At the Mercy of Her Pleasure

by Kayelle Allen

  When his cock had pulsed against the mouth of her womb, he'd dared hope for a moment that Destoiya loved him. But she lifted her head and looked at him now with the same expression of rapturous satisfaction he'd seen on so many of his clients' faces. In love with what he could do to them, not with whom he was. He turned his head away.

  “If you let me rest a moment…” he cupped her hips and held her tightly against him, “—I will make you beg for more.” He let out a sighing, shuddering breath.

  Destoiya did not reply, just draped herself over him, her head on his shoulder.

  “Unless you'd planned to kill me.” Sudden anger coarsened his words. “Now that you've fucked me.”

  “You're more to me than a good fuck, Khyff.” Destoiya lifted her head to look into his eyes. “If you can make me beg for you to stop, I give you my word, you will never die because of me.”

  Her gaze held when he studied her. Now. Ask her now. He nodded. “And my brother?”

  Silence stretched between them like a taut string on the verge of breaking.

  “Very well,” she said at last. “I will give the same vow of protection to your brother.”

  Before Khyff could rejoice, she added, “If you make me beg twice.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tyran Sleepliner Manc'eor Neth'e

  Business Class, Promenade Deck

  Senth did not wander long before a wheeled porterdroid intercepted him.

  “Excuse me, sir.” The android rolled in front of him. “Will you be returning to your quarters to sleep for jump, or may I provide a jumpdrug for you?”

  At least he could think if he was awake.

  “Drug, thanks.” Senth shrugged out of his jacket and pulled back a sleeve. How many times have I done this with Shackle?

  “Do you have a drug preference, sir?” The android's right wrist rotated. The skin of his index finger dilated open on the tip like a data pen and emitted a syringe.

  “Holiday, please.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  The android supported Senth's arm with his left hand and set his right forefinger-syringe against the inner elbow.

  The sting of Holiday was nothing compared to the scald of Shackle. The syringe withdrew and the droid's finger rubbed across the entry point, covering the skin with clear sealant.

  “Will there be anything else, sir?”

  “No thank you.”

  The android made a slight bow and then rolled off in another direction.

  Senth rubbed his thumb across the fading yellow bruise from his last dose of Shackle. He pulled on his jacket and fastened it.

  The observation area lay ahead. He turned down an alternate route to avoid the view of soul-sucking darkness during jump.

  Too much like my life. Saint-Cyr's obedient little thief. Controlled. Never arguing. Never questioning. Taking what he gives me and keeping my mouth shut.

  All those warnings from my master. All lies.

  NarrAy had no poison kisses. She tasted of vanilla and warm sugar.

  Her saliva didn't let her control his mind. She listened to him and sought his advice. Trusted him to do his job.

  His heart only pounded when he thought about making love to her. And it wasn't his head feeling like it was splitting apart.

  It was his heart.

  He had to grin. Although the part about having a semi-permanent erection and the touch of her hands driving me insane was certainly true.

  He tucked both hands behind him, strolling without thought. He ignored the jump alarm when it sounded. Lights in the corridor dimmed briefly in warning, and then brightened.

  I can't run from my master any more than Khyff could run from his. If I do, I'll never be free. I have to go back.

  Is love supposed to hurt? He stopped in the center of a hall that branched in four directions. Maybe I'm addicted to her. No, I'm in love. He chose a hallway and entered it. I love this woman! So, what am I going to do?

  Gift shops came into view. He wandered past the bright windows and holovid displays.

  Face my master and admit the truth, that's what I'm going to do. He said he owed me one. Khyff is already free. Maybe Saint-Cyr already knows what I've done. Maybe he was trying to get me to admit I had sex with her.

  He stopped again, noticed he was in front of a jewelry store, and stepped back before the face recognition software could identify him as a union thief.

  Shopping, he could do. Loitering, no.

  I have to make this decision, not Khyff, not my master, not even NarrAy. Me. I have to make it. I have to face Saint-Cyr and tell him the truth. If he punishes me, fine. I'm a man. I can deal with whatever I have to so I can be with my woman.

