Acquired Possession (The Machinery of Desire Book 1)

by Cari Silverwood

  At least she had that correct.

  He pulled the red ankle and wrist cuffs from the bag, then hesitated but also collected the red collar. He picked up the miniscule snow-gem flowers, a few coils of the soft cable, and walked past her. “Come. To our bed. Crawl.”

  There was no glass on the floor, so it was safe. He watched as she crawled. Was this proof of her loyalty? No.

  Humans were such a puzzle.

  Once she arrived on the bedding, he let her sit up on her knees then stood over her. “Do you know now why you’re doing this?”

  “Because you asked me to? Ahhh. That’s not what you want is it? No. I’m sorry.” Her voice squeaked at the end.

  “It’s okay. Shhh.” He stroked her hair. How did he teach her this? Given the opportunity, if she thought she might escape safely, he felt certain she would run again.

  She needed to have more than a need for him and the security he offered. She had to want to be with him, no matter the consequences.

  “Let’s just relax and watch the stars and fuck.”

  Her trembling smile said she was anxious. No wonder, after what he’d said.

  He found a bottle of Tind, the cheap Grounder liquor, and poured them both a glass, made her swallow hers. “Stand and strip off your dress.”

  When she pulled it over her head, revealing those full breasts, the nipples rising and changing from flat and soft to perked-up buttons as he watched, he knew this was the best answer, for now.

  Fucking solved most problems, temporarily.

  “Give me your wrists then turn around and face the window. The stars will be out there soon.”

  Dusk was falling and the sky was a chaotic explosion of darkness, mauve, and purple.

  He wrapped the lockable red cuffs on her wrists then squatted to wrap the others over her petite ankles. The collar he locked onto her neck last, sliding it around so the emblem of a small cogwheel showed to the front. Adorning her with the blood-concubine collar, forever, was his desire. If she would accept her nature.

  What was fated would be.

  “I’m going to decorate you with the twisted silver cable.” With the flat of his palm on her upper back, the warmth of her skin was under his hand. He loved how they were when together, and he accepted that he loved her. But he couldn’t take her as his blood concubine unless she accepted him as her master.

  “You’re going to sit still while I do what I want to do to you.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her breathing became ragged; her shoulders rose and fell.

  He pressed his lips to her hair.

  “I’ll give you a kiss for every time I’ve wanted you. A bite for every time you frustrated me.”

  “You counted, Sir?”

  The sirs were coming fast and furious now that he planned to fuck her. Amusing.

  “I did,” he lied.

  Upon lowering his head, he kissed all around where his hand lay. The tiny hairs on her skin arose, and she shivered, whimpering when he progressed to nipping her.

  “Mmm.” Emery inclined her neck, as if inviting more.

  “I like those small sounds you make. All of them make my dick hard.”

  Quietly done, but again she said, “Yes, Sir.”

  The stars were arriving, pale pinpricks in the sky, past her bowed head.

  He could simply fuck her, unbound.

  But, where was the fun in that.

  “Stand with your legs spread wide.”

  He picked up the first coil of soft, woven wire, let the bulk of it unravel to the floor, and began to twine it about her body.

  The first loop went under her breasts, the second went above, and he crossed them at her back then went up to a point on her collar. Not too tight; this was more because he wanted to embellish her. The two strands went between her legs, to either side of her cunt, making her labia look swollen enough to burst. He squatted to look then stayed there, licking her and taking bites of her cunt lips, pulling at them while he slowly finger fucked her, listening, smiling, at her moans.

  “Tell me if you get close to coming, if you don’t want to be whipped with the wire. Your rear needs some red stripes, to match the cuffs and collar.”

  He plunged two fingers into her. “Answer.”

  “Unh. Yes...Sir.” Her consonants were as mangled and messy as her pussy. “I heard you.”

  He’d bet her eyes had rolled back. She was swaying on her feet.

