CYBORG PLEASURE; the Space Madame's Warrior

by Cathryn Cade

  Playa exchanged a look of profound relief and satisfaction with Bek. They both knew this from the IGSF officers who had been stationed here, but it was good to hear it again.

  “We, the owners, will not in any way be involved with the capture, coercion or sale of beings.” Mondas said. “But ... we are also not under any illusion that all of Vadyal's loyal cronies are gone from this station.”

  Oh, no. Mondas was here to do more than run this casino. Playa moved involuntarily, and Bek's hand tightened on her shoulder, warning her to stay still.

  Ilya Mondas might be a small woman, but the way she faced the holocams now reminded Playa that she was also a warrior—one who did not necessarily follow the rules of the IGSF.

  “If those responsible for the coercion or death of any other beings on this station or any other kind of wrong-doing are still here, I will find you. Any credit you may have made will be confiscated, and I will have you punished.'

  Light flashed behind Mondas' head, and this time it was as if lightning struck inside the room. Ilya Mondas continued to stare into the holocam, her gaze vengeful as if she were staring directly at another being only she could see. As if she were gathering the power of the cosmos at her command to strike them, whenever she chose.

  “That is all.” She broke the link and rose.

  Playa gasped, rocking back in her chair, and Bek pushed her behind him as thunder rumbled. Playa let out a shaky breath and slid her chair sideways so she could see around Bek. He was furious, his face flushed, jaw tight.

  “What the hells was that?” he demanded. “You could hurt someone with that—whatever that was.”

  “That was tech, pure and simple.” The blonde smirked. “And no, not unless I intend to hurt them.”

  “You're fully in control of that?” His tone said he doubted this.

  “Yeah, 'cause I invented it. Don't worry, I haven't used it to actually maim anyone ... yet.”

  Bek shook his head. “Are you here to run this place?” he asked Ilya, “Or to hunt someone down?”

  Playa held her breath as Ilya Mondas' gaze flicked from Bek to Playa and back. “If I am, are you two gonna help me, or get in my way?”

  The guard captain paced into the room and turned, shaking his head. “You've just made both a lot more difficult,” he said. “Ever heard of diplomacy?”

  Ilya Mondas' brow rose. “Have you?”

  Bek shrugged. “You seem to value plain speaking, so I'll give it in return. I say you're here to hunt. Just wish you'd spoken to me and Playa before laying it all out. Your little speech will have half the employees running scared, scurrying to hide their activities, whether that's a little cheating on their game or something deeper. The other half of them will be out for your blood, before you can take theirs. Starting a guerrilla war ... maybe not the best way to run a place that provides a fantasy escape for its guests.”

  “I'm not here to make friends,” she snapped.

  “That's good, because you didn't with that speech—you made enemies. I'm head of security here. That means I protect this station and everyone on it. You've just made it a lot more difficult for me to protect you. A frightened being can be just as dangerous as a trained killer.”

  “Why should they be scared, if they aren't involved in any wrong-doing? You should all be glad you're not under the control of Vadyal and his kind any longer.”

  Playa glided forward a step, speaking in a soothing voice. “Why don't I order us some refreshment? Then we can discuss how best to go forward in a cooperative manner.”

  Ilya Mondas gave her a narrow-eyed look. “If you two aren't on my side, you can leave now. I'm not gonna waste my time trying to talk you around.”

  Playa sighed inwardly. “I'm sure we are on your side, ma'am. Perhaps if you explain more clearly what that entails.”

  “Yeah, I'll be clear. Vadyal may be dead, but he was just the head of the serpent. I'm here to make sure the body isn't still slithering around this place—and to make this place turn a profit on its own, without the padding of blood credits.”

  Playa looked up at Bek, who nodded, although his jaw was still set.

  “Then we are on your side,” he said. “If before making any bigger moves, you'll consult with me or Playa.”

  Mondas showed her teeth. “I may. And another thing—there'll be no more 'entertainment' like the holovid that played in my lav when I entered it. Yeah, I see by your look you know exactly what I mean. Made me wish Vadyal was here so I could kill the bastard all over again and thank his mistress for doing so. If any of our 'guests' come there for that shit, they're now out of luck.”

