This NSFWerotic, steampunk short story is set in an alternate history, Victorian-era Britain.
The sky boiled dark and liquescent, quite at odds with the gnawing anticipation that Lady Lynnea Atherton felt as her carriage drew to a stop in front of the immense building that crouched at the end of Greystock Street. Her driver and attendant, Reginald Lysle, bounced down, and offered her a hand down to the granite sett.
“Reginald,” said the baroness, as she pressed a silver florin into his palm.
“Yes, my lady,” he replied with his usual formality.
“You are dismissed for the remainder of the day. As per usual, I will be dining with Miss Morielli this evening, and spending the night in one of her guest rooms. Please, be back to pick me up sometime tomorrow around noon. No rush, please. Later is better than earlier.”
“As you like, Lady Atherton,” he replied with an incline of his head, “Have a good afternoon, my lady.” And with that he quickly made ready his departure, as Lynnea turned and strode toward the front door.
Lady Atherton’s long brunette tresses were pulled back into an elaborately knotted chignonsecured with a sterling silver hair pin the shape of a stylized crescent moon, and she wore matching silver earrings espousing the same lunar motif. Anyone lucky enough to glimpse the baroness’s décolletage on this dreary afternoon would be forced to note her widely revered and very generous cleavage, perfectly framed by a lustrous, dahlia blue taffeta dress.
Lynnea glided up the steps to the immense oak door and twisted the turnkey on the large brass doorbell. A loud but melodic ringing sounded on the opposite side, and she did not have long to wait.
“Why, good afternoon, Lady Atherton,” said Eryn Morielli after she had opened the heavily barred and latched door, “I must say, my dear, that dress does set off your eyes like twin sapphires!” said Eryn after a moment of awed reverie.
Lynnea smiled wistfully, “Sweet girl, you know flattery will get you everywhere with me. Now, Eryn, are we going to stand on the veranda while you ogle me until the neighbors begin gossiping, or….”
“I am so sorry, please come in, come in,” said Eryn with a flashing smile.
“No apologies are necessary love,” replied Lynnea with a lascivious wink, “Why, according to the Queen herself, sapphic love is apparently quite impossible.”
At that comment Eryn began to laugh wholeheartedly as she ushered the baroness inside and securely bolted the formidable door.
The Lady Atherton smiled warmly as she surveyed her friend and clandestine lover. Eryn’s copper-auburn hair was cut into a short bob — the lifestyle of a solitary, polymath inventor and machinist did not allow time for the elaborate coiffed hairstyles of Lynnea’s peers. Regardless, she thought, it always looked quite fetching on her. Where Lynnea had well-defined curves, Eryn still in her early 20s, had a much slighter frame. The inventor wore a low-cut white blouse tucked into an underbust corset. The corset was a supple tan leather with copper boning polished to a high polish. And, Lynnea noted, Eryn wore her usual workman-style trousers, tailored with no small amount of scandal, to snugly fit her slight frame.
“Your timing is impeccable my dear, I’ve been in the workshop all morning, I just finished getting cleaned up—” Eryn paused, looking from the baroness’s lips to her eyes, and breathed in her rose-water fragrance. Then with a smooth movement she swept her surreptitious lover into a passionate embrace, and her lips met Lynnea’s with all the pent-up intensity of the weeks they had been apart. Lady Atherton responded just as ardently to the kiss and ran one hand through Eryn’s short copper-flamed hair.
“I apologize, my lady. I seem to have been caught up in the moment….”
“Again, no apologies, dear Eryn,” replied Lynnea with a bright smile, “It has most regrettably been a few weeks since the last time we ‘shared an evening’ and I assure you that my humours are running just as hot as yours. And...” she whispered, “...I need your touch just as urgently, I assure you.”
They took tea together on a high secluded balcony of the immense building that functioned as Eryn’s domicile and machine shop, and afterward walked arm-in-arm down the broad stairway back down to the ground floor.
“Now Eryn, I know you have been studying mathematics under the tutelage of the Countess of Lovelace for several months now. How are your studies progressing?” inquired Lady Atherton.
“Oh quite wonderfully, Ada has been instrumental in teaching me the process of writing functional machine algorithms for the new model of punched card Babbage Analytical Engines. She really is a delight to work with!”
“That is wonderful dear.”
