by Mikala Ash
Janga claimed Mischa's mouth in a deep kiss as Murukan's pile driver thrusts rocked his mistress, pushing her deep into the mattress. As he fucked her, Murukan felt he was caught somehow within a dilemma and icy tendrils of guilt were playing at his chest. He loved Mischa and anything that threatened her was to be removed and removed swiftly. But there was something about Holly Barberossa that he found incredibly attractive. He would enjoy being close to her and this betrayal of Mischa, even if only in his thoughts, disturbed him.
Mischa's next orgasm brought Murukan back to the present. The walls of her pussy clutched at his shaft like a hungry animal and pushed him over the edge into that mindless state of pure ecstasy. He sank deeply into her as his cock erupted and flooded her with his hot come. He collapsed onto her and she clung to him as her insatiable sex milked his cock dry.
He rolled away and got off the bed. His position between Mischa's thighs was quickly filled by Janga. The randy slave put her mouth to Mischa's pussy, sucking his seed from her body while Mischa indulged herself by pulling Janga around so she straddled her and she could lick her slave's pussy. Murukan knew from experience that the two would be occupied with each for the next twenty minutes. He went to the bathroom, showered and dried himself, then ordered a meal for three from the kitchen.
On his return with the food he found the two beautiful women lying languidly in each other's arms.
"One day, my dear,” he heard Mischa whisper into Janga's ear, “I'll let Murukan come into your mouth, and you can share his sweet come with me."
He suppressed his laughter. He knew Janga would rather die than let him fill her mouth. She hated sucking his come out of Mischa's pussy; to get it direct would be the last straw.
"Murukan,” Mischa said, shifting her gaze to him. “I want you to cultivate a close friendship with our little reporter."
"And if she does not wish it?"
"Oh, she will, I think. I saw the way she looked at you. You'll be a plough between her thighs before you know it."
"It would be better to kill her before she becomes a problem,” Janga said. “I wouldn't trust his ability to keep her off the scent."
Mischa laughed. “Ordinarily I would agree. But Holly Barberossa is a special case. She has a great following here in Adana. She is the people's little heroine, their savor, their pin-up girl. To be linked to her death before the right moment will destroy our plans. The little knix saved herself by coming to confront me. Her death now would point directly to me, and I don't want that, not yet."
Murukan took a sip of wine and, satisfied it was safe, handed the cup to Mischa. “May I suggest we keep our enemy close,” he said. “I'll take her information on the exhibit, get her involved with us."
"Excellent idea. What do you think, Janga?"
"I think she will destroy us."
"Pessimism is an ugly trait, my dear."
"So is death."
* * * *
"Why are you following me?"
"To make sure you don't get yourself in any deeper trouble."
"I don't need protection."
Silas laughed. “Wanna bet?"
Holly turned away. “Leave me alone."
"Wait!” He grasped her by the wrist and swung her around. Before she knew it he had her in his arms and was kissing her, his lips firm and hard against her mouth, his tongue forcing its way inside...
Holly felt herself falling against his hard chest, the warmth of his body enveloping her. She groaned into his mouth. His strong protective arms wound tightly about her. She opened her lips, worked them against his...
No! She pushed him away and slapped his face. “Don't you ever touch me again."
He gazed at her, his eyes unblinking. “You want me,” he said simply. “Don't deny it. You kissed me back."
"Don't flatter yourself."
He opened his mouth, closed it again and then, in a measured voice said, “We can stand here bickering like school children or we can help each other. It would be better if we were on the same page."
"And what page is that?"
"That we want each other. We'll work more smoothly together if we both admitted it and..."
"And?"
"Do what comes naturally."
She laughed. “You need to seek professional advice about that growth on your ego. It's the size of an asteroid."
He studied her for a moment, his eyes awash with emotion. She could bear them no longer and glanced away. “Then at least let me keep you alive. There's something going on here that I don't like. You should really leave, but since you won't, I'll have to be your bodyguard."
