Chapter Text
After the fire, Verso's death, and their prolonged stint in his canvas, the Dessendre family doctor makes their prognosis clear.
"A steep descent into depression, the forgetting of all emotions involving light and laughter, shortly followed by deliberate death." His beady brown eyes examine all four of them from behind the circular lenses of his spectacles, where they are gathered in the drawing room.
"And is there a treatment to go with this dismal diagnosis?" Papa asks, grumbling. He and Maman sit on opposite sides of the room to each other, with their daughter's in the middle. "Or are we to be doomed for eternity?"
"Nothing quite so dramatic, no." The doctor says. "In times when the mind is ill, it often helps to stimulate positive feelings in the senses of the body. That helps to balance the darkness. The standard prescription is one orgasm a day for patients suffering from depression."
Clea lets out a shrill laugh, then poorly attempts to disguise it with a coughing fit. Alicia's face turns bright red like the locks of her hair, her blush visible even under the stretched skin and burn scars.
Maman rolls her eyes skyward. "Forgive me, monsieur, if I lack enthusiasm. It is so hard to motivate, you see, with my son being dead."
"Quite understandable, madame." The doctor continues. "Yours is a most extreme case, and that is why my official prescription is three orgasms a day for you and each member of your family."
Maman freezes with her left eye twitching. Clea scoffs again, this time making no effort to hide it, and storms out of the room.
Papa glances at his wife and notably fails to disguise the slow grin that builds on his lips. He looks as if he has just won the lottery.
~*~
It is a slow start, as with most things in their family. The doctor leaves them with his prescription and each member of the Dessendre clan departs to their various rooms to think things over.
Since her body was mangled in the fire, Alicia has been unable to excite herself in any way, especially in the way that makes her breathing shallow and her skin flush from attention. It's almost impossible to look at herself in the mirror and think of anything worth touching, not now that her beautiful face is no more.
Still, she gives it a try. Through many lonely teenage nights she has learned the many sensitive places and reactions she can draw from her own body. The fire may have damaged her, but after a good hour spent clumsily shoving her fingers between her legs in her ensuite she manages to achieve the desired result.
Her orgasm ripples through her like an old friend and blows away all of the dust and cobwebs. Heat spreads from her ears down to her toes and the ensuing pleasure is breathtaking to say the least. Then there are the aftershocks that follow, which leave her gasping raspily, and are almost harder to deal with than the orgasm itself.
How on earth is she supposed to manage three of these every day? Just thinking about it makes the youngest Dessendre exhausted.
In the weeks that follow from the doctor's visit, the manor turns from a silent place of mourning to being silent for an entirely different reason - and sometimes not being 'silent' at all, but more quiet, as the various family members struggle to stifle their shouts and moans.
Papa looks delighted every morning at breakfast, though lethargic. Maman starts to join them. She refuses to meet her husbands eyes across the dining table, and her cheeks turn bright red whenever she feels him watching her.
Clea is notably absent from all of their meals and frequently absent from the manor itself.
Alicia finds herself watching for her sister's comings and goings, and in the middle of the night will startle at the sound of the front door being opened only to settle upon hearing Clea's bare footfalls. She can't help but notice that those are the only sounds she ever hears from her big sister, along with the occasional snide comment or scoff.
Clea isn't taking her medicine. She refuses to follow the doctor's orders and their parents are too awkward to broach the subject with her.
So Alicia tries to do it herself one sunny afternoon.
"Where did you go?" The redhead asks her sister as she returns home yet again from places unknown.
Clea strides past her without so much as a glance, clad in her classic blue skirt and white blouse. She does roll her eyes however, the only indication that she saw Alicia standing in the corner of the entryway. "I was with a friend."
"Really?" Alicia's eyes light up and she relaxes slightly, but follows her sister up the stairs and into her bedchamber for good measure. "That's great! So you're doing what the doctor said?"
"Don't be crude." Clea snaps, and Alicia deflates upon the immediate realization that, no, her sister has not been following their doctor's orders. "That man is a quack and a pervert. I don't know why the rest of you listen to him."
"Maybe we want to get better." The younger sister shrugs, folding her arms and leaning back against Clea's bedroom door until it closes. Her sibling whips a white sheet off of her old desk and starts searching for paint brushes. "Maybe we're tired of being sad all the time."
"So you'd rather fuck yourself all day?"
Alicia sighs. Clea only swears when she is upset. "No." And then she considers. "Maybe I'd like fucking someone else."
"You're disgusting." Clea finds the brushes that she is looking for, but when she whirls around and tries to storm out of the room Alicia stands firmly in her way. "Move." Her sister demands.
She will not. "Why aren't you taking care of yourself?"
"I have bigger things to worry about."
"You shouldn't ignore your health."
