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
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
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