Dr. Gregory's Seduction

by Serena Jones

  “What? Wait! Where are you going?” Mr. Brown wriggled in his restraints and continued to protest until she reappeared with one of Dr. Gregory’s metal cylinders. “Yes, please!” he gasped when he saw it.

  Elspeth eased the device over his erect member. His penis passed through a rubber valve as it went into the cylinder, gel leaking from the other end as his flesh displaced it. With the flip of a switch, the cylinder started vibrating. Inside, the gel churned around Mr. Brown’s greatly sensitized skin.

  He moaned, pumping his pelvis up and down. Elspeth thought there would be a quick end to it, but after a couple minutes, he looked up at her, his face a study in frustration. “I am so near to my Critical Period,” he said, “but I cannot get there. What has that damnable strap done to me?”

  “It is doing what it was designed to do, which is to keep you highly aroused without reaching climax for as long as possible.” Elspeth turned off the vibrating cylinder and pulled it off his manhood.

  He hissed as his penis emerged, still raging hard and covered with soft warm goo. “How long are you going to keep me like this? Show some mercy, Miss Fortescue!” Then a sly look passed over his face. “I know something else you can try.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” she asked warily.

  “Show me your girls.” His eyes dropped to her bosom.

  “What?”

  He licked his lips. “Let me suck on Bonnie and Dottie. I want to taste them.”

  Elspeth’s eyes grew very large. “Mr. Brown, have you named my breasts?”

  He nodded. “And your womanhood. I call her Kitty.”

  Before she even thought about what she was doing, Elspeth slapped Mr. Brown’s erect penis with the palm of her hand.

  “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Archie likes that! Do it again!”

  “I think this trial is finished,” she said briskly, undoing the buckle of her leather strap and pulling it out from under his scrotum.

  He sucked in his breath between his teeth. “You’re not going to leave me in this condition, are you?”

  She was tempted to leave him exactly like this and might have done so, except that she didn’t want Dr. Gregory to return and find him that way. Therefore, she released one hand so that he’d be able to extricate himself. “Say nothing of this to Dr. Gregory,” she warned him. “Or I shall tell him that you have most vulgarly named my womanly parts and asked me to do unspeakable things. I shall lodge a complaint about you and get you fired.”

  “You’ll lodge a complaint against me?” he muttered. “I’m the one who’s been ill-used here, you wanton girl. I suppose I’ll have to finish myself off.”

  “Once again, you suppose correctly,” she said, walking away.

  ***

  The next step in Elspeth’s plan was the most difficult and the most risky. She wavered over her decision that afternoon, considering that perhaps what she wanted was not worth the chance of losing what she had. But then her resolve returned. It was worth the risk.

  She waited until Mr. Brown had left for the day and Dr. Gregory was deep into his reading and research in his office. Then she brought him a cup of tea.

  “Thank you, Miss Fortescue,” he said. “I did not know you were still here.”

  “I have a few more reports to file.” She watched him sip the tea.

  His brow rumpled. “Is this a new blend?”

  “Yes.” She had blended it with laudanum. “Do you like it?”

  “There is a little more sugar in it than I prefer.” That was to cover the taste of the laudanum. “But I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” She stood there a few seconds longer, hovering as if she was concerned that he didn’t like the tea—which in fact she was—and, ever polite, the scientist took another long sip of it. She smiled and exited the office.

  Three quarters of an hour later, she returned to find the tea cup empty and Dr. Gregory dozing in his chair, his book still open in front of him. Noiselessly, she crept into the office. This was another tricky part, but she could not have done it earlier in the day lest he have gone looking for the object she needed and discovered its absence.

  The key to his Reminder was kept in a triple- padlocked box. Elspeth knew that he secreted the combinations in various books around the room. After her trial with Mr. Brown this afternoon, she had combed the office until she found all three and copied them down. Now, with her heart pounding and hands shaking, she worked the dials on the padlocks, glancing over her shoulder to make certain he hadn’t awakened. Finally she was able to lift the lid of the box and slip the key into her own pocket. Then she retreated to the doorway and called out, as if she had just come in, “Dr. Gregory!”