"I'm not ignoring it," Clea protests and tries to sidestep Alicia, but the younger sister blocks her at every turn, and finally she throws her hands up with a sigh. "I'm trying to keep us safe! The Writers are still out there and they might come back for us. Killing Verso was their first step."
"We're safer together." The youngest Dessendre parries. "Papa will protect us."
"Renoir? Hardly. I think he's a little preoccupied with Aline." And then, having used their parent's names with scorn to show the true extent of her frustration, Clea grabs Alicia by the shoulders and physically moves her out of the way. She is weaker than she used to be. "Move, Alicia. Go back to fooling around in your bedroom."
Then the elder sister sweeps out of her chamber and departs.
~*~
More weeks go by. Clea gets thinner and weaker - she has been skipping meals and barely sleeping as she focuses single mindedly on her crusade against the Writers. The rest of her family can do nothing but watch with concern.
Alicia, on the other hand, is filling out again. She eats heartily at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and begins to practice her fencing again. With some added protein, she even starts to show some slight muscles.
The doctor was right. Orgasms do make her feel better. She can't even focus on her guilt over what happened to Verso when lost in the haze.
Papa looks better too. He trims his beard for the first time in months and starts taking meals up to Maman in their bedroom when his wife is too exhausted to come downstairs. Alicia confesses her worry to him one day that her mother is not improving.
"She's getting better." Papa assures her, holding a tray of food in his hands and glancing away awkwardly. "She just, ah, is having trouble walking."
"Did she hurt herself?" Alicia panics.
"No, no." Papa clears his throat embarrassedly. "It's just, uh, the medicine."
"Oh..."
The orgasms make her legs feel funny too, but Alicia always makes sure to space them out so that she can stand up properly after a break of fifteen minutes. Is Maman taking them all at once?
Maybe the doctor upped the number in her prescription. Alicia's mother was hit the hardest by her son's death, after all, and spent the longest time lost within his canvas. It makes sense that all those negative motions would need more peaks to work through.
~*~
The doctor himself comes calling six weeks after his initial intervention to check up on how his patients are doing. He is delighted to see Alicia looking so healthy, and compliments Papa on his 'renewed vigor'. Then he has a look over Maman in her room.
Clea is not present at all for this visit, and that concerns not just the physician but the youngest Dessendre as well. Out of sisterly concern, she approaches the man and asks what she can do to help the situation.
"Some women get quite embarrassed by this sort of thing." The doctor says to her, kindly. "It may be because they are offended by the topic or struggle to reach completion. In either case, it is always helpful to have a second person that they trust in the room."
"Like a boyfriend?" Alicia suggests, only to remember. "But Clea doesn't have one."
"A friend or family member can help out at times, if they feel the patient's life is at risk." He riffles through his bag of medical equipment, and pulls out a variety of strange things. "Have her try this. It's a phallus that needs to be inserted - and then there is a belt it can be clipped to if a second person needs to assist. Make sure that she is lubricated first, though, or it will be painful and unpleasant to experience."
"How do I do that?"
"I have a book of techniques here, that doctors use to soothe their patients."
Alicia pours over the pages last at night. She reads all about the specific finger movements and the various spots inside of a woman that can be massaged to bring her to orgasm. Spots she has found inside of herself but did not know were universal - and it turns out that some of them are not, being found in a variety of different places.
When she reads about how a person can use their tongue to stimulate the clitoris and vagina, her jaw drops open. Her mouth may water slightly, but it is only out of sheer curiosity and the flashing of images in her head as she imagines what it might be like to experience this.
Then there are pages upon pages on using the straps - on how fast a person should thrust in with their hips and the specific angles. Alicia has been an avid reader throughout most of her life, and yet there is so much knowledge in this book that she had no idea about.
Clea must not know about it either, and that is why her poor sister is struggling.
Alicia will speak to her the next time she sees her.
~*~
Clea is gone for two whole days and returns home in the early hours of the morning. By this time, her sister has managed to become frantic with worry and their parents, despite being bedbound, suffer from similar anxiety.
So when Alicia wakes up to the sound of those bare footsteps and the opening of Clea's bedroom door, she immediately throws back the covers and rushes out of her chambers, sprinting down the hall and barging into her sister's room.
"Where the hell have you been?" Alicia closes the door behind her but does not bother to keep her voice down.
Maman and Papa are all the way on the other side of the manor and won't hear her.
"Get out, Alicia." Clea grumbles, with dark circles under her eyes and wearing the same clothes that she first left the manor in. It's like she hasn't slept at all.
"No. Where have you been?"
"Chasing the Writers, obviously." Clea shoots a dark glare at her sister over her shoulder, as her brown fringe is lit up auburn by the faint light of dawn. "Your friends killed our brother, or did you forget?"
Alicia does not take the bait. She crosses her arms and steps forward. "I didn't realise you were so eager to follow Verso into the grave."
