Steampunk Bundle Teasers #3: Miss Pierce’s Position

There’s barely more than a week left before the Steampunk Bundle disappears! In the lead-up to that heartbreaking moment, we’ll be running some hot excerpts from each of the volumes in the bundle. Our third excerpt is from The Erotofluidic Age by Vinnie Tesla, from the second story, “Miss Pierce’s Position.” This passage does contain implicit spoilers for the first story in the series, so if you have the book already but haven’t read it yet, you may wish to hold off on reading this.

The Circlet Press Steampunk Erotica Bundle
Five full books! Circlet Press's steamiest steampunk works all in one bundle. A discreet brothel staffed by robots. A theatre that enacts your most secret fantasies. A mad scientist whose machines are powered by human arousal. And more. Each of the stylish, sexy, and surprising books here takes Victorian science fiction to delicious new places!

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“Ah, Daedalus,” the new Mrs. Dalrymple sighed, “if it is any comfort, you do make rather a handsome Geoduck.”
As she spoke, she gently stroked along the length of my siphon, her soft fingers producing powerful sensations along my bare, wrinkled skin. I found myself shivering slightly under her touch.
“The time in London was lovely, but it was awfully lonely just Victor and me,” she said softly. “I have been looking forward to having my dear friends about me again.” She leaned down and kissed me softly on the top of my siphon.
Her breath seemed at that moment unutterably sweet, full of thrilling promise. I felt the heat rising from her skin, causing my own to prickle and warm in sympathy. My Geoduck senses, attuned to detect the immaterial substance of human arousal itself, caused her to fairly glow with a thrilling radiance. I could see her skin flush and her eyes sparkle as my prehensile siphon swelled beneath her hand, thickening and lengthening slightly as its wrinkles smoothed and its limberness gave way to near rigidity.
At that moment, Dewey appeared at the end of the corridor. “Uncle,” he said, “is Miss Pierce still–”
His voice broke the spell of Eleanor’s intoxicating proximity, and I sprang into the air, flying gracelessly towards the shelter of my nephew and the relief from temptation that he appeared to offer. He held out his arms for me to land on, then attempted to stroke me soothingly once I had perched. Another overwhelming wave of unwelcome pleasure overtook me. DON’T, I squawked, and he withdrew his hand apologetically.
A moment later, I was fairly crushed between two bosoms as Eleanor embraced Dewey, peppering his face with affectionate kisses. “Oh, Dewey, dear boy! How I have missed you!” she exclaimed.
It would perhaps be best to explain at this juncture that Eleanor is endowed by Nature with a temperament warm and generous almost to a fault, a quality which has served only to endear her the further to her husband, who, secure in her affections, permits her the greatest freedom in what other enjoyments she pursues.
In this case, however, the pursuit offered little enough sport, with the game fairly caught ere the first horn had been blown. Seducing my nephew is no great challenge for near any biped with a mind to do so, and Dewey’s acquaintance with Mrs. Dalrymple had been of the very warmest sort since before his elevation to the human race.
“Eleanor,” he gasped, “your kisses make me quite giddy.”
“Come, Dewey,” she answered, taking him firmly by the hand, “let us waste no time in renewing our friendship.”
Wherewith, she pulled him, stumbling, in the direction of her and Victor’s bedroom. I struggled to free myself from his grasp, but he had apparently been rendered insensible to my very existence.
In a moment she had dragged him into the room and was prodding him towards the bed. Release me this very instant! I quacked, and he absentmindedly complied, tumbling me painfully to the floor just as the door swung shut behind Eleanor’s impatiently flung heel.

