Chapter 8

Brightreach had lodgings for rent the same way a solar system had planets: there were always several to choose from, but few were habitable. Bed bugs, leaky ceilings, bathtubs filled with strange, dark viscous liquids that you could never quite get to empty, and God forbid you actually probed the drain to see what might be stopping the plumbing up. Cas’ last time on Brightreach, he’d opened the door to the in-room minibar to find a varmint drunk on tiny bottles of Irish cream and creme de menthe leaping out at him, sugared up and ready to claw his face to ribbons.

Among all the Brightreach hotels, motels and rent-by-the-hour joints, there was only one that had even a lick of class or flash to it. Hotel Bliss, named for what you were likely to find there. High-end call girls dripped off of every bar, hanging off the words of whatever man or woman could afford their drinks and attentions. Go-go dancers in sparkling string bikinis constructed from diamonds danced weightlessly in zero-G tubes, all legs and hips and long, thick, flowing hair.

The foyer was lit in soft gold, every surface slick and dark and polished to shine. On any other planet or moon, a place like Hotel Bliss might be attached to a casino frequented by high rollers and bachelor parties, but on Brightreach, it only really serviced the mob-- a fact that Cas was reminded of as he caught a glimpse of a laser-fitted Tommy Gun propped up against the front desk and a calculated scowl in the attendant’s narrow eyes.

Cas knew scowls like that well. It was a you-don’t-belong-here scowl, and in all fairness, he didn’t. He’d put on his finest suit-- technically, his only suit-- which wasn’t a suit at all so much as it was a pair of black leathers that he hadn’t burned any holes through yet, a cheap blazer and waistcoat, and a shirt that was too tight around his neck to feel comfortable in. He’d popped its buttons all the way down to his chest hair just so he could swallow comfortably. His trusty belt-- sans blaster-- hung off his waist. As the attendant’s eyes trailed down to his holster, he was glad to know that at least he’d got that right. Coming into Hotel Bliss armed was like going into a knife fight with a tattoo reading PLEASE STAB ME, I ENJOY IT across your forehead.

“How can I help you ... sir?” The attendant let the honorific hang in disgust as Cas leaned up against the front desk and slapped his palm on top of it loud enough to make the call bell jingle.

Cas only had a grin for the man in return, though. “Cas Dawson. Here for a meeting. Y’mind pointing me in the right direction?”

The attendant’s lashes fluttered like he was trying to suppress an eye roll. If anything, it only made his disdain for Cas more apparent. “There are various meetings being held throughout Hotel Bliss for various reasons, Mr. Dawson. With various guest lists. Perhaps you and your ... friends could give me a little more information so I may be of assistance.”

Oh, Cas didn’t miss the look the attendant had in his eyes upon seeing Cas’ “friends” either. The man’s eyes fell on Val first, in her dress that seemed to have been made from starlight itself. Her long, silvery hair flowed loose and soft over her shoulders, lightly curled as it waterfalled all the way down to the small of her back. The dress itself was backless, slit all the way up to her hip on one side with a neckline that plunged down to her top ribs. It seemed to be held up by some insane combination of magic and tits-- and to Val’s credit, she looked five times more expensive than even the best call-girl at the bar could even hope to bring in.

Mercedes caught the man’s eyes next, all dark hair and leather. She could have been a dominatrix, except for the way she was hanging dutifully off of Cas’ arm. A gold bangle snaked up her slender, taut bicep from elbow to shoulder, its tip flaring into a roaring dragon’s head. Under the man’s gaze, she smiled sinfully, tucking a cigarette between her lips and lowering it to the dragon’s mouth, where it was immediately set to light. She’d won it off of one of Ger’s men in a game of poker, which had made Cas glow with pride. They’d spent their last three days laying low, hanging around Ger’s warehouses and being sure to lose as often as they won-- although even then, they’d still managed to win an awful lot.

