Dr. Gregory's Wanton Assistant Read online

  Dr. Gregory’s Wanton Assistant

  By Serena Jones

  Copyright 2017 by 1217 Partners Publishing

  After forty minutes without the desired result, Dr. Ivan Gregory thought it was time to declare the experiment a failure, but his lab assistant, Miss Elspeth Fortescue, convinced him to continue a little longer, believing that she was close to success.

  The trial had started out promising. Elspeth settled into Dr. Gregory’s latest machine with a great deal of anticipation. She lay, half-reclined, upon a soft leather bench, her legs straddling its width. A comfortable cushion cradled her head. Elspeth had complained, respectfully, of course, about the discomfort of prior machines devised by her employer, pointing out that results were compromised when she developed a crick in her neck, or when something hard and knobby was digging into her spine.

  Having seen the logic in this argument, Gregory not only made certain that his assistant’s spot was comfortable, but he also changed his original design for the driveshaft attachment, substituting silk for the chamois leather he’d planned to use. He had, briefly, considered feathers instead of silk but ultimately decided they would not provide enough friction.

  Based on his observations today, he had made the right choice. When he lowered the driveshaft and the silk ribbons brushed against Miss Fortescue’s nipples, her breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes contentedly. The silk strands twirled first clockwise, then counter-clockwise, teasing and tantalizing. Her nipples hardened, the pink areola darkening to a rosy hue, their tips contracting into nuggets. Her arousal was observable in other areas as well. Gregory recorded the swelling of her labia and the lubrication of her womanhood. He presumed, based on these signs, that she would progress quickly to climax.

  This was not the case, however. Although the initial arousal was swift, Miss Fortescue reached a plateau and remained there. Her breathing did not quicken, her heart rate did not rise above a certain level, and Gregory noted with some interest that her clitoris did not swell beneath its hood.

  From Elspeth’s perspective, the early promise of the machine did not fulfill itself. The initial rush of erotic pleasure ran straight from her breasts to her nether region. She felt herself becoming wet. Her nipples tingled at every brush of the silken ribbons. However, this sensation did not increase in intensity the longer it went on. Quite the contrary, her low level of excitation lingered ineffectively for many minutes, filling her with frustration. She was helpless to do anything about it, as her hands were outstretched at her sides and restrained—the better to present her breasts to the machine—and ten minutes after Dr. Gregory had first suggested ending the procedure, she, too, agreed that nothing more was going to happen. Except, perhaps, that her nipples were starting to feel achy and irritated.

  “We do not wish that,” the scientist said when she described the sensation to him. He turned a dial and shifted a lever. The rotating driveshaft came to a halt and retreated back into the machine. Then, Gregory unlocked Miss Fortescue’s wrists and helped her sit up. “It appears that stimulation of the nipples alone does not lead to orgasm.”

  “Not in my case,” Elspeth said, standing and straightening her skirts. “Perhaps it might for another woman.”

  “True,” Gregory agreed, directing his eyes to his notes while she adjusted her garments.

  As previously noted, Gregory valued logic and was open to changing established procedures when logic suggested that they were not working or could be performed more efficiently. He would not have embarked on this quest to understand the mechanisms of sexual arousal and climax otherwise.

  Nevertheless, he found Miss Fortescue’s new laboratory attire highly distracting.

  He could not fault her reasoning. Their experiments focused on the erogenous areas of her body, namely her breasts and her womanhood. Unfastening all the pearl buttons on her blouse, unlacing her corset, and putting those items back on after the experiment consumed time that might better be spent on scientific research. Likewise, Miss Fortescue’s regular full skirts and petticoats were cumbersome and often got in the way when Gregory needed to access her nether regions, as he had during today’s observations. However, the young woman could not simply walk around the laboratory unclothed; that would be absurd and uncivilized!

