Dutch ordered herself to relax as she approached Delle Seyah’s door. Shoulders: down. Jaw: unclench. Teeth: stop grinding. She already knew Delle Seyah had the information she needed, and that manipulative schemer had already agreed to meet her. Johnny was as good as rescued, so Dutch could goddamn un-tense. Right now.
“How lovely to see you,” came Delle Seyah’s unmistakable voice. Dutch couldn’t believe how much insinuation she’d packed into five short words. Like a shot of the very best haqq poured by an enemy who’d probably laced it with poison, it was a temptation only a madwoman would take. “I can’t wait to negotiate.”
Dutch stepped into the dragon’s lair. Or rather, the dragon’s bedroom.
It was dominated by a luxurious bed with a small computer panel that probably had controls to turn the ceiling into a mirror, extrude manacles, and produce kinky-as-fuck sex toys. But Dutch only managed the briefest glance at the bed, because Delle Seyah stood in front of it with her luscious breasts spilling out of a half-laced corset.
If Dutch leaned in, she’d be able to catch a glimpse of nipple. Would they be pink as sunset clouds over Leith, brown as fertile earth, or the color of a ripe and juicy peach…?
She jerked her gaze upward. That sneaky bitch had to have deliberately left her tits hanging out, just to annoy and distract Dutch. And one look into those huge dark eyes told Dutch that Delle Seyah hadn’t missed the success of her trick. Dutch felt hot all over.
From anger. Just anger. That was all.
Dutch spoke quickly, hoping to get it over with and get the hell away from that damn clit-tease. “You said you could tell me where the people who kidnapped Johnny are holding him. What’ll it cost me?”
Delle Seyah stood silently for a moment, her breasts moving with every breath and a slow smile parting her blood-red lips. She was obviously enjoying Dutch’s frustration. When she'd apparently savored it to the maximum, she spoke. “What a coincidence. It just so happens that tonight I’m in need of a plus-one for a party. Why don’t you slip into something less utilitarian and hideous, and come along?”
Even for Delle Seyah, that was absurd. Dutch snapped, “I’m not sipping haqq with your rich bitch friends while Johnny’s in danger.”
“Johnny’s not in danger. Yet. He’s in a perfectly adequate cell, and his captors have no intention of harming him. They simply want his skills to build them a weapon. I’m sure he can stall them for days pretending to construct it. Of course, once they realize that he’s stringing them along, the situation will change. But for now…” Delle Seyah shrugged an elegant shoulder. “…your little friend is fine.”
She appeared to be telling the truth. Dutch relaxed, this time without conscious effort. “Great. What’ll it cost me for you to cough up his location?”
Delle Seyah let out a condescending sigh. “Do keep up, darling. I already told you. Come to the party with me, and I’ll give it to you when we go home.”
Dutch sighed as well, but with renewed exasperation. “You’re yanking my chain.”
“I would never do anything so crude with your chain.” That infuriating smile once again curved Delle Seyah’s sensual lips. “And I wouldn’t dream of making a deal without disclosing the full terms. Here’s the rest of mine. This party is a very special event. It’s invitation only, it’s very exclusive, men are not allowed, and every woman may bring a slave.”
Dutch’s jaw dropped. “Are you seriously telling me that your price is making me your slave for the night at some kinky lesbian sex party?”
Delle Seyah got a familiar expression— the “Dutch, you are so, so foolishly mistaken” look— and shook her head.
Dutch was weirdly disappointed, then weirded out that she was disappointed. She told herself that it was because, hard as it was to imagine, that evil schemer might have something even worse up her sleeve than making Dutch her one-night slave stand.
“Darling, no,” Delle Seyah purred. “My price is making you my slave for the night at the kinky lesbian sex party.”
“You’re kidding,” Dutch spat out. But she made her final, furious protest knowing that Delle Seyah was not the kidding type. But she was totally the kinky lesbian sex party type.
With that, Dutch realized that it was all a set-up: Johnny’s kidnapping, the whole complex trail of clues that had led to Delle Seyah without implicating her, and the party tonight. “I’m going to kill you!”
Delle Seyah smirked. “Took you long enough, darling. Just remember, the deal’s still the same regardless of how it came about: I own you for a night, and no one gets hurt.”
She didn’t even give Dutch the dignity of waiting for her to make her decision. Instead, she turned her back, making a show of her fearlessness. “Go on, darling. Lace me up.”
Dutch stood shaking with fury. She ought to kill that evil conniver… but she had to save Johnny. Slowly, her killing rage faded. Dutch knew when she’d been beaten. Being a sex slave for a night wouldn't be the worst thing she’d done, or even the first time Delle Seyah had gotten one over on her.
She glared at that arrogantly turned back, remembering the first time Delle Seyah had pulled the “lace up my corset” trick. Dutch had tried to keep her at arm’s length, but Delle Seyah had jerked her in, pressing their bodies together. It had taken all Dutch’s training to hold back any revealing reaction. But no amount of training could prevent the startling tingle of electric heat that had run through her body. Or, when Delle Seyah had stepped away, the urge to pull her back…
Dutch gritted her teeth. Delle Seyah was the worst of the worst, a heartless manipulator blackmailing Dutch with Johnny’s safety. So fine. Dutch would pay the bitch’s price. But she wasn’t going to like it.
The corset was made of black silk over hard boning, with blood-red laces running through hundreds of tiny holes. Dutch had to carefully poke the laces through each one and then tighten them. With each little tightening, she had to bend in close enough to feel the heat coming off Delle Seyah’s smooth skin, see the way her soft flesh bulged out with each tug, and smell her scent, a complex blend of citrus, musk, and spice.
Her enemy’s hair was piled atop her head in intricate coils, but a few fine strands escaped to tickle Dutch’s fingers as she got to the top. The nape of her neck looked so pale and exposed, it made Dutch want to touch it. Instead, she gave a hard yank on the laces, tightening the corset cruelly. She’d hoped to make that sadist gasp in pain or shock, but she only let out a slow sigh of bone-deep pleasure. So, apparently a sadist and a masochist. Somehow that didn't surprise Dutch. She hurriedly tied off the corset.
“Very nice. Your turn now.” Delle Seyah held up a slim finger to hush Dutch’s protest before it could be voiced. “You are certainly not attending any gathering dressed as you are, much less a high class party.”
“It’s a sex party. Very classy.”
“You are a master of the obvious, my dear. As you so aptly point out, however classy, it’s still a sex party. And that’s why you’re going topless.”
Heat surged to Dutch’s face. As well as some other parts. “I am not!”
“I am not… rescuing my tragically imprisoned partner?” Delle Seyah inquired.
