"Later" ended up being several hours later and it probably would have been even longer if it wasn't for the fact that I had to find Weasel before I left for Freakers. And no, I was NOT taking him with me. No way in hell. He'd lose control much too early and fuck up the game. Then I'd lose control. Sorry that was not happening.
As soon as Dimitri left, I hopped into the shower and made an attempt to scrub off the remnants of our lovemaking. Blood from semen and sweat flaked off my skin but I couldn't wash away all the bites, lacerations and bruises. Including on my neck, where Dimitri marked me. A nice subtle place. The next time I saw him, I'd have to show thatmalaka how much I appreciated this memento.
Of course, it was no secret that I slept with Dimitri almost as often as I slept with Weasel, but flaunting it was not going to win me any points. Especially if I was planning on Pleasuring Weasel later. The irony that I was being discreet about fucking someone that Weasel was fucking himself did not escape me. Such is life.
forward to asking Weasel whether he was a top or bottom and watch his
face fall in disbelief and embarrassment. All in good time, I was in no
hurry. Timing was everything and if I couldn't stop the affair, I might
as well amuse myself.
I dried off and peeked into my closet. Now what was I going to wear? That was why I preferred jeans and tank tops, easy on, easy off and very little thought behind it. But tonight, I had new role to play and I had to dress the part. I decided on an outfit I actually stole from one of my pickups. Zip up leather vest, tight leather pants, and the leather diamond studded collar not only completed the ensemble, it would hide Dimitri's mark.
Black leather ankle boots and I was set. Leather was sexy and I wanted to look sexy tonight. It was at times like this I wished I showed up in the mirror but unless I juiced and added substance, I never did.
Before I left, I tidied things up because, more than likely, my room would be where the action took place. Then I locked the door and went looking for Weasel. I could feel he was somewhere in the Nocturne. I couldn't exactly pinpoint where. I was relieved he hadn't left yet, but I was going to have to move damn quick to catch him before he did.
I gave the
blood bond we Shared a mental tweak to get his attention. It
- Huh? What's wrong? - Weasel sent telepathically. If you're bonded and have the capability, you can mindspeak within a certain range. The stronger the telepath, the wider the range. If you're not bonded the only way you can mindspeak is if you are in the same place, usually line of sight.
I smiled. - Nothing wrong, - I replied, - Just stay right there, okay? -
Weasel flared up with suspicion. - What the fuck are you planning, Angel Boy? -
I didn't answer. Now that I had a fix on him I phased out and passed through the floors to the ceiling of the Playground. Then I rematerialized on a barstool next to Weasel. He was drinking already. But instead of the juice spiked wine of Rotgut, he was drinking a cocktail of wine spiked juice. Perfect. That meant he was already in the mood for the real thing, he was just biding his time.
Weasel turned to face me, his those clear green eyes wandering up and down my body. Then he gave a low whistle. (You look good enough to eat.)
I leaned over and licked his lips clean. (I'll take you up on the offer when I get back.)
(From where?) Weasel frowned, then he glared at me. (What the fucking hell is going on?)
His questions were predictable but highly irritating. (You want to share my bed later? Be here when I get back.) Then I phased out again before he pissed me off by blurting out some wiseassed retort.
Dimitri had given me the address of the place, so rather than walk over and go through the hassle of a bouncer, I floated from the Nocturne, to the inside of the club. Then I went through the men's room door and solidified again before making my exit.
I knew once someone got close enough they'd see that I had no microchip and figure out I wasn't a Supe. If I fed them a few parlor tricks, I'd be branded a Mutant. I hated the word but in cases like this, it was better than being labeled a Sap. As a Mutant, I'd be a novelty in a place where the audience always wanted the next big thing. I'd amuse them.
It was probably between shows because people were milling around in the red carpeted lobby. They seemed to know one another and were divided into groups, gossiping about the people in their circles and happenings from previous shows. Completely still, I leaned against the wall and let my ears do the work. I quickly learned that they were regulars and a lot had met each other here. Most of them were rich kids, bored with pedestrian thrills available in their safe little suburbs. This *was* their excitement for the night.
From what I was hearing, Dimitri was right. This was not a dog and pony show. They'd done their research. Breast rippers. Iron maidens. Tongue slicers. I wondered what tonight's fun would be.
"I haven't seen you here before," a smoky voice remarked.
Instinctively I froze. I didn't like being surprised, but it was my own fault for being so focused on the crowd. I turned in the direction of the voice. A cool beauty with blonde hair splashing down bare shoulders, her violet eyes appraised me. "I know everyone here. You must be new."