“Now that you have entertained me with all the latest gossip over tea, will you give me the chance to entertain you?” Eryn broke into a mischievous smile, “Are you ready to take a look at my latest steam and clockwork mechanism?”
“Of course, my dear.”
“Fantastic,” replied Eryn with a wicked grin, “First, I fear, I will need to divest you of most of your clothing. That superb dress, would not last more than a minute in my shop without being soiled with grease and soot.”
“Oh hush! You keep your workrooms nearly spotless,” said Lynnea laughing. “Nevertheless, I will comply with your request if you will help me unlace the back—”
Some minutes later, her boots and layers of taffeta and petticoats now shed, Lynnea stood before her furtive lover clad only in a tightly laced dove-white corset and pale kidskin gloves.
“Please, after you,” said Eryn lasciviously, as she motioned Lady Atherton toward the door to her workshop.
Lynnea winked at her slyly, and sauntered down the long hallway. Eryn watched the smooth movement of the baroness’s curves and naked buttocks as she strolled immodestly down the hall, and felt her heart race with desire.
In the workshop, a monstrous mechanical device, gleaming with brass and steel fixtures, crouched like a ravening animal against the northern wall. At its heart a cunningly articulated outstretched ‘X’ was formed by two pairs of mechanical arms which could be moved by an array of clockwork and pistons. The machine had a subdued floral motif, vines etched along many of the outermost brass fixtures, and, looking oddly out of place, there was a chaise lounge, seemingly pushed up against the left side of the elaborate metal framework.
“Well, I will admit, I have no idea what this mechanical wonder does merely from looking at it, Miss Morielli.”
Eryn laughed, “Rather than a tedious explanation, I believe a demonstration would be far more instructive. First allow me to loosen your corset a bit— there that’s better, now let me just retie these ends to keep them out of the way— Now if you would, please stand here, Lady Atherton,” Eryn said with a wolfish smile.
Eryn moved her carefully into position, with Lynnea’s back to the machine, and firmly secured her wrists and ankles with leather straps to the large brass and steel clockwork arms.
“Well, it appears I have you where I want you, now I just need to make sure you are ready.” And with that enigmatic statement, Eryn pressed her lips hard against Lynnea’s. Minutes passed as the inventor kissed and teased the baroness, running her fingers lightly along the inside of her legs, and over Lynnea’s shaved mons veneris, and then intimately between her thighs. Eryn’s quick fingers teased her lover’s inner lips, and she slid her index finger up into her depths. Lynnea gasped at the sudden intrusion and Eryn kissed her again hard, before withdrawing her finger and licking it clean.
“Perfect!” Eryn gave Lady Atherton a wink, “I needed to make certain you were as well lubricated as my machinery before we began.”
“Oh really? Now I am very intrigued.”
“Yes, now excuse me for a moment while I set this mechanical contrivance into motion.” Eryn then busied herself spinning wheels and dials, and adjusting an array of levers.
As the machine came alive a pair of large brass balls perched atop the device — a centrifugal governor — began to spin at a constant rate.
“Are all your inventions so blatantly erotic?” giggled Lynnea, all decorum momentarily forgotten.
“Believe it or not, those spinning balls are a necessary part of the design,” laughed Eryn with a wide smile, “Now, get ready.”
The machine whirred and hissed with steam fed through pipes from the nearby boiler. Suddenly, Lynnea was lifted several feet off the ground, as the arms she was securely strapped to began to rise into the air. Then the chaise lounge Lynnea had noticed earlier, and thought was only ‘pushed up’ against the machinery, suddenly began to move. Within a double handful of seconds it had rotated into position underneath her along a set of tracks on the floor.
The hydraulic arms slowly began to reposition Lynnea and the larger bronze framework tilted her forward until she was on her elbows and knees upon the quite sumptuous chaise lounge — which had velvet cushions dyed the deep, rich purple of mauveine.
“What on Earth…” Lady Atherton murmured in wonder, “And, why may I ask, am I here on this lovely couch, on my hands and knees and held immobile by this device?”
“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, my dear, and, as to your second inquiry—you will find out momentarily. Now look behind you.”
Eryn pulled another long lever, and large rosebud-shaped mechanism behind Lynnea’s upraised buttocks opened, blooming like a copper flower. Inside protruded a smoothly polished gold-plated tube with a blunted tip, like an oversimplified phallus wrought like an elongated golden bullet. The phallus was in turn secured to a steel piston.
