Black Skies Ch. 01

=====================INTRO=====================

Ancient legends abound in stories of automata, machines animated by divine or human genius. Since antiquity, the various civilizations of the world experimented during their Golden Ages with mechanically-driven devices to perform a variety of tasks, of which the only surviving examples are clocks and simple mannequins.

But it was only since the Age of Enlightenment, man sought to apply his ingenuity towards a better world, where machines will set him free from his labors, and allow him to explore the heights and depths of the Earth beyond the reach of his mortal body. Some even dreamed of transforming their societies into ones governed by the principles of Reason, Liberty, Equality and Brotherhood.

The Industrializing nations of Europe immediately realized and capitalized on the practical value of science, and soon scientific institutions sprung up to disseminate the fruits of its labors. A breakthrough emerged in white-shored, coal-rich Albion, the future workshop of the world, when it was discovered that steam could be harnessed to great effect, unleashing tremendous energy that could be easily channeled to productive ends via the external combustion engine. Millions of patents were devised that employed machine power in nearly every aspect of practical life, and the landscapes of Europe became dotted with factories and billowing clouds of black smoke.

In the political upheavals of the early 19th century, the only great institutions to survive were scientific. The Church had lost most of its credibility and practically all of its political authority. Only those competitive nations that aligned themselves closely with pioneering research and technology, and implemented the scientific ideals of meritocracy and technocracy, were fit to be called Great Powers. It was they whose footprints on the world were largest.

It was the autocratic nations, such as Austria, Russia and the Ottoman Empire, who most frequently stood in the way of progress. By their abundant natural resources and populations they clung to power, despite their repressive practices and outdated customs. Yet all had teeming masses of peoples yearning to live free, turning each into a veritable powder-keg of potential conflict. It was in their regions of the world that drew the rest into conflict.

==============CHAPTER ONE===FOR WANT OF A SCREW===========

London, England

July 1853

Doctor Roger Bellamy was an esteemed practitioner of medicine, whose ingenuity and broad approach to human illness reflected the renaissance nature of his education and his aristocratic upbringing. Despite being only in his early thirties, no one questioned his unconventional ideas, as he frequently kept in contact with the eminent figures in all the branches of medicine, and each experimental approach was validated with unheard-of rates of success. His very person simultaneously embodied the go-for-it spirit of modernity and a romantic, yet sensible attachment to England's past. Genteel and gentlemanly, Bellamy both engaged in manly sports and the humanities in his spare time.

In fact, the only real flaw of his was his eligibility. Women everywhere sought his hand, frustrated that such a desirable bachelor wasn't interested in marriage. While the age certainly had its share of distractions and worthy endeavors, being unmarried in one's thirties opened a man to terrible rumors, made in whispered breath. An overriding interest in the sciences could only excuse Mr. Bellamy for so long.

"Whatever they may say about Doctor Bellamy, he is a fine man, and you'd better leave a good impression, Prudence. You will not scare him off like your suitors with your outrageous disease," came a stodgy, matriarchal voice from the lobby.

"Mother, I shall be on my best behavior. But I have told you before, my bouts of...exuberance, are not mine to control," replied the more youthful, subdued voice next to her. From inside the practice, Roger could only discern vague outlines from the pastel-like glass on his clinic door.

"Silence, child! We will have this talk at home!"

Roger could tell that the figures in the lobby were looking through the blurry window at him as well, and decided that they had waited long enough. He opened the door with the best nonchalance he could affect, which always seemed to work. He caught the matron's stern expression for a brief second before she disguised it with a polite smile.

"Greetings," the doctor cast a soft eye to the daughter, who could only return her gaze in doses. She was quite nervous, both due to the circumstances of her disease, and the pressure her mother placed on her to impress.

To be honest, while Dr. Bellamy was a handsome enough man, and worthy of admiration, there was no place Prudence would rather be than at home. There was only one prescribed cure for hysteria in Victorian England, and it would be almost impossible to create a favorable impression of herself after receiving it. Listening to her mother discuss her problems with the doctor was almost enough for her to run out the door.

