Agony/Ecstasy: Original Stories of Agonizing Pleasure/Exquisite Pain

by Litte, Jane

  He grunted again as a few stray drops hit his shaft, his stomach tensing and cracking some of the cooled lines of wax. To her never-ending amusement, his half-erect flesh stiffened. Scorch him with wax on his chest, he deflated. But torment his manhood, and it aroused him. She let it pass; he had earned this pleasure thanks to the recent victory.

  “You will pass word down the line that the Ai-an nation will respect the gods and goddesses of the people who join our ranks. That includes their holy rituals and festival days.” She scattered a few more drops up by his collarbone, making him flinch.

  “But . . .”

  Charlisse righted the candle, letting more wax pool. She didn’t change the low volume of her voice—it wasn’t necessary to shout when exercising her control—but she did sharpen her tone. “But, what?”

  “Mistress, I do not understand,” Ai-kan managed, panting to control his pain. “I know . . . I know you want them to keep their gods, but . . . shouldn’t Talwah be worshipped over all? Her holy days should take precedence! I don’t protest my punishment. I just . . . don’t understand.”

  About to pour more beeswax on him, Charlisse relented. A puff of air blew out the wick. Acrid, honey-scented smoke curled up. Shifting away from him, she returned it to its cast-bronze stand, then came back. His dark brown eyes, framed by those long black lashes, flicked her face in a questioning look before returning to the carpet-strewn ground.

  “I don’t understand, either,” she confessed quietly. “But Talwah sees the needs of the world in a degree of detail that not even I can comprehend. All we can do is comply . . . and She wishes Her sister goddess to be equally revered. As well as all others. You will comply?”

  “Yes, Mistress, of course.” His capitulation was not forced.

  She nodded. “Then you have borne your punishment for today. You may remove the wax.”

  For a moment, he looked like he would question her, ask if this was all she intended to do. Instead, he sat up and began picking off the cooled wax. It clung to his skin in places, and everywhere it had touched, it had left a reddish mark. Charlisse busied herself by turning her chair from facing her writing table to facing into the rest of the tent. She adjusted the cushions just so, then returned to stand in front of Ai-kan, one foot extended, just as he finished scraping off the last curl of wax.

  Without prompting, he prostrated himself, kissing the top of her foot. Kissing her toes. Licking them. Charlisse shifted her left, planting her sole on top of his head. Lightly pressing his cheek into the carpet, she asked, “Who rules the Ai-an nation?”

  “I do, Mistress.”

  “And who rules you?”

  “You do, Mistress,” he swore.

  Pleased, she untied the straps of her robe, letting it fall to the ground. With his eyes on her, bright and hot with desire, Charlisse retreated to her chair and seated herself. Like the plants and the statue of Talwah in her portable garden, it was a luxury not normally associated with a war camp. It rivaled the comforts of his traveling throne, being broad-seated, ornately carved, and comfortably strewn with brocaded linen cushions. Settling back, she lifted her legs one at a time, hooking her knees over the armrests. His eyes widened as he watched her, and she allowed herself a small smile.

  “Worship me, Ai-kan.”

  Crawling forward, almost stalking on hands and knees, he moved as graceful as a mountain cat. His lips saluted her left foot, then his whole face nuzzled it. Nipping softly, he worked his way up the inside of her calf, nuzzling and kissing and licking. A soft breath escaped her as he crossed the sensitive flesh of her knee.

  It morphed into a moan as he nibbled on her inner thigh, then another sigh as he abandoned her left leg in favor of her right, once again starting down by her toes. They knew each other so well; she permitted him this tiny bit of control so that he could arouse her, awakening the needs within her body, mind, and soul. Awakening the connection between her and her Goddess, though he rarely asked for such things lately. Formally, perhaps, but not in moments like this.

  Requested or not, the moment his breath feathered over her nether curls, she could feel the Goddess of Need seeping into her senses. Eyes closed, Charlisse rested her head on the back of her chair, giving herself up to the sweep of his tongue. And when his mouth latched on and suckled strongly, her inner sight opened wide. Words gasped out of her.