Lady Atherton’s eyes widened in astonishment, but Eryn cut her off before she could speak.
“Yes, as you can now see—to phrase it succinctly—my machine is designed to hold you pinned down like rutting animal and will consummately fuck you. There at the tip of the golden phallus you will note there is small orifice, in mimicry of the male member. Through the hole a lubricating oil will slowly drip during the act of autoerotic copulation, and…” and here Eryn paused for effect and winked, “When I so choose I may also emulate the male ejaculatory faculty by triggering the effect either manually or on a clockwork timer!” She laughed warmly, “so, if we time it correctly the machine may achieve the simultaneous ‘mutual adjustment’ that most men cannot!” Eryn said with barely suppressed laughter.
As she explained, Eryn poured a copious quantity of crystal-clear oil over the metal dildo to aid the initial penetration, while it slowly cranked into position behind Lynnea’s nethermost regions and locked into place with a audible metallic snap. Then the gold phallus began to extend with a low sigh, while simultaneously a slow drip of clear fluid began to bead on the tip. Eryn stood with one hand on the golden rod and the other on an adjustment knob, and as the metallic member extended, she smoothly guided it into her lover.
Lynnea felt the gold press cool and slick against her inner lips, then very slowly extend, thrusting into her depths with inexorable pressure. Lynnea gasped and writhed both to feel it better and allow for smooth penetration, but she was already eager and wet with anticipation, and so the golden phallus slid in and out very slowly and effortlessly with the first of many iterations.
“Now Lady Atherton, here is where the really remarkable aspect of the machine comes into play. Do you recall the new Babbage Analytical Engine I mentioned earlier, well, it has many uses, but at the moment it is set as a controlling mechanism for this machine.” Lynnea moaned in affirmation as the golden dildo plunged once more distractingly between her spread labia. “You see,” continued Eryn, “The Analytical Engine can control and vary the motion and other functions of the golden phallus that you are even now enjoying, my dear, via the instructions of a punched card machine algorithm or ‘programmatic,’ which can then be looped to recur as long as the device is running—or until I take back manual control.” To prove the point Eryn threw a small brass lever, and suddenly a low rumble of whirs and clicks began that quickly blurred into white noise in the background.
“And, now, my darling, while the programmatic runs, I will be free to sprawl across this couch and you can indulge my sapphic vices with that beautiful mouth of yours.” And with that promise, Eryn walked away from the control panel, and stood with her back to Lynnea, as she began to slowly and teasingly disrobe—
Lynnea gasped as she was once again penetrated, first fast, then slowly. Then, the machine caught her by surprise as it thrust deep within her, and, astonishingly, the golden dildo began to vibrate!
“Oh, oh, oh!— Oh my!” she exclaimed, “I did not realize it could do that!”
Eryn turned to face her as she unlatched her own corset, “Enjoying that vibrational effect?”
“Oh yes,” replied Lynnea, now somewhat short on breath.
“I knew you would. Hmmm, I have been trying to think of a suitable name for the invention,” Eryn remarked casually, “Perhaps, Autostimulation Engine?”
“Well, I will call it ‘pure bliss’!” gasped Lady Atherton, as the whirring vibrations began to pulse rhythmically.
With a beaming smile, Eryn quickly continued to undress, shedding her embroidered silk blouse to free her small firm breasts, and stepping free of her boots and trousers. All the while the engine continued to pump and ply and occasionally vibrate Lynnea’s now thoroughly lubricated cunt. Yet despite the waves of sensation crashing against her nethers, the baroness could not pull her eyes away from the beautiful inventor as she undressed.
“Oh god—get over here Eryn. I need your lips against mine.”
“Oh, my lips will be pressed against yours most cunningly, soon enough.”
Eryn wasted no time, once she stood naked in the room. She stepped forward and, after loosening Lynnea’s corset a bit more, she pulled her ample bosom free from constraint. Lynnea’s now freed breasts began to bounce and pendulum in time to the engine’s varying rhythms. Eryn leaned down and kissed the baroness, then slid her body into position on the couch in front of her strapped-down lover, legs parted invitingly. And with a lithe movement and no small hint of eagerness, Eryn slid her smartly, shaved vulva within reach of Lady Atherton’s pert mouth.
