Dr. Gregory's Wanton Assistant Page 3

  Finally, he lay back on the reclining bench, his body quivering in reaction to the greatest agony of bliss he’d ever experienced.

  This was, he thought, the best employment any young man could possibly have stumbled into.

  There was only one complication.

  ***

  They allowed him some privacy to clean up and put his clothing in order. Elliot took his time, thinking about what he should do next.

  The scientist had retreated to his office, and Miss Fortescue was blithely cleaning out the device in which Archie had enjoyed such a good time. She hummed to herself as she carefully extracted all the gel and pearly juices from the cylinder to put in a centrifuge (whatever that was.) The tear-away parts of her dress had been restored to their correct places, but Elliot could still picture those beautiful mounds atop her corset and the slender, smooth thighs that looked so virginal—and yet probably were not. How could a woman’s face appear so innocent while displaying her body so wantonly?

  Elliot had to admit, a woman who looked liked an angel but was actually a demon in bed could be every man’s dream. Nevertheless, such a woman was not part of his life’s plan at the present time, and he spent several minutes wrestling over his decision.

  In the end, he mentally congratulated himself on doing the right and chivalrous thing, all while imagining the wanton acts Miss Fortescue could perform for him—which, as previously stated, were not very wanton at all. Straightening his cravat and stiffening his back, he went to address her. “May I have a word, Miss Fontescue?”

  She looked up, one auburn curl tumbling over her cheek, her blue eyes sparkling with innocence even while she handled Elliot’s pearly juices. “Yes, Mr. Brown. Of course.”

  He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what circumstances brought you to the point of working for Dr. Gregory, although I know they must have been dire, and I’ve no doubt that you have worries about your future.”

  She tilted her pretty auburn head to one side and pursed her plump lips. “How so?”

  “You have been exposed to things that an innocent girl should never see. This has affected your behavior and shaped your mind so that you will never again fit within society. Most decent men would consider you an unacceptable match. However, by virtue of the fact that you have seen and touched my steed—” He wasn’t going to tell her its private name unless she asked. “—and that I have seen parts of you only the most intimate member of your household should see, I have made up my mind to marry you forthwith.”

  Miss Fortescue’s mouth fell open.

  Elliot clasped his hands behind his back and paced. “It was not in my plans to marry at this time. My finances are … not optimum at present …”

  “Mr. Brown.”

  “But we shall tighten our belts and do the best we can. I will continue to work here, and you—”

  “Mr. Brown!”

  He stopped pacing and turned to face her in some puzzlement. “Yes, my dear?”

  Her eyes flashed. “I will not marry you.”

  Elliot paused, considered this statement, and then nodded. “No, you are quite right. A long engagement would be better, with nuptials postponed until I am more financially secure. That way, Mama can take her time getting used to the idea, since it is certain to be a shock to her.”

  It appeared that wanton women required an education in proper manners before they could be deemed suitable for meeting one’s mother because Miss Fortescue did not even thank him before stomping out of the room.

  ***

  Dr. Gregory rifled through his office, trying to find the three books which contained the combinations to the padlocks which would release the key to his Reminder.

  He could tolerate it no more. In truth, he should have taken the time to release himself a day or two earlier. He did not want to blame his current condition on Miss Fortescue—on her working attire, her skillful handling of Mr. Brown, or her impassioned defense of his research. It was not her fault. He should have been taking better stock of his sexual health.

  Gregory, of all people, should have known better.

  It took far too long to get the box open, which had been the point of locking it up so securely in the first place, but finally he had the key in hand. He dropped his trousers to the floor and bent to fit the key into the Reminder’s latch.

  That was when Miss Fortescue burst through the door. “Dr. Gregory, you must do something about this new assistant!” Then she froze.

  Gregory, literally caught with his drawers down, fumbled the key. It bounced across the floor and landed at Miss Fortescue’s feet. She bent and picked it up, then walked toward him, her expression puzzled and her boots clicking on the floor. “What is that? Another experiment?”

  “Miss Fortescue,” Gregory protested, barely resisting the urge to cover his nether region with his hands. “You should knock before entering your employer’s office!”

  “What is its purpose?” She tilted her head, regarding the Reminder with her brow furrowed. “Why, it’s to prevent erection, isn’t it?”

  Gregory’s shoulders sagged. “Yes.” The young woman was far too perceptive.

  She raised her earnest face to his. “Why?”

  “I needed to concentrate on my work.”

  “Why are you removing it now?”

  “It’s … chafing.”

  “Where? I’m sure I can fix that for you.” Miss Fortescue sank to her knees and fitted the key into the locking mechanism.

  “Miss Fortescue!” Gregory exclaimed. “What are you doing? I’ll take care of it!”

