Taking Flight (16 page)

Placing the plate on her lap, she picked up her knife and fork and greedily ate every morsel. Wondering how long it would be before the tiny woman came back to collect the empties, Deborah laid back to try and conserve her energy for the great breakout.

This time, as Deborah reached down, thoughts of running to her freedom, to her Marcus, became the backdrop to her pleasure. As she took herself in her cupped hands, she came quickly and purely with Marcus’s words from the forest reverberating around her soul.
I’ll find you. I’ll find you at the meeting point. Do everything you can to come. We are more than the physical.
She tripped in that orgasmic place all light and breath and, for the briefest of moments, she thought she could sense him. Spinning around in herself, she tried to capture a glimpse but as she came to, it was only the fleeting shadow of a bird breaking up the sun’s rays that she saw.

The sheets were soft and warm from the lazy morning sun, and she tried not to be disappointed that she hadn’t meet Marcus but contented herself with the knowledge that somewhere, in the distance, he had been there. She’d felt it.

A loud, clunking noise disturbed her reverie and Deborah’s senses were suddenly on full alert. The trolley. The tiny dinner lady was coming back for the empty plates. The sound of crockery and doors opening and closing lifted Deborah’s spirit and she sprang up, poised and ready to blast her way past.

A soft knock signaled her arrival, then the key turned and, painfully slowly, the door opened. Deborah couldn’t wait. She shoved with all her might and roared past the startled woman and straight into the arms of a burly guard. Her head was quickly clamped into the guard’s ample bosom and Deborah struggled chaotically, trying to break free. A low chuckle came from the fleshy cushions and Deborah went slack.

“I told them you was no different,” came the voice to match the stature. “They all said you was good and behaved, but you’re all the same. All of you see little Judy and think you can just push her about. Don’t they, Jude?”

Deborah pried her face out of the bosoms and saw the wizened Judy’s face nodding with big owl eyes.

“Sorry, Judy,” Deborah felt compelled to say. “It’s just that I shouldn’t be here, you know?”

“They all say that.” The guard laughed but with no malice, just amusement. “Come on, in you get. You’ll be busy soon enough with chores and work. You’ll soon forget all about escaping. Won’t she, Jude?”

The odd little Judy made the exact same motion as before, her huge eyes remaining fixed on Deborah’s as her head slowly nodded up and down. She scurried into the cell and grabbed the dirty plates while the guard brushed Deborah down before pushing her back through the door and locking it.

Later, as the sun slowly slipped out of her view, Deborah pulled the blankets over her with thoughts of Judy flipping over in her mind. The way the guard had remarked about forgetting escape made Deborah wonder if Judy had started as an inmate, and if so, just how long had she been there.

She let her eyelids fall shut on her first day as a prisoner in the facility.

Chapter 16

It had been almost a month since Marcus had been separated from his love and he’d managed to heal his physical injuries well. He felt strong, capable, despite his broken heart. Waking to the familiar sound of the morning alarm horn, he washed and dressed at the bathroom area of his quarters. If he didn’t think too much about Deborah, being a prisoner in this particular pleasure farm wasn’t bad at all. After all, how long had he been held captive in his own home, albeit by his own decision? He was allowed to explore the beautiful grounds, eat exceptional food, and fuck as many women as he could every day.

“Come on, 832.” The voice of his personal guard, Katja, hurried him along. “We’ve got them lining up already for you.” A small giggle punctuated her words and Marcus smiled. He had grown fond of Katja, who seemed very sympathetic to the loss of his love—something they shared in common, as her fiancé had been taken away many months before.

He dried himself off and checked his appearance before making his way to the door. “Ready,” he said, and Katja unlocked his cell. They walked together to the pleasure room, at ease in each other’s company.

“Don’t you ever get tired of this?” Katja asked in a low tone just as they were almost at the room. “Don’t you ever just want to get out of here and find her?” Marcus saw a flash of anger cross her face that didn’t match her soft voice. “How can you fuck all these selfish bitches when you have a true love waiting for you somewhere?”

