She nodded. “Is that so bad?”
“Very admirable. If you can do it.” Ky moved to her again, fingers in her now-loose hair. “But you’re still lying.”
“About what?”
“Your motives. You are lying to me, and you’re lying to yourself. But if you want to save Shareem, sweetheart, let me show you what Shareem really are.”
Brianne’s heart thudded. “I know what you are. I was with you and Aiden on the train.”
Ky traced her cheek, his fingers light, but she could tell his gentleness was forced. “I was being nice to you because Aiden was there. He likes it when I’m nice.”
“Where is Aiden?” she asked nervously. “I thought you were a team.”
“I like to work alone on occasion. Like this one.”
“You came here to berate me.”
“No.” Ky’s fingers moved over her eyelids, down her cheek, across her lips. “I came here to teach you about Shareem. About level threes. Do you know the ancient saying, In for a penny, in for a pound? “
“I’ve heard it. I’m not certain what it really means.”
“Your adoring fans likely believe that you had an affair with a Shareem. So why not have one all the way? We gave you a taste; now really sink your teeth in.”
Brianne swallowed, her mouth suddenly much too dry. “Why do you want me to?”
“To show you what you’re trying to save.” Ky tilted her face up to him with strong fingers. “Halfhearted efforts will only make it worse for us. You need to know everything about who we are. You have to truly want to free us or walk away.”
She looked at him in puzzlement. “Why would you try to change my mind? Don’t you want to be free?”
His smile was feral. “I do, darling. But I want your efforts to be sincere. Are you willing to be my sub, Brianne? Are you willing to find out if this is really what you want?”
“To let you be … my master?”
Ky’s eyes flickered. “You know a little about it, do you?”
“I’ve been reading.”
“You’re precious, Brianne.”
She gave him a hard look. “I am a determined woman. You won’t break me that easily.”
Ky’s voice softened a notch. “I don’t want to break you, love. I want to educate you. Are you willing to let me teach you?”
He needed her permission to begin. Shareem were powerful, but their lady had to say they wanted it or they couldn’t touch her.
Well, Ky was certainly touching her. But he wouldn’t go forward without Brianne’s permission, and they both knew it.
Brianne wet her lips and met his gaze. “I’m willing,” she whispered. “What do you want me to do. Strip?”
Her heart raced as she said the word. The irises in Ky’s eyes widened, and his fingers warmed.
To her surprise, Ky chuckled. “No, I don’t want you to strip. I want you to dress for me.”
*** *** ***
Brianne’s confusion was adorable. She had no idea what Ky meant, little innocent. So he’d show her.
What they’d done on the train had been playtime, a little taste to scare her and punish her for getting Aiden arrested. Ky believed now that it hadn’t been her fault—the wheels of her office turned without her. Ky hadn’t gone full Dom on her because he’d sensed how inexperienced she was, but tonight would be a different story.
If Brianne wanted to save all the Shareem on Bor Narga because she felt guilty, well then Ky would let her know exactly who she was saving.
He didn’t believe she was sincere for one minute. She sat in her beautiful tower and worried about the downtrodden, but she’d never experienced what it was like out there in Pas City, underground.
Literally underground. The place he’d take her tonight existed ten stories below the streets, a secret playground collectively maintained by level-three Shareem as a place to let loose.
Ky instructed Brianne to dress in robes that would conceal her identity and to leave her bodyguards behind. In answer to her startled questions, Ky assured her she’d be perfectly protected from predators.
“Maybe,” Brianne said, giving in. “But who protects me from you?”
“Tonight, I take care of you, with your complete trust.”
“I see.”
Ky put his lips to her ear. “That’s what submissive means, love. Submitting yourself entirely to me.”
He nibbled her earlobe and Brianne squirmed. Ky barely stopped himself turning the nibbles into sharper bites. His level-three instincts made him want to be rough with her, but she was new to this.
For now …
“Will Aiden be coming with us?” she asked.
