Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-208-1
Genre(s): Futuristic, Humor & Satire, The Fetish Club, BDSM
Theme(s): Ménage
Series: Eve Aizawa
Length: Novella
ISBN: 978-1-60521-208-1
Genre(s): Futuristic, Humor & Satire, The Fetish Club, BDSM
Theme(s): Ménage
Series: Eve Aizawa
Length: Novella
Blurb:
Meet Eve Aizawa.Soldier. Seductress. Super spy. Assassin. Gun for hire.And oh, did you know she's also a digital inmate?
When the rumor hits Central Command that an infamous terrorist named Adrian Black had murdered and impersonated a tycoon named Jean-Val Cédolin, they send Eve to confirm this suspicion. Centcom fears that if a man as dangerous as Black has control over Cedolin's unlimited funds, Black will start a revolution against the Imperial.
To Eve, this mission looks like a cakewalk. But she isn't prepared for how it unfolds when her hot partner, Raul Mason, burns with jealousy when the alpha tycoon tries to take Eve for himself. Just when she thinks she's in control of the situation, Mason and Cédolin collide in a final dangerous game of sex and power, with Eve trapped deliciously in between.
Double seduction is only the beginning.
Excerpt:
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He took me hard like a savage beast.
My master's cock filled me so deep, I could feel him throbbing in my depths. His grip was tight, fingers and nails dug into my skin, pinning both my arms behind my back, forcing me to surrender to his ferocious thrusts. He grunted and slammed into me impossibly harder, gyrating his hips in such a way that he wasn't only branding me with his primal lust, but also scattering my mind to oblivion.
He fucked me as good as I remember.
"Eve," he called to me in a hoarse voice. "Relax. You're resisting me."
I couldn't relax. The pleasure was too intense. I felt tethered at the precipice of my climax. Naturally, my pussy squeezed his rampaging shaft tightly. An incoherent mumble escaped from me.
"Fuck." He released one of my arms and gave me a slap on my ass. "Relax, I said."
The spank stung me. A red, scorching fire burned my backside. I whimpered. The pain felt so good, a violent orgasm ambushed me.
He cursed again and gave me several cruel spanks while a mind-shattering pleasure consumed me. "Did I say you could come?" he barked. "Did I give you permission?"
I was a wreck as the waves of ecstasy gradually dissipated. "I'm sorry, Master Lehiyaar."
"That won't do." He sounded vexed. "I'm afraid I have to punish you, Eve."
A dark thrill crept into my very core. I knew he was never going to be easy on me, but I always anticipated his mastering with delight. I waited for his punishment, but it never came. Instead, the light around us flashed in blinding throbs, and the room's walls peeled off, rippled and decayed, oscillating like renegade pendulums. My master's grip weakened. I turned to him. He faded abruptly and his voice cut like the static of a broken machine.
A warning message from the Clarion's Central Artificial Intelligence flared into my left peripheral field. This session has been terminated. We are now commencing your transfer to the secure lounge facility.
"What the --"
Before I could complete my curse, the A.I. zapped me, fully clothed, into a windowless, chrome-walled room, and propped me up as if I were a schoolgirl ready for a morning lesson. A man dressed in a Special Forces uniform sat gingerly across from me, eyeing me with impatience.
I greeted him with a nasty curse.
"Nice to see you too, Miss Aizawa." He grinned from ear to ear. "Did I interrupt you or something?"
I told the gentleman to go fuck himself.
This man, Colonel Todd Sanderson, was my handler in the Clarion Holding Facility, a maximum-security prison where I served a three-hundred-year sentence for masterminding the biggest heist in Sigma-Ren history.
I was a good girl, gone bad.
When the CIB, the government intelligence agency that I'd served for the last three decades, royally screwed me because I was the perfect scapegoat for the scandal that threatened some bigwigs' jobs, I decided I wanted a big payback.
I robbed the Imperial Reserve Bank in Bataviv.
The heist would have been a success if my cohorts had done what they were supposed to do. I was caught and tried in absentia. They cryoed my body and hosted my mind in virtuality to make sure I'd stay put. After only a few weeks of confinement, the Viper, a branch of military intelligence corps in the Sigma-Ren Special Forces, approached and offered me a deal: they would let me go early if I agreed to do some work for them. Because of my talents and skills, the Viper commissioned me for work they didn't want to be associated with if the missions bombed later. I was now their ghost and executioner. A black contractor was what they called it.
Sanderson lifted an eyebrow from my sincere, heartwarming greetings. "My, my, are we fussy today?"
I scowled. "I only get one conjugal visit every month, and out of all of those free days, you just have to bug me today. You know, just because I'm an inmate, it doesn't mean you can zap me around whenever you like."
Sanderson didn't make any attempt to apologize. He never did. Being an officer in the Service, and also quite a hotshot in his division, Sanderson was a textbook example of what an insufferable asshole was all about.
"We would have notified you in advance, but I only received my orders just now. My superiors want your answer today."
