She had decided, therefore, to unite pleasure with necessity by proceeding at once to the final machine, the one Bane and Dyre had been dying to try. Marool always enjoyed what she thought of as the end game. The preliminary teasing; the erotic challenge; the moment when it finally dawned on the participant(s) just what was happening; the pleading; the screaming; the final moaned and broken phrases of adoration, when Marool told the victims she might stop if they loved her enough.
Thus, when Marool’s playmates arrived, she greeted them with every appearance of joy and with a generous supply of the treats they liked the most, drinks and rich foods and euphoric drugs. She engaged them in a little preliminary titillation, during which she herself indulged in several glasses of wine that Bane offered her, for the relaxing effect, not the taste. She had had a long, thirsty abstention!
It was Bane himself who suggested the special machine, the only one they had not yet used.
“You’re too young,” teased Marool, who was enjoying herself inordinately and was in no hurry. “That’s for grown-up men.”
“I’m as grown-up as you need,” boasted Bane, with a sidelong glance at his brother. “Both of us are.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t like it.” Marool giggled, a little surprised at the sound coming from her own mouth. My, she had had a little sniffy more than usual. Had Bane slipped some of the euphoric into her wine? Naughty boy. Life was too pleasant at the moment to scold him. She breathed deeply and giggled once again. “It requires a very sophisticated taste.”
“House Genevois gave me sophisticated taste,” Bane said, stroking her thigh. “That’s why I got sent there.”
“Who sent you there, dear? How much did you cost Madame?”
“We’re not Madame’s stupid Hunks,” asserted Dyre. “Bane and me, we’re destined for great things. Our daddy, Thunder his name is, he paid for us because he’s got a future planned for us.”
“Sons of thunder,” said Marool. “Oooh, so powerful.”
“Powerful enough for any old machine,” muttered Bane, flexing his muscles and admiring his erect phallus as reflected fragmentarily among many mirrors.
“Well, then,” Marool purred. “If you think so … “
She staggered to her feet and directed them, Bane there, Dyre here. They were acquiescent, even eager, but somehow, the machine didn’t fit properly. Bane got out of the proper position and knelt down, fussing with the mounting, Dyre turned and twisted, and then joined Bane. “Damn thing,” he muttered.
“It’s perfectly all right!” She laughed, still feeling quite giggly and giddy, far more amused than annoyed.
“It’s not all right. There’s something there that pinches! You don’t believe me, you try it.”
Which she did in a state of high amusement, only to find the cinches closed and the bands locked, and Bane trying to wrench the ring off her finger as the machine started its initially gentle motion.
“Stop this!” she shrieked through a gale of laughter. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”
Bane stopped trying for the ring and growled into her ear. “We know. Our daddy, he told us how you’re the one took us from him and left us in the care of nobodies. He had to come hunting for us over near Nehbe. He says to tell you, him and the Machinist, they’re old friends and kinfolk. He says to tell you, this is his payback for the daughter you were supposed to bear him. He says, tell Marool good-bye for me!”
“Your daddy?” she gasped, breathlessly. “Who?”
Bane was hastily donning his clothes. “Thunder and Ashes, our daddy. You knew him, Marool, bitch. Don’t say you didn’t. There was witnesses, and they told us all about you.”
“Ashes!” she cried, suddenly and horridly aware.
“He found us over near Nehbe, with that goat farmer, where you sent us, you bitch.”
“Oh, by Morrigan, do you know who your mother was? Do you know who I am?”
“Our mother died birthing us, and you’re the bitch stole her babies. Daddy said we had to get rid of you before we could get our inheritance. That’s all we need to know.” He struck her then, hard across the mouth, shutting off further words, then ran for the runnel entrance that gave upon the gardens. Dyre was not far behind him as the machine shifted into a slightly more energetic mode of action.