A tale of artists, intrigue, and the magical renaissance

Twisted Smut 1 – Loquitur Enim Os Rhetorem {Uses For a Rhetor’s Mouth}

It was the day of graduation for Alfonso Fonte, and Capitano Fonte was grumpy and nervous. He was grumpy because the day of graduation for any Rhetorguard involved stacks of paperwork, signatures, organization, and typically a speech, and thus he always dreaded them. He was nervous because his nephew, Alfonso Fonte, was not ready to take on the black armor of a Rhetorguard.

Had the young man been anyone but family, the Capitano’s hunch would be enough to prevent the boy from graduating. In theory it was still enough; he could wave a hand and keep the young man in training for as long as he felt it was needed. Despite the boy’s excellent progress, impeccable combat skill, and stellar scores on any test of mental fortitude the Guardhouse to put to him, no one questioned the Capitano’s gut.

But the boy’s mother was Gianna, the Capitano’s sister, and she had only just recently begun speaking to him again. He knew how his sister’s mind worked. Without a factual excuse to back up his instincts, holding the boy back would be seen as an insult, one that would never be forgiven.

Capitano Fonte heaved a sigh, pushed his instincts down to the back of his mind, and pulled the first set of papers towards himself.

 


 

 

Alfonso liked the design on his armor. It was such a small thing to bring him joy on this incredibly joyful day, but it had been the one singular thing that had been worrying him. Each set of armor had a different design, lines of silver worked into the matte black of the armor, which would  match the design worked into the mask of the Rhetor he would be assigned. With his scores and training, the thought that he might not graduate didn’t even cross his mind. He only hoped he wouldn’t hate the design.

The blacksmiths must’ve known him well, because the design was perfect. A pair of squires helped fasten the armor onto him for the first and only time as he stood tall and proud in front of the assembled Capitanos of the Rhetorguard. After this day of formalities he would fasten it himself. His teachers looked proud too, for the most part, although his uncle Capitano Fonte was glowering.

He probably shouldn’t want to look too happy, Alfonso reasoned, lest he be accused of favoritism.

“Rhetorguard Fonte, I officially welcome you to the ranks of one of the most noble professions.” Capitano Fonte said. “And now that you have joined our ranks, we present you with your first charge.” A new squire led the Rhetor into the small stone room, and Alfonso took a deep breath and turned to face the person he would be guarding for the next five years.

She was already wearing her mask, the design a perfect scaled-down match of the one on his chest, and her hands were manacled in front of her. Despite the restraints, she was holding her chin up and meeting his gaze, as if refusing to act like the pseudo-prisoner that she was. Without being able to see the set of her chin, Alfonso wasn’t quite sure what her expression was, but he was sure he would get a read on her as time passed. The girl stood just a little shorter than him, with long yellow hair and tan skin. Her eyes were a sky blue, and there were freckles on her nose above the mask.

Attractive, in a way, but the Rhetor…my Rhetor now, I suppose…was nothing particularly special, and he was glad of it. A Rhetor that was too beautiful posed a risk of someone falling in love with her, and while he couldn’t discourage his charge from starting a relationship, a Rhetorguard’s obligation to be with their Rhetor every second made such relationships…awkward.

Alfonso unlocked her manacles and went through the customary speech without much thought, distracted by the mental image of the woman wrapped in the arms of some lover. It would be too uncomfortable for words, having to stand guard over that sort of scene like a perverted gargoyle. And what man would ever be her lover? Knowing that if she uttered a word Alfonso would have to cut their tryst short by cutting her throat?

On the other hand, the sight itself wouldn’t be too unpleasant. His Rhetor’s tan skin contrasted well with her pretty yellow hair, and she was wearing a simple dress of light blue that went well with both. It was a well tailored dress, one that showed off the curves of her body. Her hips were perfect, and the top of her dress was just low enough to glimpse the dip between the slope of her ample breasts.

Alfonso suddenly realised that the Rhetor was holding two fingers directly in his line of sight. As soon as he noticed, she slowly raised them until she was pointing at her eyes. Alfonso blushed, only then realizing exactly where he had been staring. He was fairly sure the Rhetor’s eyes had a wicked twinkle in them as he cleared his throat, trying to remember his training despite the flustered feeling.

