Crimson Clockwork Pt. 01/03

The haze of red mist grew more intense. I could barely see anything beyond our table save for a few faint outlines and silhouettes, isolating our little game from the wickedness around us.

The distraction I unleashed and the lessons of that first loss allowed me to persist much longer in the second game. It took the masked stranger a full twenty moves to finally defeat me, at the cost of nearly all of his pieces.

"You're a quick learner."

"So is your friend over there," I said, keeping my eyes upon him as I gestured into the red fog. The cries of yet another woman sliced over the tumult of the other revelers.

"How do you know we're friends? Maybe we all just share a tailor."

"Another game," the mainlander beneath me grunted. "I'll help you this time."

Intrigued, I set up the pieces for another match. Occasionally the mainlander intervened, his scarred hand reaching for mine and redirecting a few of my moves. That technically violated the rules of the Rite, though I was having too much fun teasing him to give a damn.

Every now and then he would whisper advice in my ear. Each utterance of that low, husky voice drew forth a soft sigh from me. I continued to rock and wriggle within his lap, though he kept his hands off of me save to guide my moves upon the board.

After I flicked my piece against the last of my foe's, I lifted my hands in triumph.

"Well played," said my vanquished foe with a soft chuckle.

"And I think this skilled tactician deserves a token of my gratitude," I said, tilting my head back so my lips could graze the mainlander's jaw.

As my tongue flitted out for a taste, I withdrew a red feather from my belt and tucked it into his collar.

Even though the brute had been given official permission to touch me, all I received was a soft brush of his fingers over my hip.

My heart fluttered, somehow finding that more thrilling than an intense kiss.

"I'll redeem that in due time," he said, his voice low and ominous.

I flicked my tongue against his jaw once more and rose smoothly from his lap.

"No red feather for me?" the other man asked with a wide smile. "Not even for teaching you how to play?"

As more moans and cries echoed through the red mist, I withdrew another feather and cocked my head, making a grand show of the mental dilemma.

Leaning forward, I brushed the feather over his cheek, but whipped it away before he could snatch it.

"Perhaps if you'd have let me win one of our other matches, I might have been tempted."

Movement flickered through the red haze to my left. The other man in black leather emerged, apparently having sated enough women for the time being.

Those bright green eyes looked me up and down as he approached.

Without a word, he brushed the red feather over my neck.

The first to claim his prize for the evening.

Still silent, he took my hand and gestured back the way he'd came, but I tutted and shook my head.

"Why walk all the way across the room when we have a perfectly serviceable table right here?"

The mainlander and his friend laughed. My would-be lover gave me a gentle push until my silk-clad backside bumped against the table. Firm hands clutched my hips, raising me up and setting me down, scattering thelorkaa pieces about.

I laughed as the pieces tumbled to the floor. My delicate fingers yanked up the hem of my little silken dress as the mysterious, silent stranger fell to his knees before me.

My sex was completely bare beneath the silk; dew already clung to the soft, neatly trimmed hair.

"Time to see what was so impressive about you," I whispered.

I did not have to wait long to find out. After two soft kisses to my shuddering inner thighs, the silent stranger flicked his tongue along my sex. Giggling, I shuddered a little and glanced over at the man who had yet to receive a feather. To my delight, his eyes were glued to my sex, watching with enraptured interest as his friend licked me again.

Each lick was firmer and faster than the last, until he'd built up a wondrously consistent rhythm that drew forth soft gasps and the occasional sob.

I threw my head back and laughed, quite glad that I'd abandoned that silly game oflorkaa to finally indulge the purpose of the Rite.

The silent stranger settled his hands upon my thighs, giving me a chance to notice that he was missing his left pinky. While I was certain there was a story to be told, I cared naught at all for it at the moment. Besides, the rules of the Rites prohibited learning about one's lovers.

Names, pasts, identities...all were irrelevant.

All that matter was the joy of lust and the heat of our bodies.

I raised my trembling legs, draping them over his shoulders. His green eyes flashed up at me and he let out a low, thrumming moan against my folds.

"I gave you that red feather for a reason," I murmured at the mainlander, tearing my gaze away from my lover for just a moment. "You can kiss and touch me all you like."

