A tale of artists, intrigue, and the magical renaissance

Twisted Smut 6 – Utitur Enim Corpus Rhetorem {Uses For a Rhetor’s Body}

Despite what people thought, a Stormtouched was never blessed with just one power. Oh of course, just one power came from the Storm, but if a Stormtouched was truly creative, they could turn that one power into a dozen uses.

Lingua wasn’t completely sure how many other Stormtouched noticed how many powers their one power unlocked for them, but she was fairly sure that no other Stormtouched kept as extensive track as she did.

For instance, her power could tell her when people were looking at her. Not due to some tingle that told her explicitly, but right now her power was buzzing; a suggestion that she walk with one hip dropped so that her ample rear would sway mesmerizingly back and forth. The exaggerated hip motion would be useless if there was no one to see it, and thus there was someone watching her right now, presumably staring at her ass.

She shot a look behind her, and Alfonso must’ve been expecting her to look at him, because he met her gaze evenly. If it weren’t for her Storm the young man would’ve gotten away with it, but as it was Lingua lowered her lids and gave him a small inviting smile. Seeming to read her meaning, he hurried to catch up.

A single power giving her preternatural body language, and from that the power to tell when he had been looking, to convince him to attend her better, all without speaking.

And they say we Rhetor are dangerous because of our words.

“I’d like to get going again by tomorrow morning,” Alfonso said softly as he caught up to her.

“Already? We were just starting to have fun here!” Even now, after months of being together, Alfonso winced ever-so-slightly at the sound of her voice. Her Storm told her to act as if she didn’t notice, and so she didn’t let the hurt show.

“I get nervous staying in one place for too long, you know that.”

“We’ll have to stop running and settle down someplace sooner or later, you realize that don’t you?” Lingua asked, still pondering his little wince. It was strange to be in love with a man like that, a man who could love you and fear you all at the same time.

“Eventually, sure, but it’s too soon to be thinking about that,” Alfonso was saying, and Lingua pulled herself back to the present. “The Guardhouse isn’t going to suddenly stop looking for us after a few months.”

“The Guardhouse,” Lingua said the name like a curse, “can go fuck itself. We have new names, new looks, and no one would think to associate me with a Rhetor, not without a Stormtouched voice.”

“Either way, I’d be happier if we left by morning.”

The Storm nudged her, and Lingua put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Then tomorrow is when we’ll leave,” she said lightly. Her Storm still buzzed, and she walked closer to him so that she could grab his arm as they walked.

“You didn’t affect anyone in this town, did you?” He asked. “They can probably track us if we leave a trail of affected people behind us.”

“No, of course not!” Lingua lied. As if she would give up her power just to avoid leaving a trail. If the Guardhouse wanted them badly enough to interview everyone in the town then there would be no avoiding them anyways. She used her power to haggle with shopkeepers, to get the juiciest gossip at the markets, to flirt shamelessly with the boys and men that made up the city.

When she’d been wearing her mask she’d always thought it too risky to use her Storm, to risk execution if someone caught on to her particular brand of non-written, non-verbal communication. It wasn’t until that fateful night when she’d decided to go all out that she’d even considered it.

The fond memory of that night was interrupted by a nudging from her Storm, an impetus to hold his arm closer, to subtly press her breasts against his arm so he would feel her with every step. Internally, she frowned. Her Storm didn’t normally urge her so fiercely to keep Alfonso interested in her.

 

*

 

“It’s not flashy, but it’s better than our last ride,” Alfonso’s shoulders had been drooping all morning, and he indicated the carriage with an action closer to a shrug than a flourish.

“It’s wonderful Alfonso,” Lingua said, “I love it.” It was a little shabby, but it would get them to another city faster and in a less traceable fashion. Hopefully it would pull Alfonso out of the mood he had been displaying for the last few days.

“We’ll be going straight through to Venecchi, so if you need anything before we leave now is the time to take care of it,” he climbed into the carriage without a backward glance, “I’ll wait for you.”

With Alfonso’s back safely turned, Lingua bit her lip, concerned. The buzzing of her Storm had been almost constant for days, far more than anything she’d experienced before. Days full of little touches; a brushed hand across his, a light caress on the shoulder, a few more kisses here and there than was regular. Lingua had made sure to be subtle enough that Alfonso didn’t notice half of them, but the fact that her Storm thought them necessary was troubling on its own. The conclusion was inevitable, no matter how much she didn’t want to come to terms with it.