  “Sorry you had to see those, ma'am. Vadyal's quarters were the only part of this station that hadn't been swept for those holovids,” Bek said, spitting out the words as if they tasted foul. “I saw to clearing the rest of the station, but the IGSF Commander wouldn't let us in this office after he took control. I also turned the hololinks over the IBI. If any of those poor females are still out there somewhere ... well, at least they're being searched for.”

  “All right. At least there's that.”

  “Coffee service is here,” Playa said with desperate cheer. “Shall I let them in?”

  “Why not?” Their boss waved her hand. “Since I seem to be stuck with you two.”

  Bek and Playa exchanged a look. At least she was better than Vadyal. Except that she seemed to be just as rezzed, in a different way.

  Their new CEO was hunting for anyone left that had been closely associated with Vadyal? The Great God Beyond watch over them all if she found who she was searching for—or that Bek and Playa had known where to find them all along.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ilya was dreaming of Var again. He stood on one of the low hilltops around camp on the Frontieran prairie, soft qitar music playing from around the campfire below. He smiled at her and beckoned her to join him. But as she ran through the tall prairie grass, it clung to her legs and feet, tangling her in soft but clinging strands so she couldn't reach the hilltop.

  “Wait for me,” she called. “I'm coming.”

  But he shook his head, his smile gone, then turned and walked away from her.

  The scene changed in the way of dreams, and they were in one of the main passageways of the Palace. Var strode along, far ahead of her, and this time he was nude, his broad backing gleaming pale in the glow-lamps. He turned and looked back at her, his broad, tanned face set in a scowl.

  “You should have saved me,” he called to her, and then he disappeared through a doorway that suddenly appeared in the wall of the corridor.

  When Ilya reached the place, he was gone, no sign of any door. She beat on the wall, weeping.

  “I'm sorry,” she called, trying to be heard over the music, which was louder now. “I'm sorry. I won't do it again—just give me one more chance, Var.”

  She woke to Rodi Fendur singing one of her heart-wrenching anthems. The woman rarely used words, so her listeners could simply steep themselves in her music like tears. Ilya's face and pillow were wet, and her legs were tangled in the satin sheets.

  She kicked away the clinging fabric so hard the bed jolted under her, then sucked in a sobbing breath as she instantly remembered that Var was gone—for good.

  And maybe her search for his killer was as fruitless as her actions in the dream. The IGSF officers had occupied the station for weeks, so surely any of Vadyal's slimy minions would've scuttled for the nearest exit. Any left on this station were very skilled at hiding.

  No! She sat up and flung back the covers. She'd barely begun. She would find his killer. And she'd rain hells on anyone who was helping to hide the being or his deeds. She'd get justice for her man. And if it looked a lot like revenge, she could live with that.

  She slipped from the huge bed. It was supremely comfortable, although she much preferred it in the dark. With the glowlamps on, the sheets' crimson hue made it look as if she was stepping from a pool of congealed blood.

  She caught sight of
herself in the huge, real glass mirrors and froze for a sec, wondering how the hells that slim, elegant woman had gotten into her quarters. Her hair was still coiled chicly, her face still made up, and she wore a sleep tee and shorts of oyster lii silk, the tee loose enough to hang off one shoulder, the fabric so supple that her nipples were clearly delineated. The subtle hue made her own coloring more vivid, tanned, blonde and flushed from sleep. The shorts bared her strong, slender legs.

  Even her bare hands and feet looked different, all smoothed and tipped with gold. Dano and Rega would certainly approve. She was polished like a stone from the river, glistening in the Frontieran sunshine.

  But Var would never see her this way, and who the hells cared about anyone else? Her momentary pleasure in her transformation gone, Ilya strode into the lav.

  The salon staff had left a metal basket of salon products for her to use—lotions, soaps, crèmes and cosmetics. These last she eyed dubiously. If she had to redo her face, she was calling for help.

