Sedition (28 page)

Sascha tries to keep speaking, but he quickly loses the ability. I keep touching him, feeling him yield to me. For once, there are no immediate threats hanging over either of our heads, and I let myself relax, feeling myself grow hard and excited as I do. I slide up, kissing Sascha deeply, pressing against his body with mine. After I’ve taken all I can handle, I slide him down the pillows, arranging him on the mattress exactly where I want him. He looks up at me with excitement and a little fear, and I love that I inspire that in him. He leans up to kiss me and I push him back down, holding him there. I like his input, but I have my own ideas of what I want to do with him tonight. When he acquiesces, lying still for me, I climb on top of him, framing his body with my own, lining my cock up, ready to take him. I pause, admiring him below me.

He shudders, just slightly, and he smiles up at me. I keep pinning him there, even as he tries to move. He wiggles his ass against my cock a tiny bit until I push a little harder, forcing him to stay still.

“You’re mine,” I remind him, pressing him hard into the mattress with my hands and my hips.

Sascha nods, and I can feel his cock growing harder between us. “Prove it,” he challenges me, although his tone is barely different from begging.

I don’t deny him. I prove just how much he is mine, and I do so slowly, holding him down when he even tries to move. He tries to take me into him faster, meeting my thrusts, but I won’t have it. I force him to wait, to feel me sliding in and out of him slowly, sensually. I feel his arms twitch; he’s trying to grab me and pull me closer, but I trap him and keep him pinned to the bed. I make my way inside of him as slowly as I can tolerate, and when I finish, I continue to hold him in place. I smile at him feeling like I’ve won the challenge.

“Please?” Sascha caves, begging.

He tightens and loosens his muscles around me, trying to pull me in deeper or make me move, but it is to no avail. I am hard inside of him, and I can feel him, desperate for me. I want to move, to plunge into him, to slide out, and to do it again. But the waiting is even more divine.

“Come on, Cash, it’s been too long! Just fuck me?”

It’s nearly impossible to turn him down, but I continue to tease him. I fuck him, slowly at first, so slowly that he doesn’t even seem to notice it. I build up speed gradually, stroking his cock and his face as I do, and I feel something slipping back into place between us. He is mine, not because I own him, or because I demand him, but because he’s given himself to me. He trusts me, just as much as I trust him, if not more. He begs me to fuck him, and I comply with his requests. Over and over, I slide into him, until he’s screaming and moaning, begging me to go faster. I follow his lead, and I feel like I am as much at his command as he is at mine.

As resolute as I was about fucking him slowly, once I build up speed, I maintain it. I drive into him, hard and fast, and I smile as Sascha struggles to keep up. It’s unnecessary. Regardless of what he does, whether he tenses or relaxes, whether he struggles to meet me with his hips or not, I keep fucking him at the same pace, the same desperate need driving me into him again and again.

I change position, bracing my hand just inches from his face to hold myself up. He jumps in fear and excitement, but before I have a chance to reconsider, I realize how much he likes it. I drive my cock into him, changing angles, and I hear him moan as I hit the perfect spot. I do it again and again, stroking his cock as he gasps for air.

I lean forward to kiss him, tasting his lips, and after a few moments, I order him to come. I pump his cock with one hand while the other is stretched out next to his head where I slammed it down just moments before. I give the order and I drag my teeth across his lower lip, catching it and biting down while he smiles up at me. He comes just seconds before I do, the timing perfect enough to draw delicious sounds from Sascha’s mouth. He reaches up to clutch at my back with his hands, only increasing my excitement. I finish and ease out of him carefully, coming to lie next to him.

“Perfect,” I whispers, pulling him close. Sascha nods his agreement and curls into my arms.

We lie there in silence, some sort of balance restored. It doesn’t matter what Torenze did, or any of the others. It doesn’t matter what sorts of threats face us, or what my mother and Lisa are trying to do to destroy our project. We can beat them all, and we can deal with anyone else that gets in our way. I’ve always yearned for an equal, and I’ve found one in Sascha. For the first time in years, I feel like nothing can get in our way.