  In two years, I'll be free, then I can be with NarrAy, and no one can stop me. His shoulders relaxed. I need to tell NarrAy everything will be okay. We will be together.

  Senth let a smile break loose as he headed back toward their cabin. Wait, wasn't there a chocolate shop near that jeweler?

  He searched his pockets as he turned and rounded a corner. Accidentally, he brushed against the shoulder of a youth going the opposite direction.

  “Excuse me.”

  “Hey!” the boy shouted. “Watch where you're going!”

  Oh, kkkhh, this could be profitable.

  A hand reached out to shove him, and Senth turned aside to soften the blow, but let the boy's palm connect with his shoulder.

  He turned to face three human boys dressed in fake Kin leathers edged with fringe. No Kin wasted hard won leather like that, and the bright orange beads in their hair represented none of the sixteen clans on Felidae.

  Senth smirked as he stepped past them.

  A pair of hands grabbed the back of his jacket, yanked him off his feet, and slammed him against the wall.

  He did nothing to resist.

  These little phonies have less total power combined than Khyff does in one hand. Okay, boys, show me what you've got.

  “Look at his eyes,” one of them sneered. “He's a half-breed freak.”

  As opposed to you, dressed like a species you're not?

  He waited for the comment he knew was coming, well-versed in the game.

  One of the others poked a finger into Senth's chest. “Why don't you watch where you're going, freak?”

  “Oh, ffffftt.” Senth gave them the most bored expression he could muster. “And here it's been at least five days since anyone called me a freak. Thank you, boys. I was starting to think I'd blended into a piece of kkkhh like you.”

  The hard jab into his stomach almost made Senth retch.

  Before any of them could get in another punch, two porter-droids wheeled into view.

  The boys shoved Senth to the floor and ran down the hall.

  The droids sped toward him, one chasing the boys. The other helped Senth to his feet.

  “Do you need medical assistance, sir?”

  “No. I wasn't hurt.” Senth finger-combed his hair back into place.

  The android inserted a hand into an apron pouch and withdrew his arm with a brush attached instead of a hand. He began dusting off Senth's clothes.

  “I'm fine.” Senth waved off further help. “Really.”

  The other android returned and skidded to a stop beside him. “Assailants recognized as passengers. Event logged. Do you wish to file charges, sir?”

  “No, thank you. Not necessary. The incident was a misunderstanding.” Senth spread his arms, ignoring the dull pain in his stomach. “See? No harm done.”

  The two androids bowed. “As you wish, sir,” they chorused and then rolled back toward their original direction.

  Senth patted the pocket where he'd dropped the drak-loaded debit bracelets the boys had been wearing.

  Freak, huh? Look in the mirror. Well, at least now this freak has some spending money. And I doubt your mommy and daddy are going to hear how you lost your debs, are they?

  I wonder what kind of flowers NarrAy likes? Now, where did I see that chocolate shop?


  * * * *

  Tarth, Tarth City

  Imperial Palace, Stable—Sample Level

  Destoiya shared a quick shower and a light meal with Khyff, then led him by the hand to a pool. She stretched out full length in the shallow end, nestled in a place sculpted to fit her body. Heated tiles beneath her radiated warmth into her back, soothing muscles tired from exertion.

  Khyff lay in a similar support next to her, eyes closed, arms floating in the water.

  What a perfect body he has. The water glistened on his ridged abs, filled his navel. She licked her lips.

  As if Khyff felt her gaze on him, he turned his head and looked over at her. “This feels wonderful, Majesty. Thank you for inviting me.”

  Only the newest pleasure slaves entered the sample level of the stable. It afforded the most privacy.

  The better to accustom her jades to sharing later.

  She stretched out more fully. “Khyff.” She drew up her feet and spread her legs wide apart, making room for his shoulders. Motioning him to face her feet, she patted her belly. “Lie down between my thighs and put your head here.”

  He arranged himself in the long shallows. Her thighs rested on his shoulders, her mound against the back of his neck.

  “That's good, Khyff. We'll relax a moment before we play again.”

