Mistress of the Air Ch. 18

Victoria was left to tidy up the damage whilst Lady Sally retired for a relaxing bath. The bishop, despite one or two burn marks from fragments of hot copper had, more or less, survived his ordeal at the hands of the steam-driven rubber phallus.

After Lady Sally had bathed and changed, it was time for dinner. Despite cook's protestations, she managed to present a palatable meal. The whole party, famished by adventures and explosions, wolfed down their food heartily. Admittedly the trifle was a jumble, resembling an Eton mess, but then no-one was going to argue with any combination of jelly, custard and cream, however presented.

"We've entered into the airspace of the Russian Empire," explained Captain Wyndham over dinner. "That means we're safe from any reprisals from the Prussian military. In the current climate, to send an airship fleet into Russia to pursue you might provoke a war."

"Oh really. How amazing to have a war fought over one," commented Lady Sally.

"What's our next destination, madam?"

"We are going to the forests in the environs of St Petersburg to visit another of my uncles, Count Clitovsky."

Victoria rolled her eyes, "Not another mad uncle?"

"No certainly not. Count Clitovsky is a most welcoming and jovial fellow; he's my favourite uncle. If you recall, you met him when I visited in '07 on my way to Samarkand."

"Oh yes, I remember," Victoria acknowledged, then turning to the captain continued, "did you know that madam is descended from a Samarkand courtesan?"

"It's not your place to divulge such information, maid," she scolded. "But, yes that's true. I should add I'm proud of my ancestry. She seduced the third Earl of Rudston and ended up marrying him. I see no shame in having such roots. Indeed, I believe her exotic, silk route blood runs in my veins."

Having had an explosive day, Lady Sally decided they should retire to bed.

The Corseted Domme, was left in the control of her automaton co-pilot for the night, along with one of the rigger-men, who was on watch in case the captain was needed. Fortunately, it was an uneventful night as the huge dirigible ploughed over the Russian Steppes, and then in a north-easterly direction.

The next morning, Lady Sally brought Borghild out to play again. The captain had recharged her battery cells with lumiferous aether and wound her clockwork mechanisms up so she was now in full working order.

Lady Sally conducted the morning as a training session for her automaton sex-toy. She demonstrated how to secure buckles and tie knots so Borghild could assist with putting her slaves into bondage. It was hard work at first as the complex movements were not easy to transfer from the photographic cells in her eyes to the mechanical parts of the automaton. But, with practise, the skill of Borghild at even deft and difficult actions was remarkable.

Using her submissive gentlemen as guinea pigs, the automation was able to refine the movements of her rubber mouth and vagina. The men enjoyed the experience far more than was good for them, but Lady Sally decided to indulge them for the sake of her automaton. By the end of the session, much spunk had been spilled in the interests of training her assistant. The result was double the trouble, double the punishment and, therefore, double the fun and sadistic satisfaction for Lady Sally.

By the time they were descending over the dense forests on the outskirts of St Petersburg, it was tea time, which was perfect. Lady Sally, being familiar with the terrain, went to the front of the gondola to help the captain guide the airship. She pointed out a clearing in the woods where a mooring mast stood out.

It was a tricky landing, as the captain had to navigate the airship low over the trees without touching them, and then manoeuvre her into a space not designed for an airship on the scale of The Corseted Domme.

They had arrived at Glansnikov, the summer residence of Lady Sally's uncle, Count Clitovsky. This was his country estate, a seasonal residence or dacha as it was known locally. The count's palace was in Moscow, but he resorted here in the summer to get away from the court life of the Russian Empire. Although called a palace, the residence was a summer hunting lodge, and nothing like as grand as Shloss Schmegabaum or Schloss Charlottenberg.

Once they'd disembarked, they were greeted warmly by Count Clitovsky and his Siberian husky dogs. He gave his niece an enormous and heartfelt hug.

Count Clitovsky was a short, round man with a bushy black beard dressed in a peasant style tunic with an enormous bear-skin hat on his head, even though it was far too warm for a fur hat.