“No.”
“I see,” Brianne said again, sounding disappointed.
Of course she’d be disappointed. Aiden had that come here, baby, let me make you feel good attitude, and every woman he touched melted in pleasure. Ky melted in pleasure as well, and that was forbidden.
Forbidden.
Ky had a sudden flash of a white room, of himself lying naked on the floor, screams coming from his mouth. Across the room a red-haired Shareem with beautiful eyes watched in anguish. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were going to do this to us.
“Ky?”
Brianne touched his arm, and the vision splintered. Ky growled. He’d thought the damn memories would fade, but no. They were as clear today as they had been twenty years ago.
“We’re leaving.” Ky clamped his fingers around Brianne’s arm and dragged her from the room.
They left the compound by a hidden entrance to elude any reporters that might be sniffing around, and faded into crowds heading to the train station. Ky couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than Shareem, but Brianne wore the robes and face veils of a middle-class widow. She had robes like that lying about, Brianne told him, so she could wander the streets observing what went on in her city, and the people who needed to be helped, without anyone tumbling to the fact that she was Brianne d’Aroth.
He wanted to laugh. She was resourceful all right.
But Ky couldn’t yet forget that this woman—this rich bitch—had been the cause of him nearly losing Aiden forever.
Ky had wanted to punish her on the train, to make her feel the hurt and panic he’d felt. But she’d turned beautiful brown eyes up to him and said, “I’m sorry,” sincerity and innocence in every word.
Brianne had taken his punishment without flinching. She had spirit and guts. The pretty face had strength beneath it.
Ky had already forgiven her, but she didn’t need to know that. When Brianne had discovered their arrest, she’d leapt to help them. She could have left them in jail to rot, sent them to termination with a smile on her face.
But her distress had been real, and she’d bent over backwards to help them.
Mmm, bent over backwards. There’s a good thought.
They took the train to the back streets of Pas City and a store with a discreet custom-design shop in the basement. The man who ran the shop was a genius, living to create exquisitely sexy clothes for women. His clientele ranged from working-class women who were not ashamed of being Shareem followers to upper-class ladies indulging in private fantasies.
The man’s eyes lit up when he beheld Brianne’s figure, full in the breasts and hips, curved at the waist. While he checked his workroom for the best material to use, Ky picked out a mask that would both hide Brianne’s face and not be out of place where he would to take her.
The black velvet mask spread out in a butterfly shape across her eyes and down her cheeks. Ky fastened it securely under her hair with computerized clips that sealed it in place.
When the dressmaker returned, he asked Brianne to strip completely.
Ky smiled at Brianne’s sudden shyness, but the dressmaker only whipped out a scanner and ran it over Brianne’s naked body, clicking his tongue in approval at the measurements that turned out on his screen.
“Easy-peasy,” the man said. “I can outfit h
er right away in something lovely. I’m sure you’ll both like it.”
When the couturier turned away and excitedly entered his back room, Brianne reached for her robes.
“Keep them off.” Ky hid a grin when her eyes widened. “Please your master. From now on, you will either wear what I choose for you or be naked for my pleasure.”
Brianne hesitated, the robes in her hands. He could see thoughts warring in her eyes, curiosity and excitement about what he’d ask her to do coming up against the fact that Brianne d’Aroth didn’t take orders.
Ky waited for her decision. Would she throw on the robes and run back to her comfy and safe apartments? Or give in to temptation and entrust herself to him?
Slowly Brianne opened her hands and let the robes fall to the floor. Ky warmed as he looked over her lush body, bared for his delight. This was going to be good.
The couturier returned with a leather dress that was bright red, thin, and soft as silk. It fit Brianne perfectly.
The décolletage skimmed just above her nipples, lifting her breasts for a nice shadowy cleavage. The leather wrapped itself lovingly around her hips and emphasized the deep curve of her waist. The black high heels the couturier said would go excellently with it emphasized her long and sexy legs.
