Carnal Machines

by D. L. King

  “Whatever madam desires,” answered Burton, scarcely able to keep the glee from his voice. He had to be in his fifties, but he moved like a much younger man, lithe and sure, as he poured amber liquid into two glasses and placed one in her hand. He took a chair opposite her and sipped at his drink. Lin did the same, savoring the delicious burn as the liquor slipped down her throat.

  For long moments each took the other’s measure. Lin realized her objectives might be more difficult to achieve than she had expected. He was devilishly attractive. It would be hard to maintain control.

  Chris Burton surveyed the luscious visitor. She was taller than most of the girls Burton employed, but had the same willowy grace. Her jet hair was gathered into a knot at her nape, fastened by a carved ivory pin that Burton’s fingers itched to remove. Her fashionable silk frock spoke of wealth and taste. It hid the details of her figure but suggested pleasing curves. Her eyes were a surprising green and her nose was more prominent than most Chinese; perhaps she was of mixed blood.

  She was waiting for her host to speak. Burton was willing to offer a small surrender.

  “So what business is this that has brought you to my door so late, my dear?”

  Her eyes hardened to points of jade. “My name is Lin. Lin Xiao Chung. My master is the illustrious Fang Wu.”

  Burton knew the name—a rich merchant with pretensions to nobility, who also happened to operate the most exclusive brothels on the island. The most exclusive, that is, until Burton had arrived.

  “Master Wu’s reputation precedes him although I do not have the honor of his acquaintance.” Though they were conversing in English, Burton fell automatically into the polite formulas of Chinese discourse. “I cannot imagine how a humble foreigner such as I could assist him.”

  The girl blinked twice before answering. “Let us speak frankly, Mr. Burton. Since you arrived in Hong Kong, Fang Wu’s business has suffered greatly. Many of his regular customers, both foreign and native, have deserted his houses for your establishment.”

  “My establishment?” Burton pretended innocence, just for the fun of it.

  “Your brothel, sir.” Lin flushed. Burton smiled in encouragement. “The House of the White Tiger. People whisper about the marvelous sex machines you offer, cunning devices contrived for pleasure or punishment. Your engines supposedly make previously existing sexual mechanisms look primitive and crude.”

  “Well, that is the nature of commerce, is it not, Miss Lin? Competition is fundamental and superior technology will usually triumph.”

  “My master will not be satisfied with this answer. He would like to purchase your technology. Name your price.”

  Burton laughed. “I have no need of money. Surely Master Wu must know this.”

  “Why, then, do you persist in depriving him of his rightful income?”

  “His rightful income? Well, I don’t know about that. You Chinese know better than anyone that business is war. He has to earn his money, just as I do. As for me, I’ll be honest—I opened the White Tiger for my own entertainment. And of course as a way to annoy the merchants and dowagers of polite Hong Kong society.” Not to mention arrogant Han bandits like Wu, the entrepreneur added mentally.

  Lin sat silent, twisting her hands in her lap. Burton wondered what Wu would do to her, if she failed in her mission. “Show me,” she said, finally. “Show me your machines.”

  “Would you like a demonstration? That can be arranged.”

  “Not—not now,” she answered coolly. Her poise was remarkable. “I merely want to be able to explain to my master why your house is so popular. Surely you must have models on the premises.”

  “I can do better than exhibit models, my dear. I can show you the devices in action.”

  Burton rose and drew open the curtains that draped the south wall. Lin’s gasp was more than sufficient reward for revealing a few secrets.

  “What—how?” The comely visitor stepped closer to the wall, staring at the round panels of glass embedded in the surface, rather like the portholes on a steamship. Each port displayed some lascivious scene.

  In one window, a cloud of feathers pulsed around several naked forms writhing on a divan. With each thrust, the downy plumes caressed and tickled the bare skin of the two—or was it three?—participants. The feathers seemed alive, their motions triggered by cunning sensors in the divan itself.

  Another port displayed a lean mandarin, wearing only the hat that signified his office. A nude woman knelt at his feet. Each time she bent her head to swallow the man’s erection, a machine behind him lashed him with leather thongs, raining fierce blows down on his shoulders and back. His mouth twisted in a grimace that could have signified pain or pleasure.

