Convict Fenix

by Alan Brickett

  He also had to remember that not a single one of the prisoners was a weakling.

  Or at least might only be weaker than average, somewhere deep inside each of them was the potential to be what they were. Their crimes would have to have been great to be sent here, or their enemies powerful.

  Whatever the reason and whatever their mindset, psychopaths, chaos worshippers, anything evil or even good that was a problem big enough to be sent here had the potential to be very dangerous.

  He had been foolish to approach this ambush with such pride, something inside his mind stirred at the feeling, the embarrassment. Fenix would have learned this lesson at a young age, the folly of arrogance.

  Arrogance and pride got in the way of survival, it was not about who was better, it was about who could walk away.

  **

  Lesson learned and his head back in the game after the intoxication of rediscovering more of his power Fenix met Quelina at their agreed meeting point near the southern edge of the volcanic land mass two days later.

  The Seductress had stayed, for the time he was busy, within her home.

  The beetle had dug into the ground and plopped into the hole, leaving the house sticking up from the surface. She quite literally took all of her comforts with her. Once he had returned safely, she called the beetle out and then took him along when she went to check on the eggs. Once she confirmed they were safe and saw the crumbling chitin statue of the creature, she was convinced.

  She sent a telepathic message to her allies among the Outsiders, telling Fenix that they would see to the eggs’ protection and hatching.

  Per their agreement, she would take him to the nearest teleport stone and get him on his way to the forest. The bugs couldn’t fly there. The gap between the volcanic land mass and the forest plateau was too large for a single jump. The closest point was to another land mass they could journey to, but the teleport stones were much quicker than a journey around.

  That night, they stopped on a smaller floating island among the clouds. The beetle settled in, and Quelina told him that she wanted to have a discussion.

  Since they could have spoken while traveling and neither of them needed to sleep, he was pretty sure he knew what she wanted to discuss, and he was amenable.

  **

  The swirling nighttime sky of the Prison shed some light through the window to the bedroom where Fenix lay on silk sheets atop a well-constructed wooden bed.

  It hadn’t squeaked or groaned at all despite their many physical pursuits that night. The Seductress sat with her back to the headboard, legs crossed and eyes narrowed while she considered him.

  “That was amazing,” she said softly.

  He grunted in reply.

  Her words still stoked his ardor, but their spells were now weaker after he had actually engaged with Quelina in the romp. And for the other reasons that she probably now suspected.

  She smiled, softly and without malice, but also without a hint of the desire she usually employed. “I mean it, which is what is so surprising. That was actually amazing. And for me, who has enjoyed or endured some of the most wanton beings you can imagine, that says something.”

  She moved forward, onto her hands and knees.

  The effect of her, naked like that, was a sight to behold and treasure.

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  Fenix smirked. He couldn’t help it, not that she minded. It showed that he was ready to tell her. “I used my own magic while you used yours.”

  “You noticed?”

  “Of course. You dropped a few hints. Telepathic control of your beetles, messages to the minds of your allies. That and the obvious sexual waves that envelop you at all times. You have extraordinary psychic gifts, Quelina. Mine are a little different, although I have studied psychic abilities.”

  She plopped down on the bed closer to him, not bothering to cover up as she crossed her legs. “You have? And you remember this?”

  He nodded, eyes following the curves she wantonly displayed for his enjoyment.

  “I seem to have lived a long life, and quite a few things have come back to me. Some more fragmented than others, and nothing in the past hundred years or so, but quite a bit.”

  “Ah, so let me describe it to you, my most particular gift.” She smiled wickedly. “I am a full empath and a full telepath, able to read the feelings and emotions of any being. I can also communicate using only my mind, but most importantly, I can do so over a great distance.”

  She ran curved fingers down the side of her breast, stroked her ribs and down to her hip, where she rested the hand, fingers pointedly close between her thighs.

  “And with my empathy, I can receive impulses from others, including those during sex. I can feel their joy even if they give me none. I have always been able to do so; it enervates me. It is also the main reason why they have thought me to be a succubus.”

  He tilted her head up by putting two fingers under her chin. He liked her, she was also a survivor, and in her own way, she had struggled and won. “You are not so paltry a creature, there is far more to you. But the idea is to your advantage, is it not?”

  “You are correct. It has been useful at times to let others think of me as one of those baser instinctual fiends. So tell me, Fenix, what did you do to me?” she purred, her hand slipping lower between her legs.

  His eyes on the digits that were now gently rolling back and forth, Fenix responded slowly, “My magic works on intensity, all intensity. Among many other uses, the intensity can be used to raise the sensation being produced. I can do it by touch or within an area. I think I was better at it before losing my memories, but enough remains that I could enhance what you felt. I didn’t even do it very much. I wanted to see what happened to you first.”

  Quelina’s eyes glinted, showing her immediate interest in him. “Oh, my. Well, that fits what I can do quite well. Not something I use on customers, but I think something you would enjoy greatly.”