I lie quietly with Sascha in my arms, considering our perfect fit with one another, our strategic partnership. Somehow, this little brothel whore wormed his way into my home, and my heart. I would do anything to make sure he is safe, but he would do anything to make sure our project moves forward. It’s a tough line, and I just hope we don’t have to pick and choose between the two again.

Sascha looks up at me, a nervous expression on his face.

“Cash… the other night,” he fumbles, looking scared and embarrassed. “When you brought me back from Torenze’s, and I kept waking up with nightmares. Did you say, I mean… did you really mean….”

I know what I said, and so does he, but neither one of us is strong enough to repeat it right now. I tell myself that I’m being chivalrous by not making him say it, not that I’m being a coward by avoiding the words.

“Yes,” I whisper, pulling him close. “And I meant it.”

Chapter 23
Fade to Black

The next few weeks are amazing. Cash works hard to keep me updated on everything that’s happening, even things that scare me, like when he tells me that Torenze was “highly pleased” by our night together, and that he would “just love” to see me again.

It turns my stomach, but I would do it if I had to. Cash assures me that I never will, and I try to believe him. Even better, when I tell him that I’ll damn well do it if I want, Cash just nods and agrees with me. Clearly, he doesn’t like the idea any more than I do, but he’s willing to let me take my own risks. It fills me with a strange happiness that I’ve never felt before.

We hear word that the statement Abriel signed was submitted, and we don’t hear back from Kristine or Lisa. Having them out of our lives is a huge relief, and it allows us to concentrate on what’s important: the research, and each other.

The research is amazing. Without the roadblocks of paranoia and a lack of funds, we move through it quickly. We see the preliminary data, and I am thrilled and excited to look it over, to make sense of it, to confirm the hypotheses that my master had come so close to confirming years ago. He explains why we need an outside person, one who isn’t Demoted, to do the data analysis, and I fully agree. Still, I want to review it for my own satisfaction and enjoyment. The results aren’t surprising; it’s exactly what Cash predicted, what he almost discovered last time, except this time, his research is flawless, perfect, incriminating. As each bruise fades from my skin, I keep thinking that it’s Kristine Miller’s hold on the slave industry fading away, only to be replaced by something new.

Cash sets me to arranging for the release of the data, explaining how we are going to target every media outlet in the country, and a few international ones as well.

“The second we stop worrying about being discovered, our biggest threat is being silenced,” he warns. “So we need to make sure our message gets out everywhere.”

I take his word seriously, accumulating a massive database of contact information and places to submit to, and I tailor each message carefully to ensure it won’t be overlooked. It’s all I work on for weeks, while my master puts in his time at his day job, arranges for the research to be published and verified, and meets regularly with Torenze. As more data becomes available, I add it to the messages, one by one, making sure that they will be ready to go when the time comes.

Aside from that, things are calm. Cash and I spend a lot of time together, debating, sharing stories, and having amazing sex. He treats me better than a slave, better than most would treat a boyfriend, really. Even when he takes me out in public with him, to peek in on the lives of others, he asks me first, makes sure I want to go.

Afterward, he rewards me with some of the most amazing sex I’ve ever had.

He comes home from work one day with a big box of takeout food and a bouquet of flowers. I smile at him, because it’s just too romantic to be his style.

He comes in the door, sets the food and flowers down on the table, and pulls me close for a kiss, ignoring the smile on my face until he’s thoroughly ravished my mouth.

“The secretary at work said it was the nice thing to do to celebrate,” he mutters, blushing a little.

“And what are we celebrating?” I ask, curious. He has yet to inform me of anything celebration-worthy.

He grins. “I told her that I was celebrating my partner’s promotion,” he admits. “I couldn’t very well tell her that our research project has come to a conclusion, and should be ready to be released in a few weeks.”

“Really?” I ask, excited. I can’t believe it. It happened so fast.

Cash nods. “The final data was collected today and sent over to our data analyst. He said it will be a couple of weeks before it’s ready, but if it matches what we’ve gathered so far, we’re set to go.”

“I should go update it!” I announce, thrilled at the prospect.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Cash warns, trying to give me a stern look and failing miserably. “I brought dinner, and flowers, and wine, and I plan to have a lovely dinner.”

