Hello Fellow Pervs!
This week, I decided to take a break from A Lady and a Maid, and instead share an excerpt from a work in progress, a sci-fi dark erotica novel with a working title of Bristol’s Rebellion. This thing is all over the place thus far, and I haven’t been able to contain it, nor have I been able to nail down even the central theme — yet.
What I do know is that it’s: 1) Dark; 2) Depraved; 3) A sci-fi setting.
Really narrowed it down, haven’t I?
This is rough, so please forgive the lack of major editing. It is a WIP, after all. Hope you enjoy:)
This excerpt works as is, so I don’t think I really need to introduce it. Here goes…
* * * *
A Midnight Summons
The white clad figure cut a shimmering path through the shadowed hall, the guttering candles spraying dim light along the walls. The scullery maid Olivia hurried to her Master’s call, her fitful slumber interrupted by the harsh peal of the summons bell.
The ring of the bell meant the Master wished her presence, and woe betide the maid who did not respond with alacrity. So, up and out of her miserable quarters, a cell really, and down the long passage she had come to know and dread — for sometimes she was not summoned to perform a task, but to have the Master perform on her. Several times, she had returned back down that very same hall, stumbling and weeping, sure that this time she could endure no more.
But endure she did.
Olivia paused at her Master’s door, aghast anew at the light absorbing blackness of the wood. She trembled, tucking a stray black curl behind her ear, her other hand tugging at the hem of her shift. Though thankful for the covering — she had more than once been deprived of even its meager protection — the way it exposed her pale thighs still galled her. The shift she wore, a tight form-fitting wrap of gray cotton, was all that was allowed a lowly servant such as herself.
The shift ended shamefully high up her legs, just below the level of her pubis. Indeed, the tight uniform had managed to ride up during her long journey down the hall, and she pulled down at it in a vain attempt to preserve a shred of modesty. As a maid she was not allowed knickers of any sort, such extravagances reserved for higher beings than mere servants.
So, before knocking at the door, Olivia made sure her shift at least covered her sex, yanking it down in front. It worked, barely, but in doing so ensured the undercurves of her buttocks hung below the shift in back. There was nothing for it though, and Olivia rapped a timid knock on the jet wood.
“Enter”, said the low voice of the Master, the sound muffled through the solid wood.
Olivia pushed the door open and slipped inside. The chamber was lit by numerous candles, placed about the room, supplemented by the brightness of the crackling flames from the fireplace. Compared to the dim, somber corridor outside, the place was decorated rather comfortably, rich browns and dark reds lending warmth to the room.
The space was dominated by a large, sturdy four poster bed, a wide padded bolster at its foot. Opposite the bed, was the the fireplace, the healthy fire playing warm, orange light across the varnished planes of the bed’s frame. A rich, overstuffed chair with a matching ottoman angled to one side of the fireplace, turned slightly toward the door where the maid stood. She shuddered at the memory of past trials at that chair. A traitorous trickle of moisture between her thighs reminded her that though her mind rebelled at her treatment, the flesh never lied.
Directly opposite Olivia, against the far wall, stood what to an untrained eye would appear to be some type of bench, the black leather sloped downward at a gentle angle from its padded apex, roughly the height of her waist. A black table topped with a gray marble stood to either side of the strange bench. The heavy curtains of the only two windows were fully drawn, the maroon fabric dominating most of the far wall from nearly floor to ceiling.
To a casual observer, the space appeared to be a comfortably appointed bedroom for a rather well to do man. More careful observation revealed something else. Sturdy rings of iron were discretely placed on the walls, most at a height of about seven feet. Steel rings, their polished sheen reflecting firelight, were set high and low on the posts at the foot of the bed. An ornate basket of wrought iron and dark wood sat to one side of the chair. As one would expect, the basket contained an assortment of thin leather whips, but in addition there could also be seen the braided handle of a riding crop, and the polished handle of a thin rattan cane. If an observer were to take an even closer look at that padded and inclined bench, he would notice the sides positively dripping with dark straps of various lengths, their gleaming blackness adorned here and there with buckles of burnished steel.