“Fine.” Dutch yanked off her blouse, then bra, and dropped them on the floor. She spread out her arms, displaying her body like a slab of meat.
“Very pretty. Not that I’d expect anything less from Yala.” Delle Seyah looked her over with unhurried pleasure. Dutch’s nipples hardened under that slow, dark gaze. She swallowed. She’d meant her unceremonious strip act as a gesture of how much she didn’t care. But her body seemed to be giving her away.
“The rest too,” Delle Seyah ordered. “Off with it. You’re not wearing a stitch that any of my friends would be seen dead in. But luckily for you, I just happen to have some extra clothing in exactly your size.”
“Yeah,” Dutch muttered. “I'm sure precise bio-readings on my body just magically appeared for you. Like I don’t know you’ve been buying stuff in my size so you can look at it and finger yourself while you think about what you can’t have.”
“Oh, but I can have it,” Delle Seyah replied. “So the buying and looking and fingering was not in vain. Now, strip.”
The unexpected command in her voice made a wave of warmth go through Dutch’s body. That, and the image of Delle Seyah’s slim fingers rubbing herself while she thought of Dutch. And the coolness with which she’d admitted it.
Dutch stripped off her boots, her weapons, her pants, and her panties. She didn’t make a big production of it, but neither was she as casual as when she’d taken off her top. It was coming home to her now that Delle Seyah would have her. And not just at some possible future date, but tonight. The only question was exactly when, how, and what it would be like.
Now that she knew, it was hard to think of anything else. Would Delle Seyah have her right now, hard and rough? At the party, in some private room? At the party, in public? Or would she make Dutch wait through the entire thing, and only claim her final price afterward?
An involuntary shiver ran through her body, then another. Every inch of her skin tingled as if it was waiting and yearning for Delle Seyah’s touch.
Delle Seyah again looked her over, this time with more than pleasure. Her hot gaze conveyed a distinct sense of ownership. Her eyes traveled from Dutch’s bare feet and up her long legs, then stopped and lingered for quite some time. Dutch could practically feel that gaze. She forced herself not to actually squirm, but she wanted to. A tickle and a slippery heat between her legs told her that she was getting wet.
I hate her, Dutch reminded herself. She’s the biggest bitch in the Quad.
Her clit throbbed. It clearly didn’t care what sort of bitch Delle Seyah was. Or possibly it liked bitches. The bitchier, the better.
Delle Seyah clearly savored Dutch’s discomfort. “I’ve bought myself quite a prize. You’ll be the hit of the party. Now, get dressed.”
She snapped her fingers and pointed to a chest by the bed. Dutch turned, knowing as she did that Delle Seyah had undoubtedly placed the chest to get a good view of Dutch’s ass as she bent over it. She gave her ass a deliberate shimmy to make sure Delle Seyah knew Dutch was on to her, and opened the chest.
“Oh, come on!” Dutch burst out.
She didn’t need to see Delle Seyah’s smile; she could hear it in that bitch’s voice, like a cat with all the cream in the Quad. “Put on everything but that one terribly shocking item, you delicate flower. I want to collar you myself.”
The chest, unsurprisingly, contained no panties. Dutch would be going commando in the shortest of short skirts, a wisp of scarlet gauze that barely covered her ass. She pulled it on, then put on the black silk stockings and ribboned garter belt. Then the absurdly high spike heels in sleek red leather. If it hadn’t been for her training with Khlyen, she’d have been in danger of breaking her ankle. Or her neck.
“Bring me the collar and leash,” Delle Seyah ordered.
Even with Dutch’s training, it took concentration not to wobble as she stepped forward. Undoubtedly that was the point. But no matter how carefully she walked, her skirt floated upward with every step, exposing just about everything. Delle Seyah’s gaze again raked over her, licking at her exposed body like a flame.
“Oh, I nearly forgot.” Delle Seyah went over to her dressing table, leaving Dutch standing bare-breasted in those teetering heels, with her own leash and collar dangling from her hand.
"Whatever it is, I know you've been plotting it the entire time," Dutch snapped. “Nearly forgot, my ass.”
“My dear, your ass is unforgettable.” Delle Seyah returned with a small gold pot. A tangy scent floated out when she held it up to Dutch. “Edible rouge. Not that I don’t think your nipples would be delicious without it. Still, one mustn’t be underdressed for a party, and of course non-edible rouge wouldn’t do.”
“Of course,” Dutch echoed mockingly.
Delle Seyah dipped her finger in the pot, then offered it. “Taste.”
Dutch glared. Delle Seyah set down the pot, her pink-tipped finger still held out, and said, “That was an order, not a suggestion. Recall the definition of ‘slave.’”
“Fine. Stick it in.” Dutch opened her mouth as if she was showing it to a doctor.
She expected to be scolded for backtalk, but Delle Seyah instead mused, “It’s been so long since I’ve had the pleasure of breaking a rebellious slave. Oh, I shall enjoy this night.”
The finger slipped into Dutch’s mouth. Delle Seyah rubbed the rouge on to Dutch’s tongue. It was sharp, almost sour, only barely sweet. Dutch swallowed involuntarily. The tangy flavor grew stronger. It was citrusy, but not a fruit she could identify.
Had Delle Seyah selected the flavor to suit her own taste? She must have. Would she lick Dutch’s nipples? Would she suck on them? Would she caress them with her tongue? Would she bite? She seemed like the biting type. Dutch’s eyes fluttered shut as she imagined all those possibilities, each one so intensely that she could nearly feel Delle Seyah’s mouth on her breasts.
Then she did feel it. No— not Delle Seyah’s mouth. Her finger. The tangy scent of the rouge wafted up, along with Delle Seyah’s own citrus-spice-musk, as a soft pad touched her nipple. Dutch gasped around the finger invading her mouth, drawing it in deeper, but kept her eyes shut. Delle Seyah was applying the rouge to her nipples with her other hand, massaging it in.
Dutch closed her lips around the slim finger and sucked on it, spiraling her tongue around it as if she was licking a candy stick. As she’d hoped, it gave the other woman a hint. Delle Seyah drew spirals around Dutch’s nipples, making them harden under her touch. Dutch’s breath came in gasps as she sucked harder. Her clit swelled and throbbed. She wanted those clever fingers on it, right now—
They gave her nipple a sharp pinch. Dutch’s eyes flew open as Delle Seyah removed her finger.
“Just bringing out the pink.” Delle Seyah pinched Dutch’s other nipple, then smiled her patented ‘biggest bitch in the Quad’ smile. “No, actually, I did it because I felt like it.”
“Same reason you do everything,” Dutch muttered, frustrated and angry. “Clit-tease.”
