Checkmate (8 page)

A roar went up from the crowd when she leaned forward and
closed her mouth over his shaft. She wound her arms around his thighs to steady
herself.

The taste of him roused too many memories. Their first
night…the hotel on Dariuscon Eight where she’d…
Better not to go there. Concentrate
on the show right now.

He was so close to the edge, she had to take it slow and
stop four or five times to keep him from coming too quickly. Alden and Elissa
held him tightly because he bucked hard as she stroked his balls with her palms
and sucked his cock. Raje begged her to do it faster, between moans. Finding a
cruel streak she hadn’t known was there, Devonne deliberately slowed for a
time, keeping him on the edge. The crowd performed some sort of chant that
mixed in with their cheers. It seemed to urge her on.

Still she refused to hurry. Payback for some of his lies.
Groans and moans poured out of him until he was all but sobbing as she stroked
the insides of his thighs up to his anus. Eventually the crowd’s roar reached
some sort of crescendo. Time.

She squeezed his balls, tongued the head of his cock and
sucked hard. It took only a moment of that until he jerked and came into her
mouth. His shout went on for some time and the spasms of release continued for
a couple of minutes. Devonne pressed her face into his abdomen, wanting to keep
the intimate contact for as long as possible. She wanted to hang onto him
forever.

But the others began to break apart, and Raje reached a hand
down to help her to her feet. She clung to him for a moment, watching while
Alden and Elissa helped each other get back into their clothes. The cheers and
stomping of the crowd made a distant background to her desire to hold close to
Raje and stay with him. He indulged her by not moving and putting his arms
around her.

When the Sangari guards approached, however, they separated
and hastily donned the clothes they’d left.

Devonne wished she could have some time alone with Raje.
Bringing him off had made her want him even more.

* * * * *

“It’s sex again,” Whetlock told her the next day. “A
different sort of kink this time.”

“Hell, now what?”

“You ever messed around with domination and whips and that
sort of stuff?”

Devonne shrugged. “Tried it out. It can be exciting if it’s
done right, with the right person, but it’s not really my thing. How nasty do
they want this to get?”

“I think that’s pretty much up to you and the prince. And
really, I think it’s still more about giving them a good show.”

“Is there some sort of scenario for this?”

“You’ll have a word. He’s supposed to get it from you by
using the equipment provided and whatever other methods he chooses. I think the
longer you can hold out, the better.”

“We can work that, I think.”

“That’s what he said, too. He also said to tell you he’ll
mostly follow your lead on it.”

She nodded. “What kind of kinky outfit do I get to wear for
this one?”

“Same as yesterday.” He handed the clothes to her.

“Could be worse, I guess.”

And of course it did get worse. When the Sangari guards came
for her, they slapped leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles, as well as
one around her neck. They used a fastening embedded in the cuffs to hold her
wrists together behind her back. “Your word is ‘constellation,’ the Sangari
told her before leading her out onto the field. “Do not give it to him easily.”

Raje had gotten the really kinky outfit this time, something
that seemed to be comprised mostly of straps of black leather. They
crisscrossed his chest, belted around his waist and hung down to cover his
abdomen and groin. Black leather sandals were held on with laces that laddered
up his legs. A black leather mask hid the upper part of his face, leaving only
his unusual eyes shining through the holes provided.

It gave him an eerie and rather frightening grimness, but as
usual he seemed perfectly at ease even in that bizarre costume. It showed off
his lean, strong body to good advantage. And Raje, as she’d already noted,
wasn’t shy about displaying himself.

He was a prince, a royal heir. He’d likely grown up in the
glare of public spotlight, so naturally he’d be comfortable with it. Putting on
a good show would have become second nature to him at an early age. With his
acting skill, it was no wonder she’d never suspected he was more than an
average space pirate and didn’t realize he was using her. Still, she was about
ready to cast all her reservations aside just for the pure pleasure of being
with him.

She’s the love of my life
, he’d said.Could he
possibly have meant it?

