The Jewel Thief

by Vanessa Cardui

  He stood at the entrance to the stall for a long time. She came up to her knees. The back of her neck itched; there was a burn there, from the welding, but she put that out of her mind and waited.

  He groaned again. "Hell," he said. "If I'm going to be a damn fool, I may as well enjoy it."

  Wasn’t any question what decision he’d come to this time. When she’d first woken up in his cabin, tied to his bed, seen the lust in his face as he’d turned it away—it’d been danger, and opportunity. She’d had to hold both in her mind while she dealt with him, poised to run or fight or whatever she had to do. There’d been no room in those calculations for her own lusts, for the lean muscles of his thighs or the dry humor in the set of his mouth. Not that those really mattered now either. He’d make the choices and she’d do what he wanted, only—it turned out that she wanted, too. She came forward, as far as the chain would let her, reaching for the bulge in Rain's trousers. "Please," she said.

  Rain got a length of rope from the side of the barn. He tied her wrists together, and then her ankles.

  "You were right," he said. "It's because you look better with your ankles tied together." He undid the buckles on his trousers, and she strained towards him, mouth and outstretched hands.

  Rain stepped forward. Seren took him, deep as she could, bobbed her head and licked, her bound-up hands cradling his balls.

  It didn't take long. As soon as he was in her mouth, he started thrusting deep and hard and fast. She wasn’t used to taking so much, but she did her best, gasping between thrusts, more eager than she could remember being. When he finished, she could feel the way he was trembling, the way all the muscles in his body tensed up at once. And he came hard; it shot into the back of her throat. She choked, swallowed, swallowed again.

  When he was done, he stepped back on unsteady legs, and there was a glazed look in his eyes. Seren settled back onto her knees, waiting for more instructions.

  "Might not have been the wrong choice, anyway," he said. "Sleep; we've got work to do tomorrow." The he stumbled out of the barn, back to the cabin.

  There was some straw left in the stall where Seren was tied. Not much, but enough to cushion her against the cold dirt. He'd said sleep, so she did.

  #

  The next morning, Seren woke up when Rain poured a bucket of cold water over her. It got her up fast, sputtering, and then she remembered. She got on her knees, eyes on his crotch. Maybe he'd let her?

  Instead he got the metal shears out and cut her chain from the bar, then untied her wrists and ankles. "C'mon," he said. "Up."

  Seren stood, waiting to be told what to do.

  He pulled on the chain. "Your pack is ready," he said, and led her outside, where there was a fuel tank with a pair of straps attached to it. Her boots were next to it, and a canteen, and a smaller bottle of oil.

  "Shoes on," said Rain. "Less appealing, but it's a long walk to wherever you crashed my flitter. Then the pack goes on your back. Canteen is for drinking from. And the bottle of oil . . . well, your mouth was fine, but there's nothing wrong with variety. And I'm not taking the chance of you getting pregnant."

  She’d do whatever he said, but a flush still rose to her skin. "Okay," she said, and started pulling on her boots. She was pretty sure that she'd be able to find the flitter—she'd used a compass, and cut blazes all the way back to Rain's cabin.

  The fuel tank was a little tricky to get on, then the canteen went over her shoulders, and then the bottle of oil went on a little strand that attached to her collar, so it hung between her breasts.

  Rain's pack wasn't as big or as unwieldy as the fuel tank, and he wore the rifle she'd stolen over his shoulder, carried a heavy stick in his other hand. Which he jabbed at her butt. "Go on," he said. "Get moving."

  Seren got her bearings and started walking. The fuel tank was far heavier than anything she'd carried from the wreck. There were biting flies and thorns and she was naked, and just about any time she tried to stop for a drink or to catch her breath, Rain's stick prodded her onward. They got to the downed flitter at around noon, and she was utterly, utterly exhausted.

  It hadn't been easy, finding her way back to a place she'd only been once, through a forest that was like nothing she knew, but Rain wasn't happy when they got there. "You left meat in the flitter," he said.

  "I brought back all I could? I thought you could—"

  "You left meat where they could smell it, but where they couldn't get at it.”

