CYBORG PLEASURE; the Space Madame's Warrior

by Cathryn Cade

  “Look at us,” she gasped, watching as his cock appeared, his girth glistening with her, then disappeared, his smooth groin slapping against her mons with delicate, wet blonde curls, his lean, cut hips forcing her thighs outward with each thrust. “God, we're so ...”

  Perfect, she meant to say, but then she looked into his eyes, and the fire there swept in and over her and flung her up and over the peak, her body convulsing around him. Yes. Perfect.

  He rode her through her ecstasy, and then stiffened in her grasp, his body bowing, a low, harsh groan of completion rumbling through his chest. His hot seed flooded her, and Ilya came again, a sweet echo of her first orgasm.

  He laid her back on the flat, smooth surface of the bureau. Ilya let her arms fall behind her head, and her legs fall from their grip around his hips. She lay there, panting for breath, and then laughing a little with relief and something almost like joy.

  She dragged her eyes open to smile at him. “Now that we've got that awkward first time out of the way, you want some coffee and breakfast? I'm starving.”

  Immediately she wished the words back. Gah, she'd let him fuck her, she didn't need to be laying herself open for emo shit too. Wasn't like she wanted another man in her life, not after Var. No other male could ever replace him.

  She shoved her vulnerability down deep where it belonged. She needed food and caffeine, so no reason she couldn't share with him. And she was curious, that's all. Hells, was she ever curious. Questions tumbled over each other in her mind. She wanted to know more about him. Who was he? Why was he here? Where did he go when he disappeared? How many others like him were there?

  But her lover straightened slowly. His lashes veiled his gaze as he pulled his cock out of her, then bent. He'd picked up his loincloth, and used it to clean himself before belting it around his hips.

  Although his face was still flushed and damp under the lower edge of the mask, his massive chest still moving rapidly with his breaths, he met her gaze, his face wiped clean of all expression, as if their intimacy had never happened.

  “I do not eat outside the quarters. Please deposit the credits for our transaction in my account. Link if you wish my services again.”

  Then he turned and sauntered out of her dressing room. Leaving Ilya staring after him, empty except for his seed trickling out her, and as stunned as if he'd slapped her.

  She knifed to a sitting position. What the hells had just happened? Humiliation dropped over her like a fetid, wet blanket. She'd thought they were enjoying an interlude of friendly, mutual lust ... and he'd been fucking a paying client.

  Oh, God. VX-900 was a whore. Hiring out his hands and his tongue and his cock to whoever wanted them.

  There was nothing Ilya hated more than being made a fool of.

  Thus, she clamped a lid on the cold wash of humiliation, and the hurt that attempted to make itself felt. Instead, she let the burning wash of fury snap her spine straight, clamp her jaw, narrow her eyes and send her to her feet.

  Shoulders back, hands clenched in fists, she marched back into the showerdry to wash every speck of her gullibility off of herself, along with his scent and his touch.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  She dressed with precision, checking in the holomirrors to make sure she presented the glam, professional appearance she wanted. The woman in the mirrors gazed back, cool and hard-eyed.

  Ilya saluted her. “Let's go show 'em what a real bitch looks like.”

  She linked her assistant and the guard captain. “My office, immediately.”

  When Playa glided into the office, followed by the stocky guard captain, Ilya turned from the holoscreens on her wall, all of which were on except the odd bank she hadn't figured out yet.

  She winced at the gaudily garbed pair. “Okay, we have a lot to do today, but first—both of you go and change into something that doesn’t have me reaching for my sungoggles.”

  Playa's eyes widened. “We—we do not have to wear these uniforms any longer?”

  “Not on my watch. Vadyal's taste in business, sex and fashion were all shit. The casino—I guess that's gotta be bright, but I don't see why the sight of you two should burn my eyeballs.”

  Bek was already turning away, but Playa stayed where she was. “Perhaps we might also allow our staff to dress themselves more conservatively?”

  Ilya gestured impatiently. “I don't care, you worry about that.”

  “We'll be right back,” Bek said, pulling Playa's chair along with him as he walked to the doors.

