The Huntsman and the Nix Ch. 07-08

"On the table?" she said. She drank, eyeing the table, still breathing fast and feeling slippery. It didn't seem like anything, just a weird thick and dull surface with a strange little console with buttons on the side.

"It's actagelen," he said. "It will hold anything in place to a certain degree. You won't be able to move. It has other features," he said, opening a panel and pressing a button, a huge chair seeming to rise out of the table, the chair leaning back. "Get in. I'll show you."

She finished the drink as he reached down, lifting her skirts and pulling the dress off, Isobet naked, swaying a little, blinking, the liquor strong. She looked down, stepping out of her slippers. Pulling her straight into his arms, he kissed her. She melted into him as he pulled back and swept her up, depositing her into the chair, which was soft.

It was so soft.

She was sinking into it and she kept on sinking, blinking up at Sutter as he arranged her limbs, her arms out to the sides, the chair rising under her knees and spreading her legs entirely. Her head fell back, still sinking, Isobet wiggling and then realizing she couldn't move at all.

Her eyes went wide. "Sutter," she said, breathing fast.

He touched the controls on the side of the table and the sinking stopped, but she still couldn't move. He stood over her and began to strip, that distant and cold look on his face. She shivered, her nipples hardening, watching him.

Then he was over her, but he wasn't sinking. He could move as much as he liked, the table supporting him. Sutter leaned down, nuzzling her, Isobet trying to arch, but she couldn't.

"I want to do things to you," he said, his body against hers, rubbing himself on her. She shivered again, unable to meet him or move, feeling strange and losing the sense of herself a little, drifting.

His hands were on her, touching her all over, her skin unbearably sensitive. Time passed and then his hands were gone. She felt exposed and wanting, her heart pounding. She realized her eyes were closed.

Isobet opened them, feeling a tickling heaviness along her belly. Sutter was over her with something in his hand, his sex heavy and erect. Whatever he was carrying must have already been in here. It was a short whip with many dark strands, soft. It felt good, trailing between her breasts, over her belly, her skin alive and sensitive.

He passed it over her spread thighs and then between her legs. She cried out, struggling, her sex clutching and convulsing. He was watching between her legs, dragging it over again slowly, Isobet lost in pleasure.

She was looking at the ceiling, the lights, the heavy tendrils of the whip landing with a soft thud that clung to her skin before releasing, a constant series of strikes, light, on her thighs, barely there and gently on her belly, on her breasts, her nipples aching and twinging. She was crying out again and again as it intensified, the blows getting harder.

It stopped and his mouth was on her nipples, tormenting her, the sensations keen. Then the whip returned, the blows thudding. Her skin was warm and every inch of it was awake, part pain and all pleasure, getting stronger. She yelped, a strike on her spread sex, and his mouth was there and she was coming again, coming against his mouth and ready for more right away.

Her body was covered with sweat, the chair tilting and lowering. She felt something between her legs, a low vibration snuggled against her, something in her. Sutter's sex was in front of her, hard and silky, against her lips.

She opened her mouth and was sucking him, taking him deep. She breathed with the rhythm, a little anxious because she couldn't pull away from him and couldn't breathe when he went deep. But he was careful, and she relaxed as he pushed into her throat.

Sutter was saying something, a low muttering. "Fuck, fuck," she heard, the sounds helpless, and then, "Vibe up." The vibrating between her legs, inside her and against her clitoris, got faster.

She drifted, the pleasure endless and urgent, forgetting everything, mindless, sucking him.

"I'm going to come, baby," he said, Isobet taking a deep breath. "I'm going to come so hard."

Then she was, too, coming, shuddering, unable to voice it, unable to breathe and not caring at all. He cried out, his voice loud, the sound sending a long wave of pleasure through her, his musk salty. Isobet swallowed around him, his sex giving her more.

He pulled out and she swallowed, took a large breath and yelled, still coming, the pleasure beyond anything she'd ever felt.

She opened her eyes, trying to catch her breath. Sutter was over her, watching her face. He looked into her eyes and bent, kissing her, and she drifted, feeling something withdrawn below and then Sutter's hands were there again, his hands everywhere, avoiding her breasts and sex but touching her all over. Her breathing slowing. Time passed. She couldn't tell how much.

