Comet Coalition 2: Toymaker
© Aubrey Ross, December 2005
All Rights Reserved

Bryce took a deep breath and approached the grim-faced guard standing beside the main entrance to the Pleasure Palace . “I have an appointment with Matthias.” Her voice sounded calm, but blood pounded in her ears, and her dry mouth made it hard to speak. The other two finalists might consider this a job opportunity, but Bryce had far more at stake than a high-paying position. Without direct access to the Toymaker, her mission was destined for failure.

“Who shall I say is calling?” Tall and burly, the guard spoke with surprising decorum, while his carnal interest bombarded her mind.

She concealed her awareness behind an expressionless mask. Only the most powerful psychics could sense her empathic abilities. It was crucial that she not give herself away. “Bryce,” she supplied. At the Pleasure Palace , no one had more than one name.

The guard activated the audiocom on the cuff of his suit jacket. “Bryce to see you, Matthias.”

“Show her every courtesy, Thorne. She's here at my request.” Bryce recognized Matthias's deep, faintly accented voice from their audio correspondence over the past few days.

Thorne motioned her inside. She didn't say a word, doubted any sound would make it beyond her dry throat. Should she have worn something more provocative? No, the Toymaker wanted an assistant, not a sexual companion. Besides, if the guard's reaction was any indication, her royal-blue suit dress had been a good choice.

Squaring her shoulders, she followed Thorne through an opulent lobby and down a corridor. They paused before massive double doors as a facial scanner verified his identity. After the beam swept her face, a synthesized voice said, “Unknown person. Please identify.”

“Authorization 249, guest of Matthias.” Thorne directed his voice toward the console from which the scanner beam emanated.

“Authorization accepted. Enjoy your stay at the Pleasure Palace .”

The doors slid into the walls, presenting Bryce with her first look at the interior of the legendary establishment. A dramatically vaulted, transparent ceiling showcased the cloudless sky. The view would be spectacular at night. A gallery overlooked the main floor, providing visitors with private rooms and a vantage point from which to watch the action below.

Like the rumble of distant thunder, emotions rolled through Bryce. She decreased the sensitivity of her empathic receptors. Breathing deeply, she followed Thorne into a spacious room. Separated by wide archways, two additional rooms spread beyond the first.

Massage tables lined one wall, a bubbling spa tucked in the corner. A woman lay on one of the massage tables, naked and unashamed. Lethargic pleasure emanated from her as two men and a woman worked together, smoothing oil into her skin. One of the men stood beside the table, his hand pumping between the client's thighs.

Bryce looked to her right. Nine separate vidscreens took up the entire wall. Each screen depicted a different sexual act in graphic detail. The figures writhed and moaned as fingers, tongues, cocks, and toys thrust into every conceivable orifice.

Pleasure bots awaited clients through the archway on her left. A man reclined in an adjustable chair, a mouth simulator sucking away between his thighs. His pleasure was so intense, Bryce felt tingling heat between her legs. Shifting her focus to the rack of sleek, metallic units, she could only guess how each was used.

They passed reality simulators and private training booths before Thorne led her through the final archway. A bittersweet sensation drew her attention to the man suspended off the floor. His muscular shoulders bunched from the strain, and a solid black hood covered his head. A pleasure mistress stood behind him, deftly striping his back with a whip. He moaned each time the lash kissed his flesh, but a potent rush of excitement -- and his jutting erection -- assured Bryce he appreciated the treatment.

“The other finalists have already arrived,” Thorne grumbled. “If you'd prefer to linger here, I'll send word to Matthias.”

His impatience made her smile. “That isn't very courteous.”

“Courtesy is not my strong suit.”

“Lead on.”

Another facial scan admitted them to a lift. Judging from the lack of ornamentation, Bryce suspected the elevator was reserved for employees. Expecting an ascent, she pressed her hand to her stomach when the lift descended with nauseating speed.

Thorne stared straight ahead, his hands clasped behind his back, his features expressionless. Curious, she touched his mind and sucked in a breath at the lurid scene playing out within his imagination. The torn remnants of her panties lay upon the lift floor. Her knees draped over his brawny arms, which supported her weight against the wall as he rammed into her again and again.