Ryke crooked a finger then ushered her before him. Something told him the conversation with Badh had disturbed the equilibrium he’d established.
Why?
Because he’d mentioned taking off her collar, or blatant hints it would happen? That slaves didn’t exist in the Underdeck? Yes, those. He needed to reset the tone.
The king’s door opened, more easily this second time, after lubrication had spread in the lock mech and he’d woken the lock’s brain. That lubrication word gave him dirty ideas.
Lights fluttered on, transforming the black hallway into something more welcoming. In the depths of the residence, machinery began to hum.
“Be still.” He stripped the coat from Gio, dropped it and the mask in the hallway. Everything here looked delicate, ancient and dormant, but he picked up a white covering from a side table. He wiped the sweat from her flushed face, from around her lips, lingering. A woman’s lips were so precisely made and hers were especially so.
“You would inspire an artist.”
She dared to frown at him, though it was a frown that vanished quickly.
He really should upend her and punish her for that, except he liked her frown. Liked her mouth too, and often thought about those lips with his cock between them.
Threads had torn in the cloth. Holes appeared when he wriggled his fingers. Hundreds of years of neglect meant some of the fabrics in the residence would disintegrate. He let the cloth flutter to the floor. Casually stripping her, he left a trail – the mask, the coat, the cloth, and the long, black gloves as he wandered deeper into the rooms. Some of the overhead lighting panels malfunctioned and were dim or dark.
They progressed through a strange environment of disjointed light, their steps stirring to life a faint scent of dust and old decayed fabric. Old memories too, perhaps. Could you smell those? A king had been here.
With her under his hand and his fingers stirring the soft hairs of her nape, he directed her down the hallway then into an atrium. Here were pretty walls. They were etched but modest compared to the general residence he discovered through the door leading from the atrium.
History had not recorded that the last king here liked mostly naked slaves in various forms of bondage decorating his living spaces.
Next, the grand entry into a dining area... He aimed her past that and into a recreational area with reclining seats and more erotic artwork, rendered in ivory and blue with accents of red.
“Kneel. Stay,” he commanded.
Silently, she kneeled, and if her lip trembled and she feared him, wasn’t she supposed to?
Under her knees was a heavy, navy-colored rug with a quiet pattern of white vines twining over it.
“I think...” He turned in place. “I like it here.”
This was not a place for meetings to plan war, peace, or anything vital. This residence had been for parties and sex. Or just sex.
Paintings and frescos on walls. Eroticism and battles made grand. Blades and fetishes mingled with guns and rockets. The Scavs used edged weapons, not Mekkers, or not currently. Smoke and deadly light from energy weapons played over fields, blending with the sexual montages. Holes tore through bound and tortured figures composed of half mist, half flesh.
The king last here had played hard.
Gio stayed where he put her while he wandered some more, down a short hall leading to a wide bedroom with a bed large enough for orgies.
He’d put his hands on her in private for the first time since coming to the Underdeck, and it’d been a heady experience, knowing that down here there was a difference. He wasn’t so beholden to his masters.
The king was still the king, but he was distant. Yes, the Underdeck was locked irrevocably to its duty to the Mekker people, as it should be, but it was a realm to itself because others rarely dared to come here. The danger was both fearsome and freeing.
He strolled to her, his not very penitent client. Was he losing perspective? Mindfuckable client versus fuckable pet. He kept clients at an emotional distance but pet said more. How much more he wasn’t sure. It was a meal he’d not savored before. If he approached this slowly, he could always withdraw and return to walling her out. He could go back to being her distant inquisitor.
Pet or client or both?
There were layers to this that no other relationship could have and that made him feel as if he was on fire...the good kind of fire. Ryke circled Gio. His boots made little noise on the rug and he listened to her breathe. Her eyes followed his boots; at times, she flicked her gaze to his face. Daring for a slave, considering his powers.
He paused behind her. This could also be stage four of breaking a client – make them want to help you. The psychology of attachment could achieve miracles. He only had to make her think she adored him. Difficult but not impossible.
This had to appear natural.
And the first slow step was? He smiled. Time to find out what a human cunt feels like.
He tapped the underside of her foot with the toe of his boot. Her toes curled. Such dirty feet.
