Lucidia's Cock Ch. 01

~ A note from Cornucopia: This was supposed to be a quick love story about pretty lips, a thick cock, and a match-making phantom that could bring them together. And then, like magic, it was well over the length I like for a story. So I'm going to split it into two parts. Here is the first: ~

Corvyn sat alone, naked and freshly washed. He sharpened a razor with a troubled frown. The metal blade shone stark red as it slid to and fro across the leather strop, reflecting the light of early dawn that shone through the round windows of the bathhouse. The shafts of red refracted the water and bled upon the mosaic tilework in a deep violet.

Lips were on his mind. Her lips. So full. So sexy.

The phantom thoughts had echoed around him all night. Ever since that dinner.

Such a pretty mouth. Such pretty white teeth. Such plush lips.

That dinner where, much like countless other evenings, Corvyn waited upon his countess and her guest.

***

Lucidia, Countess of the estate at which Corvyn was headservant, was enjoying a dinner with a friend, the Baroness VinClaire. Corvyn and one of his subordinates, a younger girl who had proven herself among the manor's staff, attended to the noble ladies as they enjoyed one another's company.

And the whole time, Corvyn was enchanted with the sight of his countess.

She is gorgeous. Enthralling eyes. Soft, moist lips.

The thoughts swirled around him in dizzying circles.

You love those lips. Her lips. You love to watch her soft, moist lips.

And Corvyn would force those thoughts out. You are a headservant - the headservant - he reminded himself, willing himself into the rigid posture of a proud soldier: a zealot of homemakery. But the thoughts would slither back into his head:

A servant is just a slave.

That last one puzzled him.

You are her slave.

Though the thought did not perturb him. There was truth in it.

***

The razor was thoroughly sharpened. Corvyn set the strop down and watched the light of dawn creep across the pool as the sun rose.

Peasants from the village would be heading to the fields and workshops at this hour. Women-at-arms would be switching shifts. The manor staff would be gathering for their breakfast. They were all servants, but not like Corvyn: they had families, close friends, and homes away from the manor and its responsibilities.

But you only have her.

And that thought was comforting in a way.

You love her.

It warmed his heart.

You are her devoted slave.

It hardened his cock. Just like that dinner...

***

Phantom thoughts buzzed in his ears as he watched Lucidia speak and eat. VinClaire was seated facing away from Corvyn. She had golden hair done in lavish braided buns, showing off the flawless dark flesh of her neck.

The servant at his side had quietly whispered to him, "the Baroness is so delightfully pretty, isn't she?"

Corvyn made no inclination of hearing her. He didn't even roll his eyes, though we wanted to. Corvyn would never break the role of perfect servant. As the headservant, the presentation of his service was a point of pride; and as a male houseservant, it was a necessity for continued employment, as Corvyn had great expectations to live up to.

Many wondered why the countess would elect a man to lead her manor staff. Lucidia was not particularly progressive and showed no inkling of interest in the vogue imperial fancy of "phallo-synergetic stewardship." Many attributed it to a mimicry of her late mother, who also had a man for a headservant. He served her with graceful fervor, even in old age. The manservant cared for Lucidia with as much devotion as he did for her mother; and in return, after the grief of her mother's passing was labored through, the new countess gave him a comfortable retirement in a quiet villa.

There were rumors, to be sure. And the rumors practically boiled over when Corvyn, just one of many young men in the hierarchy of the manor staff, was hand-picked by the countess to be her most important servant.

It frightened him. The promotion made him go pale. He was quite happy where he was: one cog in the invisible machine that kept all shelves dusted, candles lit, clocks aligned, books balanced, livestock fed, fields plowed...

And other men wanted to be headservant, eager to retrace the steps of the old man in the villa. Men older than Corvyn and more charming; men Lucidia's age.

He couldn't refuse. Not because it was a momentous opportunity for one in his station. Not because it was the dream of many other peasants in the county. But merely because he could see - in her eyes, in her study, smiling at him from her desk - she likes you.

