Ember of War by Stephan Morse

Author:Stephan Morse [Morse, Stephan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Published: 2017-09-01T06:00:00+00:00

Part VIII

Lee stomped down the narrowed hallways of the building. The most recent in a chain of endless cigars sat between his lips. He swished it around—aching to light up the stogie and puff through the local Armageddon in relative happiness. Nicotine didn’t provide the same release firing a gun did, but it helped kill time until someone caved and approved his request for real guns.

People shuffled by carrying cargo to the other building. They gave the soldier as much space as the hallway allowed. Belongings were boxed up then put into thin closets. Weight balances mattered when leaving orbit. Once the ship lifted off everything not bolted down would risk sliding around.

The soldier pressed the buzzer for Becky’s room. The door opened and only showed one light. Lee sniffed the air. A different smell to normal, one that he couldn’t place, wafted out of the room. He pulled at the cigar and checked to see if it had lit, or if he had picked a brand that gave off a vanilla scent.

“Becks? What did you want?”

“Come in,” she said with a firm voice.

He stepped inside, then froze at the sight. She had heels on. Tall, black platforms that added three inches of height. Solid latex hugged foot to thigh on an otherwise naked leg. The cigar fell as his mouth gaped. His gaze leisurely traveled up her body.

“Someone’s being a bad soldier,” Becky said. Her hands unclasped a bra, and it dropped to the floor along with the rest of her garments. Lee hadn’t made it to her face yet, but he could hear the smirk. “If you won’t listen to orders, then I’ll just have to make you listen.”

Lee paused at her trimmed bush and tried to get his mind working right. He asked the first stupid question to register, “Does this have to do with my gun—”

“Kneel!”

Lee’s mouth attempted to work as his knees buckled. Orders from a superior officer, however tiny in stature, were to be obeyed. It was conditioned in him after decades of war. His arms stayed listless as the gears in his brain caught on to the situation.

“Stay,” she ordered while walking around him.

The door behind Lee closed.

He turned his head.

“You want your gun?” Becky asked.

Lee figured out what the scent was and started to react. His mind still hadn’t caught up, but he was smart enough to nod.

She stepped in front, presenting Lee a very clear picture of her current state of undress. Her legs spread slightly. Becky said, “Then I expect you to work for it.”

His gaze made it further up. From their close angle, he could see the edge of patches just below her shoulder. Three markings for different types of stimulus. One of them, The Chair, was a patch like the Happy Patch, only it helped keep a person driven and focused. The patch often provided clarity and a strong desire to order people around.

The combination often made her emotions a hot mess. Adding a Heart Throb would unbalance her until everything inside burned out from pleasurable exhaustion.

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