"While we do not believe as the Ancients did, that your daughter's symptoms are caused by a malignant uterus freely traveling around the body, it is possible that her erratic behavior can be explained by some underlying nervous disorder, or flaw in the reproductive tract. The latter would be very simple to find, but the former would require further consultations. You should be proud of your daughter if the cause is psychological. I hear it is more common in the mentally advanced."

"She is quite a gifted girl, even though she is PRONE TO SULKING," the old woman raised her voice and turned to Prudence, not being subtle about it at all. Prudence lifted her gaze from the marble-tiled floor and forced her eyes and mouth into a tight smile.

"Ever since she was fourteen, she has had a tendency to cause trouble. She gets irritated easily and has refused meals on more than one occasion."

Internally, she grimaced. She had been perfectly healthy and well-adjusted when her father was still alive and her mother hadn't been constantly pressuring her into marriage. It is hard not to be irritable and have a healthy appetite when the only voice you heard criticized you every day. Plus, her corset made it impossible to take more than three bites of anything and not feel like she was full to burst.

Still, Prudence feared she really might have hysteria. She had been feeling unnatural excitement towards a lowborn chimney sweeper who worked her street, even though all common sense says such a man could not be attractive to a well-bred Englishwoman such as herself. Women were not supposed to be sexual creatures, according to the handbooks she was given as a child, and she was mortified to find that her lower extremities often lubricated themselves without her permission. She could find no sane woman who would admit to having such problems, so the chances were good that she really suffered from some disease.

"The fastest way to figure out the source of your daughter's distress is a brief physical examination, following by stimulation to paroxysm. Her symptoms should be reduced for the next week, around."

"I hope you understand my desire to observe you, doctor. I simply must be in the room."

"Of course, madame. You shall witness that no harm will come to your daughter. I am a licensed professional, after all."

The three of them entered his office. On one wall were his certificates and proof of his qualifications, on the others were bookshelves filled with the latest volumes of medical knowledge. His desk had a globe, a fancy pen, and all the trappings of an educated man. In the half of the room furthest from the door was his work station.

"Please, have a seat over there."

Dr. Bellamy gestured to the reclining chair by the window. Prudence sat down on it improperly, leaning too much forward.

"Seat yourself as far backward as possible, then place your legs in the braces."

To her dismay, Prudence's legs became elevated and spread apart, exposing the space between them. Save for her undergarments, he would have had a direct view of her delicate parts. Her mother sat in a chair in front of the desk, observing the two as if everything was perfectly normal.

"If you will, please remove your undergarments and pull up your dress so that there is nothing covering your waist. I will turn around for your privacy."

While he was a charming and handsome man, part of her was annoyed with his pointless sense of formality. What is the point of averting his gaze when she took off her clothes when he would end up seeing her naked anyway? Her mother seemed to approve, even find this gesture considerate of him.

Prudence folded up her panties and placed them in her pocket. She did not want to hand them to anyone if there happened to be an odor or residue on them. She folded her skirt up, exposing her lower body which was bare save her long stockings, garter-belt and shoes.

Meanwhile, Dr. Bellamy was washing his hands in a cold rinse bowl. Hand-washing had recently spread as medical practice, but glove-wearing was yet to come in vogue. He would be touching her barehanded! Prudence almost fainted at the thought, but didn't want to be viewed with even more alarm.

She tried to maintain her calm expression as she found herself becoming moist. The cool air of the office was more noticeable on her hot labia. She almost wished she could wipe herself dry with her panties, but she feared that touching it would make it worse. Her pubic hair was on full display as well, a tiny little thing. Not good. A bald vagina was associated with prostitutes, while a hairy one conveyed meant modesty. It was her misfortune that she was never quite a hairy girl down there. She only had a triangle-shaped patch, almost as light as her light blonde hair, and offering no protection at all from the male gaze. How could she come off as dignified when Dr. Bellamy can see as much of her as he wanted?

"Ah, right away I detect something," Roger said with confidence and certainty. He pointed right between her legs.

"What is it?" Her mother asked, concerned.

"She has an enlarged clitoris. Modern medicine believes it to be a useless appendage, but I have reason to believe it plays a role in influencing a woman's sexual appetite. Hers is about the size of a pearl, and it's not covered by its accompanying flap of skin ."