The baroness let out a low moan of pleasure, that was echoed by her lover, as her lips and tongue sank into the sweet, soft depths of Eryn’s labia.
Eryn closed her hazel eyes and shuddered in pleasure, as her lover’s tongue danced in elaborate traceries across her inner lips and clitoris, all the while the immense engine held Lynnea neatly pinned to the couch and continued to fuck her dispassionately with merciless mathematical precision.
Eryn’s nipples soon stood erect and a warm flush grew visible across her breasts as Lynnea’s ministrations intensified. Then the baroness was licking and sucking at a faster and faster tempo as the machine paused its thrusting for a moment to vibrate. And Eryn was arching her back and moaning loud as she orgasmed hard against her lover’s mouth.
Lady Atherton thrust her tongue into Eryn’s cunt, sending another wave of pleasure coursing through her. The baroness let her tongue linger there for a long moment tasting the sweetness and salt that she had craved for weeks.
After her orgasm subsided, Eryn slid neatly off the chaise lounge, and strolled naked, sated, and glowing over to a nearby toolbox. She bent over at the waist, baring her hidden assets to Lynnea, then produced a beetle-black riding crop from the hidden recesses of the box.
Lady Atherton sighed audibly at the sight of the instrument, and Eryn positioned herself behind the baroness, ready to strike.
“Now, my lady,” said Eryn adopting an austere instructional tone, “You are going to cum for me, are you not?”
Lynnea nodded weakly, overwhelmed by the sensations of the humming and buzzing dildo buried in her cunt. The sharp crack of the riding crop across her bared buttocks brought her attention back to Eryn, along with a wave of pain intertwined with the pleasure.
“I am afraid I did not hear you, Lady Atherton. I said— you are going to cum for me, are you not?”
“Yes! Yes, I shall!”
“That’s better!” And on that note, Eryn took back manual control of the Autostimulation Engine, and began to slowly inch the throttle control forward.
The machine responded by plunging the gold phallus into Lynnea’s eager cunt faster and faster, and she moaned loudly. Eryn watched the machine mechanically fucking her curvaceous lover and felt a deep thrill and deeper lust. Lynnea began to pant and gasp, and with each full piston-action a puff of steam hissed.
Thwack! The riding crop cracked against Lynnea’s thighs.
“Not yet!” stated Eryn, “By the gods, I will test machine on you, and you will cum when I tell you!”
“Please! I need to!” begged Lynnea, “Please!”
Thwack! Thwack! — Pain and pleasure, and light pink welts rose.
The rate of thrusting increased further, and Lady Atherton felt as though her loins were going to explode with the potential energy of the climax held at bay. She and Eryn had a secret safety word, "forsythia'"— but she was still far from needing to use it. It all felt so amazing!
Eryn, reading her lover’s approaching plateau and climax with the expert eye of a sommelier sampling a rare vintage, slowly edged the throttle control lever faster, then at the last moment, she pulled hard on the chain which increased pressure through the lubrication system.
Inside Lynnea the thrusting, electroplated phallus lanced down a final time and suddenly began to spurt warm jets of oil into her depths. She felt the slick fluid splash against her cervix and the orgasm overwhelmed her. With a sharp cry of release, Lynnea came hard around the stiff gold rod, which Eryn had halted in the fully extended and locked position with expert timing. Her whole body shuddered and vibrated, a taut harpstring that had been plucked by the fingers of a muse. The baroness’s loud exclamations of pleasure served as an effective counterpoint to the engine’s hissing releases of steam, and the pulses of pseudo-ejaculation.
The hot oil began to pour out of Lady Atherton’s feverishly climaxing cunt, it coursed in fast rivers down her alabaster thighs, and dripped from her vulva to rain on the violet cushions.
Eryn drank in the tableau, then moved to begin the reset of the engine so she could release the exhausted baroness—and the day was still young. Perhaps after a brief respite and a few instructions Lady Atherton would like to try her hand at the throttle control lever?
Author’s note: Well my ribald readers, I hope you enjoyed “Bring Up the Steam.” I wonder how many public indecency laws publishing this story would have broken back in the 1870s? ;)
Anyway, if you enjoy my writing and would like me to publish more, please consider contributing to my tip jar. This may be done either through Vocal.media’s "gift" process, OR, if you are cryptocurrency savvy, feel free to use a more anonymous method detailed in my profile. Thank you!