The Adventures of Penny Dreadful

"How went your assignment last evening?" she said, "I heard you return, but thought it best to let you sleep."

"Thank you, Roxanne," said Penny, with a smile of remembrance, "it went... swimmingly."

"Have you ought to convey to Miss Burlington? You might place a telephonic communication."

"No, I think not. I shall write a report once I have dressed. Martin can deliver it by hand to Dulwich. It is the safest way."

Once Penny was dressed, and Martin despatched with the record of her introduction to Count von Lipschitz, she progressed through to the parlour, and there she saw the remaining pyramid of paper left to digest. Her shoulders slumped, her prior exhilaration extinguished by the memory of her uncle's vile letter. Upon joining Penny, Roxanne too seemed a trifle downcast at the ongoing chore.

"It can't be helped, I suppose, miss," she said, resigned.

"No, Roxanne, it can't. But I think that we might approach it more intelligently," said Penny, secretly desirous of steering Roxanne from any further degenerate communication such as she had encountered the day before. Roxanne waited for Penny to expound her conception.

"My uncle was engaged confidentially in our affair, and furthermore, was perhaps further along in his understanding of it than we," explained Penny, "so, were you he, would you not hide your evidence more completely than in a pile of papers?"

Roxanne stared, a light of understanding breaking upon her, and then both women began to cast their eyes around the parlour, each pondering where they themselves would secrete papers of the most confidential nature.

"You have more experience in these affairs than I, do you not?" said Penny.

"Indeed, and Violetta... Miss Burlington, has trained me thoroughly in the more clandestine nature of the work," said Roxanne.

"Then perhaps you might conduct a search of any place you think would suffice as a hiding place, whilst I continue with the papers in the chance that my uncle was not so fastidious in the concealment of any intelligence he gleaned."

So, Roxanne set to work, using her training to ferret out any nooks or crannies or hidden places, examining them for secret papers. Her scrutiny failed to achieve any success, but as there was none guaranteed she continued her work in good heart. Penny, meanwhile, forced herself through the papers, dreading lest the next she chose would replicate the foul fantasies she had found detailed the previous day. But here, too, there was no such thing, and each paper, each page of journal, was blessedly mundane.

The day wore on, with a short break for luncheon, and already the sun was descending westwards when Roxanne halted by the parlour window, looking down upon the square, when she suddenly cried out, calling for Penny. Upon joining Roxanne, and fearful lest some mischance was abroad, Penny followed her gaze and saw, drawing to a halt beneath them, an Arnold Motor Carriage.

Penny had never seen a motor car before, and that alone would have been an excitement, but to then see Miss Violetta Burlington actually driving the vehicle, with Martin Proudstaff seated uncomfortably on the rearward facing seat was simply astounding. Miss Burlington looked up at Penny and Roxanne and gave them a cheery wave, ignoring the passers-by in the square whose attention was equally divided into admiration for the vehicle, and dismay at Miss Burlington being the operator.

Moments later Roxanne showed Miss Burlington into the parlour, whilst Martin stumbled to the kitchen for a restorative brandy. She was beaming at the expressions on Penny and Roxanne's faces, impishly buoyant at transgressing the expected, her zest giving her the appearance of one whose cares have been temporarily forgotten. That effect suited her, and both Penny and Roxanne saw a glimpse of the girl, before she became the woman tasked with the cares of Empire.

"Isn't it wonderful," laughed Miss Burlington, "I learned from Mrs Bazalgette, and I have promised her I will accompany her in the forthcoming Motor Car Club race from London to Brighton."

"You seem most exhilarated, Violetta," said Penny.

"Oh, I am, I am, though I believe your man is marginally less thrilled," said Miss Burlington, with a glint in her eye, "but forgive me, I would discuss the future with you, Penny."

"The future?"

"Penny, I'm not certain you have considered quite how wealthy you are," said Miss Burlington.

"I have been quite swept up in our joint concern, it is true," said Penny, "but you are not in error. I shall be comfortable, and without a financial care."

"And what will you do, once our current undertaking is concluded?"

"I... had not considered it," said Penny, "but I think I would like to continue my studies. Madame Curie has been doing some most absorbing work on new elements, whilst Sir Joseph Thomson has been publishing some intriguing papers on particles called electrons. I believe I shall turn my attention to these discoveries at the first opportunity I get."