  “You’re getting my fingers so wet.” Then he licked her again – her cunt, her clit, bit around the outside of her thighs to hear her squeals, and bent her a little to tongue fuck her before moving around and devoting more time to her slippery little clit.

  When she moaned, “Stop, I’m going to come,” her ass and thigh muscles were jumping under his hand.

  He upended her so she was face down in the bedding then linked her wrist cuffs to wire that circled her at the waist, so she had to be on her knees with her ass up and out where he could see and have easy access.

  “Just how I like you.”

  He stripped then inserted his cock full depth in her cunt in one rough slide. Her gasp and the wrench of her hands, as she tested where they were caught at her sides, made him pause. He leaned over her back, licked her there, once. “Keep struggling to get loose. I like that, girl.”

  Plowing her so she slid along the bedding had him close to coming too. The accuator was in the bag.

  “Stay there.” He slapped her ass a few times, leaving handprints, then sauntered to the bag, walking backward a while just to take in the sight of her lying there trapped, her face to the side and buried in the bedding.

  When he returned, her gaze zeroed in on the accuator.

  “You like this? Wait until I make you come twenty times. Then it might get old.”

  “Doubt that,” she whispered, huskily, muffled by cloth, but her one visible eye bright and watching him.

  A challenge? “This will be interesting.” He switched on the accuator and let the crackling purple glow play over her butt. “Where first?”

  Then he slowly insinuated it into her asshole while also sneaking the tip of his cock into her. The logistics meant he couldn’t go in far without thrusting the device inside her deep enough to disappear. Her small grunts as he slid both in made him feel malevolent. He turned the dial up to maximum and murmured, “You can come.”

  It was enough to make her scream, and writhe, then climax, in short order.

  He pulled out just in time to stop himself coming, left her lying on her side panting, with her eyes shut.

  Cleaning the accuator took a few seconds with soap and a bucket of cold water.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have begun in her ass.

  The water had made the thing ice-cold. Which only gave him ideas.

  He strode back to her and unlinked her cuffs from the waist cable, dragged her to her feet and pressed her against the cold glass of the window, to slow fuck her cunt from behind. Her curses and screams were likely because of the coldness of the glass on her tits and stomach at first, until he began a routine – pulling her off the glass for a few seconds to jam the buzzing device into her clit while keeping up his slow thrusts. When she came, her hands squeaked on the glass as she clawed there, humping the accuator and pushing back onto his cock.

  He gave her a proper taste of him, facefucking her before he bent her backward over a pile of bedding with his hand on her throat. The purple energy did its usual trick and climbed along the metal whenever he touched the wires between her legs. That would be partly painful, partly orgasmic. He made her come again. Her wriggling against his hand, her pretty moaning, the sight of her wrapped in the wire with her breasts bulging as he held her down, as she squealed and carried on as if her orgasm was actually painful...it kept his cock hard.

  The sweat was pouring off her by then and she crawled away then raised herself on trembling hands and knees.

  “That thing is evil,” she slurred. Her eyes were red, her face flushed. Her mouth still bore the eviden
ce of having sucked on his cock.

  “But the best sort of evil.” He waggled it. “Not done yet.”

  “Oh, fuck no... Sir.” The last was added hurriedly when he raised an eyebrow. “You’ll wear it out.”

  That was doubtful.

  He flopped onto the bedding beside her, still holding the accuator. “Come here. Lie on me and I’ll warm you.”

  Though she eyed the accuator as if it might bite her, Emery obeyed. When her freezing skin made contact with his, he cursed. “You’re still cold!”

  She giggled. “Your fault.”

  “Mmm.”

  Once she’d warmed up somewhat, he kissed her mouth then rolled her over until she lay under him. “Just this once, I’m going to fuck you normally.”

  “Normal? You know normal?” Her skepticism was obvious.

  “Not sure. Let’s see.”

  Then he found her entrance and pushed inside, feeling as if this was the first time with a virgin who’d never been had before. The accuator had made her extremely wet but also tight and tense. Her cunt clamped onto his cock in minor spasms as he went deep, then deeper still until his balls touched between her legs.

