Steampunk Desires: An Erotic Romance (The Complete Collection)

by Wilde, Sophia

  Steampunk Desires

  The Complete Collection

  Volumes One - Five

  By Sophia Wilde

  © 2014

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  And above all – Enjoy

  ~Volume One~

  The giant vessel loomed in front of her as she cautiously picked her way along the wooden dock. The HMS Rapturion was the newest of Air Cruise Co. fleet, the pinnacle of 19th century technology, elegance, and luxury. Eleanor paused, her breath pausing with her as the first beams of sunlight struck the Rapturion. Its skin was of leather, tightly stretched over a brass skeleton. Enormous windows, rimmed by polished brass frames, reflected blue in the early light, like giant beads of water on the golden-tan vessel. A long wooden gangplank of fine stained wood, wide enough for four to fit abreast, connected the aft starboard corner of the ship to the dock, its ornate, carved handrails hinting at the luxury that awaited the patrons. Eleanor was not one of those; as part of the propulsion crew, she was responsible for providing power to the ship, and this was her workplace.

  Eleanor had taken the job out of desperation; the thought of being thousands of feet above the earth frightened her, and although Air Cruise Co. had been operating these luxury lines for several years, the technology was still new. But there was no work at the workhouses, and her family had not been privileged enough to marry her off to someone who could provide for her. Not wanting to be a burden, she had left her family to seek her own way. It had led her here. In her tattered shoes and threadbare dress, she must have seemed a stark contrast to the grandeur of the ship onto which she was about to embark.

  Only days before, she'd answered the call of one of the street criers seeking men and women to join the Rapturion's crew. Cleaning, laundering, waiting, porting, and propulsion were among the roles the fledgling ship needed filled. She'd found the address easily enough and stepped into the elegant office, been shown to the interviewing room, and quickly placed in the propulsion crew. It had happened so fast, and now, looking at the massive ship she was about to enter, she was having second thoughts. But, she thought, it was this or starvation, and she resolved herself to press on. Holding onto the handrail, she cautiously boarded.

  The inside was as splendid as the outside. Warm light fell from countless electric chandeliers overhead, and thick, luxurious carpet spread below her feet. The walls were adorned here and there with paintings, tapestries, and even marble and jade statues. In spite of the chill outside, everything here was warm and inviting. She paused, uncertain of where to go.

  "May I help you, madam?" a voice asked directly in front of her. She was startled; she'd seen no one when she boarded. A tall usher in a crimson tuxedo jacket, black pants, and black patent-leather shoes regarded her with genuine interest. She did not seem to have the funds to ride even third class, and he was curious why she was here so early.

  "Um, yes, please, sir," Eleanor said, "I'm, er, starting my first day here, and I'm not sure where to go."

  "Ah, yes, very good," the usher replied. "And, ah, what is it that you're to do?"

  "I'm part of the, er..." Eleanor trailed off as she fumbled through her plain handbag, the only thing she carried, looking for her papers. Finding them, she declared triumphantly, "propulsion!"

  The usher smiled, amused at her enthusiasm. "Very good, my dear," he said. "Go to your right, just there," he said, pointing with a white-gloved hand, "and go down the stairs, eight flights, and you'll be on the propulsion deck. Someone there should be able to direct you to your quarters."

  "Thank you, sir!" Eleanor said, relieved, making an attempt at a curtsy and departing for the stairs.

  The stairs were carpeted the same as the deck had been, and the handrails matched the elegance of those on the gangplank, if they didn't surpass it. As she descended, she noticed the luxuries diminishing. The second floor was marked "Second Class, Floor 1" with a frosted glass window. The carpeting was less luxurious here, and the handrails lost their ornate character. The third floor was likewise marked, "Second Class, Floor 2." The fourth through sixth floors were marked "Third Class," floors 1 through 3, with polished brass emblems and plain finished wood. The seventh floor was marked "Crew." She came to the next floor, marked "Engineering" in brass letters. That seemed like a strange name for a floor on a ship, but she didn't care to think about it; she wanted to be on time for her first day, and so many flights of stairs had made her breathless. The handrails had changed to utilitarian metal ones.

  At the landing between the engineering and propulsion floors, the carpet disappeared, replaced by plain white, non-skid paint. Clearly the luxury of the ship was not intended for the propulsion crew. As she made her way down the final few stairs, the word "Propulsion" appeared, stenciled on in black letters above the doorway, and the deck came into view. A large space lay before her, littered with couches, beds, tables, and chairs. It looked like an enormous lounge. Many people were already here, men and women, but Eleanor was shocked to find that few, if any, had clothes on. In embarrassment, she turned to go back up the stairs.

  "Oy! Who are you?" a white-haired man with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache asked. By the grace of God, he had clothes on.

  "I-I'm, er, ah, that is," Eleanor stuttered. The man lifted an eyebrow in amusement. "Cat got yer tongue, missy? All right, have it your way; I'll go first. Name's Edwin. Not Edward, not Eddy, not Ed." He lifted his eyebrow again in a mock-stern look. "Don't be calling me Ed," he warned. Then, with a grin, he continued, "All right, that's me. Now who's you?"