I liked her forwardness. There was nothing timid about this girl. "I am new," I admitted, "Is it all they say it is?"
I did some appraising of my own. She wore a strapless skintight dress that barely covered up her crotch but the black onyx nestled snugly between her breasts told me she only dressed the part of street slut. She was some rich bitchlet slumming. It had been a while since I'd had that kind of nookie. Not that it was my favorite thing, but every once in a while I craved the sensation of sliding into something other than some pretty boy's ass.
I gave her my most charming smile. "Are you with anybody?"
She shook her head. "I came here alone."
Not quite what I asked her but for now, it would suffice. "Since we're both here alone, why don't we sit together when the show begins?"
The smile she flashed me did not quite reach her eyes. "Do you use that line on every girl?"
"No, you're special, sweetling."
I played the gentleman, kissing her hand. "Absolutely."
She played the lady and snatched her hand away. "You're very presumptous."
"And you're starting to piss me off." I knew the game she was playing and never cared for it. *Ti krima,* I thought she was better than that. I grasped her hand and met her eyes. "Drop the act. The role of coquette not only doesn't suit you. It makes you like any other whore. Come find me when you grow up, sunshine." I dropped her hand and walked into the arena.
I'd gotten there just in time, and it was filling up quickly. The decor was interesting, to say the least. Roman gladiator crossed with opium den. The only things missing were the lions and harem. I scanned the room quickly and saw that the closest exit was toward the back of the stage. Perfect for a quick drink if I felt the urge. I chose an aisle seat in the second row.
After more people streamed in, the arena sank into total darkness. The only lights came from the stage. Good, the show was about to start. After that huge buildup by Dimitri it had damned well better be worth it or I might have to create my own idea of a good time. It would not be pretty. Or neat.
The crowd broke into roars of approval as the handler brought a naked Sap girl onstage. The handler was bare chested with rippling muscles, and the black breeches he wore matched the hood over his face. Pity, all I could see were cold flinty eyes.
The girl was slick with oil that smelled of grape seed mixed with the essence of patchouli and her scarred body gleamed in the stage lights. They'd left her face intact, as well they should have. With her long flaxen hair and cornflower blue eyes, she was more fair maiden than wench. The scarring covered but did not hide her full bosom and voluptuous body. Her hair was glossy and her flesh was free of any rash or scaling so they had to be feeding her well. Preparing the lamb for the slaughter.
encircled her wrists and now she was being led to a device made of
stainless steel with spiked rollers. They stretched her out, tying her
feet to one end and undid the manacles just long enough to tie her to
the other. It was a rack, and a pretty good replica at that. At the
moment she was taut, probably uncomfortable, but nothing compared to
how she'd feel later.
The audience fell into a hush as a young man with a crushed purple velvet pantsuit and white ruffled shirt walked onto the stage.
Ugh! You could not PAY me to dress like that.
He turned to the girl and asked, "Do you know why you are here?"
"Yes." Her voice was sweet and clear. I realized that the whole stage was wired to amplify sound. "I have sinned."
"And what is that sin?"
"I am unclean." Her tone was flat, dead, but I could feel the resentment and self-loathing bubbling underneath.
At that moment the man clapped his hands and another girl appeared. She wasn't nearly as pretty. Mouse brown hair and sharp features. But *she* was dressed, if you could call the gray tunic with the sash she was wearing "clothing." However, she wasn't the showpiece and didn't have to excite anyone.
The other girl suddenly spiked with jealousy so overpowering, I had to temporarily shield myself until it subsided a bit. Why was she envious of this drudge? Unless . . .
I had a theory, so I decided to attempt to read her mind. No problem, whatsoever, I got in easily and slipped right out. Just as I suspected. No psionic activity at all. She was a Sap. A Judas Sap. A spotlight was thrown behind her and she gestured toward something draped with a large black covering.
The audience broke into applause, their anticipation hanging thickly in the air.
She uncovered a cart with three tiers. A bunch of buckets were on the top and middle. There was more mystery on the bottom, since it had its own covering.The goat, I mean girl, faced the lady on the rack. "We will wash your sin away." A voice like nails on a chalkboard.
I had no idea of what she was talking about, but the other girl sure did because her eyes suddenly widened in fear. I wondered what could be worse than being stretched to death?
A moment later I found out.
The dressed girl grabbed one of the buckets and dumped the contents of the bucket on her victim, whose teeth immediately started to chatter, and her lips began to turn blue. So that was why they used stainless steel to remake this contraption. It wouldn't rust.
