by Alexa Black
Cailyn cried out again in despair and relief. To come like this, so quickly, from one touch alone! She hid her face in the pillow.
Yes, she thought as the tension left her body. Yours.
*
Faces circled their way around Cailyn’s videoscreen. They spun to the fore and then faded out as they scrolled by. She tapped her fingers on the table and shifted in her chair.
Her back, still bearing Teran’s mark, itched. A flare of sensation flickered through it as it rubbed against her chair.
In the end, she’d begged Teran to let her service her. Teran had wanted her to leave, but she would have none of it.
Her mouth had ached to taste Teran’s flesh. “It’s what I’m here for,” she’d said, dizzy with pain and desire. “Please.”
Teran had let her, hovering over her at the head of the bed. She’d drunk in the shining wetness like life-giving water, all thought of skill or technique gone.
Cailyn’s lips tingled, remembering Teran’s body above her. Then she shivered, running her fingers along her own goose-bumped skin. Marking her had fueled that passion.
And not just marking her. Cailyn wrapped her arms around herself, fingertips touching the cut on her shoulder. Pain flared through it, and she felt an answering pulse between her legs. Teran’s design wasn’t just any welt from a whip, just any bruise left by a paddle or fist. It was Teran’s symbol, carved there by her own hands.
Why should the memory warm her, Cailyn wondered, when she’d bought it with such pain?
But it wasn’t the pain she remembered. She remembered blood, her body a river, flowing out and out. It made her think of watching Lord Lerak kiss her father. That had made her knees weak. This had gone through her whole body.
If she could do that, she could surely do this.
She scrolled through the computer’s display. So Lady Nivrai wondered why she’d never been on the dark channels. Surely there was no harm in looking at them. Not now that she had bled for Teran, anyway.
She remembered her father’s soft, even voice. He’d rested a hand on her head. “Listen to me, Cailyn. A courtesan’s life isn’t always as fun as you think. And the dark channels are the worst of it. There’s a line between service and abasement. If you must follow my footsteps in this, promise me you won’t go there.”
She’d never promised, of course. She’d never promised him she wouldn’t follow in his footsteps, either.
She smiled. As much as he’d argued with her mother over petty things, he’d always been grateful to her for taking him away from that life.
His skill and poise had won too many admirers for his comfort. He’d settled down with his wife in a quiet house with the biggest library his fame could buy him. He still had a few old clients he saw, now and then, like Lord Lerak, but that only happened a few times.
It happened less and less after some unpleasant incidents when Cailyn was young. One noblewoman had decided she had a right to him, Guild law notwithstanding. Videocalls came to their little house in a constant stream. She’d found ways to run into him in public no matter how well the family hid. It was no wonder he’d left that life behind.
Cailyn, for her part, had always felt a sense of loss. She would look at her father, at the long straight hair she hadn’t inherited, the bluer-than-blue eyes and full lips she had, and wondered so much.
Her father had tried his best to keep her in the dark, but even he couldn’t overcome a young girl’s curiosity. She’d caught glimpses of the nobles’ faces as they flickered on her father’s videoscreen. Retirement didn’t mean he never spoke to any of them.
Cailyn had made a game of noticing when he did.
Their cold beauty fascinated her. What would it be like to catch and hold their attention? To be touched by them like something precious, a sculpture in glass? She knew her father was no fool, but she couldn’t understand why anyone would give that up once she had it.
She shook her head. She’d understood what she wanted from the beginning. She’d been right about the life she hoped for. But she’d never expected the tedium, the pointless demands, the carelessness of those more interested in use than pleasure.
And although no one who had hired Cailyn had ever defied Guild law, she knew that it didn’t always protect everyone. Invoking it after something serious went wrong would be too little too late.
She thought of her father’s warnings as the faces swirled though the display on the videoscreen.
The faces looked kind enough. She chuckled, the only sound in the room besides the faint music of the computer. What had she expected? Leering, snarling cruelty? She should know better.
A wide grin caught her eye. She recognized the bearded face: Lord Darien, from the videocall Teran had gotten. She’d liked him. It might be nice to be with someone full of jokes and laughter.
Not to mention the way he talked to Teran. He’d joked to her face about her nakedness, unfazed by her demeanor or her defiance.
Anyone like that was worth seeing, dark channels or no dark channels. She bit her lip and tapped the screen.
Chapter Ten
Vaulted ceilings rose high above Cailyn’s head. She walked through ornate halls, filigree on the walls accented in gold. After halls as plain as Teran’s, the bright gold and twisting patterns looked inviting. She touched the ornate doors, one after the other. They hissed open to admit her.
Lord Darien waited for her in a room at the end of the hall. Its carpet and drapery were a deep red. He sat in a large chair of the same color, one foot crossed over the other. He wore a white ruffled shirt as fancy as the room, and tight black leather breeches that looked like something out of a history book.
How would it feel to unbutton the white ruffles and slide her hand beneath, her fingers moving over his skin?
“So you’re Loriel Derys’s daughter.”
“I am.”
“He was the best of the best. I always thought it was a shame that I never saw you on the dark channels.”
Cailyn blushed and cast her eyes downward. “You flatter me, my lord.”