  “Don't give her too many decisions to make at a time,” she heard him tell Playa before the doors shut behind them. “You'll only anger her.”

  Too late, she was already angry. She was burning from the inside out, with a fire that wasn't going to be quenched with less than blood. Thus, she was gonna use that fire, and them, to do what she'd come here for.

  While she waited for Playa and Bek to return, Ilya ordered breakfast. Although her appetite had fled after VX-900's exit, she needed to fuel her body and her brain. Being on this station with no indicators of night or day except clocks made her crave stimulants, which for her meant Pangaean green tea. With some whiskey in it, if she didn't stop alternately sighing as her body sang with sexual satisfaction and then grinding her teeth as she remembered the way that sex had ended.

  With a muttered curse, she turned on her heel and paced back the other way across the huge office.

  It didn't help to remember that none of this was VX's fault. Not his fault she'd made their fuck out to be the beginning of something more. And not even his fault he'd had her and walked away.

  It was her fault for being such a naive, stupid little immi with fucking stars in her eyes. God. Hadn't her past taught her anything? People used each other, that's what they did. For credit, for thrills, for power and all the rest.

  Yeah, once in a blue moon a guy like Var came along, who just wanted a woman for herself, wanted to please her as much or more as she pleased him. Wanted her to be happy and safe and fulfilled.

  But he'd been one in a million.

  Bek and Playa returned quickly, he in dark pants and jacket, Playa in a neat red suit that highlighted her pale skin and ebony hair.

  Ilya's breakfast arrived with them. A Pangaean in a black uniform ushered a large hovertray into her office, shooting nervous looks from her to Bek and Playa. If his hair hadn't been enclosed in a cap, Ilya was sure it would've been writhing around his neck.

  Who was he scared of, her? The guard captain? Slender Playa in her hoverchair certainly wasn't the type to engender fear.

  “Will the two of you be wanting breakfast as well?” the waiter asked Bek and Playa. “I can ... bring another tray.”

  They all looked at the loaded tray. It held a stack of empty plates, ornately decorated with the casino's logo, napkins cleverly folded to resemble blossoms, utensils and enough food for six humans. There was a basket of plump muffins oozing moonberries, covered dishes emitting savory steam, and a bowl of bright fruit.

  “I ordered plenty for the three of us,” Ilya said. She waved at the waiter. “You can go, thanks.”

  The waiter clasped his hands before him. “I'll be delighted to bring more food. Really.”

  “You can go now,” Ilya repeated. “Really.”

  His gaze shot to her. He nodded miserably and scurried out the door.

  “That is one weird little dude,” Ilya said, reaching for a plump moonberry muffin. “Hope he doesn't act that way with the customers.”

  “Name, Norn Sa,” Playa said, frowning at her tablet. “No work related problems noted in his seven months of service here. Perhaps he is just nervous to please the new CEO.”

  Sitting back in her chair, Ilya winced. Whoa, she was a little tender in certain areas. Remembering why, she took a huge bite of her muffin, wishing it were a certain enhanced human-cyborg's ass. She chewed hard, her mind on the way he'd left her.

  Then the flavor in her mouth made itself known with horrific force.

>   “Pahh!” Gagging, she spat the gummy mouthful of muffin into her palm and swigged hot tea from the mug in her other hand. This burned her tongue, but at least it rid her mouth of some of the horrible taste.

  “What is wrong?” Playa asked.

  Bek paused with a sweet roll half-way to his mouth.

  “Bitter.” Ilya shuddered clear to her toes and swigged more hot tea. “Quarking shit! Someone in the bakery mixed up their ingredients.”

  Bek sniffed his roll, then took a bit of icing on his fingertip and tasted it. He shrugged and nibbled a bite of the roll. Then he recoiled and spat it out. “Hells. Not just the muffins. Either it was a very big mistake in the bakery, or ...”

  He eyed Ilya. “I warned you that speech you gave would anger some here. Believe me now?”

  Ilya rose and tossed the offending muffin back on the tray. “I believe some little baker just bought him or herself a hovie-load of hurt.” She started for the door.