“My dear, you have no idea.” Delle Seyah daintily wiped her fingers on a handkerchief, then pulled on a pair of elbow-length gloves of black silk. She didn’t have so much as a strand of hair out of order, and she looked perfectly satisfied. It was only Dutch who felt hot and sweaty and sticky and unsettled. Had she really been longing for Delle Seyah’s touch?
I just want someone to touch me, Dutch told herself. Not her specifically. If someone plays with your nipples, you get turned on. If you’re turned on, you want to finish. I want to finish, and she’s the only one here. That’s all there is to it.
“And now for the collaring.” Delle Seyah lifted the collar and placed it around Dutch’s neck. The black leather was smooth and cool against her throat. Delle Seyah tightened it until it was slightly uncomfortable, not interfering with her breathing but reminding her that it easily could. Then she closed the silver buckle.
As it clicked shut, Delle Seyah gave a languorous sigh, as if she'd just had an orgasm. "Oh, I have been waiting to do that. Being collared suits you so. My dear, you should wear one all the time."
Dutch searched for a snappy comeback, but nothing came to mind. The metal was cold and intrusive against her throat, a constant reminder that she was in her enemy's power. Wearing Delle Seyah's collar meant that Delle Seyah would be touching and possessing her all night, whether her fingers were literally on Dutch's skin or not. Every time Dutch breathed, she could feel the collar tightening slightly, as if Delle Seyah was doing some erotic asphyxiation. Dutch had never let anyone choke her before, even to this minor extent, and it unsettled her. Especially because, for the first time, she had an idea of what people got out of it. The constant reminder of her own breathing gave her a low-level adrenaline rush like a shivery sexual heat.
"I thought so," Delle Seyah said silkily. That goddamn bitch didn't miss a trick. "It gives me such a delicious sense of power to know that I've awakened you to an entirely new fetish. And at your age, too! My dear, you really need to get out more."
Without another word, Delle Seyah took the black leather leash in hand and set off for the door. Dutch was forced to follow after, with the collar pulling against her neck if she didn’t move quickly to catch up. Between the leash and collar and the high heels, for a few minutes all her attention was on walking. By the time she was able to walk without feeling like she’d fall at any second, she was being led out of Delle Seyah’s mansion and along her garden path. Though it was night, there were plenty of people about. They all stared.
Hot blood surged into Dutch’s face. Her humiliating predicament came home to her: led about on a leash and collar like a pet, in spike heels and a skirt that was worse than not there at all, with her rouged nipples displayed for everyone to see. Delle Seyah glanced back and smiled, making Dutch blush harder.
Then, to her immense relief, Delle Seyah led her into a flyer. Dutch sank down on the cushioned seats. Between the heat in her face and between her legs, and the mental heat of humiliation, she barely noticed the flight. Next thing she knew, they’d stopped and Delle Seyah was snapping her fingers at her to get out.
Delle Seyah led her along a garden path to a mansion as magnificent as her own, the leash held carelessly in one hand. Dutch followed, exquisitely aware of the collar tight around her throat and the breeze blowing cool on her bare nipples.
No one was in sight, leaving her with nothing to observe but Delle Seyah’s back. She wore a floor-length skirt of black embroidered heavily in scarlet thread. The corset was her only top, leaving her arms and shoulders and the top half of her back bare. Dutch couldn’t help staring at the way Delle Seyah’s back muscles moved beneath her fine skin as she walked. Her shoulders were much more built than Dutch would have expected, swelling temptingly, their skin pale against all that black. Dutch couldn’t imagine that arrogant aristocrat lifting weights or sparring. And yet there were those magnificent shoulders. It was a mystery.
The double doors were opened by a pair of collared women in elegant uniforms. When they closed, Dutch and Delle Seyah stood in a huge marble ballroom, full of expensive décor and even more expensive-looking women. But mostly what Dutch noticed were all the amazed, impressed, and frankly hungry eyes that instantly fastened on her.
Dutch tried to maintain what little dignity she could and not to madly stare around. But she saw instantly that while other women were collared and scantily clad, none were topless. Apparently that had been reserved just for her. She bit her lower lip, ordering herself not to blush.
Delle Seyah gave a yank on her collar, making Dutch take a swooping, utterly undignified step forward to avoid falling on her face. That brought her into a circle of elegantly dressed rich bitches, every damn one of them unabashedly ogling her.
“What a delectable slave,” a woman said, and openly licked her lips. “I hope I get a taste of her! Thank you for displaying her so temptingly, Delle Seyah. I like the look of her pretty pink pussy.”
“I like the look of her pretty pink ass,” said another woman. Delle Seyah jerked down on Dutch’s chain, forcing her to bend. Her gauzy skirts rode up, and the cool air told Dutch her ass was fully exposed for the other woman’s enjoyment.
“Oh, yesss,” murmured the ass-fancier. “Look at that tight hole. Is she a virgin there? I think she is!”
“Are you?” Delle Seyah demanded unexpectedly.
Dutch bit back the first five retorts that came to mind. She couldn’t be too mouthy, or Delle Seyah might decide she hadn’t kept her side of the deal. But she was hardly going to confess her own sexual secrets to Delle Seyah’s top twenty fuck buddies. “None of you are going to show me anything new.”
“Ooooh,” a third woman sang. “Listen to that brat! Shall I help you discipline her, Delle Seyah?”
“Is she a treat for the whole party?” a fourth woman asked.
A fifth exclaimed, “Those eyes! That hair! That attitude! Wherever did you get her? I want one.”
“No touching my slave,” Delle Seyah replied smoothly. “Until and unless I give you permission. As for where I got her, a lady never tells.” To Dutch, she said, “I need a footrest.”
Delle Seyah reclined in a luxurious chair, then lifted her feet. For a furious instant, Dutch considered pretending she didn’t know what Delle Seyah wanted. But she had agreed to the bargain.
Reluctantly, Dutch got down on all fours and allowed her enemy to settle her feet on Dutch’s back. They rested lightly, but the heat of her heels felt like it was burning a hole in Dutch’s bare skin. As if it wasn’t humiliating enough to be used as a piece of living furniture, the position made her even more conscious of her near-nudity. Her breasts hung down, their weight an inescapable reminder of their nakedness. Her ass was again exposed to the air, reminding her of the guest’s comment on the tightness of her hole.
“Now, a test of grace,” Delle Seyah remarked. “Keep your back completely straight, and raise your right arm high.”
Dutch had undergone much harder tests when Khlyen had trained her. With little difficulty, she did as Delle Seyah had ordered. Delle Seyah neatly snagged a long-stemmed cocktail glass from a slave’s tray and placed it in Dutch’s upraised hand. Then, with her feet on Dutch’s bare back and her cocktail easily within reach, she negligently lounged back and gave a flip of a slim hand.