  Miss Fortescue was nothing if not clever and innovative. She solved the problem by designing her own outfit, which she wore whenever they were conducting experiments. Her new corset bound her waist as tightly as ever but ended just below her breasts with semi-circle whale bones that cupped and lifted each snowy mound. Her blouse had no front to it, consisting only of a high lace collar, a back, and of course long sleeves. It was necessary for their work that she expose her breasts, but she certainly wasn’t going to bare her arms! Gregory had been perplexed by her choice to finish the sleeves in long leather cuffs, but Miss Fortescue pointed out that leather was fire resistant and thus a safer medium for the sleeves of a woman in a laboratory.

  They did not work with fire in this laboratory, but Gregory chose not to point that out, fearing that he was overlooking something that was obvious to her. He would have been the first to admit he was not an expert in women’s attire.

  Her skirts, too, had been modified. From the back, they looked like any woman’s dress, with a small bustle and layered rich fabric that fell to her heels. However, the skirts came to an abrupt end as they rounded her hips, revealing a short underskirt that barely covered the intersection of her legs and torso. This configuration revealed her legs, which Miss Fortescue admitted was not ideal, but she was willing to make the sacrifice out of necessity and the desire for expediency.

  Dr. Gregory did not understand why his assistant had taken to wearing thigh-high leather boots beneath this short skirt, instead of stockings, but again, he felt unqualified to question her.

  In truth, Elspeth wore them because she liked the way they looked with the outfit.

  “Now,” Gregory said briskly, snapping his pencil down on his slate as he concluded his notes. “This afternoon, I have arranged—”

  “Dr. Gregory,” Elspeth interrupted. “This experiment has left me in quite a state.”

  Yes, it had. Gregory had observed her unresolved arousal for himself, and he felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t been gentlemanly enough to mention it first. “Of course,” he demurred. “Please help yourself to the Rod.” Then he deliberately turned back to his stimulation machine as if he had some very important adjustments to make on it.

  A streak of resentment ran through Elspeth as she retrieved the device Dr. Gregory referred to as “the Rod.” She was well aware of the effect her new working garments had on her employer—or at least the effect they used to have. At first, when she started wearing it, his erections were a daily occurrence. He never did anything about them, unless his participation was required in the experiments. But Elspeth viewed his tented pants as the only evidence that her employer saw her as a woman as well as a subject of his experiments.

  That was why today, when she saw no evidence of an erection at all, she felt quite pouty. She could have taken the Rod to a more private area of the laboratory and brought herself to climax quickly and quietly. Instead, she picked up the device—an eighteen inch-long metal cylinder with a rounded head on the end of it—and switched it on. The head of the Rod began to vibrate. Standing right in front of Dr. Gregory, she slipped the device under her short front skirt and began to pleasure herself.

  At first, she barely grazed her flesh with the metal sphere. Elspeth had learned by experience that the vibration from this device was … vigorous. Better to ease oneself into its exuberance than confront it too abruptly. The shivering metal brushed against her swollen lips, r
eawakening them. Avoiding her clitoris, which wasn’t ready for such an assault, she focused on teasing her labia. The crescendo of sexual arousal, which Dr. Gregory’s new machine had failed to provoke, grew within her, and soon she was pressing the Rod between her nether lips, holding it against the opening to her womanhood. Her breathing grew ragged. Her nipples were hard once more. From beneath her lashes, she slyly cast a look at the front of Gregory’s trousers where, to her annoyance, she saw no bulge of his manhood.

  If Elspeth had only known, there was a good reason that Gregory did not appear to be erect, even though he secretly was very aroused. Those erections, which Elspeth looked for each day, had become a trial to him. Not only did they distract him from his work, but it seemed disrespectful to his clever and hardworking assistant to lust after her with no scientific goal in mind. Therefore, he devised a “working garment” of his own that would discourage this inconvenient and very vexing physiological reaction.