  He increased the force of his thrusts, banging into her. Head flung back, she shifted back and forth in the bedding. Her bright red hair spread over the pale cloth like a minor explosion of a sun, her lips were moistened by her drool as well as some pre-cum that’d escaped as he pulled out. He fucked her slow and hard, quiet then forceful, ramming in so as to make her do that cute sexy throaty gasp...and all the while he was wondering how he’d survive without her.

  Because he’d decided, sometime in the middle of this anarchic fuck, that he couldn’t keep her.

  He was never going to be sure of her dedication and loyalty, and he didn’t want her as a service slave – that would be a constant reminder of what they might’ve had. He’d have to sell her. And there was another disgusting obstacle. He couldn’t imagine selling her to another man.

  For the last few thrusts, he abandoned normal and held her hands above her head in a punishing grip. It let him see her eyes better as he came.

  Then he kissed her softly, kissing away the sweat.

  JI. He’d forgotten.

  “What is it?” She searched his face. “You look worried, and after that, wow, I don’t know what you’re worried about.”

  “I promised JI I’d look after you.”

  “Oh.” Her forehead creased. “You did? That was what that was about? When you shooed me away?”

  “Yes, and more.”

  He lay down and pulled her into him. “Let’s look at the stars. Nowhere gets the sky as clear and pretty as up here.”

  In this pure mountain light, she looked more desirable, and wasn’t that ironic.

  How could he look after her if he sold her?

  “The wire?” she asked softly. “I’ll have bruises.”

  “Soon. Bruises are good.”

  “Mmm. Some can be.”

  She’d decided that, had she? She was so close to being his perfect slave.

  He wasn’t going to again ask Emery why she wanted to be his, because her reluctance to lie was a part of her, and pushing might make her violate her pact with herself. He loved her more for not lying. Again, irony. Her truthful answer was why he must lose her.

  Chapter 43

  Though she’d asked to have it removed, the snugger the soft wire ran around her torso and breasts, the safer she felt. It was as if the wire was a symbol of Mako’s possession.

  Which, really, it was.

  With every sigh of contentment, she sank deeper into the floating time between wakefulness and sleep. Thoughts ceased to buzz, though her heart continued to beat. The lub dub was as soothing as his breath in her hair, his body behind her, and the wire.

  She was beginning to see the appeal of being owned by a man such as this when he truly cared for her.

  The bulge of her breasts about the wire harness captivated her. The twin strands between her legs were an even stranger sensation. Her wrists, ankles, throat, were still in his cuffs and collar.

  When his arms tightened on her, she wondered if she would sink into him, if she could merge and never come up for air. Leaving his arms to clean up would be the direst fate. The water was probably going to be cold.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, unwilling to be drawn, replaying in her mind the shunt of his cock inside her, the swell as he pushed aside her flesh, the crushing from the wire, the pain, the many ways he’d made love to her, the mind-blowing buzz and blaze of the device.

  Maybe she could do this after all. Be a slave to him. Loyal. True. What would that be like? It wouldn’t be like it had been in House Oren.

  A few of the brilliant red, snow gems had fallen to the bedding and been squashed. She picked them up and twirled the stems. “Why’d you pick these?”

  “I was going to scatter them over you, poetically, while I fucked you.” He kissed her nape, her shoulder. “Forgot in the frenzy of making you come a million times.”

  “A million?” She snorted quietly. “You are a poet. They’re lovely. Whenever I see this red, it’ll remind me of here, now.”

  “They make me think of your hair, and they match the cuffs and the collar.” He stroked the edge of her neck where it met the collar. “If only I could leave these on you.”

  “Do we have to get up yet?” She yawned. “Maybe we can rest before cleaning. So tired.”

  “No.”

  Then her eyelids drifted shut, opened, closed again. She couldn’t manage to open them after that.