  She lifted the codpiece away from him slowly, easing his penis out of it. “Yes, I see where it’s been chafing. How long have you been wearing it?”

  “Five days.” Gregory bent and peered at himself. There was, indeed, a red mark on his flesh.

  “That’s probably too long,” she said, standing and turning the codpiece over to look at its underside. “But I can fix this chafing issue.”

  “As can I,” Gregory insisted. Her proximity was causing his penis to swell.

  “Don’t be silly. I should be doing work like this. You have your experiments to think about, and after five days, you must be in need as well.”

  Without warning, her hand clamped around his hardening penis, squeezing it in such a way that it grew harder yet. His eyes closed of their own accord, but he forced them open. “Miss Fortescue, this is most inappropriate.”

  “Is it?” she asked. “I wouldn’t know. It seems to me that it’s very similar to the time that you restrained me against your Infernal Machine and stimulated my breasts until I was in a desperate state of arousal. I was innocent of such things before I entered this laboratory for an interview of employment. Within a matter of days, I had seen things that no girl is normally exposed to, and two months hence, my behavior has adapted accordingly.”

  Her fingers closed and opened spasmodically, so that he could hardly bear it. His penis was fully erect now and aching for her. The proximity of their bodies was making his head spin. She had never been so bold before, and he felt a shiver of alarm that her words were correct. That he, his laboratory, and his experiments had made this mark on her psyche.

  Miss Fortescue leaned very close and whispered in his ear. “I may never blend in with decent society again. I am changed, and yet—despite all I’ve endured in the name of your research—I have never felt the warmth of a man’s skin between my legs. It is always cold steel or glass, and therefore I remain untouched, although society would not take the same view.”

  Gregory’s manhood throbbed, and his heart ached for her words. “Miss Fortescue,” he said quietly, “neither I nor my new assistant can penetrate you with our naked members, lest we inadvertently render you with child.”

  Elspeth recoiled, her face crumpling with understanding and embarrassment. Of course she should have realized that. Her hand released its grip on Dr. Gregory’s penis. His metal prison clattered to the floor. With her face burning in humiliation, she
retreated toward the door.

  Gregory scrambled after her, bracing one hand to either side of her and trapping her in a corner. “Did you mean what you said?” he asked. “Do you believe I have ruined you?”

  She looked away. “No, of course not. It was nonsense that was said to me just now by your idiot new assistant. I only wanted to make you feel guilty so that I could more easily bend you to my will.”

  Against all common sense, Gregory stepped nearer to her still, until the scent of her skin invaded his nostrils and activated every nerve ending in his body. “I cannot do what you ask,” he said softly to her turned-away face and flushed cheeks. “But you are correct. I have corrupted you and deprived you, but if you wish to feel warm flesh, a man has more than one appendage.”

  He reached under her skirt, and with the false front attached, it took some effort. Her adapted work costume made better sense to him by the time he’d gotten under the excess fabric and felt for her womanhood. She gasped at his touch, but at the same time, she had the presence of mind to go searching for him with her hand, discovering his fully erect penis at the same moment he slipped two fingers inside her. She squeezed him; he gasped. He flexed his fingers; she moaned.

  This is wrong. This is wrong, Gregory thought, working his fingers in and out of his beautiful research assistant. And yet, was it wrong so much as an occupational hazard? When studying sexual arousal, it had to be normal and natural to succumb to the process occasionally. Just as the Reminder had kept him focused on his tasks this week, was it not also logical to assume that he and his assistants should give their bodies sexual release if it did not occur as a byproduct of the experiments?

  Her fingers stroked his manhood, her touch light. There was no lubrication, but his need was so great, he knew it would not take long for him to climax. Every second he lasted was a spiraling high of aching delight. The pads of her fingers explored his length, the flaring ridge, his sensitive tip. There she found moisture, and a rush of blood swelled his penis even more as she spread those drops of natural lubricant over the head of his manhood.

  Miss Fortescue, for her part, did not lack lubrication. She was wet inside and out. Gregory, despite all his research in this field, had never had his fingers inside a woman before, and as he explored her depths, he realized this was a gap in his knowledge that he really should remedy. His fingers felt the entrance to her womb and the fleshy walls of her womanly vessel.

  Her face was poised in an expression of rapture, her eyes unfocused, her lips parted. Gregory found himself fixating on those plump lips, the urge to taste them growing so strong he couldn’t resist any longer. He started leaning toward them when suddenly she cried out, “There! Right there! That spot!”

  She didn’t mean her lips, he realized. Perplexed, Gregory pressed his fingers into the wall of her womanhood, and the young woman let out a keening cry of ecstasy. Yet he felt nothing unique about that location.

  “Why there?” he asked, his keen scientific mind activating even while in the throes of ecstasy himself.

