Crimson Clockwork Pt. 03/03

According to the servants on duty, my parents were at the office negotiating an acquisition.

Their absence gave me enough time to scrub myself clean of the sweat and lingering blood from the rescue.

By the time they returned, I was clad in a nightgown, sipping brandy and listening to one of my favorite albums on the phonograph in the sitting room.

"Darling!" my mother said warmly. "How was the meeting in Urvport?"

I blinked, having forgotten all about the ruse my father had proposed. As much as I wanted to tell her the truth, I didn't wish to incite any rage against my father. The full truth of recent events could come out later, perhaps after my father and I had a chance to coordinate a defense.

"Dreary and boring, as every trip to Urvport is," I said, rising and giving her a peck on the cheek.

"All that boredom must have worn you out, darling. You look utterly exhausted."

My father lingered behind her, his lips quivering, his eyes nearly watering. Clearing his throat, he glanced away and wiped at his eyes before my mother noticed.

"Welcome back, Lyneth," he said with a slow nod. "I...I hope everything went as planned. And I am glad you are home. So, so glad."

Brushing past my mother, he wrapped me in such a fierce embrace that I was worried my mother might suspect something. After squeezing me for so long that I nearly struggled to breathe, he murmured into my ear.

"I love you, Lyneth. And I am so proud."

I kissed him on the cheek and took in a deep breath to ward off my tears.

"As much as I want to just sink into bed and sleep for a few days, I do fear there is some more work I must tend to."

Fear erased the relief in my father's eyes.

"Nothing too serious," I said quickly. "Just a few loose ends to tie up from the potential purchases in Urvport. And I promised Miklos I'd meet him for tea at some point."

"Oh!" said my mother, giving a little giddy clap of her hands. "How delightful. He is such a charming man, and his family is so well-connected. A good man to keep close."

Her giddy reaction was no surprise, as she'd been harassing me about Miklos as a potential match for half of my life.

Usually, I'd disabuse my mother of such notions, but chose to allow her to revel in that particular delusion. It would serve to distract her from the truth of the matter.

**

Later that afternoon, I sat within the rooftop garden of a little teahouse close to Miklos' offices at the Chamber of Internal Security. As I waited for Miklos to arrive, I stared at the gleaming towers of the city and replayed the horrific events of the past few weeks.

Echoes of the manor attack rippled through my mind. Illusory gunshots rang out, leaving my ears ringing. The lifeless body of that man I'd shot lingered in the corners of my vision.

"Lyneth," said a familiar voice, nearly jolting me out of my seat. "I'm glad you're safe and sound."

Miklos sat down across from me, offering a strained smile.

"How long does it take?" I murmured. "For...the wounds of the mind to turn to scars? And for the scars to fade?"

"Gods' graves, was it that bad?"

"I'm sure it was trivial compared to the horrors of the war. But..." I swallowed. "It was certainly not pleasant."

"It's hard to say, Lyneth. For me, the nightmares stopped after a few months. But there are still flickers. Reminders." He took off his spectacles, fiddling with his them as he spoke. "There's a very particular whistle they use at certain transit towers that is the exact same pitch of the whistles they utilized to command us to go over the top of the trenches. Every damned time I hear it, I swear I can taste the mud and smell the gunpowder again."

He cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea.

"But on the whole...it gets better. You get stronger. More adept at dealing with it."

We sat in silence for a time, as I pondered exactly how long it would take for me to grow 'adept.'

"What did you learn?" he asked, staring off in the distance over my shoulder.

After a long sip of tea, I conveyed to him everything that had occurred, to include all we'd learned about the cult from the prisoners we'd taken.

"By the dead gods, Lyneth." He finally met my gaze again. "Impressive work. And I'm grateful it happened out at sea. Less of a mess for me to clean up."

"But you will take the prisoners into custody, yes?"

"Of course. The Chamber will have some very pointed questions for them. I'll need to find out if they are the last of their order, or if there are more hidden in the shadows elsewhere."

"I'm sure there will be. Given the extent of their activities in the war, a dozen cultists aboard a single ship cannot be all of them."

"Unfortunately, I agree. But that is a crisis for me to tackle. Not you." He gave me a slight frown. "Unless you plan on continuing your own little private crusade."

"I am not sure."

