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Finally, Konig returned. He stepped casually up onto the thigh-high platform and tore the gag they'd put on the man away.
"Please, now. Please, oh gods, please, finish me, I need it, Konig, I'm begging, I need—"
"Shut up."
The man whispered, "Please..." His jaw worked, as if he couldn't quite keep from begging.
"You've done it, Miller. You fed four alfen tonight, all without the benefit of your own inked gilt for extra stim. You shall join us in our beautiful world of pleasure, an endless parade of nightly delight."
Rum mentally rolled his eyes. He wondered if the man, Miller, had been shown the holding rooms, where the addicts who couldn't reach their plateaus through pleasure were beaten into their necessary ecstasy before the drug made them mad.
Miller began to cry, snot dripping from his face. Rum shifted his weight, knees aching, neck stiff. If he ever saw Mason again, he was going to kill him for selling Rum to these people. It would be kinder than making him taste this slavery.
"Unfortunately, we have no gilt to give you."
Rum went still. Miller's sagging head jerked up. His flushed face was nearly comical in astonishment.
Konig smiled, as gorgeous a being as Rum had ever seen. His ruby hair was already drying into silky waves, and his golden skin was notable due to its empty purity. No swirls of gilt marred his hairless, perfectly toned and proportioned body. Konig, the lunatic, had used each of his infusions entirely on his cock. Even now, fully powered, Konig's cock stood upright, an erect pillar of light. The swirls of so many tattoos in such a small area gave it the appearance of being solid gold. Rum had seen women come just from the first stroke of that cock into their bodies. So much gilt, so tightly bound on the body's most sensitive location. It was insane.
"Yes, you see, our enclave has depleted all our gilt. But luckily for you, we received a shipment of fresh flax this morning. Stillskin set up the spinning wheel personally, didn't you, slave?" Konig's garnet eyes sparkled at Rum.
Rum nodded once. That job had been waiting for him when he returned from his weekly shopping jaunt, the one pleasure in his life.
"All is in readiness. You will receive the first dose, Miller, in honor of pleasing us tonight. Have you thought where you'd like your first inking to be placed?"
Miller's brown eyes were having a hard time focusing, but he nodded. "Yes, Konig. My chest and neck." His pelvis rocked slightly in his bonds, as if he couldn't help but seek sensation for his hard erection. The midlander was handsome enough, but looked drab next to the alfen perfection.
"Ah, a wise choice. You'll reach a state of being you've never imagined, Miller. It will be unlike anything you've ever known, beyond joy."
Rum felt distinctly sick. Konig was going somewhere with this. Usually, they just tortured their new recruits to this point then dosed them into near insanity with their first inking.
Konig's face fell, aching with such false sorrow and concern, Rum ground his teeth. "But, my new brother, the spinning of the flax must commence first. And we have no prospects. We need a very special person, you see. The spinner must be very sexual, capable of receiving much pleasure. Yet at the same time, they must have no experience with gilt whatsoever."
Konig leaned against one side of the golden grid the man was spread upon. He reached out one long elegant finger and touched the tip of the man's rigid, flushed cock. It flexed wildly, bobbing up to his belly and seeping fluid. The zap of a powered gilted touch on that raw skin, hard used for hours now, must be agony.
Miller choked, his head falling back on his neck marked with deep bite marks and spotted from sucking mouths.
"All we need is a name. Someone who would spin our treasure for us. Someone who is new to us, a modest person, just a hardworking friend. Someone who would be richly rewarded, their world enlightened by the first pure touch of gilt."
Stroking his own gilt-glowing cock, Konig sighed a heavy sigh. "I wish I could induct you tonight, Miller. But we are hindered here, forbidden to recruit among the station population, except from those who willingly visit us. Imagine our sadness—"
"Liese."
Every coarse black hair on Rum's body stood up. His nape, his chest, his arms, his thighs all went electric with the name that burst out of Miller's chapped lips. The scent of vanilla filled his lungs.
"Liese. My ex. She's never touched gilt. She doesn't know. She'd like it, I know she would."
"Hmmm." Konig oozed concern. "But is she talented enough to spin the flax?"
