Carnal Machines

by D. L. King

  Cassie slipped her tongue into his mouth and flicked it back and forth in unison with his pumping hips.

  Marcus felt Cassie groping around on the couch beside her body, and he pulled back, curious. She grinned wickedly up at him a second before the rolling balls crawled over the base of his organ. Ecstasy gripped him and a shudder wracked his frame.

  From where he stood, he could see that she held the clockwork cock across her clit. Each time he eased out of her, his cock brushed against the implement.

  Gripped by a dichotomy of sensations—the hot wet heat of her and the unrelenting movement of the beads rolling over his excited cock—Marcus released an animalistic howl. He lost all restraint and drove in and out of Cassie’s welcoming channel with abandon, until he released his seed inside her.

  “We must look like a sad pair, me trussed up like a capon and you bare-arsed, with your trousers around your ankles.” She laughed, cupped his face and kissed his lips.

  Marcus eased out of her and wound the crank to lower her legs. He unstrapped her lower limbs and rubbed them.

  “Will you come back to me?” He looked away, fearing a rejection.

  “Well, now, that all depends,” Cassie purred.

  His head jerked up. “On what?” His heart pounded.

  “On the other toys you plan to make.” A sensual smile parted her lips.

  Marcus grinned in response to her smirk. “Then you’re back for good because I have an idea for a steam-powered…”

  MUTINY ON THE DANIKA BLUE

  Poe Von Page

  As far as uprisings go, the mutiny on the Danika Blue had to be the fastest on record. Before the captain could even complete his morning shite, drawn swords and weighty threats had subdued the commanding crew, forced the first officer down the refuse shaft and given way to a cacophony of brutish cries as the ship’s appointed command stood down. Some credited the sheer number of mutineers and the swiftness with which they acted. Others blamed the sight of the captain’s hands as they rose from the murky water bucket, trembling and ashen against the backdrop of deep space. If ever asked, though, Ailbhe would claim the mutiny was cinched upon sight of the nameless fellow who met the unfortunate and gruesome fate of explosive decompression, an effective act of persuasion, to be sure.

  Ailbhe watched from her drawing table as Jael pushed past bemused crewmen toward the helm. His sky-blue coat brushed their knees as he moved and turning to address them, he gave each of his gloves a firm yank at the wrists. Full dress for a mutiny: only Jael would be so grandiose.

  “Crewmen,” he said, eyes scanning the deck for any signs of dissent, “I am the new and rightful captain of the Danika Blue. If you will not accept my authority it would be wise of you to step forward now. I have exhausted my cache of merciful acts and those who refuse to follow orders will be dealt with swiftly and without pity.”

  The deck creaked beneath the doddering feat of terrified men. Circling them all was Ziv, Jael’s first in command and most trusted friend. Eyes narrowed and both daggers drawn, Ziv with his long black hair and sharp features looked like an animal on the prowl. He penetrated every gaze he could catch, professing without words his ferocious allegiance to Jael.

  As Ziv circulated unspoken promises of reprisal, Ailbhe scanned the men trying to sense who among them might be inclined to skirmish with the ship’s new regime. When she detected nothing she looked up at the captain to find him staring back at her, waiting for a signal. She nodded her approval and he let go a deep breath, placing his hands for the first time on the curves of the massive wooden helm of his new ship.

  All fell silent as they watched the Danika Blue receive her new flag. As it was hoisted high over her creaking wooden body, a solar wind grabbed hold of it, revealing a single blue star over a background of black. A roiling wave of howls and whistles erupted from the crewmen as they acknowledged the Danika Blue now belonged to Captain Jael.

  As the new captain conveyed his orders to Ziv, Ailbhe returned her attention to the vast space around them. She unfurled her sensors over the taffrail, past the barrier created by the atmosphere generator and deep into the cold black surrounding them. Quickly, her hands moved over the parchment laid out in front of her, dotting and smearing her coal as she mapped the spirit of the space they moved through. Her attention, projected far beyond the confines of the deck of the ship, was all the man behind her needed to begin skulking toward her.