Freezing water? *That* was their idea of torture?
The handler was out of the line of fire but remained nearby, keeping things under control, no doubt. The other guy had slipped away unnoticed. Good. He got on my nerves anyway.
"You're not clean enough." The brunette snatched another bucket and the blonde winced as more water showered her body.I was getting bored already. What *was* the point of all this? The Inquisition theme was getting old by now.
Suddenly the pretty girl muttered under her breath. "If I'm unclean, what does that make you? I wouldn't sleep with them."
So she still had free will and her spirit wasn't broken yet. Now, things were getting interesting. I'd always loved a good cat fight, and it looked like this was going to be a vicious one.
Mmmm-hmmm, the ugly girl whirled around in a fury and threw another bucket of water. "I am the one who will leave here alive tonight," she hissed.
Whoosh! More water but the drenched girl was smiling through it. "You're the one who sold your soul. All to be something you will NEVER be." Silvery drops glistened against gooseflesh.
This time the girl reached into the middle tier and seized one of those
buckets. There was steam rising from it. Odd I didn't notice that
before, perhaps it was on a hotplate. However, I understood what was
happening, even before the hot water soaked the poor thing over and
Snap! The extreme change of temperature caused her bones to buckle. I had to give them credit for creativity.
She wouldn't scream, wouldn't give the other girl or the audience the satisfaction. All that self-control couldn't stop the inner weeping. Every telepath, including myself, heard it. And we reveled in her agony.
But her eyes still shone in defiance.
Her tormentor was livid but her tone was calm. "Speak while you can." She uncovered the third tier, revealing a large wicker basket. Ah, the bag of goodies. The first goody she pulled out of the basket was a bronzed pear shape object with prongs on the bottom and an iron screw on the top. The prongs were folded like a flower just about to bloom.
Things had just been ratcheted up a few notches.
The silent screams became deafening, as the pear was crammed down her throat. Then the screw was turned and the flower opened. Prongs pierced through her neck and I was hit with the scent of blood and patchouli as the crimson poured from her lipsBetween that, her pain, and the arousal of the audience, only sheer willpower prevented me from attacking her. I knew it would only get worse as the night wore on.
Her scent was driving me CRAZY.
The beauty should have lost consciousness by now but there was no escape for her. The handler saw to that. He'd make sure she stayed awake for all of it.
I must have
been so fixed on her that I didn't notice that the other girl now had a
lighter in one hand and pincers in the other. The sizzle of flesh
pressing against hot metal and my damsel in distress no longer had
Sweat, musk, and . . . sugar. I didn't even have to look to know that several people in the crowd were having it on. I licked my lips, then used my tongue to push my teeth back. It wouldn't be long before they'd unsheathe fully.
As the torture of the girl escalated so did the titillation of the audience. And her fear. I let it wash over me and bathed in it. I didn't like what they were doing to her, but I loved the wave I was riding.Ooh yeah, my sight had shifted to Nightvision, and I was now seeing things in fields of red and blue. My teeth were down for good now, the only way they'd retract was if I'd use them. The tiger inside me was free and I was one step from going feral. At this point, anyone I could grab would do, fuck the game.
The sudden bouquet of sugar-spice snapped me out of my near frenzy. Before there had been sugar from the sex-crazed herd, and spice from the victim. In order for it to be sugar-spice, it had to be from the same person.
I brought my vision back to normal and I saw that the bitch had used another of those pear type things, only she shoved it up the other girl's mouni. Or what used to be a mouni, it was a ruin now.
But not even that was enough. Now the handler was fucking her, shit, this was overkill. That was when I realized where the sugar-spice was coming from. Although the girl was definitely suffering, she was orgasming. Someone had screwed around with her neurons so the torment she was feeling was making her climax. I had a good idea of who was controlling her body, but what really had me seething was that it was MY trick. How dare they!
I steeled myself and pulled away from the promise of a satisfying kill. Then I snuffed out the girl's ecstasy and agony and released her from consciousness.
Abruptly cut off from the source of their rapturous trance, the audience screeched in protest. But that wasn't all that was going on. Someone wasn't just getting off on the torture, they were feasting on the grief. Literally. And I'd just cheated them. Hah! Just my luck, a psi vamp! I wondered who it was.
Only one way
to find out. I followed the surge of energy to the seat right next to
mine. Then I took a peek.
It was the
same girl I'd flirted with in the lobby.