Roxy plucked the cigarette from Merc’s lips and took a puff of it for herself, giving the desk attendant a saucy wink before she passed it to Cas. The smoke rose up from her lips all sultry and slow. Ultimately, she’d ended up settling on her frilly white blouse and scandalously short skirt, with a corset over the top that her tits looked perpetually five seconds away from popping out of. Her blonde hair was styled the same as Val’s and Merc’s-- loose, wavy and long.

Between the three of them, they didn’t exactly look like a matching set, but they were striking enough, it almost didn’t matter. Cas and Merc had resolved to tie the whole thing together a little better by using some of their gambling winnings to purchase matching ribbons for all three of the girls in a deep, silk crimson color. A metal loop hung from each of their necks, suggesting that there might be three leashes in Cas’ pocket that he had merely elected to let the girls all off of for the night. Val had bristled beneath hers, Merc had chuckled at the mere notion of anyone being able to put her on a chain, and Roxy had oohed and ahhed over hers to the point that Cas was heavily considering actually buying her a damn leash, just to see what might happen.

Cas enjoyed the attention the girls got. If anyone decided to act on those wanton stares they were shooting over, it would be a different story, of course-- but barring that, Roxy, Mercedes and Valyrie were obviously the best looking women in the place, which was saying something, and it showed.

Rather than continuing to deal with the sneering desk attendant himself, Cas nudged Val forward instead. Diplomacy was her department, after all. If Val couldn’t sort them out, Roxy’d probably flirt the poor bastard’s balls so blue he’d have to abandon his desk altogether, leaving it free for them to peruse at their leisure. Barring that, Merc would probably be willing to break the guy’s nose. It might not get them anywhere, but with how high the man was pointing his sniffer in the air, Cas couldn’t pretend he wouldn’t enjoy watching.

But as Val opened her mouth to speak on their group’s behalf, the doors to Hotel Bliss’ foyer burst open with a loud, echoing clang. Two slender, busty women dressed in little golden chains fashioned into fabric and little else immediately rushed through the opening, dropping to their knees to either side of the door and bowing low in worship. The doors both bounced against the women’s asses as they swung back in-- human doorstops.

Cas caught a look of pity mixed with anger in Val’s violet eyes as she watched the display-- and it only intensified when she saw what happened next.

The next in through the doorway were dancers, draped in the same chainmail with the addition of flowing, sheer red harem pants and matching veils. They kicked and spun elegantly, four of them moving in perfect synchronicity with each other before they dropped to their knees as well, folding their bodies over, foreheads pressed to the ground to form a walkway of sorts, two women on each side.

But it was the final bit of fanfare that really set Val’s temper flaring. Cas could taste it on his own tongue, spicy like hot sauce, bitter and sour like lemon peel. Merc stiffened, her lip curling, and even the ever-bubbly Roxy began to frown at the sight.

A massive, red-faced, thick-necked man seated on a gilded throne cushioned with burgundy velvet almost seemed to float into the foyer. Almost being the key word. Through another wave of dancers, this time with an entire posse of heavy-muscled bodyguards thrown into the mix, Cas saw the throne lurch forward oddly.

A glance to the floor told him why. Beneath the man’s throne was a platform edged in more gold filigree and fringed in red drapings. Beneath that were a dozen more women crawling along on their hands and knees, the platform borne on their backs. Each wore a thick golden collar attached to a red velvet rope--each of which trailed up to the arms of the throne, six of them clenched between each of the red-faced man’s fists.

(It’s ... disgusting.) Val’s voice echoed in Cas’ head, drenched in horror and sick awe.

“You can say that again,” Roxy said mournfully, shaking her head.

Cas did a double take. “Wait a sec...”

“Yes, Captain. We can all hear Val’s telepathic messages.” Merc’s shoulders were stiff with discomfort. “When she chooses to share them, anyway. Figured you would have realized that by now.”

Cas’ brow furrowed for a second, but this wasn’t exactly the time to be worrying about the girls talking about him behind his back. They watched in mutual distaste as the red-faced man’s procession carried through the foyer, achingly slow and as painful to watch as it must have been to carry. He had to have been pushing three hundred pounds, fat layered over muscle. Add in the weight of the platform and throne, and it couldn’t have been an easy load to bear.