“Ma’am, please do not attempt to communicate unless expressly asked a direct question.” He recited the phrase as it had been written in the instruction scrolls.

“Exactly right.” Capitano Fonte said from behind him, as he indicated the door through which the pair would start their life. Before Alfonso could feel pride at the compliment, his Uncle lowered his voice. “Although she’s not wrong, m’boy. Keep it professional.” Alfonso flushed with embarrassment.

Right. He determined, holding the door open for his Rhetor but keeping his sword-arm free in case she tried to run. From now on, I’ll keep it professional.

 


 

 

All in all, the first day of Alfonso’s guard could’ve gone worse. There had been a few times where he’d forgotten to step in and interpret his Rhetor’s desires, leaving her standing foolishly in front of a shop or fixing him with a quizzical stare, but for the most part things had gone smoothly. The pair had set up interviews at the seamstress shop where the woman in his charge was to work, they had had their first meal together without incident, and the lingering doubts that Alfonso had harboured were slowly dissipating.

The pay for the seamstress work would included room and board for the two of them, but until they started Alfonso had taken his Rhetor to a small inn on the same street, where he had hired a single room with two beds. The long day had worn on him, and he could tell from the stoop of her shoulders and the drag of her feet as she climbed the stairs that it had worn on his Rhetor as well.

Learning a Rhetor’s body language was one of the more important tasks a Rhetorguard had to handle, and Alfonso was proud that he was already getting the hang of it. Most people thought of Rhetorguards as jailors; few realized that they also acted as caretakers, knowing what their Rhetor needed and providing for their silent and in many ways helpless charges.

“The lodgings aren’t wonderful, but they’ll do for the next few days until we can move into the seamstress rooms.” He said as they entered the dingy room. His Rhetor only gave it a cursory glance around before setting her pack down at the foot of one of the beds. She had that habit, he’d noted, seeming to take in a whole room with a single glance. It was a little unnerving.

Alfonso sat on the other and pulled his boots off, rubbing his aching heels. Locked in the safety of the small room he could relax his guard just a touch; the key to her mask hung on a chain around his neck, and to escape the room she would need to get past him. He stretched his shoulders and leaned back as he watched her run a wooden comb through her golden hair. Her back was to him, and he allowed himself to stare again, enjoying the sight of her while at the same time musing over his new life.

Did she hate him, for representing the guards that would be overseeing her for the rest of her life? He hoped that they might someday be friendly with one another, but was it even fair to ask that of her? What person wanted to be friends with their keeper?

“I wish I could ask you what thoughts were running through your head right now.” He said without thinking. The Rhetor turned and raised a quizzical eyebrow, expressive even with only half of her face showing. Alfonso blushed and hastened to explain. “I only mean…I used to live with my sisters and mother, before I started my training, and they were fond of giving me the silent treatment when they were angry at me…”

His Rhetor turned to sit cross-legged on the bed as he spoke, combing her hair while listening intently.

“…anyways, I guess it’s just instinct for me now, making sure that everything is alright.” He felt childish now, explaining himself to the Rhetor, but he couldn’t help it. Alfonso didn’t like people not liking him. It irked him, the thought of being around a woman who hated him, silently judging every move he made. “I’d imagine it would be pretty easy to resent me, us being in the position we’re in.” He was at least able to keep the statement from being a question.

His Rhetor shook her head, her eyes inscrutable, and he relaxed just a bit.

“Well…I’m glad then.” He said awkwardly. “I’d hate to spend so much time with you if you hated me.” She shook her head again, resuming her hair-combing and watched him through blue eyes that seemed somehow more vivid in the light of the inn.

When his Rhetor finished combing her hair and pulled a nightdress from her pack, Alfonso grit his teeth. He could guard the door of a bathroom without following her in, but he couldn’t leave her alone in the room to change her clothes; the window was small, but large enough to slip through. According to the Rhetorguard’s tenets he would have to stay, and he couldn’t even turn his back in case she tried to sneak out or attack him. He prayed to God that she knew about the tenets, that he wouldn’t have to fumblingly and awkwardly explain it to her.

