ElyriasEcstasy (3 page)

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The holding room was small and gray, lit from above by a
single row of round, flat lights. Their dismal glow made the space seem dank,
almost wet. And cold.

Virge knew the space was designed to intimidate. Make her
feel small and squeamish. She sat in the only chair provided to her, set before
the small square of a desk. It was no reasonable size, having barely enough
surface area to rest one’s forearms upon. Chances were it had been specifically
designed for the signing of confessions. It was all typically dreary Guard
tactics, a mindset of menace and rote power-flexing. At least old Aphael had
some flair. You could banter with that evil fucker.

The only other person in this little room paced its moderate
length, back and forth. Another tactic, Virge thought. The man was trying to
appear casual, when really he was only stalling until his superiors arrived. He
wore the typical Lux-like attire of all black, cut in the militaristic fashion
of a Guard uniform. Two silver bands circling his upper left arm revealed his
position and rank as a low-level Interrogator. The Guard loved to give
themselves capitalized titles. Probably the sod who swept up the gray floors
was called the Janitor.

But pompous title or not, this man certainly had the
authority to ruin her night were he so inclined—and when were members of the
Guard not? At least no one had handcuffed her.

Virge had already had a long day. Waiting to see the Toplux
for hour after hour had pissed her off far more than she’d let on. But this was
about more than her being inconvenienced and she damn well knew it. This was
serious. That business with the pamphlets. She had known when she’d given Bongo
and his merry band of recalcitrants that paper that it would probably come back
to bite her on her shapely ass. He and his gang claimed to practice “magic”,
though Virge had never seen any real proof, just a lot of flashy talismans and
mumbo jumbo. Even so, Bongo was persuasive, and a good fuck, and he always
seemed to turn up just when she needed some serious fun.

Besides, she had no love for the Lux. Anybody with eyes
could see that they had a stranglehold on the Safe…not that that stopped her
from selling her services as a chemist to them.

Damn, she could use a drink.

“This is the third time we’ve been in this room together,
isn’t it, Miss Temple?” The Interrogator voiced his question in the smug tone
of one who already knew the answer, or was pretty sure he did.

So much for getting back to town before the midnight curfew,
Virge thought. It looked like she was going to be spending the night in the
Guard facility inside the Citadel. Hers wasn’t one of the dangerous border
towns, though it did lie beyond the city that surrounded the Citadel, the heart
of the Safe.

She cleared her throat, folded her hands and smiled.
“Fourth, actually.”

It was worth it for the sour squiggle his mouth became. On
the other hand, having been hauled in for questioning four times wasn’t
anything to be proud of. It was better not to get caught, to not even be a
suspect in any anti-Lux activities. After all, she liked her freedom. Liked it
a lot.

It occurred to Virge only now that she didn’t know this
low-level Interrogator’s name, this man who had babysat her three times before,
charged with keeping her company until his superiors finally put in their
appearance. She had never understood the purpose of this interim figure. Why
not just let her sit, the way Aphael Chav had?

Virge eyed the pacing male, considering. What if he
wanted
to be in here with her? It was a sudden, unexpected, vaguely delicious thought.
Maybe this man pulled some strings every time she was brought in. Maybe he
wanted to play at being the dominant inquisitor before the true professionals
showed up.

A snigger escaped her.

His heel ground sharply on the stone floor. He turned and
glared at her. “Finding something amusing?” He made the question low and
menacing.

Or it would have been genuinely menacing a minute ago, Virge
mused, still tickled by her theory about this man. She slouched back in her
chair a little and for the first time truly beheld her Interrogator with her
deep-brown eyes.

He looked a bit underfed, which probably wasn’t the truth of
it. The Guard ate well. Food shortages never seemed to affect any of the people
who played on the side of the Order of the Lux. More likely he just had a
naturally thin frame, though he did appear to have some muscle tone beneath his
black uniform. His skin color was wan but not unhealthy. Probably he spent a
lot of time in rooms like this. His jawline was firm above his stiff dark
collar. He actually had fairly handsome features, although he was likely going
to end up with a dour-looking face as he got older if he didn’t exercise some
other facial expressions. He looked to be in his mid-twenties.