  The smell of whiskey on his breath, hot on the back of her neck, drew her back into herself. Before she could turn to face her attacker, the gleam of Jael’s blade flashed centimeters from her face. As she shifted, slowly following the length of his steel, she caught a brief reflection of herself over the backdrop of space. She turned farther to see the blade pressing a sharp line into the aggressor’s stubbly neck. A stream of sweat mixed with a thin line of blood pooled along its edge. Leering over him, ever present when Jael was in need was Ziv, daggers drawn once again.

  “I…I was just going t-t-to ask the woman for some time, is all,” he said.

  Jael’s steely eyes were fixed on him, unwavering. “With a knife?” He nodded to the small blade in the man’s right hand.

  “The c-c-captain is gone. What’s it m-matter now?”

  Jael’s bottom lip pursed, dimpling his smooth chin. “I am your captain and she is mine. Befoul her again with so much as a glance and I will spill the contents of your belly onto the deck.”

  “We should toss her out with the trash, like we did the other. It’s a slap to fate havin’ a woman on board,” rose another voice from deep within the gathering throng of men.

  “Hear me now, all of you,” Jael said stretching each syllable out. “The cartographer is mine. She is mine to observe, mine to command, and mine to…spend time with.” An undertone of sneers and lurid remarks rose from the men. “If any of you think otherwise, or behave toward her in a manner unacceptable to me, your children’s children will weep telling the tale of your slaughter.”

  Jael, with his sword still pressed against the man’s neck, surveyed his crew. Most of them stood head down, their gaze averted from the captain’s. The rest of them edged away from Ziv, as he looked at each of them as though he might devour them one by one. The only sounds were those made by the Danika Blue as her beams and planks creaked in time with the pulsing hum of the steam-driven atmosphere generator.

  “Good,” Jael said, withdrawing his sword and cleaning the filth left behind with a delicate handkerchief pulled from his breast pocket.

  The men pottered back to their stations as the captain and Ziv bent their heads together for a hushed exchange. Ailbhe knew they were discussing her long before she saw Ziv’s eyes dart in her direction. As Ziv strode back to the helm of the ship, Captain Jael turned his attention to Ailbhe. He slid his sword back into its ornate sheath and, maintaining his gaze, slowly bent at the waist. As he offered an angled arm, he said, “Ms. Ailbhe, join me in captain’s quarters.”

  Ailbhe stared up at him, unmoving.

  “Please,” he said.

  She dropped her coal on the drawing table and threaded her slender forearm inside the crook of his elbow. As they walked across the deck of the ship, she gazed at the contrast of the ebony lace of her gown against the pale blue of his wool coat.

  He closed the door behind them and slid the wooden latch in place, securing it from outsiders. He had waited many long years for this room to be his and, in his mind, he had gone through these motions a thousand times before. Navigating his new quarters as though he had occupied the space since they left port two months ago, he quickly stowed his coat and poured her a glass of honeysuckle mead.

  “Thank you,” she said, wrapping her willowy fingers around the glass and wetting her mouth with the sweet drink. As he watched her, she licked her bottom lip and deftly flipped her burgundy hair off her face. He loved her hair, the way it made her look as though she were constantly in motion, like a shooting star. He loved everything about her.

  “Why do yo
u wear nothing but black?” he said as he poured himself a glass of the same.

  “So the coal does not mark my clothes,” she said without inflection.

  The left side of his mouth curled as he leaned against the cherrywood desk behind him.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve called you to my quarters,” he said as he set his drink down beside him.

  “No.”

  “Surely you must be…”

  “Do not presume to know my thoughts. You are naught but an impudent worm that I should scrape from the bottom of my boot.”

  Jael’s shoulders broadened as his body tensed. “Yes,” he said, voice trembling with the effort of restraint.

  “And as for your pathetic act of bravery on deck, do not think for a moment that I was moved. You and I both know I need no man to protect me.”