"Don't be ridiculous."
Silas grasped her wrist again. She wrenched it back.
"Holly!” The booming voice startled them both. It was Mischa's slave. “Is this ... thing bothering you?"
With his hands balled into fists, Silas released her and turned to face the intruder. The slave was dressed in simple pantaloons and a loose fitting shirt belted at the waist which fell open to reveal a broad muscular chest.
"Um, no, it's all right,” she said. “Really. There's no reason for concern."
"This is none of your business, slave,” Silas spat, his voice full of venom.
Holly predicted violence and quickly stepped between them. “Listen, everything is okay. Now both of you leave me alone."
The slave glanced to her. “I was looking for you, Holly Barberossa."
Silas stepped between them. “What could you want with her?"
"None of your concern, thing.” He returned his gaze to Holly. “May I speak with you in private?"
"Well, I guess. Follow me. I'm heading for the Scavengers’ Guild office."
"What a coincidence. So am I."
"Holly, you can't be serious."
"Grow up, Silas. Go do some detecting or something."
"You're making a mistake,” he warned.
"A friend of yours?” the slave asked when they had rounded a corner.
"Sort of. I'm afraid I don't know your name."
"Murukan."
I need to think. I have to get away. Holly's head was awash with conflicting emotions. Lust had swept over her. Murukan's scent was intoxicating, just as Maxim's was ... “Well, thank you, Murukan. Now Silas is gone so you don't have to keep up the pretence of following me. I'll be fine."
"Oh, no, you misunderstand. I really am going to the ASGS office."
"Oh, who are you seeing?"
"Zweep Dollavera. I need to make some final arrangements for the exhibition."
"I see,” she said coldly.
"You are going to see Zweep as well?"
"Yes, but I don't have an appointment."
"Then permit me to allow you to go first."
"You're too kind."
"It would be my pleasure. Besides, I don't get a lot of time to myself, as you can imagine, so time spent in your presence will be a gift."
"You flatter me."
"Not inappropriately, I hope. It is the truth. I felt it when we met in Mischa's apartment. You are a beautiful woman."
He was leaning close, his breath hot upon her cheek. Holly felt her face flush and her nipples harden as a pulse of desire scuttled through her pussy just like it did whenever Maxim was near. His scent ... He must be Maxim! “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she managed.
"Forgive me."
"Changing the subject,” she said, trying to clear her mind of lusty thoughts. “What exactly is the exhibition? What is its theme?"
"Memories."
"I don't understand."
"It is a unique form of art."
The more she listened to his voice, the firm cadence, the tone, the less she wanted to hear. “The artist, Gahavian Saltz, is from the outer rim world of Jackal, a hellish place. Have you ever seen it?"
"I haven't even heard of it."
"Fire and ice. It's a big planet, almost two standard gravities at the surface. It keeps the same hemisphere toward its sun, so boiling rocks on one side and i
ce shelves on the other. Daily it is racked with planetary wide quakes and the atmosphere is in constant turmoil."
"Sounds charming. Why do people live there?"
"The duridium mines produce the purest ore in the galaxy. It's used in quantum drive fuel cells, so it is quite valuable. The inhabitants are some of the richest in the galaxy."
Duridium again. “I see.” No wonder Mischa had an interest there. There was money floating about. “And Saltz. Is he rich?"
"Oh no. He's from a worker family, his father an ex-slave I believe. He showed promise as an artist but could not continue as he had to work. Mischa took him from the mines and has sponsored him for the last two years."
"You admire your mistress, don't you?” The reflexive smile told her that he did.
"She saved my life. I owe her everything."
I'll remember that. “You said the exhibition concerns memories. How does he do that? What medium does he use?"
"Ah, this is what makes him unique. He uses cadaveries."
"What are they?"
"Living bodies."
"Now you have me confused. A cadaver is a dead body."