“Everyone, tell me exactly what you think of my new toy,” Delle Seyah suggested.
The women clustered around, ogling Dutch until she felt stripped utterly naked. She tried not to listen to their comments, but she couldn’t help it. The more they objectified her, the harder it became to keep the hot tide of humiliation and anger from surging up and showing on her face.
“Her tits are passable,” one said, examining Dutch like she really was a piece of furniture. “Not too big, not too small. But the left is slightly larger than the right. I prefer them to be perfectly symmetrical. Of course, you get what you pay for.”
Delle Seyah took her cocktail from Dutch’s hand, sipped it, then replaced it. “I don’t have your obsessive passion for symmetry myself. Sometimes those little flaws are what separate a piece of plastic from a work of art.”
Another woman settled gracefully on the floor in a cross-legged position to examine Dutch’s rouge-smeared nipples. “Her nipples harden nicely. I’d like to roll them in my fingers. A shame we can’t see their natural color. Or did you mean that as an invitation to lick it off?”
“Perhaps,” Delle Seyah replied. A tiny flick of pink tongue showed between her scarlet lips, making Dutch catch her breath.
“Her cunt is what I want,” a woman said greedily. “Look at those slick, wet lips. I think I can smell her from here!”
“I know I can,” another said, sniffing loudly. Embarrassed and angry, Dutch hoped to hell the woman was lying. “I wonder if she tastes as good as she looks? Don’t be a tease, Delle Seyah, darling. I know you wouldn’t be so cruel as to let us look but never allow us to touch.”
“What I want is to tie up those long limbs,” a woman said, her voice rough with lust. “What do you think would look best sinking into that sweet flesh? Strips of black leather? Silk ribbons? Rough rope?”
“Wire,” the ass-fancier suggested. “And a cane to whip that ass. I can see the red welts rising now. Does she squeal, Delle Seyah? Tell me she squeals!”
That’ll be a cold day in hell, Dutch thought.
Delle Seyah smiled enigmatically.
Dutch’s raised arm ached, her knees hurt, and her muscles were tensed with the desire to get up and slap the living daylights out of every one of those bitches. And Delle Seyah too, of course, for forcing her into this humiliating position and inviting everyone to objectify her. Delle Seyah most of all.
Delle Seyah finished her drink, then ordered, “On your knees.”
Dutch shifted to her knees. At a snap of Delle Seyah’s long fingers, she handed over the empty glass to another slave, who took it away. Kneeling was much more comfortable, and being allowed to lower her arm was an intense relief. Delle Seyah’s command had come just in time. Dutch couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit grateful.
Delle Seyah’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a trick. She snapped her fingers again. “Show your feelings, pet.”
Dutch knew which feeling Delle Seyah had meant. Worse, she knew exactly how Delle Seyah wanted her to show it. She’d said ‘pet,’ and Dutch knelt with her face near Delle Seyah’s thighs. A cat or dog would nuzzle that sweet-smelling warmth in gratitude.
But Dutch could feel more than one thing at once. And the other thing she felt was pissed. If there was one thing Dutch was fucking sick of, it was being manipulated. She looked up, letting that sadist see every bit of the fury she felt. If Delle Seyah wanted a pet, she should know that she risked getting bitten.
The guests edged back. But Delle Seyah looked from Dutch to them, and then laughed. “Are you afraid of my little tiger? She’s on a leash. She attacks only at my command.” Delle Seyah smiled wickedly. “Fear me.”
She picked up a canapé from a platter and held it above Dutch’s head. “Have a treat.”
Dutch was seriously tempted to bite. But one look in Delle Seyah’s eyes conveyed the warning, ‘Remember your deal’ as clearly as if the bitch had said so aloud. Burning with anger and humiliation, Dutch raised herself, craned her neck, and neatly took the tidbit with her teeth. As she did, her lips brushed against Delle Seyah’s fingers in a brief caress that made her tremble all over.
The canapé was shrimp wrapped in thin crisped meat, spicy and delicious. Against her will, Dutch wanted another. And she wanted to touch Delle Seyah’s fingers with her lips, too. She shouldn’t… but it was a deal.
Hating herself, Dutch raised her face and put on a hopeful look. Delle Seyah fed her another shrimp. This time she angled her fingers so Dutch’s lips would slide over them a little longer. The fluttery warmth in Dutch’s belly increased. On the third bite, she couldn’t resist closing her lips around Delle Seyah’s fingers in a stolen, shameful kiss.
When Dutch finished eating, Delle Seyah petted her like a cat, running her fingers through Dutch’s hair and massaging her scalp. Dutch relaxed, enjoying the sensation. Then Delle Seyah tangled her fingers in Dutch’s hair and gave it a sharp, painful yank. Dutch jerked her head up, startled and angry. Sadistically, Delle Seyah pulled her hair again, forcing her head back until her neck ached and holding it there for a long moment before she let go.
With her eyes alone, Delle Seyah indicated her thigh. Reluctantly, Dutch lowered her head and laid it in Delle Seyah’s lap, nuzzling her thighs. Once her head was there, she could smell not only Delle Seyah’s scent, but the muskier odor of her arousal. Dutch swallowed, trying to ignore it. But driven by instinct, her face slowly turned toward the intoxicating scent. Dutch was supposed to nuzzle, so she nuzzled. Harder and harder, seeking for the outline of labia or a dampness that might have soaked through the cloth. Rubbing her face into it. If only Delle Seyah would lift her skirts and let Dutch taste her…
The collar jerked painfully at Dutch’s throat, yanking her away. She looked up at Delle Seyah’s reproving face. “Bad pet. I didn’t give you permission for that. I’m afraid you’ll have to be punished.”
Dutch felt dazed, as much by her own irresistible impulse as by its interruption. “Punished how?”
“Disobedient pets get kenneled,” Delle Seyah said thoughtfully. “But bad girls get spanked. Which are you, I wonder?”
Dutch lowered her head, trying to look penitent. If Delle Seyah caught a glimpse of her face, she’d be sure to know which Dutch would prefer, and then do the opposite. Much as she loathed the idea of being publicly spanked— and she did loathe it, no matter what sort of excited tingle went though her at the image of Delle Seyah’s palm coming down hard on her bare buttocks— confinement was even worse. Dutch had always hated being locked up.
“Spanked please!” exclaimed a guest.
“Oh, kenneled, kenneled,” begged another woman.
“Kenneled in the force field,” suggested a third hopefully. “With parts exposed, so we can help with the punishment!”