She seemed a hundred times less concerned about the issue, standing and reaching behind herself to untie her dress’ fastenings. At that angle her fingers were clumsy at the strings, and she paused and half turned, fixing him with a gaze.

“You um…” Alfonso’s mouth was suddenly very dry, “…do you need help?” At her impatient nod, he rose and made his way to her, half-expecting to trip over his own feet on the way. His fingertips brushed against her skin, and he was surprised at how pleasantly cool it was, how smooth it felt. Each lace felt like it took ages to untie, and the Rhetor watching him over her shoulder made it seem longer.

“There you are, you’re undone.” Alfonso’s voice came out quieter than he meant. He tried to take a hasty step back, but somewhere along the way she had caught his wrist and turned. With the laces undone, the hemline of her dress sagged low, so low that the entire upper curve of her breasts were exposed. He could even see the hint of a brown areola, if he had been looking at her chest, and he was definitely and deliberately NOT looking. Instead he stared resolutely at a point a few inches above her head.

I am a Rhetorguard, sworn to protect Italoza from her, and to protect her from Italoza. He scolded himself harshly. I have a responsibility to this woman, to keep her safe in a world where she can’t utter a sound. It was a sobering responsibility. After all, what recourse did she have if she didn’t like him staring at her? She could complain to no one, vent to no one. Alfonso refused to put her in that situation. He would not repeat his mistake of that morning.

As if reading his mind, the Rhetor lifted two fingers, holding them above her head where he was staring. When she got his attention she drew the fingers down, and his gaze followed, over her face, down her neck, until they rested lightly on her hemline. She waited another beat, then hooked her fingers over the edge of her dress and pulled it down further, letting her breasts fall from their confinement.

“You really meant it when you said you didn’t resent me.” Alfonso stammered. How was she able to smile so prettily with just her eyes? How had she entranced him so completely that her vibrant blue eyes were more captivating to him than the tan breasts that she had just exposed to him?

She took his hand, and Alfonso didn’t resist as she lifted it to her naked shoulder. Dragging his fingertips down her smooth cool skin, she undressed herself with his hands, pushing the dress down her body. She lingered in spots that made him catch his breath; the side of a breast, the small of her back, the curve of her hip.

By the time the dress had pooled at her ankles Alfonso was staring unabashedly. She was a little thicker than he had anticipated, her body curving pleasantly as if painted by an artist with lovingly sweeping brushstrokes. The black metal mask, the only thing she now wore, somehow suited her even though it contrasted with her almost brown skin and golden hair. Everything suited her, even the messy strands of hair that fell across her face, even the thin scar on her side.

It struck him, absurdly, that he would never know how she got that scar, and the thought made him inexplicably sad.

She stepped out of the dress and slowly turned in a circle for him, making no move to cover her heavy breasts or the tuft of golden hair between her legs.

“Are you…is this…” Alfonso tried to turn his jumbled thoughts into words without sounding stupid, but the beautiful naked woman in front of him was making the task overly difficult. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Above all, he didn’t want his Rhetor to feel as if she had to seduce him to improve her situation. He was sure that other Rhetorguards would gladly accept that sort of “compensation”, and in the back of his mind he knew that some of them might even take that sort of “compensation” from their Rhetors by force.

“I don’t want you to do something just because of who I am, or who you are.” He said. Without the sight of her nude form to distract him it was easier to string words together. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to-” He was interrupted by a finger on his lips, the scent of lilies. She had stepped so close that he could almost feel her body, and his eyes being closed suddenly wasn’t enough.

Alfonso didn’t really decide to move, to grasp her body in his arms, it seemed almost instinctive. The motion of her skin against his, the feel of her hair as he ran his fingers through it and cradled her head, it was so natural that he barely thought of it.

What does she wear that makes her smell like lilies? He mused distractedly as she pulled his shirt off, hungrily holding him to her again, her breasts pressing against his bare chest. When did she have time to put it on when we’ve been together all day? Her chin was resting on his shoulder, her hair brushing against his arm, and her fingernails gently raked across his skin as they went lower and lower down his body.