“Are you thinking about the Underdeck?”
He imagined he could count the beating of her heart as she thought through what to say.
“Of course,” she said quietly.
“That things have changed? People up there are after you and after me too. Some of them will want me dead.” He went to his knee then ran his forefinger up the middle of her back, from waist to where the suit ended below her collar. “I know you. You’ll have figured that out.” He tugged a curl of hair. “Being here doesn’t mean I’m powerless. It gives me more choices.”
Ryke reached around to her front with both hands. That they ached to touch her wasn’t normal but all he’d had was whores for a long, long time. By feel, he found the toggle of the zip.
He stopped to smell her, nose nudging her flesh. “You smell of sweat and sex. I hope the water still flows. I need to wash you before I make you filthy again.”
Her next breath caught. She held it for a while as he unzipped the kol-hide suit. When the teeth of the zip caught on her and she hissed, he chastised her. He had her pull her arms from the suit then peeled it from her upper torso. His hands welcomed the warm give of the curves of her breasts. He gauged their weight and squeezed.
As he stroked his thumbs over her nipples, they puckered and rose.
Again, she hissed.
“I’m glad I killed that fucker who tried to fuck you,” he whispered to her neck, not expecting a reply, because at the same moment he’d put the side of his hand between her teeth. Her tongue rested docilely against his skin. He smiled and pressed his hand a little deeper.
“Is your cunt ready for me?”
She grunted, protesting with mumbles that made her tongue lash over his hand – soft and warm. It was a protest he could love...especially when he imagined putting a clip on her tongue and tying it to the floor while he fucked her.
His cock kicked upright a tad more.
He was getting ahead of events.
Slow.
Massaging her, playing with her body, smoothing hands down her, over her, under her, when he forced her to all fours. All this was necessary, all serious business on the road to breaking her.
His deep grabs of her shoulder muscles with his teeth made her bow her spine and gasp. He grabbed more of her, biting a path to above her plump ass cheek. After he dragged the suit completely off of her, from her sticky skin, his hand slid to that ass cheek. Sticky, wet, filthy girl.
Naked girl. All of her his to play with and not just to interrogate.
He might be getting a little carried away but stars above...
He found her cunt, wedged the fingers of his right hand between those sodden lower lips. The heat beckoned him to put more than his fingers into her.
“Checking you for weapons. I never know with you, smart thing that you are.”
“I’m not –”
“No? Not armed with anything lethal? Are you sure?”
He covered her, still fully clothed but letting his cock grind up into the valley where her ass divided. It wanted to fuck her, hard. So did his head. Denying both those parts of him was impossible.
“Don’t move. Stay.” The word came out more gutturally than the last time he’d said it. If she moved…if she did, it’d give him a perfect excuse to do bad, bad things.
Head down, she swayed in time to his thrusts that went nowhere.
When he ceased to move she kept panting, mouth slack, eyes shut.
“Are you thinking it’s wrong to like what your torturer does to you?”
“I’m just...tired,” she rasped, her eyes still shut, her mouth licked by her straying tongue...and her cunt? When he sat back and checked it, yes, glistening.
The thrill of undressing her to fuck her was not the same as the thrill of undressing her to extract information.
“Liar.”
Hand on her butt, Ryke pushed a finger into her, gliding it slowly inward on her thick moisture. Then he watched for her response, waiting until she ducked her head and inhaled jerkily, until he felt the crush of her pussy muscles.
He laughed.
If he didn’t get her clean now he’d be fucking her with her dirty as a whore who’d been with men all day, especially when he added his own grime to their collective dirtiness.
Feverish of eye, holding himself in check, with a gigantic hard-on denting his pants, he leashed her and towed her off to find a shower. He found one the size of a command center with the plumbing still connected, though the water took forever to arrive. He stripped and poured a torrent over them both from the antiquated shower heads. If the heads were phallic in appearance, it was no shock after the lounging room.
He had her bend over at the wall while he pulled out the accuator buried in her ass, then washed her again, thoroughly enough to make her aware he could stick his cock in her ass at any moment. He’d removed it to stop himself. Trigger the accuator and she’d be dribbling down the wall having orgasms, or on the floor, or anywhere he positioned her, while he plowed her in every orifice.