Marcus took her hand and squeezed it softly. “I am looking for her, I am, and when I find where she is, nothing will stop me from going to her. And don’t you worry, you’ll find your love again.” He lifted her face and gently kissed away the tears which had slipped down her cheeks. As he opened the door of the chamber to see his first client of the day, he imagined how strange it must look to anyone who didn’t or couldn’t understand his plan.

The woman waiting for him was beautiful. A red velvet cloak was wrapped luxuriously around her bare shoulders and one gleaming leg was slung languidly off the edge of the chaise longue.

“Well, hello,” she purred, her eyes smoky with arousal already. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good, I hope.” Marcus slid the belt out from his robe, letting it fall to the floor.

“Of course. Why else would we ladies have a two-week wait for an appointment with Crester’s newest arrival?”

Crester Pleasure Farm was where all the wealthy and important ladies of the land came to be serviced. The benefits were twofold—selected women were given orgasm after orgasm for a substantial arranged fee, while for a smaller payment, ladies could come to the adjacent oxytocin bars where sexual pheromones were piped from the pleasure rooms. It was an elite industry. Because of the decline in males, these bars were now commanding the highest prices for their pheromones.

It couldn’t have been better for Marcus; he could continue his search for Deborah by slipping into the meeting point three, four, five times a day. If he hadn’t almost seen her on the very first day he’d been here, he probably wouldn’t have been so enthusiastic, but he had caught a glimpse. He’d been sure of that. She’d been there, he’d sensed and seen her, but it was only for the briefest second. And so now he was on a quest to find her again and ask where she was held. Then he’d make his escape.

But for now, he was fast gaining a reputation for being compliant with the guards and governors and excellent at giving the clients exactly what they came for...many times over. Privileges were already coming his way, with extra food, a bigger room and, most importantly, longer walks in the gardens—unchaperoned at times too. Perfect for finding escape routes and making plans.

Marcus ran his gaze from the woman’s feet to her calves, then thighs. She noticed and shifted her buttocks to give him an eyeful of her delightful bush with pouting red lips that glistened already with the dewy haze of want.
This won’t take long
, he mused, and fell to his knees in front of her. He inhaled her musk briefly before slinking down to kiss her legs from the ankles up. He found the sweet spot behind her knee where the silky salt gathered and gave itself up to his lapping.

The woman squirmed, opened her legs further, and reached her fingers into his hair, pulling him up toward her pussy. Marcus obliged and engulfed her entire sex in his mouth, feasting on the liquid desire pulsing from this stranger. He twisted two fingers right up inside her and stroked roughly at her g-spot, coaxing a writhing tremor from deep inside. He stopped and withdrew, sliding up her body to her chest, casting off the velveteen robe and sinking his teeth into her beautiful rising breasts. Taking one puckering nipple between his teeth, he nibbled, gently rolling the other between finger and thumb. The woman groaned from deep within her throat and ground her hips into the chaise longue.

“Will you fuck me?” she asked in a breathy whisper as Marcus began to suckle her ferociously.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked between muffled mouthfuls.

“Oh yes, yes,” she squealed as Marcus stood up before her to reveal his shining, hard cock just at her eye level. “But let me taste you first.”

Marcus let his head fall back as the woman sank onto his aching cock. He closed his eyes and zoned in, letting darkness fall around him while he pinpointed his search. She was good. Her powerful cheeks and tongue worked him hard, and he rode the waves of pleasure she was creating with her rhythm. Teeth and lips joined the action, and Marcus took his place at the base of his cock where the surging began. The high-pitched mewl of orgasm racked his body and he started to shudder. He tried to snap himself back into reality but the lure of the climax was pulling him in deep. The meeting point was close, he could feel it shrouding him in waves, and he flailed frantically, trying to find Deborah among the darkness. A faint voice sent shivers through him and a slap ricocheted through his soul.

“Hey, don’t lose control now,” the woman shouted, and cold air surrounded his cock where she’d released him. Marcus snapped back into reality and was grateful to realize he hadn’t come yet. He’d been so close.

“Sorry.” He tried to cool the blush that heated his face and neck. “Clients don’t usually, you know…” He smiled, trying to make the woman feel like she had a talent that made her special. It worked. The seductive look returned and she sank back into her chair, stretching her legs apart provocatively.