  He twisted his head, puzzled. “What is it?”

  That wicked smile came upon her lips again, and she brought up her hand, fingertips slick from her activity. She gently stroked the fingers, wet and sticky, across her stomach. The sensation of the tickle and stimulation of the stroke traveled from her and right into Fenix.

  It was as if he felt her nails scraping along behind those fingers against himself.

  It was an exhilarating feeling, but that was just the start.

  Quelina then rose up to cup her breast, and feelings of warmth and pleasure shot along Fenix’s own sensitive nerves, along with hers. The aureole around her nipple was wide and tender, and their earlier activity had inflamed it, making it extra sensitive.

  When she lightly stroked the flesh, it sent rills of pleasure coursing through her, and via the mental bond, to him as well.

  “Now do you understand?”

  He nodded in reply, speechless from the sensations she had shared, what she felt and sent over to him. “Would you like to see how much it works with your…”

  She broke off when he kissed her, their lips meeting. It was as if the shared bond exploded the sensation into his body. The ecstasy of the thousands upon thousands of nerves in the lips being stimulated, together. Their tongues shared space, arousing their desire in a sensual dance that filled both beings.

  Then he brought up his hand, a mild focus brought a shimmer of the blue fire to his palm which he stroked down the side of her face.

  Their lives disappeared in a symphony of pleasure enhanced a hundredfold, every nerve a song right to the core of their being. With her empathy and telepathy enfolding them in each other’s shared sensations, and his blue fire increasing their pleasure to heights beyond mortal limits, they fell into the physical act and lost themselves for a long while.

  As far as they could remember, neither had ever felt anything like this before.

  It was ecstatic, animalistic, and an entirely physical way to express desire, but they had no need for it to be more. Th
e two inmates explored the pleasures they could feel all through the night and well into the next morning.

  If anyone had been close enough to hear, their voices would have added stark clarity to the excesses they enjoyed.

  **

  Later the next day, Fenix was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on the boots he had put together.

  Harder leather with a durable design to survive the rigors of walking around the Prison. Another reminder of what he was doing now.

  “What is that on your neck? Such an intricate pattern, like one design from behind your head to the top of your shoulders. It has a certain beauty to it. Do you know?”

  She was up behind him, tracing the finest of lines that were his scars, though most were on his chest. She’d had a good view of that, as well. Of all of him, in fact, with their antics.

  “It is called the Mirrored Kaleidoscope.” he replied.

  She touched the back of his neck.

  It felt colder than the surrounding skin. “What does it do?”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea. I’m surprised I even knew its name. It just came to me when you asked.”

  “Perhaps it is also something from Aurelian, although I hope that armlet you had was just a ruse of some kind.”

  He looked back over his shoulder at her lovely face, the long hair tangled from their exertions, the skin a little puffy from all the activity. All the more attractive for having been taken all night long. He was tempted to try for more.

  “The armlet did not survive the fight with the creature. And, yes, as far as I remember, it was just to keep me safe when I arrived.” He lied smoothly, his magic pushed up the honesty of the half-truth and dampened down the rest, manipulation of emotions.

  It seemed to work, she showed no signs of detecting his duplicity, or she didn’t care.

  “Hmmmm, yes. A good ploy, to convince everyone that you were associated with the witch hag.”

  Quelina shivered, a very natural reaction, honest in the way only a body could be.

  As they had been to each other.

  “Truly, I know little of her. Perhaps I only ever knew a little. But what I do know tells me she is highly respected and very dangerous. I have vague feelings about the horrible things that befall her enemies. I know that if I were one of them, this Prison would not be my home. Something far worse would have happened.”

  “You may be right, but I have no memory of Her at all,” he lied again.

  A memory of pain…

  He was strapped to a frame of wood, stained darker than its original color by blood.

  Currently, it was his blood, from the chafe of his bonds and the seepage of internal bleeding past the piece of leather he gritted between his teeth.

  He was tightly strapped down against the frame at his shoulders, elbows, and waist—in fact, every joint was tied onto the wood with long pieces reinforced by steel. Every surface was also covered in runes, to hold and contain, to prevent the expulsion of any magic, and to weaken him so he could not escape.

  All of it had been specially designed so that he was kept still while She worked.

  The smell of blood underscored the other scent, the smell of burned flesh wafting from the back of his neck where She was inscribing. The entire frame mechanism could pivot on its base, to hold someone face down, or tilt backward so that their chest would be facing up.

  Right now it had him pointed face down, he could see the stone top of the column on which the frame was built. The black stone was also designed with geometric shapes, and had droplets of blood on it, as well.

  Inlaid into the shapes were precious metals found only sparingly on some worlds, and in those places, the wealth he was looking at could set someone up as a king. But the metals were also precious for their properties of containment and enhancement.

