by Frost, E J
I pick a market on the edge of the Delta. Not just because it’s far away from my place, so there’s less chance of being tailed back, but also because it’s just a short walk from the Delta’s sex-shops. So while Kez decides on breakfast, I pick out what I need to make her a hot and sour. When a matcha pan, a container of mixed awril and seaberry and two bulbs of kopi susu make their way into the pouch of the tote-bot trailing us, I have to smile. My kitten and her sweet tooth.
I throw in a packet of smoked auro meat, since I like a little protein with my sucrose, and slot an octagon into the ‘bot to pay for the groceries. It follows us out to my trike and secretes a neat bundle into the seat storage compartment when I hold it open. I lock the trike back down and wait until the ‘bot returns to the market before holding my hand out to Kez.
She takes it and draws close. “I was going to pay for those.” She holds up a brightly patterned credit wand between two fingers.
I shrug. “You paid for the bugs.”
“True.” She rests her head against my shoulder and looks up at me. “I haven’t paid you for the run yet.”
“You’ll get around to it,” I say easily.
“You trust me?”
I slide my arm around her and lead her into the Delta. “No, you can’t add. But Gig’s a good kid. He won’t stiff me.”
She elbows me in the ribs. Chuckling, I lead her down the walkway and into the first sex-shop we come to.
I’m not a patron of the Delta’s sex-shops. If I’m paying for an hour of relief, I figure the price should be all-inclusive. So I don’t know anything about the shop we head into. They all look the same to me.
I quickly realize my error. The holos, clothes and toys on display make it clear that this store caters to an all-male clientele. Kez begins giggling as she inspects a collection of prosthetics than have to be for show. No human body could accommodate anything that big. Not in any opening. She runs a curious forefinger between the spikes on one dong as thick as my thigh. I drag her out before she finds something to replace me.
Three stores down the alley and we’ve seen all the paraphernalia the neo-vampire could desire for safe blood-play, six different kinds of hook-ups to the universal virtual-sex loop, and a place that seems to be more of a pet-store than a sex-shop, until I realize all the straps, harnesses and jeweled accouterments are for fucking Anryn, one of Kuseros’s species of large, predatory lizards, which I’m pretty sure is illegal in any system except the Vespers. Kez is laughing so hard by the time we leave the last shop she can barely walk. I drag her back to the first shop, despite the potential competition. Surely with equipment that large, they’ll sell lube.
They do. In bewildering variety. Although I’ve only slept with four other women, between slam and S.A.W.L., I’ve paid for plenty of sex. I thought my experience was fairly broad. But I cannot imagine the possible uses for saltpeter lube. Or the appeal of chemfire lube. Fortunately, a ‘bot appears and helps me sort through the array. While I’m considering possibilities, giggling behind me announces that Kez has returned to her examination of the huge studded dong.
“You’re gonna want somethin’ smaller than that, kitten.”
She sidles up behind me, puts her arms around my waist and whispers in my ear. “I don’t want anything but you.”
I select three bulbs of lube and hand them to the ‘bot. “Actually, you do.” I turn to examine the possibilities. I’d planned to use the lube myself, but faced with a truly massive – in every sense – selection of alternatives, I change my plans. “Pick one that’s no bigger than your two fingers together.”
Kez lifts an eyebrow. “Whyyyyy?”
I give her a tap on the ass. “Do as you’re told. No bigger than your two fingers. You might like one that moves.” There’s a fairly wide selection of those, too. From basic buzzy sticks to a four-D cavitating gel model, which just looks uncomfortable to me. But it’s not my ass it’s going in, so I leave Kez to make her choice, while I wander through the holos of naked blue, purple and silver-skinned men, to a corner of the shop where a small assortment of equipment has caught my eye.
This isn’t a bondage shop – and I’m too wary of what we might find in the other shops to go looking for one – so the selection is limited. When there’s more time, I’ll make a few toys of my own. But for now, for tonight, a paddle or two might come in handy, and there are quite a few of those to choose from. I pick a basic wide paddle and take it to the ‘bot.
Kez turns bright pink when she sees my purchases. Mutely, she slots her credit wand into the ‘bot. She blushes all the way back to my trike.
