"I find them interesting." She let her gaze waver.

134.

eXtasy's Collective Mind "Ha." He quaffed the remainder of his juice. "That last is a lie. But no matter. All will be converted in the fullness of time. It is the nature of mankind to require mastering."

"As Your Temperance pleases." She sipped the sweet juice as a resolving chord hung sweetly in the air.

"Only True Rationality pleases me." He took her cup and set it on the table. "I will partake of your-charms. Once I am finished you will depart. You will never speak of our..."

"Rendezvous?" she supplied. "The confidentiality clause was quite thorough." She hid the thought, If I survive.

"Rendezvous." He stepped around behind her, his hands restless in the sleeves of his silk robe. "Can you remove the net garment?"

"No, Your Temperance. But you can. It tears easily."

"Later perhaps." He reached around her to caress her right breast. "Your skin is very smooth."

"We have no hair to roughen it."

"Genetic manipulation," he spat. "One of these decades we'll visit Moreau and reform the scientists who tamper with nature."

Azulema held her breath until he shook off the thought. "But not tonight." He tweaked her nipple. "Tonight I will partake of the flesh, wrestling with l.u.s.t, fortifying myself for my coming crusade." He captured her other breast and drew her back into a silk embrace. His erection prodded from beneath his robe. His right hand drifted down to cup her mound. Snapping several threads of net, he pulled the cloth away. His fingers danced across her folds.

She let her head fall back on his shoulder and hummed, while the songstone provided harmony. Her petals darkened to purple as he teased them open. Her hands reached back to caress the hard thighs under his robe.

His hand froze. "What is that tune?"

135.

Violet Visions "There is no melody, Your Temperance. I am merely letting my voice wander."

"It sounded like one of our marching songs. That would be anathema."

"Of course it would, Your Temperance." She went back to humming, and his fingers resumed their dance. She felt her juices begin to flow. "Your touch is exquisite." She reminded herself to make no comment insinuating he was experienced at fondling women.

Behind her his p.r.i.c.k found its way through folds of silk and prodded her crevice. He held her waist and pushed her body forward. When she was bent over enough to lay her hands flat on the wooden floor, he placed himself at her entrance and thrust.

Grabbing her hips he pounded into her with growls of effort.

She let her melody loose, reflecting his mad copulation.

Skirting the edge of the forbidden songs, she courted anathema, but he was too aroused to notice. The subliminal effect of the tunes drove his l.u.s.t even higher. He plunged deep as he could, and with a roar of completion loosed an enormous spend upon her womb.

She held her position until he fell back, gasping. This was a critical point. If he dismissed her, all was lost. She turned to him.

"That was magnificent, Your Temperance." She spread her thighs to show his c.u.m leaking out.

"I've bedded you well."

"Not so, Your Temperance. You took me well." She glanced at the hard cot, with its silk sheets and wool blanket. "You have not yet bedded me."

Amused, he acknowledged the difference. "True. In honor of Minion Lombard's penance offering I should truly bed you before I dismiss you."

She retrieved her cup and finished the grape juice. He untied 136 eXtasy's Collective Mind the sash and let his robe drop to the floor. Azulema looked at his naked, ascetic body, widening her eyes to show admiration. She whispered, "Oh, Your Temperance," letting the songstone tell him of her l.u.s.t.

He was already half-erect. She stepped forward, looking down at his c.o.c.k. "Magnificent." She reached for it, hesitated to give him time to object, then circled it with her fingers. The still-wet flesh firmed within her grasp and he moaned. She knelt before him and let her tongue retrieve the pearl of post-c.u.m from its tip. She kissed the head as it emerged, and by the time he slid into her mouth he was hard.

She withdrew, leaving a strand of their mingled juices between her purple lips and the red hood of his p.r.i.c.k. She looked up and whispered, "You were going to bed me?" Her songstone promised ecstasy.

"Come." He dragged her to the bed and stripped away the blanket. Pushing her down, he dropped on top of her. He mauled her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, tearing away the net covering, and suckled as if he could never get enough.

She hummed. But this time she avoided the Order's songbook. Instead, she began with echoes of soft love lyrics, and transitioned to simple melodies from the nursery. The songstone added innocent harmonies, feeding needs his soul could never acknowledge. Slowly his l.u.s.t eased, and He-Who-Cannot-Be-Pleased began to cry. Azulema cradled him in her thighs and drew him into her womb. Gently she rocked him in her arms, and her inner muscles milked him into completion. By the time he spent himself he was weeping. She held him on top of her, ignoring the effort it took her to breathe beneath his weight, and ma.s.saged the remains of tension from his back and shoulders.

While they were still linked, before he could recover and dismiss her, she eased him into satiated sleep.

137.

Violet Visions When he finally rolled to the side, she didn't roll with him.