"Do you like it, baby?" he said, over her, Isobet back again, Sutter nuzzling her and withdrawing. He touched between her legs, still as sensitive and alive as she had been, stroking. He watched her as she grunted lightly, his fingers wonderful, entering her, his thumb on her clitoris, his mouth going to her nipples.

She came again, losing track of everything. His sex was hard against her thigh. "Yes, Sutter," she breathed up at him. "More."

He thrust into her sex, pumping his hips, nothing gentle about it. She couldn't move and never wanted it to end, every stroke pleasure. His mouth was on hers, demanding, his body against her, his hand between them, touching her. She didn't know how she could, but she hitched, looking up and into his eyes when he broke the kiss, the sensations rising. She couldn't move to release any of the tension.

"Sutter," she said, his hips thrusting deep.

"Come again, killer," he said, watching her, his voice deep and hoarse. "Come all over my cock."

It surged through her and she was gone for that time, no thinking, only sensation, outrageous pleasure. Her body was jerking with it and she heard his sounds, heard his cries.

She was heaving breath, Sutter over her, taking his own weight.

"Son of a bitch, Isobet," he said, his own breathing as bad, panting over her. "End Skye."

It felt like they'd been in here for hours. She had no idea. She'd lost track of how many times she'd climaxed. Her body was liquid, sated, impossible to move. She closed her eyes, feeling the chair rising under her, becoming firm, her muscles aching and her skin still sensitive, a little sore. Her body was red in places, her thighs and breasts. Then she felt Sutter's arms around her, his warmth. She shivered.

"Increase heat," Sutter said. "Open bathing pod."

The strange egg shape in the corner tilted and opened, and under it was a steaming bath. She opened her eyes when he lowered her, hot water under her and then all around her. It smelled good, herbs, and then her body was humming, everything that had been aching melting into comfort. "Thank you, Sutter," she mumbled.

He laughed softly, leaning her forward and getting in behind her, sinking down. She wiggled, turning over so she was on her belly on top of him, squirming until her head was under his chin. She sighed.

"Killer," he said.

"No."

His fingers were tracing up and down her spine. "C'mon, baby. You're going to fall asleep."

"I am asleep," she told him, curled up on him.

* * *

[Sutter]

Sutter laughed softly, Isobet was warm and silky, pressed against him. Bringing her here had been a good idea. But they'd still have to get up early. He moved and she made noises, objecting, as he maneuvered, getting her up--she resisted that--and on her feet, out of the tub.

She blinked up at him and shivered, frowning.

"Dry," he said.

Warm air came and Isobet stepped closer to him and leaned against him. He stroked her hair, feeling her soft weight.

"Can't we stay here?" she mumbled.

"Come on, killer. Into your clothing."

"No," she whined.

He grinned, pulling back. In not too long, he had her dressed, putting her slippers on. She fell asleep curled up on a cushion while he was getting himself dressed and he reached down and swept her up.

The way out was shorter than the way in, Anglen there at the exit.

"Killer," Sutter said softly. "You're going to need to say something to Anglen or they're going to think I've murdered you."

She opened her eyes, staring at Anglen, that flat gaze. "Hello," she said.

Anglen smiled at her. "I'm just checking to make sure you're feeling well. We always want to ensure any guests our sponsors bring here are safe."

"I'm fine, thank you," she said, resting her head against Sutter's chest, her hand going there. "I'm just sleepy."

#

It was very late when they got back, the medical center still humming but the halls dim. He brought Isobet to the dorm, an officer standing guard there. Isobet was yawning and shivering, her nipples hard.

As they approached, the officer's eyes swept her, lighting with interest. "Good evening, Na Forsyte," he said.

"Goodnight, Pater," she said.

Sutter frowned at the top of her head, looking back at the officer who had turned, his eyes sliding to her, meeting Sutter's. The officer faced forward again.

They got in and Sutter put her into bed, beginning to undress.

"Cold," she said, a complaint.

"I'll be right there, killer."

He got in next to her, the bed small, but they'd been sleeping in his bedroll on the ground. It didn't matter to Isobet. Her round butt found his groin and she wiggled until he shoved his leg between hers. She put her head on his arm and grabbed his other arm and wrapped it around her, and herself around it, sighed once and was asleep.