  “She controls the beating by squeezing her thighs together,” Burton murmured in Lin’s ear. “Pneumatics. Works nicely during copulation as well.” The girl’s breath came faster. Clearly Burton’s creations had an arousing effect even at a distance.

  In a window in the center rank, a delicate Chinese woman was bound naked on a wrought iron frame. Beside her, a corpulent, bewhiskered Englishman ran his hands over a keyboard. As he played, phallus-shaped rods plunged into or emerged from the prisoner’s mouth, quim and bum, apparently in time to some unheard music. Pincers on jointed arms plucked at the girl’s nipples and little animated needles pricked the swell of her breasts.

  “There’s a plug up the major’s arse, too,” Burton commented. “And a sleeve on his cock. He’s always fancied himself a musician….”

  “How is this possible?” Lin tore her gaze away from the silent tableaux of lust to confront their creator. “The House of the White Tiger is two miles from here.”

  Burton shrugged. “Lenses. Mirrors. Conduits lined with glass.” Her musky scent wafted up from under her skirts and petticoats. She must be extremely aroused. “I’ve installed some ports in the house itself, of course. As you might expect, many of my clients enjoy watching the games being played in other chambers.”

  Lin’s eyes blazed with green fire. “This is outrageous! Obscene!”

  “I take that as a compliment, Miss Lin.” Burton grinned. What a savory morsel she was!

  “I must have these things. My master must have them.” Her earnestness only made her more desirable. “If money does not sway you, then I offer you my person. You are known to be a lustful man, highly susceptible to the charms of female flesh. You may perpetrate any sort of carnal act that pleases you upon my body. I will not resist.”

  Burton circled her waist and pulled her tight. Her heart beat like a trapped bird under the ruffled silk of her bodice. “Ah, but will you enjoy it, Miss Lin? And do you think that a single coupling would be adequate recompense for sharing the fruits of my engineering labors?”

  Lin would not meet his eyes. “I am the slave of Master Wu,” she murmured, so soft that Burton could scarcely hear. “In return for the keys to your devices, my master will gift me to you. Permanently.”

  Burton brought their lips together for a moment. Her breath smelled of ginger. “I don’t need a slave, Lin. All I need is a willing partner.” Her breasts were soft pillows swelling above the rigid constraints of her stays. Her stiff, fat nipples could be detected even through the layers of her chemise, bodice and tunic vest.

  “I want you, Lin. Do you want me?” Chris Burton already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from her own lips.

  “Yes,” she sighed, leaning against the engineer’s chest as though weak with desire. “I do.”

  Burton snatched the ivory ornament from her chignon. A flood of midnight hair cascaded down her back.

  Lin’s corset gripped her torso like an iron cage. She could scarcely breathe. Burton undressed her with unexpected skill, seeming to understand all the intricacies of female couture. With deftness and patience he undid the hooks, buttons and laces that held her elaborate costume together. He did not pause to caress her, but each time his fingers brushed her bare skin, she trembled. There was no need for her to feign exci
tement as was often the case when she serviced Master Wu or his guests. In a delicious swoon, she submitted to Burton’s ministrations.

  She remembered the hidden knife at the very last minute, snatching the tablier from his hands just as he untied it. She set the garment on the table flanking the chaise. Burton raised an eyebrow but said nothing, continuing to remove her vest, bodice, skirt and petticoat.

  He turned her around like a doll and buried his face in her hair, breathing her scent while kneading her buttocks through her cambric knickers. Without thinking she arched back, rubbing her bum against his groin. The hardness she detected there set off a flood in her quim. He slid one hand around her waist and down her belly to cup her mound. She moaned, spreading her thighs, inviting him within. Burton chuckled and strummed his fingers against the damp fabric, making her jerk in his grasp.

  “I observe that you are quite ready for my attentions,” he said. “But let’s get rid of this bloody corset first.” Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, he addressed himself to the laces crisscrossing her back, loosening them until there was sufficient give to release the front hooks on the garment. Air rushed into Lin’s lungs. She stumbled against him, momentarily dizzy.