"Oh that's hilarious." Clea sneers. She busies herself about her room, unbuttoning her blouse and letting it flutter to the floor while searching for a clean one.
It's almost impossible to find anything in Clea's room. The eldest child moved out of her parent's manor years ago, and only returned after the devastation of the fire. Hence the white sheets over everything but the bed (which she hasn't been sleeping in).
"You're projecting, sister. You and Aline were the ones determined to kill yourselves inside his canvas."
"At least we came to our senses," says Alicia, who cannot help but trail her eyes along the exposed skin of Clea's slender body. She is too thin. Her ribs are showing. "You seem determined to do the opposite."
"Who is the older sibling here?" Clea finally manages to dig out a fresh blouse from her suitcase and pull it on. Then she rounds on Alicia, eyes flashing with anger. "You do not get to lecture me about anything. Your actions cost Verso his life. I don't want your cursed fingers touching my own."
The youngest Dessendre flinches but recovers quickly. Her older sister knows exactly how to hit her where it hurts.
"You -! You're supposed to have three orgasms a day and I know that you're not." Alicia defaults to her main point. "The doctor said -"
"This again? I don't have time for you." Clea moves to storm out of her room again, but this time instead of standing in her way Alicia grabs her by the arm instead. Her sister is wasting away. There is no muscle to speak of. "Let go!"
If the youngest Dessendre has feared that her sibling was weakening before, then Clea's inability to break free from her hold is nothing short of petrifying.
This is her older sister. The strongest in the family. And she can't even yank her arm away from her baby sister who is shorter than her. What will happen if she crosses the path of a man or a Writer?
"No!" Alicia makes her decision. She pulls Clea flush against her and wraps her arms around her waist easily. "You have to take your medicine. Please - I can't lose you too!"
Her sister squirms and tries to push her away. Again, it does nothing. "You're not going to lose me. Just let go -!"
"The doctor says that it helps to have a second person in the room." Alicia rambles, forgetting the carefully crafted argument that she had spent hours thinking of. "Someone you trust. You know, to put you at ease."
"I don't need any help, I know exactly how to do it!"
"Then why won't you?"
"Because I don't want to!" Clea erupts suddenly, and uses a burst of fiery adrenaline to wrench herself away and grab for the doorhandle. "Our lives are at stake! Don't you see -?"
She gasps as Alicia seizes her around the waist from behind and slips one hand quickly under the hem of her skirt and down into her underthings.
"What the fuck are you -?" Her little sister's fingers slide down to part her nether lips. "What the fuck are you doing?!" A thumb grazes her clit. "Shit!" And then a finger pushes into her dry channel. "Shit! Alicia!"
Clea claws at the redhead's arms and tries to peel them away. She throws her weight to one side and tries to tip the girl over, only now she is so light that even her taller frame cannot drag Alicia down to the floor or get her off of her.
The youngest Dessendre struggles to walk backwards and uses her arm around Clea's waist to take her with her, dragging her older sister kicking and screaming in the direction of the bed.
"I'm sorry." She grits her teeth and refuses to cry. This has to be done.
"Let go of me!"
"It's for your own good!"
"Don't touch me!"
Clea throws her head back in a violent attempt to break Alicia's nose, and the redhead has to duck out of the way and, as a result, decides to take a small detour and slams her sister down on the desk instead of the bed.
She crowds Clea against the wooden surface and fumbles around in her underwear. It's hard to remember what the book said to do with so much screaming, and she kicks her sister's legs apart to give her hand a bit more room to work where it is wedged between Clea's waist and the hard edge of the desk.
She thinks that it said to use two fingers instead of one.
Clea screams bloody murder when the second digit slides inside of her. Her feet scramble for purchase on the marble floor and she tries desperately to twist away, but Alicia has her soundly pinned.
"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!"
"Stay still! I'm trying to -!"
"DON'T TOUCH -! Ohh!"
A low groan rips itself free of Clea's throat suddenly as Alicia's fingers curl against her front wall and graze against a rough patch of sensitive skin inside of her. The elder Dessendre's head drops to the desk in disbelief, her mouth hanging open, as a small trickle of slick dribbles onto her sister's fingertips.
"No," Clea shakes her head, gasping, and fights harder. "No!"
"It's okay." Alicia uses her thumb to rub circles against Clea's clit, then rubs circles against that rough patch inside of her, putting theory into practice. Clea flinches and tries to rip herself away. "I know what I'm doing. I read it in a book."
"Don't touch -! You can't -! You -!" Clea tries to elbow her. To punch at the arm around her waist and throw her hand back to slap her. But the angle makes it difficult to fight when Alicia has her bent over.
"You need to orgasm."
"I don't -!" Fingers claw at her wrist.
