Henry, bless him, had devised a kite-like apparatus, with wires attached to a tree. To this we bound Crea about the waist, shoulders and forehead, her arms behind the trunk and her legs wide with that delightful cock thrusting forward and her cherry nether lips spread. The thin coating of ice only added to her charms in the moonlight, covering the firm nipples with a slick, come-hither glaze, and the double genitalia with moisture.
We waited, each of us nervous, pale. Over the several months of our project, we had neither time for much sleep nor food and the three of us had grown thin and pallid. This was apparent to me as I looked at my co-conspirators, now pensive.
Our main worry was that the ice would melt too quickly, before the storm arrived, and there would be decaying flesh bound to the tree and nothing more. And then there was the grim possibility that the storm would pass us by. But beyond that lay our main fear —that we had come so far only to fail. That even if all the ingredients were right, the corpse would not revive, and we would be back where we began.
I confess that over the months of building Crea, muscle by muscle, stretching skin taut where it should be taut, moulding and shaping her to the image in my mind, I had come to think of her as a new species. I had no doubt that on awakening, she would be happy and excited and grateful to me. I expected her worship even, bowing on knee before her master and creator.
The storm did not pass us by, but arrived quickly, and it was violent. We were instantly drenched in the chilly fierce rain. The winds were gale force, shaking the leaves of the trees, and snapping branches. Thunder broke and lightning lit the sky. Henry had attached his kite to Crea and run the wires up the tree, awaiting a bolt of lightning.
She stood, completely thawed now, slick with rainwater, her bare feet, or at least those of her donor, planted firmly on the ground, passively beckoning a miracle. In the silvery moonlight, as the lightning lit her flesh, I found myself become erect in anticipation.
The storm was at its zenith and would, from this point on, dissipate. But for the moment, lightning struck all around us. Trees. Shrubs. The house itself, deflected by the lightning rod. Time was running out. I wondered if that rod would have been a better attractor, and was about to voice my concerns, although there was nothing we could do about it now.
Suddenly a thought occurred to me. I pushed my way against the strong winds to Crea's form, bound securely to the tree. "What are you doing?" M. Krempe called, but I ignored him. Instinctively I disconnected the wires attached to the tree and fixed them securely one each to her nipples, one to her clitoris and one to her erect cock. The last I placed at the back of her skull, where the metal plate lay just inside the skin.
Suddenly the kite flapping in the wind above and the tree was struck. I shielded my eyes from the pouring rain and the illumination. The electrical energy travelled down the wires in a second. Crea's body was lit by the power. She jerked and trembled, her limbs flailing, hips thrusting hard. Her torso convulsed as in an unearthly orgasm while Zeus' rod of supreme power rode her body.
It seemed to last forever, and yet I knew that only moments had passed. And when the lightning bolt finally settled into the ground, all came to a stop. It was as though the storm itself had come here for this purpose and now that it had completed its task, departed.
The rains slowed to a trickle. The thunder and lightning were in the distance now. In the near darkness, we brought our lamps closer to Crea to see what, if anything, had transpired.
Each of us waited for our submissive creature to show signs of life.
"Crea, can you hear me?" Henry said. The plea in his voice was painful, for it reflected what we all felt.
"You must come forward," I said, my voice a bit firmer.
"Open your eyes!" the professor demanded, his tone harsh and filled with implied consequences.
Suddenly her eyes flashed open. The two colors were eerie to gaze at in the lamplight, now that a spark of life glinted behind those pupils.
She opened her luscious mouth tentatively, then grew bolder. "Master!" she said, looking at M. Krempe.
Demurely she turned to Henry and said again the word, "Master!", this time with a more alluring tone to her voice.
Finally those eyes rested upon mine. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth and ran slowly across her bottom lip. Restrained though she was by the ropes, she thrust her titties out at me and said wantonly, in a deep, throaty almost male voice, "Master!"
A cry of victor rose from the three of us. We had succeeded. And now it was time to enjoy the fruits of our labor.
Chapter Twenty-Three
"We'll draw straws, then," said M. Krempe. We could not decide who would enjoy what, and this seemed the ideal solution.
Now that Crea had been brought indoors, bathed, her hair shampooed with a pleasing rosewater, and her body powdered and perfumed and her nipples rouged, she stood naked before the large fireplace, awaiting our instructions.
"The one who has the longest chooses first," the professor went on. "He with second longest chooses second, and so on."
"Agreed," I said, and Henry nodded.
M. Krempe tore three straws from the broom, broke one in half, the other half of that. He walked to Crea and said, "My dear, will you do the honors?"
"Of course, Master," she said demurely.
Fortunately the brain, parts of the original woman, parts from her twin, and the base of metal, seemed to have survived the experiment —we did not need to teach her basics like reading and speaking.
She played with the straws behind her back, so that we might not see what she was doing, which action thrust those delicious nipples at us. I knew the other two were as anxious as myself to suck and bite them. My only hope was that she was both receptive and yet able to instigate pleasure, for I needed her to function on both counts if she was to be a suitable gift for Elizabeth.
When the straws were brought out in front, it was impossible to tell the length of any from the way she held them.
