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She half-heard him. Her body was in full riot, eager to orgasm and flee all at once. She tried to plead for mercy, for the fascinated Sherv and Rusp to release her, for Jemi to let her come. Her cries were unintelligible.
He relented, thwarting climax. He spanked her and continued when he used the vibrator to torment her. He swatted so hard…or perhaps it was because she was already sore from the flogger…she couldn’t quite escape into the vibe’s invitation. Nonetheless, she was steadily climbing toward crescendo.
Pain and pleasure began warping, becoming a single sensation, an intensity that made it hard to breathe and impossible to think. She was a creature of mere feeling, driven mercilessly toward the enthralling end. She was conscious of her cries, which sounded of only excitement.
The first rapturous spasm hit. Before it finished, Jemi took the pad away. He smacked her clit.
Blazing ecstasy tore through Irene. She seized at the thunderclap of rapture, shaken from head to toe by a quake so phenomenal, she thought herself turned inside out. Then pressure and fullness brought a second shredding frenzy…in the blinding, violent bliss, she knew Jemi had mounted her and fucked her with pounding strokes.
Every time she began to come down, Jemi’s pad-covered fingers stroked her clit, setting her off again. How long it went on until he gave in to his own lust and filled her with his spend, she had no idea. It seemed as if she climaxed over and over for an eternity.
Later, when they relearned to breathe normally, Rusp gazed at his Imdiko in respect bordering on fear. “I wonder if to feel sorry for Irene or happy for her.”
Irene laughed. She’d been worrying over how natural her reactions were, if they were wrong. The humor helped set her concerns aside. The guys, curled around her on the bed, weren’t looking at her as if she was a two-headed monster.
“Both,” she sighed.
* * * *
Irene hadn’t felt so nervous since her first opera performance, and she’d been a nameless part of the chorus then. Tonight, she’d be front and center, performing the universe’s inaugural rimnastin show. She’d be singing in English, and fortunately or not, the guys had told her they’d spotted no Earthers in the audience. The corners were dark and the stage lights bright, Rusp had said, so there was a chance members of her own kind were present.
She wondered at the wisdom of singing her own language. After all, she was disguised as a Kalquorian woman, the purple lenses leaving her essentially blind. Jemi had been forced to guide her to her place on the stage. It wouldn’t be much of a performance with her standing stock still in fear of walking into her bandmates or their instruments…or off the stage itself. She’d have to rely solely on her voice.
“About two dozen in the audience,” Sherv whispered as they tuned their instruments. “Not great, but okay considering no one know what rimnastin is.”
“Probably picture of Irene on vid promo bring them in,” Jemi noted. “Most never see Kalquorian woman.”
“Well, let’s give them a show that’ll satisfy them beyond their curiosity,” Irene said. “I’m ready when you are.”
She hoped.
Dramok Parlek was hunched over his third glass of bohut in the corner of the club. He wondered where the scruffy-looking male bandmembers had found an Earther woman to join them on stage, especially considering the mess going on between their worlds. Earth accused Kalquor of kidnapping around fifteen hundred of its females, and Kalquor claimed it had rescued them from certain torture and death.
Maybe Kalquor was right. Why else would the woman be in the company of such men? She certainly wasn’t with them for the money or their star power.
If escape from Earth was the case, Parlek could guess why the alien female tried to pass herself off as a Kalquorian. There were a number of Earther men on the station. They were a motley lot, typically on the run from their government’s law enforcement or running lucrative black-market schemes. He had to admit, she didn’t look bad despite the lack of carved muscle. She had the height, especially in the tall heels she wore. Her skin, what little was exposed, was nearly dark enough to pass inspection. The purple lenses were a nice touch, but he’d nearly laughed when the Imdiko led her on stage. She must have bought the cheapest lenses on the market.
He'd seen the men play lemanthev the night before. They’d been good. The howler’s raspy delivery added decent novelty to the trademark heavy sound of the music. Unfortunately, the voice was really the only difference Certain Death had offered compared to thousands of lemanthev bands trying to make it. Though their overall sound was decent and their playing technique better than many, it wasn’t enough to separate them from the pack.
Parlek sighed as the band ceased tuning a wide range of instruments taking up most of the small stage’s space. He wasn’t sure what half of them were…they were probably of Earther origin, judging by the woman on stage. He’d been out of the game long enough to lose track of alien species’ music.
The raspy-voiced howler stood behind a stand, on which a long console had been set. He communicated in a tongue Parlek guessed was among the many human languages. Damned if he knew what the kid was saying. Was this rimnastin music style Earther?
The howler followed up his Earther-speak in Kalquorian. “Good evening, everyone. We’re Casual Innuendo, and we’re bringing you the newest style in music known as rimnastin. We hope you enjoy it.”
No one applauded. There was a couple of beats of silence, then the woman spoke. More Earther, but her phrasing had presence, as did her overall expression. Her tone and demeanor, as well as hand gestures, denoted she told them of dark subjects. Parlek was fascinated despite himself. After a few words, the howler touched the console he stood behind, adding muted electronic minor keys to increase the creepy atmosphere. Over this bed of ambiance, the woman snarled further lines.
She stopped, and so did the console. The spenruk hit two of his drums with thick sticks once, twice. Then the trasbu came in, low and ominous. The howler’s console thudded deep bass notes in a strangely bouncy rhythm for several measures.
Sound crashed. The woman’s head jerked, sending her black hair flinging from side to side as the men stomped along in time to the brutally heavy music…close to lemanthev, but it possessed a bright, electronic sound that should have clashed with the rest. Somehow, it didn’t.
Chills raced down Parlek’s spine as they hadn’t for years. He sat up straight and gaped at the band.
The music swelled, then suddenly ended, except for the spenruk setting a steady beat. The howler grabbed an uferliss…anuferliss, of all instruments…and warbled an eerie note.
The Earther spoke again. Not singing, but speaking in what sounded like threatening intent. Ancestors, she had astonishing presence. Even her lack of sight couldn’t keep her from appearing to glare at the audience, demanding they attend to her whether they knew what the hell she was saying or not. She broke off to point imperiously at the spenruk, who pounded his drums in reply. She resumed, her tone increasing in force.
Music swelled, and she sang. Beautifully. Powerfully. Holy shit, she had so much voice. Her breath control was phenomenal. She showed no strain despite her volume and how long she held notes. Parlek sensed she’d barely scratched the surface of what she could do. The chills returned in force.