Corvyn lived up to the expectations. He was a case-study in phallo-synergetic stewardship: "a man, properly led, can lead exceptionally for you," touted the honorary sisters, the academics at the Imperial universities. And Lucidia had led Corvyn with minimal intervention.

You must serve her. You adore her.

The thoughts were silent murmurs at first, haunting him through the old rooms of the manor. They pooled in his soul and became a part of him.

You must care for her. She is very important to you.

He shrugged away the prattle of the female staff. He disciplined man-servants larger and stronger than him.

She is your everything.

Any deficit in his knowledge or ability was accounted for with admirable dexterity.

You live to serve her. You are a good slave.

The room was nice. The pay was nice. Not having to toil in the fields or the kitchen or the workshops - nice. But the greatest joy was in reviewing the happenings of the day to his countess. Book in hand, ready to retire, she would look up from her desk, smile softly, and tell him "good work."

There was something about those words - the way her mouth embraced the "O."

Good slave. You are the best slave.

As of late, Lucidia's face was everything. At that dinner, he was staring. And it was uncouth to stare. But he just couldn't help himself.

You love her lips. Soft. Full. Perfect. Wet...

When the countess drank from her cup, he envied the wine that poured over her tongue. As she ate, he longed to be the spoon that was pressed clean by her lips.

Such a sexy mouth.

VinClaire was nothing next to the countess. The servant beside him was a silly one. He would reprimand her after dinner, he thought. "Guests in this household are to be served with respect, not gawked at like wild birds," he would tell her. Until then, he would remain quietly at attention, enjoying the splendor of watching Lucidia's smile and voice as she-

You want to fuck her mouth.

He went pale. Such a guttural thought! Who was he to have such a base-

Your cock yearns to penetrate her lips.

Corvyn gasped. The servant girl heard this and glanced sideways at him. He appeared undisturbed. His visage was trained to withstand the many stresses of-

You want to slide your hard cock along her tongue.

His eyes twitched, widening. Something slid up and down his inner thigh.

Your cock needs her mouth.

By God! A ghastly tingle went along his groin, as though an ethereal hand was petting over his cock, right through his trousers!

Such moist, wet, soft lips for your hot throbbing...

Corvyn willed his cock flaccid. He absolutely could not get erect, not at a private dinner between the countess and one of her close-

Your cock belongs in her mouth.

The phantom hands relentlessly caressed his crotch, stirring his cock and balls. Why was this happening to him?

Your cum belongs in her throat.

Her eyes met his. God, no! She kept speaking, laughing at her friend's endless anecdotes, but her eyes narrowed in concern. Her tongue darted out, sliding over her upper lip to unconsciously wipe away a spot of stray sauce.

Oh god - his cock! It wasn't fully erect, but it was-

Hard for her. Only for her.

The trousers. He felt the tightness in his trousers. No doubt, the bulge could be seen by-. If only those damned phantom tingles would-

Hard, horny slave. Horny slave for her warm, wet, sexy, fuckable, thirsty...

And then, Lucidia's lips tightened in a concerned "O."

That O.

Oh God, that incredible O!

No! What was he thinking!? Why now!? Why-

Cock. Cum. Slave's cock cums. Slave's cock for her lips. Slave's cum for her tongue. Cums in her mouth. Her throat. Slave's cum in her throat...

"Cream," he hissed.

"What?" The servant was startled.

"The ladies need cream. And tea. Cream and tea," he pressed, seamlessly lowering his tone into a calm command, "and sweets. Look at their plates. Can't you see they are almost finished with their meals? Come. Come! I'll help you."

The two silently glid across the room, giving the countess and her friend a curtsy before leaving.

Lucidia's thoughtful gaze lingered on the door. Corwyn had waited on countless dinners with her, many like this one, in this cozy little room. From her peripheral vision, over hours spread over years, she had seen the boy mature and flourish as her headservant. But that night, she had looked at him, and saw the man he had grown into. His eyes, and then-

His cock...