  It was down in a little clearing; he started prowling around, looking at branches, at patches of grass. Seren stood, keeping the fuel tank on, not sure what she should do. "Looks like there's only one left," he said. "But it's a garreller, a big one. Can't start work with something like that in the forest, and it's not going to come back until it sees a kill."

  "I'm sorry," said Seren. "I didn't know."

  "Yeah, well, great. That fixes things." Rain had been looking out at the forest, but then he looked at her, thinking something through.

  The bottle of oil was warm against Seren’s skin, and she stood straighter, steeled herself not to shy away from the appraising look in his eye. It wasn't sex that was on his mind now. Seren was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like whatever it was. But she'd do what he told her.

  Rain took the fuel tank off of her, laid it to the side of the flitter. Then he tied her arms together, behind her back, ran the chain from her collar through the knot, and attached the other end to a tree branch. "Look appetizing," he said. "And don't make sudden moves; you might spoil my shot."

  Then he climbed up another tree, leaving her alone in the clearing.

  She was ready to die if he told her to. But she couldn’t quite summon the calm she’d felt the night before, the indifference to her fate; it was hard to stand there, and wait for it. Every time there was a rustling in the bushes, she tried to move as far away from it as she could, every distant howl or screech made her jump. She knew that Rain was up in a tree. She knew which tree. But she couldn't see him, and she felt alone and exposed.

  It might have been easier if she’d been given some slack. There wasn't any way she could turn around or sit down. Her legs were trembling, ready to give out, and when she bent her knees too far, her shoulders and arms hurt worse.

  Seren stood, and hurt, and trembled, and waited. Then there was a rustling in the bushes that wasn't the breeze, or birds after berries. It took a moment for her eyes to resolve the shape—and then she saw it. A great, green head, furred, with eyes like plates and teeth like daggers. It was twitching, getting ready for a run at her.

  This wasn't like facing a gun, or trying to fly a flitter past a fortress patrol. This was an old, old terror, and there was nothing her will or mind could do to keep her from turning, to keep her feet from trying to send her running. She pulled mindlessly against her chain, trying to escape. There was a crack, a second crack, and something hit her in the back, so big and heavy it twisted her around. She collapsed on top of the thing, shivering uncontrollably against the coarse green fur of the massive bulk.

  It was already dead. That fact made it through her fear-crazed mind. It was dead. Rain had killed it. She tried to stand, but couldn't, her legs paralyzed by effort and fear.

  "And that's why you don't leave food where they can smell it but can't get at it," Rain said, coming down from the tree where he’d been hiding. "Damn fool."

  There was a thickness in his voice, and something else. Fear? Triumph? He pulled Seren to her feet, and this time she stood. He tore the bottle from her neck, and his hand, hard and oiled, pushed into her ass. And then he was there, pushing in hard, insistent, like that giant cat pushing through the forest.

  His hands were on her hips, pulling her back against him, her leg still trembling against the fur of the garreller. It hurt a little when he thrust into her, but not enough to matter. What mattered was that she was alive, she was useful. She had made a poor choice, and Rain had fixed it. She pushed back against him, moaned at the pressure on h
er thighs, inside of her.

  When he got close to finishing, Rain paused, his hands hard where she was soft; on the sides of her stomach, on her breasts, on her thighs. Then he was thrusting again, harder. He came inside of her, three, four heavy thrusts, every muscle tensing.

  He undid the knot holding her arms to the tree just as he finished, and she collapsed, falling down to lie next to the dead garreller.

  "You don't leave food where they can smell it," he said. "Damn thing scratched up the windows, left a hell of a dent in the cabin door."

  "I'm sorry," Seren gasped out. "I won't do it again."

  Rain snorted, shook his head. "Won't be having a chance," he said, and went back to work on the flitter. Gradually, Seren regained her breath, felt the feeling coming back to her legs.

  It would've been easier to walk, but Seren crawled to him on her knees, waiting for instructions, waiting for him to look at her.