Olivia was of course very aware of all this, and had first hand experience with some of it. She felt the lump in her throat, and tried to swallow it away.
But what had grabbed the maid’s eye was not the sinister meaning of these fixtures, but the occupants of the room.
Her Master, his tall angular frame half reclining, sat on the padded bolster of the bed, his muscular thighs spread in a languid pose. He was naked from the waist down, and his contafina, his ward Malina, was kneeling between his legs. She was entirely nude, save for her leather collar, and the cuffs which bound her hands at the small of her back. The contafina’s wrist cuffs which bound her hands were connected to a light chain that stretched up the creamy white of her back to a D ring embedded in the back of her collar.
From the angle where Olivia stood, the pair were nearly profiled to her, with the contafina’s back turned slightly toward her. The Master’s right hand grasped a fistful of Malina’s dark hair near the top of her head, the black tresses flowing up out of his fist like a pommel. With his other hand he held the base of his long erect penis, directing it almost parallel to the floor.
Olivia gulped again, fear still gripping her even as her traitorous arousal awakened. The sight of his penis never ceased to awe her, and that fact shamed her. She bit her lower lip, strangely jealous — if only for an instant — of the slave. At the manor, the slaves may have had hard lives, but they certainly received more than enough cock.
The slave in question, Malina, had her mouth open, the blood red lips wide, her glistening tongue outstretched to the fullest. The Master was lightly tapping the sensitive frenum of his penis on the steel stud that pierced the girl’s tongue. He evidently had been making the girl keep the appendage outstretched for some time while he bounced the wide purple head on her tongue, for a string of saliva could be seen lengthening from her lower lip toward the carpeting.
The Master’s expression was fond as he looked upon his slave, but his steel gray eyes were intent. His slave knelt, completely still, her eyes not leaving her Master’s face as the cock continued it’s easy tapping of her tongue.
Olivia stood stock still, exhaling as quietly as she could, her hands in a demure clasp over her sex. She knew better than to move, but she felt almost like she was intruding on a private moment. It was an absurd thought of course (she had been summoned to the chamber after all), but as she stood, silent, watching the scene before her, she felt her face warm with a blush.
The string of saliva had lengthened further, sparkling in the firelight as it swayed between the slave’s generous, round breasts. Olivia marveled that despite the warmth of the room, the slave’s deep brown nipples were achingly hard, their prominent lengths adorned with thick golden rings that shone in the firelight. The rings pierced cruelly deep into the base of the nipples, almost into the wide brown areolae themselves.
For several minutes, the maid stood, watching, the only sounds in the room the crackling of the fire and the very faint, wet sound of the penis tapping the girl’s tongue. Occasionally, the Master would murmur something to his slave, though Olivia couldn’t make it out, and Malina would nod her head as much as her Master’s firm grip allowed. Then his stony expression broke into a smile after her nodding acquiescence to something he’d said.
Olivia allowed herself a small smile, in spite of her fear, for though her Master could be cruel and kind in equal measure, his brilliant smile, however fleeting, lit up a room and lifted her spirits.
He apparently lifted his slave’s spirits as well, for Olivia thought she heard a faint sigh from the prostrate girl, and a slight but noticeable sway of the girl’s heavy breasts.
The Master’s smile brightened further at this, and, leaving his hard penis resting on the slave’s obedient tongue like a bridge of flesh, he reached down to play with those hard, erect nipples. The slave’s eyes closed slowly at this for a moment, and she bit her lower lip between neat, straight teeth. The Master took hold of one of her gold rings, twisting it gently in his fingers. Then he finally looked over at his visitor.
Olivia, startled, barely stifled a yelp, so lost had she been in watching the pair. Yet, she was still on pins and needles wondering why she’d been summoned. Surely it wasn’t so she could watch the Master be fellated by his beloved contafina.
“Ah, Olivia, my dear,” he said, resuming the tapping of his cock on the slave’s tongue ring. The girl’s tongue, which had dropped a bit during his attentions to her nipples, extended again eagerly.
