Her skin remembered, twitching in the aftermath of the last zap.
“Read.”
Blinking away sweat, she read the offered page, whispered the words. Thank god this one was short. Only five numbered rules, and she thought she had them, knew them. If she got it wrong, would he forget that threat he’d made? He wasn’t a man who forgot much.
She wet her lips.
This was torturing him too. His cock thrust at his pants so hard the outline would likely stay in the cloth when he removed them.
Removing his pants... She sighed. Her thighs, her pussy, imagining the glide of a cock entering. Hyper, so wound up for sex despite the agonies. Every treatment had made her come, her pussy swell and lubricate, her nipples ache.
The needle metal.
She didn’t feel it anymore. Didn’t feel the metal piercing her, only the sensations. If there was blood, she cared not.
The ones in her pussy and nipples...
She’d gone to the moon as the purple ruptured her, a tidal wave, a storm, a lightning ecstasy in those wires.
This could get addictive.
Maybe it had.
Her mind kicked into gear, recovered reasoning. If she said the required rules from the page, this was done. Her plan was to get him to fuck her, and a mechling was out there, recording. It wouldn’t go unnoticed.
“Say it.” Mako slid a black-gloved hand under her breast, while the other found her mouth, curled down her lip. His biceps shone in the lights. “What are you thinking?”
“Do me,” she said softly, genuinely moaning at his hands on her. She was his spider queen, his prey, and she liked it.
And don’t forget the hate.
“What did you say?” Words from above. The man loomed, hovered.
Was he suspicious?
This time she stared straight at his eyes, while his big hands roved lower, with everywhere alive to his touch. “Fuck me.”
“You know that’s forbidden. You know I’m not stupid. You want me gone? Not happening. One last needle goes in. Here.” His finger and thumb clamped onto her clit while the other hand delved into her mouth, four fingers trying to fit. Though she struggled to shake loose he kept them in there, pressing down her tongue.
“You’re not fair? I’m not fair. Say the last page.”
From memory, she began, spluttering around his hand. He shoved that hand deeper, and she coughed, while he wormed other fingers into her pussy, fucking her with that gloved hand in a mockery of what she’d asked for. She was barely done reciting when he abruptly walked away.
“None of those made sense. You failed.” He pulled the wheeled box closer, picked out a needle.
“You can’t –”
“One more word, and I stitch your lips together.”
Cruel, but she stayed silent.
His mouth twisted, and somehow she read it as self-deprecating. “I know what you were trying to do. I don’t work that way.” He held up the needle-holder with the needle in its jaws, spun it like it was a six-gun. “Recite the page.”
Was she reprieved? She gulped away nerves and rattled out the rules. Perfectly.
“Good. Now. Just this.”
He squatted and studied his target.
She hissed in air. He wouldn’t.
Oh he was, he was. Her toes squirmed as she thought this through. What he was staring at was her precious clit, and that would’ve been fine if he was going to lick it. Please lick it. His pepper-gray short hair begged for her to run her fingers into it and pull him in.
She was a traitor to her own self.
“Be still.” He reached forward.
If she moved, he might spear god knew what down there. She clenched teeth, braced herself for the sting. His fingers probed her, found what he wanted, pinched. The lance of pain was tiny compared to the previous ones. The sting of those was awakening too, tingling back to life, making her nipples throb. She shuddered as he stood, kissing her thighs then trailing fingers up her stomach. The weight of the wire tugged on her clit.
As he walked away, he unwound the spool of wire, creating an erratic tension, and that alone had her gulping. Mako tied the wire to the bars, then came back and put his hand to the controls.
“You think this is torture? You’ll like this.”
Incoming. Fuck. Oh you motherfucking –
A tsunami of purple blasted toward her through the wires; she could see it travelling. It lifted her up, scrambling thoughts. Bizarre, unnatural energy. Toes high, thighs tense, mouth opening to babble a litany of moans and whimpers as the cruelness played with her body, ripped through it. Her spine arched so dramatically the wires elsewhere became arrows. Her hands wrapped convulsively in the chains above and her eyes stopped seeing. The wire...that wire, the one to her clit, centered, expanded, exploded into a paroxysm of lust.
Pinned and spread-eagled with metal, spiked to endless time, she woke to herself rocking in the chains.
* * * * *
Mako had stood far off to the side, making it harder to change his mind. Wasn’t as if he was going to fuck her accidentally.
This way he could watch. He’d left the power on a timer.
His electric ornamental doll.
He’d never taken a slave this far before. At the last, he’d planned to shove one of the wired dildos inside her but relented. He was tired of pseudo fucking her, fingers, objects. They were all not him.
It wasn’t even that, he decided as he watched her wind down from the longest orgasm yet. Wasn’t that any more. He wanted more than mere fucking.
Such a pity.
This’d ended on a whimper, and he didn’t mean Slave Twelve’s, though she’d done plenty.
Ownership. Not going to happen.
Maybe he should just fuck her and walk away from his job, open a gate to the Outside, vanish into the motherfucking lands of the Scavs.
Motherfucker – another human word to treasure.
