Taking Flight (26 page)

Della had heard of the oxytocin bars where you could inhale the pheromones from the intercourse you couldn’t afford. Then there were the musk bars where you could inhale the smell of the men getting ready for their time making the oxytocin you couldn’t afford while having the intercourse you couldn’t afford. Then there were women like Della, who could only just afford the memory of a male.

Saliva began to form at the back corner of her tongue and pool in her gums as she breathed in deeply, craving the scent. It was a feral reaction when the ache came over her. Her whole body yearned for just one little hint in the air of her natural counterpart.

Looking shiftily around the room, Della scurried to the safe where all the most sensitive documents were kept. That, and her prized treasure. Tucked at the very back, out of sight, was a zip-sealed plastic bag with a worn out rag inside. Della brought it out, feeling guilt at her weakness, but she needed to, just this once. Carefully, she opened the bag and lifted it to her face. Sealing it around her nose and mouth, she inhaled. It took a second or two, and for an instant she thought it might be gone, but there it was—only a hint, but it was there.

She knew she shouldn’t have kept it. Tears fell over the plastic and she slumped to the ground with her back against the wall, clutching it tight. It was such a self-destructive addiction to want to breathe in an absent lover. The craving dissolved until only the ache was left. Della reluctantly took the bag away from her face and resealed it as tightly as she could, squeezing out the air to try and keep the last hints of him inside.

She wiped away her tears and snapped back into governor mode. Self-pity would never do, especially now that she had a plan which, if it worked, meant she might be able to go to one of those farms one day. He might even be there.

* * * *

Deborah was ready and waiting, and Katja didn’t even need to be told where to go. She came in, pulled her newly acquired tunic over her head, and dropped it to the floor on the way past, taking her place on the suede bench. Deborah was actually quite miffed at the presumptive way in which it was done and she was about to make Katja leave and come back in again, but her impatience to find Marcus at the meeting point was too great.

“Eager,” said Deborah in what she hoped was a dismissive tone.

“I just want out of here, ma’am.”

“Very well.” Deborah opened the bottom drawer this time, knowing exactly what she’d find there after another tidying session that morning. The woven leather handle felt weighty and solid, but the long tassels were airy and soft as she trailed them across one palm, letting them fall one by one until they swayed and dangled just out of sight of the naked woman spread out on the bench.

Deborah raised her face skyward and closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in and preparing herself. She smiled and looked back down at the full backside that was presented to her. Lifting her arm high, she heard the air split as she flicked her wrist and brought the leather tendrils down hard onto Katja’s flesh, who jerked forward, tensing up. She watched the woman’s knuckles whiten as they gripped the suede at the other end of the bench.

Red lines flared over Katja’s rear and Deborah had to stop herself from asking if she was okay. Hovering her palm over the welts to feel the heat radiating already, Deborah quickly slipped her fingers down between the woman’s thighs, nudging them apart to feel whether she had truly enjoyed it. Bringing out a thoroughly sodden digit, her own dampness spread with the presence of the obvious arousal. Deborah felt herself begin to detach from her body and quickly thrashed the woman some more to build her want.

The sound of the smacking retreated as Deborah spread her pussy lips wide with her other hand. Yes, she was ready, ready to spin out of this reality and meet her lover. She bent her knees a little and slid her middle finger deep inside herself, undulating her clitoris onto her palm. With one last look at the red-raw rump of her prisoner, Deborah’s eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled up as she flew into the beyond.

“Marcus!” No sooner had she formed his name than a seismic blast tore through her being and he was in her.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.” They twisted and turned and mingled in each other’s bodies, both physical and spiritual.

“I missed you so much,” she gasped as something huge slipped in between her legs and overtook her. She suddenly felt tiny as he engulfed her both inside and out. His cock was a thick column of lust and he fucked and rammed her hard, as if he needed to own her—to believe they were actually there, together.