***

Corvyn methodically shaved the pubic hair around the base of his shaft. It helped that he was fully erect.

Must not damage slave cock.

He was battling this erection since that dinner. The night was spent trying to will the hard-on away. He managed to contain it, but never fully exercised it.

He set down the razor and began working at his stubble with a pumice stone.

Smooth. Smooth all around.

Masturbation was futile. In the past, he'd just relieve his urges thinking of one of the servant girls. Or, if a lady like the Baronness VinClaire happened by, he would bask in the fantasy of pulling up her petticoat and burying his face between her soft charcoal thighs. But he couldn't stop thinking of Lucidia.

Lucidia's mouth. Lucidia's eyes.

And he couldn't do such a vile thing as defiling his countess in his debauched, perverted male stroke-dreams.

He looked at his hard dick with loathing, finished with the task of grooming himself. But then he looked at the razor, strop, and pumice stone and raised his eyebrow in perplexity.

Why did he feel the need to completely shave his cock and balls?

***

Lucidia drummed her fingers upon her desk as she stared blankly at a candle. A servant girl was standing before her, reading aloud a story from an old manuscript. She recited each line with earnest enthusiasm, giving emotion to the narration and personality to the dialogue, putting on a one-woman play for her countess. But the performance elicited no response from the audience, which seemed so preoccupied by the small flame of the candle on her desk. Preoccupied by-

That cock...

So much so that, when the servant's girl voice trailed off into silence, it took Lucidia whole moments to notice the interruption.

"I'm sorry, Danielle, I seem to have forgotten my manners tonight," the countess said with a tired smile.

"I take no offense, my lady," the servant answered, "does my reading bore you? You have requested this tale often as of late."

"No, no - you are the best reader, be sure of that. I'm just-. That poem, 'The Golden Lady and the Thief.' My mother and I used to sit and hear it often."

"I see. Would you like to hear another poem? I know many other tales of love akin to 'Golden Lady.'"

"No, no. I-. My mind has been burdened lately, and that tale is like a song to me: its meter and chapters help me catch and sort through my thoughts."

The servant nodded in understanding. "You are thinking of your mother?"

Lucidia chewed on her lower lip and glanced to the side.

That was Corvyn's cock.

The thought oscillated from one ear to the other.

Cock. Cock. Cock.

"Yes," Lucidia lied, "it often feels as though she's still here, does it not?"

Danielle looked up at the large portrait hanging behind Lucidia. It was of a woman in her later years, embellished with red lips on her long, flat mouth and pointed cheeks as though she were in her prime, her chin raised in a noble (and not overly haughty) gaze of pride upon the viewer. The old countess: Lucidia's late mother.

"There are marks of her reign here, yes," the servant said with a smile.

Lucidia allowed herself a chuckle. The halls of the manor echoed with the voice of her mother. Was it latent grief?

"Perhaps I might read," Danielle offered cautiously, "'Theryndia's Seedlings?'''

Lucidia cocked an eyebrow at the servant. She knew that tale well: in it a flower maiden dies after planting three seeds; one seedling grows, ventures away from the corpse of her mother, gets blown away by the wind, and dies upon arid ground; the second reveres her dead mother, remains in the shadow of her mother's corpse, languishes, and dies; the third plants roots upon the corpse of her mother, thrives in the sun, and laments the death of her sisters.

"You know how I hate allegories. Especially the blunt ones. And especially the ones I resonate with."

The two shared a grin.

"But you know," Danielle went on, "there is allegory in love poems as well."

"Oh, is there now?"

"Yes, Countess. Roll your eyes if you please, but does it not strike you that the erotic thrill of 'Golden Lady' is the seduction of a pagan goddess by the chief of a gang of lowly outlaws? That the excitement of the climax is that same brigand becoming an upstanding man of culture through the radiance of his divine lover?"

Lucidia groaned and rubbed her brow. Her thoughts locked back onto-

Corvyn's cock.

And the implications of having him as her headservant.

