by Anh Leod
He shrugged. “The proprietress has a key. If it isn’t wound the alarm gets louder and louder, depending on how much time is set.”
Jonathan’s fingers fluttered, as if he played with imaginary gears. “Did you try to make a deal with her?”
“The proprietress said it would cost me one hundred pounds to buy Celeste’s contract.”
“A nasty business.”
“Any ideas? It would take me years to come up with the money.”
Jonathan scratched his nose. “You feel it completely necessary to help her?”
“There isn’t anyone else. She was a sweet girl. This shouldn’t have happened. Not at all her fault.”
“If you pay for time with her, and can get the infernal device off her body, could you escape from her chamber?”
Brace considered this. “The window has iron bars outside. I checked. We’d have to leave the room and get out either through the door, past the enormous brute who waits by the stairs, or from the top of the house, over the roofs.”
“Without the alarm at her neck sounding. Tell me about this clockwork. Perhaps we can disable it.”
“It’s a brass case with some kind of pin at the pack pierced through her flesh in two places. There’s also an iron chain choker around her neck.”
“Tell me about the clockwork.”
Brace closed his eyes. “Iron, I think, nothing fine. Heavy and durable.”
“You say the clock hands are iron?”
“I think so. They certainly aren’t silver or gold. It didn’t look delicate or decorative at all.”
Jonathan leaned over and patted his knee. “There you go. That’s the answer.”
“What is?”
The corners of Jonathan’s thin mouth rose. “Magnets. With a powerful magnet, you can disrupt the hands, turning the clockwork off, as it were. Simple enough.”
“Really?”
“You wouldn’t even need to be in the room to do it. We could take an iron cylinder, wrap some wire around it, copper might be the least expensive, then attach the ends to one of Mr. Bunsen’s cells and there you go. A magnet.” Jonathan pulled his boot from the stool, went to one of his workbenches and fiddled for a few minutes.
Brace got up and stepped over so he could watch his friend encircling a few inches of iron with brass wire. Jonathan left the ends dangling. Then, he pulled a large cylinder to himself and attached the wires to either end.
Immediately, all the metal fragments on the table slid toward the foul-smelling cylinder. Jonathan quickly disconnected one end and grinned. “That will stop your friend’s clock.”
Had his friend been sniffing too many foul odors? “I couldn’t walk into the brothel with that thing.”
“Can you get onto the roof above her room? It still ought to work.”
Brace rubbed at his chin, bristly with whiskers after a long day. “I’ll pay a call on her again and figure it out. At the very least I need to share the plan.”
“I suppose you can hardly send around a note to a whore,” Jonathan agreed. “Remember to keep the wire off the battery until you are ready to act.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“Better my skill than my money,” Jonathan said.
*****
As soon as the door closed on Mrs. Teagarden the next night, Celeste rushed into Brace’s arms. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t come back.”
“I told you I’d help you,” he reminded her, then rubbed his hands sensuously up and down her back. “I’m a man of my word.”
Celeste kept smiling but behind the expression tried to decide what he expected of her now. His cock was a thick bar against her belly. He’d paid for an hour again. Did he want the embraces he’d paid for? Or did he want to speak to his childhood friend? The cost of this life had been a split in her personality. It had kept her sane. Inside she was still Celeste, the girl from a good family who’d had an idyllic childhood. Outside, she was the clockwork whore. But as long as she kept her inner life private, nothing a man did to her could ever matter.
Brace wasn’t any customer though, but her old friend. He’d grown to manhood exceptionally well. His long, lean body and attention to her pleasure had made for an incredible hour. Remembering, her breasts felt full, her cunny wet and empty. Desire was unfamiliar to her, but she recognized the signs.
What she felt for Brace was different, but could she be sexual with him without falling back into her Liza persona? And what did he want?
She held back a wince as his fingers caressed her bottom. Her last customer early this morning had given her a solid caning.
“Celeste,” Brace murmured into her hair. “I’ve been unable to stop thinking of you.”
The embraces. That was what he wanted. How long would he string her along, claiming rescue plans while he took his pleasure with her? Of course, he’d given her the best carnal experience of her life, but that might simply be his kink. Variations on men’s sexual desire seemed endless. Maybe a woman’s pleasure fueled Brace’s own. They’d been too young to think of such things when she’d moved to London.
“You’re always on my mind,” she whispered back. It was true enough, though her thoughts had been as much about rescue as about his strong legs, thick cock and rounded ass.
His hands moved up her torso, but stopped just under her breasts. She felt his breath on her ear. “You should be able to escape this place tomorrow night.”
Her breath seemed to freeze in her breast. Escape? Had she judged his motives too soon?
~*~
CHAPTER THREE
“An inventor friend helped me come up with a plan,” Brace said.
Celeste was glad his mouth was so close to her ear. Anyone could be in the corridor listening. Her nipples slid against his coat, barely protected by her thin gown, distracting her. “But how?”
“We’re going to stop that clock of yours, then escape over the roof.” His fingers played with the undersides of her breasts. “I’ve spent the day wandering this street. I used money I borrowed to rent a room in the house next door.”
