Twisted Smut 7 – Mollis Ut Lapis {Soft As Stone}

“I don’t know what to tell you Galeazzo, I really don’t.” Lalelle sighed, dipping her quill in the ink bottle to continue writing out the files for the new garzoni. “And what’s more, I don’t know why you think I can help you when you and Alfonso haven’t come up with a solution yet. Do I need to remind you how much younger I am than you?”

“That’s a copout and you know it,” Galeazzo frowned, “you know as well as I do that our ages have nothing to do with our level of knowledge, and we all know that you’re the cleverest of us all little sister.”

“Ew, don’t call me that,” Lalelle signed the file, then closed the folder with a snap, sliding it into the new slot marked ‘Hundred Eyes’, “if you think of me as a sister, it’ll make things much more disturbing later on.”

“You think so? I don’t know that Lady Malatesta will have us interact…in that way.”

Lalelle glanced over at her fellow sculpture. She could see his rippling muscles through his shirt, but perhaps that was why they never seemed to appeal to her as much as they did some of the other girls in the studio…she was meant for something else.

“Alright, if you really want my advice,” she sighed, “you should tell Lady Malatesta. Choose some moment when she’s in a good mood, not when things are intimate, and see how she feels about it.”

“Do you think she’ll be angry?”

“I don’t know Galeazzo, I could say. On the one hand, we are sculpts…we sort of belong to her, don’t we? We owe her our souls for creating us, our lives in the eyes of the law…we’re hers. But,” she added at Galeazzo’s downcast look, “she’s fair. You know that. If anyone would sacrifice her own desires for those of her sculpts, it would be Lady Malatesta.”

“You’re right…we should just tell her,” Galeazzo brightened. “You see? I told you you were the cleverest of us, little sister.”

“Just make sure to tell her soon…brother.” Lalelle tested out the word. “Nope, nope, still feels too strange, I don’t like it. And if Lady Malatesta ever has us do things together, I’m going to punch you for using it in the first place.”

“Well I can’t exactly call you ‘lover’ yet now can I? What am I supposed to call you?”

“You could always use my name, you great loon.”

“That is so boring. But thank you for your advice, Boring-Lalelle.”

“Any time. And who knows?” Lalelle added mischievously, “maybe you won’t even have to tell her, it could be that Rach has been here the whole time, listening to us.”

“You don’t…you don’t think he would do that, do you?” Galeazzo’s face clearly would’ve gone pale had he not already been made of stone, and he glanced behind him uselessly. She chuckled, but before she could respond the door opened and a young lady entered.

“I must get to business, but I’ll see you later,” Lalelle made a shooing motion, and Galeazzo left after a curious glance at the visitor. Lalelle straightened behind her high wooden desk, waiting until the young lady had made her way to her. The girl had dark hair and muddy-green eyes, an upturned nose and clothes that would’ve been high-class in one of the smaller cities. She had the straightened shoulders and upturned chin of someone trying very hard to appear confident, and Lalelle immediately felt sorry for the poor thing.

“Hello,” the young lady said, “I would like to meet with Master Malatesta please.”

If there was one thing Lady Malatesta stressed to all of her servants, sculpts and garzoni, it was that the strengths of the studio drew from a certain reputation. The extravagant foyer helped in that reputation, giving the studio an air of class and sophistication, but what the studio was truly known for was that they always, always had the information.

“Of course, miss,” Lalelle said with a smile, “Mistress Malatesta has been expecting you.”

“O…oh. She has?” The girl seemed flabberghasted, and Lalelle knew she had done well.

“Yes miss. Mistress Malatesta makes it a point to know everything that goes on in Milia.” The girl turned to the empty air beside her, waited for a moment, then turned back to Lalelle expectantly. Stormtouched, then. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I cannot see or hear Echoes, would you mind?”

“Oh…right, Pietro couldn’t see them either,” the girl seemed flustered, “my Echo asked if, since she knew I was coming, if Mistress Malatesta had already decided if I have a place at the studio.”

“Let me see here,” Lalelle frowned and shuffled through a stack of blank papers. Hundred-Eye and Foresight had filled the last two slots, so the answer was obvious, but there was no harm in letting the girl think there was more information floating around than there was in reality. “I’m afraid all of our positions have been filled,” she said regretfully.

“Oh. I…I guess I don’t have to meet with Mistress Malatesta after all, then.” The girl said.