With insensitive fingers, he pinched the hood above her clitoris with his left hand, and pointed toward it with his right index finger.

"When the clitoris protrudes this much, it can produce excitations upon contact with the slightest breeze, or softest silk."

To demonstrate, he gave it a light flick, which caused her to tremble in her contraption.

"And her lower extremities produce excessive lubrication, largely, but not solely, due to the influence of this troublesome nerve." He ran a finger between her lips and drew up a good amount of mucus. He held it up to the mother to demonstrate her productivity.

Prudence spaced out for a bit while Dr. Bellamy retrieved a fancy prying device and gave more explanations to her mother. He inserted it unceremoniously into her quim and peered into her opened hole.

"At least your daughter's hymen is intact. While a torn hymen does not necessarily betray sexual activity, an intact one precludes it. Your daughter has not tried to relieve her hysteria herself or with a partner."

"That's good. We never suspected Prudence of dishonoring herself, though the risk still remains."

"Now that my diagnosis is complete, I will begin to attempt a cure."

"The paroxysm, doctor?"

"Correct. An intense series of convulsions, and for your daughter, they will be intense, will do much to greatly relax the nerves and reduce her acute symptoms. This will be brief, trust me."

Roger slid his fingers in just half the distance of the nail on his middle finger, then made a circle with it among her inner lips. With his other hand, he massaged her clitoral hood up and down the shaft. This was quite a pleasant sensation, and Prudence settled into it easily.

This preliminary step took a minute, then Dr. Bellamy found the entrance of her vagina with his middle finger, and gently inserted the finger to the first knuckle. The opening of her hymen would allow a finger, even two with a little stretching, but he proceeded slowly.

A blush was forming on Prudence's pale cheeks as she felt the novel sensation creep into her and spread throughout her nether parts. The entire area below her waist was tingling, and she felt herself slowly being stretched by the doctor's fingers.

He started sliding his fingers in and out, rotating them in all directions. Every time he arched them up and hit her G-spot, the pleasure increased threefold. She wished she could tell him to focus there, but stilled her tongue.

She tried to keep quiet, but her whalebone corset was making it hard to breathe adequately through the nose alone. Her respirations were getting louder, and she felt her nipples betray her as well. Even her anus was itching for stimulation. She had no idea what a woman's ecstasy felt like, but what was going on in her vagina must have been close.

Now that he had a rhythm going, Roger Bellamy stopped paying attention to the girl and turned his head to her mother. "If it is alright, may I have a cigar from my desk?"

"Of course, doctor. Could I have a smoke as well?"

"Help yourself. Tobacco invigorates and fortifies the mind."

The two began puffing up and filling the office with cigar smoke. It was quite heady and Prudence's enjoyment of the session definitely decreased. Not only was the smell hard to bear, it was slightly irritating that her doctor was being so nonchalant. Why couldn't he look at her! Was it his professional duty to ignore her?

She continued to hold up her skirt, occasionally glancing over the barrier of fabric between her eyes and the action going on. Dr. Bellamy's sleeve was rolled up and his hairy arm was thrubbing in and out of her with his thick fingers. Prudence found it helpful to look at him during his ministrations. The waves of pleasure emanated faster and more intensely. She looked across his fancy shirt and vest with the watch hanging out of it, over to his trousers.

'Aha! Pretend to be professional all you want, doctor, but I see you have a bulge,' Prudence thought, grinning triumphantly. Then she smacked herself mentally for her pride at arousing another man. Jesus said that lust in one's heart was fornication, so she must have been driving the doctor to sin. And she herself had sinned many times in this office already.

"Have you read the news, doctor? Criers have been yelling all morning that the Tsar has finally invaded Rumania."

Ugh! Mother!

"Yes, though I do not believe the reports of 500,000 men, this move seems quite serious. The Right Honorable George Hamilton-Gordon has already declared that we will be sending ironclads to the Dardanelles with the latest steam cannons. The Sultan will undoubtedly try to drive the Bear back over the Danube."

"I wonder if it wouldn't be better to let the Russians have Rumania, so that their fellow Christians would be free of those horrible Moslems."

"I would have to disagree. While the Sultan and the Tsar are both brutal despots, Moldavia and Wallachia can at least breathe easier under a lazy misrule than an efficient one."