He stroked his chin. “And now you’re on them, apparently. I don’t think I’ve seen you there before.”
“I never have been, my lord.”
“Then you’re new to this.”
Cailyn allowed herself a laugh. “Not entirely.”
His eyes traced her face, her body. A thrill ran through her as he looked her over and nodded. “But now you’re curious.”
Cailyn raised her head and met his eyes. “Yes. I am.”
He stood up. “Come with me.” He took her hand
Velvety drapes and carpet adorned his private rooms. She’d thought the nobles who frequented the dark channels would choose more somber furnishings, not bright gold and white lace.
Maybe she’d grown too used to Nivrai.
She recognized equipment she’d seen in Lady Nivrai’s flagellary: crosses, benches, things she couldn’t name. Teran hadn’t bothered with six rooms. Cailyn wondered how many more rooms Lord Darien might have.
Teran had simple equipment: well made, sleek, comfortable enough for their purpose. These, velvety and padded, would feel pleasant to sink into anyway. She walked over to a bench and reached out to touch the patterned fabric.
He watched her hands move. “You like what you see, don’t you?”
She thought of Teran’s braided flogger, the thin lines it had seared into her skin. “I expected something more…” she paused, searching for the right words, “…harsh, my lord.”
“I’m not the harsh kind.”
“That’s a relief. My lord.”
He walked over and wrapped a hand in her hair, pulling her head upward to face him. Her knees went weak.
He kissed her, hard. His tongue went deep into her mouth, probing. It warmed her palate and she moaned.
She thought of Teran, of a different mouth coaxing her open. Her hips rocked. She felt faithless, already forgetting whom she served. What was she doing thinking of T
eran when someone else demanded her attentions?
His hands moved over her thin dress. At first she thought he intended to undress her, but his hands only wandered over her clothes, leaving trails of need behind them.
His fingers brushed her nipples through the thin fabric. Cailyn’s body arched toward him in response. He laughed, a rich sound. That, too, warmed her.
His fingers clasped around her nipples, pulled just hard enough to make her gasp. Without warning, he twisted them. Pain flared in her skin. Jolts raced through her.
Cailyn closed her eyes. Teran would pull harder, want to see her wince. But Darien’s fingers only whispered along her flesh again, soothing the ache they’d made.
She could learn to like this.
His fingers moved to the fasteners of her dress and slowly drew them down. His hands around her coaxed her out of it. She walked into his arms. The dress fell behind her as she stepped out of it.
He led her to a cross. Leather, rather than metal, encircled her ankles and wrists.
“Have you ever been flogged?” he asked. She felt the tails of a soft flogger trace along her back.
He snapped his fingers once. The lights dimmed. Soft music played.
Cailyn grinned. Sometimes the nobles’ lavish tastes could be a good thing.
“Yes.” Cailyn gasped out the answer. She thought of the gentle flogging Teran had given her. That other was for me. This is for you, she’d said.
And this one, too. The rhythm soothed her. She swayed, presenting her flesh to the blows. With Teran she had to watch herself, but here she could abandon herself without fear.
His next strokes hit her buttocks. The heat between her legs pulsed, spreading outward.
Teran had forced pleasure out of her, coaxing until her body had no choice. This built slowly in her flesh. Cailyn wriggled, hoping he would read her signal and swing faster.
“Please,” she heard herself say.
He did. She opened her mouth wide to cry her pleasure, her heart racing, her hair damp with sweat.
He ran a hand along her back as she went still. “You did like that,” he said, voice muffled as his lips moved along her skin.
His hands reached around her body to cup her breasts, then tugged at her nipples. Her body arched toward him. Her flesh tingled again with this new touch.
“Yes, my lord,” she breathed.
He kissed the restraints as he undid them. He held her hand in his as he led her to the bed.
It was the kind of gesture a lover might make and made Cailyn miss a lover’s touch. No one but Teran had touched her like that without someone else in mind.
And even Teran had Mariel to remember.
Teran’s claws had left trails of yearning where they passed. But maybe Teran’s penchant for seduction wasn’t so unique after all.
He undressed, revealing a broad, muscular body. Probably from doing so much of this, Cailyn thought, looking at the flogger in his hand. Teran had muscles too, but limited herself to doing this four times a year, if the stories were true. Were they all like this?
She imagined a room full of them, herself in the center, bound to a bench or table. The bodies all around her, moving through the shadows of the room, each wanting to be the first to reach her.
She was still dreaming of what they would do when he entered her. She moved with him, eager to take him in.
She watched him move above her. His eyes were bright with pleasure. His pace was steady, sure of the lightning each movement sent through her insides. He could use her like this for hours if he chose. She shuddered.
That made her think of Teran again, of the way her fingers had twisted inside her. She moaned again. Darien cried out his own answer, driving into her faster.
She felt like a traitor as the waves of pleasure rolled through her body. A moment ago, she’d been his. Now ice-gray eyes swam in her vision and shone with every thrust. She bit her lip to keep from crying out Teran’s name.
He froze inside her, caught and held by her spasming flesh, and then released. She took what he gave eagerly, evidence of his possession. She sighed as it washed her insides.