"She's a fucking ion cannon in bed. She took a long time to get there, but once I got her to the sheets, she went all night. Go get her. She's at a carb-deli. Please, Konig. One touch, just give me one more touch." His body writhed and twisted as it could in the bonds, his arms and legs spread in a wide cross. "Please, oh gods, please, I need."
Konig beamed, his full lips revealing perfect white teeth. "Soon you will be truly one of us, Miller." He leaned in close to the man's twisted face. "If she is as capable as you say."
"She is. I swear. Please."
Konig bent and blew softly over Miller's cockhead. Miller's scream froze the room, his cream shooting out in an arcing fountain. The few people still enjoying the rush of their taste of gilt, a mere topical treatment, stared in awe at the orgasm that gripped Miller for long moments. He bucked so hard blood trickled from his wrists, and his muscles clenched so strongly his skin seemed to swell.
He spurted again and again while Konig smiled fondly. Rum stared at the bastard, his heart thudding so hard he thought perhaps it would pop the slave clamp from his body. Konig gave up languid applause when Miller finished, hanging fully from his wrists. The room burst out into laughter again, and clapped with him, oblivious to the fact one addict had just condemned an old friend to join him in the hell that was a gilt museé.
Konig glanced at Rum. "You're dismissed, troll."
Rum's brain raced with ways to warn her, with ways to pass a message, with denials. If he offered himself up as their playtoy, sometimes they granted him privileges. A schwarz's willing pleasure was worth a great deal to a gilt-addled alfen.
Konig ordered two of the midlanders serving the alfen tonight to take Miller away. Uther lounged on the floor pillows nearby, his yellow-blonde hair tousled, a vacancy in his eased eyes that Rum despised.
"Uther. Get dressed. I have someone for you to fetch."
Rum staggered to his feet, his legs asleep, but his will to stand and stop this stronger.
"Ah, Stillskin. Still here?" Konig chuckled at his stupid joke. "You didn't like that, did you? You think it's not fair." Konig stepped up to him and stroked a hand behind Stillskin's neck. Bending his head down from his greater height, he hovered over Rum's mouth. The drug inked in the man's skin was newly energized, and the touch of Konig's fingers sent tendrils of molten intensity down Rum's spine.
Rum forced himself to be motionless, words to stay their hand against Liese, sweet, kind Liese, tumbling through him.
"Does it remind you of being sold out by your own kind? Do you think she'll adjust to our ways as well as you have?" Konig's breath smelled of wine and spices and fresh crackers.
It infuriated him. This thing had no right to smell like Liese. He shouldn't even know she existed.
Konig lowered himself more so that his lips brushed over Rum's with every whispered word. "You're so adorable in your idiotic morals. I'll fuck you again soon. But first, I'll fuck her. I'll take her after she's finished the flax for us, and then I'll carve the gilt ink into her skin myself, while my freshly-powered cock is deep in her cunt. And then you'll see, Stillskin, my pet shadow. You'll see that nothing matters but the pleasure. Her simple life is over, and her introduction into the pure moment, the straining flesh, the bubbling blood..."
Konig inhaled, seeming to pull at Rum's breath. "It's a beautiful life. How I wish I could show it to you. Such a tragedy, your composition, the fact you'll never know the truth of gilt, just a pale ghost of it. And you standing here all stiff with outrage, thinking yourself superior, when really it's you, shadow. You're the one who's less, untouched. I mourn for you."
Konig licked over Rum's lower lip, and heat rolled down his neck. That gilt could give a mild sexual thrill to an unwilling schwarz had taught him the power it must have over some of the other races who sought it out.
Konig continued. "I don't mourn enough to avoid using your talented hands to help stretch our pleasure and feed our needs, of course. But I do pity you. Poor dark, ugly Stillskin. Stubbornly yearning to leave our golden luxury and return to the cold emptiness of his spaceship. Stupid, unimaginative schwarz."
Konig pressed a gentle kiss to Rum's lips. "My slave." Tightening his grip on Rum's neck, he smiled down into Rum's crackling eyes. In that moment, Rum weighed his instant seizure with the satisfaction of punching Konig right in the nose.
Konig chuckled, winked, and jumped off the stage to saunter away. Looking around wildly, Rum saw Konig had distracted him long enough for Uther to leave. It was too late. They were bringing his Liese here, and would make her one of them. Alone in the spotlit platform, Stillskin closed his eyes, and let the fury build.
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