  For the past several days, he’d been wearing the Reminder, which is what he had named the device, intending for it to remind him of his duty. It consisted of a plate, rather like a codpiece, that rested against the front of his pelvis and from which arched a curved metal tube. Into this tube he inserted his penis. The end was constructed like a cage, with openings that allowed him to urinate freely. A metal hoop ran beneath his scrotum, and the whole contraption was snapped into place, attached to a belt, and secured by a locking mechanism. The key, he kept by design in a locked box in his office, inconveniently protected by three padlocks.

  Gregory could bathe while wearing the Reminder. He could go about his normal business and scarcely think of it at all. What he could not do was have an erection.

  To his surprise and chagrin, the Reminder did not prevent him from becoming aroused. He still felt desire when he looked upon Miss Fortescue’s dusky nipples and when he examined her wet and pulsing womanhood. His member swelled against the confines of its entrapment. It leaked that translucent fluid which was a precursor to intercourse and meant to act as natural lubrication—but there was no means by which he could achieve full erection and no chance of a climax and ejaculation.

  His original intention had been to wear the device only during the hours he worked in the laboratory with Miss Fortescue. However, by the time she departed for her own domicile in the early evenings, Gregory was usually deep into his reading and studies, scribbling notes and sketching designs for future experiments. The Reminder was not uncomfortable to wear, and he often forgot about it until he had retired to his own living quarters—and then it seemed too much trouble to return to his office and commence the steps needed to remove it.

  Invariably, he went to bed still wearing it, and it was in the middle of the night that the true irony of his choice in name—the Reminder—became apparent. His dreams were filled with reminders of how full Miss Fortescue’s breasts were, how her nipples darkened when they became erect, how readily her juices flowed when she was aroused. And for some reason, he dreamed repeatedly of those tall leather boots. Then he would wake in the dead of night, his heart pounding and his penis trapped in its confinement, the head pressed desperately against the bars of its cage, no relief possible unless he trekked down to his laboratory office and searched through three volumes of scientific academic theory for the hidden combinations that would release the key …

  So far, he hadn’t become desperate enough in the night to release himself. And during the day, he was too busy.

  Now, glancing at Miss Fortescue’s outward appearance—flushed cheeks, open mouth, erect nipples, and slightly arched back—he saw that she was close to bringing herself to climax. Good. As soon as that was finished, they could return to the work at hand.

  And his penis could stop battering itself against its metal jail.

  Elspeth also knew the signs of her impending orgasm. Her clitoris had awakened, and she could now press the vibrating Rod against that little nub for brief intervals, pushing herself higher and higher on the ladder of sexual arousal. She felt the brutal, metal hardness of the device, and it occurred to her hazily that although she’d climaxed more than two dozen times for Dr. Gregory—had been penetrated for at least half of those occasions and given up her very maidenhood to his endeavors—she had never felt anything but cold, unyielding and lifeless machinery between her legs. Glass and metal—those were the only two substances which had breached her womanhood. Even when Dr. Gregory fucked her, it was within the confines of his Infernal Machine, the monstrosity by which he had taught her to open herself willingly for plunder. When strapped into the Infernal Machine, Dr. Gregory’s penis was encased inside a glass one, which ravaged her as the machine saw fit.

  She knew that, without the glass penis surrounding it, Dr. Gregory’s appendage would have considerable less girth. Yet, she’d gladly sacrifice that size to experience warm human skin entering her body, to feel the pulse of his blood matching hers and the spurt of his hot ejaculation …

  These thoughts pushed her over the threshold of climax. Elspeth clamped her lips together and held back an outcry as her vaginal walls contracted. Her body jerked spasmodically, and within seconds, it was over. She removed the Rod from between her legs, switched it off, and returned it to its station, feeling the same way she always did after reaching a climax this way.

  When one had a full bladder, urination rewarded the body with the pleasurable relief of pressure. Likewise, when she had swollen nipples and a pulsing womanhood, the Rod rewarded her with the pleasurable release of that pressure. She couldn’t say it gave her much joy compared to the ecstasy of being fucked—even by a glass or metal penis.

  “Satisfied?” Gregory asked.

  “Yes. Thank you for asking,” Elspeth replied matter-of-factly. They might as well have been discussing whether the tea was brewed to her taste.