"I know," he rumbled, his blue eyes boring into mine. "But perhaps I just want to watch."

After letting out a growl of frustration, I reached up and grabbed my left breast, my trembling fingers teasing at my nipple through the thin, sheer fabric.

"I, however, would not be content just to watch," said the other man at the table, flashing me a bright grin.

"I might be tempted to grant you a feather, were it not for that smug tone," I shot back, before my eyes rolled back at a particularly firm lick between my legs.

Despite my refusal, he let out a warm laugh and rose from his chair before vanishing into the mist. Through the haze I could make out other shadowy figures. They crowded around the table for a better view, no doubt hoping that I might grant one of them a red feather as well.

I glared past them, trying to see where that damnable man had gone.

My irritation and curiosity vanished the moment my masked lover slipped two fingers inside of my sex, thrusting in perfect rhythm with those firm, long licks.

Eyes bulging and mouth agape, I flailed about for a moment, grasping hold of the mainlander's burly arm for support.

He still refused to kiss or touch me, seemingly content just to leer with those hungry blue eyes of his.

"You're starting to make me regret giving you that feather," I growled after regaining enough composure to speak. A soft little moan or whimper erupted between every few words.

"You won't," the burly man said with a shake of his head. "Because once my friend makes you come, I'm going to pin you against that wall and fuck you until you weep."

I bit my lip, whimpering both at those wicked words and at the rising tide unleashed by the man between my legs. My hand gripped his curls, while the other reached up to gently cup the brawny mainlander's chin.

Grunting with effort, I tried to lean up to claim a kiss, only for him to smirk and push me away.

I had half a mind to toss a red feather into the haze-covered crowd. Before I could do so, the other masked man returned, bearing a little vial.

My eyes narrowed.

"And what is that?" I asked, half-moaning.

"Oil," he said in a casual tone as he took his seat.

I blinked, my senses dulled by the sweet scent of the incense and the fire roaring through my body.

"For what purpose?"

"So I can fuck your ass when my friends are finished with you."

Several of the onlookers laughed. Torn between irritation at his impudence and grudging admiration for his confidence, I affixed him with a glare before turning my full attention back to the man between my legs.

Moans of other worshipers rippled through the mist. From my right came the wild sounds of a woman approaching climax and the impact of flesh upon flesh. Behind me rose the whining pleas of a desperate man intermixed with a woman's muffled laughter.

After a few deep breaths I forgot all about the wicked sounds around me, focusing fully on the sensations pulsing from my sex.

By the dead gods, that man must have had impeccable self-control to taste so many women and not try to seek his own pleasure. Perhaps I'd sate his needs before allowing anyone else to use me...

The big man leaned down, his breath hot and rough against my ear.

"I can see how wet he's making you," he growled. "Good. You'll need that."

"I can revoke that red feather at any time," I hissed back through clenched teeth.

Perhaps as an apology, or perhaps as a means of tormenting me further, he flicked his tongue against the side of my neck.

That little sensation, combined with the efforts of that wicked tongue against my sex, set me off within moments. My fingers dug into the scalp of the man between my legs as my toes curled against his back. The crowd cheered, drowning out the sound of my rising moans and desperate cries. The table shook beneath me as I bucked upwards, the frenzied motions sending morelorkaa pieces scattering to the floor.

I went rigid as the storm took hold, my thighs quaking before clenching against my lover's cheeks. My cries shifted into low and needy sobs. After a few long and breathless moments, I finally exhaled before letting out a sudden shriek that tore through the haze of red mist.

The cheers intensified as I flopped back onto the table. The man between my legs rose, wiped his lips clean, and vanished into the red mist without a word. I mewled at his absence before letting out a sudden squeak as the burly mainlander grabbed my hips and lifted me from the table.

Given the weakness in my legs unleashed by that orgasm, I would have tumbled to the ground were it not for his powerful grasp. As cheers rose from the other worshipers, he gently shoved me against the wall. Too delirious with need, I didn't care at all about the discomfort of my cheek against the ancient stone.

As his feet forced my ankles apart, I looked over my shoulder. The increasingly thick cloud of incense prevented me from seeing much of his muscular frame. His blue eyes, however, shone like beacons within the mist.