As terrifying as that raid on the ship had been, I couldn't simply sit back and allow that cult to persist and hurt others. However, I also had to consider the fact that I had neglected my duties to the family business over the past few weeks. It would take immense time and effort to make up for my absence.

"I know I won't be able to convince you to stand down. But whatever you decide...please be safe."

We both knew I couldn't promise that. Even supporting my lovers from the shadows would pose its own risks.

That, however, was a burden to bear later. For the moment, I just sat in silence and tried my hardest to enjoy the tea.

**

The next few days were a frenzy of activity completely unrelated to our hunt. During my absence, I'd missed several meetings with shareholders and design staff, forcing me to scramble to make up for lost time. I was busier during those few days than I'd been during our investigation across the city, though my mind constantly drifted back to my lovers and the state of Matyar.

After a long, meeting-filled day during which I managed to handle the crises unleashed by my absence, I finally made my way to the hotel where my lovers had holed up.

Upon my insistence, I'd rented a suite for them in the Redgarden District, which was a marked improvement from their cots in my workshop and the humble berths aboard theErrant Sword.

When I slipped into the suite, I found Istvan and Cymkor seated at a table, playing a game of lorkaa, just as they had the night we met.

"How is Matyar?" I asked, greeting my lovers with a warm smile.

"Much better. Over the past few days he's eaten enough to feed a damned platoon. The doctor and the alchemist gave him a clean bill of health, too. He still won't be fit to run off on any adventures anytime soon, though," said Istvan.

"He deserves the respite. You all do. Where is he now?"

"Sketching birds out on the balcony."

After giving both men a kiss on the cheek, I headed out to find Matyar on the balcony. He had a sketchbook open before him, displaying wondrously accurate renditions of the songbirds that flitted within the trees of the park across the street.

The color had returned to his face and his eyes were no longer bloodshot. The soft wind rustled through his short, dark curls. He looked to have put on a few pounds and was no longer as gaunt as he'd been aboard the ship.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all," he said, returning to his work. "It's nice to have a change of pace from those two brave fools trying to play nursemaid."

After a soft laugh, I remained silent for a time, admiring the birds and his deft recreations of them upon the page.

"You've quite a knack for that. You know, my father's company is always on the lookout for artists to draw up blueprints and advertisements."

His chuckle mingled with the chirping of the birds across the street.

"That sounds like an ideal way to settle down. If I make it another ten years, I might take you up on that offer."

"You still plan to continue the hunt, then."

"Of course. That was just one cell we defeated. Who knows how many more there are?"

"Well, I shall support your endeavors however I can. Perhaps not by...taking part in raids at your side, though." I swallowed. "I am not sure I could handle another one."

"Good," he murmured. "You've already risked so much on my behalf. If you got hurt, we wouldn't be able to forgive ourselves."

The wind rustled against the sketchbook, flipping the pages and exposing some of his other drawings. I blinked in surprise at one that looked quite familiar.

The page contained a sketch of me, clad in the skimpy dress I wore the night of the Rite. It was an near-perfect echo of the moment when I'd addressed the crowd of revelers.

Smiling, I reached out and snatched the sketchbook from him.

"I had to keep myself occupied when I was on bedrest for a few days," he said with a grin.

The next page showed a sketch of me pinned against the wall by Cymkor, my head leaning back, my mouth agape with pleasure. I licked my lips at the wondrous, wicked memories.

"You do have quite the talent," I murmured. "Perhaps...you should undertake erotic art as a career, instead of cult-hunting."

Matyar reached out, his fingers brushing against mine as he turned to the next page, which displayed me splayed out on a bench. The sketch didn't have as many details as the other drawings, but it was an obvious rendition of the time that Cymkor and Istvan had used me back in my workshop.

"Gods' graves...I assume they told you about this?"

"Aye. And I had no choice but to try to recreate it upon the page."

"You did a fine job of it," I murmured, my fingers brushing over the sketch.

After a moment of staring and recalling that wondrous evening, I gave Matyar a sly little grin.

"When you are sufficiently recovered, I should very much like to give you inspiration for future sketches."

He reached out, his fingers brushing over the depraved drawing within the book. A shiver went through me at the way he almost reverently caressed the page.

"No need to wait. Of course, I probably won't be as vigorous as usual but..." He glanced at the door that led back into the suite. "If my friends are there with me, I'm sure I could manage."