  Edwin did have a winning charm, Eleanor thought, sighing in relief. "Oh, hello, Edwin. I'm Eleanor. I'm very pleased to meet you."

  "Eleanor, eh? What're you doing down here, Eleanor?" Edwin asked curiously.

  "Er, the usher upstairs sent me down here. I'm starting with the propulsion crew today, and he said this is where I was to go. This is the propulsion floor, is it not?"

  "Deck," Edwin corrected, sighing and rolling his eyes, "the propulsion deck, you mean."

  "Oh, er, yes, the propulsion deck," Eleanor replied.

  Edwin smiled wryly, "Oh, you land-lubbers. Ah, well, we'll make a propulsion hand out of you, yet! Welcome aboard. I'm the supervisor down here, the overseer, the facilitator, the king kahuna!" He beat his chest grandiosely, "...but you can just call me 'boss' or 'Edwin.'"

  Eleanor burst into a wide smile: this guy must be a wonderful man to work for, infinitely better than the cold-hearted taskmasters at the workhouses. She turned just as a naked woman approached, carrying a golden, phallic object with a cord coming out of it. Eleanor started.

  "Edwin, I think my brass sock's broken," the woman said matter-of-factly, not at all concerned about her nudity or Eleanor's presence.

  "Again? Agatha, you've got to quit wearing them out so fast!" Edwin replied, taking the item in his hand and looking over it intently. After a few minutes, he shook his head. "Sure enough, you wore it out," he grinned ruefully. "Go grab you another one from my stateroom."

  "Yes, sir," A
gatha said, turning.

  "Oh, but wait! You must meet Eleanor, one of the new members of the crew!" Edwin said, placing a hand on Eleanor's shoulder by way of introduction.

  "Oh, how do you do?" Agatha said, curtsying neatly, her manner not unfriendly but not welcoming, either.

  "How do you do," Eleanor replied shyly.

  "Agatha here is one of our best workers," Edwin beamed. "Her output is easily ten percent above the next-highest worker, and she's consistent!"

  Eleanor bit her lip, and asked at a whisper, "Why is she naked?"

  "Er, what's that? Speak up!"

  Eleanor sighed uncomfortably, settled herself, and asked again, "Why is she naked?"

  Agatha and Edwin exchanged glances, and Edwin opened his mouth deliberately. "Ah, yes. Well, Eleanor, the propulsion crew is responsible for keeping this barge aloft," he explained slowly, "and thanks to the marvels of modern technology, we no longer need coal or wood. We can do it all through electricity!"

  Eleanor stared at him blankly, not seeing how this had anything to do with anything.

  Edwin paused, brows furrowed, and then as if he'd remembered something, continued abruptly, "We produce the electricity through fornication, Eleanor."

  Agatha smiled, looking expectantly at Eleanor, who just stared, dumbfounded, for several seconds. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She was thinking very seriously of turning for the stairs again, but her curiosity got the better of her.

  "Fornication?" she asked, disbelieving, "How do you turn fornication into electricity?"

  "Ah, well, it's very simple. You see, you find yourself a partner," Edwin began, looking around the room for a candidate. "Hey, Albert! Come here a moment!" A good-looking blond man lifted his head from across the room and made his way over.

  "Eleanor, this is Albert. He's Agatha's counterpart on the man's side," Edwin said, and Albert beamed humbly, kissing Eleanor's hand. "Albert, Eleanor is new, and so I'm explaining how we make electricity from sex." Albert nodded, smiling pleasantly at Eleanor.

  "This," Edwin said, holding up the broken device, "is a 'Power Collection Apparatus,' as it's technically called–"

  "But we call it the brass sock. 'Cause it looks like a brass sock," Agatha chimed in. Eleanor nodded slowly.

  "Yes, yes," Edwin continued, "As you get turned on, your body does some amazing things that the brass sock is able to pick up and convert to electricity. But the magical part is when you climax. If the energy produced is here when you're stimulated," he said, holding his hand at knee-level, "it's up here when you orgasm." He held his hand above his head, eyes sparkling with wonder. "It's all very scientific stuff that I don't really understand. You'd have to ask Harriet, if you can find her." The three veterans exchanged knowing glances: Harriet was hardly seen, if ever. "All you need to know is that your job down here will be to orgasm often. As long as everybody is orgasming down here, this bird will stay in the air." He patted the wall next to the stairwell affectionately.

  Eleanor closed her eyes tightly, trying to make sense of it. "So..." she began, "you're saying that I've been called here to fornicate?"

  The three nodded happily. Eleanor closed her mouth slowly, taking a breath. "Why did my interviewer ask me if I was a virgin?"

  The three exchanged glances again, and Agatha took over. "Since there is so much sex going on, we can't afford to be passing around any disease," she explained. "I'm sure the interviewer examined you?"

  Eleanor nodded, embarrassed. Although it hadn't hurt, it had been a humiliating experience with the interviewer asking, firmly, for her to expose herself and allow herself to be subjected to various poking and prodding. She'd been relieved when it was over.