All in all, not a bad specimen.

Virge considered further. She had a good idea of how long
she’d been in this cell. She had a rougher notion of how long it normally took
before the other, higher ranked Interrogators arrived to truly get the
investigation underway.

An impish smile tugged at her lips. Was she
really
considering this?

Well, why the fuck not?

“What’s that smile for, Miss Temple?” he asked.

“You can call me Virge, you know. The Toplux does.”

“I can call you anything I want,” he asserted. He took a
step her way, standing now just on the other side of the tiny desk.

“I’d like to call you something,” she said.

“I’ll bet you would. The problem is, of course, that if I
don’t like it, I can make you sorry you said it.”

A corner of her smile gained a provocative curl. “I’d settle
for knowing your name.”

He blinked. He seemed to be contemplating some threatening
rejoinder. Maybe he couldn’t think of one. Maybe he reconsidered in
mid-thought. In either case, after a few seconds of hesitation he said,
“Daphral. Nick Daphral.”

“I’m glad to know your name, Nick Daphral.” She lifted one
well-toned, red legging-clad leg and perched it provocatively upon the edge of
the little metal desk. She let her head loll subtly to one side, her fair hair
spilling over the shoulder of her blouse. Her smile grew even more sultry. It
was as far as she was willing to go with this, especially since any move more
enticing would require her to open her shirt and let him see the full swells of
her breasts.

His eyes had grown comically wide. Whatever he had expected
to happen in this room this evening, this sure as hell wasn’t it…although maybe
this was in fact the fantasy he’d been secretly hoping for all along.

“Why…” He swallowed drily, cleared his throat, but his voice
remained breathless. “Why are you glad to know my name?”

Nick Daphral was a little dense. Fine. So be it. She could
back down from this thing right now. Or she could go ahead.

She dropped her foot from the desk and slowly rose from her
seat. “‘Cause if I didn’t know it,” she purred, “I might call out somebody
else’s while you were boning me.” Fuck it, she thought. She was in this all the
way now. Her fingers went to her shirt’s buttons. She started at the top and
worked toward her navel. This crazy scenario was starting to seriously excite
her. The only thing that would’ve made it better was if she’d had a few drinks
in her. But beggars in holding cells couldn’t be choosers.

She had reached the second to last shirt button when Nick,
in something of a blundering rush, came around the desk and dropped strong
hands atop her shoulders. He stood half a head taller than her, and he stooped
slightly when he went to kiss her.

Virge wasn’t having any of the tentative, almost chaste kiss
he started to plant on her lips. She whipped a hand up to take him by the nape
of the neck, feeling soft flesh above the rigid collar. She pulled his face
down hard onto hers, spearing her tongue up between his lips. He responded
after another little hesitation. His hands tightened on her shoulders. His
mouth ground onto hers. Their tongues stabbed eagerly at each other.

The kiss broke, both of them panting. Nick’s hands scrabbled
into her open shirt. He grappled at her breasts as if he hadn’t touched
anything like them in months. That might be the case. Who knew? Virge liked the
somewhat rough feel of his fingers on her erect nipples.

She dropped her hands to the unnecessarily complex fastener
holding shut his black trousers. Stupid fucking Guard uniforms, she thought.
Finally a snap gave and a zipper parted with a sharp steely tearing sound. She
plunged her hand inside.

His cock was fiercely hard. Virge loved the throbbing warmth
of it. She grinned triumphantly when the Interrogator paused in his pawing of
her breasts to breathe out a delirious little moan. It had the tonality of
excitement, of gratitude, of stark wonder that such a thing was happening here
and now, to him.

Yeah, she judged silently. Been a while since this poor
bitchboy got laid.

She shucked her shirt then pushed Nick back until he had to
sit on the edge of the metal desk. That desk was small but at least it was
sturdy. Still grinning, Virge seized his pants and yanked them unceremoniously
off his legs, sliding them over his polished black boots. He was still panting
for breath, gazing at her with those shock-widened eyes.

She wondered why she hadn’t ever thought of doing this
before.

