by Huss, JA
Then everyone is laughing. Maybe even I’m laughing? But I don’t know what’s funny.
Cort bends my knee and holds my pinky toe between his fingers, presenting it to me like something special and precious. They laugh again.
I have to squint to make out the shape. But it’s moving all over the place like it doesn’t want to be seen. So I give up and just shut my eyes with a long, audible sigh.
And that’s three times that I know of. Three times I have made noises tonight.
I don’t make noises.
Then the boy—Evard. His name is Evard, I remind myself—he’s hissing, and moaning, and wincing, so I open my eyes to find Cort dragging a needle over the back of his neck.
But I can’t keep my eyes open long enough to see the artwork, and then I just give in to the Lectra completely, my mind spinning as I breathe to the beat of Maart’s heart, which is pounding against my back.
I am fucked up.
Maart’s fingers are caressing a long, lazy pattern up and down the side of my thigh. I open my eyes again and find Rainer is done now and Evard is whining and complaining. Rainer drags him towards an open door on the other side of the room and pushes him through, closing the door, locking it with a loud click, as he turns back to us.
His grassy eyes find mine. And then he crosses the room with a smile and kneels in front of me. Right between my legs.
Then two hands that belong to two different people open my legs up and Rainer lifts the skirt of my white dress up and out of the way.
I catch one more look at those bright green eyes and then he dips his head down and begins to lick me.
CHAPTER SIX - CORT
Anya’s entire body bucks up when Rainer licks her. She gasps, and I already know that making that little noise bothers her. Her silence goes way beyond not talking. She does not want to make any sound at all. Not a sigh, not a groan, and certainly not a moan.
Good luck with that, Anya. Good luck with that when Rainer’s mouth is between your legs. When his tongue is working its magic against your pretty little nub.
She hasn’t got a chance.
Rainer pauses and I grin at him. It has been a long time since we’ve done this and I suddenly feel great.
Last fight. Last fucking fight and I made it.
I’m done. We’re done.
And after we finish celebrating here tonight I have just one more training camp and I will have earned out. I will have bought my freedom. And I will be able to take Evard, Rainer, and Maart with me.
Do I feel a little guilty about leaving the others behind? Of course. But I gave up trying to save the world a long time ago.
Saving everyone would mean a dozen more fights. At least. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about being on top it’s this: Someone is always coming up trying to take your place and the best time to quit is when you’re ahead.
If forced, I could probably win two, maybe three more elite-level fights. But anything more than that is just a delusion. And three more fights won’t be enough to make any kind of difference. Hell, one loss is all it takes to wipe everything I’ve ever done away. I will lose everything I’ve ever loved and sacrificed for if I don’t win.
Rainer and Maart can take care of themselves. They don’t really need me. If I die, they will make it. Somehow. But I won’t play with Evard’s future like that.
Rainer looks at Anya with those questioning green eyes of his. Then he pauses and drags the back of his hand across his glistening lips. “You gotta tell me yes before I go any further.”
Huh. This is new. But this Anya girl is very, very different than the kind of girls who end up in our room after a winning fight. When I look over at Anya I’m surprised she has her eyes open. She doesn’t answer his question. Just stares back at him.
Come on, Anya. You know you want it. Just tell the man yes and he’ll get back to business.
Maart, ever my trusty fucking mind-reader, pulls these words right out of my head. “Yeah, Anya. You have to give permission.” He caresses her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingertips. She’s practically lying on his bare chest. He didn’t get tattooed tonight and neither did Rainer, but they lost their shirts hours ago.
Hmm. What will our little Anya do? Nod her head? Whine for more? Grunt?
No. I smile big. Because our Anya reaches down, places the flat palm of her hand on the top of Rainer’s head, and pushes him back into position.
Maart and I exchange grins.
Clever girl. And horny. Though that might be the Lectra. But also so very, very committed to her fucking silence.
And I don’t know why, but I love that about her.