  Jael pulled at the thighs of his pants, trying to hide his growing excitement. “Yes, I mean no. I was merely putting on airs f—”

  “Shut your maw, savage. Do you really think I care about anything you have to say?”

  He was thoroughly enamored with her beauty, even as he was unnerved by the stare of her ecru eyes. “No,” he said, barely aware that his hands were steadily stroking his chest.

  “I trust you still have the bung in your arse?”

  Jael’s eyes fluttered and abdomen twitched as his hind orifice clenched around the wooden stopper she placed inside him earlier that day. “Yes.”

  “It served its purpose then?” she said, the faintest hint of a smile creeping across her thin, peacock-colored lips.

  “Every move I made, I thought of you. Every step I took, I felt you inside me. Directing me. Reminding me. Keeping me open, only for you.”

  “We shall see.” With a brisk movement, she set her glass down and rose from her chair. As she stood, so did he.

  “Take down your pants,” she said.

  He unlatched his belt and loosened his waistline, fumbling a bit with nervous anticipation. His pants dropped to the floor exposing him, naked from the waist down but for his shoes and socks.

  “Turn around and place your elbows on the desk,” she said as she moved towards him.

  Stepping out of his pants with one foot, he kicked them aside with the other. He turned his back to her, bending at the waist and doing as he was told.

  “Do not remove your forearms from the desk,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  In one sharp movement she reached her hand round to the front of his face and placed the tips of two of her fingers over the openings of his nose. She yanked up and back, hard, bringing his face parallel to hers. “Have you forgotten, you half-witted ingrate, how to address your master?”

  “No, sir. My apologies, sir.”

  “Pig,” she said as she pulled her fingers back. She eyed them as contempt lined her forehead. “Disgusting. How dare you mark me with your filth? Clean them off,” she said, holding them up to his mouth.

  Not daring to pull his elbows from the desk, he craned his neck around to look her full in the eyes as he thoroughly cleaned her fingers. He licked and sucked them until she felt herself tighten beneath her skirt. She yanked them out of his mouth and brought her hand back only to land a firm slap across his face.

  Spittle flew from his mouth, marking the map splayed out on the desk in front of him and his fingers crumpled the paper beneath them. Licking his stinging lip, he released a slow and tremulous breath.

  She stepped back to survey him from behind, admiring the base of the wooden bung in his arse: lovely.

  Reaching out and using the fingers of one hand, she spread his cheeks wide apart. With the two freshly cleaned fingers of the other hand, she pressed firmly on the plug, plunging it deeper inside him.

  He gasped at the sensation and the hairs on his arms stood. A small groan escaped his mouth as he let his head fall forward.

  Maintaining the pressure on the plug in his arse, she rolled her fingers in concentric circles, relentlessly mining inside him. She released his cheeks with her other hand and slipped it in front of him, cuffing his firmness and delighting in the sound it made as it rebounded against the desk.

  She then grabbed on to his cock and pulled it forward, as she steadily and slowly drew the stopper from behind him. She felt his rear tighten and release as the widest part of it slid out of him, and she dropped it on the floor behind her.

  She let go of him and he whimpered at the loss of her touch. “Please…” he said. “Sir, am I ready?”

  “Do not be so eager, or you will wait another fortnight before I check again,” she said knowing full well he could not see her unhooking her long black skirt from where it attached to her bodice. She had no intention of prolonging their play; his mutiny had brought that to an end. She needed to remind him of his place, prevent any urge to get uppity over his recent victory on ship. It had been a plan devised by her, after all.

  Thick layers of black lace puddled around her feet as she adjusted the leather harness rounding her waist and thighs. She reached down to the pocket sewn onto the inside of her boot and slid out a glass shaft, which she quickly fastened into place at her Venus mound.

  She took two steps toward Jael, regarding the dark hole of his arse and admiring the work the bung had done to open him over the past few days. She rubbed the head of her glass cock up and down the crack of his backside, intentionally avoiding the spot she knew he so longed for her to plumb.

