Clockworks and Corsets

by Regina Riley

  While the man was a devil in the bedroom, he was pure hell in the business world. A shrewd mind and easy morals helped him to become one of the most powerful men in the country. He was wealthy, handsome, and more while in his prime.

  The man that waited for Ruby was a mere ghost of his former glory. Ruby supposed a near death experience could do that to a man. Well, that and a spinal cord injury that had robbed him of nearly everything below the waist. After his accident, Mr. Black had found his life forever altered.

  Rejected by his peers, spurned by friends and lost in a cloud of self doubt, a man like him seemed useless to the rest of the world, but Ruby recognized his potential. Where others saw weakness, she saw opportunity. Others saw a scarred and ugly man bound to a wheelchair, waiting for his time to die. Ruby saw a powder keg of anger, anxious for a spark to light it.

  Of course, Mr. Black was just a moniker chosen by the man himself. Ruby knew better than to even imagine his real name, lest she slip and call him so. Such a transgression could be the undoing of her carefully woven plans. Her strategy pivoted on the usefulness of Mr. Black, on his knowledge and proclivity. Not to mention his identity. Like a guarded hand of cards, Ruby held his name close to her, waiting for the right time to use it.

  Sliding the door closed behind her, she paused for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the low light of the room, although she could have navigated the place in the pitch dark, she knew it so well. The single chair parked beside Mr. Black, the glass partition that separated this room from the one beyond, the brass tube that ran between the rooms, the thin braided rope that hung in one corner, all were installed by her design. Normally it served as a theater for one, for exclusive private shows.

  Ruby took the empty seat, saying, “Mr. Black.”

  Mr. Black didn’t look at her. “Ruby.”

  “Any news?”

  “My men say her crew reached the island a few hours ago.”

  “And the weapon?” Ruby cursed herself for seeming so eager, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. The idea of possessing such a powerful thing made her as giddy as a schoolgirl, and as wet as freshly fucked whore.

  “I won’t know anything until their ship gets in the air again. If all goes well, they should be back within a few days.”

  “With the weapon.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Do you think they’ll run into any trouble?”

  “How should I know?” Mr. Black frowned and tapped his chair while adding, “I’m here.

  Remember?”

  Drawing closer to him, Ruby ran a hand along one metal wheel, tracing the length of the cold, curved metal before she said, “Yes, you are. Would you rather be somewhere else?”

  He snorted. “Out of this damned thing for starters.”

  “Your chair is one of a kind. It gives you the kind of freedom that men in your position would kill for. Speaking of which, was it worth it?”

  Mr. Black shrugged, as if the acts he had committed for her in the past were as common as breathing. “It’s a wheelchair for an invalid. It does what it should.”

  “You should learn to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

  “I’d rather be on my feet.”

  “Most people spend half their life trying to get off their feet.”

  “Most people have a choice.”

  Ruby smirked as she eyed the crippled man. Melancholy was a dangerous enemy, but one she knew how to best. “Of course. And you will too, in time. Everything will come in time.” She slipped her hand lower, to squeeze his stirring cock. “Some things will come sooner than others from the feel of it.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “At least you haven’t lost control of everything.”

  Mr. Black finally turned his scarred face to her, his mouth a thin line of frustration. “Remind me to thank heaven for small favors.”

  “And the big ones,” she said as she squeezed him again. He grew harder by the handful.

  “Besides, if I have my way, if everything happens like it should, then you’ll not only be on your feet, you’ll be better. Stronger.”

  “At what cost?”

  Surprised by the sound of worry in his voice, Ruby asked, “Not having second thoughts, are we?”

  Mr. Black grinned. “About handing you the keys to the world? Not a chance. A woman can’t do much worse than the men in charge now. You’ll just have better tits.”

  Ruby barked a sharp laugh. That was the Mr. Black she knew. “I really do appreciate your help.” She squeezed his cock again.

  Mr. Black snatched her by the wrist, lifting her hand away from his growing desire. “Don’t mistake my loyalty for affection. As long as you keep paying, I’ll keep helping.” He returned his gaze to the glass partition. “Damnation, I’d do half the jobs you want for the fringe benefits alone.”