Ky rested his hand on her hip and drew her to his side. “Now, that’s perfection.”
Behind her mask Brianne’s eyes held a mixture of shyness and wonder. He sensed that she’d never tried to be sexy before, never thought of making herself into an object of desire. Ky hoped she was learning it was fun to be desired.
“Now for the finishing touch.” Ky signaled the couturier who smiled and returned with cuffs made of the same soft red leather.
The cuffs sported thin rings through which Ky could lace leather bonds—not now, but later when things grew more interesting. He wrapped the cuffs around the startled Brianne’s wrists, sealing them seamlessly.
Last was a collar of black leather that snapped around her slim neck. Ky couldn’t afford elaborate jeweled affairs like Calder could, but it was well made and bore a ruby-colored stone that rested at her throat. The collar also had a thin ring in the back, to which Ky clipped a leather leash.
“You look pretty,” Ky rumbled.
Brianne studied herself in the five-tiered mirror, staring in wonder. “I’m not sure pretty is the right word. I look strange.”
“You look drop-dead sexy. You’ll have every Shareem crawling to you with his tongue out, but you’re mine tonight.” Ky splayed his hand on her waist. “Remember that. If you go to any of them without my permission, it’s punishment time.”
“Go to them?” Brianne looked up in surprise. “Why would I?”
“The pheromones fly around something fierce where we’re going. You’ll find yourself thinking things and doing things before you can stop yourself. But you will stop. Or find me, and I’ll stop you.”
“Find you? I have the feeling I won’t want to leave your side.”
Ky nodded. “You’re catching on.”
Before they left, Brianne tried to pay the bill.
“Not tonight, sweetheart,” Ky said, hand on her wrist. “Tonight, I take care of you.”
“But this must have been expensive.”
Ky gave her a cold stare until she stilled, flushing. “You’re on your way to punishment, love.”
Brianne opened her mouth as though she would argue and then closed it. “All right. I agreed to do it your way tonight.”
Ky saw in her eyes that she would try to settle up with the couturier later. Upper-class ladies always wanted to pay at first, wanting to treat Shareem as their boy toys. They learned quickly just who was in charge, and in the end stopped trying to be in control.
Later, when the lady recovered, she would send her Shareem lavish gifts—or hide from him entirely, depending on what the experience did to her.
“Put it on your account?” the couturier said to Ky with a knowing wink.
“Please.”
And that was that.
Ky blindfolded Brianne before they reached their destination. “This is a private place,” he explained as he gently tied the black silk over her eyes. “I don’t want you sending your bodyguards down later to clear it out. We like it here.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” she said indignantly.
“You might. You think you’re open-minded and have a soft spot for Shareem, but we’ll see. Women react in all kinds of ways to what we’re going to do.” Ky paused. “You might even laugh. Some of the games get funny.”
“I feel ready for anything,” Brianne said.
“Sure, I believe you.”
“Just don’t let me trip. These heels are unbelievably high.”
“That’s because they’re not really for walking. Hang on to me and you’ll be fine.”
Brianne did hang on to him in a gratifying way. As they entered the underground play place for level-three Shareem she wrapped both arms around his waist and didn’t let go.
They plummeted down ten stories in a grav tube to the forgotten warehouse level threes had turned into a space to call their own. Here they brought their subs—one-night stands or more permanent lovers—for games and other interaction.
The place had public rooms and private, food and drink, and bedrooms for resting as well as play. Some rooms were dungeon-like, with racks for tying partners to, a selection of floggers, manacles and chains, swings and many choices of sexual toys. Other rooms were simple bedrooms or sitting rooms—you didn’t always need accoutrements to make sex good.
Level twos sometimes brought women here as part of their fun and games, but level twos didn’t take it as seriously as did level threes. Level twos might indulge their ladies in a bit of spanking or tie-me-up, but level threes looked upon bondage as an art form. Level twos laughed—level threes were dead serious.