Alfonso was thinking of leaving her.

“It was kind of you to arrange this for us,” she flashed him a smile as she sat down across from him, arranging her skirts around her legs, “I’ve never had the experience of a private carriage ride.”

“It was no problem,” Alfonso said, and she could see the stiff formality on his face now, “after all, I’m on the run too, and the less people who ride with us, the less who will be able to tell the Guardhouse where we went. The driver up there is a friend.”

The carriage lurched into motion suddenly, and within a half hour they were out of the city limits, rolling along the bumpy road to Venecchi. The carriage was a bit rickety, each bump and roll making itself felt through the thin cushions on the hard wooden seats, but Lingua was far too preoccupied to notice the discomfort.

It was perhaps natural that the stress was beginning to get to Alfonso. She knew what it was like to be hunted, but it was a brand new experience for him, and he was being hunted by his own brothers-in-arms, old friends and mentors.

It was also perhaps natural for him to blame her for their current situation; after all, the only reason they were being hunted was because she was a Rhetor without her mask and he a Rhetorguard who had abandoned his post.

I still thought we were in love, she thought forlornly, staring through the window, I thought he would love me no matter what the situation…

She shook herself suddenly. She hadn’t shed her mask and her responsibilities, risked her life just to give up on the people important to her, and Alfonso was important to her. Their relationship might’ve started as a seduction to get her mask off, and at first she may have only used him for an easy lay, but in the subsequent weeks they had grown into something more. It wasn’t just her; she was sure he felt the same way about her as she felt about him.

He just clearly needed some help to realize it.

The buzz of her Storm lit a blush across her cheeks and along the tops of her breasts, and she casually reached up and untied the laces that held the top of her dress together. It hung from her shoulders, loose enough that a shrug would expose herself to him.

She barely needed her Storm’s help for this. They had had sex almost every single day since that first night in the inn when she had convinced him to take her mask off without speaking a word. Sometimes she had pounced on him, ripping his clothes off and nipping at his skin when he play-resisted. Other times she had had to use her Storm, acting disinterested but just happening to bend over a tad too far, or stretch in just the right way. Sometimes, like now, she just had to strip for him to have his undivided attention.

Alfonso’s gaze was locked onto the hem of her dress, and even under the circumstances Lingua smiled through the window of the carriage.

“I suppose this is where you use your Storm to convince me to take you here in the carriage,” Alfonso said. Lingua couldn’t tell if his statement was bitter or not, and it bothered her that she couldn’t tell. She pushed the question to the back of her mind.

“Must I use my Storm?” She shrugged, and the motion made the loose top slip down to her waist, exposing her freckled chest, “and here I was, planning on using my breasts.”

Alfonso lunged across the aisle for her, and Lingua giggled as he buried his face in her neck, kissing roughly. She wasn’t much in a giggling mood, but her Storm supplied her with the body language that he wanted, and he had apparently wanted lighthearted. She trailed a hand through Alfonso’s hair as his kisses trailed down her collarbone and over her breasts, her face sad now that he couldn’t see it.

He was already unfastening his pants, fumbling with her skirts. It didn’t bother her that he was already ready for her; in fact when his member sprang stiff from his pants her breath quickened, but it did bother her that he didn’t seem to care about what she needed. Grabbing her knees and lifting them up, he positioned himself. It was too fast, too rushed, and despite how her body was responding it made Lingua feel even worse.

“Kiss me?” She whispered, and he did, but her Storm was telling her it wasn’t what he really wanted. She arched her hips almost out of habit to let him push into her, but she did so with irritation.

It’s not enough to want my body, she thought, I know you love me like I love you, I’ve felt it over the past weeks. Want all of me, damn it, ALL of me!

The plan occurred to her immediately, although it wasn’t so much a ‘plan’ as it was Storm and instinct. Lingua was more annoyed than sad, but her Storm provided what she needed; tears trickled down her cheeks as she lay on her back on the bench. It was strange to feel buzzing behind her eyes rather than between her legs during sex, but the effects were almost instantaneous. Alfonso pulled out of her immediately, concern on his face. Despite her plan, Lingua had to force herself to keep the disappointment from her face as his member slid out of her.