Maart’s turn. He wraps his arms around her, opens up her loose-fitting low-cut dress, and plays with both breasts as he dips his mouth down to her ear. “How about me? You want me to stop? I’m gonna need an answer if you want to keep going.”
He’s toying with her. Playing with her the way a cat plays with a captured mouse.
She stares straight ahead, eyes fixed on something on the far wall. One hand is still in position on Rainer’s head, guiding him as he licks her pussy. He must hit her sweet spot because she bites her lip and closes her eyes for an elongated blink before opening them back up, wider than ever.
Maart pinches her nipple. Hard. And the pain is sharp enough to make her gasp again. “I’m waiting, Anya. I don’t like to wait.” He growls out the last few words as his left hand squeezes her breast.
She has very nice tits. They are large and firm and even though I know the meaning of the red-on-white symbols encircling her nipples, I like the way it looks. I like the way she wears it. I like the way she plays her part.
The sacrifice. That’s what she was tonight. Lazar’s sacrifice.
Here’s something I bet our Anya didn’t know. I was supposed to kill her tonight. I was told to throw her off the ship, not Pavo.
Udulf took me aside just before I went out on the platform and told me that’s what Lazar wanted. And what did I care? What’s one more dead girl? It’s not like I get to keep them. And Udulf—well, he has no interest in a girl Anya’s age. She’s… not his type.
So I fucked up their plans by throwing Pavo over instead of Anya. Right now, somewhere on this ship, in some private space or compartment, or storage hold, there should’ve been a ritual to commemorate her death.
I smile just thinking about Lazar’s panic as we were dragging Pavo’s body towards the edge. Did he know I wasn’t going to do it? Did he know?
Yes. He had to know. And he was panicked.
Why? Why this girl?
If my father is mad that I let Anya live, he didn’t show it.
But he is the master of deception.
Still, without Anya he might’ve lost tonight.
Without Anya I might be dead.
So do I think he cares that she wasn’t sacrificed in the end?
Probably not.
Maart slaps her breast and growls, “Fucking answer me, Anya.”
Rainer stops eating her pussy and wipes his hand across his wet lips again. “You better say yes or we’ll just throw you in the bedroom and go find someone else to play with.”
“Someone more willing,” Maart adds.
I hold my breath for a moment, wondering if she’ll bow out.
I’m not gonna lie, I’d be disappointed if we had to go find someone else. I mean, she’s already here.
Rainer has already gotten a taste.
Maart is practically in position.
She answers him, but not with sounds. She answers him with a hand. Again.
This time she reaches behind her back and grabs Maart’s dick. He grins at me and shrugs.
And it’s settled. She is in. So now it’s my turn.
Rainer hasn’t resumed his licking yet, even though he’s still in position and Anya is still trying to encourage him with her hand on his head. “Now,” he says. “Now you have to let Cort know you want it.” His tongue darts out and the tip swipes ac
ross her clit. She hisses air through her teeth. “And if you don’t want to talk, fine with us. We like your silence. Nothing worse than a mouthy woman.”
Maart and I both laugh.
“But you better find a way to say yes in the next ten seconds, Anya. Because if you don’t, we’ll just jerk each other off real quick to quell the need and then go find ourselves someone with more spirit.”
Anya looks at me and even though she says nothing—not with words, not with her eyes, not even with a crooked smile—I know the question inside her head.
You like men?
Don’t we all like men, Anya? I sign that back to her and both Rainer and Maart chuckle.
And then Anya surprises me. She removes her hand from Rainer’s head, twists her body towards me—creating space between her and Maart—and then she leans in, blue eyes locked with mine, and slowly… ever so fucking slowly… closes the distance between us until her soft mouth, all pliant and willing, touches mine.
She holds that position, neither kissing me nor not kissing me, and we breathe a lifetime of breaths in that pause.
Up until now I hadn’t really felt the Lectra but it suddenly kicks in and my dick is instantly hard inside my shorts.