She felt like a rag doll being tossed in a blanket and she surrendered to the joy of being completely under his control.

He held her legs open and wide and carried her on his forearms as he humped and she rode him. All the desire in the world seemed to converge at this point in time and space, and all at once they were everything. Marcus and Deborah were the world, the universe, light itself.

“I love you.” The very space around them seemed to gasp the words as they slipped and slid in each other.

Deborah’s cunt sucked and heaved as he plundered her, devouring her flesh with his lips and tongue, and she kissed back, catching him in her teeth, trying to keep him inside forever. His cock crashed and forced out and in and she met him thrust for thrust, juices spilling and spraying from her utter abandonment. Her bud was engorged and peaking, ready to explode, and he shifted position, pulling his arms out from under her and reaching around to grab her ass and pull her into him while he drove his cock deeper and deeper. The base of his shaft met her aching clit and he slowly wound his hips, keeping firmly inside while his pubic bone ground against it.

“Oh, Marcus.” Deborah heard the groan come from the inside of her heart as she began to shudder around him. The wave of pleasure welled, threatening to break but still spiraling, and Deborah panicked as a surge pulsed through his cock, still deep inside her. She thought she’d miss him and her breathing paused. He grasped her attention with his stare and they locked eyes.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “We’re both here.” Then his face contorted in ecstasy and his nails dug into the flesh on her ass, and she thought she would split in two with the explosive force of his climax. She rode the eruption and went to jelly as stars grew and exploded inside her. She clenched his body in her thighs and let all tension go as she came hard over him like a feral creature made of pure lust. They sank together, still locked together in a spiritual embrace.

“I’ll never leave.”

“Neither will I.”

Everything stilled and slowed until even the sound of their breathing ceased.

Chapter 26

“So, Katja.” Della eyed the inmate up and down. She’d never met such an obedient subject in her life. “It seems you have passed your correction already.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” The voice was meek and submissive yet Della sensed a real determination.

Yes, this woman and Deborah Regan had proved her theory on punishment. Della was ecstatic and could have leaped on the woman for a victory fuck but managed to contain herself. Everything had to be aboveboard—she had to appear squeaky clean, as it were. She would have to content herself with the memory of snatched glimpses through the peephole.

Deborah really had played her part to perfection and so convincingly. It was as though she was in a trance of domination and Della could not believe her luck—or was it genius?—in choosing her as the corrector.

“The transporter will be here for you presently,” Della said while retreating behind her desk to sign off the last few papers. Head still down, she absently asked the woman a question. “Tell me, prisoner, why were you so keen to get out of this place?”

Katja shifted on her heels as if deciding whether to answer or not. “I owe someone something, that’s all. I need to pay them what I’m due.”

“Guilt is a powerful motivator.”

“Perhaps.”

“Is that all?” the governor asked, suspecting that it wasn’t.

“Well, if I can get out of here, I can tell this person that it is possible for others to do the same.”

“Oh, how interesting.” Della smiled and handed the papers to Jane who opened the door to take Katja to the transporter. “Give these to the driver, Jane—she’ll know what to do.”

“Okay,” said Jane gruffly as she manhandled Katja out of the office.

“And I’ll let Doctor Regan know we’ve had our first success story.”

Katja froze in her tracks and tried to shrug off Jane’s grip. “Wait, who?”

“Deborah Regan, you know, the one who’s been thrashing you red raw for the past few weeks.” Della went back to her paperwork and dismissed the women with a wave.

“She’s Deborah Regan?” Katja’s face paled in horror in the moment before Jane dragged her away and the door slammed shut.

Della heard the scuffling recede, then shrugged and got back to her paperwork. Katja must have read about Deborah in the newspaper somewhere along the line, she reasoned. Well, at least she’d have some gossip to share wherever she was going to.

Della carefully stored her files away in the safe. She didn’t want anything to happen to this research. If recent events were anything to go by, the program was destined to become a huge success. She smiled and let herself daydream of taking her place among the Archmatria and other elite of the land.