  Playa whisked her chair between Ilya and the door, her face troubled but determined. “Ma'am, wait.”

  “She's right,” Bek said. “If you go storming down to the galleys, you play his or her game—whoever did this.”

  “Yeah, only I'll win,” Ilya snarled. “I'm not putting up with this shit.”

  “Of course you are not,” Playa said. “This behavior toward our CEO cannot be tolerated. We simply need an alternative solution—something subtler.” She looked to Bek.

  He raised his brows. “What? You're implying I'm sneaky?”

  The woman's pale cheeks flushed. “Of course not, just that you are skilled in diplomacy. You will find a solution which unearths the culprit while placing Ms Mondas in a sympathetic light.”

  Bek gave Ilya an oblique look.

  “Bite me,” she retorted. “I'm not that bad.”

  His lips twitched. “No, ma'am.”

  “And I'm still hungry,” she scowled. The tea was churning in her empty belly.

  “I will order another breakfast,” Playa said. “In my name.”

  “No,” Ilya said, her eyes narrowed. “I've got another idea. We're gonna go eat in one of the dining rooms, in plain sight. And we're taking along a persuader. With him looming, our food won't be tampered with.”

  She used her com to bring up the link VX had given her. Setting her jaw, she waited.

  Someone answered, but it wasn’t VX.

  “Yes?” a woman said.

  Ilya’s lip curled. So there was a madam aboard the station.

  “I require VX again,” she said coldly. “At once. And tell him to wear clothing this time. We'll be going out into the public areas.”

  “I do not think—” the woman began.

  “You do not argue with me,” Ilya said through her teeth. “I need him for guard duty. If that hasn't been one of his duties, it is now.”

  She broke the link and took another swig of tea, wishing again it was spiked with something stronger. But she needed all her wits about her if she was going to get through the maze of this station—and she wasn't talking about the physical spaces.

  Bek and Playa were staring at her. She raised her brows at them.

  “So,” Playa said. “You find the, erm, services of the enhanced males useful?”

  “Oh, very,” Ilya drawled. “And since you just told me there're more than just VX, a bit later you two can fill me in on just what the hells they're doing here, and which one of you sent the big guy to me.”

  The two exchanged a look. Playa looked down, and Bek rocked back on his heels, giving Ilya a strange look.

  “Oh, and if you're worried about speaking openly in here,” she said, lifting a hand to indicate the big room, “Don't be. I swept it for surveillance. And whaddya know? I found spybots hidden in the decor.”

  “Did you disable them?” Bek asked, taking a step toward her.

  “Just scrambled for now,” she said, sliding a hand closer to the laser in her jacket pocket. “What'd you think, I was gonna leave them there so you could listen in on every word I say?”

  “They're not Bek's,” Playa said, her tone indignant.

  “Playa's right,” Bek said. He leaned toward Ilya, speaking quickly and quietly. “They're not ours. I will tell you more later. For now, I suggest that when you wish to be private here, play a holovid loop of yourself working at the desk. Also, say nothing in front of the 'borg.”

  “Fuck me,” she whispered. “VX is a spy too?” Along with his other duties.

  “Quite probably. They are made to do whatever is needed.”

  Ilya felt sick, and for a sec wondered if her tea was going to come back up. She swallowed hard, and then set her jaw. She should've known. Quark, she could see Haro and Qala rolling their eyes at her now for being so gullible.

  “Who does he spy for?” she demanded.

  Bek gave her another of those looks, as if he was speaking only under duress. “You might call it a ... shadow industry in this place. One that includes VX and others like him.”

  “Shit, this place is full of 'borgs?” A chill of horror ran up her spine. A squad of VX-900s operating in the shadows? “They've gotta be doing something more dangerous than whoring, or you two wouldn't be afraid to even speak of it.”

  “The Palace is not full of them,” Playa murmured, turning her tablet nervously in her fingers. “But there are at least ten—that we know of.”

  Ilya took a deep breath, and paced away from the desk and back. Okay, okay, she could use this. Let VX's masters—whoever the hells they were—think she was into having a personal sexbot, and that she was ready to talk openly in front of him.