A dozen other Shareem had already arrived by the time Ky and Brianne stepped out of the grav tube. Most of the ladies wore masks to protect their identities, though some of the lower-class women or those who said to hell with it went bare-faced.
Shareem pheromones already hung heavily in the air, and Ky could taste the growing excitement of the ladies. A Shareem in the street above could get a hard-on just walking by.
Ky felt Brianne sway against him as they moved through the rooms. The atmosphere would relax her inhibitions as the night passed. She had no need for fear here, because it was harmless.
Mostly.
Ky removed Brianne’s blindfold and tucked it into his pocket. With her face-covering mask and her dark hair cascading down her back, she looked very little like the cool, neatly coiffed woman who appeared on digitals. She looked like a woman ready for sexual play.
Ky was used to the place, but he heard Brianne’s intake of breath as they walked around. Many of the women wore a variation of Brianne’s dress, cut high in the hip and low in the breast. Most garments were leather of every color, from black to red, to bright yellow, to electric blue. Some ladies had chosen sheer fabrics instead, and one wore shimmering red silk that outlined every curve.
“She’s lucky she’s thin,” Brianne murmured.
All the women wore collars, from plain black leather strips to silver collars studded with jewels. Some women sported high stiletto heels like Brianne’s, some went barefoot. All had tethers attached to their collars, either hanging loose between their breasts or down their backs, or wrapped around the hand of a Shareem.
Ky knew all the Shareem here, some more than others, and a few had become good friends. It was nice to be able to talk freely about sex and techniques without having to worry that patrollers were listening.
The one thing they never discussed was DNAmo. Their experiences at the factory had ranged from minor indignities to horrific experiments, and no one wanted to compare notes. Lab rats, they’d called themselves, and they’d taken a tacit vow to not speak of it. The past stayed in the past.
Where it belongs, Ky told himself severely.
>
Braden arrived with not one but two young women in tow, their arms firmly around his waist. One wore leather and the other wore a body-hugging sarong of bright silk.
“Best friends,” Braden said as he and Ky met up in the middle of the common room. He didn’t bother to introduce them, and Ky didn’t introduce Brianne. Ladies here were anonymous unless they chose otherwise.
“Best friends who happen to have the same birthday,” Braden continued, grinning. “They’re giving each other a gift—me.”
Which wouldn’t dampen the man’s ego any. Ky refrained from making a smart-ass comment and ran his gaze over the two giggling women. They were cute, but he liked Brianne better.
Braden gave Brianne a penetrating glance. Ky figured Braden knew damn well who she was but was smart enough not to say anything.
“Care to join us?” Braden asked. The two women gave Ky a long once-over, as though concluding that two Shareem would be an even better gift than one.
Ky slid his hand to Brianne’s leather-covered backside. “She’s in training. Maybe next time.”
The two women looked disappointed, but Braden whispered something to them that made them brighten. With another grin, Braden sauntered away, a hand planted firmly on each woman’s ass.
“Does that happen often?” Brianne asked. “Being invited to join in?”
“All the time, sweetheart. Sometimes it’s one big orgy. Depends on how hot it gets in here. A sandstorm stuck us down here for two days once. That was interesting.”
She looked alarmed. “There isn’t likely to be a sandstorm tonight, is there?”
“I didn’t hear one forecast.” Ky leaned close to her. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have an orgy, and doesn’t mean I wouldn’t order you to join in.”
Brianne’s brown eyes widened, lashes brushing the mask. “You would do that?”
“If I was in the mood.”
She exhaled. “I don’t think I’m ready for an orgy.”
“Are you scared?” Ky let his fingers move to the crease in her backside. “Or are you going to trust me?”
“What if I said no, I don’t trust you?”
“Then I’d have failed. As a level three I take care of you and make sure no one else hurts you. If I think your greatest pleasure will come from you taking another Shareem, I’ll order you to do it.”
Tales of the Shareem, Volume 1 Page 45