She walked across the room, those hips swaying, breasts bobbing, cock nodding up and down. I must admit that the erect cock jutting out looked a tad out of place. But, as the professor had pointed out, one had the option to use whichever sexual avenue one preferred, which certainly made sense to me now, and it is always good to have choices.
Henry drew first. His straw looked long, until the professor drew his. "Hah!" M. Krempe shouted, showing us that his was the longest. Until I pulled my own, the longest still.
"Fine," I said. "I shall enter Crea from behind."
"You mean the anus," the professor clarified.
"No, I mean the vagina. I shall break her maidenhead."
"Good. Now that that is settled," and here he turned to Crea, "you shall use that mouth and those lips well on my member, or suffer for it."
Her eyes flashed, and her pelvis thrust forward slightly in a note of defiance or lust, I could not tell which. "Yes Master, as you wish."
"Well," said Henry, "I'll take the cock in my bottom hole. It's what I'm use to, so I shall know if it's doing the job it should."
Each seemed satisfied with his choice. Henry lay on a low cot on his stomach, his legs pulled up under him to expose his hole. Crea wasted no time. She moved to the cot and squatted down. Her cock found his opening without being guided. She leaned forward and lay over him as she entered deep.
Henry emitted a low moan, then a cry of "I'd not expected this!" for the length was enormous. To say that it was in proportion to Crea's excessive height was not an exaggeration. We had only just begun and Henry was already twitching in orgasm.
M. Krempe was disgusted with Cherval's lack of restraint. "You do not have the makings of a scientist," he assured my friend, waving me forward impatiently. I had never entered a woman's cunny before and had no idea what to expect. My cock, though, seemed to find the notion to his liking.
Crea's ass cheeks were spread as wide as the circumstances permitted; I could see the dark bottom hole, which I would explore another tim
e, and below that the red slit leading inward. I stood behind her naked, and guided my member to that slit.
It was like a mouth, moist, opening at the slight pressure. My cock slid in with no difficulty, to a point. The woman we'd had to work with was not intact, so we had taken the opportunity to manufacture an artificial hymen. Now that I had reached the barrier, I felt a determination in my groin grow to pass it.
At her other end I watched the professor's cock slide quickly into Crea's mouth. Her head fell back, the long black hair dangling down almost to Henry's back. I could not see her lips but from the slurping noises and the look on the professor's face knew that Crea was attending to him properly.
Crea began to move, thrusting into Henry's behind, using her mouth as a tube to rub along the professor's shaft. All that remained was for me to tear open her door and impale that canal.
Heat rose through my body, and my balls tightened with the pressure I felt in them. My wad of juices was ready to expel once entry had been made.
I grabbed her thrusting hips and pulled my own hips back the few inches to the edge of her opening. The area was moist and warm and surrounded me in a caress like a kiss. With great vigor, I thrust hard, forcing the stitches apart. A long and low moan came from Crea. My cock traveled the length of her tight tunnel, grabbed and tugged en route by the marvelous folds of flesh.
This was too exciting, and I came at once. I needn't have worried about being premature. Crea seemed to have been designed to come at the mere thought of a command. And come she did, jerking and spasming around me, her mouth sucking the liquid from the professor, and fucking Henry's asshole to orgasm.
When this first endeavour had been accomplished, we cracked open a bottle of champagne. M. Krempe half filled four flutes and we toasted success.
Crea lounged on a chaise sipping the sweet-tart wine, her eyes wide like those of a virgin tasting it for the first time. I found the look delightfully endearing. Henry sat at her feet on the carpet, and the professor stood by the blazing fireplace.
We four were naked as newborns. My eye could only see beauty of form that night, and indeed Henry's fair, freckly skin,
M. Krempe's tanner hide, and my own middling complexion all glowed beneath firm muscles, our bodies full of vigour.
Crea lay with her long legs stretched out, slightly parted. Coquettishly she had loosely hung a wispy scarf about her throat. One end dangled between her breasts and brushed the ever-erect cock, the other end had been thrown back over those broad masculine shoulders. Her dark hair framing those rosy cheeks. Her breasts were full and firm, the red nipples as constantly erect as the penis. Beneath a flat stomach raged that enormous, beckoning hard on, and below that, barely hidden in her red forest, a delicious moist cave of love.
She smiled demurely about the room and turned slightly, more onto her hip, showing the slimness of her waist and curve of her buttocks.
"Tell us, Crea," I said, wondering if it would be rude to pull out a paper and quill and record her first statement, "how did it feel to be born? Or was it more re-born?"
"Oh, Master Frankenstein, we felt drawn from a dark well towards a sharp and painful white light. We did not at first wish to move towards that burning glow, yet knew it was in our best interests to do so. And we also understood that the singeing would not only be painful but pleasurable, in equal proportion. It was as though the light took us and shook us until we might burst from pleasure."
Well, I thought, this is curious, and M. Krempe mirrored my thoughts with his words. "You speak in the plural. Do you feel the presence of more than one being within your skin?"
Her blue eye looked innocent enough, but the brown one appeared cagey; at the time I thought I must have misread that. For what would there be to be cagey about?