She touched the medallion at her throat, her constant companion for nearly three years. How she longed to say goodbye to the ticking and the alarms forever, but the sounds would probably haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.
“There’s a trapdoor,” he continued. “I’ll climb out, and since the buildings are linked, it’s easy to get onto the roof here. I’ll set the device my friend gave me, which should stop the clocks in the house, and then you can climb out the trapdoor here .We’ll be in my rented room in under five minutes.”
“Are you sure you can stop the clockwork?” She didn’t care about the climbing since she’d never feared heights.
“Not everyone has an inventor for a friend. First Mrs. Teagarden and now me. It took an inventor to create this mess, and now an inventor has found a way out.”
His breath tickled her ear. “I can’t stay on the street. They’ll find me and bring me back.”
“We have to get you to Camden Town immediately so my friend can cut the medallion off you. I haven’t quite figured that part out yet. I think we’ll have to rent a carriage and leave the magnet, otherwise your alarm will go off.”
“Is that a problem?”
“The magnet smells terrible, for one thing. Someone might find it. But we’ll manage somehow.” He stroked his hand down to her waist. “Yes, I’ll have the carriage waiting tomorrow night. Mrs. Teagarden promised me your first appointment of the night so you should be free of this monstrosity by midnight tomorrow.”
And then she’d only have to figure out the rest of her life. How much would Brace do to help her? Would he be reminded of what she was? She blinked and willed away all these thoughts. Decisions could come tomorrow. Tomorrow would be overwhelming enough.
She smiled in her practiced way at Brace. “I cannot thank you enough.” Slowly, she slid to her knees in front of him.
He watched her fingers slide up his legs. She set her
cheek at the hem of his coat and nosed the fabric away at his waist.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, unclasping her hands from his thighs and warming them in his own large palms. “I didn’t come here for that reason.”
“But I want to,” she said, knowing this was true, now that she knew he really meant to help her.
“I want it too, but I have something else in mind.”
“You do?” Wondering what he meant, she allowed him to pull her to her feet and walk her to the bed.
“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he confessed. “And I’d love to have your mouth on my cock, but you know how much I like to taste you.”
“I noticed that last time.”
“Let’s share the experience.”
She almost smiled at the eager tone. Life hadn’t jaded her Brace yet. “No one has ever wanted to do that before.”
“Good. I haven’t either. It will be a first for both of us. That’s good, right?”
Her smile was genuine this time. “Perfect, Brace. Just perfect.”
Her clockwork medallion chimed, reminding them that their first ten minutes were gone. A bubble of nausea popped in her belly at the sound, but Brace laughed. “By tomorrow night that sound will be gone from your life.”
He pulled up her gown while she undid buttons and fastenings. When his boots were gone he tripped over the trousers and underdrawers still tangled on his legs and fell onto the cot, pulling her down on top of him.
She lifted her chin and kissed him. Then, realizing what she’d done, she levered herself up on her arms and took stock of him, his face a scant inch from hers. Kissing wasn’t a whore’s tool, but a courtesan’s or even a wife’s. What kind of relationship did their future hold?
Before her she saw a man still young. In the gaslight she saw traces of the freckles he’d sported as a child still dotting his nose, though she imagined his days of running through fields and climbing trees were long gone. His hair was thick and sandy, a shade or two darker than his childhood hue and she realized his fingers were covered in traces of ink. Not a schoolboy anymore, but a clerk.
However, his adventurous, daring spirit was still evident in his rescue plan, as well as his penchant for unusual friends. He had been the only boy she knew who befriended both the vicar’s son and the town drunk’s son, the squire’s son and the blacksmith’s son. And he’d called her friend too, despite all his other playmates.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, playing with a lock of hair that had fallen on her shoulder.
“What a good playmate you were.”
“I still am,” he said, running his fingers down her ribs.
She twisted away, laughing. “Still ticklish there.”
He grinned. “I noticed.”
“But, sir,” she said, sitting up. “We are in the wrong position for what we had planned.”
“You could never be in the wrong position with your breasts in front of my mouth.” He lifted his head and tongued one of her nipples.
She felt suspended in time, waiting to see what he did next. Most of her customers would pinch, but not this one. His gaze matched hers as he sucked gently, then offered the same service to her other nipple. Every move he made relaxed her.
“You have beautiful breasts. Now come, sit on my face.”
She smiled, delighted, and complied, twisting and slithering into position, tonguing her way down his flat stomach, pausing at his convex navel for a nibble, then feathering her fingers through the crisp hair at his groin.
His cock stood at attention, glistening with pre-cum. She touched his scrotum and found his balls already gathered close to his body.
Brace was not so deliberate with her. She arched when she felt his tongue dart up her cunny, stroking in and out. Then he tugged her hips closer and feasted on her pearl, sucking and laving and nibbling. But she had her own feast, with the rich scent of his personal musk to guide her way. She opened her mouth and slid it down his cock, swallowing to bring him deeper into her throat. Her own writhing against his mouth caused her to move on his cock so that they were in perfect harmony.
