A tale of artists, intrigue, and the magical renaissance

Twisted Smut 16 – Tenet Noctis {Darkest Night}

The fountain bubbled quietly in the corner of the otherwise empty room, but Umbra ignored it and kept on pacing. It was a small feature in the corner, and was supposed to unobtrusively set the mood, but Umbra just found it vaguely annoying.

Besides, it’s not unobtrusive when it’s the only feature in the room. With nothing else to draw her attention, Umbra let her gaze wander over the undecorated white walls in the empty room. Her obsidian feet clicked on the hard floor, but there was nothing to do while waiting except pace. Who wants a pretty girl in an empty room? A freak, that’s who.

As if on cue, the door clicked, and Umbra stopped her pacing in the center of the room, clasping her hands behind her back and taking a deep breath. As annoying as some of this was, she was looking forward to it, and the smile on her lips was genuine.

Her creator entered first, Miglia, a man too young to be in either of his chosen professions, but Umbra wasn’t interested in the one that she knew. The other man, the one who entered the room behind him, he was the one who piqued her curiosity. Catullo was a young man as well, roughly her age (if one ignored the fact that she had been carved only a few weeks before), but he wore his black beard and long hair in a style that hid his youth.

“Beautiful,” Catullo murmured, “Miglia, you’ve surpassed even the rumors of your work. She’s truly a work of art.”

Umbra spared Miglia a smile and saw that he was beaming. Obsidian was expensive enough that the man had only worked with smaller pieces, she was his first full-sized work. Her pitch black hair fell in shining rivulets over her shoulders, almost down to the curve of her full breasts. The black tunic she wore was designed to hug those curves and those of her hips, and also to highlight the difference in depth between the dark cloth and the utter jet black of her stone skin.

“I’m glad I please you, Catullo,” Umbra said, “but then, Master Miglia did work to your exact specifications-“

“Ah ah,” Catullo raised a finger and waggled it reproachfully, a twinkle in his eye, “this one has a loose tongue. I’ll have to teach you, dear dark stone, to only open those pretty lips when I so order. Of course, you won’t always be opening them to talk.”

Umbra raised an obsidian eyebrow. Miglia had explained the situation to her in some depth, how Catullo, a count, had the funds to commission her creation but not enough to purchase her. How she could expect him to rent her time whenever he had the funds, but that she would remain Miglia’s property.

Umbra suspected she’d have a hard time meeting Catullo’s expected level of subservience even if she did belong to him.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for that sort of instruction, Catullo,” she said, meeting his gaze with eyes of pitch-black stone. Catullo looked into those eyes for a long time, then looked her up and down a second time. Where his first look had lingered on the cleft of her cleavage and the slightly-too-high hemline of her tunic, this time he seemed to take in her stance. A frown deepened on his face as he looked at the steady stance she held, the raised eyebrow, and the confident tilt to her head.

“No, I don’t think you are,” he said thoughtfully, then turned back to Miglia. “I would like a refund of my money, Master Miglia.”

Umbra cursed internally. She couldn’t repay Miglia for giving her life by losing him his business. More selfishly, she was a Calaetor’s sculpture, her Master’s fortunes were tied to her own.

“But…but sir,” Miglia stammered, “when you first commissioned me, I did tell you that I could only guarantee what the girl looked like, not her personality.”

“I was quite clear about what I wanted,” Catullo said, coldly, “and what I wanted-“

Umbra took a breath and cut in, “you wanted a girl who can satisfy you, didn’t you? I can do that.”

“I don’t think so,” Catullo’s look managed to be both scathing and dismissive at the same time, “I have a very particular set of tastes, and you are not the girl to fulfill those tastes, pretty though you may be.”

Umbra bristled at the look even more than the words.

Condescending prick. “I’ll bet you you’re wrong,” she snapped, “I’ll betcha I can fulfill you in an hour’s time, or you can have your commission money back.”

“Wait, hold on a second,” Miglia said, but Catullo was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“I get the commission money back, and then at a later date you attempt to please me my way,” he said. “It may be that, if you’re a good actress, we need not rob Miglia of any of his money besides the initial commission.”

“I don’t know about his ‘returned commission’ part of the-“

“You can’t be difficult just to win the bet,” Umbra specified, “you have to play along with what I ask you.”

“Done,” Catullo agreed. “That will be all, Miglia. Return in an hour.”

“I don’t thing-” Miglia tried again valiantly.

Go, Miglia, let me do what you carved me for,” Umbra added, and her creator finally left after shuffling his feet a few times.

Too nervous, too unconfident, I’ll have to work with the poor thing. Umbra watched the man close and locked the door behind him, then turned to survey her challenge. And it would be a challenge, getting invested enough to make him actually cum, especially if he was telling the truth and couldn’t get off except with a submissive girl.