"I find your passion for the sciences endearing, Penny," said Miss Burlington, and there was no mistaking the warmth of her expression as she gazed at the young woman, "however, I have a request. I wonder if you wouldn't put some smidgeon of your time aside to provide me with occasional assistance, if the need is there. I cannot promise recognition or reward, for our work remains under the rose, but you would have my gratitude, and the knowledge that you have fulfilled your duty to queen and country."

"I would be honoured," said Penny, her eyes bright with emotion, "to serve in some small way. And knowing that I had been of assistance to you, dear Violetta, would be all the reward I require."

The ladies exchanged expressions of such warmth as to cause their eyes to brim with emotion, and Roxanne, thus far silent, was not immune from such affection on seeing such nobility. Where the interview may have progressed must be left to the imagination, for at that moment Martin entered the room. The ladies were forced to strong measures to suppress their gaiety upon espying his ashen-faced expression, with hints of green about the gills. Whether it was the motor car journey, or his subsequent self-medication with brandy that was responsible for his current indisposition was not clear, however he steadied himself and softly cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, miss," he said, addressing Penny, "but I'm not feeling quite myself. I wonder if I might not be excused duty. I believe I should take to my bed."

"Why, of course, Martin," said Penny in a solicitous tone, "I will not need you until tomorrow. Pray, attend to your health, I give you leave to retire."

"I thank you, Miss Penny" said Martin, his formality perhaps due to his struggle with the contents of his stomach, "you are nothing less than angelic."

With that, Martin withdrew painfully, exaggerated care attending his every step, and the women hard-put not to giggle at the sight of such a cocky swell brought so low.

"I have another small request," said Miss Burlington, once Martin was out of the room, "though I fear it will leave you without attendants. But I would borrow Roxanne for the evening, with your consent."

Penny glanced at her maid, and saw that she was most desirous to accompany Miss Burlington. So, she assented, and with further expressions of mutual affection Miss Burlington withdrew, taking Roxanne with her to the Arnold. Penny watched from the window as her companions arranged themselves, with onlookers barely able to conceal their gawking, Miss Burlington looked up, and with a smile honked the klaxon on the Arnold before speeding away at the unheard-of speed of nearly twenty-two miles to the hour, Roxanne laughing aloud and holding on to her bonnet.

Alone, Penny glanced at her uncle's remaining papers, but she could not face further investigating them that evening, requiring instead some recreation. He had left an extensive bookshelf, and Penny was drawn to it, running her eye along the titles and letting her finger brush against the spines of the books as she did so. Some of the authors were unfamiliar to her -- she had not heard of William Lazenby, nor of his novel, The Pearl, but it seemed perhaps better than the novels Alice, and The Mysteries of Verbena House, both of which appeared to have no author. In the end, however, she was drawn to a book entitled Venus in Furs, as it was perhaps an interpretation of Botticelli.

She settled back on the chaise, having put together a cold supper in the kitchen, and had just opened her book when a knock at the apartment door interrupted her. There was nobody to answer the door but herself, and upon doing so she discovered a uniformed servant of soldierly bearing, smart in bottle-green livery, bowing and extending a gloved hand, in which was an envelope addressed to her. Puzzled, she opened it and read.

My dearest Miss Dreadful, Penny if I may repeat our familiarity of last evening, I find myself consumed with thoughts of our conversation at the embassy reception. I was particularly struck by your admission of ignorance when we touched upon the character and interests of your uncle, and in appreciation of my late friend, I would set that to rights. My carriage awaits and will bear you to my apartments in Grosvenor Square, if you think it not forward of me to request the pleasure of your company. I remain yours, Sebastian von Lipschitz, etc.

Penny calculated rapidly, wishing that she had Roxanne or Miss Burlington or Major Virtue, or even Commodore St George present to advise her. But she was quite without counsel, the decision solely hers. Upon one side of the balance there was the threat to the Empire, and also a sense that Count von Lipschitz could be turned to the good, yet on the other side of the scale was the undoubted peril that such an enterprise might present. However, being of a singularly determined character, Penny pondered for but a minute before informing the servant to wait below while she changed her garb into something appropriate for meeting a gentleman, and that she would be with him presently.