"On Jackal they have abused the language horrifically. These are animated bodies, alive but with no intelligence, and on Jackal they call them cadaveries. A play on words, I believe, that caught on."
"I still don't understand."
"An unfortunate side effect of duridium mining is that the radiation produced by the ore, together with the chemical properties of the surrounding rock, destroys brain function till the miners are just empty husks."
"But that's horrific!"
"They are barbarous people, I must admit."
"But what does Saltz do with these empty bodies?"
"He is a performance artist, and creates fabulously elaborate reproductions of everyday life on Jackal."
"It can't be legal, surely."
"He buys the cadaveries from their owners."
"They are slaves?"
"Oh yes. Couldn't do this with free citizens."
"That doesn't make it any less horrific."
"I do have a lot of sympathy for them, believe me."
"At least you have some human feelings."
"More than simple empathy,” he said. “You see, I was in an accident. I was disfigured and the trauma took away my memory. Mischa rescued me, rebuilt me and gave me a life I enjoy, but I had nothing to return."
With her heart thudding in her chest Holly took his arm and drew him close so she could look into his eyes and breathe in his scent. Lust enveloped her like a familiar blanket. “Do you have any memories at all?"
"None whatsoever. Mischa tells me I was found in a spacecraft wreck."
Holly couldn't help but glance at his left hand. The thumb was intact, but he did say Mischa had rebuilt him. “How long have you been with her?"
"Months."
"This can't be right,” she muttered and again suppressed the overwhelming conviction that this was Maxim. It was too good to be true, and in her experience, anything like that was too good. Though he was the right height, build and he carried himself in a similar way to Maxim, there was one problem. Surely I'd be able to tell without a doubt this was Maxim? “So your personality was retained, just not your memories."
"I suppose that is true."
Maybe Silas's caution was rubbing off. She decided once again to change the subject and give herself time to think. “Do the cadaveries retain their personalities?"
"I'm afraid not. They are empty husks."
"How terrible."
"It is. The illness has a sudden onset. One moment they are walking talking human beings, the next instant they fall to the ground, puppets without strings."
Holly tried to visualize the horror of it. “How does he reanimate them?"
"He has devised a collar that transmits a simple program directly into their cerebellum, the part of the brain that controls their balance and movement. This allows him to make them move and act, though very slowly, like the people they once were."
"It sounds grotesque."
"It is,” he agreed. “But they are, as Saltz says, for all intents and purposes already dead, and so deserve no special treatment."
"How would you like to become a puppet?"
"If I was aware, I'd hate it. I am very lucky Mischa gave me a life,” he said.
"Otherwise you could have ended up as a cadaverie?"
"Worse. I could have died."
"I'm not sure if there is much difference,” Holly said. “Come on. I want to see Zweep."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Seven
Silas stepped past Kasamee's taciturn bodyguard and made his way to the drinks cabinet. He was too furious to worry about etiquette.
"Make mine dry,” the judge said from the bed.
He gave her a quick glance, noted she was in a sheer negligee which hid absolutely nothing of her spectacular body. He tried to ignore his beast of a cock which had hardened in his pants and was demanding immediate release. He downed his drink, a Mendovian gis, and made another and then made hers. He carried it over to the bed and gave it to her.
She patted the bed. “You know, Silas, as bodyguards go, you would have to be the most inept one I've ever encountered. The idea is to be close to the one you are protecting, not let her go off with the enemy."
He bit back his response and downed his drink. The alcohol burned his throat and ate into his stomach. He was glad of it. He needed the pain to distract him.
She sipped her drink. “You do mix a good gis though.” She trailed a long fingernail along his jaw line to the corner of his mouth. “Poor Silas, rejection is never easy to take."
He drew her finger between his lips and bit it. She laughed and rolled away. The ever present and ever silent bodyguard took her glass from her and placed it on the drinks cabinet. “Does he have to be here?"