When she stepped away he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The Rhetor was dropping to her knees in front of him, looking up through her hair at him with a smile in her blue eyes. The shuffle of his clothes seemed loud in the quiet room as she tugged his pants down insistently, and the air suddenly seemed cooler as he stood naked above her.

The Rhetor looked his length up and down, and Alfonso found her frank appraisal attractive. It was refreshing, that there wasn’t the slightest hesitation or embarrassment in the girl, and Alfonso smiled as he looked down at her curious expression.

“Do I pass muster?” Alfonso tried to chuckle, though it came out a little unevenly. In answer she tapped a delicate finger against her mask, then ran it gently across the head of his member, her head tilted in a question. He shivered at the contact, but tried to keep calm. The question and offer was both clear and tempting, but he forced himself to consider it logically.

Technically removing her mask isn’t against the Rhetorguard tenets, he reasoned, it comes off three times a day for meals anyways. Besides, how often will I have a woman begging to take me in her mouth?Especially now that I’ll be with her all day? No man will want her with me looming around, but no woman will be warming my bed with a Rhetor hanging around either.

“Any time you’re not wearing the mask, I’ll have to have the knife on you.” He reminded her. She nodded, her eyes locked onto his, and her fingers slid over the head of his cock again. “I mean it,” he added, fumbling at the key that hung around his neck, “you’re very-” he caught his breath when she gently brushed her nail against the underside of his shaft, “-you’re very good at that, but I still can’t let you talk.”

She nodded again, placing a finger against the silver symbol where her lips were in a ‘shushing’ gesture, and that was enough for Aflonso. She turned obligingly to let him unlock the mask, and she didn’t flinch at all when he pulled the knife from its sheath in the pile of discarded clothes.

He had seen her without her mask at dinner, but the effect was much more striking when his Rhetor was completely naked. Her faint pink lips somehow made her eyes seem even more blue, and the lopsided smile she wore matched the sparkle in them. She crawled up onto the bed and sprawled out, stretching, clearly enjoying the attention he was giving her. Alfonso could do nothing but stare, arms hanging uselessly at his sides, the smell of lilac and sight of her intoxicating him as if it had been burnt opium poppy.

She was actively displaying her body for him, from her wiggling small toes up to her head which hung off the edge, her grin even even more impish when it was upside-down. Reproachfully, she reached out and grabbed his limp wrist, moving the forgotten knife to her throat, and Alfonso flushed.

You can enjoy this, but you have to stay focused- He started to admonish himself, but the Rhetor pulled him even closer, taking his member into her mouth, and every thought left his mind.

He had the perfect view of her body laid out in front of him, and when she enthusiastically pulled him even deeper into her mouth her breasts bounced appealingly. While she pulled his hips forward and then pushed him away, sucking on his cockhead and then letting it slide almost entirely out of her mouth. One moment her tongue swirled and flicked across the skin of his shaft teasingly, the next she pushed him so far out that she could kiss his tip. The complete effect made Alfonso’s knees weak, and he rested his weight against the bed, leaning forward until his face was inches away from her stomach.

Beneath the smell of lilacs he caught a hint of the scent of her skin, and when he kissed her he could taste the same scent on his tongue. She was pulling him deep into her throat now, taking his entire length until he felt her lips kiss against his body. His mouth moved lower and lower down her stomach, until he was nuzzling and licking at the golden patch of hair, tangled but light, smelling more of her excitement than it did of flowers. Almost drunk off the scent of lilacs and sweat and her juices, Alfonso leaned even further and flicked his tongue across her sex, moaning at the taste.

She squirmed beneath him, pushing and pulling his hips to slide his cock out of her mouth and then deep into her throat, and the smell of her, the taste of her, and the feel of her tight throat was too much. His shaft twitched and jerked as he came onto her tongue, and he slid his own tongue into her slit even as he emptied into her. She didn’t stop squirming, her breasts sliding against him, and he could feel her swallowing his seed with his slowly softening member still in her throat.

Alfonso rolled over onto his back, panting and smiling. His Rhetor sat up on her elbows, strands of golden hair plastered to her face. A trickle of cum ran from the corner of her wicked grin and down her chin, but she made no move to wipe it away.