Like a slave boy. A slave boy with a hot, thick-

"For God's sake," Lucidia sighed, "how bad are the rumors, Danielle?"

The servant giggled. "No rumors, just wishful thinking. You know how young girls are among our staff, Countess. Blossoming with energy. Frustrated with the rustic quiet of manor life. They live vicariously through the fantasies they project onto others."

"Mm," Lucidia murmured, "I suppose I should be flattered to be the heroine of so many young girls' imaginations."

"Well," Danielle said with a decadent smile, "I believe they are far more fascinated with the partner of that heroine."

A scowl formed on Lucidia's face. She leaned forward, her voice a whisper.

Cock. Cock. Cock.

"Has Corvyn been-"

Yes! Just imagine that dick of his thrusting into the cunt of some young slut, her dress up around her waist - he's got his arms wrapped around her thighs, holding her legs up and apart as he fucks her - taking her like the virile fiend of a man he is! Just thrusting and grunting and thrusting and grunting and...

She couldn't finish the sentence. Her hands gripped the table as her waist, thighs, calves, and ass went rigid. It was like a single finger ran along her cunt, running over the hood of her clit and sliding against her lips. Angry lust throbbed in her temples. If that ungrateful little man was using his post as an opportunity to-

Yours! He's your servant boy. That's your cock! He must know your authority!

Your cock. Your cock. Your cock! Cock! Cock! Cock! Co-

"C-countess!?"

Lucidia looked up at the frightened face of her servant. She then became aware of the heat in her cheeks. With a long, deep breath, she willed the crimson flush to dissipate from her face.

"Has Corvyn been 'abusing' his post, Danielle?"

The countess' voice was eerily calm.

"No, no," Danielle quickly yelped, still perturbed by the strange flash of passion she witnessed in Lucidia.

"No," she repeated, smiling as the ludicrous thought of Corvyn being lecherous played out in her imagination, "God, no! Ah, countess, that's a lighthearted tale if I ever hear one: Corvyn abusing anything - hilarious!"

Lucidia settled back in her chair. "Corvyn is a virtuous superior to you all, then?"

"Quite so, Countess, quite so," Danielle laughed, "stubbornly virtuous. Daily your girls give him all sorts of looks and comments - you've seen how rowdy we can be, on holiday and such - and it's mostly for amusement among themselves, but there is truth in their jest, for he is a handsome young man (plus: a handsome man of authority); nevertheless, our stalwart Corvyn politely rejects all temptation thrown at him."

Lucida stared off into the distance as she listened. She did have a feeling about Corvyn when she picked him out to replace her mother's beloved headservant: the boy had a refreshingly simple honesty to him. But if he were really so proprietous, why had she seen him-

...thick, warm dick straining against those tight slender pants...

"Though I may give him too much credit," Danielle added after a moment of reflection.

"What do you mean?"

"He is occasionally a bit awkward in his rejections."

"Awkward?"

"Yes," the servant slowly went on, looking to the side in thought, "I can tell he is flustered. As though he's-"

Danielle paused, juggling empty air as she searched for the word.

"--Inexperienced, I suppose."

An odd look came over Lucidia. "Inexperienced?"

"Yes, there's just no other way to put it," Danielle shrugged.

The countess mouthed the words to herself. Inexperienced.

A virgin.

"May I tell you something, Countess?" Danielle asked with a gleeful smile.

A virgin cock.

Lucidia blinked and looked up at her servant. "What?"

"It's a bit of a, well, lascivious fact, but..."

A virgin cock!

"...on more than one occasion, I have seen Corvyn particularly affected by the advances of the girls, where he walks away from them so briskly, and with such a color upon his face..."

Lucidia's chest rose and fell as she listened intently to Danielle.

"...and disappears for roughly half an hour. Well, one time, I was compelled to follow him out of curiosity..."

Untainted. Untamed. So simple and innocent.

"...and tailed him to a side room. In his haste he had left the door ajar. And I confess, Countess, that I couldn't help myself and..."