She laughed again and her amusement infuriated him. He wanted to fuck her, empty his anger out into her more than willing body. “Wait outside,” she ordered.
The guard nodded morosely and left the room.
Silas tossed his empty glass onto the floor in disgust.
"Don't be so hard on yourself,” she mocked. “It's all working out the way I intended."
He shot her a hard glance. “What do you mean?"
She started unbuttoning his shirt, her hot breath stirring his lust. “I wanted to draw them out and I have."
"Congratulations. I should be with her, not answering your summons like a paid lackey."
"Sssh,” she soothed. “Relax, take a deep breath. There, isn't that better?"
"No, it's fucking not!"
She threw her head back as she laughed. “Holly certainly is a firebrand, isn't she? She probably saved her own life by attacking Mischa so directly. The pirate wouldn't be stupid enough to hit her now. So, Mischa has done the obvious, keeping her enemy close by sending her very good looking slave to seduce the troublesome reporter."
Silas grasped her by the wrist. She winced in surprise. “If she's hurt I'll..."
"You'll what?” She mocked with a laugh. “Settle down. Don't fret. While Murukan is fucking her, she's as safe as a Bendragon Tic."
She disengaged her wrist and continued unbuttoning his shirt and then her deft fingers unzipped his pants. His cock sprang free. “Trust me, she's not for you. She's obsessed with her Maxim and no one stands a chance while that's the case. Not even Murukan, despite his physical attributes."
"I don't want her hurt."
"Of course not.” She stroked his throbbing cock. “Neither do I, believe me. She's my prime witness after all."
He stayed her hand. “Then get her out of Adana."
She stroked harder. “Not yet. I need evidence against Mischa. Otherwise the real conspirators will get away."
"Why wait? You already know it's Mischa."
"For all her power and glamour, Mischa is the instrument of bigger fish. By setting Murukan onto Holly, Mischa
is neutralizing the threat while they set whatever plans her bosses have in mind."
Kasamee pushed him back onto the bed, removed his shoes, tossed them to the floor and pulled away his pants. “You really have a nice cock, you know?"
She lowered her head to lick around the head and he groaned, pushing her down onto his cock. She gagged and when he released her she held position with him deeply embedded in her throat. So, she likes it rough.
She finally withdrew, her eyes glistening with tears. “Fuck me,” she ordered huskily.
"What do you intend to do with Holly?"
She tilted her head coquettishly. “Fuck me good and maybe I'll tell you."
"You fucking bitch, I'll fuck you all right!” He grabbed her shoulders and twisted her onto her back. She squealed in mock alarm and he half expected the bodyguard to rush in. But the nameless shadow remained outside. She laughed at Silas and made to shut her legs but he pushed them apart and without ceremony drove his cock into her wide open pussy.
She grunted at the suddenness of the intrusion but adjusted her hips on his second stroke to accommodate him. “Harder!” She stared up at him, goading him. “Harder, you prick!"
He growled and, after one more thrust which slapped his balls against her flesh, he gripped her cruelly by the hips and flung her away from him. She rolled away and he followed her. Getting off the bed and picking her up, he pushed her back against the wall. She flung her legs about his hips and clung about his neck with her arms. He drove into her, balancing her on his hips and against the wall. The sound of their flesh slapping together, the thumps against the wall, her grunts and his growls spurred him on to fuck her deep and hard.
Yet still she cried for him to fuck her harder and deeper. She came suddenly, her body tensing against his then when the spring broke she wrapped herself around him, her cunt walls squeezing his cock.
"No, you don't, you bitch.” Holding her steady against the wall with the weight of his body, he reached between them and, scooping her copious juices leaking from her cunt, smeared her puckered asshole. “You want it deep, do you?"
"Oh yes, yes, yes, yes!” Meeting only token resistance from her sphincter, he thrust a finger into her ass in time with the thrusts of his cock. She squealed as he pushed in another finger and then a third. With a single fluid motion he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, driving deep into her asshole.