That was the worst idea yet. Dutch tried not to let her revulsion register on her face, but it clearly did, at least to the perceptive gaze of Delle Seyah.
“Force field with exposure it is,” Delle Seyah said, her voice quivering slightly with malicious glee. “Ladies, it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. You may do anything you like to the parts of the slave that are exposed, so long as you don’t damage her. Otherwise, use her to your heart’s content.”
She let some slack into the leash and gestured at Dutch to stand. Dutch stood with as much dignity as she could manage, willing her face to remain cool. A slave handed Delle Seyah a remote control. With a smirk, she rapidly tapped out instructions, then aimed it at Dutch and clicked a button.
Dutch gasped. She was suddenly unable to move, but not as if she was paralyzed— as if she was encased in some smooth, cool substance. It was like the air had turned firm around her, reminding her of dreams she’d had. She struggled, or tried to, but the effect was the same as it had been in the dreams. She had no leverage. The field pressed smoothly against her, everywhere...
No, not quite everywhere. She could still breathe easily, and her breasts jiggled as she struggled. Her head tossed, too. Her legs and arms and neck were encased, unable to either move or be touched by others. But her head and torso were free. And, she realized with a flush of humiliation, so was her ass. She could feel her skirts fluttering around her butt cheeks, while they seemed frozen in front.
A woman instantly darted her hand in to probe at Dutch’s cunt, only to have her fingers bounce off. With a frown, she moved her hand around to the rear. Dutch couldn’t turn around to see, but she felt eager fingers spread her cheeks. That invasive touch moved inward, probing inexorably toward her asshole… until it suddenly stopped.
Except for her mouth, it seemed like Dutch’s holes were blocked. Somehow that made her feel even more humiliated and exposed rather than less.
“Oh, Delle Seyah, you tease!” the woman who had been fingering Dutch exclaimed.
“I’m not turning over everything,” Delle Seyah replied. “Some parts are for my use only.”
“Look at the slave blush!” another woman called out. “Oh, she is burning for her master!”
“She’s burning for us to use her,” another remarked gleefully.
The women pounced. Dutch, held in place, couldn’t see what all of them were all doing to her. But she could feel it.
Behind her back, someone spread her ass cheeks. Several warm, wet mouths began to lick and nibble at them. Dutch tried to squirm away, but was held tight by the field. When she clenched her cheeks, they were pried open to a chorus of laughter.
“Squirmy pet!” a woman exclaimed.
Another mocked, “How does she train to get so strong? Does she stick teeny weeny butt weights between her cheeks and clench on them all day?”
Even more derisively, a woman replied, “She must. She’s so tight-assed— in every way!”
While unseen women molested her from behind, more women got low to lick and fondle her inner thighs. One stuck her tongue out so Dutch could see her ostentatiously lapping at the force field around her cunt. Despite herself, Dutch squirmed again, uncertain even to herself whether she wanted to get away or wanted the damn force field to be gone. It wasn’t as if she enjoyed this sort of thing, but seeing that moist pink tongue lick at her and not even be able to feel it was a special sort of torture.
“Look at her panting for it,” a woman remarked, and pinched Dutch’s nipples. “Oh, yes, she’s loving this! Look how hard her nipples are.”
“Let’s see what color they really are,” suggested another.
Eagerly, women clustered to lick her nipples clean. When their natural dark pink was exposed, one remarked, “Same as her cunt.”
“Her tits aren’t anything to write home about,” another said disparagingly. “I’ve seen bigger.”
The cunt-licking woman glanced up, and pulled her tongue back to remark. “I’ve seen better.”
A woman came around from behind. “The most you could do with those is make them bounce.” She slapped Dutch’s breasts, then laughed as they jiggled. Then the woman got into a game of smacking Dutch’s breasts back and forth, giggling as they collided. After a while, the “I’ve seen bigger” woman began trying to catch Dutch’s nipples with her mouth. Dutch wouldn’t have thought she could be more humiliated, but the “catch my bouncing breasts” game did it.
A woman took out a huge dildo and forced it into Dutch’s mouth, making her lips stretch to accommodate it, pumping it in and out until she choked on it, her eyes watering. The hard, thick length of it made her cheeks bulge with every thrust. Other women grabbed her head and hair, forcing her on to it and making it penetrate even deeper.
Dutch stood stolidly after the first few squirms, trying to ignore all those hands and mouths as they fondled and yanked and licked and slapped. Every bit of her body was greedily touched and commented on. But while all those women fondled and humiliated her, Delle Seyah held back. She was right in Dutch’s line of sight, lounging in her chair and sipping on a cocktail with one hand while loosely holding Dutch’s leash in the other. Her expression was one of mild interest, no more.
Dutch burned, all right, but it wasn’t for the women molesting her. It was to make them get their damn paws off her, and to get Delle Seyah’s attention. By then she didn’t care what that fucking sadist did to her, she just wanted out of the force field. And to get a rise out of that arrogant, imperturbable schemer who owned her for the night. Had she seriously pulled that whole elaborate set-up just to watch Dutch be fondled by other women— and be bored by it? What the hell did Dutch have to do to get Delle Seyah to notice her as more than a pretty party toy for the guests to play with?
As that thought came to Dutch’s mind, the dildo woman gave in to another guest’s pleas and withdrew the choking instrument. The party guest who had wanted access to Dutch’s mouth promptly stuck her finger into it. Dutch’s fury suddenly exploded. Her jaws snapped shut.
The woman sprang back with a yelp of surprised pain, shaking her finger. “She bit me!”
Everyone else hastily stepped away, leaving Dutch alone and locked into stillness in the middle of the room. To Dutch’s pleasure, Delle Seyah frowned. Dutch had finally gotten a rise out of her! “Naughty, naughty. Looks like kenneling wasn’t enough to tame my wildcat. Spanking it is.”
She picked up the remote control and hit a button. The force field vanished, sending a tingling rush of blood to Dutch’s limbs with the release of compression.
“Come here,” Delle Seyah ordered.
Before Dutch could obey, Delle Seyah jerked on the leash, pulling the collar tight around her throat. Dutch took a wobbly step toward her, then another. Her gauze skirt floated up at every step. So many parts of her body were wet and tingling that it drew her attention to the untouched state of her asshole and cunt. Like unopened presents, just for Delle Seyah.
Dutch angrily rejected that idea. So she’d gotten Delle Seyah’s attention. Good. That didn’t mean the bitch owned her. It just meant that Dutch had managed to turn the tables a bit, to get out of that damn molest-me field and into a preferable position. Spanking was nothing. Dutch would barely feel it, especially after her ass had already been smacked around by every other woman at the party.
“Clean and ready her for me,” Delle Seyah ordered some waiting slaves.