He pulled out of her gently. He smiled, and his eyes drooped with the lazy haze of his pleasure.
“Thank you, my lord,” Cailyn said as her heart slowed and the room came back into focus.
“The pleasure was mine, Cailyn Derys.”
He draped the flogger over his shoulder and stood up to put it away. Cailyn stopped him. She wanted him to stay with her, to talk longer. She liked the velvet of his voice.
He let her draw him close. She reached out a hand to toy with the tails of the flogger draped across his back. The light, rich leather felt good to her fingers.
“Curious?” he asked. “You could have fooled me. And half the dark channels.”
She laughed, half amused, half worried. Could she really hide her experience?
She wouldn’t have to for long. She’d already told Teran she wanted to go with her to that council meeting. Everyone would see her on Lady Nivrai’s arm.
There was no hiding that.
Her stomach fluttered. If she wasn’t ready for Lord Darien to know that she’d seen Teran, how could she be ready for the council members to see them together? Not to mention the lesser nobles who clung to their coattails, hung breathless on their decisions, craved their favor.
“You flatter me, my lord,” she said. She batted her eyelashes and hoped she sounded convincing.
He brought his face to hers. For a moment, she thought he would kiss her. She hoped he would.
Instead, he knotted his hand in her hair. He pulled her head back. “You’re not thinking of me, are you?”
She swallowed hard and moved her hands to his nipples, wanting to recapture the feeling of him.
“You were wonderful, my lord,” she said.
She hoped it didn’t sound glib. It was true. Her body spasmed, remembering him inside her. He had been wonderful, however far away from him her mind had wandered at the end.
“It’s all right.” He kissed her. “This is a job for you, after all. It’s easy for us to forget that. We can have you whenever we want you.”
Cailyn sighed and let her fingertips brush the brown buds of his nipples again.
“So who is it?” he asked. “A lover of yours? It must be more fun with them than with us.”
Cailyn shook her head. She liked Lord Darien. “No, my lord.”
He shook his head. “Whoever you were thinking of, you must like them.” He kissed her cheek.
Did she? She’d had clients she liked before. People she looked forward to seeing. People she missed. People she remembered serving, warm desire spreading through her body at the memories.
She wanted Teran; she knew that. She liked the way Teran touched her, like something precious. And, she admitted to herself, she liked wondering what someone like Lady Nivrai would do, the deadly newsteel tipping her fingers.
Lovely as this was, it wasn’t the same.
*
Two servants in Nivrai gray took Cailyn’s bags. They said little to her, so she said little to them. Curious eyes watched her pass. Whispering followed her. She could hear the voices asking where she went, wondering aloud if they could trust their eyes.
She watched them carry one bag off. Hidden in it like an iridescent treasure laid a colorful scarf she had bought at a market before coming here. It changed colors under different light. Charmed from the moment she held it in her hands, Cailyn had snatched it up.
Lady Nivrai would hate it.
But now and then, every courtesan had to do something like that. Everyone needed moments away, little things that brought them back to themselves after so long serving others’ wills. Somewhere, hidden in her things, was that scarf, shimmering and shifting.
The halls stretched endlessly, a white shining maze, tubes of warm light glowing along the walls. Some bore pictures of council members present or past, circlets glistening.
She stepped into a
n elevator behind the servants, staring at the plain pale walls, hoping to read something of her fate.
As they led her down the hall, she counted doors, her throat dry. What would Teran do with her?
“Your quarters,” one of her companions said. A door slid open.
A small bed filled the middle of the room. A dresser and mirror took up one wall. The other had two doors. One must have led to the bath. The other, Cailyn guessed, would grant quick access to and from Teran’s presence.
The servants behind her set down her bags. “You’ll find clothes in the closet. You are to dress in them.”
With that, they left. The door hissed shut behind them.
Cailyn slid out of her clothes. She ran her fingers along her breasts, stirring her nipples to erection. Teran would like it, she figured. She liked it as well and smiled at the thought of Teran’s approving smirk.
She tapped a button on the closet door. It slid open. Inside was a bodysuit, black and shiny. It would cover quite a bit of her skin.
She shivered, remembering the marks that Lady Nivrai had left on her. Perhaps she meant the shining black fabric to hide them.
She could—or Teran could—buy regenerations. The expensive treatments reconstructed damaged flesh, leaving it pristine and scarless. But black fabric solved the problem and wouldn’t hide the healing marks. Cailyn shook her head and chuckled.
Still, it raised a question. Did the courtesans who served the dark channels buy them often? Would it gall nobles who frequented them to see someone else’s marks on the courtesans they hired?
Or would it fan their desire, seeing bruises, welts, or cuts on the flesh of someone they wanted to hurt? Sometimes jealousy came with its own sharp pleasure.
Cailyn wrapped her arms around her chest, fingertips reaching her back. What did Lady Nivrai have in mind for it now?
She didn’t like the black. A stark color like that suited Teran better than Cailyn. Deep, rich colors did accentuate Cailyn’s pale skin and hair, but she was no fan of black. Black had no complexity, no richness to draw in the eye.
She shrugged and pulled it on anyway. It’s what my lady wants.