She changed rapidly, feverishly unbuttoning and buttoning, choosing and discarding items of clothing before settling, in a mere seven minutes, on a suitable outfit. Another four minutes later, and she was lacing up her ankle boots and setting her plumed hat upon her head, and then reaching for her muff she departed, pulling closed the apartment door behind her and taking the stairs two at a time in her girlish enthusiasm.

The servant held the door of the carriage and Penny entered. A moment later she was whisked through the evening Mayfair streets to the count's Grosvenor Square property, a tall townhouse by some measure grander than his suggestion of an 'apartment' had led Penny to expect. She alighted from the carriage and gazed up at the whitewashed house, constructed in the style popular a century before, then climbed the few stairs to the main entrance in the neo-classical portico.

An older liveried servant held the door for her and took her cape, then showed her to the first-floor parlour where Count von Lipschitz awaited her. He stood to greet her and she saw he was dressed rather eccentrically in a long, patterned dressing gown over his breeches, with a cravat at the neck. However, despite the peculiarity of his attire, it became him, and he looked raffish, ever so much the dashing cavalier. Her dress was complementary, a vision in flowered lilac, and the Count seemed a trifle bewitched at the sight of her.

He brought her to a sofa and bade her sit, whilst he indicated a side table groaning with an eclectic buffet of oysters and asparagus, truffles and pomegranate, ginseng and artichoke. Next to it, champagne was chilling, a drop sliding seductively down the side of the glacette. The Count poured Penny a glass and then seated himself next to her.

"It is such a pleasure to see you again, Penny," he said with a smile, then touched her glass with his.

"Indeed, Sebastian," said Penny, prettily, "and I must confess I found that yesterevening passed us by too quickly."

"I cursed the flight of time," said the count, "for its churlish theft of your company."

"Oh, you are too kind," said Penny, "for it was I who was deprived of your debonair insights into the life diplomatic. But I believe you wished to converse of my uncle?"

"Yes, for I was distressed that you had never met that most.... Ach, I cannot do it!" And suddenly the Count leapt to his feet with great violence, striding purposefully to the window and gazing out, his body all a-tremble. Penny was nonplussed by this dramatic turn, struck speechless as she awaited some explanation.

"Penny," said the Count, his body convulsed with passion as he turned to face her once more, "I cannot resist! I laid upon my divan last night in a torment, failing to force my thoughts of you from my mind..."

"Why, Sebastian..." Penny tried to interrupt, but the Count was not to be stopped.

"No! You must let me speak," he said, "for I could not do it! All I could see before me was you, your smile, your eyes, your graceful allure. You must forgive me the ardency of my confession but it cannot be gainsaid. For it is you, Penny, bursting in upon my ordered universe."

The Count finished upon his knees in front of her, her hands in his and his eyes locked upon her in an impassioned gaze.

"Sebastian..." began Penny before she paused, and in that instant she knew what her course must be, her not unwilling sacrifice the least she could do for old England, "I... I feel the same. Last night I thought it, but this morning, upon awakening, I knew. I knew that my life had changed and that it would mean but little were I not to see you again."

"Oh, Penny!" the Count murmured, kissing her hand.

"Oh, Sebastian!" cooed Penny, part swooning, "oh, but I feel nearly overcome... this heat..."

The Count looked distressed and began to fan her, and indeed there was a most strong colour to her cheeks.

"Sebastian, you must loosen my dress, for I need air..."

The Count became a man possessed, and limply Penny did her best to aid him as he unbuttoned the myriad fastenings on her bodice. They seemed never-ending, but after an aeon the last button came undone, and Penny, now miraculously recovered stood. The Count was still on his knees before her, and he could only watch, mesmerised, as Penny slid her dress from her shoulders and let it fall, with a delightful shimmy to assist it past her hips.

She then stood, an artful hand resting upon her waist, and drank in her effect upon him. For she had prepared well, and had forgone her chemise, and indeed her petticoat and her drawers. She was clad in only her beribboned corset, her white stockings encasing her shapely legs, held in place with embroidered garters. The Count's eyes near popped from his head as he regarded her mons, adorned with a tuft of the blondest hair.

"Why, sir," said Penny in a most coquettish manner, "you appear to approve of what you see."

The Count could merely gargle incoherently in response.