They sprang to work, wiping Dutch down with damp scented cloths, drying her gently, and finally running a vibrating device over her body. The device removed the lingering sting of the manhandling the women had given her. When the slaves stepped away, only memories remained of how Dutch had been treated by the guests.
Delle Seyah spread her knees, then patted her thighs. “Lie down. Brat.”
Dutch was sick of getting her collar pulled. She lay down across her enemy’s lap with her hands and feet resting on the floor. Her skirt rode up, exposing her upraised rump.
Dutch jumped, startled. She hadn’t expected Delle Seyah to start immediately, nor had she thought the first blow would be that hard. But Delle Seyah’s hand had come down with a stinging pain and a crack like a gunshot. Those strong shoulders made for hard hands. Dutch was sure that deceptively delicate-looking palm had sunk deep into her tender flesh, leaving behind a reddened handprint.
“That’s for biting the guests,” Delle Seyah murmured.
Dutch squirmed, trying to twist around so she could see. She’d endured far worse pain, so she was much more surprised than hurt. But she wanted to see what it looked like when Delle Seyah’s hand came down on her ass. Had it left a mark? A part of her hoped it had…
Another loud crack. Another sharp pain. Dutch's gasp tightened the collar around her throat, making her dizzy.
“And that’s for wriggling,” Delle Seyah said. “Lie still, brat.”
Dutch lay still. The partygoers were all standing around, ogling and pointing and cat-calling, but Dutch barely noticed them. Once again, she could smell Delle Seyah’s tangy scent. The brands of Delle Seyah’s hands were hot and stinging on her bare ass. Dutch could swear she felt every individual fingerprint. Her asshole clenched involuntarily, sending a ripple of sensation through her ass and cunt and belly. Her clit throbbed and her inner walls moistened.
If Delle Seyah was going to fuck Dutch over, the least she could do was give her a reach-around.
“Good girl,” Delle Seyah said, and stroked her bare, stinging ass. “You took your punishment like a champ. Now you may express your gratitude to your master for making it so light.”
Delle Seyah didn’t have to say what the expression of gratitude was. Dutch knew. At least, she hoped she knew. Dutch slid off Delle Seyah’s lap and knelt in front of her.
Delle Seyah undid a hidden clasp on her dress. A slit fell open, exposing her long legs, her firm thighs, and her pink cunt.
“Oh, yes,” Dutch breathed, then hurriedly shut her mouth.
It was too late. Delle Seyah’s dark eyes glinted with pleasure at having caught Dutch out. She gave a twitch of the leash, pulling Dutch’s head closer to her cunt.
“If you can’t make me come—” Delle Seyah began.
“Bitch, please,” Dutch interrupted, genuinely offended. “I could make a rock scream.”
Delle Seyah smirked. “Then let’s see what you can do with a woman.”
Dutch bent to her task. Delle Seyah was damp already, Dutch was gratified to see, her pink folds glistening and slick. All that indifference had just been a show— she had been turned on, had wanted Dutch, had been just as unfulfilled and frustrated watching Dutch as Dutch had been watching her. Her clit nestled within her soaking labia, also gleaming with moisture. Dutch took a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent of arousal. It made her head spin. She took another breath, savoring the aroma and the frustrated twitch of Delle Seyah’s thighs.
Then she did something she’d guiltily, reluctantly, angrily wanted to do ever since she’d first laid eyes on that evil bitch. Dutch lowered her head and tasted Delle Seyah’s cunt.
She’d meant to just give the slightest, most teasing flick of her tongue, to taunt Delle Seyah without satisfying her. But now that her enemy’s fragrant pink cunt was hers to use as she pleased, Dutch couldn’t resist diving right in. She gave a long, slow, deep lick, dragging her tongue along the entire length of Delle Seyah’s slick folds, savoring her tangy flavor. Delle Seyah quivered, her inner lips fluttering, her composure finally shaken. Dutch enjoyed the hell out it. At last, she’d gotten a rise out of that bitch.
Dutch found her clitoris and licked at it like a piece of candy, feeling it swell and harden under her tongue. Delle Seyah twitched and breathed harder. As Dutch alternated her attentions between Delle Seyah’s clit and her labia and her inner walls, those twitches and gasps grew more frequent and less controlled. Delle Seyah was getting wetter and wetter, her scent stronger and stronger.
Dutch too was getting wetter and wetter. Her own clit also swelled and throbbed as she drove Delle Seyah toward her orgasm, her pleasure under Dutch’s total control. She didn’t know if she was getting off more on the taste and feel of Delle Seyah, or under the delicious knowledge that she’d finally turned the tables on her. If Dutch wanted, she could get up, walk away laughing, and leave Delle Seyah tormented and unfulfilled.
But, of course, they’d made a deal. And Delle Seyah still had something Dutch wanted. So fun as it would be to prolong the moment, Dutch decided to get her off now, and enjoy knowing that she could make Delle Seyah come on cue.
Delle Seyah’s hands clenched on Dutch’s shoulders, her fingers digging in as she let out a strangled gasp. Dutch gave a final, hard lick at that swollen button. Delle Seyah’s cunt began to pulse rhythmically, and she gave a sharp cry.
“Ha!” Dutch couldn’t resist exclaiming. “Told you I could make you scream.”
She grinned as she watched Delle Seyah come, her head thrown back and her eyes closed, shuddering and trembling and gasping. Her goddamn perfect face was flushed, her skin seeming to glow with a light sheen of sweat.
Who’s the master now? Dutch thought.
As if Delle Seyah had heard her, she opened her eyes, sucked in a gulp of air, released Dutch’s shoulders, and patted a strand of escaped hair back into place.
“Now clean me up,” Delle Seyah ordered, but her breathlessness denied her cool. More firmly, she added, “With your mouth.”
Dutch was vaguely aware of the guests watching, and that she ought to be humiliated to be used like that. But swamping any embarrassment was the heat of her frustration… and once she’d licked Delle Seyah clean, maybe that sadistic bitch would fucking finally get her off.
Dutch bent over Delle Seyah’s wet cunt and lapped up every last slippery, tangy drop. When she was done, she licked her own lips clean, then looked up, eager for her own reward.
Delle Seyah reached down and carelessly tousled Dutch’s hair. “Party’s over. Nothing can top that. Come along, pet.”
Delle Seyah stood and gave the leash a twitch. Dazed, Dutch staggered to her feet. She barely noticed the hungry eyes that followed her as Delle Seyah swept out of the party, nor the ride back in the flyer. All she could think of was her own desperate need. She could barely stop herself from jamming her fingers between her own legs, right in front of Delle Seyah. In fact, the only thing that did stop her was the knowledge that nothing Dutch could do to herself could possibly satisfy her. Only Delle Seyah could do that.