The Sangari guard delivered her to Raje, who escorted her
onto the platform. It didn’t have a bed on it this time. A chair, a low bench
and a frame higher than her head and wider than her outstretched arms occupied
the dais. Chains hung from the metal top and the side bars of the frame. Both
the chair and bench had various straps and fasteners attached as well. A rack
held an assortment of whips, straps, paddles and other things she didn’t
recognize. The Sangari had done their research.

“You okay?” Raje asked. “You look a bit pale.”

Devonne drew a deep breath. “Okay. This is just a bit too…real,
I suppose.”

He laughed softly and said, even more quietly, “It’s all
show. Or mostly anyway. I’ll have to use some of these things, and it will
probably sting a bit. If any of it’s too much for you, though, just say that.
‘Too much.’ They won’t know it’s a signal but it’ll tell me to back off.”

She tipped her head enough to acknowledge it. “Some sting
might be interesting. Do we get to fuck again?”

“I’m counting on it. Prepare for a bit of sexual torture
along with everything else.”

“Let’s get on with it, then.”

He started by freeing her wrists and sitting her in the
chair, where he fastened the hooks on her ankle and wrist cuffs to rings
embedded in the arms and legs.

“Now, madam, I understand you have some information I want.”
He said it loudly enough to be picked up by the field microphones and amplified
around the stadium, and with surprising conviction. “Why not save us both some
unpleasantness and just tell me now?”

Devonne wasn’t sure how to answer or if she could manage to
be as convincing in her refusal. Stubborn silence would serve the purpose just
as well.

“Nothing to say? I guess I’ll have to be more convincing.”
He pulled open the fastenings on her shirt and released her wrists just long
enough to let him strip it off, leaving her bare to the waist. Then he
refastened the wrist cuffs and went to the rack, where he picked out something
that looked like a short whip with a triangle-shaped piece at the end. She dug
the identification out of a long forgotten memory of a picture she’d seen. An old-fashioned
riding crop.

Her stomach twisted with a combination of fear and
excitement. BDSM had never been her cup of tea. Now she felt, deep in her gut,
why it worked. Being bound and at his mercy but believing he wouldn’t hurt her
too much was a kind of gift. A gift of love and trust.

Of course, he could have made his own private deal with the
Sangari. She might be playing into his hands. Instinct said he wouldn’t do
that. He’d use her in other ways to further his own ends but not an out-and-out
betrayal. Was that the same instinct that believed he loved her right up until
the day she’d learned who he was?

He brushed the triangular end of the crop across her
breasts, teasing her nipples with it. A thrilling curl of dread mixed with the
tingling the rough edge of the leather roused each time it brushed over the
areola and peaks. He pulled it back and flipped it forward to slap lightly
against her right nipple.

It didn’t strike hard enough to hurt, producing just sting
enough to be arousing. Heat and pressure began to gather in her cunt. A few
more slaps followed, getting somewhat sterner each time until it burned a bit.
It wasn’t a painful fire, however. More of an arousing burn, the kind she got
when he pinched the nipple or nipped at it.

“Ready to talk?”

She just stared at him in response, struggling to look more
pained than lustful. He released her from the chair and dragged her over to the
bench, where he pushed her facedown along its length. The wrist and ankle cuffs
were attached to chains embedded in the legs. She could move her arms and feet
only a couple of inches. He removed her boots and then flipped up her skirt.
The resulting helplessness made her uncomfortable. Had she ever realized before
how much she liked being in control?

The crop slapped down on her unprotected butt. It stung, but
not very much. A few more and a light burn started to fire back there. Oddly,
it dug deep into her, blazing a trail across the short internal distance from
butt to cunt.

He smacked her bottom a few more times, then bent down close
to her face. “Are you ready to talk?” he asked loudly. More quietly, he added,
“Help me out here. Scream. Yell. Protest.”

Devonne shook her head in dramatic refusal but she answered
softly, “Okay.”

