Her father hadn’t told her where he was taking her, although that wasn’t unusual. She knew she wasn’t to ask questions - he saw them as disrespectful, and she never got answers anyway.

The London sky was overcast, the air muggy and close as they were driven through the streets of Kensington and down a narrow street near the Natural History Museum. Her father had taken her there last summer, to see the preserved animals. It had been ghoulish.

The carriage stopped outside a high townhouse with a gleaming black door and a polished brass plaque. Jumping down onto the pavement, her father helped her step down. He took her elbow in his form grip and led her up the stairs to the imposing door.

It was opened before he even had to knock.

‘Mr Elliot. And Miss Elliot,’ the woman said, ‘Good morning.’ She stepped back and opened the door widely for them to enter.

‘Elizabeth,’ her father said, gesturing for her to enter first.

She stepped into the hallway, which was lit warmly against the grey of the day. It smelled of beeswax and roses.

The woman closed the door behind them with a heavy clunk.

‘Miss Elliot I am Miss Juniver. I assist Dr Ruhland with his work.’

She nodded at Miss Juniver. The slender woman was angular, in face and in manner; with a mean turn to her mouth that I instantly dislike.

‘Follow me, Miss Elliot. I will prepare you while your father and Dr Ruhland discuss your treatment.’

Elizabeth didn’t move. ‘What am I to be treated for? I am not aware that I am ill.’

Miss Juniver smiles. ‘No, we find that is often the case with your particular form of malady. Follow me please.’

Feeling a little weak in the knees with anxiety, Elizabeth complies.

She is led down some stairs and through an office paneled in dark wood into a tall room illuminated by a skylight high above. In the centre of the room is a large table, metal and dark wood padded in black leather. It looks like some medieval torture chamber… Elizabeth tries to back up, not tearing her eyes away from that table.

Miss Juniver, with sharp reflexes, reaches out and grasps her wrists. ‘Be a good girl now Elizabeth.’

Elizabeth’s heart is thundering in her chest as Miss Juniver pulls her further into the room, stumbling. The door closes behind them.

‘Now. Would you refer to undress yourself, or shall I?’ Miss Juniver says.

Elizabeth is speechless. What could she possibly say in response?

‘The doctor requires full access to your body to administer the treatment,’ she says. ‘I will take further hesitation as indication that I should proceed to disrobe you.

Elizabeth still gaped… and without another word, Miss Juniver started to undo her dress pushing it off her shoulders and then unfastening her corset and almost before she is aware of it, all her clothes are in a puddle around her ankles and she’s being made to step closer to the table…

‘Lie on the table please,’ Miss Juniver is saying. Her voice is growing harsher, stricter, with every word.

Elizabeth begins to think that it might be easier to just comply, to get this done, to have it over.

She does as she is told.

Barely exclaims in shock as her wrists are bound by her side, as her legs are spread apart and restrained at the knees and at the ankles.

‘Lovely,’ she says, when Elizabeth is wholly immobile. Goosebumps have risen all over her skin, and she is shivering in fear. ‘The doctor will be with you shortly.’

Elizabeth lifts her head to watch Miss Juniver leave the room, picking up her clothes from the floor on the way.

She’s left there, in the sharp light, the air feeling colder with every moment.

She has no idea how long she is left there. Minutes? An hour?

She jumps with surprise when the door opens with an ominous groan.

Dr Ruhland comes to stand over her. And Miss Juniver on the other side.

‘Very good, Elizabeth,’ he says. He doesn’t even acknowledge her nudity, her restraint. She glares up at him.

‘Your father and I have had a long discussion about your problems, and have concluded that you suffer from acute hysteria, which was in fact my clinical suspicion initially. Not to worry, it’s very treatable.’

‘I really don’t think I’m ill, doctor,’ she says, trying so hard to keep her tone polite, respectful.

‘That is often part of the illness,’ he says, glancing over at Miss Juniver.

‘I - ‘ Elizabeth starts to say, just as Miss Juniver forces a rubber gag between her teeth.

‘Treatment is generally more effective if undertaken with silence from the patient,’ Dr Ruhland says. ‘I’m afraid I’m quite insistent on it.’

Dr Ruhland and Miss Juniver both step back from the table.

Miss Juniver retrieves something that sounds heavy from underneath the table, as Dr Ruhland moves down to her feet. She hears the sound of wood on wood and lifts her head to see the doctor removing a part of the table from between her legs. Hinges she hadn’t noticed bend her knees.

She can barely breathe as she realises that the doctor is standing between her spread knees, is able to see her most private place.

She shakes her head frantically. She is ignored. She tried to pull against the restraints. She is ignored.

Miss Juniver hands something heavy and black to the doctor. Then his hands are on her, opening her lips, pressing the instrument onto her. She tries to pull her hips away from the cold rubber. Can’t.

Then suddenly there’s an insistent vibration from the instrument, more and more as it’s pressed onto her. She doesn’t like it doesn’t want it it has to stop she doesn’t want this no

But there’s some sensation… some warmth, some sweet sensation there that…

The doctor makes a tiny adjustment and there’s more of it, more and she wants more. But she doesn’t want this, wants them to stop… she wants to feel more of that heat building up between her legs.

But its building and climbing and she can’t think of anything else about feeling like this, feeling more like this, always feeling like this. It’s inexorable…

She can’t stop it when it comes, a blinding explosion inside her that she can’t see or hear only feel.

It feels like it lasts forever.

Spasms, aftershocks make her whole body jerk as she comes back to herself. The doctor has removed the instrument from between her legs. Miss Juniver is removing the gag…

‘Very good Elizabeth,’ Dr Ruhland says, coming to stand over her behind her head. ‘I’m sure you’ll feel much better now.’

She can’t breathe, nevermind think of a way to respond.

‘Miss Juniver will get you up and dressed, and return you to your father forthwith. And I shall see you again tomorrow.’

She goes pale, feels like her heart stops. She has to go through this again?

The doctor is already stepping away, and Miss Juniver is undoing the restraints and sitting her up. She feels lightheaded as her underthings are replaced, as she is made to step back into her dress… it all feels so far away.

Walking back through that office, the corridor… none of it seems real.

And her father… standing like nothing has happened in his suit, though surely he must know what the doctor had done. He must.

Miss Juniver opens the door for them, like they had had a pleasant visit, and they step out into the street. Like nothing had changed.