  Miss Fortescue’s eyes focused on his own, and he saw there the spark of curiosity. “I don’t know,” she gasped. He rubbed the tips of his fingers against her vaginal wall once more, and she held his gaze as she slipped into orgasm.

  Gregory climaxed as well, a satisfying surge of semen splattering the front of Miss Fortescue’s dress. His manhood throbbed and pulsed, but Gregory’s attention was more on his assistant than his own pleasure.

  Her moans turned into babbling, words that were not words at all. Her womanhood clenched his fingers spasmodically, and her body shook and quivered as if she were having a seizure. Gregory had to put his arm around her delicate waist to prevent her from sliding down the wall. He kept the fingers of his other hand inside her throughout the entire climax, but stopped moving them, for fear that he had over-stimulated her.

  Miss Fortescue’s orgasm lasted longer than any other she’d had to date, but eventually it subsided. Her shudders diminished to trembling; her ragged gasps became heavy breathing and finally slowed. Only when she seemed recovered enough to stand on her own did Gregory release her and step backward. “Dr. Gregory,” she said, when she could speak again. “I believe we have discovered something new.”

  “It appears so.” He recovered his trousers from the floor and stepped into them. “I am very sorry to say that I have soiled your dress.”

  With a small gesture that indicated this was the least of her concerns, Miss Fortescue unfastened the front panel of her skirt, detached it, and dropped it to the floor. Then, with a gasp, she put one hand to her abdomen and braced herself against the wall.

  “Miss Fortescue—”

  “I am still climaxing,” she said, in a tone of wonder.

  Gregory watched her with fascination. “We shall have to investigate this phenomenon.”

  “But not today.” She cast him a pleading look.

  He smiled, remembering a similar conversation on the occasion when they first used the Infernal Machine. “No, not today. In fact, perhaps you should retire for the afternoon. Return to your lodgings and rest.”

  “No,” she said. “I just need a few minutes to recover.”

  “Then I shall return to the laboratory. We have left Mr. Brown too long idle.”

  “Oh dear,” Elspeth said weakly. The orgasm Dr. Gregory had given her had left her shaken, although she was trying to maintain a professional demeanor. And she had forgotten all about Mr. Brown. “There is a small problem. By virtue of my having seen his penis and he having seen my breasts, Mr. Brown now believes we are betrothed.”

  “Oh dear, indeed,” Gregory remarked. He supposed that was another occupational hazard, mistaking sexual desire for romantic love. There had been that moment, when he almost kissed her, where similar notions of personal affection had crossed his mind. “Would you like me to have a word with him on the matter?”

  “That would be very helpful.”

  “Then, if he is sufficiently recovered, we will commence with the second trial of this experiment. I postulate that he will not be able to produce as large an erection on the second round, coming so soon after the first. Nor will he ejaculate as much semen.”

  Elspeth nodded. “It is also likely that the duration of his, er, ‘Critical Period’ will be shorter.”

  “Excellent thinking.” Gregory wanted to say something about their sexual interlude, but he did not know exactly what. She seemed recovered now—and back to her usual professional self—so he decided it was for the best if he said nothing at all. With a courteous nod, he left the office intending to find Mr. Brown and disabuse him of his chivalrous but unwelcome ideas.

  Elspeth was not, in fact, completely recovered. Her head was spinning, and her knees felt weak. As she picked up Dr. Gregory’s erection preventative, intending to examine the place where it had chafed his skin, she was struck by another spasm of her womanhood.

  She had not known, even after her participation in all these experiments, that sexual pleasure could reach such heights. Nevertheless, it did not surprise her in the least that her employer was the one to discover it.

  Now, more than ever, Elspeth determined that she would have Dr. Ivan Gregory’s manhood inside her, and she would not get with child from it, either.

  She looked at the preventative in her hand, and then she looked at the glass bauble around her neck, which had gotten itself turned around to the cog and gear side. Her father had taught her that one needed to learn how something worked in order to fully understand it. She and Dr. Gregory had discovered something new about the workings of the female sexual organ today. Perhaps there was something new she could learn about the male counterpart.

  She needed, she realized, to understand how the mechanism of ejaculation worked.

  The cogs and gears in her mind were already turning.

  Other Works by Serena Jones

  Dr. Gregory’s Infernal Machine

  Dr. Gregory’s Seduction

  Games with Strang
ers

  Games with Strangers 2

  Games with Strangers 3

  Educating the Vandertrasks

  About the Author

  By day, Serena Jones writes traditionally published books of another genre under a different name. At night, however, things take a naughtier turn. Serena originally wrote Dr. Gregory’s Infernal Machine as a Christmas present for her husband. But erotica is like potato chips—impossible to stop at just one.