Next thing she knew, they were back in Delle Seyah’s bedroom. Alone.
Dutch was practically writhing with neediness. She’d been teased all night, she’d been spanked and used and taunted… everything but satisfied. Her clit throbbed and ached, making her squirm involuntarily. But all her shifting and twitching did nothing for her, except get her a series of amused glances from her tormentor.
Delle Seyah looked thoroughly satisfied and fresh as a flower, damn her. She punched a series of numbers into the panel on her bed. A tiny drawer slid open, and she handed a data chip to Dutch. “Here’s everything you need to rescue your little friend: his location, who’s holding him, and the codes to get through the force field surrounding the asteroid and access the interior. Because I’m so thoughtful, I even included the codes to the service tunnels so you can get straight to his cell without having to fight.”
“Very thoughtful, considering you set up the entire thing.”
“Not everything,” Delle Seyah said. “The kidnappers actually do think Johnny can make them a weapon. I didn’t hire them. I just tipped them off.”
“So?” Dutch’s voice came out hoarse.
“So, I don’t control everything.” Delle Seyah held out a finger. “The codes I gave you won’t be enough to get you in unless you use them when the guards change over. That’ll be in ten hours. So if you take the chip and go now, you still won’t be doing any rescuing until tomorrow anyway. You could while away the time masturbating on Lucy, but in ten hours, you might experience some chafing.”
“Or?” Dutch managed. She wanted to make it a command, but it came out sounding like a plea.
“Or if you prefer my hands, my leather, my toys, my tongue on your clit…”
A shudder went through Dutch as she imagined that tongue, lapping away. “What do you want from me?”
Delle Seyah gave a soft, low chuckle that set Dutch’s body on fire. “What do I want? The question is, what do you want?”
A groan escaped Dutch’s lips. She knew exactly what that scheming bitch wanted: Dutch’s surrender, unconditional and of her own free will. And if Dutch didn’t want to lose her fucking mind, she’d have to give it to her.
“You. I want you. I want you to touch me. I want you to fuck me. I want you to order me around. Please! Please, Delle Seyah! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! I’m begging you!” Once she’d started begging, Dutch had to force herself to stop. The confession was its own relief, leaving her trembling. Every fiber of her being was focused on Delle Seyah, longing for her to finally, finally fuck her.
“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Delle Seyah purred. “And since you begged so nicely, you can have your reward.”
Dutch lay back on her enemy’s bed, trembling. Random muscles twitched with pent-up lust, hands clenching into fists, toes curling, breath catching. Delle Seyah stood over her, hateful and infinitely desirable. As Dutch watched, Delle Seyah turned gracefully, offering Dutch her back. Dutch reached up and tugged at a corset ribbon. She was torn between amusement and annoyance when the entire thing fell off.
“So you never needed the laces,” Dutch said.
“Of course I needed them,” Delle Seyah replied, her hand dropping from where she’d released some hidden catch. “I needed them to tease you, darling.”
Before Dutch could make a retort, Delle Seyah stepped out of her long skirt. She stood nude and with her back turned, while Dutch gazed her fill at the sculptured curves of her back, her firm ass, and her legs that went up forever.
Then she turned, letting Dutch see her entire body. It was worth seeing. Dutch stared, entranced, at the slim length of Delle Seyah’s body, the ripeness of breasts the perfect size to fit into Dutch’s hands, the pink-brown of her hardening nipples, the soft curve of her belly, the elegant sculpture of her pelvis, the luscious cunt nestled between her graceful legs. Every bit of her was everything Dutch had ever imagined, and more.
Delle Seyah stood straight and arrogant, watching Dutch watch her. Then she pounced like a cat, pinning Dutch to the bed with her hands on Dutch’s shoulders. Experimentally, Dutch struggled, just to see how strong Delle Seyah was. She wasn’t as strong as Dutch, of course, but the promise of her shoulders proved good. Dutch had to exert some genuine effort just to dislodge one of Delle Seyah’s hands, only to have the woman bend her head and bite Dutch hard on the side of her neck. Dutch yelped.
While Dutch was distracted, Delle Seyah caught her wrist and shoved it against the bedpost. With a quick snap and click, she handcuffed it.
“I knew you had kinky sex toys hidden somewhere,” Dutch said.
“Darling, you haven’t seen anything kinky yet,” Delle Seyah said, and cuffed her other wrist. Then, with Dutch unable to resist, she slipped off her gauze skirt, then cuffed both her ankles to the bedposts.
Now Dutch was spread-eagled across the bed, caught tight with Delle Seyah kneeling over her. Delle Seyah unsnapped the leash and tossed it to the floor. Her fingers hovered over the collar, as if she was going to take it off, but instead she reached down and tightened it a notch, making Dutch have to work a little harder for each breath. Dutch couldn't tell if her dizzy, floaty feeling was from oxygen deprivation or from something else entirely. She squirmed, feeling the slippery heat between her legs gathering, then overflowing to wet her thighs. What was Delle Seyah going to do with her?
Dutch lay panting as she watched Delle Seyah lean over her, her breasts dangling almost but not quite within reach of Dutch’s mouth, to check that the handcuffs were secure. Those sweet globes hung down, swinging slightly, the nipples plump and just begging for a lick. Dutch strained against her bonds, lifting her head and shoulders off the mattress, but Delle Seyah moved just a fraction over, leaving Dutch tasting nothing but air. That fucking tease!
"Come on," Dutch begged. It was easier the second time. "Let me have a taste. I'm good with my mouth, you know."
"You are indeed. And I do like hearing you beg. Lie back down, and you can have your reward. Pet."
Dutch let herself sink into that decadent mattress, which was so soft that it was both a comfort and a trap: once you let your full weight down, it sank until it was hard to rise again.
"Like a fly in a web," Delle Seyah remarked. Then she lowered herself over Dutch, enveloping her with the tart spice of her perfume and the radiant heat of her body.
Without having to lift her head at all, Dutch opened her mouth and let Delle Seyah's left nipple pop into her mouth, like her enemy was feeding her grapes from a vine. Dutch sucked on it luxuriously, rolling it with her tongue and feeling it swell and harden inside her mouth. It was every bit as delicious as she'd imagined, tasting of nothing but Delle Seyah's own body and the slight salt of her sweat. Dutch lay back, letting Delle Seyah dictate what she had access to: her left nipple, then her right. Then she lowered both her breasts over Dutch's face, allowing her to lick and nibble and nuzzle at every inch of their smooth skin and resilient curves.