  Burton caught her and lowered her to the chaise. Then he removed her pantaloons, leaving her naked but for her chemise and silk stockings.

  The lust Lin saw in his eyes reminded her of who she was and why she was there. She reclined against the golden cushions, her hair fanning out behind her. She knew that she was irresistible. Bringing her heels up onto the couch, she opened her thighs to expose her moist pink cleft. The humid scent of her sex filled the parlor. “Take me, sir,” she entreated, her voice husky. “I’m yours.”

  She expected Burton to tear open his trousers and plunge his manhood into her tempting wetness. Instead, he knelt between her splayed legs. His warm breath danced over her sensitive tissues. Her nipples tightened into aching knots. Fresh liquid trickled into the creases of her bent legs.

  For ages he did nothing but blow gently into her quim. She squirmed, tilting her pelvis toward his face, striving vainly for contact. Arousal and frustration wiped everything else from her mind. “Please…” she begged, all pride forgotten.

  Burton used his tongue to answer, sweeping long strokes from the back of her quim to the front, flicking briefly over the nub hidden at the apex each time he arrived there. Each touch stoked the embers of her pleasure. Each flick made delight flare. She writhed under his mouth, wanting more, and he was merciful. He buried his face in her slick folds, using lips, tongue and teeth to drive her into a frenzy. First he’d suck on her whorled flesh, then he’d poke his tongue deep into her hollows, waking an irresistible desire for penetration; then he’d stab at her swollen pearl, worrying it back and forth until she moaned uncontrollably.

  Lin never reached climax with her customers, but she felt a crisis gathering now, bearing down upon her like a runaway steam engine. The heat and the pressure climbed to unbearable levels. Burton focused on her clit now, sucking and nibbling, while one hand frigged her quim and the other toyed with her bum-hole. She fought against her body, unwilling to lose control, but the master engineer between her thighs manipulated her like some clockwork automaton. He knew which levers to throw, which buttons to push. When he nipped at her pearl and pushed two fingers into her bum, she flew off into climax, wheeling helplessly through sparkling inner space.

  The next thing Lin knew, Burton was on the chaise, looming over her limp body. A cock of very respectable size protruded from his unbuttoned trousers, with a moist pink bulb that made her mouth water. He rubbed the tip over the still-twitching flesh of her quim. Lin smiled and spread her thighs wide, inviting him inside.

  The warm, smooth rod of flesh felt wonderful sliding into her climax-sensitized depths. He moved gracefully between her legs, stroking in and out with a firm, steady rhythm completely unlike the rough prodding most men employed. She clutched at him with well-trained muscles and felt his flesh ripple in response, swelling to fill her more completely. Hands on her knees, he urged her thighs farther apart so that he could penetrate more deeply.

  Ah, this was delicious! A new climax stirred in her belly, coiling tighter with each of his strokes. Burton was watching her, reading her reactions with those bright blue eyes. She cupped her breasts and tugged on the nipples, knowing this would excite him, finding that it excited her as well. He moved faster, plunging into her with greater force, just as she craved. Her climax bubbled up, nearing the surface. He slammed into her again and again. Each stroke carried her a breath closer to orgasm.

  His eyes were closed now. His fingernails dug into her flesh but the slight pain only took her higher. He bit down on his lip as his hips jerked, driving his cock into her flesh. He was striving, reaching for release the same way she was.

  All at once he gave a funny, high-pitched yell and ground his pelvis against hers. Wet heat billowed inside her as he filled her with his spunk. The sensation pushed her over the edge and then she was coming too, spasming around his hardness, colors flashing behind her eyes.

  Lin recovered before Burton. She found him slumped against the wall, eyes shut and mouth open. His cock protruded from his trousers, slick with cunt-juice and come, but still as hard as ever—or perhaps hard again. The sight rekindled her uncharacteristic lust. She clambered over to his prone form and bent to kiss his lovely rampant organ.