  "What is it?" he said after a while, without turning his spark welder off or looking away from the broken wing-strut.

  "May I please come?" she asked. She hadn't known what she was going to say until she said it. She was sure she was blushing crimson, but he still wasn't looking at her.

  "What?"

  He knew what she meant. There had been a bitten-back smile in that what that was almost as good as a yes. But if he was pretending not to, she could explain. No room for games, he’d told her, the night before—but now it seemed he’d made some, and that was good. That was very good.

  "May I please be allowed to bring myself to orgasm?" said Seren.

  "Haven't said you couldn't," said Rain.

  "I know," said Seren. "But . . . please tell me that I can?"

  He doused the spark welder, turned to face her. "No," he said. "I don't care if you rub against a rock until you get off. But I'm not going to tell you that you can."

  She bowed her head. She hadn't been told to ask him, and he'd just said that he didn't care. But she'd wait until he said that she could. It seemed . . . it felt right. Maybe he would, maybe he never would. But she'd wait.

  Her hands were still tied behind her back, which made it awkward, but she lay down as close to Rain as possible, her legs curled up, and listened to the sound of him working, swearing at the damage that she'd done to his flitter. But he was trying to fix it; maybe it could be fixed.

  When she woke up, it was because Rain was pulling her along by the chain on her neck. She bounced along the dirt and rocks, trying to get to her feet. She didn't quite manage it before Rain pulled her up to the nose of the flitter, and started unhooking the cargo net.

  "Rain?"

  "I might trust you far enough to put my cock in your mouth, if the only way you'll eat is if I bring you food," he said. "But I'll be damned if you're going in the cockpit of a flitter. Step up."

  Seren stepped onto the cargo netting, and Rain cut her arms free. He pulled the net taut, lifting her off her feet and fixing her in place under the flitter's nose. Then he tightened the net another notch, looping the end of her chain around the loading hook. She could squirm a little bit, but not enough to move her arms from her sides.

  "Where are we going?"

  Either Rain didn't hear, or he didn't want to answer. "Hope for a smooth landing," he said, then jumped up into the cockpit.

  There was a creak and pop in the wing that hadn't been there when Seren had flown it, and the engines groaned getting off the ground. But they were up again.

  It was cold and loud and terrifying, but it was also . . . it felt like she was actually flying, not just being carried by a flitter. Like the wings were hers, like the ground below was moving because of her. Then Rain got a hair too close to a tall pine, and that illusion was gone. She was flying, but she didn't have control, and if Rain wanted to, or if he made a small mistake, she would die.

  The landing was like that, but more so. They stopped at Rain's cabin, but he didn't take her out; just hooked a hose to the tanks and started working a hand pump. Once the fuel started flowing, he came over to where Seren was still held firmly in place by the cargo net.

  He poured water from a canteen into her mouth, broke off a piece of bread, and fed it to her by hand. "Next stop is is a blackrock." He shook his head. "The reason I came out here, before I came to my senses. Best if you stay where you are for that."

  Tanks were full, and the flitter took off again, another cold, loud, and strangely exhilarating flight. The sun was setting when Rain put down near one of the long, dark stripes of exposed rock that she'd seen flying out of Tekeel. Near it, but not on it, even though it looked like an easier place to land a flitter than the brush he’d actually put down in.

  He came out of the cockpit looking grim, carrying his rifle. He looked at her, seemed to be considering something, then shrugged. "Try not to look too appetizing," he said, "and if I don't come back, hope that something hungry finds you sooner, rather than later."

  "Rain?" she asked, but he was gone, rifle in hand, pick and chisel at his belt.

  Then she was alone in the forest, completely unable to defend herself. He could've . . . Seren tried to find the calm that she'd had when she'd given herself to Rain, and couldn't. If he was there, maybe. But to face the forest in the dark, not even able to turn her head—it was hard as anything. And she didn't want to think about what would happen to her if anything happened to Rain.

  He came back at dawn, a long gray smudge along his cheek, and a grim look on his face. He checked behind him, then shrugged. "Be a while before they pick up the trail, anyway," he said. He gave Seren another drink, another few bites of bread. "And now on to Tekeel."

