Clockwork Legacy/Lady in Waiting/Part 1

Part 1

Roland staggered out of the pub with the assistance of its proprietor before gravity and inebriation brought him down upon the filthy cobblestone street.

Picking himself up and assessing the damage, he ignored the proprietor shouting not to return without enough coin to settle his debt. Despite his mother's warnings, Roland thought his looks and charm might last him a bit longer in the city, but here he was just as she had predicted - penniless and without prospect.

Roland considered how to return to his family in anything less than total disgrace when he noticed he was being watched - from an alleyway only a few paces off stood a breathtaking beauty in a deep-green skirt and riding jacket, her shimmering copper hair elaborately coiffed beneath a stylish top-hat. Green eyes met his, and she made no attempt to look away. Amidst a dusting of freckles, her full red lips curled into a feline smile.

The incongruity between her destitute surroundings and her apparent station did not fully register with Roland, nor did the strange overtness of her flirtation. A part of him knew that she was likely trouble - but whatever that trouble was, he felt she was obviously worth it.

"Good evening, mademoiselle," he slurred, bowing low and just catching himself before he toppled into the street again.

The green woman batted her long eyelashes in return. Without a word she retreated slightly into the alley, never losing her smile. Hurrying after, he tripped and careened into her - but despite her petite frame, she managed to catch his weight and hold him steady.

"Sir, you're drunk," she said with playful admonishment.

"Why, I am simply, well, no - you see, I am intoxicated by your... you... you're very pretty, you know."

She took the complement as easily as breathing, asking, “Is there anyone to look after you? Or who knows where you are?"

"No, my family's all in the country you see. There's no one here to look after me..." It struck him that she was entirely still - no stirring of her round breast from breath, not shifting of her weight to support him - she just stood there, each part of her moving independently and only when necessary.

"What a pity," she said, her eyes fluttering closed and lips parting ever-so-slightly. As she leaned into him, he was overwhelmed by the scent of lavender, and he crushed his lips against hers. Roland encountered only the slightest resistance before seeming to pass right through her, tumbling forward into fog...

---

Roland awoke with the feeling that someone had tied his brain with a tourniquet dunked in ice water. He groaned involuntarily, the sound muffled by a wad of cloth stuffed into his mouth. Struggling to open his eyes, his vision returned slowly – he was in a small, neglected bedroom, his wrists and ankles lashed to the posts of an otherwise comfortable bed. Someone had cleaned him up, but apparently had neglected to dress him.

"You're awake – good." The Lady in Green swept into the room, clutching a worryingly large syringe. "You need to pay very close attention to what I'm about to tell you."

"Mrrggnnnfff!"

"Patience - you won't be in any danger, if you do as I say." She watched him, and when he made no further movements or sound, she continued. "I serve a Baroness who is not a woman at all, but rather an automaton of the most disagreeable nature. "

A what?

"I brought you here as I have others in the past per her instruction. And were I not to intervene here, she would use you and then kill you to keep her secret, as she has done before."

Were you to not intervene, he thought, I wouldn't be tied to this bed and awaiting my murder in the first place.

"I will loosen your bonds so that when she is upon you, you will be able to slip free. You must then open a panel between her shoulder-blades where you will find several dials. Turn the small one in the center clockwise as far as it will go."

Roland was struggling to make sense of any of this. What was an automaton? The woman had a 'panel' in her back? Dials?

"You will see me adjusting the very same dial, so pay attention when I do so. Once you have shifted the dial, you are to provide with her with all you can muster until she is... incapacitated. Are we clear?"

He shook his head "no" and tried to speak.

"There's no time - either you remember what I said or you will be..."

The sound of a door opening cut her off, and she hurriedly pricked his thigh with the syringe. The painful pinch gave way to a fire that made his manhood almost painfully firm. She tugged on each of the bonds slightly and whispered, "Do not free yourself until she is upon you!"

"Whom do you have for me today?" spoke a voice accustomed to command. The Lady in Green stepped from the bed was approached by a woman of imperious beauty. Her skin was an unearthly alabaster, so fair it made her pinned and braided chestnut hair almost black by comparison. Dark eyes quickly appraised his form, lingering only on his rigid member before turning back to the Lady in Green.

"A boy from the country, Milady," the Lady replied, and she set about releasing the woman from her elaborate clothing. "He has no one in town, save for a few angry debtees."

The woman nodded approvingly as her jacket fell away, revealing a high-collared shirt whose buttons strained against the remarkable size of her bust. As the Lady in Green dexterously unfastened the buttons the woman stood unnaturally still, not so much as a breath stirring her form.

Her shirt removed, Roland saw an ornate corset beneath full, ripe breasts tipped with soft nipples set in a perfect circle of pink. The sight so commanded his attention that he did not notice her shoulders and elbows until her skirts were almost off. At her joints were ball-mechanisms - the kind one would find on a poseable doll.

The skirts dropped and the woman turned her back to him and the Lady. Garter straps clung to the contours of her round backside, the swell of her hips and round thighs drowning out any apprehension he had of what was to come.

The Lady in Green gave him a pointed look, and pressed inward on the woman's pale skin between her shoulder blades. A panel opened, revealing what appeared to be a number of dials and gauges set above a lattice of clockwork.

"We shall try five today," said the woman.

"So high, Milady?"

"You are not here to question my judgement," snapped the woman sharply, "Unless you wish to share the fate of your predecessors.” The Lady moved her hand to the central dial, presently set at 9-o-clock, and slowly moved it clockwise. As she did, the woman shuddered, breathing in sharply while Roland heard what sounded like a clock winding up to strike. Her backside quivered and seemed to draw firmer, as water began to bead upon its rounded surface.

The Lady continued to move the dial slowly, until it just crossed the twelve-o-clock position. "I said five!" the woman exclaimed, breathlessly, "and not a jot more!" The Lady moved the dial back to until it was pointing straight up and closed the panel.

"Is there anything else Milady would-"

"Leave," the woman rasped. With a bow and a final glance to Roland, the Lady in Green left the room.

The woman stood motionless for a time, still with her back to him, before bringing her lace-gloved hand to her chest. It appeared she was softly experimenting with her breasts, drawing in deep breaths and emitting languid sighs before cautiously reaching down to her womanhood. She emitted a soft “Ahhh!” and buckled, knock-kneed, her cheeks clenching, her thighs wantonly grinding together. She swiftly drew her hand away, panting from the evidently overwhelming sensation. After a moment she regained her composure and turned to face him. He saw her breasts were even fuller than before, her nipples now a deep pink and stiffly at-attention – and as with her buttocks, water beaded upon their surface. With a slight smile she sauntered toward him, her hips swaying in a subtle, hypnotic arc, her breasts gently bouncing with every step.

"Now then," she whispered in anticipation, crawling upon the bed, her hips hovering above his aching loins. She pivoted on a ball-jointed knee, swinging one gartered leg over his head, and assumed a reverse farm-girl position. His eyes fixed upon her magnificent derriere as her hand reached down to clutch his shaft, guiding him as she lowered herself to meet him. She stopped her descent mere centimeters from him, her tuft of soft brown pubic hair tickling the tip of his manhood. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as he felt an incredible warmth from her lips, pink and flushed against her otherwise white skin.

“Perhaps,” she panted, “‘five’ is taking this too…”

With no thought in his mind save insatiable desire, he arched his back and thrust deeply into her.