  “Certainly, but I want you to know that I find your assistance priceless.”

  “And I find your flattery suspicious. I’m not some naïve child you can toy with, Ruby. I know you too well.”

  “Point taken,” Ruby said, pulling herself from his grasp. “Shall we enjoy your fringe benefits?”

  His nod was barely perceptible, almost as if he didn’t want his reward. Yet the man had earned this treat. After all, every dog deserved a bone for a job well done. Ruby leaned toward the glass partition and pulled the velvet rope, at which the curtains parted.

  The room beyond the glass was well lit, revealing a center stage upon which stood a comfortable looking lounge chair, as well as an uncomfortable looking machine. Olivia, one of Ruby’s best girls, sat perched on the edge of the chair, naked with her legs spread wide, waiting for her chance to perform. She toyed with her nipples as she chewed her lower lip, eyeing the mechanical monstrosity parked beside her with desire, not dread. Her bare breasts sat high on her thin frame, her small waist and narrow hips giving the young lady an almost prepubescent figure.

  Yet the red thatch that rested between her legs exposed her adult passion, already glistening with anticipation. Olivia was one of the few girls who enjoyed using the device.

  One hundred pounds of cold, hard steel, the device was a mastermind of pistons, pivots, and pleasure. Powered manually or by steam, thousands of tiny gears throughout the machine moved together with the dual purpose of driving forth a free swinging arm, while also setting it to vibrate at ungodly speeds. The last nine inches of the arm was coated in a thick layer of soft, fleshy material, the origin of which was as much of a secret as the whereabouts of its creator. One might be confounded by the application of such a machine, as if the cock-like shape of the tip didn’t give the whole purpose away with a single glance.

  The majority of the Red House ladies despised the construct, many of them refusing to perform in the theater, and the others willing to do so only when requested by a client. Ruby was a fan of the device herself, having paid many a late night visit to the lower chambers to try her hand at its cold affections, favoring it to contact with another human being. She often wondered how her girls could prefer the grunt and grope sessions of a lust driven man to such a refined purpose that the device possessed. Then again, few women shared Ruby’s tastes. Few men either.

  Mr. Black, however, was an exception to that rule. He had developed a fondness for the machine that nearly rivaled Ruby’s, only in a different application. Where Ruby enjoyed employing the device, Mr. Black found his satisfaction in a non-participatory manner.

  He liked to watch.

  “You may begin,” Ruby said into the tube.

  Olivia moved into position with a wide smile. The girl was eager today, which was good, because from the feel of things so was Mr. Black. The quicker this was done, the sooner Ruby could get back to more important matters at hand. Laying down on the lounge, Olivia straddled the machine’s protruding arm. Once on her back, the girl reached between her legs to grasp the tip of the arm, where she rubbed the faux cock against her puss in slow passes. She h
issed with each slip, rolling her hips against the extension until it was as wet as she was.

  Mr. Black’s cock sprang to attention at the sight. He hissed along with Olivia, matching her grunt for grunt as Ruby squeezed him through his trousers.

  Well lubricated and ready for more, Olivia scooted down the length of the lounge, taking the fleshy tip of the machine deep within her pussy. She moaned as she moved, her groans rattling the brass tube as she slid down the device, allowing the well-endowed shape to invade her. Ruby responded in kind, unbuttoning the man’s slacks to free his growing erection. She wrapped her fingers around it, keeping her fist tight, holding his real sex as Olivia held the fake one.

  What happened next was a feast for the eyes. Olivia stretched one leg forward, toeing a small switch just within her reach. There was a hush of steam at first, followed by the chuff of the machine coming to life. A rhythmic pounding filled the rooms as the gears began their steady turning. Pistons flexed in time to the gears, moving the tip of the arm out of Olivia’s puss, only to plunge it back in again. Olivia cried aloud at the first few thrusts, then braced herself against the lounge, readying herself for what she was sure to know would follow.