Chapter 30
We eat on the deck. In my hammock. Hot and sour is finger-food the way I make it. Crispy chunks of meat to dunk into the sauce. A big bowl of sticky pink rice and a pile of crunchy callfass leaves to roll it all up in. Bulbs of klee tea to wash it down. No booze tonight; we need to be sober for the run tomorrow. And I want to be completely focused when we get to dessert.
I spoon behind Kez on the hammock with the tray of food in front of us. I’ve thrown a thermoblanket over our legs to keep us warm in the cool evening. The hammock’s drawn taut on its hoverropes, so we don’t end up in a messy pile with the food. We get gloriously sticky anyway, particularly after I start hand-feeding my kitten.
I’m prepared for sticky. When we start doing more kissing than chewing, I shift the tray of food under the hammock and open my bag of tricks. It’s not quite as impressive as Kez’s backpack, but I’ve loaded it with wipes and towels – since I’m planning on plenty of stickiness tonight – as well as our purchases from the sex-shop. I pull out a handful of wipes and clean our hands and faces. When I finish Kez’s sticky little paws, she tucks them behind her head, stretches and smiles up into the deepening sky. “This is really nice.”
“Yeah, it’s not bad.” I’ve always enjoyed the deck. But having Kez here brings my enjoyment to a whole new level. “Where do you go to relax, kitten?”
I expect her to say the club she’s mentioned before, but she surprises me. The way my kitten often does.
“Up on our roof. I took up a couple of the thermal panels and made a space up there where I can spin poi or meditate, whatever.”
“Spin poi?”
“What we did on the beach.”
The fire-balls. I finish wiping my hands and stretch out next to her. “That was almost better than sex.”
“Wait, do that hand again.” Kez tips her chin at my left hand. That is the hand I was using to hold the hot peppers that went into our dinner. And I made sure to rub the fingers of that hand across her lips while we were kissing before we made it to the hammock. With a grin, I give it another wipe, then lick my thumb to show that I’ve gotten off all the capsicum. She nods and smiles up into the sky. “Well, if you liked it that much, we could head back to my place for a while. I usually spin for an hour before bed.”
“Dream on.” The only thing she’s doing before bed tonight is fucking. Lots of fucking. And maybe a little sunset-watching. I trace the curve of her forehead, nose, and lips. She looks up at me while I touch her. Eyes gleaming. “Hey, kitten.”
“Hey.”
“You in any hurry?” If she is, I’ll take care of her first. If she’s not, well, there are a few things I want to try before we get down to the nitty-gritty.
She shakes her head, rubbing her lips against my fingertip. “Can anyone hear us?”
“Doubt it.” There are other houses along the river, but none of them are particularly close. Yet another reason I chose this place. “Ain’t you more worried about anyone seein’ us?”
“Nope.” She grins, her full mischievous grin. Such a fucking turn-on. “I just want to be able to call you by your real name.” She pauses for a moment before saying it. “Hale. Hale Hale Hale.” She rolls it around on her tongue like she’s tasting it.
I like the way she says my name. I’ve never felt one way or another about my name – it was just something people called me – but now that
I’ve lost it, and reclaimed it again, it’s started to matter to me. “Sounds good when you say it, kitten.”
“I like saying it.” She wriggles down into the hammock, looking just far too pleased with herself. “I’ve never heard it before. Halemano. What does it mean?”
“Dunno. It’s from old Earth. That’s where my father’s family was from.” I shrug. “What I do know is what I get when you call me that.”
She shifts in the hammock so she can run her bare foot up the back of my leg. “You get something in return.”
“That’s right.”
She rolls to her side so we’re facing each other; looks up into my eyes. Her pupils have dilated so wide her eyes look solidly black. Huge, kitten eyes. “Name it. Anything.”
“Anything?” I ask slowly.
“Anything.” She runs her fingertips down between my pecs. “Anything you want to do . . . anything you want to try, I’ll do it.”
I lean in and kiss her. No woman – no one – has ever trusted me like my kitten does. “Roll over for me.” I drop my hand over the side of the hammock, find the bag and pull out the waist tie for my robe.