  Dano had tried to teach her to apply cosmetics once. It had not gone well. Of course they'd been into their third pac of wine by that time. The memory eased her tension, making her smile under the spray of hot water from the showerdry.

  When she was clean, she slapped on some lotion, gave her face and damp hair a cursory glance in the mirrors, and padded from the lav into the huge dressing room. She stopped, staring in consternation. The once empty space was now half full of clothing, shoes and accessories. How was she supposed to figure out what to wear with what?

  She approached the racks and shelves cautiously. Ah, thank God, someone had grouped the garments into what appeared to be ensembles.

  A velvety olive jacket and pants had been paired with a plum tank, and a pair of brown platform shoes with pointed toes was set on the shelf underneath.

  There was even an open velvet box with some purplish earrings and a ring. She snorted. Yeah, like she was gonna wear pieces of metal and rock hanging from her ears every day ... although these were kinda pretty.

  Anyway, where were the undies? She yanked open the top drawer in the nearest built in bureau, and stared. The drawer was full of carefully arranged panties in every hue, of delicate knit and lace. Each pair had a light bra in her size underneath. Okay, then.

  She grabbed a pair of pale blush panties and stepped into them. She left the bra in the drawer. She rarely wore one, small and firm as her breasts were. Not that there was much point in fancy undies for her now.

  Since Var died, she hadn't even looked at other males. Well, until VX. Unlike the males who'd offered to 'comfort' her back in camp, VX was a little hard to ignore. He was pure Pangaean honey for the eyes.

  Clad in the panties, she pulled the purple tank from the hanger, and turned. She let out a startled yelp.

  A huge male loomed in the doorway of the dressing room. He wore only a dark loincloth wrapped around and between his massive thighs. He wore a mask, but it covered only the top of his skull and framed his eyes, leaving bare the lower half of his smooth-shaven face. Shit, he was as big as VX-900.

  Her heart pounding, Ilya reached for her weapon pac, remembered she'd left it beside the bed, and cursed silently. Then she realized two things—his dark gaze was familiar, and it was traveling with slow thoroughness down over her nearly nude body. Secondly, he was VX—had to be ...

  Heat scorched through her, from the inside out—her cheeks and throat, her bare chest and down, down deep into her center, settling in a throbbing ache between her thighs. Her libido had chosen this inconvenient time to awaken with a vengeance.

  “VX?” she asked, her voice husky.

  His huge hands flexed at his sides, as his gaze slid up to meet hers. Ilya nearly rocked back as their gazes met and locked with a thud that she actually heard. No wait, that was her pulse, pounding in her ears.

  God, it had been months since she'd felt a man's touch, the insistent drive of a cock into her wet, aching center. And she did ache, with an empty need that nearly sent her to her knees. For so long, she'd felt nothing but empty, dark, grief. Now her body, at least, was coming back to life.

  “Do you require my assistance?” he asked. The now familiar question sounded completely different this time. His deep smoky voice wrapped around and inside her like a delectable lash.

  Ilya tore her gaze from his and let it move downward, over the smooth, cerametal hard satin of his bare shoulders, chest and abs. Behind his low-slung dark loincloth, a huge shape tented the fabric.

  She swallowed, her mouth watering with instant and overpowering craving.

  “Yeah,” she breathed. “I think I do ... uh, require you.” Needed him—more than her next breath, almost. Guilt niggled her, but she shoved it away. Wasn't like it'd disloyal to Var's memory, because it wouldn't be anything more than swift, physical relief.

  The silk tank slipped from her fingers, falling to the floor in a slick whisper. Her inhibitions followed as VX moved forward, in a smooth prowl, his gaze holding hers like a leash.

  His heat reached her first, radiating off his huge body, and wrapping her head to toe in bliss. Then he grasped her waist, and the heat ratcheted up to danger levels. His huge calloused hands were like sun-fired cerametal, branding her as his to mold and use.

  She may have whimpered—that soft sound came from someone's throat and it surely wasn't his. He was a massive, golden creature whose presence swallowed the rest of the enclosed room in male, elemental and raw.