Virge Temple dropped to her knees. The floor was cold, felt
almost damp under her. She was more interested, however, in the moistness
currently streaming in her pussy. Delicious heat scoured its way over her body.
It felt as if her rigid nipples, a chocolaty shade darker than her flesh’s
pigment, were pulsing with desire.

She addressed the cock now rearing conveniently before her.
He was healthily endowed, though not so big as to be unwieldy. Virge brushed
her wet lips along the shaft. She let her tongue playfully explore the map of
squiggly veins. She even dipped low enough to mat the dark, wiry curls on his
balls. He squirmed on the desk’s edge.

Finally she showed him mercy. She closed her mouth over the
drizzling crown of his cock and started sucking him down to his hilt. His
strong, bare thighs pressed in on her shoulders. She drew him deep into her
mouth, feeling his cock head slide into her throat. She was pleased to find she
had a sure control of her gag reflex. Her nose was tickled by his dampened
pubic hair.

“Oooooh—” It came from somewhere above her, the wordless
sounding of desire echoing slightly in the stony little room.

Sex was more than about the pleasure you got, Virge knew.
Its equal purpose was
giving
. It was about connecting, about bridging,
about bringing together human spirits in a carnal tangle, even if it was with
some Guard son of a bitch who was keeping her prisoner.

These high-flown thoughts disappeared from her head as she
sucked Nick Daphral in earnest. Her mouth rose and fell. Her tongue remained
active. She strummed his veiny length, feeling his every pulse, every jerk of
his body. She cupped his balls while she went down on him and he seemed to like
that.

But when his taut thighs started to clamp on her like a
vise, she lifted her mouth, rocked back on her heels and looked up. A sweaty,
bliss-wracked face was looking down, blinking, dumbfounded.

“This isn’t just about my mouth, you know,” she said,
seizing on her philosophical thought of a moment ago. She peeled her red
leggings down her thighs and calves, then removed them completely. “It’s about
your mouth too.”

He stayed perched on the desk, saliva-wet cock twitching.
But when Virge sat in the chair she’d occupied before, slouching once more and
spreading her legs to fully expose her primed pussy, Nick fairly dove from the
desk, dropping to his knees before her.

His breath was hot on her naked folds. She liked to keep her
curls trimmed back to a modest triangle above her vaginal lips. It allowed her,
on occasions of oral contact like this, to get the full gamut of the
experience.

Nick slavered his avid tongue up and down her cleft. She
gasped at the sensation, at the wondrous intimacy. He was utterly fearless
about the act, parting her lips and jabbing inside. His nimble tongue tip
flicked her clit repeatedly. Grinning anew, she reached down and raked her
fingers into his hair. He had the standard short Guard haircut, but she got him
by the roots anyway and held tight, jamming his face harder onto her crotch.

She loved the hungry slurping sounds he made. The action of
his speedy, daring mouth excited her further. Her hips were thrusting now, her
bare ass rising from the chair. “Yeah, Nick, you fuckin’
eat
that—” she
growled, feeling the pleasure hurtling her implacably along. And then she came.
It was like an erotic cascade, her juices flowing, pleasure frothing. He kept
his open mouth on her, even when she pulled cruelly at his hair, holding his
head in place as the quaking continued to shake through her.

He fell back when she let go. His face was slick from his
nose to his chin and his eyes were ablaze. “I have to fuck you, Virge,” he
said, voice strangled and husky.

“Yes,” she said wickedly. “Yes, you do.” She lifted her
right arm, showing her sterility tattoo on the underside. “And no worries
there.”

She pushed up from the chair, took two steps and placed her
palms on the cool concrete wall. She stuck out her ass, planting her feet and
turning her head to regard the Interrogator over her shoulder.

Nick lunged toward her. She heard his boot heels scrape the
floor. His overheated body plastered itself against hers. His panting breath
poured against her ear. His spit-slick cock slithered quickly through the
valley of her ass, then he slotted himself in hurriedly.

Virge actually cried out at the penetration, feeling the
fullness of him inside her as he slammed himself home. He wrapped one arm
around her, the hand closing decisively over her right breast. His other hand
took grip on the ripe flesh of her ass. Then he started thrusting into her.