The pair fell one way while I ran the other, they collapsing onto the bed in a frantic embrace, myself hastening in the vain hope that the door might somehow have failed to latch.
No such luck was to be had. I looked around, and already Eleanor had thrown her skirt up about her waist and nimbly climbed Dewey’s recumbent form to press his unresisting face against her furry motte.
The doorknob, Dewey, I quacked with little hope, but indeed Eleanor’s thighs had so muffled all sound that he showed not the slightest sign of having heard me.
I decided to look about for another means of escape but found myself rooted to the spot, transfixed by the sight of Mrs. Dalrymple’s elegant stockinged calves and exquisitely soft pale thighs, her ample bottom rotating slowly over Dewey’s trapped face. Her expressions likewise held my attention as they moved from gentle pleasure to fierce ardour, and thence to one more lost and abstracted, her mouth falling open and her eyes fluttering nearly shut as her cries rose in pitch and timbre.
Dewey’s hands had meanwhile not been idle, one caressing the smooth expanse of Eleanor’s bottom, while the other unfastened his trousers to release his slender pego, red and rigid, already slick with the anticipatory fluid he produced in such extraordinary abundance.
Eleanor leaned forward now, like a jockey urging his steed to grater efforts, chewing on the knuckles of one hand to stifle her screams of delight until she convulsed with pleasure, and then she dismounted unsteadily, revealing Dewey’s red and shining face, his golden hair hopelessly tousled by her grasping fingers.
Doorknob, I quacked forlornly, but my voice was choked by the intensity of the emotions that suffused me, and neither Dewey nor Eleanor gave any sign of having heard me.
With practiced hands, Dewey assisted Eleanor in removing her gown and stays, and in minutes she stood quite perfectly naked in the centre of the room. Her gravidity had just begun to work its changes on her body. Her bosom had swelled a bit, her aureoles darkening from a delicate pink to a Capuchin brown. Her belly had acquired a subtle convexity since last I had seen it. The breath caught in my siphon to behold her; the blood pounded in my nozzle.
Dewey, too, had divested himself of his clothes by this time, and she swarmed upon him, running her face over his near-hairless chest, his flat belly. His rubicund affair left glistening trails across her face as she rubbed it over her cheeks before taking it into her mouth for a moment of exquisite suction that caused him to gasp and arch his back.
Then she rolled off of him, rising to her hands and knees facing me, then waggling her hips in provocative invitation. Dewey crouched behind her, and I could read the moment of penetration in their intent expressions more clearly than if I had seen it directly.
“Oh, Eleanor,” Dewey groaned, as he pressed his hips against hers, “how I have missed you.”
“And I you, dear Dewey,” Eleanor answered. “Faster, I pray you. I need your dear cock so!”
Dewey complied, accelerating his thrusts so that Eleanor’s soft bosoms shook bewitchingly. She raised up her shoulders the better to counterbalance his forceful pounding, and her eyes fell upon myself, yet standing transfixed in front of the door.
“Daedalus,” she called out between gasps, “come join us!”
I shook my siphon in absolute refusal. But howsoever unwilling the spirit, the flesh was yet weak, and my rebellious legs took step after step towards the shaking bed. Frozen at its foot, I stood a time, trembling with thwarted desire, as Eleanor cradled her head in her arms, her whole body shaking at each thrust from the slender lad behind her. Finally, my resistance crumbled, and I flapped up to the foot of the bed. Both Dewey and Eleanor paused in their thrusting to smile welcomingly at me, and Eleanor reached out her hand and gripped my siphon, squeezing with a force I might otherwise have expected to be painful, but which at that moment sent the most exquisite pleasure rushing through me.
By that grip, she dragged me forward, and she ran her exquisitely hot and moist tongue over the tip of my nozzle, hungrily lapping up the slick fluid that by now ran down as copiously as if I were Dewey himself. Months of pent-up desire rose within me like Leviathan from his pelagic trench.
As Dewey redoubled the speed of his thrusts, her sharp little teeth nipped at my shaft, serving only to add piquancy to the pleasure suffusing my form.
Eleanor was sucking now at the tip of my siphon, enclosing me utterly in darkness, warmth, and exquisite pressure.
Faintly, from outside, I heard Dewey crying out as he neared his crisis. Eleanor’s mouth released my siphon for an instant, and I drew in a great gasping breath, not realizing that I had been holding it. I smelled arousal–male, female, and Geoduck–sweat, lavender powder, and… ozone? “I spend!” Dewey gasped, and a flickering blue radiance filled the room. Not now! I quacked.
For a single moment the blue lightning played over Dewey’s rapidly-contracting form. I sprang away, but the glow leapt from him to me, and I found myself nude and fully human, tumbling off the foot of the bed.

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