  His head jerked up, and he blinked at her, confused. He rubbed his eyes. “I—must have dropped off for a moment.”

  Elspeth took a step toward him. “You don’t look well. Are you ill?”

  Her words apparently alerted him to the fact that he did not, in fact, feel quite well. She saw a look of uncertainty pass over his face, although what he said was, “I’m sure I am just a little tired. Perhaps I will retire for the evening.” He stood, pushing his chair back at the same time, and stumbled off balance.

  Elspeth was at his side in an instant, taking his arm. “You are not well, Dr. Gregory. I will escort you upstairs.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he demurred.

  “I insist. There’s been talk of a new influenza in town, and I will not be able to rest tonight, wondering if you safely made it to your quarters. What if you fainted on the stairs and hit your head?”

  “I don’t think I’m likely to faint, Miss Fortescue.” But he did not make her remove her arm. Elspeth thought he should feel quite dizzy indeed, with the dose she had put in his tea. She helped him up the stairs to his lodgings above the laboratory. When he fumbled trying to open the door, she took the key from his hand and did it herself.

  Inside his home for the first time, Elspeth glanced around curiously. His rooms looked exactly as she had thought they would—as if a bachelor with no interest in housekeeping occasionally passed through, piled books in places they ought not be, stirred up the dust by moving things around, and left. When she started guiding him toward his bed chamber, he stopped her. “I can make it from here, Miss Fortescue. Thank you for your kindness in seeing me this far.”

  “I will wait by the door until I hear that you have safely made it to your bed,” she said, not wanting to press him by insisting she escort him all the way there. The poor man looked embarrassed enough as it was, and Elspeth felt a pang of guilt for what she had done to him. He placed his hands on the backs of chairs, the tops of table, and the wall to steady himself as he walked across the main living chamber. He passed through the doorway into another room, and a few seconds later, Elspeth heard the creak of bed springs.

  “Thank you, Miss Fortescue,” he called. “You can go now.”

  “Rest and feel better,” she called back. Then she opened and shut the main door to his apartment without leaving and retreated to a corner where he would not easily see her. She brushed dust off a chair before sitting down.

  After half an hour, when she had heard no sounds from his bed chamber, she got up and quietly crept to the doorway.

  He had managed to take off his suit coat and his shoes. Then he’d apparently just lay down on his back—perhaps he’d only meant to rest there a second—and fallen asleep. Elspeth approached him, admiring how the lines of his face smoothed out in sleep. A lock of hair had fallen across his brow. She wanted to comb it back into place with her fingers, but she resisted. Her understanding was that he would sleep deeply at first and then less so as the effects of the drug wore off. If she didn’t want this adventure to end in complete disaster, she needed to waste no time on hair petting and get directly to business.

  ***

  “Dr. Gregory. Dr. Gregory. Wake up.”

  The words swam in his head, which seemed to be filled with pea soup. He opened his eyes, blinking once, twice, three times. Some
one leaned over him.

  Miss Fortescue.

  “I thought you seemed to be waking up,” she said.

  Gregory was confused. He appeared to be lying down, and at first he thought there must have been some accident in the lab that had temporarily rendered him unconscious. But it was his bed chamber ceiling above him, not the laboratory. He remembered feeling dizzy and retiring to his apartment to rest. Miss Fortescue had accompanied him as far as the living room and then departed.

  How sick was he, and how long had he been insensate? Had he failed to appear in the laboratory the next day, so that Miss Fortescue had come upstairs to look for him?

  “You are not ill,” she said as if reading his mind. “You fell asleep because I drugged your tea, but it’s wearing off now.”

  “What?” Her words didn’t make sense for a second. And then they did.

  He tried to sit up, which was when he discovered that his arms were tied over his head. To the bedpost. He looked down at himself next, and found that he was wearing no trousers, no undergarments, and no Reminder. She had left him his socks and his pressed shirt.