My desire had already been stoked by the sketches and it roared into a raging fire at his suggestion. Three of them at once. Gods' graves...

I swallowed, my lips quivering. Unable to find the words to offer a proper response, I gave my answer with a soft, gentle kiss. Murmuring at the taste of him, I reached up to run a hand through his short dark curls. As our tongues met, I nearly whimpered at the memory of how that tongue had worked against my sex during the Rite.

Without a word we rose. Hand in hand we walked back into the suite, where the other two were still engaged in their game oflorka.

"Let me get cleaned up, first," I murmured, brushing my fingers over Matyar's cheek. "Prepare yourself for me, Matyar. And once you and I have had our fun, we can bring in the others."

"That's assuming we aren't too busy with another game of lorkaa," Istvan said, not taking his eyes up from the game.

I gave him a fierce glare before sauntering to the washroom. After taking a few minutes to freshen myself up, I stepped back into the suite where those two were still playing their silly game.

Upon striding past, I reached out to bat one of their pieces away which earned me a playful swat on my backside from Cymkor.

Far too eager for Matyar's touch to delay and retaliate, I pressed on towards the bedroom.

Matyar was already nude: his lean form on full display, his cock already stiff and ready for me. Despite my raging need I nearly winced at the sight of his scars, including the freshest ones delivered by those cruel cultists. Other, older scars dotted his torso, likely mementos from his time at the front.

The hunger in those green eyes kept my ugly thoughts at bay, though.

Resolved to torment my other lovers further, I didn't bother to close the door. The young man crooked a finger at me and I slowly approached, standing at the foot of the bed.

After a moment of staring up at me, Matyar rose to help me undress but I batted his hands away.

"Relax, Matyar. You'll have plenty of work ahead of you, after all."

He obeyed, leaning back against the plush pillows, his green eyes watching as I undressed.

Appreciative murmurs and sighs left his lips as I bared myself to him. The reverence in his gaze brought to mind the wild hunger in the eyes of the supplicants back at the Rite. Shivering at the memories of those worshipful gazes, I tossed my silken shift to the side.

"Stay right there," I cooed.

My gentle fingers ran along his thighs, brushing near his cock but not quite taking hold. Though I was grateful for everything he'd done, I could still be a damnable tease when I wished. Soft kisses danced along his torso. My explorations brought me to his neck, which I licked and nuzzled at for a few moments, reveling in the soft moans he let out.

"Let me taste you," he muttered

Such urgency. Such need.

I licked his neck again and placed a soft kiss upon his cheek.

Rising, I braced my hands against the headboard as I gently lowered myself onto his face.

His hands rose, gripping my quaking buttocks. That wondrous tongue caressed my folds, exposing my clit before his lips suckled around it.

As he hummed and murmured against me, I glanced over my shoulder at the open doorway. Cymkor and Istvan sat at the central table, still immersed in their game oflorkaa. I would have laughed were it not for the thunderous moan that Matyar unleashed from me.

The wicked skill of that tongue and my abstinence over the past few days ensured I didn't last long. My nails scraped against the fine wood of the headboard; my quivering thighs pressed against his cheeks.

I whimpered his name and he replied with a hungry mumble. His hands tightened against my ass, keeping me steady as I threw my head back. The ache within my core exploded. The sensation turned my little whimpers into a sharp cry that would hopefully draw the attention of my other two lovers.

As delightful as Matyar's tongue was, I longed for more. I wanted to be worshiped and used, to have those three wondrous men plunder and please me.

I rocked my hips against Matyar's tongue, drawing out my bliss and keeping the embers burning. As the ringing in my ears faded, footsteps echoed around the bed.

Smiling, I looked over my shoulder to see that Istvan and Cymkor had finally joined us.

"Who won your game?" I asked, eyes fluttering at another suckle from Matyar.

"Cymkor," Istvan said, laughing. "But I suspect he lost deliberately so we could end it early and tend to you."

"Just for that," I cooed at Cymkor. "I think you should have your pick of which hole to use."

"I'll cede that to Matyar," he said with a chuckle. "I think he's earned that."

After a soft giggle and another moan, I lifted my sex from Matyar's grinning face.

"Your choice, Matyar."

"I've tasted that delicious cunt a few times now," he said, licking his lips. "Now I want to use it."

Shivering at the heat in his tone and gaze, I squirmed down to straddle him. Eyes boring down into his, I took hold of his shaft and guided it towards my sopping sex.