Staring back at me, he tore off his belt and took a firm hold of my hip. His other hand reached between my legs, brushing over the nectar unleashed by his friend's efforts. I shivered at his touch and then again when I felt the tip of his cock brush over my folds.

For a few moments he simply teased me, rocking that thick crown up and down over my sex, just barely grazing it over my dripping entrance.

"I'm not going to beg," I snarled through clenched teeth. "If you keep this up, I'll cast you aside and grant a red feather to someone less obstinate."

"So be it," he growled.

A simple tilt of his hips...and he was inside me. I cried out, my cheek pressing against the rough stone, my eyes fluttering as my desperate cunt embraced him all the way to the hilt.

After allowing me a few moments to adjust, he pulled back, let out another growl, and began to claim me.

My fingers scraped against the stone, struggling for anything to hold onto, anything to steady myself against that brutal onslaught. My cries turned to weak, desperate little chirps and whimpers as his powerful hips crashed against my backside.

A more considerate lover might have reached around to tend to my clit, but that brute only wanted to use me. I was a tool, a plaything...

By the dead gods, how I loved it.

I mewled and wailed against the wall, my legs shaking, my toes curling. Were it not for his steady grip I surely would have slid down to the floor. Drool leaked from my lips and ran down the wall. Sweat rolled down my heaving breasts. My dark curls flailed through the air as thrust after thrust stole my breath.

"Someone," I sputtered out. "Someone step forward. I don't care who."

A shadowy figure emerged from the mist to my right. Man, woman...I couldn't tell. Nor did I care. All that mattered was getting over the edge. My shaking hand tore a red feather from the little pouch and shoved it at the would-be supplicant.

"Fingers between my legs. Now."

My mysterious benefactor obeyed at once. Rough fingers slipped down, caressing the spots that had been so expertly licked a few minutes before. That sudden new sensation along with the brutal thrusts from the mainlander were all I required.

I let out a hoarse, shaky cry as I came, my fingers scratching against the dusty stone. True to the mainlander's promise, my eyes watered beneath the assault of those sensations. My hips rocked and writhed back against him.

If I'd have known his name, I surely would have screamed it out.

As my senses and wits returned, I felt his cock pulse and twitch inside me. Those powerful hips shuddered against my rear.

I grinned, licking my lips.

He was close.

I batted away the hand that had teased at my sex, braced both of my hands against the wall, and rocked back against the mainlander. A scarred hand clutched the back of my neck. My grin widened as a weak little sob broke through his heavy growls.

Oh, what a triumph it was to conquer such a man.

After two more of those brutal thrusts, he at last surrendered. My eyes lit up at the sensation of him spurting deep within me, and I moaned with glee at the way his hands clutched at my neck and hip. He cursed and growled in a guttural foreign tongue, his mighty thrusts devolving into slow, soft movements.

Panting, he brushed his lips over the back of my neck. I grinned and leaned my head over my shoulder, licking at his jaw.

The man who'd worked his fingers over my sex brushed the red feather against my cheek. Glancing over, I laughed at the sight of that impudent man who'd promised to use my ass.

"Of course it was you," I said with a playful growl.

"Right place, right time."

Without a word, the big brute slipped out of me, before grabbing my hips and lowering me onto a nearby couch. A dark-skinned man had a slender woman bent over the armrest of the couch, plowing into her from behind.

I barely paid them any mind at all as my next lover approached. Grinning, he slid his trousers down, exposing a hard and delicious-looking prick. I murmured with anticipation as he dripped oil onto his cock.

Licking my lips, I reached out and took hold of his shaft, stroking him and spreading the oil about.

Someone handed over a pillow, which I slipped beneath me, tilting my ass up and giving my lover greater access to my body.

"By the dead gods, you are a sight to behold," he murmured, brushing his hands over my thighs, his eyes dancing over my heaving chest.

"You came here to fuck, not to gawk," I said with a playful glare, tightening my hand around his cock for a moment.

He shuddered beneath my grasp and leaned down, looming over me. I released his shaft and wrapped one arm around his neck, holding him close while the tip of his cock prodded at my ass. Grinning down at me, he circled his oil-soaked prick against my hole.

