The Ballad of Decker Crane Ch. 01

Her voice got high, and then higher. She strained, flowering open, licking him frantically, and he withdrew it. She wanted to move after that, his arm coming across her hips and holding her there.

"Now suck," he grunted, finding her mouth with his cock. What followed was a delicious struggle, his cock deep in her throat and her sweaty body rubbing all over him trying to encourage him. He grunted, thrusting. He was close. Tilting his hips, his thrusts got ragged. He let her breathe.

He was going to come soon. Rolling onto his stomach over her, he thrust his cock deep in her throat, spreading his legs and taking his own weight, humping her mouth. He applied the vibrator directly, holding it there and thrusting. She lost all sense of him, gagging hard as she began to come while he was deep in her throat, her body jerking under him and her knees coming up to her shoulders. That felt good. It was soft, her efforts to expel him erotic. Surging, his cock convulsed, emptying. He grunted deeply.

He finally pulled out of her throat, slowly getting off of her, breathing fast. He fell back against the cushions. They both needed time to recover. When she was sitting up and had cleaned her face, he motioned. She came to him, her hair still messy.

Decker touched two fingers to her chin. He gestured and the older woman returned. "Put a tip on my tab for Aurora."

"Thank you," Aurora said, looking pleased and glancing at him. A tip wasn't just money. It would be noted that she's satisfied her customer.

Decker dropped his hand. "Have Sally choose another whore for me."

#

(Persya)

The door opened and Persya stood, her arms crossed in front of herself. She was naked. A man came in, closing the door. He had short blonde hair that lay slicked back on his head with pomade and a sharp face with an oddly square jaw. Dressed in striped trousers and a button brocade shirt and vest, his chest was thrust out and his posture straight, a cane in his hand.

To her eyes, he looked like a mid-system man trying to look like a Prime man. But wealth was wealth in any part of the system. The room in which she'd found herself was plain and white, one wall made of mirrors. There was a chair and a table with a heavy vase and an explosion of fresh flowers. She could smell the pink blooms. They would be ridiculously expensive. He could see her sex.

"Remarkable," he said. "I've been watching you. The mirror allows viewing."

He gestured, Persya turning to look. She'd assumed it was just a wall. Looking back at him, her eyes swept him. He was her abductor. There was no reason for her to speak to him.

"I am Mr. Cochrain," he said. "I deal in female flesh and without a doubt, I've never seen a more beautiful woman. I had one of my girls permanently remove the hair on your pussy while you were unconscious and administer a contraceptive that is good for one year. Have you ever met a man before?"

Beren Cromwell. But there was no use dwelling on him. She could guess what this criminal was going to do to her. It was in his eyes. She didn't answer.

"I don't imagine you have. You're not even supposed to exist. There are only supposed to be seven. What's your name?"

When she didn't answer, he approached closer. His hand drew back across his body and she realized he was going to do it right before he struck, her head turning to the left as she staggered. The right side of her face was first numb and then on fire. She panted.

"Answer when I speak," he said. "Tell me your name."

Facing forward, Persya's eyes narrowed. This was the person who had arranged for her to be taken from her house on Pedige, along with the others. Her sister, Bryn. He'd planned their abduction and now he was going to rape her. He could go to hell. She wasn't saying anything to him.

Stepping back, he took the head of his cane in one hand and pulled with his other. The head separated from the sheath, connected to a long tensile stick that emerged. Dropping the sheath onto the chair, his wrist flicked and what remained whistled through the air. "This is a cable cane whip. Even a mild strike is unbearably painful, I'm told." He stepped back. "Would you like to reconsider?"

She glared at him. He was an animal. Far too fast, he grabbed her left arm in his left hand, yanking her around. She danced away, her heart pounding. The thing swished through the air and struck her bottom. It felt like nothing and then she cried out, and then she cried out again, a note in her own voice she'd never heard before, rising.

"What is your name?" he said, still holding onto her arm.

Persya panted, her vision blurred with tears, the man following her in circles. When she didn't answer, he struck again. She'd never felt anything that hurt so much, her cries desperate, trying to get away from him, to ward her bottom.

"Your name," he repeated.

She felt a wave of anger in all the pain. He pulled her off-balance and struck again and she was sobbing and crying out and then she heard herself humming. She went with it, turning and holding his eyes and getting closer.

He stopped, staring at her, the cane sagging. Her voice strengthened. He was watching her face. She concentrated on the door. It had to be simple.

He walked to the door and opened it, standing there with his back turned. There was only so much singing could do for her. It was up to her after that.

She picked up the vase from the table. Yelling, she raised it high and brought it down on his head. It was heavy. She hit him as hard as she could. The vase exploded, water and pink flowers going everywhere.

He looked mildly surprised, like she'd said something strange, and then he fell onto the carpet. Maybe she'd killed him. He was some kind of insane person. Her fingers were shaking as she took his keycard.