He stretched his arms, hearing the cracking, then strolled to her, to rescue her from the evil things he’d done.
Running his hands through her wet hair, over her shoulders, feeling the quivering, the harsh breaths, even smelling her as wrecked as she was, it was a sensual pleasure unique to itself. He could lick her dry and get enough Factor H to last a week. Probably make her come too.
Instead he began to carefully unthread all the needles from her flesh. Though he did give each pierced spot a single kiss. “Making it better,” he said quietly. “I swear.”
She said nothing, eyelids flickering open then shut, shuddering at every kiss. He wrapped his hand in her hair again and kissed the last nipple he’d freed. When she strained toward him, he almost stepped back, caught in a moment of disquiet.
If she liked it, why not? He pulled her head further back, kissed her areola again, tongued it, listened to her moans. She was a little out of it, not quite aware. None of this was in breach of contract, so he lowered himself to his knees, kissed her stomach then began to eat her pussy. His tongue caressed her poor abused clit, licking softly, and soon he felt the shudder of another climax.
For a moment he remained there, staring at how his hands wrapped about her thighs and the indentations in her flesh from his fingers.
Then he wiped his mouth, stood, and busied himself releasing her from the chains, as if it was business as usual.
Maybe she wouldn’t remember.
When she had been completely freed, he had to catch her under the shoulders, and she embraced him, mumbling. Since her legs weren’t working well, he lowered her to the floor. That floor was as cold as a frozen lake over which he’d once ridden, camped on.
“You bastard.” Muttering incomprehensible words, she curled up, naked, shivering.
She just needed time. So...he considered options. Drag her away to the entry and call a hopper?
Mako slipped to the floor beside her and pulled her to him, arranging the female so she was in his lap. When he tried hard, with his arms around her, he could get all of he
r into his lap, minus her lower legs. The only cold place now was his butt. A yielding, pleasant bundle, and she smelled of sex and sweat, but also of her. He let his nose rest in her hair, let his eyes close. If he imagined hard enough, they might be elsewhere when he opened them.
Of course, it didn’t work, and by then she’d squirmed a little and was looking up at him, her eyes mostly open.
“You,” she whispered, “I didn’t think it would be...”
“The floor is cold.”
The tiny frown line that appeared between her elegant eyebrows tempted him, so he kissed it, lightly. Her gasp made him draw away, made him see her lips, so he kissed her there too, with his hand cradling her head and his other arm wrapped about her, keeping her close.
Soft lips.
He hadn’t kissed a woman for a very long time. Kissing was seen as more personal, more caring than merely fucking a slave with objects or cock. Was putting his tongue in her mouth a violation of his work contract?
When she made a small sound and turned her face to meet his kisses, when she squirmed in his lap and sighed, he decided definitely not.
With great difficulty, he stopped himself a few seconds after he’d tasted her. He stood, untangling limbs from limbs, drew her to her feet. Had to.
Praise Arrak, but with her sitting naked on his lap and responding to his kiss so wantonly, his cock was probably leaking cum into his pants.
It wasn’t normal for a House Master to kiss a slave.
“I hope you learned well, because after that Basteer is going to want to see evidence this lesson was effective.” He kept his focus high.
Don’t look at the ripe globes of her tits, at the marks you left on her, at her lush mouth. Don’t look.
Why had he succumbed? Of all the feed the house received from mechlings, this was the only one he could guarantee Basteer would study today. The lawgivers too. Usually, most of it went to him only, and much of it even he ignored. There just wasn’t time to see everything.
From her silence, she was just as bewildered, and opened her mouth as if to speak.
He made himself grate out the necessary.
“Close your mouth Slave Twelve.” Slave Twelve, there, back to routine.
“Why.” She blinked. “Master?” But she closed it.
He didn’t answer, because he wasn’t prepared to tell her the sight of her tongue was making him crazy. He remembered how it had felt pushing against his when he kissed her. Her mouth was the one part of her that she’d given to him willingly.
He loved taking from her, but that gift had pushed him to the edge of the abyss.
He rummaged for the leash in his pocket, managed to clip it to her collar without biting her.
A House Master with a fixation on a slave was a man heading for ruin.
* * * * *
He was right. Early that evening Basteer called him to his study.
There was still sun outside. The man was looking through his view windows. At the lip of the horizon, the flare of light was distinctive. The ice sheet was gleaming. They’d turn that way, in a long wide curve, and set a course that would soon let them reach the ice fields. The earth beneath was rich for mining, though hunting was sparse. Though they wouldn’t be on the ice for long, they’d have to stock up from the towns they passed and send out extra hunting teams.
He’d halted a yard short of where Basteer stood. “You wished to see me, sire?”
“I did.” He turned, hands clasped at his back, steel-gray suit perfect, with fashionable, bronzed-etched metal clasps running down the front. His boots were black as a starless night.
Mako wore his normal House Master clothes – dark-brown shirt, black pants, recce-patrol boots and felt the divide between rich and standard class so...poignantly. Her word.
“The mechling feed from the Hall of the Lawgivers is damning, Mako. There’s no doubt you’re still too attached to her. What are you going to do?”