My free hand reached down, running my fingers over my clit. A lazy, contended smile played across my face. The gentle teasing of his cock and the efforts of my fingers would probably be enough to make me climax before long.

I took a deep breath to center myself. For the first time since I'd stepped into the manor, I smelled something other than the sweet scent of the incense.

Smoke.

I blinked.

My lover glanced over his shoulder, slipping the tip of his cock out of my ass. Fear banished my pleasure and I bolted upright.

A scream burst through the haze of smoke. Something thudded against the ceiling. Wood shattered. Splinters and shards rained down.

My lover leaned down, covering my body with his and taking the full pelting of the debris.

"Is it them?" the mainlander hissed through the mist.

"Them?" I repeated, my fear erupting into a raging fire.

By the dead gods...had this all been some sort of plot?

I kneed the man in the gut, forcing him off of me. Whoever he was, whatever he wanted, it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting out of there alive.

As more thuds hit the ceiling and more debris rained down, I rolled onto the floor. Yellow light flared from the other side of the room. A sharp bang and a wave of hot air dispelled most of the mist, revealing several holes in the ceiling and the rear wall of the manor.

Crab-shaped machines skittered through the breaches, moonlight gleaming against their dark blue hulls. Glowing runes adorned their sinister claws and mandibles.

I'd seen similar automatons before, in my father's factories and in those of our competitors'. They were usually designed for use in shipyards or fisheries. Never before had I heard of them being used as combatants.

Answers would have to wait.

As the revelers screamed and ran for the exits, masked priests rushed at the machines, using their censers as improvised flails. A brave but futile effort. Razor-sharp claws lashed out, slicing through robes and severing limbs.

Terror roiled deep within me, for I had never witnessed such violence firsthand. I'd read detailed firsthand accounts of soldiers at the front, heard stories from survivors of bloody riots, but no story could compare to witnessing bloodshed up close.

Fear, however, did not immobilize me completely.

I gripped my choker and tore free the amethysts. Turning them over revealed glowing red runes. A tap on the symbols activated the clockwork devices hidden within the gems. The amethysts shattered, revealing a few small, golden, beetle-shaped automatons.

I'd spent years tinkering with those little things in the hopes of contributing to the family business, and had tested them in my workshop over and over again.

They'd yet to be tested in the field.

Now seemed an apt opportunity.

Another tap on the runes activated the razorflies, unfurling their gleaming wings and sending them slicing through the air towards the nearest machine. They buzzed about, their sharp wings slicing into the mandibles and claws of the crab-machines. One razorfly flew right into the clockwork underbelly of a machine and detonated, blowing the hostile automaton apart from within.

"Come on!" someone shouted, grabbing my shoulder.

Gripped by fear and confusion, I kicked at his leg, sending my would-be savior pitching the floor. A moment later I was on my feet and sprinting through the fading red mist.

The surge of panicking revelers and cultists hampered my escape. We all piled up at the door, screaming and pushing against one another until the hinges ruptured and the door fell outwards.

Outside, the half-collapsed stables of the abandoned manor burned. Dead priests and automatons were sprawled out before the rusted gate. Three blood-spattered crab-machines skittered over the dead towards us.

I caught sight of one of my own guardian automatons just beyond the gate, swarmed by smaller variants of those same crab-automatons.

Some of the revelers screamed and rushed back inside. Knowing better than to rush back towards the other attackers, I sprinted past the burning stables. Panting and sputtering, I lunged for the low stone wall and clambered over the top.

The burly mainlander burst from the manor, wielding a severed claw like a blade. Alongside him was the man who'd just been about to fuck me. He wielded a small table as a makeshift shield, using it to cover the frantic retreat of the other supplicants.

Perhaps they were not involved in the attack. That didn't exactly mean they were innocent, though. From the mainlander's tone, it seemed he'd known of some possible danger.

I wasn't about to linger to ask for answers.

I tumbled over the stone wall, then screamed as my bare feet landed in a patch of thorns. As I limped down the hill, another automaton skittered over the top of the wall.

Cursing and sobbing, I continued my awkward retreat, my eyes affixed on the cliff's edge only a few dozen feet away. If I could make it to the cliff, I could dive down into the water below and make a break for it.