Blade pulled her back. "I recall," he said with mock lewdness, "that it is said to be a pleasant death. And you make too much of it, Pphira." Cruelly, with deliberate malice, he added, "Zeena made me no complaints." And he thrust his fingers into her again. Not too gently. He did not like this ageless beauty, nor trust her, but he wanted her at the moment More important - he must dominate her. It was now or never. A sword of flesh, he thought wryly, is sometimes better than a sword of steel.
She did not cry out for her guards. Blade had gambled that she wouldn't. He seized her, ankle by ankle, and pulled her apart in a slim white tender V. He raised her legs high and over his broad shoulders and he battered at her with no mercy.
Pphira was small and compact, very tight and moist, and she did scream softly as he ravaged her, filling her near to bursting. Again came the soft scream, this time muted and blurred. She locked her legs around his neck and pulled at his buttocks. She began to claw and scratch. His wound throbbed and Blade ignored it.
It was not the first time that he had made love for his life, for his plans, to gain his objectives, and he supposed it would not be the last time. A man must do what he must and take it as it came. One thing he knew - be had never enjoyed it more.
Blade was as skillful in love making as he was in anything he did. He was that kind of man. If he did a thing he did it well, or not at all. Now he timed himself and used every trick in his considerable book. He touched all bases, left no nerve untitillated, kept pounding at her with a fury and a lust unabated by her groans and prayers for mercy. Pphira began to have an endless series of orgasms and to cry out louder with each succeeding one and still Blade kept at her like a stallion. He hurt her and knew it and kept going. He was little more than an extension of his penis now, and knew that also, and did not care. The more he racked her, the deeper he penetrated, the more he must keep on.
When at last he broke and spewed, it was his turn to cry out, a harsh guttural sound that lacked sense to any but another copulating animal. The two-backed beast was dead. It lay broken on the bed, swamped in sticky moisture, floating in limbo and near death and careless of it.
Blade was smashing the little breasts to mush beneath him. She stroked his hair and whispered, "You are crushing me, great ox. Move before you break my bones."
As he went limp inside her Blade knew he had won. For the present. Now to strike while he held the advantage. It had been his experience that a really satisfied woman would do almost anything for the man who had satisfied her if he was but canny about it. And quick.
And yet he did not overdo it. He lay prone, catching his breath, her head pillowed on his massive chest, and let Pphira undo herself. Like all tyrants, the Queen, when she did unbend to a favorite, swung too far toward benevolence. She lavished her favors.
"I would have Pelops as my personal servant," said Blade. "Not as a slave."
She had her cheek to his belly now, toying with him, admiring the blue-veined hose-like appendage that had pleasured her so much. She swore that in all Sarma there was none like it.
"In this land from which you come, Blade, are all men made thus?" And she gave him a tweak.
He smiled down at her. "Many are much bigger. In my own land I am not considered a giant." There was some truth in that Not too much. He had never had any complaints in Home Dimension.
Pphira was awe-struck. She stroked the now upthrusting creature with a finger, then bestowed a light kiss on it. It was coming to attention again.
"What of Pelops?" Blade insisted.
Pphira nodded. "It is done. You may have him - if Kreed and Equebus have left anything."
It took all his restraint to play it cunningly, but Blade managed. His tone casual, he inquired, "What does that mean, Pphira? How do Kreed and the Captain come into it?"
It was no use. She began to suckle him and Blade lent nine-tenths of his mind to pleasure. While scheming with the remaining tenth.
Later, much later, when at last she was exhausted and sleepy and happy, Blade got back to it.
"Kreed came to me and asked for the slave Pelops," she explained, snuggling to him. "I consented, as why should I not? What is one slave more or less? And Equebus also joined his voice in the asking. I find that I cannot refuse Equebus much, try as I will, so I gave them Pelops." Her voice had a peculiarly gentle quality when she spoke of the Captain. Blade pondered for a moment Another mystery? What was Equebus to her?
No time for that now. "They will torture Pelops," he said. "They will question him about me. It will be useless, because he is a poor little man and knows nothing but what I have told him. When he cannot satisfy them they will kill him."
Pphira traced her fingers over his flat muscle corded belly. "I suppose you are right What of it? What is this Pelops to you?"
"My friend," said Blade.
"In that case," said the Queen, "you shall have him. Or what is left of him." She tugged a cord beside the bed. In less than a minute a house slave appeared. Pphira made no effort to cover herself or Blade. She gave brief orders and the slave left.
She kissed Blade and rolled atop him, moving up so that her little breasts were against his face. If she was ageless, the man thought, she was also insatiable. His sigh was inward. It was the name of the game. Show fatigue or boredom now and he might lose everything. He began to will himself to new passion.
Pphira was shrewd enough to know what was happening. She kissed him, examining his tongue with her own, then began to lick his face like a cat.
"Ask, Blade. What else would you have? I am not often in such a mood. You had best take while I offer."
"I would be Captain," said Blade. "In command of a ship. I would fight in the games when Otto the Black arrives."
"Granted. What other?"
Captain Blade, now very sly, a little fearful lest he overstep, thought it best to wait a while. He pulled her up and positioned her astraddle his big body and let her ride him long and far and fast into screaming contentment. When she fell exhausted he cradled her tenderly and stroked her hair.
When she breathed normally again he said, "There are certain things I would know, questions I would ask. Not of idle probing, for I am not given to that, but if I must make a life in Sarma I must have knowledge."
She nodded against his chest. "Ask your questions. Then let me sleep, for I swear I have never been so pleasantly weary."
"I may anger you, my Queen."
"No, Blade. I promise it. Nothing you ask of me at this moment will anger me. So ask ahead."
He took the plunge. "What are Kreed and the Captain Equebus to each other? How do they connect? To me they have the look of plotters, there is a smell of conspiracy about them, but I cannot see to what end?"
Pphira laughed softly. "It is very plain, Blade. They plot against me. So my spies tell me. And I have many spies."
"And you permit this?"
"I permit it. It is not a new thing - there are more plots in Sarma than there are people. I would rather have them plot than act. And they, Kreed and Equebus, are also lovers. Or at least the priest loves - I think Equebus merely permits himself to be loved."
So that was it! Blade, knowing that any form of sexuality was considered normal in Sarma, began to form a picture for himself. He put it to the test.
He said: "So Kreed, an old man, loves the Captain. A man in his prime. This means much to Kreed - very little to Equebus. Kreed is the vulnerable one, then, and you have a certain hold on him. If something should happen to the Captain - "