  The taste was—strange. She recognized the flavor of her own secretions, but there was none of the chalky bitterness of a man’s seed. And the skin—it was as soft as it looked but far more elastic than it should have been. It was almost rubbery. Nevertheless, the organ twitched and swelled in response to her attentions.

  Lin slipped a stealthy hand into Burton’s trousers, exploring his odd genitals. She traced the smooth length of the shaft down toward the man’s belly, expecting wiry hair and the twin sacs of his balls.

  Instead she encountered canvas straps, soft down and the unmistakable slickness of a woman’s pussy.

  A fingertip brushing her clit roused Chris Burton from her postcoital lethargy. She moaned in delight before bolting upright. “What in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Her strong fingers clamped down on Lin’s wrist and dragged the invading hand out of her trousers.

  Lin’s jade eyes were wide with shock. She didn’t even attempt to free herself. “You’re—you’re a woman!”

  “So?” A ghost of Burton’s trademark grin illuminated her face. “I still made you come, did I not? Twice, if I am not mistaken.”

  “But your cock—it felt so real. It reacted to my motions just like a man’s. I felt it swelling. I felt it pumping.”

  “Just clever clockwork, my dear.” Burton pushed her trousers down to her ankles to display a bewildering array of tubes and wires connected to the still-engorged phallus. “A tiny steam engine fed by my body heat. Electrostatic sensors. Pneumatic systems for fluid delivery and hydraulics for motion.”

  “You are a genius,” said Lin, admiration evident in her voice.

  “You’re right. I am.” Burton pulled off the rest of her clothing and stood naked before the still-astounded Chinese woman. Chris Burton was sturdily built, with muscular thighs, small breasts sporting nipples the size of pennies and ample hips that had been hidden by her male garb. A pale scar crossed her chest from left shoulder to her sternum, souvenir of one of her more dangerous voyages. Another marred her belly. Her pubic hair was as silver as the pelt on her head. She shrugged and smiled wryly. “But what good does it do me when I can’t be myself?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been masquerading as male most of my life. My parents succumbed to typhoid in Rajastan when I was twelve. I knew that I’d have to become a boy to survive and to do all the things I wanted to do. I have had forty years of adventures: expeditions, inventions, seductions. Lately, though, wearing the mask has become a bit tiresome.”

  “And has no one ever discovered the truth before?” Burto
n could see the wheels turning in Lin’s brain. She grabbed the Chinese girl’s arm and twisted it to the back, pulling the scantily clad body tight against her own.

  “No one who lived.” With her other hand, Burton reached for Lin’s overskirt. She fished out the knife and traced the tip along Lin’s cheek. “I can’t trust anyone to keep my secret. So there have been a few who have carried it to the grave.”

  “You can trust me.” Chris Burton heard the pleading in Lin’s voice. The girl reached back with her free hand, trying to stroke Burton’s breast.

  “Oh, really? Then why were you carrying a hidden blade?” Burton whirled the younger woman around, catching both wrists in one powerful hand while holding the knife to Lin’s throat with the other.

  Lin looked remarkably composed despite her danger. Her brow was unlined and her eyes were tranquil, verdant pools. “The knife was purely to protect myself, I swear. I walked here, by myself. I might have encountered some villain who wanted my purse or my honor.”

  “Your honor!” Burton chuckled grimly. “The honor of a whore?”

  Lin did not flinch. “Furthermore, I might have needed a weapon to use against you. After all, a woman alone with a strange man…”

  “Did you not come here intending to seduce me?”

  “That was just one option… Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Hmph!” Burton gave a skeptical grunt, but she released Lin nevertheless. The oriental beauty sank down onto the chaise. “What about your precious Master Wu?”

  “I hate him.” Lin’s voice was full of venom. “Until I met you, though, I had no other option but to obey him.”

  “And now? What do you propose? How will you satisfy him that you have fulfilled his commission?”

  “He really did offer me to you as your slave.”

  “He must be quite desperate to get hold of my inventions.” Chris Burton lowered herself to the carpet, where she crossed her legs Indian style.

  “Oh, he is. He’s obsessed with you. The ‘devil engineer’ he calls you.”