When he tapped her with the crop again, she yelled. Long and
loud. It brought some jeers and stomping from the crowd. Over the next half
hour or so, he switched the crop for several other items, paddles of various
sorts, straps, floggers. After a while her bottom and thighs burned but not
nearly as badly as her screams and protests would suggest. In fact, the damn
beating was turning her on so much she was more distressed by the building
desire than by the little bit of pain.

He stopped and asked her about the word again. When she
refused, he released her ankle restraints long enough to pull off her skirt,
then fastened them to the bench again, with her legs spread widely.

The openness disturbed her, considering a camera was
probably stationed to look right up her legs. Within moments, though, the throbbing
in her cunt drove it from her mind. She wanted, needed, ached for him. The
dominance thing had possibilities she’d never considered before. Some other
time, they might—but there couldn’t be anything more for them.

A leather paddle slapped against the insides of her thighs.
It startled her into a yell since he’d smacked hard enough to hurt. He rubbed
the area where it had hit. The pain changed into electrical tingles of need. He
brushed up her leg and into her slit. Within the constraints of the bindings,
she wriggled an invitation to him. Still, she shouted in surprise when a finger
stroked along her labia and dove between them to find her clit.

The real torture began then. He alternated hard smacks from
the paddle with soft swipes of his finger on her bud. He dipped into her cunt
and stroked until she was bucking and yelling with the need to climax. Need
tightened every muscle in her body. Every nerve cried out for the release he
denied her. As soon as he felt her getting close, he backed off and let her
cool down. Two times, three times, and even a fourth he brought her to the
brink of orgasm and stopped.

She hated him.

After the second time, she moaned and groaned and yelled at
him. By the fourth time his life was in danger. “You son of a bitch, Raje
Jernigan, let me come. Stop torturing me!”

He leaned over and blew lightly in her ear. “You know what
you have to do.”

He straightened. The paddle came down on her buttocks and
his finger began stroking again. Devonne cried and yelled with the frustrated
need. When he stopped just short of letting her come again, she howled. “All
right. All right. Constellation. The word is constellation. Now finish it, damn
it.”

She wasn’t sure exactly how he managed it in that position,
but he straddled the bench himself and lifted her hips so that his cock could
enter. She screamed in delight as he filled her with his hot, hard length. It
was Raje in her, making her body sing with the special delight only he could
bring. He plunged and pulled back, then rammed into her again. She was so
tight, so close to the edge, it didn’t take long. She jolted hard as the spasms
of the too-long-delayed climax made her jump and shout in triumph.

* * * * *

The seventh day brought a different sort of challenge,
although Whetlock could give her only sketchy details. “It involves fighting a
machine or a group of machines. I wasn’t clear on which. Anyway there’s
apparently some way of disabling it or them but you have to figure it out.”

Devonne shrugged. “Nice change from the sex stuff. Any special
costume for this?”

“Nope. I think it’s come as you are.”

The Sangari guard handed her a yard-long metal pole with a
rubber handgrip, but he failed to tell her what she should do with it. There
were no rings or platforms set up on the field. Raje entered from the other
side as usual and joined her in the center of the field. The Sangari guards
withdrew.

Moments later a pair of barred gates rose. Three machines
rolled out of each opening. About four feet high, black and shaped like an
elongated pyramid, they moved faster than she would have expected, homing right
in on the two humans. Raje and Devonne moved a few steps to the left. Each line
of machines altered course to continue toward them.

This might not be easy but at least it didn’t involve public
sex.

“Heat-seeking or motion-sensing,” Raje said. “Any idea what
these are for?” He held up a rod identical to hers.

“Smacking them?” She looked at it again. “I wonder about the
rubber grip. An insulator?”

“Could be. Let’s see if they’re programmed with any sense of
strategy. Move apart.”

She nodded and they each took a few steps in opposite
directions. The robots paused then began to fan out into a circle around them.
The farther apart the humans got, the more the robots spread out. When Raje and
Devonne reached twenty feet apart, the robots began to separate into two groups
that moved together again. A smaller group closed on each of them. The two
humans sidled toward each other. The robots regrouped into one unit and fanned
into arcs again.