"You do." Alicia pulls Clea flush against her and works her fingers frantically between her legs. Resting her chin on her older sister's shoulder, she ignores the way Clea turns her blushing face away and insists. "You're working yourself into the grave. Cumming is for your own good!"
"I - hnngh!" Clea grits her teeth to hold back the noises as Alicia's ministrations finally begin to have proper effect. The redhead's fingers are dripping now, coated in unwilling slick. "Fuck! I hate you! I hate that fucking doctor!"
The younger sister picks up the pace and rubs her thumb against Clea's clit more insistently. The book said it was fine to increase the pressure, once the patient was lubricated -
"Fuuuuck!" Clea's voice damn near breaks at the end of the word that tears out of her like a scream. She keeps fighting. It's hopeless. "You -! I can't -! Ha, haa, haaa, haaaa ~!"
Noises Alicia has never heard before sing from her sister's throat and rise in pitch as her pleasure heightens. The redhead's mouth drops open, and she speeds up her fingering to draw out more of those heavenly sounds that make her brain swim in dopamine.
She had no idea that Clea was capable of sounding like this. No idea that behind the cruel scowl and snide remarks was this -
Alicia inserts a third finger, and Clea screams so loudly that the vibrations travel through the gaps in the door and it echoes off of the walls in the corridor. Her hips canter down, riding her little sister's hand even as she shouts and tries to fight it.
It's necessary to stimulate someone with three fingers if one wants to use the phallus, or so the doctor's book told Alicia. But the idea of leaving her sister for even a second now to run to the other room and grab the strap-on is nothing but a forgotten memory.
Clea needs this. Her walls clench around Alicia's fingers so tight. Inside of her cold sister she is sensitive and soft and shaking - her cunt quivers around the redhead's slender fingers and produces enough slick to fill a drinking glass. It's expecting a shaft.
"You're doing so well." Alicia can't help herself. She trails butterfly kisses down the slope of Clea's neck, then on the shell of her ear and temple and anywhere else that she can reach. "So well. You didn't need to be scared -"
"Stop!"
"I'll take care of you. Don't worry." On instinct, Alicia sucks on Clea's throat and bites down on the skin, working a purple love bite into existence. "You'll feel better. You just need medicine."
"Ha, haa ~!"
Alicia's mind goes blank at those sounds and all she can focus on is chasing them.
When Clea finally cums, she does not know how much time has passed, only that the feeling of her sister's walls clenching down around her fingers is something that she wants to experience again and again. The throaty moan that leaves her lips as her hips canter faster as Clea chases her peak only seals it.
Alicia keeps rubbing against Clea's g-spot with her fingers. She presses her thumb down harshly against the woman's engorged red clit and delights when her sister bites back a caterwaul as her pelvis stutters forward furiously.
Her actions turn a powerful aftershock into a second orgasm, and all through the spasming and the thrashing and the shouting Alicia continues working.
It's a good thing that their parent's bedroom is on the other side of the manor. The normally perfect and composed Clea has completely fallen apart. Who knew how loud she could be - or how addictive her moans.
"Stop - Stop - I can't -!" Clea gasps on the desk, her cheek smushed against it. "Alicia - I'm too sensitive -!"
"You need one more." Alicia does not falter.
Clea fights to be free again. "I don't need anything!"
"Three orgasms a day. That's what the doctor said."
And it doesn't matter how loud Clea screams or how hard she thrashes, for the end result is the same.
Clea's back bows this time as her third orgasm is her hardest yet. She yells as she peaks and goes stiff as her muscles fill with months worth of tension, and then when she crests over the edge it all bleeds out of her.
The elder sister goes limp beneath the younger, who is so dazed by her trance that her fingers keep working. Only when Clea yelps and groans does she realise what she is doing.
"Alicia -!"
"Sorry," Alicia pulls her hand away with difficulty. Her head feels fuzzy. She wants nothing more than to have Clea pinned beneath her forever making those sounds. "Are you okay?"
"You..." Clea groans, and then her legs give out and Alicia has to help her get across to the bed and lies her flat on top of the covers.
She runs to the bathroom to grab a towel, and catches herself staring as she cleans up the slick still clinging to her sister's inner thighs and the desk. The room stinks of musk and sweat and she throws open the windows to air it out.
On the bed, Clea struggles to keep her eyes open. Her chest rises and falls rapidly with panting gasps, and her brown fringe is stuck by sweat to her forehead. "Why did you...?"
The elder Dessendre passes out. With a phenomenal amount of self control, Alicia tucks her sister underneath the covers and leaves to go back to her own bedroom.
In the corner, she sees the bag with the strap-on and book in it, and has to cover her eyes with trembling fingers. Fingers that smell like Clea...
That was - What was -?
You damn fool.
She was only meant to help Clea, not get addicted to her.