Work in Progress Wednesday
Apr. 28th, 2010 08:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdFrom that steampunk thing I mentioned the other day.
NOT work safe, hence a cut
“Flaccid penis length, three and three-quarters inches and three and seven-eighths inches.”
Hester walked into the room in time to see her owner scribbling data on the newest test subjects. The man on the left smirked at his identical twin.
“Told ya I was bigger.”
“Shut your gob.” The one on the right balled up his fist and aimed it at his brother's arm.
Mister Bernard cleared his throat. The men subsided. “Irish gallowsmeat,” he grumbled. He took a drink of the tea that Hester sat down for him. “Abuse yourselves. I need an erect measurement.”
“In front of the lady?” the right one asked.
“Hester's no lady, just a slave. Go on, we're wasting time, you ignorant paddies. I want to finish preliminary measurements before dinner. Your delousing took far too long.”
Both men set their jaws at that and glared at him. Hester busied herself as they grasped their cocks and stroked them. She stole a few glances as they did. They weren't bad looking and nicely built. She hoped they would work for the thought transference experiments. Mister Bernard had been keen to try it with identical twins ever since he'd gotten promising results from several sets of fraternal ones.
She left to get dinner on the table as he muttered, “Erect penis length, seven and one-quarter inches. Both subjects.”
Later that night, Hester showed them to their room, the other attic garret. Mister Bernard had given them clothes, rough pants and shirts, but no shoes.
“So, didn't know they kept pretty girls like you as slaves, too. Thought it was just the dark ones. I'm Malachy Brady. This gobsmacked idiot who can't stop staring at your eyes is Dominick.”
“Hester. My grandmother was one of the dark ones as you called them. Any Negro blood makes a person a slave, or so they say.”
“Who says? We'll go knock their heads in, we will,” Dominick said.
“The law says. Just as it said you were to hang for that murder, before Mister Bernard bought you for his experiments.”
“Experiments, she says,” Malachy wrapped an arm around her waist. “I could be experimenting, sure. Been a long time since we saw a pretty lady.”
NOT work safe, hence a cut
“Flaccid penis length, three and three-quarters inches and three and seven-eighths inches.”
Hester walked into the room in time to see her owner scribbling data on the newest test subjects. The man on the left smirked at his identical twin.
“Told ya I was bigger.”
“Shut your gob.” The one on the right balled up his fist and aimed it at his brother's arm.
Mister Bernard cleared his throat. The men subsided. “Irish gallowsmeat,” he grumbled. He took a drink of the tea that Hester sat down for him. “Abuse yourselves. I need an erect measurement.”
“In front of the lady?” the right one asked.
“Hester's no lady, just a slave. Go on, we're wasting time, you ignorant paddies. I want to finish preliminary measurements before dinner. Your delousing took far too long.”
Both men set their jaws at that and glared at him. Hester busied herself as they grasped their cocks and stroked them. She stole a few glances as they did. They weren't bad looking and nicely built. She hoped they would work for the thought transference experiments. Mister Bernard had been keen to try it with identical twins ever since he'd gotten promising results from several sets of fraternal ones.
She left to get dinner on the table as he muttered, “Erect penis length, seven and one-quarter inches. Both subjects.”
Later that night, Hester showed them to their room, the other attic garret. Mister Bernard had given them clothes, rough pants and shirts, but no shoes.
“So, didn't know they kept pretty girls like you as slaves, too. Thought it was just the dark ones. I'm Malachy Brady. This gobsmacked idiot who can't stop staring at your eyes is Dominick.”
“Hester. My grandmother was one of the dark ones as you called them. Any Negro blood makes a person a slave, or so they say.”
“Who says? We'll go knock their heads in, we will,” Dominick said.
“The law says. Just as it said you were to hang for that murder, before Mister Bernard bought you for his experiments.”
“Experiments, she says,” Malachy wrapped an arm around her waist. “I could be experimenting, sure. Been a long time since we saw a pretty lady.”