* * * *

“Snap out of it!” A sharp slap on the cheek brought Marcus to his senses. Two women were standing over him, looking crazed with lustful fulfillment. They took their gaze away from him as one addressed the other. “I told you he was a good submissive.”

“The best I’ve ever used.”

Marcus searched his memory for what might have happened between the three of them, but could only slip into the vision of being with Deborah at the meeting point, making love to each other with their very souls. He took in a long breath and sighed it out in deep satisfaction. As he stretched his arms up, pain seared across his back where the skin moved over the sheets. He’d been thrashed well today. Somewhere in his mind, he’d known it while he was with Deborah. The more intense the sensation in the physical world, the more intense it was in the metaphysical, and Marcus was grateful for every sting.

The woman pulled him gently to a sitting position and began to bathe his wounded flesh with soothing gels and lotions.

“You really are quite astonishing at this.” One of the women leaned in and kissed him on the neck in what appeared to be gratitude. It occurred to Marcus that it was he who should be grateful. “Have you no pain barrier?”

Marcus smiled sadly to himself. He’d borne the greatest pain imaginable throughout these past few months—nothing else could come close to that.
When you’ve suffered the pain of a broken heart, you can take anything.
He almost said the words aloud, but quickly stopped them. He had to make sure he never became the object of their pity—or they might go easy on him, and that would jeopardize everything.

“I guess not,” he uttered casually as they finished and started to gather their things. “When are you coming back?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager.

The women looked at each other.

“Well, it’s quite an expensive pastime, you know, coming to the farm’s finest.”

They smiled and gave him no clue as to whether they’d be back at all. It was fine; most of the woman who’d come to him had sent him into ultimate unity quickly and easily. It was just that it had been utterly absorbing this time.

He heard the door softy close, with the turn of the key just audible over the chattering and clacking of heels.

Lying back on his bed, Marcus took his soft cock in his hand and conjured the sensation of Deborah shuddering and quivering all around and through him.

* * * *

Deborah peeled off the corset and hung it carefully in the wardrobe. She felt bereft. Devastated.

The governor had come in earlier and excitedly told her that the correction had been a success and Katja was being released. When Deborah had given no reaction, she’d looked crestfallen and left quickly.

The black rhinestones felt jagged and rough under her fingertips as she smoothed the creases of the hanging garment, using it as a distraction from her feelings.

The vision of her future rolled out before her—a stream of women to punish and send on their way. But who would send Deborah on her way? Who would free her of this place?

And what if none of the other inmates sent her to the meeting point? Deborah still held the belief that her success had more to do with Katja than she knew.
Chemistry and biology are very powerful things
, she mused, recalling her days bent over Petri dishes and microscopes.

What did it matter now? Humans, it seemed, reveled in their own demise. Even when the cure was with them, corruption and power stole hope from the masses and kept it for themselves. Deborah felt bitter with helplessness.

She went through to the lab and started tidying away the useless equipment. Something caught her eye and she looked out onto the courtyard below. Katja was being led away by one of the more kindly guards. It was a cold day and Deborah was almost touched when she saw the guard place something around the young woman’s shoulders. Deborah leaned in, pressing her forehead hard against the glass. It was a fur. She scrabbled up onto the windowsill and peered out to where her fox pelt should have laid.

Gone.

Suddenly fierce with possessiveness, Deborah shoved open the window and started shouting out and banging on the glass.

The two women turned and looked up in confusion to where Deborah was yelling.

“That’s mine, that’s mine. Stop!”

The guard paused for the briefest moment before continuing her journey. It looked like Katja would ignore her too until Deborah shouted once more.

“Katja!”

The woman spun around, eyes searching wildly for Deborah, who waved frantically, stretching her arms out of the window.

“Katja, that’s mine, leave it.” Deborah knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t help it. Her symbol of freedom and hope was leaving through the gates without her.