As the procession passed, even the go-go dancers in their zero-G chambers stopped to stare. The high-rollers and call-girls at the bars, too. In fact, the only person who didn’t seem to find the display worth gawking at was the snippy little front desk attendant, who cleared his throat in annoyance as the group finally moved on.

“Sir? Did you have a destination in mind?”

Cas flicked the cigarette that Roxy had given him at the man then placed his arms around all three of the women accompanying him. As the desk attendant raised his voice to complain, they all turned their backs on him completely.

“Save it, cupcake,” Cas said over his shoulder. “I think we know exactly where we’re headed now.”

They followed the procession at a distance, keeping just close enough to know which turns to take but far enough away to avoid attracting attention. But the weight of that grand entrance still hung over them all as they went-- Cas could feel it. Almost as heavy as that platform must have been on all of those poor women’s backs.

“You grumpy that you don’t have a throne too, Captain?” Roxy wound her arm around Cas’ bicep, looking up at him with concern.

“Nah. It’s not that, believe me.” Cas had never been one for spilling his guts when he could help it. Literally or figuratively, for that matter.

“Sad that there aren’t more of us?” Roxy teased, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

“Please. You three are plenty to handle already.”

“Aww. What’s buggin’ you, then?”

“He doesn’t like the way those women are being treated,” Val said softly, shocking them all. “Our Captain is a little more old-fashioned than his recurring threesomes with you and Mercedes would suggest.”

Cas wheeled around to frown at the silver-blonde, who was lagging behind the rest of them by a half-step. But Val merely shrugged under his gaze.

“Am I wrong?”

Cas’ frown deepened. “No, not exactly-- just, how the hell did you know that?”

A sad little smile tugged at one corner of Val’s luscious lips. “My telepathy doesn’t just go one way, Captain. Sometimes it’s refreshing to poke around in that filthy mind of yours. When you’re not imagining one or more of us naked, you can be surprisingly ... noble.”

“I just don’t like seein’ women in chains--” He glanced to Roxy. “At least, not when they’re not enjoyin’ it.”

Roxy giggled. “Oh, Captain. Chain me up all you like.”

“We’re about to see a hell of a lot more of that, following these lot,” Merc said at Cas’ other side, still looking like she was ready to beat the red-faced man to death with his own throne. “I don’t like what I’m seeing either. But if we’re going to sell Cas as our glorious master, we’d probably do well to take a number from his servant girls’ books.”

“I will not crawl,” Val sneered. “I am Imperator Destinatus and Prime Scion of--”

“Of the Holy Callistan Sultanate?” Merc rolled her eyes. “You’re imperator of fuck all these days, princess. You keep that attitude of yours up, no one’s going to buy you as any kinda slave, and that’ll blow this whole thing.”

“No one is going to be buying me at all!” Val argued.

“Damn right they’re not,” Cas growled. “Pretty as that mouth of yours is, with the way you keep running it, no one will want to, either. Merc has a point, though. If that’s the kind of shit these people are expecting...”

He glared at the retinue up ahead, where one of the girls bearing the platform on her back seemed to have stumbled slightly beneath the weight. It was a stall that was quickly corrected as one of the red-faced man’s body guards drew out a whip. The body guard didn’t even have to flick it before the woman corrected herself--which was a good thing for Cas, who didn’t want to think about what he would’ve had to do to the fucker if the whip had been unfurled.

“You want us to play our parts proper, Captain?” Roxy fluttered her eyelashes. “I’ll suck you off in front of that big ugly tomato, if you want.”

“And I’m sure you’d do a hell of a job at it, too.” Cas pinched Roxy’s cheek fondly. “I’m sayin’ we’re all gonna have to play our parts proper, though. Not just you and Merc-- but you too, princess.”

Val sneered, but eventually nodded. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

They watched as the red-faced man’s procession passed through a pair of huge, ornate doors at the end of the hall into a dark room flanked by two more body guards-- these ones dressed like Hotel Bliss staff. Cas waited until the entryway was clear and the doors were closed once more before he nodded to Roxy and Merc, who darted before him in perfect step, then dropped to their knees like they’d seen the red-faced man’s women do just a few moments before.

