Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [53]
He flinched when Aleta first took her glass-handled whip to his thighs and arms but within a few strokes the hurting became a pleasure he could hardly bear.
She chose that moment to stop and sit astride his thighs. With confident movements she began to ride him, whipping across his legs with one hand and administering tiny electric shocks with the other.
The combination sent him towards climax but she saw, and slowed, speaking sternly to him again.
‘Control yourself, young man. You will wait until you are told.’
He heard her and tried valiantly to obey her, but the pressure in his groin had built beyond anything he had ever felt before. With shouts of ecstasy, he thrust upward into her, only dimly aware of her satisfied smile.
Afterwards, she released his bonds and lay next to him. Thales rolled on his side, curling against her. He had never felt such peace. Never been so whole. His body felt awash with happiness.
Aleta lay with him for a time in silence. Then, as if an internal timer had alerted her, she got up and slipped on her gown.
‘You are permitted some extra time to wash and dress. The valet will see you out. Please feel free to recommend my services,’ she said.
Thales sat up. ‘Aleta,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Please ... I must see you again.’
She smiled, soft and gracious. ‘That would be lovely, Thales. But be warned, I am very expensive.’
‘No ... I mean...outside this...’ He waved his hands, not knowing how to express himself.
The sweetness left her face, and her expression hardened. She clicked her fingers and the doorman appeared so quickly that Thales wondered if he’d been in the room somewhere.
In the moments that it took him to locate his clothes on the floor, Aleta had gone.
The doorman folded his arms. ‘You have six minutes remaining. If you exceed the time limit, you will be charged.’
Embarrassed and angry, Thales quickly pulled his clothes on.
The valet showed him back along the arcing corridor and out into the first waiting room, where a fresh load of clients waited with anticipation.
Aleta entered through another door.
He raised his hand in greeting but she walked past him without acknowledgement - without noticing him at all - and approached an older man with thick features and only a little hair.
She knelt before the man and laid her cheek against his knee in the way she had schooled Thales to do only a short time before.
Unable to contain his disgust, Thales walked out the door.
TEKTON
The Lamin did not offer to help Tekton from the floor. In fact it had already seated itself and was grooming its armpits.
Tekton got to his feet, drawing on a lifetime of aplomb to preserve his dignity. Not that anyone was watching him. In fact the Lamin and he were the only ones in the unimposing, strangely appointed prayer room.
Tekton looked around.
It was not a spiritually imbued place, in the manner of the millions of chapels spread across Orion, and neither did it have the usual other-worldly sense of quiet and eeriness. The decor suited a comfortable lounge that might be found on any moderately luxurious passenger ship. In fact, if not for the different colour schemes and unusual icons impregnating the suede walls, it could have been an exact replica of a lounge on The Last Aesthetic. Perhaps the whole room had been retrieved from a disbanded passenger ship?
Two long bench seats ran the length of the room divided by an equally long, low table which ended in front of a shrine. Ledges were inset into the padded walls behind the seats, and dotted with statues and objets d’art; almost as if the icons were set there to peer over the shoulders of those that sat reclining. Beautifully crafted melon-coloured matting softened the floor beneath his feet.
Tekton made his way past the Lamin to sit at the far end of one bench seat, near the shrine. The simply moulded, geometric shrine alcove housed a square black box. He bent his head and went through the pretence of prayer while he gave the box a subtle but intense scrutiny.
Despite