In the bare few minutes she had known him, Catullo had insulted her, sneered at her, condescended and dismissed her. He was handsome enough, his ragged black hair and beard were rugged his eyes piercing, but the hostile way he looked at Umbra made her feel an intense dislike for the man, and that dislike made her…

Horny?

Sure enough, her heart was racing and the warmth just below her stomach stirred very interesting urges in with the dislike. When she shifted her stance, Umbra felt a telltale wetness between her legs that spoke to just how much her body enjoyed the burgeoning hatred of the man.

No point in fighting with something so fortuitous, she thought.

“Alright….You should, um, get down on your knees, first,” she said, clearing her throat.

Catullo raised an eyebrow, but slowly knelt on the empty stone floor, a few feet in front of her.

“Good boy,” Umbra patted him on the head with a grin.

Quomodo audes,” Catullo cursed, slapping her arm aside and moving to rise to his feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t resist,” Umbra put her hands on his shoulders, “I won’t bate you any more, I promise. Here, do you feel this?”

She began running her fingers lightly through his hair, brushing black stone fingertips along his scalp. Her dark fingers through his dark hair looked good, and it felt good beneath her fingers. Umbra continued on for several minutes, simply stroking and enjoying the sensations.

“It’s not bad, no,” Catullo said, begrudgingly, “it’s not satisfying, but it’s not bad.”

“Oh, this isn’t even for you,” Umbra said, biting her lip, “this is just because you’re kinda cute. Cute enough that I can look past your charming personality and enjoy this. You’re in a perfect position right there to smell how much I’m enjoying it.”

“Smell?” Catullo looked up at her bemused, “you’re stone, you have no scent.”

“Oh don’t be like that,” Umbra reached down to lift the edge of her tunic up ever so slightly, just enough that her bared leg was inches from his face, but not enough to show him that she was wearing nothing beneath the tunic. “If you won’t smell, then perhaps taste.”

She pushed his head forward until it pressed against her bared leg, and Catullo extended his tongue and licked her exposed thigh. The feeling of his tongue on her smooth skin sent goosebumps along Umbra’s arms, and she shivered in spite of herself.

“Soft,” Catullo said, surprised.

“Of course I’m soft,” Umbra teased, “what, you commissioned me for fucking but didn’t think you’d be able to fuck me?”

“That impudent mouth,” Catullo frowned, but leaned forward to lap at her thigh again, lifting her tunic a little higher to allow his tongue to trace a path across her skin. “I do smell you, now.”

Umbra wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but before she had the chance, Catullo lifted her tunic higher still and exposed her sex. She fumbled for words, and Catullo leaned forward and flicked his tongue directly across the little stone nub of her clit.

Her legs wobbled, and for a moment Umbra saw stars. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Catullo was clearly experienced at taking charge, and if she let him, he would have her writhing on the floor in no time, under his control and unable to win her little bet.

“That’s enough foreplay,” she said, blushing at how huskily her voice came out. With one foot she delicately pushed the man back until he was laying down, lifting her tunic off completely as she did so.

“Are you trying to be the dominant one, now?” Catullo asked, staring unabashedly at her round, stone breasts with hard, dark nipples.

“I’m just trying to arrange us right,” Umbra stood over the man with one foot planted on either side, then bent down to start fumbling with his breeches.

“It would be easier to arrange with a bed.”

“You were the one who wanted a room empty except for a fountain,” she replied, finally yanking the pants down. Catullo’s rod sprang out of his breeches, erect and proud, and Umbra blinked. She hadn’t expected it to be quite so long or large, big enough that she would’ve had trouble fitting it in her mouth as she’d originally planned. Hesitating now would only make her look weak, so she lowered herself down toward it instead. If it wasn’t going in her mouth, there were only a few other options.

Will it all fit? she wondered, positioning herself so that the large dickhead prodded gently between her legs, I’m made of stone, what happens to a man’s member if it doesn’t fit? His rod smeared her juices in a slippery trail behind it, and when it brushed back and forth across her clit Umbra gasped again, her train of thought derailed.

“I wanted it empty because I had imagined I’d need the space to be a little rough, to break you in,” Catullo sneered, bringing her back to the present, “perhaps next time.”

Umbra curled her lip in disgust…but her slit was so wet that the man’s cock almost slid in without her assistance. There was no denying it to herself now, dislike was apparently her perfect aphrodisiac.

With a single quick motion she slammed her stone hips down, taking the entirety of his cock inside her body. He cried out, and she gave a strangled moan of her own, as he filled and stretched her cunt so completely that for a moment there was only pleasure.

Maybe he got the perfect carving after all… Umbra thought, as she slowly tilted her hips in a circle, enjoying the feeling of his dick stirring around inside her, and began to ride.

* to be continued July 21st, 2016 *

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