The dream-state is immediate and I kiss her.
I kiss her and she kisses me back.
And she tastes like blood.
Her tongue touches mine and I lean into it, pushing her back on top of Maart. Rainer is standing up, tugging his shorts down his long, muscular legs. Maart is desperately trying to unbutton his pants and get his dick out. I end up helping him as Anya and I continue to kiss. I lift up her hips as Maart pumps his cock, and then Rainer is helping me place her on top of Maart.
Rainer kneels down again and resumes licking her pussy while I play with her clit. Getting her wet enough for what comes next.
She bites her lip and closes her eyes when Rainer places Maart’s cock at the tight entrance of her ass, and when Maart thrusts upward, she cries out. Her small protest tumbles over my tongue and gets lost inside my mouth as Rainer and I each slip a finger inside her pussy.
Anya is gasping and moaning as we slide in and out, feeling the length of Maart’s cock inside her ass. Rainer keeps licking and every now and then his tongue caresses my finger. I shiver.
“Get on top of her,” Maart whispers, his mouth right up next to my ear. “Get inside her. I want to feel you, Cort. I want to feel your dick inside her.”
I want it too.
I continue kissing Anya as Maart lifts her knees up to her breasts and then I straddle their bodies. Rainer has my cock in his hand, squeezing it, sliding his huge palm up and down my thick shaft. Then he places me at the entrance of her wet pussy and I slide right in.
She moans. And it’s not even soft.
But I moan too. And so does Maart. Rainer is standing on the couch now, his dick in his hand as he eases it towards my face. I pull back from kissing Anya, glance up at him, and smile. Then take his giant cock in my hand and play with the tip until he closes his eyes and moans.
Then I push Anya’s face towards Rainer. She opens her mouth without objection and I’m fascinated as his cock disappears past her lips.
But that passive fascination doesn’t last because Maart is fucking her ass. Thrusting his hips upward, desperately trying to feel me.
I take my attention back to him. His face is right there, just below Anya’s right shoulder, and all I have to do is lean down.
His kiss is always rough. He always bites. And I laugh when he tries it, pulling back just in time so he can’t draw blood.
And then… I begin to move.
Anya is full-on moaning now. Not even bothering to stop the “Ooooh, ooooh, ohhhhh,” as she ruins her vow of silence. She shreds this vow of silence with moans.
But nobody cares. She certainly doesn’t.
And so we just fuck like that. Me in her pussy. Maart in her ass. And Rainer in her mouth.
She comes quickly. Too quickly.
But we don’t stop and she comes again. And again. And again.
And I get lost in the Lectra, and the sex, and the feeling of everything being just the way it should be.
It’s a trick. It’s the electric-blue liquid inside me. It takes over and it doesn’t give up. Not easily. Not quickly.
This is the beginning of the end.
And I begin to drift.
My body is still moving the way it should. Maart is caressing my ass as he fucks her. Rainer is back on his knees between our legs, licking us. Licking all of us. Anya is clawing my shoulders with her nails. Orgasming. And every time I move the wrong way and the sharp pain of bruised and broken ribs forces me to come up for a breath of reality, the Lectra is there.
The Lectra takes care of that too. The Lectra… takes care of everything. Our naked bodies are the only things that matter.
But the Lectra takes you prisoner as well, if you’re not careful. And I’m not being careful about anything right now because for the first time in my life I feel like a free man.
So I let the Lectra in. I let it grab a hold of my mind. And pretty soon it’s asking me questions.
Let’s go for a walk, Cort. Would you like to go for a walk with me?
Like no is even an option. When the Lectra invites you along, you go.
So I go. And find myself in a hazy room. Smoke, I think, because I can smell it—a mixture of tobacco, opium, and cannabis.
When I look down, I am tiny. Very small. Smaller than Evard, even. My body brown from the sun, and sweaty, and naked. The room is filled with men.