She knew she must avoid taking any position that would make her seem superior. Instead, she pulled up the blanket and snuggled into the hollow of his arm, with her hand spread on his chest so she could forestall any interruption in his slumber. Then she allowed herself to doze lightly.

Three times during the night, after the candles had guttered out, she waked when she felt his breath catch. Each time caresses and a crooned lullaby lured him from whatever dark dreams pursued his unconscious.

In the black before dawn, he rolled onto her, straddling her thigh, and woke. "You're still here."

"I am, Your Temperance." In the darkness she couldn't read his expression, so she reached out with her other senses.

"You were to leave after I finished." He didn't sound angry.

Holding absolutely still, letting her natural voice carry its own conviction, she said, "The contract lasts until sunrise. And you didn't tell me you were finished." She shifted her free leg so that the scent of their pa.s.sion reached his nostrils.

"So I didn't," he admitted. "Yet you should have known to leave."

The words like ashes in her mouth, Azulema whispered, "It is my error, Your Temperance. If you release me, I will depart."

"I slept without dreaming." His voice held wonder. She felt his erection stir against her thigh. "The contract did specify sunrise."

She smiled, then started as his lips found hers in the darkness. He kissed her, then whispered, "Azulema."

"Your Temperance," she whispered back, and the songstone whispered pa.s.sion.

His lips nuzzled into her throat and his fingers traced up her thigh. "Bloom for me." He teased her open then slid a long 138 eXtasy's Collective Mind finger inside, betraying far more expertise than an ascetic should have.

"Oh, Your Temperance." Azulema arched under him and surrendered to his touch. He stoked her inner fires higher and higher. She writhed under him, making sure her thigh caressed his c.o.c.k until he was hard. Then she let herself fly into a blaze of pa.s.sion. "Oh! Your Temperance!"

She was still gasping when he mounted. She reached down and guided his iron into her still-burning furnace. He pleased himself with long slow strokes and she grasped his b.u.t.tocks to encourage him.

It was all she could do to keep from losing herself in the rhythm, and thus failing. The air in the chamber was muggy with the night's rising vapors, trapped under the force shield. Azulema tracked the dawn's approach, knowing that as the sun rose a small aperture would open to allow the moisture to escape. That must be the moment.

She moved under him, relaxing her inner muscles, delaying his release. She stilled her rising pa.s.sion, denying her own climax. She felt in his muscles the burn of frustration, and began humming. Her voice and the songstone played with his songs, sustaining his effort. She kept him thrusting, using her fingers to knit tension into his shoulders and b.u.t.tocks, winding him tighter and tighter. His pale skin slid against her lavender flesh as mutual sweat mingled between them.

Finally, she felt the slightest pop, pressure released as the aperture opened overhead. Immediately she shifted to bring her c.l.i.t into intimate contact with his thrusts and grasped his plunging c.o.c.k with her sheath. She keened the notes of the Order's greatest ballad, luring him to the edge of reason. She clawed the twisted muscles over his spine, releasing his blood.

She sang the words of the ballad, "And the whips of the virtuous 139 Violet Visions shall rend the unbeliever!" to the songstone's triumphant accompaniment. His voice answered, "And the mortification of the flesh shall be complete."

"Mortification," he shouted, gathering her in his desperate embrace and plunging as deep as he could go. She arched, pulling him deeper with her arms, wrapping her legs around his thighs, pressing fingertips in his blood.

Casting her head back she sang a single piercing note, higher by a third of an octave than any she had sung before. The songstone amplified it until it echoed around the chamber, filtered its way out the shuttered window, and found the aperture overhead.

Far below the tower chamber, Gatekeeper was still monitoring the stronghold's defenses. As soon as the transport beam lanced through the aperture and focused on the songstone he slapped the control to close the breach. He was almost successful.

Running from the alcove he shouted for the guard. They overtook him halfway up the stairs. "What happened?" the captain demanded.

"Transport beam," the gatekeeper panted. "Through the aperture. Took someone."

The captain roared, "You let the Supreme Minion and the wh.o.r.e be abducted?"

"One only." Gatekeeper hung on to the rail at the top landing.

"She's there. Don't let her suicide. Question..." He ran out of wind.

The captain threw the door open and pushed two guards through it. They rushed to the corners of the empty room. The captain turned. "So where is she?"

Gatekeeper staggered forward. "She must be here. No one 140 eXtasy's Collective Mind could have transported twice before I closed the aperture. Not possible." He looked around. There was the rumpled bed, the low table, the shuttered window, and nothing else. He turned to stare down the barrel of a pistol. As he watched the captain's finger tighten Gatekeeper said, "I tell you it's not possi-"

High overhead a small s.p.a.ceship skipped orbit and ran for the jump portal. Inside the single cabin cameras whirred, capturing the end of a transport and the climax of an o.r.g.a.s.m. Azulema cut off her keening signal and responded to the afterthrusts her patron delivered.