  The designs ran around all sides of the column he was pivoted upon, then up across the spherical room in which the column was anchored at the center. The channels to allow the runoff of blood did not impede the potency of the wards.

  Bright white light shone on him from above. When he wasn’t wracked with pain, the light felt warm and comforting. He knew, however, that She could change its quality and texture as She desired. This room was, after all, of Her design, a most carefully constructed lab.

  It took Her genius to create the sigils used in Her experiments, running all around in a three-dimensional matrix of spell glyphs that boggled his mind.

  Not that any of that was his current concern, he was already bracing himself mentally and physically when She stepped into the room. Her scent, that intoxicating and flowery perfume he could never identify, preceded Her. He could hear Her bare feet lightly moving over the floating steps that paraded in sideways to allow Her to walk over the gap between the raised column and outer walls.

  He yearned to twist his head even a tiny bit, to see those shapely pale legs again, but his bindings would not allow it.

  She knew him well, Her fey tread whispered over until he saw Her feet, splotched with the blood that fell and pooled below him. Her pink toes twiddled a little in the warm fluid, like a slight wave up at him. She spoke then, the sultry voice sonorous and hypnotic.

  “Ah, my love, how are you doing today?”

  The thrill that went through him at Her words didn’t come from any core impulse his mind would ever understand. She ever had that effect, the capability to entrance him so. It was likely also the delirium and the pain, speaking volumes about his wretched state that he so needed Her to come to him each day.

  Yet, the dread of what came next filled his thoughts. Just not quite enough to dispel the idea of being back between the delectable legs he could now see from the corner of his eye, all the way up to Her thighs.

  “Yes, Mistress. I am prepared.”

  Their passionate pursuit of desire had been wanton.

  She had prepared Fenix well for the process he was now undergoing. He had pursued the rigorous training in withstanding pain, accepting hardship, and been rewarded with hours entangled together with Her.

  The skin still soft after millennia of life, and the beautiful and ripe body She upheld. Her accepting embrace in contrast to the hard steel core of Her, that strength she used to dominate and control his amorous efforts.

  He knew that his mind wandered; it was good that it did so. If he were fully aware, fully conscious, he might go insane from the pain and the waiting. The lovely forearms appeared, and with them, the refined hands holding the bowl of a milky liquid, brought up for him to sip.

  Every day the same, his nourishment and sustenance came from this mixture She had designed.

  “Drink, my dear one.” Her voice enticed him, and he did, each small sip carrying the slightly sweet liquid down his throat.

  His body felt the infused contents renew and revitalize him.

  Wounds healed instantly.

  As little as it was, the bowl’s contents always filled him, providing the energy he was going to sorely need in the next few moments.

  He sipped slowly so he could catch those glimpses of Her.

  She was very busy, and this took up only a small portion of Her day. To his shame, that was because even he, with all his preparation and training, could only take the application of Her designs for a few minutes before needing to rest until the next day. As durable as She had made him, to give him this gift required a slow and careful application of the process.

  “You are doing well, my lover. The design is almost a quarter done, and you still live. I am pleased.”

  With those words, his pride soared. That he had been strapped to the table for over a hundred and thirty days disappeared in the rush of joy. She had explained Her previous attempts to apply Her design to other men, and women. They had all died. Some had lasted longer than others, but still, there had been no success.

  That he had survived was good for him, but the promise of the power he would receive when this was successful also nurtured his willpower to continue.

&
nbsp; Not that they could stop now.

  If She did not complete the design now, his vital energy and life force would leech out within a year. The design had already tapped into every center of power he had, so his body was already intrinsically tied to it. If it were not completed, the intricate tattoo would destroy him.

  She had explained this all to him while She lay in his arms, her red hair spread over his skin.

  “There you are. That will be enough.” She removed the bowl, and only his iron-hard determination kept him from crying out that She should stay.

  The silhouette of Her moved off, and where he had been drinking in the merest sight of Her, he could now only see his blood on the stone once more. He felt energized, his powers tempered and eager to explode outward while being confined within the frame.

  He heard Her feet move away, the blocks of stone floated up to allow Her passage back out of the room where She would place the bowl. Nothing else could enter the room while this happened; he had no clothes, and while She worked, She was also as naked as on the nights they had pleasured each other.

  So long ago now, but the promise She had made to return him to Her embrace also provided him the willpower to survive this.

  Her footsteps returned, the slight scuff of graceful feet. She would carry with her the needle She used to inscribe the marks onto his flesh. The sensation of burning started up, against the back of his neck, along the top of his spine by the shoulders.

  The back of his head felt as if nails were being jammed in. Always it was so. The needle She carried evoked this response because the tiny residue of its own material which She left behind as part of the tattoo process reacted in sympathy.

  She would not tell him what the needle was made of, some material She had explicitly transmuted for this process. It required decades to make and many precious materials. That was all She had said. He knew it was powerful. Even with the limited progress they had made, he could feel the changes taking place to the core of his very being.