We’ve been fucking too much, if I’m feeling this empty when he pulls out, she thought briefly.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” Alfonso asked.

“N-no, it’s okay,” Lingua said, “I mean, if you want to hurt me you can. Please, keep going.”

“What’s wrong, why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing, it’s alright,” Lingua reached out and slid her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest and clinging to him, “please, do whatever you want to me. We can change positions if you want to, or you can have me in another way, or….or….”

“Lingua!” Alfonso grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her away so he could look into her face, “what’s going on? Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

“Because you’re thinking of leaving me!” Lingua wailed. Alfonso frowned, standing over her in the swaying carriage. His shaft still hung from his pants, and she tried not to think of how easy it would be to lean forward and take the whole thing in her mouth-

No, there will be plenty of time for that later, focus.

“I’ll let you do anything you want! if I don’t satisfy you in bed I can change, I just don’t know what I would do if I were to lose you.” She had to choose the words for herself, but with her Storm telling her what body cues to give him, the words came easily to her.

“It’s not that Lingua…God it’s not like that at all!” Alfonso looked so adorably awkward that Lingua again had to keep herself from smiling through her Stormtouched tears, “it’s just that…I never know, when I’m around you. I never know if what I’m feeling is real, or if it’s your Storm.”

“You know I would never use my Storm on you!” Lingua said, using her Storm to find the perfect expression between appalled and hurt. “I love you, and until today I thought you loved me too!”

“I think I love you too, but that’s just the problem, I only think so! How can I ever be sure?”

“You’re telling me that you can’t be sure of how you feel about me, even in our starkest and most intimate moments? When you were inside me just then, you didn’t feel anything at all?” It was a low blow, but if anything would be effective…

“No, that’s not it at all! It felt…amazing. It always feels absolutely perfect. The tiniest motion I want, you do a second later. But that’s what I’m talking about. ”

“That sounds like chemistry to me.”

“To me it sounds like the Storm. And that’s what it comes down to; how do I know it’s not? How do I know some other person with the same Storm wouldn’t make me feel just the same way?”

The two were silent on the inside of the carriage as it rattled and rocked for a few moments as Lingua groped for words. For once, she wasn’t completely confident. There was no way to leverage her Storm, no way to cheat to get what she wanted as she had always done. How could luck fail her now, when she suddenly realized that all she wanted was Alfonso?

“Please, tell me what to do to fix this,” she said quietly. There was a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, an icy certainty that made her feel tense and anxious. “Tell me what to do to convince you.”

“I don’t know Lingua, like I said-”

“No, there has to be some way,” the certainty was approaching desperation, a feeling quite foreign to Lingua. “I can’t…I can’t just not have you in my life.”

“What do you suggest? I don’t like that I have doubts, and I hate myself for even having those feelings, but what is there that will fix that?”

“I…I don’t know!” Lingua lied. She did know, and the concept almost physically hurt. After another few moments of silence and internal wrestling, she broke. “I do know. It’s honesty. You want honesty, you want to trust me? Fine. I have used my Storm on you.”

“How often?” Alfonso’s face went hard, and the icy pit in Lingua’s stomach grew colder, but she forced herself on.

“All the time. Every day. Just now.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks and held his gaze.

“And the sex?”

“Alfonso I don’t even know how to have sex without using my Storm,” Lingua said helplessly, “it makes me blush, it makes me breathe exactly as hard as you want, it makes me exactly as wet as you want, it’s not something I can just turn off.”

“This…that’s a lot to take in.”

“But you’re taking it in? You’re not angry with me?”

“I’m not exactly thrilled about it, but…” Alfonso looked at her thoughtfully, “…this feels like a step in the right direction. It makes sense that the perfect sex feels too perfect, if it’s between you, me, and your Storm. It pokes holes in your ‘perfect chemistry’ theory though.”

“Let’s keep going,” Lingua said suddenly.

“What?”

“You continue what you were doing, and I won’t react.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You said you can’t tell, right? The feelings you feel for me, even when we’re making love, you can’t tell if they’re me or my Storm? Make love to me now Alfonso. Just you and me, no Storm involved, and afterwards you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t know how I feel about you.”

“You want me to decide whether or not I love you…while having sex with you?”