  Ruby slipped her closed hand down the length of Mr. Black, from tip to balls, fisting him in strokes that matched the metal lover. All the while his eyes never left the scene before him, nor did he move to assist Ruby in her efforts. Within a few passes, the young woman on the lounge cried out again. She twisted, writhed, and bucked against the machine in a beautiful display of eye-popping pleasure.

  In a throaty whisper, Ruby said, “She’s coming.”

  “I can see that,” Mr. Black said, between gasps.

  The machine thumped in double time, then triple, gaining speed with every thrust into Olivia and out again. Grabbing the edges of the lounge in white-knuckled fists as the machine fucked her with abandon, Olivia rose to eye the glass partition with a wicked grin. She licked her lips, then pursed them in a brief kiss before she turned her attention to another orgasm. In a heated string of obscenities mixed with screams of delight, she praised all the hosts of heaven and hell, saints and sinners alike, even thanking the mysterious maker of the machine for his contribution to her satisfaction. Ruby could not have been prouder of the girl, nor more impressed by the man she’d had put the device together.

  Mr. Black was not as vocal, but nevertheless, he appeared to enjoy the show. His cock stood in proud defiance of his unmoving limbs. Ruby stroked him faster, keeping time with the violation of Olivia, until all too soon, the tell-tale throb of his cock called the game. With nothing more than a single grunt from its owner, the handful of hard flesh erupted in her palm, leaving a sticky trail of passion in its wake.

  “Enough,” Ruby shouted into the tube over the rhythmic pounding of the machine.

  With a grimace, and undoubtedly a great deal of self-control, the girl switched off the device, then fell back onto the lounge in a pool of sweat. She turned to face the window, her wicked grin replaced by a dreamy, satisfied smile. “Would you like to come again? I’ll wait ’til you are ready.”

  Mr. Black shook his head.

  “That will be all,” Ruby said before she pulled the cord, closing the curtains and ending the show.

  The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for the man to come down from his high, to return to his broken body. At length, Mr. Black pulled his kerchief from his jacket, offering it to her. She nodded, taking the fabric to clean her fingers off, before she turned her attention to him.

  As she wiped his cock clean, a thin smile worked its way to her lips. In her willingness to keep him satisfied, Ruby would have licked him to another orgasm. All he had to do was ask.

  Her smile spread wider as she reminded herself to thank heaven for small favors.

  Chapter 9

  Atom Lends a Hand

  In which we plan our escape and our young lovers worry over nothing.

  “This is amazing,” Jayne cooed. “Simply amazing.” She held Atom by the wrist, turning his hand over again.

  Was it a hand? Could one call it such a thing just because it looked the part?

  Rose would never have guessed that Atom’s entire right arm was clockwork. Tiny levers and gears made up his delicate fingers, whereas larger pistons and cogs formed the forearm, elbow, and upper arm. The works merged into his shoulder where a thin red scar marked the end of the metal and the beginning of the man. Jayne fingered the contraption in awe. Atom bore her attention with good humor. Gabriella, however, sat in the opposite corner of the cage, eyes wide, looking confounded. Rose wasn’t sure what had the girl flustered, the fact that her potential suitor had a mechanical arm or the sight of Atom’s naked, muscular chest that glistened in the glow of firelight.

  “I mean, I’ve seen it before,” Jayne said. “Never in such perfect execution. This is just...just...”

  “Amazing?” asked the newly risen Jax.

  “Yes,” Jayne said. “It is. You cannot fathom how beautiful this piece of work is. It’s like fine art. Living art.”

  Jayne’s voice had a nuance of appreciation in it that made Rose worry. Before, Atom was just another genius to compete with. Now he was a piece of work. Gabriella was going to have some competition if she wasn’t careful.

  “My husband’s commanding officer had a clockwork leg,” Magpie said.

  Jayne shot Magpie a nasty look over her shoulder.

  “He did,” Magpie insisted. “Except it weren’t nothing like that. No sir. It wasn’t that fancy for starts. It had a terrible creak when he walked about too. The boys used to get away with all sorts of things because of that creak. He couldn’t sneak up on ’em, you see? You could hear the man a mile away for all the creaking and ticking.”