“That was amazing.” Alfonso mustered, and her grin grew even wider. They lay in silence for long minutes, head to toe. The air in the room was just a shade too warm, but he began to cool off as his panting slowed and he began to recover. “We’ve got to prepare for bed soon.” He finally broke the silence. It would be awkward, having to manacle her arm to the bed to prevent her from escaping, but just because she had a very skilled tongue didn’t mean he would fail his guard duties.

The recent memory of that skilled tongue made his member visibly twitch, the Rhetor raised an eyebrow silently. Alfonso thought of making some joke or excuse, but suddenly the Rhetor was leaning over him, her hair falling around his face as she looked down at him hungrily.

“You’ll be tired for your first day of work in the morning.” Alfonso said weakly as she threw a long leg over him, straddling his stomach. “Really, we should be preparing for bed…” She pouted prettily, grinding gently against him and making the hair above his shaft slick with her juices. The grinding pressed her backside against his sensitive member, and her pout became a smile as it stiffened even more noticeable. “I suppose you think I won’t stop you.” She shook her head, and her hair brushing against his face somehow felt just as good as her butt against his length. “Well I suppose you’re right.” He grinned.

She slid lower, her body cool except for the warmth between her legs that was pressed against his recently spent member. Whatever she was doing with her hips kept him from entering her, and long minutes passed with her simply sliding his cock back and forth between the lips of her sex. The only sounds in the room were her heavy breathing, the wet sounds of her rubbing against him.

The Rhetor took him inside her so suddenly that he cried out, leaning back and pushing herself onto his cock with a single motion. His cock was still covered in cum and her saliva, and it slid inside her without resistance. Alfonso thought she looked hungry before, but she began riding him with abandon now, fixing him with a lust-filled smile that was almost predatory. Rocking her hips to lift up and slam down in a steady rhythm, she closed her eyes and ran her fingernails down his chest, and the sting of it only heightened the sensations of her pounding. Her breasts bounced with each thrust until she grabbed one, pinching and rolling her own nipple between her delicate fingers.

The sight was too much, the sounds were too much, the look on her face was too much, and most of all the thrusting into her tight body was too much.

“Slow down,” he managed to gasp, “slow down or I’m going to come again.” The Rhetor leaned forward until her hands rested on either side of his face, her breasts hanging down in front of him. Then she licked the trickle of semen from her chin with relish, and began riding him even faster. Her breasts swayed in front of his face, her hips rolling to push him deeper into her than he even had before, and Alfonso came a second time, arching his back and digging his fingernails into her hips.

Even as he shot his seed into her womb he could feel her trembling as she came with him. She leaned back, spearing him into her deeply, and took a shivering breath as her body responded in sync with his, the muscles of her sex squeezing his cock while he slowly came down from his orgasm. Her whole body quivered as she slumped forward a little with her hands on his chest, and the Rhetor let out a tiny, quiet moan, her voice silvery and as sweet as her scent had been.

The post-orgasm ecstasy left Alfonso as if someone had thrown cold water into his face. It was a sound, and although his mind shied away from the idea, the Rhetorguard tenet mandated that she die for it.

He wouldn’t actually kill her, of course, not for something so involuntary and so small, and certainly not while he was still inside her. What he should do was to put her mask back on and stop taking risks. Hearing her voice was a frightening reminder that he was playing with fire. More than playing with fire, he realized with a start. His hands were on her naked hips, and he couldn’t remember when he had dropped his knife. Had it been when he came the first time? He craned his neck and saw the blade laying near the piles of clothing at the foot of the bed.

It was a strange feeling, as if his mind was slowly catching up to itself. It was only a split second, but he wasted it trying to logically reason out the steps that had taken him there. He was lying there without his knife, lying under a Rhetor without her mask. He could wrestle her off of him, of course, overpower her and get to the knife or perhaps hit her hard enough to knock her out, but how long would that take? A minute? A minute and a half?

The Rhetor was sitting on top of him, his cock still inside her, watching him as if she could see the gears turning in his head. There was a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the pleasurable feelings in his cock as it slipped out of her did nothing to alleviate the dread.