  “Oh, Goddess—yes! I see . . . a mountain pass! . . . An army marching . . . too small to be yours . . . They . . . they march up into the hills! They . . . oh, gods, yessss . . . go to join the troops in Alescens, but . . . ohhhh, lick lick lick.” She moaned, hands shifting to the back of his head. She gripped his hair, tugging in that way she knew he liked, rewarding him for his efforts. “Ah—yes! If you send diplomats to the people of Alescens . . . ohhhhh, Goddess!”

  “Mmm?” he inquired when she panted instead of continuing.

  Charlisse groaned, not quite there yet. The control, the power, the deep care she took when she oversaw his needs, all of it stimulated her as much as it did him, but she needed more. She felt his hands caress her thighs and moaned again. Her encouragement slipped his fingers up her belly, up to her breasts, where he tweaked her nipples.

  In her shocked moment of freefall, a corner of her mind knew she would have to punish him later for such a liberty, but then she fell, soaring with a shout of pleasure. The little hint of pain was perfect.

  “Goddess! Diplomacy . . . oh gods . . . will prevail! I see the armies joining to attack Alescens’ neighbors to the . . . the south and west! Easier victories than if you marched north! Ohhh, Goddess! Claim the southwest, and the northwest will weaken!”

  The vision ended, lost in the passion shuddering through her body, disrupting her mind. Ai-kan gentled his touches, stroking to soothe instead of incite. Panting, she subsided, slumping in the chair. It wasn’t necessary for her to climax in order to have a vision, but where this one particular supplicant was concerned, her Goddess was quite generous in meeting Charlisse’s own needs.

  Face hot and damp with sweat, muscles tense with need, Ai-kan rested his forehead against her belly. “Have I pleased you, Mistress?”

  A smile curved her lips. “Yes . . . Yes, you have. You may now address me by name . . . my Ai-kan.”

  “My Charlisse.” Her name was a whisper of devotion. Of love. Shifting close, he scooped her up and gained his feet. He kissed her and carried her to the bed, where he laid her on the thick, feather-stuffed mattress. When he joined her, she looped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, welcoming him into her body.

  “I saw something else, you know,” she murmured, smiling up at him.

  Delving slowly into her depths, Ai-kan gave her a puzzled look. “You did?”

  “A child. Conceived at some point within the next turning of Sister Moon,” she added as he stilled.

  Ai-kan blinked. “An heir? Then we should be married. You cannot refuse me now.”

  Charlisse shook her head. She covered his lips with two of her fingers, silencing his protest. “We can wed if you like, but she will be my heir. Another Seer of the Gods. Your heir must be as I have told you. Selected from among the strongest, wisest, most capable mages of the land. Examine both the male and the female, but choose those who can craft and cast spells. Mages can be bound by their powers to serve the people . . . as you do so well, my Emperor.”

  “Your love,” he corrected, moving again. Filling her in a slow rhythm, he tasted the corners of her mouth. “Let the rest of the world call me Emperor of Ai-an. First and foremost, I am your love . . . then your servant . . . and only last an emperor.”

  “Mm, yessss,” she agreed, and nipped at his lips, tugging on his hair. Even in moments like this, where they were once again more or less equals, she still preferred to assert herself. Her tugs demanded a faster pace than the slow lovemaking he had started in this, their bed. “Morrrre . . .”

  Only to her did he bow and acquiesce, giving in to her every demand. The wooden frame creaked a
s he thrust harder, each stroke giving both of them greater pleasure. She permitted it because he had indeed pleased her.

  This time.

  CAGED

  J.K. COI

  One

  “I didn’t think you were going to come this week.”

  Nora touched her free hand to the stun gun at her waist, calibrated to her specific DNA pattern, and ignored the dark humor in that rumbled voice. She listened for the snick of the lock latching behind her before continuing forward. Only one small circle of fractured light shone to the floor from the bulb set near the back of the cell, behind a steel-grated fixture in the rock ceiling above. There was no furniture. The wolf didn’t even warrant a cot for sleeping.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she replied to the oppressive gloom at large.