“She thought that might be the case. I’m very sorry miss…” Lalelle paused for a moment. The girl knew Pietro, which placed her as a De Luca dropout, so Mella, then, or Cog. Mella had red hair, so this would be- “…Miss Cog.”

“That’s alright,” Cog said dejectedly, “I probably should’ve expected it. Thank you for your time.” Cog turned and made her way towards the door, and despite herself, Lalelle felt sorry for the poor girl. How frightening must it be, a garzoni with no master? Lalelle surreptitiously flipped through a folder of De Luca garzoni until she found the page on Cog. The page was almost blank; only her name and that she was a Fabera were known.

“Miss Lucciano,” Lalelle called. Cog paused and half-turned. “I’ve heard amazing things about you, miss,” Lalelle lied. “I’m sure that wherever you end up, you have a wonderful future in front of you.”

“Thank you,” Cog said. The poor girl looked as if she might cry. “Thank you very much.” She left with her shoulders just a little higher than when she had entered. The door shut, leaving Lalelle in the silence of the foyer.

Helping Galeazzo with his dilemma, helping Cog with her confidence…I’m on a roll today. With a smile she returned to her work.

 

*

 

“It’s always interesting, seeing how the new garzoni fit in with the existing students.” Lady Malatesta said thoughtfully, looking down at the empty courtyard below them.

“Have there been problems Mistress?” Lalelle asked.

“None so far, although we’ll have to keep an eye on Patchwork. He’s been flirting shamelessly with Hundred-Eye, and I don’t know her well enough yet to know how welcome his advances are.”

Lalelle hit a tangle, and carefully worked her slim stone fingers around the snarl in Lady Malatesta’s long brown locks. The feeling of her Mistress’ hair running through her fingers was sensual, somehow intoxicating.

“Isn’t that something the garzona can take care of herself, if it’s unwanted?” She asked, shaking her head and resuming her brushing.

“In theory, but if I can ease one of my student’s way, there is nothing wrong with doing so.” The two women remained silent for a few minutes, Lady Malatesta leaning back on the balcony’s cool stone, resting her head against Lalelle’s legs as the stone girl continued brushing. The contact, intimate and trusting, made her heart flutter. “Lalelle, have you noticed Galeazzo and Alfonso acting strange lately?”

Lalelle froze for just a moment, far too long to pretend as if she hadn’t reacted.

“I…I don’t think it’s my place to say anything Mistress,” Lalelle said. “Hasn’t Galeazzo spoken to you about it?”

“He did take me to one side, and after much awkward buildup and false starts finally told me that dinner would be a little late this evening,” Lady Malatesta’s smile was obvious even without seeing her face, “I suspected his original intention might have been a bit different.”

“I’m sorry Mistress, I…I could tell you if you ordered me to, but-”

“It’s alright, Lalelle. I wouldn’t ask you to betray Galeazzo’s confidence in you.” Lady Malatesta reached up and patted her on the hand. “Your skin is so cold!”

“Winter is fast approaching Mistress,” Lalelle said apologetically, “I absorb the cold a little more than a human might.”

“We can go inside if you wish.”

“I’m alright out here if you are Mistress.”

The night was quiet, and Lalelle enjoyed the almost silent sound of the brush running through her Mistress’ hair. It was so dark that she could only see Malatesta from the light that filtered through the curtains from the bedroom.

“They’re in love with each other, aren’t they.” Malatesta’s voice was flat, as if she didn’t actually need to hear an answer to the question. Lalelle froze again, mentally cursing her lack of subterfuge.

“They…I…who do you mean, Mistress?” she stammered, “Alfonso and Galeazzo love you.”

“They do, I know they do,” Lady Malatesta sighed, “but they’re in love with each other. I just wish they trusted me enough to tell me. How long have they only been pretending to find me attractive, making love to me so as not to hurt my feelings? What does that make me, forcing my sculptures to pleasure me when in reality they want nothing to do with that?”

“No, Mistress it’s not like that!” Lalelle broke down at her Mistress’ self abuse, “they only recently realized how they feel about each other, and they don’t feel forced at all, they enjoy their time with you I promise!”

“But how can you possibly know that?”

“They confide in me…and they’re planning on telling you soon, really, they’re just nervous about how you’ll take it.”

“But how else would I take it other than being glad that they’ve found happiness?”

Before Lalelle could answer, the door to the bedroom opened, and Alfonso and Galeazzo tumbled in. Their arms were wrapped around each other, their stone lips pressed against one another, and when Alfonso closed the door behind him he only spared a half-glance around the room. Although Lalelle and Lady Malatesta could clearly see in the well-lit room beyond the curtain, it was obvious that the marble men couldn’t see them.