She glanced down at the carpet, tilting back, it seemed to me, those pert little nipples so that they jutted so prettily up in the air that I was tempted to cross the room and take one between my teeth. Before I could move or banish the thought, the professor continued.
"Here, girl, my question requires an answer! You will speak when spoken to. After all, you are our creation."
"Yes, Master Krempe," she said, but we all heard the petulant quality to her voice.
"Well, here's a wrinkle," said Henry. "Or is it?"
"We shall indeed find out directly," M. Krempe said. He walked to the wall and took down the black strap, saying, "If a wrinkle it be, this should smooth it out."
Crea watched him with those wide round eyes, the blue one normal enough, the brown one revealing a glimmer of excitement.
M. Krempe pulled an Ottoman into the middle of the room. "Crea, you will lie across this and I will strap your ass until you are repentant for your audacity. Impertinence will not be tolerated. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master Krempe," she said, although her tone now expressed a pouty quality, and her full bottom lip stuck out. She picked her long lean frame up from the chaise and unnaturally slowly it seemed to me, sauntered across the room. When she reached the Ottoman, she stared at it for a long while, then took her time lying across it and rearranging her body.
For a creature who had never felt the strap before, she managed to end up in a position where that delicious plump ass was very well displayed indeed, and lifted so that the angle for contact with the hard leather would offer the hide the largest area with which to work.
M. Krempe was not one to waste time. He lay the leather on her three times in quick succession. Her bottom jumped at each strike and delightful little cries emerged from her lips.
He gave her three more, and she sang the same tune. Her bottom blushed, and I was glad we had decided to keep the female cheeks, which were fleshier and more prone to color.
My member rose to the occasion, hoping to see all there was to see, no doubt. Crea reminded me of myself not one year ago when my own bottom had first been trained by the discipline inflicted on it by Elizabeth. I knew the startled delight Crea felt and envied her that. But at the same time, I felt excited. Watching that virgin bottom highlighted so aroused me. A quick glance told me that Henry and the professor were likewise affected.
"Have you learned your lesson, then?" the professor asked.
Crea said nothing. Very slowly she turned her head and looked behind her, at me, then Henry, then directly up at the professor. Her eyes expressed both lust and playfulness. And more insolence. I knew in that second that she wanted more.
"Yes, Master Krempe, we have," she said, the tone so filled with deception that the lie rang around the room.
Rather than fall for the ploy to whip her more, as she was no doubt eager to have him do, the professor merely crossed his arms over his chest. "I see," he said. "Then we are finished."
Her face all but fell. She struggled to maintain that mask which said she could take the strap or leave it, as any of her masters saw fit.
"Now," the professor said, turning his back to her, "are you aware of more than one personality within your heart and mind?"
"Oh no, Master. That would be impossible, for we are but one flesh. How could we be more within?"
"Indeed. Then why do you use the plural?"
"In order to please our three masters, Master Krempe. We address each of you at once and bring to each fresh bits of ourselves. Did not each of you enter or be entered by us in a different location, claiming ownership there?"
"And do you believe that only I own your mouth, and Victor is the sole proprietor of your cunt, and —?"
"Oh no, Master Krempe. You each own all of us."
"I see. Then this avoidance on your part to explain the use of we is not a deliberate ploy to gain attention that will focus on that same spot of your flesh which even now seems to crave a licking."
Well, this obviously stymied her. If she said no, it was not a ploy, the strap might be hung back on the wall. If she said yes, it was, then she might not receive that which she asked for because it would be her will, and not the will of one of her masters. For by a
sking, it would cease to be punishment but a reward.
Finally, when the dilemma within her could not be resolved, M. Krempe decided for her. I imagine from the state of his cock, which Crea could not see, it was more his desire to watch her bottom blaze and to see how far this type of foreplay would take her. Just how far could our creature be aroused? And what was required to bring her to her knees, as it were?
These were questions I would need answered before I shipped her off to Elizabeth. For this prototype had been designed with the needs of my loved one in mind. If Crea could be sated with the strap alone, this would be a success. If, on the other hand, the strap only fanned her flames and those same flames needed additional fuel, then this could be a flaw. I wanted a human machine that would occupy Elizabeth, yet not fuck her. That was my job, and I wanted no competition. Elizabeth wanted lickings, and she wanted them badly. That I could provide, in person, or through my inventions. But the licking of cunts and receiving of cocks in her anus was another dimension, one which would draw her loyalties away from me, and one I would not stand.
Still, though, the notion that Crea was excitable was appealing. It was a question of directing her abilities to the person she served. With the professor, Henry and I, it was one agenda, with Elizabeth, I intended to train Crea to perform differently.
M. Krempe lay the strap on enthusiastically now. He was a powerful man, who had sculled in his youth. The sound of leather smacking quivering flesh, and the little moans and cries delighted my cock, who shot his load instantly.
I needn't have worried, for the strapping took the better part of an hour, and my fellow revived almost immediately to shoot again.
For how could he not? That plump, eager fanny turned from pink to red to crimson, to scarlet and still showed no signs of tiring. Crea squirmed, but not to escape the leather, more to help it reach those spots least affected.
Darker Passions: Frankenstein Page 12