“And then I can update it?” I ask, hopeful, and trying to antagonize my master a bit.

He gives me a light slap on the ass, just enough to make me long for more. “And then I’m going to take you to bed and fuck you until you don’t even want to think about updating your damn database.”

I smile, leaning in to kiss him again, pleased when he indulges me. When we finally separate, I raise an eyebrow at him hopefully. “Can we at least talk about the results over dinner?” I suggest.

“Of course,” he agrees.

He’s just as excited to talk about his plans as I am. We take turns gushing about the turn of events, and the possibilities of what will happen once it’s released, and how we plan to reinvent the re-education centers. I feel a little strange, discussing how to turn the next generation of humans into slaves, but I know it could have been better. My life didn’t have to be as terrible as it was during the first few years, and if the process hadn’t been so horrible, maybe I wouldn’t have taken my brother’s place in the Demoted system at all. The system can’t be just thrown away, it needs to be made better, first, and I’m proud to be a part of it.

We finish dinner and a bottle of wine, and Cash comes to me, holding out a hand to escort me to bed. It’s silly, but I appreciate it. I never thought that we would get this far.

He leads me to bed and lies beside me, placing light, tender kisses across my body. I ache for him, and I want to feel him inside of me, but he reminds me that we don’t have to rush. It’s still early, not even dark, yet, and if he wants to take his time with me, I’m more than happy to let him.

He’s just started to slide his hands under my clothes to feel my skin when we hear a knock at the door.

“Let’s just pretend we aren’t home,” I suggest, pulling him down for another kiss. I can feel him getting tense, and I reluctantly let him get up.

As I do, the alarm on his wristband goes off, the one that went off last time when his mother intruded on us. I clutch at his arms, my eyes going wide.

“Cash, what is it?” I whisper, irrationally afraid that someone will hear me.

He glances at the message, but doesn’t reply.

He gets up out of bed abruptly, making his way to the front door. “Stay here,” he orders, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

I’ve never been very good at following orders, so the second I hear his footsteps retreating away from the door, I follow him.

His body, so relaxed just moments ago, gives away how nervous his is, even though I can’t see who’s at the door from where I’m hiding. I can hear, though, and I hear a very official voice announcing that the state has a warrant for the seizure and examination of the slave residing at the address… which is me.

I feel myself growing dizzy, and I try not to panic. They discuss the “temporary” evaluation, the complaint lodged well over a month ago, the “concern” of the founder of the Miller System. Kristine Miller is nowhere to be seen; she’s letting someone else do her dirty work. Cash tries to fight it, tries to argue that there’s no case, that there was a counter claim submitted, that he’ll have everyone arrested and fired and worse. They respond by reminding him that interfering with a state evaluation of a Demoted case is a crime, maybe even a federal crime.

My master has always seemed so powerful, it frightens me to see this power stripped from him.

I do the only thing that makes sense. I find the database, I run a few scripts, and I initiate it to send the preliminary research to everywhere it can possibly go. In my experience, when I am taken from a place, I don’t usually return, and I am determined to complete this job before I am taken away. I finish before the officers push my master away from the door, and I’m standing in the middle of the hallway when they come for me. My master’s face is stricken, he is more scared than he ever looked before.

“Sascha… you have to go with them,” he says, his tone flat. “You have to do what they say.”

“I know,” I admit. I go to him and feel his arms around me one more time. I know he’ll try to come for me, I just don’t know if there will be anything left of me to come for.

The officers aren’t particularly gentle, but they aren’t cruel, either. They load me into the back of a hov-van after cuffing my hands together, and I don’t even have a window to look out of. I wonder if they’re really taking me to an evaluation center, or if they’re taking me somewhere worse. I try not to cry, because I don’t want them to see weakness.

When the doors open, I’m not surprised to see my master’s mother standing there, proud as can be. She drags me out by my hands, but she doesn’t hurt me. I don’t speak, and neither does she, but from what I can see, we really are in an official building. It looks like the re-education centers, but also looks suspiciously like an old licensing office for hov-cars. Maybe this is what they do with them when they become outdated.