  He chuckled. “You think lying between your legs will relax me?”

  She tugged a lock of his hair. “I'm counting on no such thing.”

  “Then you won't be disappointed.” He placed his hands on her ankles. “May I please you with a foot massage, my goddess?”

  “A foot fetish, Khyff?”

  “I have a fetish for all parts of you, Majesty.” He massaged her arches, stroking firmly with his thumbs.

  “Mmh. I think I like goddess better. You have strong hands.” Destoiya closed her eyes, relaxing into his touch. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  His shoulders pressed into her thighs when he laughed. “If you knew, you might not want my hands on you again.”

  “In that case, never tell me.”

  The Conqueror let herself rest, opening herself to Khyff's hands. He massaged the balls of her feet, swept his fingers across the insteps and up over the tops.

  “Turn over, Khyff. I want that wonderful mouth of yours on mine for a while.”

  He twisted around and slid up into her arms, connecting his lips with hers. While his tongue stroked her mouth, she caressed the length of his chiseled torso with both hands.

  Water slapped the edges of the pool.

  Khyff pulled back and looked down at her with a sensual grin. He shook hair out of his eyes, a few blond strands clinging to his brow. Trickles of steaming water shone on his chest and arms.

  She inhaled his scent, and almost moaned in pleasure. The smell of a clean, fresh, and healthy man was as heady as pheromones any day.

  I love what this one makes me feel. Her eyes dragged down the wet length of Khyff's magnificent body. And he's all mine.

  She cupped her hands around his firm rear and pulled him upward, guiding his cock into her.

  “Slowly,” she whispered. “Take your time.”

  When he moved to his knees and leaned back, he drew her hips with him, angling his penis up into her at the perfect depth to rouse her. Water sloshed onto the floor.

  Destoiya cried out when he rocked side to side. Warm water trickled into her ears. The hard ridge of his cockhead massaged the hollow spot just inside her vagina. Her second favorite site of pleasure.

  As if he walked into her thoughts, Khyff placed one hand over her outer lips and squeezed them together over her favorite site. The hard nub of her clitoris jerked and twitched under his continued caress.

  The fullness of his cock inside her, rubbing against her pleasure spot, made Destoiya moan. His fingers kept up their firm caress on the outside of her labia.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist and braced her arms against the floor of the pool, head tipped back. Water splashed over her face and into her eyes as he rocked against her.

  Her crotch rubbed hard against Khyff's. Up. Down.

  She was tender inside, raw from hours of lovemaking, and loving the scrape of his pubic hair against her skin as she rode him.

  She screamed her release.

  Destoiya shuddered and shook, trying to catch her breath.

  Khyff still stroked into her. Soft, easy, slow.

  She knew then he was far from through with her.

  Destoiya's breath sobbed in her throat. He really might be able to make me beg.

  Khyff brought her legs up, placed her ankles against his shoulders, and did not move. After a moment, the gentle twitch of his cock inside her declared his intent.

  Tightening and relaxing his inner muscles to tease her sensitive vagina, Khyff brought the unconquerable Conqueror to another searing climax.

  Destoiya watched, amazed, while Khyff rocked relentlessly in and out of her vagina. Far from weary, he stroked into her with vigor.

  She relaxed against the floor of the pool and held out her arms.

  He lay atop her, weight on his elbows, and brought his mouth to hers.

  Khyff supported himself above her, trembling on the brink of release.

  She played with his blond hair, her dripping hands clutching the wet, silky strands. I wish you hadn't cut this. I love long hair on my men. The pictures of him in her notes showed his hair shoulder-length.

  She clenched herself around him and smiled, enjoying his cry of lust when she made him come.

  Inches above her, water dripped from his brow. Or sweat.

  Time to test him.

  She pulled him close and took his mouth with gentle ferocity. He lost his breath, and she kissed him harder, forcing a cry from him when she bit cruelly into his lower lip.

  When she released him, Khyff panted, eyes closed, his lower lip already bruised and swelling. A drop of blood rose to the surface. Destoiya licked it away.

