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Dr. Gregory’s Infernal Machine

Serena Jones

Copyright 2017 by 1217 Partners Publishing

Smashwords Edition

Miss Elspeth Fortescue had been brought up in the ways of science. She was not a fainting flower, accustomed to being pressed between the pages of a book and flattened out to something two-dimensional. Elspeth had been taught by her father, a skilled if somewhat impoverished scientist, and she could hold her own in the laboratory against any male assistant. In preparation for her employment interview, she had tied her auburn locks away from her face so they would not be caught in any gears. She had dressed in sensible skirts without too many petticoats and close-fitting sleeves that would not catch fire when she leaned over Bunsen burners.

And she was the prettiest thing Ivan Gregory had ever seen, with a waist tightly cinched by a demanding corset and a bosom that swelled against her bodice in a most distracting manner.

He hired her on the spot.

Elspeth was stunned by the sight of his laboratory. Her lips parted in surprise as she surveyed the vast machinery—an array of cogs and pumps and electric coils that sizzled and flashed. “What are my duties?” she asked, looking around with wide eyes.

“The first thing I’d like you to do, Miss Fortescue,” said Gregory, “is stand upon this platform and monitor these switches. If the circuits trip, you merely need to flip them back on.”

“Is that all?” she asked with some disappointment. “I’ve been trained for tasks a lot more complicated.”

“You must prove yourself with this task first.”

“Very well,” she said, climbing onto the platform as directed. There was a railing for her to stand against, and the switches were just above her head.

Gregory started to walk away, then turned back, his curiosity roused. “That is a striking pendant you wear, Miss Fortescue. Very unusual.”

She smiled like a child praised for a simple bauble. Pinching the chain between her thumb and forefinger, she leaned over the edge of the platform to give her employer a closer look. Gregory made a point to focus his gaze on the pendant instead of the backdrop her creamy bosom provided.

It was comprised of a glass globe about one and a quarter inches in diameter. Inside there was a working clock. The curved surface of the globe acted as a magnifying glass so that the time could be easily read despite the miniature nature of the dial. Most men wore pocket watches to keep track of the time, but Gregory had never before seen a woman wear one as an ornament.

“My dearly departed father made this for me,” she said. “He said that I should always be mindful of time, thinking forward to the future and remembering how the past informs our present, as well as—” Elspeth paused, holding up the index finger of her other hand, and rotated the pendant. On the reverse side, the globe magnified the gears and inner workings of the clock. “—understanding how everything works,” she finished.

Gregory bowed his head in acknowledgment of her father’s wit and wisdom. “An excellent sentiment.” He then retired to another part of the laboratory, and Elspeth stood on the platform as directed, watching the switches. Every minute or so, one of them would trip, and she stretched up and flipped it back into place.

Ivan Gregory watched her from a hidden vantage point. He was causing the switches to trip himself, with a flick of his finger on the controlling mechanism. Each time Elspeth reached up to correct the problem, he admired her figure … the tiny waist, the breasts which swelled above the confines of her corset, the strain of the blouse which contained her lovely feminine features. After a time, he noticed how she leaned against the railing, and how a glazed look came over her eyes.

The platform vibrated, thanks to a device of Gregory’s own design, and the longer she stood there, the more Elspeth was affected by the vibrations. Gregory had taken pains to calculate the precise speed and vacillation to engender a desired reaction in female physiology, and based on his observations, his efforts had been successful. Her pink lips parted, and her cheeks grew red. Gregory flicked a switch and watched her reach again to correct the problem. This time, she leaned a little more into the railing than she needed to, resting the bottom half of her torso against the vibrating bar for several seconds, her eyes closed.

Gregory smiled. Things were proceeding according to plan.


Three days passed, and each day Elspeth climbed more eagerly onto the platform. She appeared to be completely absorbed in her task each day, so much so that Gregory noticed a distant and flustered air whenever he asked her a question.

On the fourth day, he judged from her flushed cheeks and the way her tongue flicked over her plump lips that she was ready.

“Miss Fortescue,” he called. “Would you come down here? I have a new task for you to perform.”

“Yes, Dr. Gregory.”She met him at the other end of the laboratory where he stood before a new machine of a very interesting design.

“Stand right here, please,” he said, positioning her so that she faced him and her back was to the machine. “I want you to put on these bracelets.”

She pursed her lips at the sight of them, for they looked like wide metallic cuffs, but she held out her wrists obediently and let Gregory snap them on. “What do they do?” she asked.

“This,” he said, flipping a switch.

Instantly, Elspeth’s arms were yanked up and over her head. She gasped as a magnetic force pulled her backwards, so that she found herself pressed against the machine with her wrists clamped tight against it. “Oh!” she cried. “Help me!” She wriggled her hands, but the bracelets were too narrow for her to slip free and the magnetic field too strong for her to pull loose.

Gregory stepped forward and put his hands around her tiny waist. At first she thought he was going to pull her away from the machine. But his hands rested appreciatively on her hips without making an effort to assist her, and then they slid upwards, along her torso. “Dr. Gregory!” she gasped.

“Miss Fortescue, you are going to help me with a very important experiment.”