  He raised his eyes to hers. “This is highly inappropriate, Miss Fortescue—and outrageous—and unacceptable—and—”

  “Wanton?” She leaned over him again, her breasts swelling above her neckline in a most distracting manner. “Mr. Brown called me wanton today. I rather think I liked it.”

  Gregory realized that she was unbuttoning her bodice. Standing at his bedside. Undressing. He looked away, but his traitorous manhood stirred beneath his shirt tails. Even if he didn’t watch her, he knew she was there. In his bed chamber. Taking off her clothes.

  “This is wrong,” he said. “You are making an egregious mistake.”

  “What I am doing is conducting an experiment, rather like you do on me every day.”

  “With your consent.”

  “Not the first time.”

  Gregory sighed. This was true, and she had reminded him of it many times. “Will I ever be able to make amends for that?”

  Miss Fortescue had finally divested herself of her bodice. Women’s clothing really did take too long to put on and take off. Gregory felt a new appreciation for Miss Fortescue’s tear-away costume, which she had not worn today because there were no experiments scheduled. He would have suspected something immediately if she’d shown up in it.

  Probably.

  Possibly.

  If he’d noticed her attire at all. Admittedly, he had been preoccupied of late.

  “I think,” she said, working on her skirt and petticoats, “that this will clear the slates between us.”

  “What is your experiment?”

  She produced a bit of leather string with a buckle dangling from one end. “I’m testing the theory that this device will enhance your erection and extend your arousal while delaying your climax.”

  “How—”

  Miss Fortescue demonstrated by slipping the strap under his scrotum and wrapping it tight around the base of his penis. She constricted the strap through the buckle, pulling it until his balls were caught tight and bound to his erect member. The sensation was exquisite, and Gregory struggled to hold his thought processes together. “What does this do?”

  “It allows the flow of blood in, encouraging your erection and subsequent arousal,” she replied, calling on the anatomy she’d researched after speaking to Daisy. “But it restricts the blood flow out of this region, leaving you with a persistently hard organ until such time as the pressure is released. I have already conducted a trial run with Mr. Brown—”

  “You have?” Gregory was shocked by the raw emotion he felt at the thought of Miss Fortescue and Mr. Brown having coitus, which—based on their conversation that day in his office—he assumed was her goal. If Mr. Brown had put his manhood inside her, Gregory would strangle the boy with his bare hands.

  Her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t do it exactly the way I’m planning to test you, but suffice it to say that his preferred method of reaching climax did not work while he was bound in this manner.” Her skirt and petticoats hit the floor in a pile of ruffles, and she began to unlace her corset. “However, Miss Daisy has told me that nothing is foolproof, so if you feel that you are nearing ejaculation, you must tell me.”

  “Miss Daisy. I should have known.” Gregory’s penis was fully erect now. In fact it was raging, veins bulging, aching. She cast her corset aside and stood before him nearly naked, wearing only her white stockings and lace garter belt. His pulse pounded so loudly, he could hardly hear his own voice. “Miss Fortescue,” he said as she climbed onto the bed, “Once again, I must ask you to reconsider your—”

  Elspeth straddled him, positioned her womanhood over his erect member, and sank down upon him.

  She thought she had prepared herself for how this would feel. She had previously been penetrated by glass, steel, leather, and a man’s fingers, and she thought her imagination had provided her with ample fodder for what a man’s penis would be like.

  She had been wrong.

  Gregory’s protest was cut off mid-sentence, his eyes fixed on the intersection of their bodies. Elspeth had only managed to take half of him in that first thrust, and now, as she pushed downward, the rest of him disappeared inside her. This dragged a moan from Gregory. He closed his eyes.

  “Oh,” said Elspeth, perched atop him. “Oh.”