  He had not fought her, or even questioned her with his eyes, accepting her abuse of him as her right. If ever a man had redeemed himself from death, Khyff had.

  But Khyff's brother need not know he'd be spared. Young Antonello would do anything to save his older brother.

  Docile, obedient, full of lust. Such a perfect hostage, this young blond god in her arms. Destoiya stroked her fingers through his hair. Maybe I'll make him grow it out again, since I plan to keep him.

  His cock twitched inside her, still hard as a rock. Destoiya sucked in a breath in awe and held it. I'm going to have to beg, after all.

  “Khyff, darling,” she caressed his face. “I absolutely love you.”

  He looked down at her through thick lashes, gave her a wicked smile, and began once more to thrust.

  * * * *

  Tyran Sleepliner Manc'eor Neth'e

  Business Class, Berth Sierra Forty-one

  NarrAy paced the tiny cabin, waiting for a response from Broxus. When her comm chimed, she grabbed it off the top of her bagbot and turned it on.

  Her security officer's image shimmered in front of her.

  “Sorry it took me so long, ma'am, I…”

  “Fine.” She motioned him to hurry. “I need to know what that man does to Senth.”

  She had sent Broxus on a research mission to discover exactly what kind of punishment Saint-Cyr meted out that caused Senth so much fear.

  “I found no emergency room records or doctor visits for injuries, unexplained or otherwise. Nothing in the police files. Saint-Cyr keeps a tight lid on everyone in his employ, which seems to be about half the city.”

  “So you're telling me we've got nothing?”

  “Afraid so.”

  NarrAy folded her arms. “A lot of good you are.”

  Brox raised both eyebrows. “Sorry. I did the best I could. There is one account, but it's about someone else.”

  “Go on.”

  “Does Senth have scars anywhere?”

  She'd touched and kissed every inch of hi
s body. “No, I don't think—Wait. Yes. On his right hand.” She studied her own. “On the back and palm, almost like a stab wound. Think it's significant?”

  “About six years ago, a thief named Rokko died in prison before he could testify against Saint-Cyr. Rokko said James Stalkos, one of the Harbinger's former partners, paid him to steal something from Saint-Cyr, but the Harbinger caught him in the act. Rokko had a stab wound on one hand that he said Saint-Cyr ordered as punishment.” Broxus held up a hand. “They nailed his hand to a table and then beat him.”

  NarrAy laid a hand over her heart. This can't happen to my tiger. I won't let it!

  “How did the man die?”

  “Autopsy says he choked to death on a piece of food in the prison cafeteria. Don't find that believable, do you?”

  “No. What about the treatment of his slaves, Brox?”

  “No abuse reported, but then who'd dare? Saint-Cyr has had dozens of kids working for him over the years. One or two ended up in prison, but the rest are married and settled down, and actively employed. A handful are professional thieves, registered with the union. Naturally, everyone's happy as can be when it comes to Daddy Harbinger.”

  “The man scares me, Brox. And he scares Senth.”

  “Surprise! He scares everybody.”

  NarrAy shivered. The heat of tears stung her eyes.

  “Anything else you need from me, ma'am?”

  “No. Not tonight. Thanks, Brox.”

  He gave her a loose salute, and faded from sight.

  Pacing, she reviewed her options, ticking them off on her fingers.

  Buy him from Saint-Cyr. No, what if Senth felt he owed her?

  Beg Saint-Cyr to forgive Senth, swear it was all her fault. No, that would take authority away from Senth. He needed her to believe in him.

  “How could I be so selfish? He was a slave. I knew his master forbid him to touch me, but I seduced him anyway. He was on Shackle, but I couldn't keep my hands off him. This is all my fault.”

  Senth had been drugged, forbidden to touch her, and forced to swear he wouldn't. She'd made him do it anyway.

  She pressed her palms over her eyes. “What have I done?”

  NarrAy licked her lips. “Maybe it's not too late. If I don't touch him any more, he can break away from me.” She nodded, an idea forming in her mind. “All I have to do is resist touching him. He can go back to his master with a clear conscience. In two years, when he's free, we can be together.”