Delle Seyah pushed her cleavage together with her elbows, smothering Dutch with her breasts. At the same moment, she reached down with one hand to tighten her collar as well. Dizzy, half-delirious, Dutch made no move to escape, but let her enemy control everything, her pleasure, her very air.
Then Delle Seyah released her and reached down to the side of the bed, leaving Dutch gasping, her head swimming. There was a faint mechanical whirr. A second later, she whipped a blindfold over Dutch's eyes.
Dutch let out an involuntary whimper of disappointment. She’d been enjoying the sight of Delle Seyah's luscious flesh. It was silenced when a pillow was shoved under her lower back, lifting her ass. After all the attention that had been paid to it at the party, Dutch would have been disappointed if it had been neglected at the end.
Dutch forgot about vision and abandoned herself to her other senses, listening to Delle Seyah’s quickened breathing, inhaling her musky scent, and feeling her body heat as the woman moved around her. Then a hand caught Dutch’s ass, spreading her cheeks, and a slick finger probed at her hole. Dutch relaxed, excited but wanting to open to it. Delle Seyah’s slim finger penetrated her, sliding all the way in and stroking Dutch’s sensitive inner walls. Then it slid out, only to be replaced by something else, also slick but much larger. A dildo. Delle Seyah worked it in, filling and stretching Dutch as she relaxed around it. Then Dutch jumped, startled, as it began to vibrate.
Delle Seyah’s chuckle made her body quiver against Dutch’s. “Something new?”
“Well… Yeah, a vibrator is new in there,” Dutch admitted, and heard Delle Seyah chuckle again.
As the dildo continued to vibrate, she heard a rustle and smelled a sharp odor, presumably Delle Seyah cleaning her hands. The vibration was strange at first, but quickly became pleasurable. Then taunting. Then maddening. She could feel those vibrations through her whole body. Dutch felt her cunt begin to pulse and her clit to throb, desperate for release. But they weren’t quite strong enough to make her come all by themselves. Dutch writhed, moaning helplessly, but was caught by the handcuffs. Where the hell was Delle Seyah?
Something wet and warm touched her lips. Dutch opened her mouth, and once again tasted the slippery tang of Delle Seyah’s cunt.
Delle Seyah was sitting on Dutch’s face.
Dutch gasped, then eagerly breathed in Delle Seyah’s scent and licked at her. As she did, strong thighs closed over the sides of her head, holding her in place. And a hot tongue began to lap its way downward.
Every bit of Dutch’s body and senses were filled with pleasure— and Delle Seyah. Her wrists and ankles were circled and her entire body was restrained by Delle Seyah’s handcuffs. Delle Seyah’s soft bed and velvet cover was voluptuous against the bare skin of her back. She could taste and touch and smell Delle Seyah’s cunt. Delle Seyah’s dildo vibrated harder and faster up her ass. Delle Seyah’s legs gripped Dutch’s head. And Delle Seyah’s tongue was in Dutch’s cunt at last, licking and nipping and sucking, sending wave after wave of electric bliss through her body.
Dutch’s entire body yearned toward her long-delayed orgasm. Delle Seyah lapped at Dutch’s clit, her wet tongue making Dutch shudder helplessly, then worked her lips around it and sucked. With that, Dutch came so hard, she nearly blacked out. She faintly heard herself scream, but mostly she didn’t hear or see anything at all. Dutch was lost in an explosion of pleasure that took her right out of her body, and seemed to go on and on.
When her senses finally faded back in, she found herself in a limp, sweaty, delicious sprawl on the bed. Delle Seyah sat nearby, also sweaty and disheveled, her hair falling in loose locks over the shoulder of a lacy negligee.
Dutch was still naked. Her throat felt bare, and she put up a hand to it. When she touched only wet skin, she realized what she was missing. Apparently Delle Seyah had unlocked the handcuffs and removed the vibrator and collar while Dutch had been lost to the world.
Too bad, Dutch thought lazily. I might have enjoyed that…
“Missing something?” Delle Seyah purred.
“A partner,” Dutch snapped, coming to her senses. “And if you use him again to get me, I will fucking kill you.”
“Or you’ll just fuck me,” her enemy said sweetly.
“Not a chance!” Dutch flung her clothes on as fast as she could. As she started to head for the door, a hand caught her sleeve.
When she turned, Delle Seyah pressed the collar into her hand. “A souvenir.”
Dutch’s fingers closed over it before she could stop herself. Then she bolted out the door, still clutching it.
All the way back to Lucy, she felt like the collar’s smooth edges were permanently marking her palm. Like the bruises and scratches and bites and sore spots where her hair had been pulled, like the remembered wetness and heat of Delle Seyah’s mouth and the smooth touch of Delle Seyah’s fingers, the touch of the collar was its own souvenir. Every inch of her body burned with memory.
She barely managed to remember to stuff the collar into her shirt before she got within range of Lucy’s sensors. She never intended to tell Johnny how she’d really rescued him, and Lucy and Johnny were like old gossips leaning over a fence to whisper and snicker to each other.
“Are we going to get Johnny now?” Lucy asked anxiously as Dutch boarded.
“Not just yet. But I know where he is.” Dutch brandished the data chip. “We can collect him first thing in the morning, when the codes I got start working.”
She went to her cabin and started to take off her blouse. Her fingers touched leather. She held it in both hands, captured by the memory of how it had felt around her throat. How it had felt to be Delle Seyah’s slave…
Then she came to her senses and crammed the collar under the mattress, feeling like a child caught with her hand in the sweet jar. Dutch told herself that she was just putting it somewhere convenient where she wouldn’t have to explain what it was. It certainly wasn’t so she could take it out later to spark memories, or fantasize about, or wore while she touched herself, or wore to call and tease that sexy bitch…
Dutch slept unusually, embarrassingly well. Lucy had to wake her up the next morning. Dutch put on pants and a tank top, then saw a selection of hard-to-explain nips and bruises on her arms. She threw on a jacket, then went to rescue Johnny.
Just as Delle Seyah had promised, the codes got Dutch access to Johnny’s cell without encountering any guards. To her relief, he lay peacefully asleep on a cot, completely unharmed.
“Johnny,” Dutch whispered. “Up and at ‘em!”
He woke and smiled up at her. “What took you so long? Having fun without me?”
“Absolutely,” Dutch said coolly. “I heard you’d been kidnapped, so I had a girls night out.”
Johnny laughed. Then he peered at her neck and frowned. “Is that a bite? Guess these assholes were better fighters than I thought. I’m sorry, Dutch. It must’ve been rough.”
Dutch yanked up her collar to conceal the marks of Delle Seyah’s sharp teeth. “You have no idea.”