It’s not just smoke. It’s steam. Because I’m in a bathhouse.
I don’t think I want to go there.
But the Lectra answers, Since when do you have choices, Cort van Breda?
Are you listening to me?
It’s the Lectra talking, but no. It’s not. It’s a girl. Older than me. I think I know her name, but the Lectra is controlling me now, so I don’t have time to remember it. I glance past the girl and see a man with blond hair. He’s naked and laughing at some other boys, bigger than me, but only by a few years.
Are you listening to me?
I look back at the girl, but don’t say anything.
She’s pointing her finger in my face.
Go!
That’s what she’s telling me to do.
Run!
She’s shaking me by the shoulders, trying to pull me to my feet. But my head is swimming with confusion.
I think it’s the opium.
Or the Lectra.
Run!
And then the Lectra’s grip on me eases and I’m on my feet. I’m on my feet and really am running. Hard. Fast. I’m naked and running through the bathhouse. Turning corners. Bare feet slapping on the slick tiles. Slipping.
Everything is slipping.
And then bam!
I slam into a man.
When I look up, I see Udulf.
My father. But he’s not my father.
He wasn’t my father then and he isn’t my father now.
He’s just… breathe… one of them.
I can’t breathe.
No air is getting in and I’m gasping for it. Desperate for it.
But then I hear Rainer. “Cort! Let go! Let go!”
And then my eyes focus…
…and I’m back.
Both of my hands are wrapped around Anya’s neck. Her eyes are wide with surprise and she’s gripping my shoulders, digging her fingernails into my skin. I stop strangling her and she sucks in air like she hasn’t taken a breath in years.
Maart is still underneath her. And we are still fucking. Her tits bounce and wiggle with the force of two men near climax.
Maart reaches that place first. He slips his dick out of her ass, pushes us off him, and then kneels on the couch so he can spray her breasts with his come.
I keep going. Trying to get deeper and deeper inside her. Trying to own her. She’s still gripping my shoulders, her knees bent
and legs lifted and wide open.
But then Rainer takes her hand and places it on his cock. He helps her finish him off, his hand on top of hers, fully covering it. Pumping back and forth as white come spurts onto her breasts and mixes with Maart’s.
I lean down and kiss her, not even caring that both our upper bodies are now slick with the sexual release of other men. I bury my face in her neck, biting her earlobe until she pants and wiggles in protest.
And I like her struggle. I like the way she resists. I like the way her soft body presses against mine. I like the way she grips my hair, fisting it, pulling it so hard, my scalp burns.
I like the way her mouth finds mine. The way her tongue slides in and out of it, like she’s fucking me instead of me fucking her. I like the way her pussy tightens against my shaft when she finds one more release inside her. I like the way she gushes. And I like the way she gasps when I come inside her.
I don’t ask permission to do this.
I don’t need permission.
I am not a little boy in a bathhouse.
I am Cort van Breda, Ring of Fire World Champion for ten years running.
I own this girl.
Anya Bokori is mine.
I don’t know what happens next. All I know is that I’m wearing shorts again—still barefoot—and I’m cruising through the tight, nearly claustrophobic hallways of the ship.
I don’t know where Rainer is. Or Maart. Or Evard. And even though I should care about that—about Evard, at the very least—I don’t care.
The Lectra is one hundred percent in control.
It’s telling me where to go and when I get there, it will tell me what to do as well.
People stop when I approach.
They press themselves into the walls, eyes downcast.
Looking at the floor.
Looking at anything but me.
I know I’m fucked up. That’s the thing about the Lectra. It gives you glimpses. It gives you moments. But you gotta obey it too. You can’t tell it no. It will spit in your face if you try.
So I go with it. I flow with it.
And pretty soon I’m not on the ship anymore. I’m walking the platforms of the Rock, alone in the middle of an angry ocean. Small and hungry. Beaten and bruised. Humiliated and sad.