As he relaxed he finally noticed the thrum of the engines.

"What in Purity?" He tried to jump from the bed but it was closer to the floor than he expected. When he rolled into the stone wall, it fell over, revealing painted canvas on a wood frame. "What have you done?"

"s.n.a.t.c.hed you from your stronghold, Your Temperance." The songstone mocked him as she stood. On the no-skid steel deck she stretched, catlike, into a cool-down routine.

"Deceiver of Purity! You will die for your transgression." He started around the makeshift bed, actually a mattress covered with a plain cotton sheet.

"I wouldn't do that." The voice came from the pilot's chair.

"Touch her and I'll blast our little recording across the known universe. The Supreme Minion of the Order of Renunciation b.a.l.l.s-deep inside a genetically modified woman, and taking pleasure in the act." The screen over the c.o.c.kpit showed video of the o.r.g.a.s.m, looped to provide an endless humping of l.u.s.t. "Lots of pleasure." The Minion's rapturous face was clearly visible, hiding Azulema's ident.i.ty. Her lavender flesh, however, showed 141 Violet Visions to its full advantage. Her voice had been edited out, leaving his, chanting the Order's prime Marching Song.

The Minion hesitated. "You can't get away with this. I will have your abomination suppressed."

The pilot turned back to his instruments and keyed a communicator. In answer to a query he said, "What do you mean, heave to? I have high clearance." The screen switched to display the identification of a minion in the Order of Renunciation. The stereograph showed nut-brown skin and long black hair in the fashion of the Naturalist Cabal. The pilot transmitted the image as his authorization.

The pilot's hair was pinned back to fit under a wig. His face vaguely resembled the stereograph. "You? You can't be Minion Lombard."

The pilot grinned and a.s.sumed a penitent voice. "Not now, Your Temperance. Only long enough to arrange Your Temperance's a.s.signation."

"They'll check the identification against the Order's records.

You still won't get away."

"It'll get us a few minutes closer to the portal."

"The Order will hunt you down. No matter what cabal you're conspiring with, no matter where in the universe you and your modified b.i.t.c.h hide."

Azulema peeled off her headdress. As the songstone went silent the Minion noticed that the skin beneath, the contact point, was pink instead of lavender. "You aren't a..."

She smiled. "After we're done with you we'll scrub off our makeup. A wig will suffice until my hair grows out."

"No makeup could..." He examined her.

She tore the remnant of the net from her body and toweled off. The lavender skin tone stayed flawless. "Pietor is quite the artist. Aren't you, dear?"

142.

eXtasy's Collective Mind The pilot turned. "I've won enough awards for it. I'm almost as famous as my favorite canvas. Azulema's not her stage name, but you'd have recognized her if you watched more stereo novels."

A look of horror overtook the Minion's expression.

"Azulema? You're a slattern of the theater? My crusade will strike at the heart of your profession. You will burn before the Tribunal of Reason. Once we crush your licentious studios we'll make properly reasonable stories to educate the wayward instead of spreading hedonism. My crusade will..." His tirade ebbed when he noticed Pietor regarded him with amus.e.m.e.nt instead of fear.

Azulema sneered. "The evils of the theater. That's your great crusade? Or is it just the first one? Books, music, dance, anything that inspires pleasure? Food, drink, love, anything fun? Then what? Off to Moreau to end genetics and the other sciences you don't like? When you make your educational stories will you tell about the history of fanatics?"

"Hedonist!" he roared. "You will burn."

"Enough," Pietor said. "Azzie, let it go. You can't teach a pig to sing." He returned to his conversation with the pursuers.

"What do you mean, that's not Minion Lombard?" He blanked the identification. "No s.h.i.t? I guess you've got me." He restarted the video clip of the climax. "You're going to blast us out of the sky because you suspect we have your Supreme Minion aboard?" He listened to the reply. "They didn't tell you that's what all the ruckus is about? Your Supreme Minion's been s.n.a.t.c.hed, so you might want to be light on the trigger." He turned the communicator off.

"How dare you?" The Minion drew himself up to his full height. "You have brought shame upon my office and the Order of Renunciation. I will have Minor Lemuel personally see to your torture and execution."

143.

Violet Visions "Your gatekeeper?" Azulema asked. "He'll be blamed for all this. I expect he's already dead. The Order isn't much for trials and due process."

"You can't make soup without killing chickens," the Minion automatically replied. "There's no way, with the Order's influence and technology that you can hope to ransom me."

Azulema shrugged. "No amount of money would make it worth giving you back."

"Hang on," Pietor said. He touched a control and screen icons showed the video clip being transmitted.

"You sent it out?" the Minion cried. "Why?"

"p.i.s.s off the pursuit." Pietor set the screen to show the pursuing ships. A few seconds after they came on screen, their power cannons erupted in flame. "Perfect." The view switched forward just as they crossed the threshold into trans.p.a.ce.