"It's wonderful to see you again, my dear. Hopefully, now you have your new airship you'll be able to visit your uncle more regularly."

"Yes, I hope so, uncle. The captain's been flying at 120 mph to get here on time."

He pulled a fob watch from his pocket and checked the time.

"Ah yes, 3.30 pm exactly. I know my niece. She's arrived just in time for tea. Don't worry, my dear, the samovar has been boiled up for you."

"Thank you, uncle. I'm ready for a good brew."

"Are you enjoying your travels?"

"Oh yes, uncle. Mostly it's been wonderful, though I've had one or two horrid experiences. I got served coffee in Vienna. Can you believe it, uncle? Coffee!" she exclaimed in disgust.

"Oh, those Viennese are just not cultured."

"I will give you an account of my adventures over tea," said Lady Sally as they strolled along a forest path to Count Clitovsky's wooden lodge.

There are many countries where partaking of afternoon tea is not merely the consumption of a drink, but a ritual. Lady Sally had instilled her own peculiarly English tea-time traditions at Rudston Hall, but Russia was another place where tea was taken very seriously. Indeed, the count had a whole room in the lodge devoted to it, and it was to this place they resorted.

The room's centrepiece was the samovar. This was a giant cylindrical boiler in silver engraved with the Clitovsky coat-of-arms, which consisted principally of an upright black bear with a cup in its paw, drinking tea. The samovar had an elaborate base, cylinder, steam vent, cover and tap, in silver. The coals had been heated in anticipation of Lady Sally's arrival, and the samovar was bubbling with boiling water.

Count Clitovsky filled a silver tea pot with black leaves and poured boiling water into it from the samovar. Although Lady Sally was gasping, she appreciated these matters could not be rushed, and that patience was required for the perfect cup.

"What blend of tea are you using, uncle?" she enquired.

"Ah, it's a blend of Keemun and Yunnan, as well as Lapsang Souchong from my favourite niece's own tea plantation."

She waited patiently for the tea to brew for precisely the right time before the count poured the dark fluid in each cup. The guests, which on this occasion included her maid, the captain and the four gentlemen, were invited to top up the tea with boiling water from the tap in the samovar according to their tastes.

"Absolutely delicious," enthused Lady Sally. "One must never rush the preparation of tea. It is Russian Caravan tea, is it not?"

"What's that, madam?" enquired the captain, feeling more at ease in Count Clitovsky's lodge than the grand palaces.

"It's called Russian Caravan Tea because it's been transported along the silk route, and on their journey the leaves acquire the flavour of the camp fires. This is why it has a smoked flavour.

"Yes, that's absolutely right," confirmed the count.

"Ah, this is wonderful," Lady Sally sighed. "It's good to be in the company of friends. But my word, uncle, we've had such alarms and excitement over the last days."

She proceeded to tell her uncle about her adventures in great detail, culminating in the dramatic escape from the Prussian Empire.

"It's terrible," the count reacted after Lady Sally completed her account. "I'm disgusted by the behaviour of Archduke Hardonberg, but then I've not been on good terms with my brother for many years. It's not helped by the state of the world. We're aware here in Russia that the Prussian Empire has been arming itself, and your account has confirmed the state of things. I fear war is afoot, niece, and I don't know how it can be stopped."

"And how will the Russian Empire fare if it came to that?"

"We're ill-prepared. We are backward in technological advances; we have no electrical devices, we have not mastered the use of aether, we have no foundries, no munitions works, and no airship fleet to speak of. Look at your magnificent flying machine. That technology is beyond us."

"But The Corseted Domme is a vehicle built entirely for pleasure, uncle," Lady Sally pointed out forcefully.

"There is political discord everywhere in the Russian Empire. I know there's talk of revolution and, as you know, niece, despite my standing, I have sympathies with them. Indeed, I secretly harbour anarchists here at Glansnikov."

"You have anarchists here? How intriguing."