"Just as you say," said Penny with an arch smile, "and I must confess to a renewed gratitude towards my mentor in Switzerland, Frau Aufguss. In her academy, she was most insistent that we learn the skills and aptitudes that help a woman navigate the rigours of life, and in particular, enable her to captivate, and retain, the interest of suitable men in polite society. I do believe I was her best pupil."

The Count gulped, and then suddenly his pupils dilated most dramatically, and in an instant he let out a strangulated cry of pain. He doubled over, and Penny dropped to her knees next to him, solicitous.

"Ah!" he moaned, "look!"

At that, he untied the cord of his dressing gown and cast it aside, and beneath it he wore nothing upon his torso. Penny drank in the sight of his manly chest, made firm by years of practice with sabre and epée, and military service of the most adventurous kind. And then her eyes widened as he reached for his fly buttons, and single-mindedly ripped open his military breeches. He pulled them down and Penny gasped in, first, excitement, and then surprise.

There, enclosing his manhood, was something most peculiar. It had the appearance of a steel cage, that restricted the ability of his member to move, and most importantly, to swell in size. The device was secured by a small padlock, and attached by thin straps to a velvet belt that encircled the Count's waist, upon which was a small, green pouch resting on his right hip. Penny's mind boggled at the thought of a man placing such a device around his member.

"Why, Sebastian? I cannot comprehend," she said.

"I am undertaking a great work," the Count winced, "and I could not afford distractions of any kind. And so, I enclosed my virility, that it could not lead me astray. But then, ah! Then, I saw you last evening... I struggled, I fought, but it is no use..."

By this point Penny was beside the Count, on her haunches, her legs parted slightly and her bountiful breasts spilling out from the top of her corset. The Count gazed at her and his eyes fell, his gaze drawn inexorably down to that most sensitive, most private of Penny's places. As he looked at her his hand gripped at his thigh, his knuckles white, and then he let out yet another piercing cry.

"It is too much," he panted, as he tried to exercise an iron will upon himself, "I must be free of it!"

At this the Count scrabbled pitifully at the pouch, at last pulling it open and digging his fingers down inside it. He produced a small, golden key, holding it as he trembled. He whimpered as his shaft sought to expand once more, his fingers shaking as he struggled to insert the key in the small padlock to the side of the device.

"Penny, please, I beg of you," cried the Count, as he failed, and failed once more to insert the key in the lock. With a calm hand she took the key from his fingers, and she looked into his eyes, conveying a stillness that he sought to emulate, as she slid the key into the lock.

"Are you sure, Sebastian?" she said unhurriedly, "what of your great work?"

"Ach! Yes..." Sebastian panted, "yes, I'm sure. For the love of all that is holy..."

"Very well, then," said Penny, teasing him with her dilatoriness. Finally, she turned it, and the small padlock opened, followed a moment later by the device springing apart.

"Such torment," said Penny softly, "but did you enjoy it?"

The Count began to shake his head, but stopped.

"Silly Sebastian," Penny smiled, and then she placed the key inside her corset, between her breasts, "I think it is much safer here. You can have it back later, if you really think you need it..."

The Count sighed in relief for a moment, and then he gazed up at Penny again. Their eyes locked. For an instant all was still, and then they were in motion. The Count reached out for Penny and she leant in to him, their lips meeting hurriedly, passionately, their hands exploring rudely as their mutual breathing became heavily, intermingled with panted endearments.

Penny's hand worked downwards, across the Count's taut pectorals and over his firm abdomen, all the while letting out tiny gasps as he caressed her neck with his lips. At last, she reached his growing rod, and she wrapped her hand around him, hearing him grunt in pleasure. She stroked him, feeling his magnificent meat swell, filling out with every one of her manipulations until he was so much more impressive that the Swiss men she had previously experienced.

"Oh, Penny," he muttered, and he reached between her legs, eliciting a whimper from her as he encountered her wetness, and caressed.

"Oh, Sebastian," Penny moaned softly in his ear, "use me as you desire, but do not delay."

With that, the Count seemed newly energised. He got rapidly to his feet, and taking Penny by the hand led her excitedly from the room, a step across the hallway, and into another room which, it transpired, was his boudoir. The room was decorated richly in the oriental style. From the rail around the top of the four-poster bed hung red satin curtains, embroidered with sumptuous golden Chinese dragons, and its foot was a large Chinese travelling trunk, carved with more mythical beasts and held shut with a padlock.