The Stables: Elinor's induction 2

Dr Elinor Vayne was the Stables' pretty house psychotherapist, whose job was to break confused young men into feminised whores. After an indiscretion with a client, Helen, the proprietress, put her through the Ritual and demoted her. Helen assumes Elinor will stay on as an unpaid whore. Elinor plans to leave. Her first client is a recently widowed man named Gerald. She has just given him an impromptu grief counselling session, but she knows Helen expects her to fuck him too. Elinor is a lesbian. This episode follows "The Stables: Elinor's Induction", which closed with her somehow saying "Yes".

***

Elinor was afraid her nerve would fail, but it was too late to change course now. So she did what she always did. She took charge.

She'd always been the dominant partner in sex. Back when it had only been with women. Younger women. She pushed the thought away. Not useful. And pushed away the memory of being fucked by Clover's client. And by all the girls during the Ritual. Things to process in due course.

Gerald was looking cheerful. Flushed. Elinor flashed him a smile. She took his hand, then kissed him on the cheek. She felt the unfamiliar sensation of stubble. Well, unfamiliar on the face at least. She couldn't tell what she felt about that.

"Let's go upstairs," she said, and led him to the door.

She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Turned to him. She looked him in the eye. Elinor could tell he was happy to be led. She was familiar with that look at least.

"Are you staying the night?" she asked. She saw uncertainty in his eyes.

"You're staying the night," she told him firmly. On tiptoes, she kissed him on the lips. Very briefly, not giving Gerald time to react. She could tell, he was going to stay. She checked her own feelings. Kissing felt fine so far. His hand found her hip. She flashed her eyebrows at him and turned the doorknob.

Elinor had been irrationally afraid Helen would be standing there. Instead, Nina stood a respectful distance from the door, heels together, hands crossed in front of her. She wore her black silk maid's uniform, her eyes heavily made up over the panel gag she always wore, locked with a small silver padlock. Nina was still a mystery to Elinor. She remained fascinated by her poise.

Elinor noticed Gerald look at Nina. She put a hand gently to his cheek, turning his face to her. She winked at him. Just being professional she told herself.

Helen had told her to take the client to the Blue Room. The room where she'd lost control, disgraced herself, been demoted from psychotherapist to whore. She knew perfectly well why Helen had assigned that room.

"I'm taking Gerald to the Secret Room," she said. She had visited the Secret Room alone more than once. In the eaves of the roof, it had infected her with its period romanticism. She could stand there and let her imagination run free.

She assumed it was available. Nina gave a small nod. Elinor saw something in Nina's gaze. It might have been respect.

"Good," Elinor said. "Gerald will be staying the night. No extra charge." She squeezed Gerald's hand. Nina nodded. No doubt Nina would let Helen know.

Gerald began, "I can..." before Elinor silenced him.

"Shush and do what you're told," she said, to her own surprise. To keep the momentum, she asked, "What were you drinking?"

After a pause that might have been an internal tussle, he said, "Tom Collins." She detected his hint of pride at being able to name a specific cocktail. She smiled at him, feeling a sudden surge of affection. No way he could afford her. She found herself resisting the temptation to press herself against him, and frowned. He noticed the frown and she flushed. Fuck, this was hard work.

"A jug of Tom Collins and two glasses please Nina," she said, and led Gerald to the stairs. Suddenly she remembered what Helen had dressed her in, the sluttish short lilac jacket that barely covered her breasts, the microskirt that almost covered her panties. Gerald had tried so hard to keep his gaze on her face. He deserved a show.

She let go of his hand and started up the stairs alone, adding a slightly exaggerated swing to her hips. She smiled to herself, then glanced back, hand on the bannister. He was looking up at her. He grinned.

"Wait till he sees my tits," she thought happily. Then wondered at herself.

The Secret Room was at the end of a low corridor. By the time they had reached the door, Gerald's arm was around her waist and she was leaning in to him. She turned the blackened metal handle and had to give the old wooden door a firm shove. It was dark inside. She slipped out of his embrace and turned on the two standard lamps. They revealed a room from a previous century.

A large double bed, a cast-iron frame with an upholstered headboard, a sash window behind it. In front was an Edwardian style sofa facing a wood stove, already stocked with wood and kindling. Elinor waved Gerald to the sofa, drew the curtains. She squatted to light the kindling, conscious of her strappy shoes and short skirt.