“I want you to know that the electricity you feel when we’re together is real, Storm or no Storm.”

Alfonso raised an eyebrow, and despite herself the Storm brought a blush to her cheeks.

“You look so damned cute when you blush, you know that?” Alfonso said quietly.

“Storm,” Lingua admitted. The carriage was again silent except for the rattling as Alfonso thought her offer over.

“It sounds like that would be pretty unenjoyable for both of us,” he finally said.

“I’m pretty sure,” Lingua gently wrapped her fingers around his member and pulled him carefully towards her again, “it’s going to be the worst sex you’ve ever had.”

As soon as she felt his cockhead pressing against her lips, Lingua knew she was in trouble. Her body was already aching from the earlier teasing, and even without the buzzing in her lower stomach that was urging her to yank him inside her, she wanted him so badly that it hurt.

“It feels a little rapey, doing this with you giving me that blank look the whole time,” Alfonso said uncertainly. A thousand expressions she could’ve made occured to her through her Storm, and each of them would’ve delighted him, but she kept her face still.

“I’m being blank on purpose,” she said carefully, “just you and me, no Storm. But if you don’t slam your cock into my pussy right now, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” She could feel the effect her words had on him, both through the twitch of his head against her clit and through the Storm-urge to lean in and flick his lower lip with her tongue.

He pushed inside her, his shaft so delightfully warm and long that she had to force herself not to moan. Her Storm buzzed beneath her rear, telling her, urging her to lift herself up to meet his thrust.

“Isn’t that cheating?” He said quietly in her ear, “using that kind of dirty talk?”

“My Storm effects body language,” she said, careful to keep her words flat as he thrust again, “I can say whatever I want, that’s all me.”

It took him longer to find his pace without her movements to help him, and every now and then he would lose it with a frustrating and awkward motion. He wasn’t enjoying himself as much, and her entire body ached with desire to make him enjoy himself. It would be so easy, all she needed to do was grab his firm rear and pull him forward, moving his hips until he jackhammered her slit hard and fast, then forcing him to slow down into deep, mind-shattering thrusts.

She resisted, laying still as he sunk into her at a regular, even pace. Even this was enough, his somewhat off-kilter thrusting. His enthusiasm was growing the more he slammed forward, and soon he was pounding her so hard that he hit her sweet spot with every thrust.

It was torture. Lingua wanted to use her nails, wanted to grab him and touch him, kiss him and fondle him exactly where would please him most. She wanted to throw him off of her and go down, sucking her own juices from his length. She wanted to impress him with how creatively she could fulfill the desires he didn’t yet realize he had.

Instead she lay on her back, expression neutral, her heart pounding in her chest as his shaft pounded into her body. The carriage smelled of sex, and the wet noises of him slamming into her made it even harder to resist the tempation of the Storm. The frustration was so much that it almost brought her to tears again, and she clamped her teeth shut to lock away the screams and moans she knew he wanted to hear.

He was close to finishing; she could feel it in both the rapidness of his thrusts and the mind-numbing buzz of the Storm in her sex. Although she kept her face calm, she was growing worried; there was nothing she could do to prevent it if her Storm decided that her orgasming was what Alfonso needed to push him over the edge. Her face expressionless, her voice calm, Lingua looked into his eyes.

“I love you, Alfonso Fonte,” she said.

He thrust into her so hard that he lifted her from the bench, and whispered into her ear.

“Use your Storm.”

She came almost before he finished his sentence, wrapping her arms and legs around him. Her lips met his hungrily, and the feeling of his cock twitching inside of her as he shot his seed into her womb made her moan into his mouth. When she began to come down from her orgasm her Storm buzzed again, harsh and insistent in her clit. Pushing herself onto him hard enough to grind against his body, she came again, leaning back, arching, gasping, clawing at the thin cushions of the carriage.

He slid back and thrust home one final time with a wet sound. It was enough to make her cum for a third time, too weak to do anything but tremble and shake, her snatch quivering and milking his limp member. He collapsed on top of her, the crumple mess of their clothing soft in between their bodies. She wrapped an arm around him to keep him there, pressing down on her, his length still in her sex.

Their panting and the rattle of wheels outside were the only sounds for long minutes.

“I love you too, Lingua,” Alfonso gasped.