“Master.” Olivia curtsied self-consciously, feeling the shift ride up again at the movement. She dared not tug at the shift though she felt the warm air of the room on her bare sex.
As of to confirm this, her cheeks coloring deeply, the Master dropped his gaze to her sex, then looked up again, his gray eyes sparkling. “That’s an attractive bush, girl. It’s a shame I haven’t seen more of it.”
Olivia’s face colored to the roots of her black tresses.
“In due time, I suppose,” he said, glancing down at her sex again, before meeting her gaze once more. “Well, I did call you here to discuss a few things, though your bewitching pubic curls weren’t one of them. We’ll have to address that later. Pull your shift down, girl.”
She obeyed with rush of relief that momentarily caused her to forget about why she might have been summoned. He quickly brought her back to earth.
“Now, tomorrow evening we will be receiving a guest, Olivia. I shall need you to prepare a room for him. The usual. In addition, you shall attend to his needs — whatever his needs.” The Master’s jaw clenched, a flintiness creeping into his gaze. “He is a very important guest, and he will be reporting your performance to me, so don’t let me down, girl.”
Olivia gulped, wondering who the guest might be. Other than the periodic visits from his various wards, and the occasional landowners meetings, they had very few outside visits on the isolated estate. She very much wanted to ask him more, but thought better of it. She allowed herself some hope that she has only been called here this night to discuss the need of this strange guest, so she decided silence was the surest course to safety.
“But I also called you here to discuss a problem,” he said, peering at her under his brow, his keen eyes searching, pinning her motionless under his sharp gaze.
Her heart sank.
I’m for it now!
“Come closer, dear,” her Master said, a nod of his head beckoning…
Copyright © 2014 Trent Evans
All Rights Reserved
* * * *
Perhaps I’ll post more next week, if there’s any interest. Thanks for reading!
Now, it’s time to go visit the other dark, lurid stops on this week’s Crawl:)
Jolynn Raymond says
I like this scene very much. Your words have created a dark, erotic, and somewhat mysterious picture of the room and its occupants. I would like to know what fate has in store for dear Olivia.
Trent Evans says
Thanks, Jolynn! More to come:)
Christina Mandara says
What a beautifully descriptive scene… I do love the odd string of saliva, sparkling in the firelight or dribbling to the floor for that matter 😉 I also love the fact that the maid is not allowed knickers. KNICKERS? Are you a fellow Brit? NO sane American would use the word knickers, surely? It’s panties, panties, panties. Or are you just being very proper in your own English manor… ~grin~ Whatever the case, delicious excerpt.
Trent Evans says
Alas, I’m a Yank:) But sometimes knickers just works 🙂 Glad you enjoyed it!
Ashe Barker says
We Brits revel in knickers. So to speak. But we digress. Fabulous piece, loved the detailed description of the room, the implements, the equipment, the occupants. Pleasure and a sense of menace lurking there too. Sounds like Olivia has a busy day ahead of her
Trent Evans says
You’re very kind to say that, Ashe. Thanks for reading!
shelly douglas says
Why shouldn’t the Master be happy? His penis has been bouncing on his slave’s tongue for how long? And I loved that Olivia could actually hear it tapping – what detail!! The dark and depraved I expect … but the Sci Fi element has me guessing. I look forward to meeting the visitor … and if he’s half as charming as the host … this should be one hell of a party. Lights up the room with his smile? Who in the hell is this guy – Mary Tyler Moore? Okay, MOORE please … I’m in 😉
Trent Evans says
I’m pro penis bouncing.
Of all the things I thought I’d write, not in a million years would I have guessed “pro penis bouncing” would be one of them. I got skillz?
I LOLd at the MTM reference. That’s awesome, Shelly:)
Wonderful excerpt. I would LOVE to read more next week. I am very curious as to the problem he wishes to discuss.
Trent Evans says
I think you’ll like next week then…
Thanks for commenting!
Layla M says
Dark? Depraved? Scifi?
*rubs palms together* mmm… excellent…
Write, write away! No pressure or anything… Haha!
Trent Evans says
I feels it! The pressssssuuurre!!
Glad you enjoyed it, Layla:)