  “Now,” said Gregory, “as I was saying earlier, this afternoon I have arranged for an interview with a potential new laboratory assistant.”

  “A new assistant?” Elspeth repeated, raising her eyebrows.

  “Not to replace you, of course,” Gregory assured her. “Rather, to replace me. For me to continue to play the role of both experimenter and experimented-on is to court disaster.”

  “Ah.” Elspeth nodded. She realized he was planning on withdrawing himself from participation and covered her disappointment and feelings of rejection with a frivolous remark. “You fear going the way of Dr. Jekyll.”

  “I do not know Dr. Jekyll,” Gregory replied innocently. “In what field does he study?”

  Elspeth closed her eyes briefly, feeling a surge of fondness for this unworldly man. “None, seeing as he is fictional.”

  “Ah. That explains why I have not read his work,” Gregory stated valiantly, utterly confused by this conversational turn, but determined to hold his own. “This potential new laboratory assistant, however, is real enough to call upon us within the hour.” He checked his pocket watch for the time, and Elspeth reached automatically for the clock piece she ordinarily wore around her neck. But she had left it off today, due to the nature of the scheduled experiment. She had not wanted to risk it being caught in the machinery.

  “I would like you to be present at the interview,” Gregory continued. “And, er, I think you should wear more … traditional clothing for it.”

  “Oh,” said Elspeth, glancing down at her naked bosom and her exposed thighs beneath the short skirt. “Indeed. We wouldn’t want to frighten him off before he’s begun.”

  “Exactly,” Gregory said as she turned and retreated to the private area reserved for her changes in clothing. As soon as she was gone, Gregory adjusted the Reminder within his trousers, wriggling somewhat at the tight fit his penis had endured for the past hour, and hoping that the wet spot where his pre-cum had leaked into his pants was obscured by the dark fabric.

  ***

  Mr. Elliot Brown was nearly impoverished, although he did not wish this to be publicly known. His father was a hopeless gambler who had pi
ddled away the family fortune and was now kept from debtor’s prison only by his son’s efforts to earn a salary. Mr. Brown had no background in science, no education or experience that would qualify him as a scientist’s laboratory assistant, but he hoped to bluff his way through the interview with Dr. Gregory.

  The scientist himself was exactly what Elliot had expected— somewhere in his forties, dark hair with streaks of gray, vaguely muddled in that way that great thinkers usually were. Elliot had never suffered from that problem, although he was quick to take advantage of it in others. He felt certain he could convince Dr. Gregory of his undying devotion to whatever it was the old man studied.

  The girl, however, was a surprise. Elliot was startled to discover that Gregory expected her to remain for the interview. He was even more shocked when she asked him a question about the scientific method (whatever that was). Elliot looked her up and down, taking in her lucid eyes, her auburn locks, her plump lips, and—with a lingering gaze—her bosom, which threatened to burst out of its tight bodice. Then he addressed Dr. Gregory politely. “I am sorry, sir. I do not mean to give offense, but does your daughter normally question your laboratory assistants?”

  Elspeth drew in her breath—offended by his assumption. She looked at Ivan Gregory anew. Yes, he did have a trace of gray in his hair, but was he really old enough to be her father? Her own father, bless his departed soul, had been over sixty years old. Granted, her father had been rather old to have a daughter her age, but did that not mean he must have been Gregory’s age when he first became a father?

  Gregory, who knew quite well the age difference between himself and Miss Fortescue, was also disturbed by the erroneous assumption, but for different reasons. “Miss Fortescue is not my daughter,” he told Mr. Brown. “She is my employee.”

  “Oh!” Elliot exclaimed in some relief. This meant he need not be overly polite to her. Thank heavens. He hated having to be obsequious to women. “That is very good indeed, sir.” Then, trying to pretend he had experience researching in the field of science, he said, “At the facility where I last worked, we had no one to make the tea or sweep up after us. It is a relief to know that will not be a problem here!”