He snapped back to listening to Basteer. Though he’d expected this, for once he was lost. If only there was something to shoot. An easy fix. “Do?”
He was stalling, and they both knew it.
“I need a solution.”
“I can keep myself under control, sire. I guarantee it.”
Basteer angled his head. “If you cannot, I’ll have to lose you, and I don’t want to.”
“Understood, Sire.”
“Good. Dismissed.” He turned to gaze out the window again.
That was it then. He’d locked down emotions before. Could do it again.
As he reached the door, Basteer added a quiet comment. “She is not yours.”
His fist clenched on the handle. White knuckles. Then he opened the door quietly and let himself out.
Chapter 21
Days had passed. Then a month. He avoided her, again. The wind on the roof became so cold, she had to do as he...Mako, had suggested. She drew some warmer clothes from stores for her trips up here. Which made it easier to hide the things she bought and stole for JI-mech.
JI-mech had informed her he was ready, except for some power cells he could only obtain by looting them from mechlings.
Something always had to die. She patted Mammoth where he sat between her crossed legs. The ship was swaying and rumbling more than normal, and his little triangular ears vibrated oddly. She smiled and squashed them to his head with her hand. Not Mammoth. She’d never let JI-mech choose him.
Funny how she now thought of powering down a mechling as death.
It’s the turn, JI-mech said. We are slowly steering toward the ice fields. Once there it will be very cold up here. It makes the ship shake more.
Will that bother you? The cold?
No, but I don’t plan to be here then. Are you ready to leave?
She was. She was keyed up, and could’ve left tonight with no regrets. If this failed, it failed. She’d thought this through so many times – every day since JI-mech had told her of the plan.
I’m ready. I just need to lose Mako.
Simple words, complex thing.
Number one, he didn’t come near her anymore.
Number two...that kiss.
Basteer had called her to him the next day. Told her she was to be aware of who owned her, that transgressions would be punished, and she was not to flirt with the House Master.
Flirt! Though she’d not showed it, she’d been angry and indignant that she’d been blamed for anything. Then she’d thought about it.
Still angry at the unfairness but, in a way, in a most roundabout and devious way, he was correct. That kiss had been precisely what she wanted from Mako – it represented a passion for her that could make him step over the line. She might not have been able to do anything consciously that day, but the result had been perfect.
Except he’d lost interest after that. Or had he?
Basteer would’ve ordered him to ignore her.
Maybe he still wanted her.
The most complicated part of all the complicated bits – he’d made her want him that day. Just thinking about him, hearing his voice, smelling his soap or whatever damn thing it was that made him smell like he did – the hint of weapon oil, pinch of male sexy sweat, some leathery residue? Or maybe the damn chains he used draped him in smells? Whatever, she wanted to lean against a wall and shove her hand under her dress whenever she saw him, smelled, heard him.
Lust, only lust.
She was sad thinking about hurting him though. She should be sad to do what she intended to do to him, shouldn’t she?
Even if he’d hurt her, sadistically, with grievous intent to make her orgasm more times than a woman should.
Yeah. Oh my. Fuck, that day...
She really should shut up with these thoughts.
Emery leaned back on her hands and let the cold wind whip her face and make the hot thoughts go away.
Luckily Mammoth had wandered back to the herd or she’d be feeling most guilty. Doing sexy things in front of that mechling had become oddly diffi
cult. He had definitely once been a child’s toy. Basteer must have had kids, a wife. The children might have grown up, but the wife? Dead?
She didn’t know, or particularly want to know. It was just idle thinking.
I’m ready, she reaffirmed to JI-mech. Just waiting for a chance.
It would happen. It had to.
There’s something I have to tell you. You are aware that I can tap into the mechlings, to some degree, when they connect to the ship’s system? I can even sometimes upload programming to them?
Yes. Sort of, though I don’t exactly understand. Well, she didn’t know he could download programming to them. That was new.
I have to be careful the ship’s system remains unaware. Difficult, but worth the trouble. The important news I received is that Fern is to have her sentence carried out.
Oh shit. She lowered her head. Long ago, even when she’d been ignorant, innocent, of what was about to happen to them all, that sentence had seemed death.
When?
Tomorrow.
Poor Fern. She wanted to scream it at the sky but couldn’t. Surveillance, as always.
Poor, poor Fern.
Even so, no matter how she suppressed her emotions, tears were pouring from her eyes.
The girl was to have been married, on that other world, the one that was probably impossible to reach. What had Ben thought when half the important part of the wedding party had disappeared?
She shook that away. Irrelevant.
This was where she was, now.
She sat up and wiped away tears with her arm, what was left of them after the wind had snap-dried her face. Fern was surely going to die.
Don’t think it. Don’t say it. Maybe it won’t happen that way.
Chapter 22
The crowd seemed happy with the play. It’d been a heroic-themed story about a floating city in another world that settled down and made peace with the inhabitants, after the war was won first, of course. Not the usual. A little experimental even. Rebellious? He hoped no one saw it as that. It’d said what a lot of people dreamed of, even if stopping the Swathe would be a disaster, people still dreamed.
Acquired Possession (The Machinery of Desire Book 1) Page 11