The pressure he maintained with his upper body and legs strained even his steel-cable sinews and muscles, and his knees shook uncontrollably, knocking together from time to time.
Looking down between his legs, he saw a very dim yellow pinpoint of light, like a single star shining in the black gulf of space. He was seeing into the King’s Chamber—Nefron had told him it was illuminated by several braziers.
Then, with a frightening suddenness, the narrow shaft he had been creeping down suddenly opened up. He nearly fell, but his rear end struck a shelf of stone projecting from the shaft wall. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew a long finger of rock jutted out from the opposite side. As he eased his weight down on the shelf, he was very careful to place his feet properly, so as not to kick and dislodge the keystone lever.
For some time he sat on the stone slab, gasping for air, his back wet with sweat and a little blood from abrasions picked up during his ascent. Every muscle in his body seemed to be alive with pain, and he vigorously rubbed his calves so they wouldn’t cramp.
He took a long drink from his water skin, and when he tilted his head back, he saw a dim circle of light far, far above. The sun was making its ascent into the sky. By the time it began its descent, the shaft would be flooded with sunlight and would throw the keystone lever into sharp relief.
Jak touched his blaster in its holster. The heavy butt would make a serviceable substitute for a hammer.
MILDRED WAITED for the next lash of the whip, tensed herself to hear it sing and crack through the air before it flayed the flesh from her body. She heard nothing but the heavy breathing of Mimses and the rustle of cloth.
Then she felt Mimses pressing his naked body against hers, his flabby belly on her hips, his reeking breath washing over her face. He caressed her breasts with one hand.
“Tell me, brown sugar,” he husked out. “Tell me quick or I’ll kiss your pretty flanks with this.” He flicked out the whip so she could see it.
Mildred refused to answer.
Mimses chuckled and pushed himself away from her. She hazarded a quick backward glance, expecting to see him in a state of sexual arousal. Beneath his sagging stomach, his shriveled penis hung flaccid and limp. She groaned inwardly, and her stomach did a leap-frog of nausea.
She knew it made no difference whether she told him what he wanted to know. Mimses was impotent, and his exercise in sadism was either an alternative to the sex act itself or a preliminary to it, assuming he could get himself excited enough to perform.
The knotted thongs whistled through the air and curled around her loins. Mildred endured the humiliation and the pain without making an outcry. She strained against the cuffs imprisoning her wrists.
With each crackling snap, the lash left streaks of fire across Mildred’s flesh. She kept her teeth sunk into her lower lip and continued to pull and twist at the cuffs as though she were writhing in hellish agony. Her skin dampened with perspiration. As the whip continued to flick out and stroke her, she realized she was able to slide her right wrist around within its restraint.
She allowed a low whimper to escape her lips. “Stop! Mercy. I’ll tell you!”
Mimses panted, took a lungful of air and said hoarsely, “So soon? I could keep this up all night.”
Mildred sagged in the cuffs, trembling violently. “I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you,” she repeated brokenly.
Mimses came to her side, his body foul with the stink of exertion. He leaned in close, and Mildred felt a slight pressure against her thigh. Through slitted eyes, she saw his half-erect penis brushing her skin.
“And speaking of keeping it up,” he said with a grin, “I’m not so sure I want to stop our game just now.”
Mildred threw her body backward, bracing her feet against the wall, wrenching and yanking with all her strength. Her shoulder socket twinged, the skin on her wrist tore and her right elbow drove into Mimses’s throat with a sound like an ax chopping into wood.