  Again, he whimpered and marveled at Ailbhe’s ability to transmute torture into the sweetest nectar he could ever hope to taste. He longed for her to be inside him. He ached for her deep within his balls.

  When he thought he could stand the teasing no longer, Ailbhe plunged deep inside him, burying her cock up to the harness and pressing her mound against his backside. The shock of it sent his arms straight out, flinging papers, a quill and a small bottle of ink off the desk and onto the floor. The clatter was loud and he was sure it would bring at least one of his men to the door.

  “You like me inside you, don’t you, worm?”

  He struggled to pull his elbows beneath him. “Yes, sir,” he breathed as she withdrew completely from him and pushed back inside him again.

  He grunted and felt himself flush at the feminine tone of his cry.

  “Ahhhhh,” she said, “now you are learning. You just may please me yet.” And with that, she began pumping in and out of his arse in time with the Danika Blue’s rhythmic hum. She went at it slow and steady, feeling each muscle twitch and every slight adjustment he made as he opened himself to her even further.

  Approaching footsteps sounded from outside the locked door and soon after came knocking.

  “Everything all right in there, captain?” Ziv’s voice was unmistakable. Though he was Jael’s closest confidant, even he did not know Ailbhe’s true nature or that of Jael’s relationship with her.

  Without lifting his elbows from the desk, Jael twisted around to catch her in his periphery and raised his eyebrows in question.

  “Answer him,” she whispered.

  “It’s fine,” he said, more breathy than he would have liked. “I’m fine, thank you,” he repeated, this time more solidly.

  She pulled back and quickened her pace, watching the buckles of her harness leave prints on the cheeks of his backside as they dug into his skin with each thrust. Again, an involuntary and undeniably femme grunt escaped from his mouth.

  From the other side of the door, they could hear Ziv laughing and calling to inform the other crewmen that, “The captain’s really givin’ it to the mapmaker.”

  Ailbhe reached between his legs and clutched his balls, feeling them rock with every drive of her hips. His panting and grunting quickened. He could no longer hold himself up on his elbows, but yielded his chest to the desktop.

  “Who is the captain of the Danika Blue?” she said.

  “You are, sir,” he said between frenetic gasps. “You are the captain. You are my captain. You are…captain…sir.”
>
  As the desk pitched along, millimeters at a time, Jael’s glass of mead danced perilously close to the edge. She heard his stiff cock knocking on the desk as every plow pushed his chest farther across its surface.

  Jael attempted to continue his line, the sentence he knew she wanted to hear, but overburdened with sensation, all he could manage to push from his lips was, “Sir…sir…sir…”

  With every thrust, “Sir.”

  With every breath, “Sir,” until she felt his body tense and his balls tighten and rise. She yanked down on them hard and pulled completely out of him, smacking his backside with an open palm hard enough to bring the blood to the surface.

  Shocked, he looked back at her, knowing better than to say a word.

  “You think you deserve to be brought before your captain?” she said.

  “No, sir. No, sir, captain.” He should have known better.

  “On your knees,” she said, pointing to the floor where he stood.

  She walked around the desk, tracking spilled ink on the fallen maps until she was directly across from him. With a practiced flick of her fingers, she released her harness, laying it and her cock down.

  He looked at it with deep longing in his eyes. “Later,” she said.

  With startling agility, she bounded up onto the desk and walked to the edge at which he knelt. He remained at her feet and traced the line of her black boots with his eyes until they ended just below her knees. Following up her leg, he noticed for the first time the faintest iridescent blue of her milky skin. Her bare sex crowned her legs and at the top of it all was her bodice, with all its hooks and cords. A shudder danced up his spine as he tried to take in the full sight of her.

  She leaned her head forward, bringing her face into view, and looked down at him. Slowly, she squatted, opening her knees wide and spreading the folds of her sex in his face.

  He could smell the scent of her, musky and intoxicatingly sweet. Without moving his head, he looked up into her eyes and awaited her next command.

  “Worship,” she said.