Post by Jansth on Sept 4, 2014 20:57:21 GMT -8
((may not be suitable for work))
Keket toes curled through the grated platform overlooking the sweltering foundry, the billowing smoke, the thrum of the bellows, and the hellish glow of rows of crucibles filled to the brim with liquid steel. Her fingers gripped around the hot metal railing that vibrated with the raw elemental energy pulsing through the very walls and the very being of her.
The heat set the air about her to quivering. She gazed through that wavering curtain at the sweating men laboring down below her, glowing red like demons in the light of the fires. The savory scent of sulfur was on the tip of her tongue as she tasted the air that swelled about her. As she drew in that lusty breath, reveling in her slice of heaven her emerald gown slipped down her shoulders so that the garish shadows that played on the wall behind her, now caressed the swell of her breasts.
The bubbling crucible below her feet tipped, hissing like the devil as it spilled its molten load down, its white hot load brilliantly spilling out, tracing the confines of its mould in brilliant light. The men gathered below her looked up at and saw her unashamed as she leaned out over that delicious heat, her lips quavering with the primal fear that told her to get back even as she could feel her hair and lashes begin to curl, like the corners of her lips as she grinned.
Suddenly in the next moment she was wrenched backwards by a pair of strong hands on her shoulders.
“Good God, Madame!” came the horrified voice in her ear, as a jacket was thrown about her to hide her nakedness. “Such behavior, My Lady! I can’t think what would possess you to succumb to such lewd behavior!”
The ‘bringer of the night’, The Lichtor, The Lady Keket turned, a smile and a deep luscious laugh upon her painted lips. She traced the line of Nigel’s perspiring jaw with one long satin gloved finger as she dipped in teasingly as if she might kiss him before pulling away teasingly. She strode away past him, her hips swaying as her cloven feet clanged upon the catwalk.
“Have you no sense for the sexuality of danger, Nigel?” She asked, her silky voice reaching him even through the heady thrum of the foundry. “No, Madame,” Nigel uttered stoically, keeping a strong chin up, “I’m British.”
Waving the men below away, he ruefully shook his head as he turned away to follow his mistress.
Keket toes curled through the grated platform overlooking the sweltering foundry, the billowing smoke, the thrum of the bellows, and the hellish glow of rows of crucibles filled to the brim with liquid steel. Her fingers gripped around the hot metal railing that vibrated with the raw elemental energy pulsing through the very walls and the very being of her.
The heat set the air about her to quivering. She gazed through that wavering curtain at the sweating men laboring down below her, glowing red like demons in the light of the fires. The savory scent of sulfur was on the tip of her tongue as she tasted the air that swelled about her. As she drew in that lusty breath, reveling in her slice of heaven her emerald gown slipped down her shoulders so that the garish shadows that played on the wall behind her, now caressed the swell of her breasts.
The bubbling crucible below her feet tipped, hissing like the devil as it spilled its molten load down, its white hot load brilliantly spilling out, tracing the confines of its mould in brilliant light. The men gathered below her looked up at and saw her unashamed as she leaned out over that delicious heat, her lips quavering with the primal fear that told her to get back even as she could feel her hair and lashes begin to curl, like the corners of her lips as she grinned.
Suddenly in the next moment she was wrenched backwards by a pair of strong hands on her shoulders.
“Good God, Madame!” came the horrified voice in her ear, as a jacket was thrown about her to hide her nakedness. “Such behavior, My Lady! I can’t think what would possess you to succumb to such lewd behavior!”
The ‘bringer of the night’, The Lichtor, The Lady Keket turned, a smile and a deep luscious laugh upon her painted lips. She traced the line of Nigel’s perspiring jaw with one long satin gloved finger as she dipped in teasingly as if she might kiss him before pulling away teasingly. She strode away past him, her hips swaying as her cloven feet clanged upon the catwalk.
“Have you no sense for the sexuality of danger, Nigel?” She asked, her silky voice reaching him even through the heady thrum of the foundry. “No, Madame,” Nigel uttered stoically, keeping a strong chin up, “I’m British.”
Waving the men below away, he ruefully shook his head as he turned away to follow his mistress.