Lingua smiled. Weak and shaky as she was, her Storm buzzed, supplying her with the body language that would please her ex-Rhetorguard.

“Does this mean I can still use my Storm with you?” she asked hesitantly.

“Tell me when you’re doing it, but…yeah. Yeah I think so,” Alfonso replied.

“Good, because I’m about to do it,” Lingua said.

She reached down and clasped his hand in hers.

10 responses

  1. CaptainPedantic

    So when Lingua is using her storm on Alfonso is she being genuine? Does she actually love him? Is she just using him? Is their relationship some confused mixture of both? I don’t know how to feel about this… Well aside from aroused.

    Like

    2014-10-23 at 12:40 am

    • The interesting part to me, from a psychology standpoint, is that all her body language is the Storm telling her what to do. She has no experience with the mistakes and learning of body language the rest of us. So she has learned what most of the things will do, but often she’s just guided by the storm. Her reactions CANT be her owneven if its something she’d do anyways instinctually, her storm guides it.

      this also further cements my, rhetor have an INTERNAL echo controlling things, theory.

      Liked by 1 person

      2014-10-23 at 1:29 pm

    • Eduardo

      Agree

      Like

      2014-10-24 at 8:21 am

  2. Noshittywritting

    Nice

    Like

    2014-10-23 at 6:31 am

  3. zeuseus

    Maddi. Thank You.

    Thank you for all the Rhetor info, my inner munchkin is happy. Very Happy.

    Like

    2014-10-24 at 2:28 am

  4. Kunama

    So what this really means is that rhetors don’t have complete control over their abilities. This particular one seems particularly nebulous – but not knowing for sure how your magic system works, I’m not going to question it.

    I assume you have access to my email via this comment form, if you don’t want me to put typo corrections into comments, please let me know.

    “a suggestion that she walked with one hip dropped”
    walked -> walk

    “there would be no avoiding them anyways”
    anyways -> anyway

    “It’s wonderful William,” Lingua said”
    Who’s William? I thought the Rhetorguard’s name was Alfonso.

    “when she had convinced him to take her mask off without speaking a word”
    … well duh, she had the mask on, how was she supposed to speak?

    “the certainty was approaching desperation; a feeling quite foreign to Lingua”
    ; should be a , since the second part wouldn’t stand on its own

    “it makes me breath exactly as hard as you want”
    breath -> breathe

    “This…that’ss a lot to take in.”
    that’ss -> that’s

    “It’s that cheating?”
    It’s -> Isn’t

    “She wrapped an arm around him to keep her there”
    to keep her there -> to keep him there

    Like

    2014-10-26 at 7:59 am

    • WOW thanks so much! I absolutely appreciate anything you might catch, this really helped!

      Heh, “William” is Alfonso’s codename, which they used a lot in the original draft but I ended up not liking as much.

      Thanks again!

      Like

      2014-10-26 at 9:54 pm

  5. Andrew Lister

    I do enjoy it when you write smutty while we are having sex. Even if it has to be third and fourth party sex. Oh well.
    But I am slightly troubled by one turn of phrase you have used more than just here, along the lines of shooting his seed into her womb. You know that’s not what really happens, right? The womb is the uterus, and doesn’t really take part in coitus at all. It is pretty much a passive bystander. The ‘seed’ is shot into the depths of the vagina, where the cervix can go bobbing for it, like you might for apples at Hallowe’en (have you seen the ‘penis-cam’ videos of this? It is quite fascinating.), and thence introduce it to the uterus. Unless, of course, you know somebody with a prick the diameter of a drinking straw and a full cubit long, in which case he might just manage. But I don’t think it would be half as much fun, either to do, or to read about. :-)

    Like

    2014-11-15 at 12:51 pm

    • “I do enjoy it when you write smutty while we are having sex.” Uuuum… I feel like I would remember if I had sex while writing this, haha. I mean if we’re going to bang while I write we should probably meet first, and I’ll have to divorce my spouse, seems like a lot of trouble…

      Indeed, while not technically how it works, I quite like the commonly used idiom of “shooting seed into womb”, as it creates quite a visceral mental image which I enjoy a lot.

      Like

      2014-11-15 at 1:24 pm

      • Andrew Lister

        What else can I say but :D ?

        Like

        2014-11-15 at 2:08 pm

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