  She’d been so grateful to see him, so happy to take food from his hand. But this was something else. She tried to come up with a protest, something to say to change his mind, but he was already up in the cockpit. Tekeel was mostly Carephalans; she could face them, maybe. But there were people in Tekeel; there was a human legate and everything.

  It was one thing to be naked with a collar welded around her neck out in the forests. It was a different world, with different rules. But Tekeel was somewhere . . . it was real, and there'd be people there, and there was a good chance there'd be people there she knew. And it’d been more than five days, so if the Carephalans had figured out it was her, there wasn't going to be any bargaining with them. But it was what Rain had decided, so that was what they were doing.

  It wasn't an easy trip, and she was anything but happy when Rain put down in the Tekeel airstrip.

  Rain came down from the cockpit and released the net, and she fell to the dirt. He grabbed her chain and pulled her to her feet. She stood, unsteadily; her legs were numb, and without the insistent pull of the chain she would have fallen.

  "Human legation first, I think," said Rain.

  Seren followed, because Rain was leading, but she really didn't want to. He noticed that; before they left the airstrip, he turned and gave her a look. She shrank back, blushing.

  "Right," he said. "Look, we're going. Do you want a bag over your head or something?"

  "Yes?" said Seren. "Please?"

  Rain hesitated, then smiled. "No," he said. "If I'm going to be showing off what I've caught, you'll look your best." He took out a length of rope, lashed her wrists together, and attached the other end of the rope to her collar, leaving her with some slack, but not enough that she could hide her crotch with her hands. Then he took a rag and stuffed it in her mouth. "There," he said. "Better?"

  Seren gave a quick nod. She wasn't sure why it was better, but it was. Maybe because it made it look like she was less willing to go along with what was happening. Maybe because Rain said it made her look her best. Either way, they were going. Out of the airfield, where Rain paid his slip fee to a slack-jawed attendant, and out into the streets of Tekeel.

  There were humans there, and Carephalans; even the Carephalans stopped and stared at her, their long muzzles turning to follow her as she followed Rain. But the looks from the men. . . Seren had been stared at b
efore. She'd been stared at in a way that was meant to threaten rape. But it was different when she was naked and chained, her hands tied behind her back. It wasn't just a threat, it was a plausible, immediate threat. If it wasn't for the fact that Rain was on the other end of the chain, rifle over his shoulder and Seren's pistol at his belt, she would have been raped, there in the street.

  She walked with her back straight, head held high. She was what she was, and her chain was clipped to Rain's belt.

  The human legation was near the center of Tekeel. As Rain headed down the street, one of the shopkeepers came up to him. It was a stocky fellow who walked with a cane; his shop had been a possible target, before she'd gotten the lead on the bloodstones.

  "Anything else this time, Rain?" he asked.

  "Got a garreller hide on the flitter," he said. "Big one, but it's as is; not even scraped."

  The man gave a nod at Seren. "That for sale?

  Rain shook his head. "Got some business to settle with the legate, and then the Carephalans, and she's a part of it."

  "For rent, then?" he asked. "Been a while."

  "How much?" asked Rain.

  "Fifty for the garreller, twenty for a little while with her."

  "It's a big one, Thass," said Rain. "Seventy easy. And I need her at the legation, and I need to be there soon, so there's no time for a prolonged session. She'll suck for fifteen."

  Thass put his hand on Seren's cheek, and gave Rain a look like, may I?

  “Yeah, go ahead,” said Rain, and Thass tore out Seren’s gag. Then he put his thumb in her mouth, between her teeth and her cheek, pulled her cheek back.

  "Sixty and ten," he said. "And that's assuming that she knows how to suck."

  "She'll do fine," said Rain. "Tell you what; my flitter’s in bad shape; panels are scratched, there's a dent that needs repairs, maybe a new secondary strut. You fix it, fuel it up. If it goes over seventy, you give me the receipts and I'll cover it. But it'll probably be less; you'll probably get out for less than fifty."