… … …
Nero was immensely pleased with his pet's performance thus far. He had wanted a challenge, but he could never have dreamed she would put up this much of a fight. She was perfect—beautiful, energetic, clever and strong…how lovely she would look on a leash, tamed, kneeling at his feet. The thought of it made his blood rush.
And now here she was, crumbling before his very eyes, the drug taking its toll on her naked, lifeless form. Eventually, he would not need the drug to inspire admiration and obedience. He had seen the slow, painful turn from rebellion to worship before, but never before had it been so breath-taking. She was truly worthy of her reputation, and Nero congratulated himself on his choice of pet.
Dalia's breath started to come easier, softer, and Nero shooed his gaping thugs from the room. I bet they'd love to see what I have in store for you, my pet, but they will have to wait their turns.
As the pain subsided and Dahlia awakened to the full effect of the drug, Nero lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He was relieved to find her accommodating, but the dewy-eyed look she gave him as he laid her down was almost too much for him to handle.
Tonight, you are all mine.
… … …
After nearly giving both Mick and Ralph stress strokes, Boone finally had his newly-faked passport in hand. The print was immaculate, the coding seemed spot-on—now to see if the Vegas Securitrons bought the ruse. And if they don't? a small voice in the back of his head asked.
Then I draw my rifle and sic Rex on the bots until I get in those damned gates.
But the Securitron scanned it and stamped it. Easy. The gates began to screech open, slowly revealing the glowing steeples and neon cathedrals of Vegas. But Boone was not there for sightseeing. He made a mental checklist as he entered the city: Get stealthier weapons. He couldn't exactly waltz into the casino with his rifle on his back. Check out Gommarah. Look for entrances, exits, allies and enemies. Figure out how to get a disguise. Ask around about slaves, new girls in Gommarah.
He took a deep breath and bent down to scratch Rex behind the ears. Now comes the hard part.
… … …
Eyes flicking periodically over Dahlia's almost naked body, Nero set his bag of tools on the bedside table. He was known to have a rare collection of pre- and post- war sexual devices, but he liked to keep the first time fairly basic. Instead of any of his multitudes of toys, he brought out his personalized branding iron and put it carefully in the embers of the fire so that it would heat, but not melt. The metal rod had the word "Gomorrah" written on the end with curvy script. Nero liked to brand his mistresses so that if they escaped, slavers would know where to return them to. First things first, though.
Dahlia was wriggling around in the bed, a look of pain and pleasure edging across her face. She was obviously still feeling the effects of the drug, and he sat down next to her and began softly stroking her legs. Now was the time to break her will, to make her his. When the effects wore off, memories of the encounter and her oncoming withdrawal would leave her weak, confused, fragile. For now though, he relished the slight trembling of her limbs as he moved his hands up and down the side of her body. "How do you feel, my pet?"
The voice was low and soothing, like aloe on her burning skin. The burning was inside her now, too, but it didn't hurt anymore. Something simmered under the surface there, begging to be touched, filled, doused. Her mind was a muddled mess, and she struggled to put together words for the beautiful stranger. "Hot…it's hot…"
"Poor thing…Let your master make it better." Nero held her hand in his, stoking the soft skin there before putting it to his lips in a gentleman-like kiss. Petting her head like a child, he smiled at her uncharacteristic whimper. She wanted more, but wasn't sure what of.
"And how does this feel?" Nero held her breasts in his palms, flicking the nipples back and forth like light switches. Her whole body responded—she gasped, leaning farther into his touch. Heat flooded her body, pooling in between her legs.
"I…don't know…" Dahlia could barely form sentences, her mind and emotions were racing one another to see which one would self-destruct first.
"What about…here?" Nero cupped her covered mound in one hand while the other continued its work on her nipple. Massaging lightly, he watched her back arch up high as she bucked around wildly, the fire seeming to spread.
"You are soaking wet. The fire feels good, doesn't it?" His hand slipped inside her panties, quickly finding her clit and lightly grazing it with his fingers. Her unfettered moan urged him on, and he dipped down to smear her juices around and continued his assault on her sensitive little nub. Dahlia had a stranglehold on his arm, knuckles turning white from the strain. It wasn't to stop his fingers from going further, but rather to anchor herself in the waves of pleasure that kept sweeping over her like rolling thunder.
Teasing, Nero held one finger at her entrance. Instead of pressing into her warm, welcoming slit, he stayed still, waiting. Dahlia could feel the need building, and the heaviness of his unmoving finger seemed to echo the emptiness inside of her.
"Tell me what you want, my pet." Then there was nothing but the desire to be filled, to close the emptiness and abandon herself to the flames.
"Don't stop—it's so hot inside…" Her words were whispered between great, rasping breaths. In response, he slipped a single finger inside and bent over to capture her small, pink lips in his, his tongue forcing its entry to her mouth. As he drank up the sighs that fell from the courier's lips, he moved his finger in and out slowly, making sure to hit her sweet spot each time.
She was writhing below him, crying out in ecstasy as he finger-fucked her. He added a second finger, scissoring them from the inside to open her up, and then a third. The drug had her juices overflowing, her blood rushing, her heart pounding. The sight was intoxicating.
The hint of whisky on her tongue and the feel of her tight, wet pussy wrapped around his hand was infuriating, maddening. Nero had reached his limit. He had to have her now, whether she was ready for him or not.
... ... ...