  “Listen,” she said to the pair watching her. “I don't know who I can trust here, including you, but you're looking like allies, so I'll go with that for now. I'm not here to shut this place down, but I will if shit escalates. It's not like this quadrant of the galaxy needs a crooked casino.”

  “Why are you here?” Bek asked.

  Ilya scowled at him. “Just finished sharing that.”

  “Did you?” he asked, giving her a straight look.

  Gah, he was as bad as Joran Stark. Ilya turned away and paced across the room to the big desk, where she stroked a Serpentian fireglass piece, contorted into a weird arch. Realizing it was the representation of a penis and balls caught in some kind of vise, she snatched her hand away. Then she picked the piece up again, and marched over to toss it into the recycler shaft.

  She turned back to the waiting pair. “I've got my reasons. I shared some. If I learn I can trust you, I'll share the rest. For now, just know that I'm not Vadyal, I'm not anything like him, and I want no part of his slimy trades, except the legitimate business of this casino and hotel.'

  'I'm also in daily communication with Sheriff Stark. You've maybe heard of him and his brothers—Creed Forth, who has links to the Zhen Lau, and Logan Stark, who has links to everyone, including the top brass at the IGSF and the IBI. So anything happens to me, and they won't hesitate to take this place apart down to the tiniest fragments to find me.”

  And now she was just lying through her teeth, but since she'd luckily found the spybots here and in her bedchamber, these two wouldn't know that her daily coms were only with friends from Joran Stark's former band, and that if anything happened to her, he might just shrug and go on about his business, figuring she'd no doubt earned whatever befell her.

  But, the huge, quiet 'borg who'd just entered the room through his secret passageway had heard her words, so the message would reach whoever controlled him.

  Ilya tensed up the sec VX appeared—damn it, she could feel his presence, as if he gave off some strange charge. Hells, maybe he did, maybe he had some kind of tech in that helmet to enhance his pheromones, make him irresistible to females. Okay, that was just rezzed. He didn't need any further enhancement to attract attention.

  She didn't look at him yet—she needed a sec to get a grip on her humiliation and anger before she faced him. God, he'd played her like a stupid little immi. He could've at l
east told her before he fucked her that it was just a business transaction.

  Playa and Bek both looked dutifully impressed by her name-dropping. Then their gazes swung to VX. Playa looked even more impressed, and Bek half-scowled, half-smirked.

  Ilya walked to the tray, selected one of the muffins and wrapped it in a snowy napkin trimmed with gold. She glanced over at VX, ready to order him to follow her, and stopped in her tracks.

  “What the quark are you wearing?” she demanded. She scanned him head to toe, and shook her head. “No. Hells, no.”

  The huge cyborg's head was covered in the silver cerametal quarter helmet. But with it, he wore a black length of silk kilted up with a heavy belt over a black silky tee that clung faithfully to every bulge and hollow of muscle on his mighty arms and torso. His thighs were bare, but he wore high black boots. On his hands were fingerless leather mitts with studded straps across his knuckles. One blow from a hand, a knee or a foot would gouge skin and flesh, not to mention the force behind the blow might kill.

  Unfortunately, a look at him and everyone they met were going to be staring in dumb amazement, and not the good kind. His belt, his boots, even his fingerless mitts were also studded with so much heavy trim that the light glittered off of him, shards of silver dancing in her vision.

  They'd even fastened a weird glittering cockade on his helmet, like a cruel parody of the helmet her Var used to wear. It was this that sent Ilya over the edge of fury.

  She strode up to the huge man, scowling. “I am not walking around with a mountain of braid and beads following me.”

  Grasping a hank of braid on his belt, she yanked—hard. It came off easily, and underneath the gelglue was still damp, and peeled away with the braid.

  “Is this someone's idea of a joke? Or just more of Vadyal's bad taste?”

  VX didn't answer, but she didn't really expect him to. He was examining her with that dark, enigmatic gaze—remembering what they'd been up to last time they were this close? More likely deciding how to wrench her into tiny pieces with his huge hands. Well, he could try, but she'd laser him fast as he grabbed her.