  A chuckle. The sound bouncing off the walls of the cavern, penetrating her clothing and gear until it felt as if he touched her overly sensitive skin. “What else would I do with my Tuesdays?”

  She snorted. She didn’t come every Tuesday, not often enough that he should have been expecting her. Some weeks she was able to resist, holding out until at least Wednesday or Thursday. And during the week of a full moon, she didn’t come at all . . . at least she never had before. “How do you even know what day of the week it is in this place?”

  He didn’t respond right away. A few months ago she might have thought his refusal to answer her questions meant he was pouting over his lost freedom, but now she knew better. Pouting wasn’t his style. Not when he could lie, manipulate, or simply tear things apart trying to get what he wanted.

  Instinct told her he was on the move, circling, but damned if Nora could hear even the softest shuffle of his feet over the dirt floor.

  No, the wolf didn’t pout and he hadn’t given in to the impossible reality of his incarceration, despite six inches of specially treated corundum lining the walls of his underground cell and the digitally monitored locks keeping him inside it these last six months. To him these were only puzzles to be solved, just as she was no doubt a piece he would try to play at the right moment. Nora recognized and accepted this because she had been using him too—if for a different purpose—and because she never forgot, not for a moment, what he was capable of.

  “It quickly becomes second nature to keep track of the days and nights when so much turns on the phases of the moon,” he finally said. His voice was now coming from behind her. The bastard had slipped past her in the dark.

  Well, she was used to that. She was used to all the wolf’s tricks now.

  She found herself turning toward that voice. Despite the reasons why she shouldn’t, why it was dangerous. Admitting that the danger was part of what drove her. “But if you can’t see the moon, or feel its glow on your face . . .”

  “Ha. If only that made any real difference in the grand scheme . . .” His words trailed off and she lost his position as the darkness swallowed him up again.

  Angry, she made a fist at her side. The morose turn of his mood probably meant his meds had been increased, most likely in an attempt to keep him manageable during the full moon. If those useless doctors had drugged him so much his performance suffered, they were going to regret it, and she was doubly glad now that she’d decided to disable the cameras before entering the cell.

  “Not to mention, the place lacks a certain feminine touch.” The purposely cavalier tone set the fine hairs at the back of her neck on end.

  He was directly in front of her now, but still moving.

  “Although, every once in a while . . .” A single claw scraped a line down her back, not that she could feel it. It was just enough to pull at the fabric of her sweater, not enough to mar the Kevlar beneath. A caress really. “They bring me some take out.”

  Nora didn’t react. She knew he would be gone in the time it took to spin around, and wouldn’t waste her energy chasing shadows. Oh, yes. They had played this game before.

  “Why are you here today of all days, Nora?” he continued. “The moon is full tomorrow, as I’m sure you know. Cutting things a little close don’t you think?”

  Her lip curled as he taunted her from the shadows. Blood pounded hard in her veins as she felt him draw near and then back again. Invisible and silent. Circling. Touching. Retreating.

  “Cut the cheap talk, wolf,” she snapped, feeling much like an animal herself. Caged. Agitated . . . And eager to draw blood. “I’m here for the same reason as always. Nothing more.”

  Are you so sure about that?

  “Is that right?” Laughter. Cutting and cold as if he heard her own traitorous thoughts—which wasn’t one of his abilities; she’d tested that already. No, he would never admit it, but the wolf hated her refusal to acknowledge his name as much as she despised his insistence on using hers. He did his best to turn her annoyance against her, always trying to find a way into her head, trying to make these confrontations more personal than they really were so that she would let down her guard for him to escape.

  Yes, she knew very well how it worked with him, but Nora was no better. The wolf was just a means to an end, another way for her to become the best agent she could be. The only reason she had anything to do with him at all was to learn what she could about defeating his kind. Nothing more.

  Liar.

  “Then come get me, Agent Donnelly,” he called. “The moon won’t wait forever.” His voice had deepened with the dangerous invitation. She realized with a disquieting mortification that she’d been straining to hear it again.