She rolls. Languorously. Stretching like the kitten she is. I catch her right wrist as she turns. Loop the tie around it, thread the tie through the hoverropes, and when she settles onto her front, knot the free end around her left wrist. I pull up the slack and tie a slip-knot, so her arms are held taut above her head but I can release them easily whenever I want.
“Now, since you’re not worried about bein’ seen, I think we should show off that very fine ass of yours.” I flip the blanket back, reach down and run my hand up her leg from calf to thigh, rucking up the soft fabric of the dress she put on before dinner against my wrist. When I reach the top of her thigh, I push the material up to her waist, baring her smooth, pale ass to the air. No undies. Naughty kitten. As I’m contemplating suitable punishment for her lack of underwear, she makes a muffled noise. I lift my eyes from that captivating view to check that she’s okay. She’s buried her face in the hammock, but I can see the flush spreading across the back of her neck. I chuckle, and the pink of her neck darkens to crimson.
“I doubt anyone’s truly watchin’, kitten,” I say to reassure her. “But if they are, let’s give ‘em a show.” I rub my hands over her ass. Feather my fingers across her pillow-soft skin. Her ass is covered with the lightest down, like perfectly ripe fruit. I bend over that sweet, sweet ass and set my teeth in it. Hard enough to make her yelp. Hard enough to leave an impression. I rub my palm over the mark and admire it for a moment before I reach into my bag again and bring out the toys.
I introduce the paddle, rubbing it over each cheek. While I’m prepping her for the blow, I ask, “Anyone ever spank you before, kitten?”
Her response is so muffled in the hammock I can’t hear it. I reach out, gently cup the back of her neck and roll her head to the side. “Try that again.”
“No,” she says. It’s almost a whimper. Her voice wasn’t that muffled in the hammock. She’s just having trouble talking. Anticipation is half the fun. “But I saw . . . I watched it once.”
“Tell me,” I say to distract her. I wait until her rib cage rises, drawing breath to speak, then I bring the paddle down hard on her ass.
She shrieks and jolts, rising off the hammock. The restraints on her wrists hold her in place. She pulls against them for a moment, resisting the pain, coming up onto her knees. Then she slumps into the hammock, gasping.
I rub my hand over the brilliant pink mark the paddle has left on her pale skin. Beautiful.
“Sorry, kitten, I couldn’t hear you, what was that?”
“I-I—” she stutters. I give her a second to start to regain her composure, then bring the paddle down hard on her unmarked cheek.
She howls, twisting wildly against the restraints. Scrabbling with her knees and feet before collapsing back into the hammock.
I rub my palms over her ass. Gently cup the pinkened skin. Listen to her breathing to make sure she’s okay. That the two blows haven’t been too much. She’s panting, gasping, but not crying. Not saying the safe-word. I reach under her and untwist her skirt, which has tangled while she’s been thrashing. Fold it gently over her back so her scar is covered. I don’t want her to be self-conscious about that now. I want her entire focus to be on what I’m doing to her. When her breathing begins to even out, I rub the paddle in a slow figure-eight over the sweet globes of her ass. “I’m waitin’, kitten.”
She arches her shoulders. Rubs her forehead against the hammock. “F-fuck, what?”
“Tell me what you saw.” I keep rubbing while I speak. Watch the flush begin to fade, leaving just the spatulate red marks that will darken into bruises, livid against her pale skin. Is there anything more beautiful than her marked ass?
“I, uh, I walked in on it at a party.” She snuffles. “T-there was a girl. She was tied up. And this guy was hitting the backs of her legs with a stick.”
Caning. I like the marks of spanking or paddling better, but I could make myself a cane, if that would turn my kitten on. “Backs of her legs, huh?” I ease a hand under her. Lift her hips onto my forearm. Her body arcs, perfectly exposing the tops of her thighs. I set the paddle aside for a moment to stroke the soft, vulnerable spot under each buttock. Press in with my fingers until her breath catches. Release and watch the four marks of my fingers blanche. “Didn’t they stop when you walked in on ‘em? Tell you to get out?”
“N-no. They let me stay and watch.”
“Did it turn you on, kitten?” I ask softly.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Is that what you imagined me doin’ to you? All those nights you were humpin’ my coat?”
She thrashes indignantly, but between the restraints and the arm I’ve got under her, she’s not going anywhere.