Galeazzo leaned in and pulled Alfonso close, nuzzling against the older sculpt’s neck. Alfonso’s hand traced patterns along Galeazzo’s back, lifting the hem of his shirt a fraction as his fingers brushed along stone skin.

“We’ll have to tell her eventually,” Alfonso murmured.

“I will, I will, I just…” Galeazzo sighed, resting his head against Alfonso’s chest, “I’m scared. I don’t know how she’ll react or what she’ll say…I wanted to have one more night with you. If she forbids us from being together…we can’t disobey her, we can’t-” his voice broke, and Alfonso pressed a finger to the other man’s lips.

“Ssh, it’ll be alright,” he said. “We’ll tell her tomorrow. We’ll have one last night.”

Galeazzo stood on his toes to kiss him, hungrily, wrapping his arms around Alfonso’s neck. Alfonso kissed back tenderly, the fingers that traced patterns along Galeazzo’s back rising higher and higher, lifting the loose shirt away. The younger man gasped as they broke the kiss for a second for Alfonso to lift the shirt off and toss it to one side, and then lifted Galeazzo into the air with strong chiseled arms and deposited him onto the bed on his back.

“Do you think we should interrupt them?” Lalelle whispered, as Galeazzo fumbled with the drawstring of Alfonso’s pants, distracted by the man leaning over him predatorily, planting kisses along his bare chest and neck.

“And deprive them of the best sex of their lives?” Even as quiet as she was, Lalelle could tell Lady Malatesta was smiling. “The passion of two star-crossed lovers, desperate for each other, the universe against them? No I wouldn’t take that from them.”

Lalelle stood, placing the hairbrush on the chair and walking to the edge of the curtains for a better view. Alfonso’s pants had been kicked into a pile on the floor, his shirt joining them, and from where she watched she could see his entire naked body, the muscles and curves of his skin as he leaned over his lover. Galeazzo’s legs were wrapped around Alfonso’s waist, his hand between Alfonso’s legs, so Lalelle couldn’t see exactly how endowed the older man was, but she watched his firm ass appreciatively.

“They’re both quite handsome, aren’t they?” she whispered. “I mean, from an artistic point of view.”

“Thank you,” Lady Malatesta said from her spot at the foot of the chair. “Artistic? Do you not have a more…sensual appreciation?”

“I don’t mind looking at them. I don’t think I’d mind if you had me…‘interact’ with them, as Galeazzo puts it. It’s just not really my preference. Wait, you don’t know that?”

“I hadn’t ever thought about it, to be honest. I’m still so new at this, relatively speaking. I assumed, egotistically perhaps, that the preferences of my sculptures would be whatever I wanted them to be.” Lady Malatesta gestured towards the bedroom, a little sadly, “clearly I was mistaken there.”

Both men were naked now, Galeazzo slowly running his fingers up and down the length of Alfonso’s shaft, sliding it back and forth across his own hole. Alfonso remained almost motionless, his eyes locked on Galeazzo’s, their gaze broken only when one of them leaned closer to resume their deep kissing. Lalelle turned her attention back to her Mistress, who was watching the scene just as intently.

Her Mistress looked so sad, so forlorn. Her brown curls fell halfway across her eyes, and the way she was sitting, hugging her knees to her chest made Lalelle’s heart skip a beat. If there was anything she could do to remove that sad look, she would in a heartbeat.

Lalelle knelt on the balcony in front of Lady Malatesta, who turned her attention towards her.

“Mistress, your sculpts all love you,” Lalelle whispered, gently taking her Mistress’ ankle in her hands. She leaned down and kissed the soft flesh just above the ankle. “Alfonso and Galeazzo like making love you too, you don’t have to…to be worried or jealous or anything like that.”

“I know,” Lady Malatesta said quietly. “I know they do.”

“And…I…” Lalelle wasn’t quite sure how to put things into words anymore, not without sounding desperate or clingy. Instead she kept kissing, moving from her ankle up her leg, gently lifting her skirt to brush lips against her Mistress’ knee.

“Cold lips,” Lady Malatesta murmured.

“Stone lips,” Lalelle smiled. Her heart was beating faster now, as she kissed higher, inch by inch. Malatesta’s thigh was warm, even as goosebumps rose on the flesh. Even with her muted sense of smell, Lalelle could almost taste the scent of her Mistress’ sex, the excitement and heat just inches away from Lalelle’s nose.