My scowl deepened. I was pent-up because Sanderson had pulled me from a paid session with Master Lehiyaar. Since Lehiyaar was a popular escortier in the GridStreams -- the universal virtual world that connects the telecommunication systems among star systems and galaxies -- it had cost me a lot of money to book a session with him. His escort agency wouldn't give me a refund if a session was interrupted because of my unavailability.
Sanderson waved his hand, dismissing my gripe. "Relax, will you? Your new assignment will involve a lot of fucking. You'll get conjugal visits every day." He probably meant this as a joke, but being a stiff-ass like him, his attempt came out half-baked. He decided to get to the point when he saw I wasn't amused. "Have you heard of a man named Jean-Val Cédolin?"
"Doesn't ring a bell."
"He's one of the Fortune V's infiniters, owns half of the Birma system, and built his empire from luxurious pleasure resorts. One of them is Le Paradis. Have you heard about it?"
I shrugged lazily. "Maybe."
"Oh, indeed, you are familiar with Le Paradis, Miss Aizawa. In fact, you planned your heist in one of those hotel rooms. I'm surprised you couldn't recollect that particular memory quite well, considering how brilliant your scheme was."
Did I tell you Sanderson was an asshole? "Cut the crap and tell me what you want. I'm not in the mood for twenty questions."
Sanderson leaned back in his chair, looking unperturbed. He was used to my gripes. We'd never gotten along since the day he'd approached me with the gig as the Viper's black contractor. "We had a tip that Jean-Val Cédolin is actually Adrian Black. I'm sure you are familiar with that name by now."
My curiosity piqued when Sanderson mentioned him.
Adrian Black.
Who could forget him? He was the charismatic leader of the Black Monarch, a separatist group that opposed our sovereignty in the Birma system. Ten years ago, Black had decided to storm an opera house packed full of ambassadors, politicians and top military echelons in the middle of an ass-kissing party, and took them all hostage. He and his diehard followers demanded independence for their home planet from our government. I was in charge of the hostage negotiation at that time, and was able to convince Black to release the hostages if we granted some of his demands.
Our negotiation turned into a bloodbath when Adrian Black changed his mind and issued an order to decimate the hostages. After the cataclysmic firefight, only a few survivors were found alive. Black and a few of his little terrorist buddies got away. This tragedy had haunted me for quite a while. "I know Adrian Black. You don't need to fucking quiz me."
Sanderson twitched a smirk of victory. "We believe Adrian Black managed to kill the real Jean-Val Cédolin and downloaded his own neuras into Cédolin's body. We want you to verify this suspicion."
"And what if he did?"
"Simple. We would like you to find out what he did with Jean-Val Cédolin's neuras. Recover Cédolin if at all possible. Then we would like you to terminate Adrian Black. Organically and digitally."
"Hmm... no trial or anything?"
Sanderson cocked another smile. "We would like to keep this low profile."
"A clean kill, or are you leaving that to my creativity?"
"Since when do we ever ask you to do anything in violation of the Code of Conduct?"
"Touché." I tapped my fingers on the table. "What would I get for this?"
"We'll dock thirty years from your sentence."
"I want fifty."
"Thirty, Miss Aizawa. The Central Command authorizes me for thirty."
"Go ask them for fifty."
"May I remind you that you're not in a position to bargain? Take it or leave it."
Asshole. Asshole.
I glared at him. As a prisoner, I didn't have many grounds for leverage, especially when they held my beloved original body hostage. Each time Viper gave me an assignment, they downloaded my neuras into a blank, and released me from the virtual holding facility to do my job. I would have run and betrayed my contract if I didn't have a dirty secret of my own.
You see, the heist I'd masterminded wasn't a complete failure at all. Even though the prosecutors had recovered most of the money I'd stolen, I'd managed to send an outrageous amount of cash to some off-sovereignty banks. Moments before I got caught, I coded the accounts' verification keys into nanoenhancive flakes and injected them into my bloodstream. Without the account verification keys, no one would be able to claim the money. They knew that and scrutinized me, searching for the verification keys. So far, their efforts had been in vain.
The nanoenhancive flakes had practically disappeared into my body, and couldn't be found without a trigger code I'd programmed. The prosecutors tried coaxing a confession from me in very creative ways, but I wouldn't talk. I was the CIB's chief profiler before they sacked me. I had supervised and trained new agents to interrogate high profile cases, and invented radical new ways to make the most tight-lipped suspects sing like songbirds. So, yeah, good luck to them.
Sanderson flicked his wrist up and a datacube materialized from his palm. With a light wave, the datacube sailed toward me. "All of the information you need for this mission is in there. Peruse it at your earliest convenience."
I caught the datacube and stuck my hand in it to access its content. A massive number of files flew into my Brain Machine Interface, sputtering like fireworks among my digital neurons. "Do I get to choose my own blank this time?"
"Sorry, we can't do that." Sanderson let another triumphant smile appear. "Jean-Val Cédolin has very specific tastes in women. Since your mission will involve plenty of bedtime activities, we've chosen a special blank for you, tailored to attract Cédolin's interest. It cost us a fortune."
I wasn't too happy about this and, as usual, Sanderson didn't give a shit.
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