Tempting, but a bad strategy, today.
The blue towels that’d been left hooked on the walls were scratchy and possibly fossilized, but of stern fabric. They didn’t fall apart when he threw one around her and soaked up the leftover water. He patted her dry, did her hair first, then redid it and her tits while she pouted and glared, and looked as if she wanted to run. When he was finished, they stood in a shallow, half-inch deep puddle, though most of the water had sluiced away down golden drains.
Steel, white, and gold in here and nothing had corroded.
Droplets on the metal leash made it shine as if studded with gemstones. He jiggled the line of links and the droplets flew. Gio pouted still, with lips as fresh and red as newly bought flowers. He dragged her to him, reeling her in like a hero of old might catch a monster on another planet. Those sweet lips became so close and tempting.
“You look rebellious. Is that wise?”
Her subtle swallow and the confusion chasing across her eyes made his heart and his dick ache.
Remember. Slow, not furious, no more raising terrible fears in her. He kissed her tenderly. Pressing lip to lip, eating her mouth and neck very little, he left the faintest of red marks. He could be a gourmet of this woman – taste her, arouse her. He gripped her breast and the back of her head, pressed her to the damp wall then held her in place with a palm planted on her tangled hair and the other on her belly.
By now her breathing was violent. So was his.
He angled his head, kissed her once more, felt his cock bump into her belly and almost groaned. He drew away.
“Pretty thing,” he murmured, curling her lip downward until he saw her small teeth.
Being nice probably didn’t allow for chaining her spread-eagled to ceiling and floor with one of his fuckspears in her pussy while he claimed her asshole. Or at least, not yet it didn’t.
Everything here was slippery. He needed to go elsewhere or risk breaking a leg.
Next to the orgy-capable bed was a broad chair with deep upholstery and armrests. It was a good place to sit. He observed his obedient creature as she kneeled, then he held up his finger.
“Open your mouth.” Her wide eyes before him while she sucked on his finger seemed to pull at him, all the way to his cock in an unbroken cord of pressure. “You...” He paused to gather breath and his wits. “...make me feel immoral by your very presence and considering what I’ve done in my past that is an achievement.”
He removed his finger, not expecting a reply, but he got one.
“That’s your doing.”
“Oh?” He felt his amusement build.
“I never planned to sit here nude.”
Her petulance hit the right note for him and he chuckled and leaned in to say, “You’re right.” No more talking. He took a firm hold of either side of her head and pulled her down until his cock was twitching an inch from her mouth. “You’re going to suck this until I say to stop.”
“Wait.” Her breath warmed the head of his cock.
“No. No waiting.”
He could feel her straining to pull away but it wasn’t full strength. A small farm animal could fight more than this. She opened her mouth and engulfed him.
“Down, all the way.” Watching her head lower, feeling the burst of sensations as her moist lips and tongue applied themselves, he knew in that instant he’d never go back to interrogator and client.
Re-establish the tone? It couldn’t be the same, not now. Not when he had himself exactly where he wanted to be – inches deep inside her hot mouth.
He thought about plucking her off him after a few minutes of eye-watering, slick-sounding sucking and very little gagging. He really shouldn’t be making her gag, or forcing her, not if he wanted adoration. Fuck though it made his balls throb, made everything throb. Especially his dick.
He dragged her up and almost off him then, reluctantly, all the way off. Then he watched her splutter. Tears decorated her cheeks and he carefully wiped them away with his thumbs.
“Climb up. Sit on me.”
She hesitated and he smiled briefly, wondering if she’d hate him too much if he punished her. This female’s wetness dripped from her. A small pool of it lay beneath her slightly spread legs and that made for an even more excruciating decision.
The intricacies of arranging for her to like him were so damn daunting.
Maybe he should just grab her and shove her onto his cock?
Maybe he should talk? After. Talk after.
He couldn’t just stop threatening her immediately, that would be too abrupt. Lesser threats then. He leaned forward.
He could make her like this, if he was subtle with those threats.
“Put your hands behind your back and hold your wrists, if you don’t want me to tie them. Then tell me what the fuck you’re doing.”