As Cymkor and Istvan undressed, I slipped the tip inside. Our simultaneous moans danced together to form one wondrous song.

With my hands braced against the fine sheets, I sank further down. The moment he had sheathed himself fully inside me, I pressed my lips to his, claiming another kiss.

Our soft, gentle, and lazy kiss continued for half a minute. Neither of us moved, both content to explore and nuzzle as I adjusted to the sensation of his shaft within me.

I only broke the kiss when I felt the bed shift. Glancing back, I saw that Cymkor had fully undressed and knelt behind me.

"Gods' graves," I muttered, both fearful and delighted by the prospect of that strong man plundering my ass.

Grinning, he ran a scarred hand up and down my back. Inspired by that soft touch, I began to rock up and down upon Matyar, one hand gripping his curls while he licked and nuzzled my neck.

Meanwhile Istvan crouched down on the bed not far from Matyar and I. After moaning beneath me, Matyar gently gripped my hair and guided my mouth over towards Istvan's prick.

I bobbed up and down, the pace of my mouth matching that of my hips. My muffled moans grew louder as Matyar slipped his fingers between my legs. He brushed over the moistened folds, caressing my clit with the same expertise he'd demonstrated with his tongue.

Cymkor smeared oil over my rear. I gasped around Istvan's cock as his fingers brushed against my hole, gently teasing and prodding at the tight ring.

Despite my rising need, Cymkor proved to be quite patient, taking nearly a full minute of easing me open before finally guiding his oil-soaked prick towards my ass.

"Come for us first," he growled. "Then I'll claim you."

"Yes," Istvan murmured. "Nice and loud. I want the whole hotel to hear you, even with your mouth muffled by my cock."

Those demands poured fuel on the fire. Rocking and writhing above Matyar, I did my best to maintain my efforts upon Istvan's cock. Breathing heavily through my nose, I was forced to break away for a moment to gulp in a deep breath, though my hand rose to stroke his slickened manhood.

I silenced my next cry by descending once more upon him, gurgling and whimpering against his pulsating shaft. Matyar reached up and grabbed the back of my neck, steadying me.

Gods' graves, the way those men could coordinate and use me...

And Cymkor hadn't even truly joined in yet, and was still just teasing me with the crown of his cock, not even a half an inch inside my ass.

My neck burned with the effort of bobbing up and down on Istvan. An ache rippled out from my clit and through my core, turning my thighs to jelly and setting my lungs ablaze. Drool and pre-cum leaked from my lips, dripping onto the fine sheets. My eyes fluttered and my vision blurred.

Desperate and nearly broken, I went still. My hips ceased their urgent rocking against Matyar; my mouth remained affixed around the tip of Istvan's cock, unable to take him any deeper.

I came.

My tongue lashed upon Istvan as the fire consumed me. Choked sobs rippled against his cock, and those desperate sounds shifted to a muffled cry as Cymkor finally tilted his hips and claimed my ass.

I went limp against Matyar, helpless and consumed by the sensations inflicted by those three wondrous, wicked men. With my head tilted to the side, I barely kept the tip of Istvan's cock in my mouth. Unable to move or rock back against either of the men inside me, I simply embraced the helplessness and took everything they could give.

I was a toy be used. A gift upon an altar of lust.

Matyar steadied me with one hand, the other still teasing against my clit while Cymkor worked against my ass. With one hand in my hair, Istvan kept the tip of his cock between my heaving lips while he stroked his lower shaft, working fervently to bring forth the offering that I craved.

To my surprise, Cymkor came first, his domineering growls breaking down into low, shaking moans. Thick hands gripped my quivering hips as his seed spurted deep inside my ass. His thrusts slowed but did not cease, keeping his prick inside me and allowing Matyar to take control once again.

The wiry man bucked up against me, his fingers still working. That wondrous touch reduced me to a sputtering, whimpering mess. My eyes watered, ruining my makeup and blurring my vision. I could barely see Istvan's hungry eyes as he continued to stroke himself.

Matyar murmured something to Cymkor, though I was too delirious to decipher it. The big man withdrew from my ass, causing me to whimper in needy protest. That whimper turned into an outright sob when he gripped my hips and pulled me off of Matyar completely. The fierce movement likewise tore me away from Istvan's cock.