Every so often he paused to let out a moan, to tighten his grip on her hips, to swirl his tongue along the insides of her labia. She teased too, though it was hard to focus with such exquisite sensations wracking her body.
Her heavy fall of hair loosened from her pins and spread over his muscled thighs like the frosting on a cake. He must spend a lot of time walking the city and country, a popular pastime with young men. She wondered if he rode too. The thought made her giggle and bounce on his face. He slapped her bottom and pulled her harder against him.
The additional pressure made flames lick up her belly. The muscles of her lower body tightened and she knew she didn’t have much longer. She had to make him come along with her. Swallowing again, she took him deep into her throat just as he sucked her pearl. Her body clenched. She broke, shuddering against him.
He pulled her to one side and thrust hard into her mouth, then came himself, shooting his cum down her throat. She swallowed the creamy fluid then let his still-hard length fall from her lips, and rested her shuddering body against his thigh.
If he could always offer her such pleasure, she was his for life.
*****
The next night, Brace toted the salt jar-sized Bunsen cell and other pieces of the magnet up the steps to his newly rented room, wrapped in the dark secondhand cloak he’d bought for Celeste. Noxious substances swished inside the cell as he fumbled for the key and opened the door.
It was a little too early still, but he wanted to make sure the door to the roof was unlocked. When he’d satisfied his curiosity he went downstairs and found a fish-and-chips stall. On the way back to his room it started to rain. He was grateful because the storm would cover any sounds of his rescue.
Once he locked his door again, he separated his order into three parts. One for now and two for later. He and Celeste would need something to bolster their spirits for the long night ahead.
The carriage had been ordered for eight-thirty. He’d set the magnet on the roof directly over Celeste’s room, then climb back into this house and arrive at Mrs. Teagarden’s just before eight. When the proprietress brought him to Celeste’s room, hopefully no more than ten minutes after he’d set the magnet, her clockwork medallion should have stopped and they could leave out the trapdoor to the roof as soon as everyone was busy in the rooms around them. Since, according to Jonathan, the magnet ought to keep its strong assisted charge for four hours or more, they had plenty of time if anything went wrong.
He wondered if any of the other whores would notice. When the chimes didn’t go off that would be a clue. Hopefully Mrs. Teagarden and her guards wouldn’t be near any of the women at the time. While he wished he could help everyone, Celeste was his focus.
He ate the steaming hot fish and potatoes slowly, savoring each bite, wondering if this was his last night of solitude. Would Celeste want to stay with him in his rooms? Then again, did she have anywhere else to go? If she’d had friends, surely they could have rescued her from her father’s scheme before it happened. After three years of imprisonment, she’d have lost contact with anyone who might know her.
He felt his cock hardening in his trousers as his brain unfailingly detailed all the many things they could do together late at night in privacy. How could he help her to forget except by erasing those memories of her customers with the love they made together? But did she have the kind of affection a woman had for a man with him, or did she simply remember their childhood days fondly? Only time would tell.
He stared at the wall, wondering if she was on the other side, getting ready for the night. Of course, her room was much closer to the front of the house. If he’d been able to get the room on the other side of the wall from hers, he might have been able to make the magnet work from here, but then he also risked someone being able to get to it easily and disconnect it. The roof was safer.
He wiped his hands
on the edge of the sheet of newsprint his meal had come in when he was finished and wished he’d bought more. A full belly might make climbing more difficult, though. A church bell rang a couple of blocks over, alerting him that it was seven o’clock in the evening.
“Might as well get started,” he said aloud, flattening the newsprint and unrolling his bundle. He set the jar and the magnet on the paper, then put the cloak to one side while he reviewed his task.
Ten minutes later he crept down the hall, hearing sounds behind doors as families settled in for the evening. He pulled the rope hanging from the trapdoor at the end of the hall and reached for the steps, lowering them as quietly as possible. After one last glance to ensure no one was watching, he went up the steps and pulled them in behind him so the trapdoor closed.
Now he was in a dark attic, holding his newsprint-wrapped bundle tightly against his chest. The window he wanted faced the back of the house. Walking carefully through the darkness, he found the window, located the latch by touch, and opened it. Rain hit his face immediately.
He sighed. No one said rescuing childhood friends from brothels came easily. He tucked his equipment into his shirt, so that it rested securely against his belt and abdomen, then climbed onto the window sill, leaned out of the space and grasped the edge of the roof. Just above his head, he could easily lever himself up to the slates once he turned to face the house, though they were slippery.
A moment later he found himself splayed over the vee in the roof on the edge of his stomach so he didn’t damage the Bunsen cell. He put his hand on the crown of his bowler hat and pushed it tightly on his head, hoping the rain would run off it onto the roof and not him. Then, clutching his shirt, he slid boot heels first, down the shallow slope to the gutter marking the part where Mrs. Teagarden’s establishment began.
When he reached it, he chuckled. If not for the rain this would be a fun lark. On hands and knees, he crept forward to the front of the house, remaining low, though it was unlikely anyone could see a man dressed in black from the street. When he was almost to the edge, he pulled out the now damp newspaper and took off his gloves. He set the cell in front of him and uncoiled the copper wires so he could attach them to it at each end.