  Her head reached only the middle of his chest. This close, she breathed in only him, saw only him, felt only him as he lifted her up and sat her on the bureau behind her. He made a low sound of satisfaction as the action placed her hips level with his chest, and his gaze fell to her breasts, his thick lashes veiling his eyes in the eyeholes of the mask.

  Her breasts tightened to throbbing peaks under that knowing gaze, her nipples furling into long points that ached to be touched. Ilya fought for breath, drawing in a deep, shaken gasp as his hands slip up from her hips, spanning the narrow indentation of her waist and up, encompassing her ribs in calloused heat, framing her breasts.

  She looked down and shuddered with pleasure. Her breasts were small, ripe and delicate in the frame of his rawly masculine hands.

  “God,” she choked. “VX, touch me—please.”

  He grunted, his breath soughing warm and moist across her chin as he lifted his hands and cupped her breasts. Ilya fought her eyes open to see his wide mouth part, revealing the moist curve of his lower lip, the white edge of his teeth, and the curve of his tongue. She whimpered again, and reached up to lay her hands on his shoulders—so hot and smooth under her grasp, living power barely leashed—and tugged him closer.

  His gaze flicked up to meet hers, and he watched her as he fondled her, lifting her breasts, squeezing, then plumping them high in the vee of his thumbs and forefingers to tweak her nipples with his thumbs. That hot, calloused caress sent pleasure shooting through her so hard she had to hang on to him to keep from falling limp on the bureau. Her pussy contracted and then swelled, aching with need.

  “Your mouth,” she begged. “Use your mouth on them.”

  He dove at her, cocking his head to curl his tongue around her nipple and then suck it into his mouth, hot and wet and sublime.

  “Oh, God,” she whimpered. “Oh yes. God, yes.”

  He gave her that pleasure for a long, fraught moment, a symphony punctuated by her ragged breaths, then turned his attentions to her other breast and laved it with equal pleasure.

  Ilya squirmed in his grasp, opening her legs and flexing them out to wrap her calves around his hips, desperate to draw him nearer. He was unbelievably hard, smooth flesh and slippery cloth warmed by his skin, the smooth plush of his flank and the taut curve of his ass begging to be explored.

  “Touch me,” she begged. “Touch my pussy.”

  Still suckling her, he reached down, hooked his fingers in the thin lace of her panties, and yanked. They ripped away, leaving her bared and open. When
he cupped her mons in his huge hand, Ilya cried out, a high, soft paean of relief and praise.

  “Wet,” he rumbled. One word that slid into her as easily as his long, thick finger delving into her. Sensation coalesced around his digit, and Ilya tipped her head back, eyes closed, concentrating utterly as he fucked her with his finger, nearly perfect, but she needed more, harder.

  He flicked her clitoris with his thumb, and her pussy contracted around his finger, pleasure and striving need.

  “You,” she demanded, pulling him closer with her legs, and sliding one hand down the perfection of his hard, rippling abs to find and yank at his loincloth. “I want your cock—inside me.”

  The loincloth tore away, she had one glimpse of his cock, flushed purple with arousal, a huge curve of male need, and then he was positioning it at her entrance and flexing his hips, pressing into her wet, swollen labia.

  “Wait. You have all the vaccinations, right?” she managed, her brain barely able to concentrate on the question.

  “Yes, all.” He continued to push.

  Too much, too big ... but he was stroking her clit with that knowing thumb, and rocking, rocking, working his way into her with careful precision despite the rigidity of his body. Sweat dampened his skin, the harsh sibilance of his breath through clenched teeth.

  Then he was in, so deep and hard inside her that the room, the station and the galaxy narrowed down to his magnificent cock withdrawing with dragging slowness and then thrusting back in, wetter and slipperier with each move. Raking nerves she'd forgotten she possessed, sweeter and better with each pass.

  Ilya fell back on her braced hands and hung on to him with her legs, digging her heels into his ass, reveling in the flex of those powerful muscles with each thrust. She let him drive her up the delicious slope of pleasure, opening her eyes to take in all that was him looming over her, to their joining. God, how could she have gone so long without this?