“But I—”

“Don’t be frightened,” he said calmly. “I would not hurt you for all the world. But I have observed you closely over the last few days, and I am certain you are perfect for this experiment.”

Elspeth observed with some alarm that the scientist’s hands now cupped her breasts. “What are you doing? Why do you think—?”

“Because of the way you react to this.” A flick of another switch, and the machine began to vibrate. She gasped, feeling the seductive vibrations through her buttocks, which were pressed mercilessly against the device. “You find some enjoyment in this, do you, Miss Fortescue?”

“No!” She denied it, shaking her head.

But his hands were already undoing the buttons of her bodice, pushing the fabric aside to reveal her snow white corset and the creamy mounds of her breasts. She protested wordlessly, tears leaking from her big, blue eyes.

“You did tell me you were capable of more complicated tasks, Miss Fortescue,” Gregory said in a kindly manner. “And I believe you. I think that you are probably capable of quite complex activities, if you would allow yourself to try them.”

His eyes passed over her open bodice with approval, and then he turned a knob on his infernal machine. Elspeth felt it rotate, shifting her arms even higher and bending her body backward. She stretched onto her toes to accommodate the new position, but even so, the corset could not contain her. Her breasts slipped free of their confinement, her nipples now visible. She wriggled in embarrassment, but this only ground her buttocks against the vibrating machine—and mortifyingly, her nipples began to harden.

Her globe pendant slid to the side and dangled off her shoulder. Gregory cupped it in his hand. “Your father was a wise man, Miss Fortescue. I believe he would have understood my life’s work, which is to study the nature of sexual arousal and climax. Sexually satisfied adults make better husbands, wives, parents, and workers. Unfortunately, there are thousands of men who cannot properly perform the act of copulation, and even more thousands of women who cannot enjoy it. My goal is to collect data on the process of sexual arousal and how it progresses to orgasm. Perhaps, in the future, men and women can be taught to control their own pleasure, but in order for that to happen—” He rotated the globe to look at the gears. “—we must understand the workings of it.”

“A worthy cause I am sure,” Elspeth agreed breathlessly. “But while my father might have approved of your approach in theory, I’m certain he would think my involvement in such a study highly inappropriate.” Even as she said this, however, her chest heaved most becomingly. Her dusky pink nipples contracted into upright peaks, pointing at the ceiling of the lab.

“How do you feel about the matter?” Gregory tucked the pendant back between her breasts and rubbed his fingers over her nipples, causing her to gasp out loud.

“Dr. Gregory, please release me!” she begged.

“I will release you,” he promised, “in ways you can’t imagine. Tell me the truth, Miss Fortescue, does this give you pleasure?” Leaning forward, he placed his mouth over one of her nipples and began to suck it, gently but persistently.

“Please.” Elspeth’s body shuddered and shook. “I want you to stop and—and—and …”

Gregory raised his head in alarm. Had he misjudged her? “Stop and—?”

A single tear ran down her cheek. “Stop and do the same to the other one,” she whispered.

He sighed in relief. “Of course.” Drawing the other nipple into his mouth, he pressed his tongue against its rough underside, sucking on it rhythmically.

Elspeth moaned, giving way to the sensation. For several delightful seconds, no coherent thought passed through her mind. But then he stepped away from her, and she was left with her breasts heaving, her nipples swollen … and every part of her unsatisfied.

“Miss Fortescue,” said Gregory, “it’s time for you to tell me whether you are willing to continue. From this point on, there is no going back. I believe you are the ideal lab assistant for me, but if you wish to go no further, I will end the experiment here.”

He asked her this now? While her body throbbed and ached? “I need to go on,” she whispered.

Gregory wasted no time. Quickly, he began to wind cranks and push levers, opening out a framework from his machine. He guided his assistant into this framework, helping her shift each of her legs into the supports. Now she was lifted entirely into the air, her arms still pinned above her head, her back stretched over the barrel of the machine, and her legs splayed outward. “I will have to push your skirts back,” Gregory warned her. Elspeth nodded. She knew.

Gregory lifted her skirts, his hands running along her stocking-clad legs. Skirt, underskirt and petticoats all fell back, bunched against her hips. Her white, virginal stockings rose to just above the knees, and then there was an expanse of unblemished, soft thighs leading to …

When he saw her bare womanhood, framed in curly hair, Gregory’s penis grew harder within his trousers. Her lips—these lips—were as plump and swollen as the ones of her mouth, parted slightly and glistening with wetness. It was all he could do not to yank down his trousers and plunge his erect member directly into her. But this was for science.

Shaking his head to focus his attention, he cranked out the lever which brought forth the most important part of the machine. It rose on a long metal arm, hinges working to turn it so that it hovered directly above his assistant.

Elspeth’s eyes widened at the sight. Although she had never seen a male organ, she knew what this was. Made of gleaming glass with a tip that flared into a rounded head, it caused a surge of pounding blood throughout her body, and a flood of hot moisture between her legs. Still, she raised her head and looked at Dr. Gregory. “I thought you—”

He gave her a wounded look. “Did you think I hired you just to ravish you? I am a scientist, Miss Fortescue!”

Her bottom lip jutted out, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “You don’t want me?”