  “What makes it a weapon?” Rose asked.

  Jayne gave a sharp huff. “Captain, his strength in this arm alone must be at least that of ten men.”

  “Yes, but what good is that against an entire island of enemies?” Rose asked.

  “Could put the fear of God into ’em,” Magpie suggested.

  “Yah,” Jax said with a snort. “Maybe he waves it and they all go running.”

  “It kind of scares me,” Click said.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” Atom said, a little louder than the chattering crew. They went silent.

  “It’s a weapon because it can do this.”

  The man pulled his metal thumb backward until it lay parallel to his arm at a bone achingly uncomfortable angle. A loud click sounded when his thumb disappeared into his forearm. Atom twisted his remaining fingers together until they merged into one metal mass. Like the pieces of a Chinese puzzle box, he flipped, slid, and slipped his forearm and hand against one another. Soon all he had from the elbow down was a hollow metal tube.

  “What is it?” Magpie asked.

  “A cannon,” Jax offered.

  Atom nodded. “Of sorts.”

  “Simply amazing,” Jayne said. Her eyes lit with an affection that Rose had never seen on the tinker before. Jayne began once again to pat and paw at Atom’s arm, sidling ever closer to him.

  The young man looked away, letting the cogsmith have her fill of the new toy.

  Rose worried that if they did manage to escape this certain doom, there would be a triangle of trouble aboard her vessel. Yet Atom’s face told her otherwise. He gazed at Gabriella with mix of affection, desperation, and anxiety. Most of all he looked troubled. As if revealing his strange abilities to her had rent him to his very soul. Gabriella eyed his arm with a curious interest. When she looked up to see Atom’s terror stricken face, her bemused grin slipped into a warm smile.

  “I think it’s absolutely wonderful,” the young girl gushed.

  Atom’s demeanor changed. He relaxed, clearly relived that she’d approved, then stood a little taller, as if proud of her acceptance.

  “What kind of ammunition does it use?” Jax asked.

  “Good question,” Jayne said in that condescending tone
she reserved for her own lengthy explanations.

  Jax grunted.

  “It doesn’t,” Atom said. “It operates using Faraday’s electromagnetism work. It’s basically a reverse of his homopolar motor.”

  Jayne snorted. “Reversing a homopolar motor would just push the components themselves apart.”

  Atom smiled. He held out his arm, pointing to various sections to illustrate his explanation.

  “Not with a welded set of voltaic piles on each end. They allocate the magnetic fields into these sections and direct the diamagnetism across a controllable level here.”

  “That’s impossible,” Jayne said. She stared at his arm. “Even Faraday couldn’t control the effects on such a direct scale.”

  “He didn’t have Doctor Loquacious either,” Atom corrected her.

  Jayne looked back up at Atom before she grinned again.

  “Excuse me?” Rose asked.

  The pair looked at her.

  “Can you translate that for the rest of us?” Rose asked.

  “My apologies,” Atom said.

  “It’s a magnetic cannon,” Jayne said.

  “It sends out a controlled burst of vibrations,” Atom said, “that act to undermine the magnetic structures of the intended target.”

  Rose shook her head while the words flew past her mind. She was never much for higher learning, always satisfied to have the technical minded Jayne run the ship as she saw fit. The mathematical genius of Gabriella was enough to make her feel dimmer than normal. Now with the addition of the brainy Atom, she supposed she would have to learn a few things just to keep up.

  Atom seemed to sense her confusion. “Essentially, it emits low frequency magnetic pulses that can shake things apart.”

  “You say controlled,” Jayne said. “How controlled?”

  Atom chewed his lower lip while he looked around the cage. Thankfully, the natives were so cocksure of the fact that Rose and her crew were going nowhere that they had left the cage unguarded. Atom tipped his head toward the bars that held them. His eyes narrowed. Rose gazed at him, if she didn’t know better, she’d swear he could see something just outside the cage. No sooner did she have the thought than he spoke.