I pick up the paddle and rub it across the back of her thigh. “I didn’t hear an answer, kitten.”
“I, uh, oh God, please, Hale, don’t. I can’t – not again.”
Not the safe word. I tap her very lightly with the paddle. “No? I think you deserve at least one more for calling me that.”
“I, uh—”
I time it the same as before. Just as she draws breath. I bring the paddle down on the back of her thigh. She shrieks and bucks against my arm, against the restraints. So hard the whole hammock shakes. I didn’t hit her as hard as on the first two strokes; she’s got less padding on the back of her thighs. I don’t want her so bruised she can’t enjoy the rest of the night.
“And maybe one more for not answering me.” I rub the back of her other thigh with the paddle. She definitely needs symmetrical marks.
“No!” she wails, before I even raise the paddle. “No, no, no. That’s it. I can’t take any more.”
“One more.”
“No! Please, I can’t.” She twists against the restraints. “Please, Hale!”
“One more for me.” I press the paddle against the backs of her thighs. She’ll feel that in other places, too.
“No, no, no.” She tosses her head back and forth between her bound arms.
I set the paddle on top of her ass. Rub my fingers down between those sweet, firm globes. Her sex is like an arrowhead, pointing the way to the promised land. She’s so aroused her thighs glisten all the way to her knees. I tickle my fingers up and down her pouty, wet lips until she’s shuddering and rolling her hips against my arm. “Is this what you want, kitten?”
“Yes,” she moans.
“I might be inclined to give it to you. But you have to take one more stroke for me.”
“No, God. No, just, no.” She sobs dryly for a moment. Then her ass lifts and every muscle in her body clenches, locking against the pain. “Do it. Don’t talk to me about it. Just get it over with!”
“No, that’s not the way it works.” I withdraw my fingers. Pick up the paddle and give her a light tap across the juncture I’ve just been stroking. Smile at her gasp. “You have to ask for it
.”
She sags against my arm. “Fuck you!”
I give her another tap across her flared labia with the paddle. “Nicely.”
“No! I won’t. I won’t!”
“You will,” I say gently. Rub hard with the paddle. I’m loving this. I’ve never played with a woman like this before – although I’ve fantasized about it plenty – I never thought a woman would trust me enough to give herself over to me so completely. It’s such a turn-on I’m about to come in my pants.
She bucks and thrashes. Protests so vehemently her voice rises to a hiss I’ve never heard her make before. Like a furious cat. I keep coaxing her with light touches of the paddle. Soft taunts. She’s sobbing, her breath hitching, her body a tight arc between the restraints on her wrists and my arm pinioning her hips. I know this is harder for her than taking pain, although the paddling might be more painful than she expected. She has a stubborn, anti-authoritarian streak. She’s fine when she’s just surrendering control, but making her ask for it, forcing her to become complicit in her own submission, brings that anti-authoritarian streak right to the front. And that she’s put up a fight, drawn a line and resisted me, makes the battle, and her inevitable surrender, a thousand times sweeter.
Finally, she slumps into the hammock. Her hips are a dead weight across my arm. Her skin is sheened with sweat. I know what’s coming and it’s so exciting that it’s all I can do not to pull her ass into the air and fuck her. But I want that victory. That ultimate surrender. I rub two fingers up and down the crack of her ass, tickling and teasing. She shudders. Whispers something too low for me to make out the words.
“Loud enough that I can hear, kitten.”
She howls, defiant even in her surrender. “Please . . . give me one more!”
I lift her hips with my arm and bring the paddle down on the back of her thigh before her words have even faded from the air. She screams, coughs and sobs into her crossed arms. I drop the paddle into the bag and stroke her ass, feeling the wonderful heat of her flushed skin. Then I pull her back onto her knees, kneel behind her as I push my pants down and enter her. She’s so slippery I don’t even need to work myself in. Her body clenches around mine immediately. As soon as I enter her. She’s coming already, sobbing and gasping. I thrust deep to heighten her pleasure, ride the convulsions of her orgasm with hard strokes. Throw my head back and grit my teeth when my body starts to follow her. Just as I feel my balls clench, I reach down and squeeze the base of my cock.