  "He was just making sure that you were really a virgin," Agatha continued. "For men, it's harder to tell, but I'm sure that as soon as he saw that you were, in fact, a virgin, he sent you straight to us. Virgins are harder to find than you'd expect," she said wistfully.

  Eleanor bit her lip. Lack of opportunity had kept her from being deflowered, not lack of interest. This suddenly, although strange, seemed very exciting to her. She licked her bottom lip subconsciously, and Edwin noticed.

  "Not such a bad deal, eh?" he asked, grinning. Eleanor smiled shyly. "I'll tell you what," Edwin said, "let me give you a tour, and then you can watch Albert and Agatha demonstrate. Then, if Albert is up to it, we'll let him show you the ropes."

  Eleanor flushed. Albert was easy on the eyes with his swimmer's body and medium-length blonde hair swept off to one side. His brown eyes shone like gold when he smiled, and he exuded both gentility and masculinity. The thought of him taking her was, to say the least, very agreeable to her. She smiled and nodded.

  "Excellent! Agatha, go get a new sock, and get one for Eleanor, too," Edwin said. "Albert, go...be Albert." He grinned with a dismissive wave of the hand, and Albert chuckled, bowing slightly and taking his leave. He looked forward to introducing the new recruit, and he waved, looking back over his shoulder as he went.

  "Now, let's get on with the tour!" Edwin said, and then stopped abruptly, amusedly watching Eleanor waving and staring dreamily after Albert, who by now had turned and gone. "Oy, you'll fit right in," he chuckled. Eleanor caught herself abruptly and turned to follow Edwin.

  They made their way counterclockwise around the outside of the large area. "This is the common area," Edwin explained. "When you're not working, you can relax here, enjoy the company of your mates, read a book," he gestured to a stack of books neatly stacked in a wooden rack to their right. Several similar racks dotted the walls.

  "Food and drink are free; we believe that in light of the importance of the work we do here and the physical intensity it takes to do that work, food should be widely abundant," Edwin continued, gesturing to a large buffet set up along the wall furthest from the stairs on the far end of the common area. "Feel free to eat or drink as much as you want, but don't let it interfere with your job."

  They came to a hallway at one of the sides of the common area and proceeded down it. To the right, portholes at head height allowed them to look out and see the dock; to the left, many white doors.

  "These are the cabins," Edwin continued. "Yours will be further down the hall; we'll get to it momentarily. The women's quarters are to starboard; the men's are to port on the other side of the ship. In between, you'll find the propulsion rooms. We'll visit there next." They continued down the hallway for what seemed like a long time; they must have passed a hundred cabins before they came to a wide hallway on the left that extended clear to the other side of the ship. It was lit with bare incandescent bulbs, strung along the ceiling. They turned and followed the hallway. Halfway down, they came to an alcove with a door to the left, that is, aft, and one to the right. Edwin opened the door on the left, and they entered.

  Inside were rows and rows of simple cots. Next to each cot were several sockets in the floor and a nightstand with a bound book, a fountain pen, and a clock. Some of the beds were empty and well made, but most had a man and a woman in various stages of foreplay or copulation. Moans came from everywhere, and the place reeked everywhere of sex. Each couple had a cable sticking into one of the plugs that extended from their brass socks. If a man was alone, he wore a brass sock on his phallus; otherwise, the sock was inserted into a woman's vagina, and the only indication that it was there to the onlookers was the cord that made its way to the plug in the floor.

  Edwin led Eleanor down one of the rows for a better look. "You see the plugs on the floor? See the gauges next to them? Have a look." Eleanor looked at the gauge, which read about ten percent. "They're just playing around at this point, just got started," Edwin said. He glanced around, then took Eleanor by the arm and hurried her over to a couple that was in the throes of orgasm. The gauge was off the scale; the needle pressed hard against the right side of its glass enclosure.

  "See the difference?" Edwin asked. Eleanor nodded.

  "When you come in, sign your name on the register next to the b
ed in one of the columns. There are two: one for you, and one for your partner. In some cases, there might be more than two of you, and so you'll just draw a vertical line like this to group with the next row down," he said, demonstrating. "Record the time, too. It's very important that you do this; it's how we keep track of everybody's contribution." His tone lowered into a warning. "Make no mistake. I'm a fun-loving guy and an easy boss, but I do demand that everybody earns his or her keep. If you're slacking off consistently, I'll know," he said, raising his eyebrows for emphasis, "and I don't take kindly to stowaways." Eleanor nodded, understanding. "Each person is expected to orgasm at least twice a day," he said. "If you get off more, great; you only have to get off fourteen times a week. If you get done early, you can take the day off. Most of the crew, though," he said with a chuckle, "does much more than that. I'm sure you can guess why." Eleanor grinned.

  The two made their way out of the propulsion room and crossed the hall to the other door. Inside, it looked the same, but there were no men; there were only women in here, and sometimes three or four would be together sharing in orgasmic bliss.