A while ago, my wife and I read the classic lesbian vampire novel Carmilla. It was heaps of fun getting into the spirit of the era, so I wanted to write something set around the same time period.
Marian works in a house filled with domestic automatons. But none of them compare to Henri, a mysterious device that she finds in an old storeroom. Throwing all caution to the wind, she activates Henri. Can Marian endure the ravages of an insatiable machine? A 3300 word short story with clockwork-powered depravities!
Warnings: steampunk erotica, machine sex, robot sex, sybian, deflowering, first time, virgin sex, historical erotica, explicit erotica, carnal machine, Victorian erotica.
Love steampunk erotica? You’ll love Ravished by the Clockwork Machine!
“Are you intact, dear?”
Marian’s cheeks flamed with indignation. “Mrs Pritchard, I don’t believe I should answer such a personal—oh!”
The arms of the machine, growing impatient, drew out a whirring saw blade from God-only-knew-where. Marian screamed as it neared her, but it merely sliced off the studs on her corset busk, shearing through the good steel without a hitch. The other arms seized each half of her damaged garment, freeing her bosom from its confines.
“Forgive the imposition, dear, but it’s an important question.”
Marian squirmed as the arms stroked her breasts, brushing her nipples through the remnants of her shift. “Yes! Yes, I am.”
“Oh, my.” Mrs Pritchard sighed. “This is most vexing. Are you certain?”
Mrs Pritchard made a few notes in the corner of her book. “You see, I never calibrated the machine for a maiden. You might experience some discomfort.”
The gears advanced another two notches in quick succession. Marian screamed, her bosom heaving magnificently with each jarring drop of the platform. The arms fumbled with the buttons of her shift, and, finding no luck, ripped the garment in two, exposing Marian to the tender mercies of the machine.
Now that she was naked, the metallic arms ran freely over her skin. One of the hands pinched her nipple.
“Oh!” Marian squealed. Another soon followed suit. She struggled against her restraints, trying to get away from the probing fingers. The machine dropped down another inch. In the mirror, Henri’s tip gleamed white and pearlescent, polished to a high sheen. The fine lines and whorls in the wood grain became more visible as she neared it.
Marian whimpered, wriggling her hips upwards in an effort to move as far away from it as possible.
“It’s no use, dear. Just try to enjoy yourself.”
The machine dropped Marian down another inch. The tip of the phallus-like object nudged against her lips, nestled at her very entrance.
“Oh, Mrs Pritchard, it’s so large! However will I manage?”
“Be brave now, dear.”
Marian felt anything but brave. She bit her lip, trying not to whimper. “Lord have mercy,” she whispered, and the machine dropped her down again.
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