  By the time she woke, it was morning and she was dying to pee. The room was growing colder again. Mako chided her and had her dress in her pants, shirt and coat, saying she could clean up and put on her dress in the Ramm. They packed quickly and left the house, running across the snow then waiting for the door to zip open while the wind turned their skin to ice.

  She never did see where he’d found the snow gems and was only left with a handful of the wilted stems and bright blossoms. As the Ramm poured on the power and rose above this now deserted house in a location that perhaps no one else would ever find, she wished she could stay.

  So much wishing, so little result. They flew away, and the engine blasted huge plumes of snow off the mountain peak. The Ramm curved across the sky and she watched the airborne snow drift silently toward the land miles below.

  With the Ramm going at full speed, the Swathe was a day of flight away. Tracking her and JI had taken all of Mako’s patience. He’d stalked them for weeks, waiting for the moment to strike.

  Now he had her, and JI was far away, making his own, novel path through this world. She prayed he would survive and flourish.

  And her destiny? She was headed for the Swathe as Mako’s slave, yet dread had nestled in her stomach. Something bad was about to happen. Something worse than the day she first arrived on Aerthe or the day he took her to House Oren.

  “Will we be safe at the Swathe?” she asked.

  “You will be. Me, I plan to take a risk for a greater goal.”

  That scared her. If he failed, surely she would go down with him? She feared for Mako’s safety, and how could she be safe if she was by his side?

  Obvious. He doubted her and didn’t intend her to be with him. There were ominous overtones in that conclusion.

  The Ramm kicked in with a high-powered burn, and their acceleration swept them into a speed she’d not seen before. The dawn landscape swept by so fast the plants and animals blurred. Her body was pressed into the seat, making a deep indentation in the padding, until the speed stabilized and her chest could rise easily again.

  “I’m going to be flying fast and low over some of the bigger Scav encampments on this route. Some of those have rockets that could reach us if I dawdle. You’ll have to make the meals and bring them to me here, though I don’t plan on eating much today.”

  Mako lightly rested his hands on the control panel before him, adjusti
ng dials, scanning read-outs. Changing indicators on the dash lent a flickering multi-colored glare to the ceiling above him, to the hard planes of his face, to his hair. She’d run her fingers through his gray-flecked dark hair only an hour ago, and he might never let her do that again.

  The poignancy in that thought said everything. Her doubts destroyed the last of the buzz remaining from last night’s lovemaking.

  “I read a final file early this morning. Something is happening that is time sensitive.”

  “I see.” She would tell him, soon. Once they reached the Swathe, she would tell him she wished to be his slave, with all her heart. It was for the best.

  It had to be.

  She refused to regret this.

  Do it, Emery. To hell with being a kick-ass chick on this decaying world. That will only lead to a lonely death.

  Now, while it was just the two of them.

  Her stomach, jazzed up on nerves, refused to let her. Such a final step. She’d be giving in, completely, losing herself to him. Or so it felt. A little longer and she’d have her courage.

  * * * * *

  It wasn’t until they neared the Swathe, until the ships could be discerned in the radar-like detector as well as seen through the glass, that he spoke to her and told her more of his plans.

  Even then he refused to look at her. Instead he stared at the dash or through the glass, anywhere but at her.

  “The Gathering is soon. The others meet us at the site.”

  What others? But she dared not interrupt in case he halted then said nothing else. She had to know why he was suddenly cold and distant.

  “At the Gathering the kings-in-waiting will be announced. There are always two from each Swathe. The Governance and the king select those.”

  “In-waiting?” That’d blurted out before she thought to stop herself, so nonplussed by the term was she.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Those we’d call princes. Princes inherit the title. They are sons of the king. There must be something lost in the translation.”

  “Well, in a way these are inherited. The kings-in-waiting are genetically related to the king and usually are his children. The files I read show evidence of an assassination plot against the king. It’s a plan to preempt the passing over of the title. That happens when the king dies.”