(Let me announce you, spacer.) Val floated past him, moving on her tiptoes in a way that made her hips sway and her skirts fan out like they were caught on some supernatural breeze. (This will require a sense of decorum--something that you’re not exactly familiar with.)

(By all means, then, ) Cas thought back in reply. As much as he hated Val digging around in his head, he had to admit that her psyker nonsense had its uses.

“Presenting the noble and fearsome Captain Cassius Dawson, master of women and commander of our bodies, hearts and minds.” Val threw her arms out wide, playing up that posh accent of hers like she’d spent all day practicing that line in her head. She was quite the actress when she wanted to be, regal and elegant, bending at the waist in a bow that dropped into an intricate curtsy that, admittedly, made Cas’ cock twitch with the way it pushed her ass out towards him.

If he was really commander of that woman’s body, heart and mind, he would’ve had her out of that curtsy and onto her knees in a hot second, skirt flipped up over her waist while he buried his dick into those tight princess holes of hers, first one then the other, until--

(Ahem. Spacer? Do you mind?) He could hear the irritation in Val’s thoughts as they rammed through his fantasy, drawing him back into the moment.

(Can’t blame a man for lookin’, ) Cas thought back as he stepped forward, clearing his throat and putting on his best stern, serious look.

The two guards glanced at each other as Cas struck a pose, hands on his hips, legs spread wide. He half expected them to laugh at him for it. This wasn’t the way Cas usually carried himself. Usually, he just swaggered around until he’d charmed his way in wherever he wanted to go. In situations where that didn’t work, a blaster usually did the trick. But that wouldn’t fly here. A pity. As it was, he just felt like a dumb asshole--he wouldn’t have been surprised if he looked the part too.

But instead, the guards regarded him with a certain...

Fuck, was that awe in their eyes? Cas must’ve been playing his part better than he’d thought.

“You’re Cas Dawson?” The guard on the left spoke first, blinking as his eyes trailed all the way down Cas’ body.

“He looks like Ger told us he would,” the guard on the right said, narrowing his own eyes. “But...”

Cas raised an eyebrow, feeling a certain level of discomfort shoot through him as he realized both men were staring pointedly at his crotch. Cas didn’t mind it when Roxy and Merc did it. Even Val’s gazes to the area beneath his belt generally elicited a certain amount of smugness in him when he caught her looking--and she looked a hell of a lot more than she wanted to admit. But these two ... Well, it just wasn’t polite, far as Cas was concerned. He might not’ve had Val’s fancy-pants manners, but between men, urinal etiquette demanded that you didn’t go around gawking at other men’s packages like that.

“Can I help you boys with somethin’?” Cas grunted, scowling.

“No! Just, ah...” The guards shared a smirk. “Is it true?”

Cas scowled a little harder. “Didn’t you hear the woman? Noble, fearsome, master of women. That’s me, dammit!”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” the guard on the right said quickly. “Not meanin’ to offend you or nothin’, Captain Dawson ... It’s just, well, Ger said...”

“Do you really have four balls?!” the guard on the left blurted out, excitement making his eyes bulge.

Cas groaned. He was going to have to have a talk with Ger about the man’s tendency to overblow the truth.

“Just the two, I’m afraid,” Cas said, grabbing his package and readjusting it in a way that made Roxy coo and sigh. “Assume that’s not an entry requirement, though.”

“It’s not,” the guard on the right said, looking disappointed. “But entry to the meeting will require proof of your willingness to, ah. Dominate. Given your smaller retinue, compared to some of the other attendees.” The man glanced. When the other slavers at the meeting were bringing small parade’s worth of women, he supposed three wasn’t quite enough to make him out to be as fearsome Val’s declaration would suggest.

“We have to watch you fuck one of the girls,” the guard on the left said, still eyeing Cas’ package with a strange hopefulness. Poor fucker must’ve really wanted to see a man with four balls.