“Well, maybe I’ll treat you again later, but first…” She lifted her pussy off the cushions, inviting Marcus in once more. “I want what I paid for.”

Marcus knelt down and fell onto her ripe sex, fucking her with his mouth and fingers. Within seconds, she convulsed around him. Marcus smiled to himself as she grabbed his head with her fists and thighs, shrieking in complete abandon. He knew she’d be angry—she’d wanted to be fucked to orgasm, not just fingered and sucked like she could with her female lovers—but he also knew sex was more intense after a woman had come.

Before she could complain, he pried himself free from her grip and flipped her over, forcing her face down into the cushions while her delicious rump was exposed to perfection. He took up position behind her and rammed his cock deep into her dripping, satisfied pussy. She clenched around him and he held her hips while he watched his cock tug at the folds of juicy skin as he withdrew, making ready for another dive.

Groaning, she pushed her ass out hungrily, trying to get him to stay inside. Her pussy was so hot and wet with desire that it reminded him of the day with Deborah when they’d fucked on the forest floor watching Birch and Hazel. Suddenly, he was angry with this woman for using him while he was captive. The shock and reality of his situation took over and he leaned in over the woman’s back and grabbed a handful of hair to get better purchase, then slammed as hard as he could into her wanton sex.

“Yes, yes! That’s it, fuck me, fuck me hard!” she screamed like a madwoman into the chaise longue.

Marcus pummeled her ferociously, trying to conjure the image of Deborah in his mind’s eye. Gritting his teeth hard and squeezing his eyes closed, he held on tight to the woman’s hair and ass cheek while he fucked himself into the oblivion of the search for his love. Sweat drizzled down his back and he stormed around in his head, screaming his lover’s name while thrusting inside this woman who meant nothing to him.

The surge took over once more; in the distance, the pinprick of light began to grow and swell, flickering like a mirage. His balls tightened and the woman reached up and under them both and squeezed them, running a long, cool nail over his perineum. The light expanded until it was he who was the pinprick in the distance, lost and calling, but just for the briefest of seconds, then he came. He shuddered and shot all his energy and lust right up into the woman who still held his balls in her palms, milking him, clutching on to him with every part of her.

Marcus couldn’t take it and quickly released her, almost pushing her down onto the chaise longue. Grabbing his robe and belt from the floor, he fled to the curtain that was the only privacy afforded to him in the pleasure chamber. Here he would wait, panting and shaking, until his next visitor. His belt had fallen just short of his sanctuary and he leaned out to pick it up, catching a glimpse of the woman he’d just fucked. Her hair stuck to her face and neck where sweat flushed her skin. Their gazes met for a brief second and she lazily blinked, drawing her cloak around her.

Marcus retreated behind his curtain as she made ready to leave.

“I’ll recommend you,” she said matter-of-factly, then was gone.

Marcus felt depleted, used and forlorn. There had been nothing there. Nothing. And if he was honest with himself, he’d never felt Deborah’s presence apart from once, and even then, it was only very faint. What was he doing there, relying on something that was really only a theory—not even a theory, just a stupid idea made up in the desperation of a fleeting moment? There was no such thing as ultimate unity or the meeting point. It was ridiculous. For the first time in a long time, Marcus put his head in his hands and cried.

Chapter 17

Being woken at dawn had never filled Deborah with joy. She used to work long hours on her research but always into the evening, rather than getting up early to make the most of the morning.

“Do you have to clatter on every bloody door in this place?” she wailed, covering her head with her pillow, trying to block out the wake-up call. “I heard you at the fucking first cell!”

But the banging and rattling continued until it was accompanied by the protesting voices of the other inmates.
What a dawn chorus
, Deborah thought, and the words shot her back into the gleaming rays of first light in the forest. Her heart quavered for a second but she gave herself a shake. She would not give in to self-pity and dressed quickly in the stiff cotton tunic, a woolen shawl wrapped around her shoulders to keep the chill from her neck, and thick socks under leather sandals. Of course, to make matters worse, Deborah was so small that these clothes drowned her, making her feel like an old peddler woman, not a research scientist.