"Well, I just hope our boys in red give Ol' Nick what-for. I'd hate for Great Britain to drag herself into something she can't pull herself out from."

"Hear, hear, Mrs. Wallace. War is a ghastly thing. Even when it's noble."

Prudence tried to concentrate on bringing herself to orgasm, but couldn't help but feel miffed that her mother and doctor were casually having a conversation with each other. And smoking! A wicked thought stirred within her that wouldn't it go much faster if he used that cigar on her, or his own tool? Naughty Prudence!

This little fantasy definitely helped her along. Her hips started to buckle and shake in spite of herself. Her body had been trying to communicate to the oblivious doctor to go deeper and faster, and it finally took it upon itself to speed this along. She couldn't just grab his arm and shove him into her.

"Hmm? Oh right, yes, the girl. I'll finish this quickly."

With that, Dr. Bellamy brought his thumb over her clit and rubbed it gently as he arched his fingers up, unknowingly tapping on her G-spot. Her body violently reacted, like tossing elemental Sodium into water, and soon Prudence reached Paroxysm.

Her hips and muscles were convulsing as her vaginal muscles tightened over the foreign body lodged between them. The sensation was so powerful that it was all Prudence had not to moan like a whore. To her fright and humiliation, a briny discharge she had never seen before was squirting out of her body, and she prayed to God she hadn't soiled herself.

"Ah, it's on my shirt," came his disaffected male voice. Roger casually walked back over to his rinsing bowl and washed his hands again.

Prudence lay in her chair, legs still held up by braces, reeling from the throes of orgasm. Her womanhood was a flaming carnation, appearing almost neon against the porcelain white skin of her undercarriage. All of her anxiety had seemed to go away, at least for now. A rosy blush graced her cheeks, and her neat blonde locks were shaken loose from their bun and billowed over her shoulders like Eve. Her blue eyes were dilated and unfocused, and her panting mouth had a permanent smile plastered on them. Despite her restrictive corset, Prudence was taking deep breaths that heaved her small bosom. Had Roger Bellamy turned around, he would have witnessed the beautiful sight of a young woman in glow.

'I wouldn't mind another one of those...' she thought.

But to her mother and doctor, this was just business. She had to unharness her legs and put her panties back on. She mischievously considered 'forgetting' them in his office.

Her mother finished signing the bill.

"Monitor her closely for the next week, and see if her personality improves."

He could have phrased it more kindly, Prudence pouted.

The two females left the office, one with a clear bounce in her step. Roger sat down in his chair and sighed, finishing his cigar. His younger brother Thomas was one of Her Majesty's Engineers, and was certainly being shipped over to the Black Sea to fight the Russians. Tom's fiancée Mathilda was in London living with his parents, and she was said to have mild hysteria as well. Treating her would cross some boundaries with Tom, so he had to prescribe her drugs from the chemist instead. Roger wished he didn't even have to treat hysteria; today's client aside, most of his patients were middle-aged and old women who kept their intimate parts in abominable condition. If only someone could invent a mechanical stimulator so that he wouldn't have to use his hands. Some kind of vibrationer...

--+--

The Aegean Sea, aboard the HMS Sovereign

August 1853

Thomas Bellamy felt the sea breeze rushing between his outstretched fingers. He had gotten up on the main deck from his quarters to stretch and walk around for a bit. Around him were three of Her Majesty's great Ironclads, the pride and joy of Britain. Even from afar he could appreciate the exquisite craftsmanship that went into their making. Every ship and steel worker must have felt, on some level, the pride of Pygmalion when Galatia came to life. The stokers in the boiler rooms worked tirelessly to feed these metal Leviathans their coal. They too, must have felt in part responsible for getting these hulks to move, at once powerful and insignificant in the greater order of the ship.

In the wake of the ironclads were lesser warships, tugboats and barges, each essential to the order of operations and maintenance. One could find playful dolphins swimming alongside the smaller vessels. All threw black smoke into the clean Mediterranean air like a united, floating furnace. If only Mathilda were here to see the pure whites and blues of the sea, she might lose some of the melancholy that constantly troubled her.