“Stop.” Lady Malatesta’s hand rested gently on Lalelle’s shoulder, and the whole world seemed to stop for a moment, disappointment and embarrassment crushing down on her. She stopped and waited, not wanting to meet Malatesta’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her throat clenching.

“You don’t have to be sorry, I just…” Lady Malatesta’s voice was husky, or perhaps it was the fact that she was speaking in a whisper, “…I need you to know that you don’t have to do that. If you don’t want to. If you’d rather not, that’s…that’s okay too.”

The relief was almost palpable.

It’s not that she doesn’t want me, it’s that she doesn’t want to take advantage of me. The painful feeling in Lalelle’s chest eased a bit, her heartbeat calming.

“I rather would, Mistress Malatesta,” she whispered.

“Given the circumstances, I think it’s alright to call me ‘Rachel’. And I mean it, Lalelle. I really don’t want this unless you do.” Lalelle almost growled in frustration. She hadn’t been aware until now just how much she wanted this, needed this from her Mistress. Just below her belly a flame was building, and it was unfair that stone parts between her legs could be so hot, so insistent and so in need of being touched. She was made of marble, it was unfair that her whole body seemed given over to the fleshly desires that built in her.

In the dark of the balcony, Lalelle slid stone fingers into the tunic she wore without stopping. The folds of her sex were stone, but they gave way for her insistent fingers, helped by the wet slickness of her excitement. Rachel was still watching Alfonso and Galeazzo as she spoke, missing the display. “If this is just to make me feel better…if it’s for the wrong reason-”

Lalelle cut her off by popping her finger, wet with her own juices, into her Mistress’ mouth. Rachel’s eyes widened, and Lalelle grinned as she became the entire center of the woman’s attention.

“Does it taste like I’m doing this for the wrong reasons, Mistress?”

“I…I can’t say that it does,” Rachel stammered, and Lalelle was pleased to see the hint of a blush on her cheeks.

“But it could be that you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. I should probably taste to make sure.”

“That’s…that’s fair I suppose,” Rachel breathed.

Lalelle didn’t tease or take her time. The scent that had been teasing her for long minutes filled her nose as she slipped the skirt up again and pulled her Mistress’ underclothes to one side. Any doubts she might’ve had about whether she prefered boys or girls was erased at the sight of her Mistress’ trail of pretty brown curls, pointing to soft pink lips, wet and beautiful and inviting. Lalelle closed her eyes and kissed once, gently. Rachel breathed a whimper, so quiet it was almost silent, and Lalelle lost whatever restraint she might’ve had. Her tongue snaked out, flicking across Rachel’s clit and then back down, alternating between quick lapping and long lingering licks.

“Cold tongue,” Rachel whispered. Lalelle simply smiled and continued her onslaught. Her Mistress’ fingers ran through her hair, caressing her, then pushing her closer, occasionally gripping when the feelings were too much. The sweet taste and scent were almost as erotic as the sight of Rachel squirming above her, biting her lip to keep from making a sound. Lalelle slid her hand between her own legs again, unable to stop from touching herself at the sight, and after a few moments she slid a finger into her own sex, hitting her own sweet spots as she worked those of her lover.

Rachel moaned when she came, a long broken sound that would’ve signalled her pleasure even if Lalelle couldn’t feel her Mistress’ body shaking, couldn’t taste the juices. She continued licking mercilessly, enjoying each twitch and gasp as her smooth stone tongue ran over Rachel’s sensitive nub and wet lips. With a few final laps, she reluctantly stopped, gasping quietly as she slipped her finger from her own slippery sex. She hadn’t cum, but there would be many, many times in the future for that. Lalelle shivered in excitement at the thought.

“M…Mistress Malatesta…”

Lalelle looked up to find Alfonso, still naked, standing at the half-open curtain. The final orgasmic moan must’ve alerted the pair to their presence, and Lalelle almost blushed herself.

“Alfonso, you’re a fool,” Lady Malatesta smiled fondly from the floor where she had slumped. “Do you really think I would stand between you and Galeazzo?”

“I…That is, we…you knew?” Alfonso stammered. His face was transformed, beaming and grateful.

“Oh Alfonso, you’ve been here so long, and yet haven’t seemed to catch the theme of Studio Malatesta,” Lady Malatesta said, her eyes drooping sleepily, “I know everything.”