Even as obsessed a scientist as Gregory could not be cold enough to hurt this lovely woman’s feelings. He wrenched open the front of his trousers to expose his erect penis. “Of course, I want you.”

It was not quite as long as the glass one poised above her, but it was hard and thick, curving upwards as if straining for her. The head of his penis swelled visibly, and clear liquid began to well at its tip. “I have a part to play in this,” he said, “but you must trust me.”

Elspeth nodded, laying her head back against the machine, which still vibrated beneath her. She ached between her legs, and her nipples longed to be stroked. She would not question him again, but see this experiment through to the end.

There was a platform for Gregory to stand upon in front of her. He mounted it and dropped his trousers entirely. The glass penis was capped at its far end with a cork, which he now worked free. A warm gel leaked out of the hollow interior, and with a sigh, Gregory slid his penis inside. It had been made for him and fitted perfectly. Gel squished out as his swollen member displaced it, and for a moment his eyes rolled back into his head at the sensation of warmth and wetness and confinement.

He strapped himself in, for it was essential that he and the machine become one. He did not relish an injury of the sort which might be inflicted otherwise. It was even necessary to insert a second, smaller glass penis into his own anus, so that he would be propelled from behind as well as drawn from the front. The insertion was in itself pleasurable, and a moan escaped his lips.

In front of him, Elspeth squirmed. Poor thing, she was so wet, her lubrication ran down between her bottom cheeks. He needed to start the experiment before he tortured the girl any further. A push of the lever, and the glass penis—with his own contained inside it—eased forward until the head just touched the opening of her womanhood.

She gasped, her fingers opening wide above the magnetic cuffs. With gentle pressure, Gregory pushed the glass head inward. Her liquids ran over the surface, and then, with a quick thrust, he penetrated her just far enough to breach her maidenhood.

A small amount of blood ran over the glass, diluted to pink by her own juices, and she squeaked in alarm. But she was far too aroused to complain and instead strained against her restraints, trying to take in more of the cylinder which impaled her. He watched her swollen lips slide over the glass penis, and if he’d been in control he would have plunged himself completely into her.

But Gregory was not in control now; his creation was. The machine yanked him backward, away from her until the tip of the penis was barely touching the entrance to her womanhood. She moaned, wriggling. Her vaginal lips contracted; he could actually see them throbbing with desire and frustration. Then with a shuddering jerk, the machine drove forward. Gregory scrabbled for the controls, worried the penis was too big, that it would hurt her. But it was as if the machine had a mind of its own. The inventor found himself dragged away from the controls, and Elspeth gasped as the glass penis penetrated her to the hilt.

Drawn along with it, Gregory hung over his assistant for a moment. Her eyes gazed up at him, and he stared back into their blue depths; then the machine bore him backward. Neither one of them was in control. The machine fucked them both. Elspeth lay splayed out for its mercy, bound to the machine by Gregory—and even if he’d wanted to stop it, he was unable to, locked in place by his own hand.

His pulse pounded. The glass penis inside his anus drove itself deeper as he fucked the luscious Miss Fortescue without ever touching her. Her breasts heaved, her nipples contracted into hard kernels that seemed to yearn for stimulation. He reached for them, managing to brush his fingers against them before the machine carried him away. The warm gel churned around his organ, agitated by the movement, and his thoughts blurred into a smear of pleasure and urgency. His balls hardened and twitched, and suddenly the young woman screamed beneath him.

She bucked against her restraints, jerking her magnetic cuffs free from the machine for an instant—although they slammed back into place immediately. She convulsed, gasping, her nipples taut and her breasts flushed. Recognizing the sight of a woman in violent orgasm, Gregory plunged over the edge himself, crying out as waves of ecstasy overcame him. His organ pumped thick semen into the glass penis—on and on, longer than he thought humanly possible.

Somehow, the machine knew they were done. The terrible vibrations subsided, and the great glass organ slid out of Elspeth’s vagina, which contracted weakly in reaction.

Gregory hung over his assistant, who lay limp in her restraints, her eyes closed. “Miss Fortescue!” he cried, alarmed by her pale complexion. “Miss Fortescue, are you injured?”

Elspeth’s eyelids fluttered. “Was the experiment a success, Dr. Gregory?”

“Yes, I think it was.”

“How do you know?”

Gregory didn’t know what to say. He’d been drained dry and was so disoriented by the ravages of pleasure, he wasn’t sure he could release himself from his bonds. “Miss Fortescue, I think—”

Elspeth interrupted him. “My father always said an experiment must be repeated—many times—to prove its success.”

Their eyes met. The machine held them apart, but their understanding traversed the distance. “Yes,” Gregory agreed. “You are right. It will have to be repeated.”

A flush rose to her cheeks. “Today?”

He nearly choked. “I think not today, Miss Fortescue. Tomorrow will be soon enough, don’t you agree?”

Elspeth sighed and, closing her eyes, lay back into Gregory’s infernal machine.

Tomorrow she would again do her part for scientific advancement.

Other Works by Serena Jones

Dr. Gregory’s Wanton Assistant

Dr. Gregory’s Seduction

Games with Strangers

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.

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