  The familiar thrill rushed through her—the only thing she seemed to ever feel anymore. And despite herself . . . only here, only with him.

  It had gotten stronger as the intensity of their sessions increased during the last few weeks. She took her life in her hands every time she locked herself in here. The cell might hold him. The drugs might distract him, and without direct access to the moon’s compelling power his wolf might be marginally weaker. But he still topped her five feet eight by more than a foot. He still came with built-in weapons of razor-sharp teeth and pointed claws, the cunning viciousness of a wild animal, and the desperate determination of a caged one.

  And she didn’t care.

  She told everyone she was doing this because it would be stupid not to take advantage of the opportunity to train with the only wolf that had been taken alive to date. She told herself it was necessary so she would be better able to handle herself against the horde when the time came, as they all knew it would.

  But it was all lies.

  Inside she knew the truth—and she could have lived with that no problem, except that . . . he knew it, too.

  Two

  Ignoring the wolf’s rough-voiced dare, Nora continued to wait. It killed her to stand still when she knew he circled just beyond her field of vision, but she had learned the hard way—the screaming in pain, bloody and broken way—never to rush headlong into danger, even now when the locks and the gun and the guards were all on her side and it seemed she was the one with the power.

  She waited and scanned the confined space with all her senses, biting back the sharp taste of adrenaline, letting it make its way through her bloodstream to all her extremities. Nora’s sight was limited in the dark without her goggles, but her hearing was far above average, and she had reflexes almost as fast as the wolf’s thanks to the medical enhancements she’d paid for last year. Enhancements that had given her the speed and strength to put the smackdown on all manner of creatures just like . . .

  Duck. She swung her leg out in a wide sweep. Missed.

  But her elbow on the way back up didn’t miss, and neither did the roundhouse that sent him stumbling two steps into the single circle of weak light. It was her first good look at his lean, dark body tonight, but her reaction was the same as every night—shortened breaths as exhilaration surged, a frisson of fear that skittered down her spine . . . and a dizzying rush of molten lust she was finding it harder and harder to ignore.

  “Playtime’s over, wolf.�
�� Her gaze dropped to the big clawed hand he curled into a fist, the veins that bulged and wrapped all the way up his arm. She stifled the shiver of anticipation that started between her shoulder blades before it could show in her face.

  “Or just beginning,” he retaliated with a grin, flaunting teeth that could pierce her skin and tear out her throat in the blink of an eye if she wasn’t careful. “Depending on how you plan to look at it.”

  A fierce glitter winked from those silver wolf’s eyes as he dodged her offensive lunge forward and countered with a swing of that tight fist. The heavy blow connected solidly with the left side of her face, mashing her lips into her teeth and snapping her head back so quick and so hard she heard the vertebrae in her neck crack. Better than any chiro visit.

  Mouth filling with the coppery tang of her own blood, Nora bit back the cry that got caught in her throat—not of pain, not entirely. She stuck out her tongue and prodded at the split in her lip until the sharp sensation subsided, and then she smiled, purposely stretching out the little pain.

  Ah, fuck. Here we go.

  Blocking his second pass with her forearm, Nora indeed let herself go, knowing she didn’t have to hold back. For long moments the only sounds in the dim cavern were the meaty thuds and smacks of flesh meeting flesh, and harsh breathing from both of them as they whaled on each other without mercy.

  Nora took a shot to the ribs.

  Her fist met the solid surface of his abs.

  Claws swiped across her navel, leaving gashes in her clothes and scraping through the protective sheathe covering her vest.

  She kicked him in the kneecap and drew back for another go when he grabbed her ankle and pushed, sending her off balance and flat on her back in the dirt with a thud that knocked the air out of her in a harsh grunt.

  He was on her before she could blink away the black globs hovering over her vision. Nora bucked her hips and slugged him as hard as she could. She shoved his wide, heavy body off her chest with a shout and then arched her spine, pushing into an acrobatic spring back onto the balls of her feet.