“Mind if I ask why?” Cas shifted his hands to his belt, running his thumbs across the leather. “Ger’s vouched for me. You’ve heard all about who I am by now, I’m sure. Seems a little ... excessive, you ask me.”

The guard on the right spoke up immediately. “By order of The Morningstar. Those who seek to enter into this business have to be fearless, able to master their own stock as easily as they would have others master them after selling them.”

Cas rolled his eyes and cocked his head toward Roxy. “Alright, sweetheart. Get your ass over here-- unless it’s still too sore from earlier?”

The blonde’s blue eyes lit up and narrowed in delight. “You know I’m always happy to please you, sir.”

But as Roxy rose to come for Cas, the guard on the right held up his hand.

“Not one of your girls,” he said. “One of ours.”

“What?” To Cas’ surprise, it was Val who spoke first, clenching her fists at her side and furrowing her brow. “You can’t be...”

She fell silent for a moment as both of the guards reeled back uncomfortably. Cas could imagine why-- if one of that red-faced sultan fucker’s women had spoken out of turn like that, he probably would’ve tanned her hide for it. Unfortunately for Val, she’d only managed to clock her mistake a second too late.

“You can’t be serious,” she finished lamely, lowering her head. “My apologies ... sir. I shouldn’t have lashed out. It’s only...”

“Only what?” Cas said, smirking slightly. Val had slipped up, sure. Just like he’d warned her not to. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy hearing what her little outburst had been about.

Val’s pale cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. “The idea of you using another woman made me ... jealous, sir.”

Cas raised an eyebrow, holding her gaze. (Is that so, princess?)

He could feel her annoyance radiating off of her, even though her face didn’t show it. (Well, I had to tell them something, didn’t I?)

Cas’ grin broadened. (Pretty believable lie, though.)

Before he pushed Val to any further frustration-- or further mistakes, for that matter-- Cas dropped their mental connection and turned to the guards with a shrug. “New girl. Haven’t quite broken her in yet.” He cast a devious look back over his shoulder toward Val. “I’ll have to make sure to punish her for it later.”

“Or you could punish her now,” the guard on the left piped up-- earning him an elbow from the guard on the right.

“Stop hassling guests, idiot.” The guard on the right stepped to the side, showing Cas through the doors. “Our selection of women is through here. Have whichever of them you choose.”

Cas paused to offer Roxy and Mercedes his hands, helping them to their feet before he lead the way in. He had to admit, even though it was Val who’d voiced her unhappiness with this new situation, he could sense a little twinge of jealousy in the pout of Roxy’s lips and the hardness of Merc’s brow as well. Damnedest thing, really. Val hadn’t spoken up against him plowing Roxy or Merc before-- just given him a lot of shit over it. And Roxy and Merc had seemed perfectly happy to share ... as long as they were only sharing with each other, apparently.

Cas wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. On one hand, he didn’t mind seeing the girls a little possessive of him-- even Val. Hell, especially not Val, who’d spent all this time pretending she didn’t want him at all, slick little liar she was. On the other hand, despite the fact that exhibitionism hadn’t ever really been his thing, sinking his dick into one of the Morningstar’s available women was the only way that they were going to get into this place unless they wanted to start stabbing people-- and stabbing people was an excellent way to blow their cover immediately.

If the girls wanted to get their revenge on whoever’d gone and put them in those boxes, they were going to have to get over the idea of sharing him with a woman who wasn’t exactly part of the little clan they’d formed.

The guards led them through to a side room as two more guards took up positions at the front doors. The new room was dimly lit to one side, draped in velvet curtains black as space itself, and completely shadowed to the other side. In the center of the room was a set of golden chains attached to the floor, complete with a collar and manacles for the wrists. He had about one guess as to what that was for, and given their circumstances, chances were that it was the right one, too.

Cas and the girls posted up on the side of the room beneath the soft golden lighting. He could feel Roxy fidgeting at his side, obviously desperate to be the one who’d take up the chains in the center of the room. Merc was stiff, refusing to meet his eyes, and Val-- it was almost amusing to see her still blushing so furiously.