw her smear it on her finger — he had a pretty good idea where she was going to put it. So he wasn't surprised to feel the tip of her finger on his orifice and hear her invitation to ‘push’. The greased finger entered without difficulty… François was used to being penetrated, even if the finger was thicker and rougher than the nozzle. Jeanne watched his face, in case he showed any discomfort.

"Are you feeling alright, sir?

"Yes, Jeanne. "

Her finger angled and pushed somewhere in his stomach, giving him a sensation halfway between pleasure and the urge to urinate…

"Are you feeling alright, sir?

"Yes. "

Jeanne resumed masturbating him, adding suction and small movements of her finger in the young man's bottom, who soon came, this time on Jeanne's lips. Without missing a beat, she cleaned him up, including wiping the grease from between his buttocks, then, as usual, cleared away her equipment and the chamber pot.

François was still amazed that he had allowed himself to do such a thing. Although he had heard other young people talk about oral sex, he had never heard of the shameful intrusion he had undergone. The mixture of shame, pleasure and pride he felt deeply troubled him.

As for Jeanne, she had a little smile on her face as she left. She had noticed signs of the young man's arousal for some time when she came to give him his medicine. She was familiar with the reactions of her late husband, whom she also treated. It was on him that she had perfected her art of masturbation, sucking, and fingering the anus — all activities that were unlikely to get her pregnant. She wondered if she should initiate François into the art of fingering and licking as well… it would be useful to him when he got married! On the other hand, as she was still of childbearing age, he would not be entitled to the ultimate conjugal act, coitus… or perhaps during her menstruation?