She had left the door open for Nina to bring the drinks. She sat next to Gerald feeling the cool fabric of the sofa press against panties and bare skin. She was suddenly nervous.

"I've never been alone with a man before," she said. Strictly true, though it massively skipped details of the last few days. Then she saw his reaction and realised it was the wrong thing to say.

As he opened his mouth, she put her finger against his lips. "Don't say anything silly," she said. "Tonight you're mine." Then began to wonder what the fuck she was doing. She had thought she was playing a role. God, she needed that drink now.

Nina arrived very shortly. She looked to Elinor, barely sparing a glance to the client. The wood stove was starting to glow as Nina knelt by the coffee table and poured their drinks. Elinor's gaze slid up Nina's stockings to the slim line of exposed thigh below her skirt. Then suddenly she remembered Gerald. She looked to him, similarly, entranced by the pretty maid. Gently Elinor turned his cheek towards her again so their eyes met. He looked a little sheepish. She flashed him a complicit smile and he grinned back in relief. Without thinking she leaned in and kissed him.

When Nina handed him his drink Elinor didn't let Gerald look at Nina. She moved his hand in the right direction while fixing his gaze. He grasped the glass. She held his gaze until they heard the door close with finality behind the pretty maid.

"Good boy," she said to him.

*

"I'm not a boy anymore," he smiled at her, "Doctor...?"

"Vayne," she supplied. He smiled, and didn't make the obvious joke.

She smiled too, vaguely, and raised her glass. He was right. He wasn't a boy. She gulped down half of her drink and grimaced -- Nina had been generous with the gin.

He didn't notice. He clinked his glass to hers and took an appreciative sip.

Elinor looked at the floor, gripping her glass in both hands. Then let Gerald lightly take it from her. He put both glasses on the coffee table.

"We have all night, after all," he said. "Let's take things slowly."

Slowly. Yes, she wanted slowly. She didn't know what to do with her hands. She let them rest in her lap, on her naked thighs. She knew her shoulders were tense. She still looked at the floor.

He leaned in for a kiss. She had allowed herself to kiss him. She knew she had to let him kiss her. Should she tell him she only liked girls?

Avoiding his lean-in, she let her head loll back on the sofa. She looked at the ceiling.

He paused and looked at her for a moment. Long enough for her to realise her neck, smooth and pretty, was exposed. Then felt him kiss it.

God that felt good. Fuck.

Her heart was racing. His hand slipped inside her jacket, its roughness sliding over her smooth skin, finding her nipple already erect. She felt the fabric slip aside. His stubble brushed her neck as he kissed it again. She could smell his cologne.

She pushed herself back with her hands, not knowing what she was going to do.

She took his wrist, slid his hand out of her jacket. She looked at him. At some point he had taken his jacket off. His brown eyes looked at her -- she saw curiosity, desire, concern. Memories of their session downstairs -- it seemed like a hundred years ago -- flickered in her mind's eye. Her hand sought his other wrist, holding them fast. He could overpower her in a moment. Briefly she wanted him to.

She remembered Helen's teasing words, as she was slipping her panties on before the session. "Clients like to take them off". Then she realised that she had already moved Gerald's hands inside her skirt. His rough palms rested lightly on her thighs.

He looked down as she released his wrists, then looked back at her. She looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open. She didn't move. Then she let out a gasp and let her head fall back as her panties slid away.

*

Elinor woke. She didn't know where she was at first. Dim curtains showed it wasn't yet dawn. Her head lay on someone's warm chest. She felt the rhythmic rise of muscle beneath her cheek. Breathing, matching her own. Gerald. She drifted off to sleep again.

*

When Elinor woke again it was dawn. She could hear rain patter against the window. The wood stove had burned out hours ago. The duvet was warm. His arm was round her, his hand resting lightly on her hip. She listened to his breathing.

Last night was one more thing to process. She had let him use her body. No, she had cooperated. Clung on, moved with him. Enjoyed the touch. He had had such a good time. She smiled.

The coming day ... an empty fear lodged in the pit of her stomach. Her abdomen felt loose. She craved comfort.

She reached for his cock.