“If you speak, I’ll have to kill you.” Alfonso said, keeping his voice flat to ensure it didn’t waver. The smile on her face was still lustful and predatory…but now that he wasn’t so aroused he realized there was also something inhuman about it.

The Rhetor leaned over him again and opened her mouth…

 


 

 

Capitano Fonte was grumpy and nervous, for the second day in a row. He was nervous because he knew exactly what had happened to his missing Rhetorguard, he had known rom the moment his nephew had made googly eyes at his Rhetor how the scenario would play out. He was nervous because, even knowing what would happen, he had let the man graduate, had let him walk off with a Rhetorguard’s armor knowing he was too weak to wear it.

“The innkeeper said they took the room on the second floor, and he hasn’t seen them leave yet sir, we might not be too late.” One of the guards approached the Capitano at the foot of the stairs and reported. Fonte grunted and gestured, and a handful of guards made their way in front of him, climbing the stairs to the room in question. He followed slowly, lost in thought.

Was he any better? Yes, the boy had been weak, but Capitano Fonte had let him graduate to avoid familial drama. How was that any stronger, ignoring his gut to prevent drama? He brooded as his guards broke down the door to the room, and he only needed a glance at the room to confirm his suspicions. At the foot of one of the beds, a Rhetorguard’s armor lay arranged in a neat, clean pile. Resting on top of it was the Rhetor’s mask with a matching design. At a quick glance, one could mistake the silver design on its mouth for a smug, mocking smile.

 

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9 responses

  1. DeNarr

    Hmm, so I figured that we would be told what each Stormtouched’s abilities are when they became relevant, but apparently this is still not the case. Obviously your entire world knows what a Rhetor does, but we still don’t. This is preventing me from really being immersed in the story.

    Like

    2014-08-22 at 12:24 pm

    • Seems pretty obvious. All the names are based on Latin bases. Rhetor, teacher of rhetoric, the art of influencing people with their voices. The first thing to do if they make sounds is slice their throat, and they are unable to find other ways to communicate either? Ability to use communication to control people, is my thought. (and body language is most CERTAINLY communication. As our poor rhetorguard has learned.

      Like

      2014-09-17 at 2:10 pm

  2. Andrew Lister

    I enjoyed the story so far, especially the ‘bonus’ chapter.
    One thing though, you use tenant where you should be using tenet here, about three times, and it is rather distracting.

    Like

    2014-11-12 at 10:14 pm

    • Naw, see, that might LOOK like a misuse of the word, since “tenet” is a principle or belief and a “tenant” is someone who lives in a place rented by a landlord, but see what I was TRYING to say was um…

      …that their RULES are like people who rent from a landlord….no, I mean um…

      …that much like tenants, the beliefs of the Gaurds pay rent…to…uh…

      see in Italoza it’s different, the meanings of the words “tenet” and “tenant” are switched there because of…reasons…

      Okay, okay, good catch :) That should be fixed throughout now, thanks!

      Like

      2014-11-12 at 10:39 pm

  3. Andrew Lister

    I like the way you think—like the seemingly gratuitous x at the end of your online name, unless you were given the name Xaviera as well, that just coincidentally makes the author of twisted cogs / smut look like Maddiro Sex. A cunning stunt ;-D

    Like

    2014-11-12 at 11:07 pm

    • Yeah my full name is actually Maddison Rose Xalia…funny story, I didn’t ever intend to write smut at all, but once I realized my pen name had ‘sex’ in it I was like “*siiiiigh* whelp, I guess I have to write porn now. Damnit.”

      Liked by 2 people

      2014-11-12 at 11:17 pm

  4. “Do I pass muster?”

    Might it be ‘master’? I am not very familiar with Latin.

    Like

    2016-03-25 at 9:30 am

    • heh, “Do I pass, Master?” would’ve worked too :) but “to pass muster” is a phrase meaning “To adequately pass a formal or informal inspection”

      Like

      2016-03-25 at 9:36 am

      • Ahhh I see. Sorry about that. My inexperience shows yet again.xd

        Like

        2016-03-25 at 10:22 am

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