  Warm skin filled her, his shaft buried to the hilt inside her womanhood. But it wasn’t just that. Her naked thighs were pressed against his hips. There was a bit of his shirt caught between them, and when she pulled it out of the way and leaned forward, the skin of her belly brushed against his. Instinctively, she took her weight on her hands, bracing them against the mattress, lifted her pelvis up, and slid back down. “Ohhhhhhh …”

  “Elspeth.” His eyes were open again. His voice was hoarse. “Release my hands.”

  She hadn’t intended to, no matter what he said. Not until she was finished with him. But she hadn’t expected him to say her name, her Christian name, which he had never used before. She hadn’t expected him to look at her the way he was looking at her now. Wordlessly, she unbound his hands—then waited for him to lift her off his body and banish her from his bed and most probably his life.

  That was not what he did.

  He put one hand behind her head and pulled it down until he could reach her lips with his own.

  Here was a second “first” thing for her today. First time penetrated by a man’s male organ. First kiss. How very odd and yet utterly like them that they should do these things in a backward order.

  After that, everything was a blur, and later Elspeth would be hard pressed to recall what happened when. Did he unpin her hair before or after she unbuttoned his shirt? How many times did they kiss before she pulled away and gave herself over to riding his manhood? She would, however, always remember the moment when she realized she was entirely in control of her own pleasure. Sitting back, she felt his member lodged all the way up by her womb. Leaning forward stimulated her clitoris. He rested one hand on her hip as she made these movements, not guiding her or demanding anything of her, just holding on to her as if to make sure she did not become dislodged.

  This wasn’t to say that he didn’t thrust upwards in an effort to increase his own pleasure. But she could deny him, if she wanted to, rising up along with his thrust until only the head of his manhood was still inside her. She decided when she would slide back down and impale herself, and every time she did so, he gasped.

  Her need spiraled higher and higher. Finally she gave up playing games to torment him and started rocking rhythmically, her loose auburn locks dancing upon her shoulders until she reached a gasping, soul-wrenching climax. She didn’t care in the slightest whether it was vaginal or clitoral stimulation that caused it. She rode out the waves of ecstasy still rocking on his shaft and, when it was over, collapsed across his body.

  Gregory stroked her hair and said nothing.

  For many long and lov
ely seconds, Elspeth lay there limply, recovering her breath and reveling in the sensation of her breasts squashed against his chest. Then she felt him thrusting into her—gently, as if he didn’t want to disturb her but couldn’t help himself. Oh yes. He had not had his fill yet. How selfish of her to lollygag while he remained in need.

  Gregory made a gasping, mournful sound when she slid off him. Elspeth perched on the edge of his bed and unbuckled the strap confining him. He was still very hard, glistening with her fluids. She considered him for a moment, then leaned down and took him into her mouth.

  His entire body jerked in surprise. “I thought … you said … you would not …”

  She lifted her head to correct him. “I said I would not do it to Mr. Brown.” In truth, she’d been thinking about doing it to Gregory ever since she’d seen Daisy demonstrate the procedure.

  Licking first. Elspeth worked on that, running her tongue up his length, around the ridge just below his head, then over the head itself. At first, all she could taste was her own fluids, slightly salty. But once that was cleared away, there was the taste and feel of soft skin stretched over his rigid member.

  Next came the part Daisy had called “popping it in and out.” Using her lips, Elspeth mimicked what she’d so recently done to him with her womanhood, sliding him into her mouth as far as was comfortable, then out again. She lingered over the flared ridge of his head, caressing it with her lips, teasing it. If she had any doubt she was doing it correctly, that was swept away by his moaning and quickening breath.

  To Elspeth’s surprise, she enjoyed it too. Even after just having had an orgasm, she felt the tingle of arousal in her womanhood. She tried sucking, but that wasn’t as rewarding to her as mouthing his head, so she returned to that.

  The last thing took practice, Daisy had warned. Well, there was no time like the present to start. Elspeth took in more of his penis than she had before, until it started to enter her throat. When she felt her gag reflex activate, she pulled him out immediately. She still gagged a little, but then went right back to licking him.