Marked for Pleasure

The
Star of Pleasure
loomed in Rhea's viewscreen. There it was. Her final destination. The surrounding space folded around her small shuttle. She quickly switched her engines to docking mode and sent her credentials to the huge vessel. He would be there. He had to be.

The bastard.

Conner Mitchum. The fucking asshole who had killed her family.

“Welcome to the luxurious fantasy ship,
Star of Pleasure
,” the docking station's voice purred. “Whatever your need, we will fulfill it. Please follow our instructions and enjoy your stay.”

Rhea flicked the harnesses from her arms and then shouldered her bag. She took a deep breath. She was Honey Zenia, eager submissive, ready to find a hot, sexy dominant. Could she pull this off? She had to. She stepped down the gangplank of her vessel and into the large shuttle bay.

“This way, Ms. Zenia,” a sexy blond man in a tight uniform said. He led her to the registration center on the ship.

All around her were holographic pictures of sexual positions, menus for every deviant appetite. The com played sultry mood music created to excite the senses and imply the sex act. She couldn't say it wasn't working.

After two years, she still wasn't used to it. Oh, most people in the universe were used to this kind of thing, but her colony had been isolated and strict about sexual misconduct. Survival had been the name of the game, not these erotic luxuries.

A huge vid screen showed her image as she disembarked. What happened to the little backwoods colonist? Rhea barely recognized her own face. Or her blonde hair, which flowed as loosely as the sage green dress that barely covered her. Hard to believe she had once had short, spiky hair and worn coveralls. Of course, it was also hard to believe she had once thought spankings were for errant children.

She looked away. Two years in the seedy world of Conner Mitchum had…changed her. Things she'd considered appalling, frightening, were now a source of curiosity, of fascination.

She had to focus. Her purpose on this ship was not the sensual play that drew others. She'd come to kill a man.

That thought steadied her, strengthened her. She stepped into the long line marked CLIENT INTAKE. Her credentials were good phonies. She didn't need to worry. Not about that. This time, she'd get into a session with Mitchum. This time, he'd choose her.

How long had it taken to discover his weakness? A month?

A sexual dominant, Mitchum had eluded her, stayed just out of reach. He was, after all, a Nyral colonist, where being a dominant wasn't just a hobby but a way of life. But she'd practiced, trained under experienced dominants all over the galaxy, and ignored the odd feelings the play brought out in her. It was a means to an end. That was all.

The processing took time. They checked her health, her identification, her questionnaire. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a voice asked her, “Your safe word, Ms. Zenia?”

A long breath left her lungs. “Stardust,” she answered.

“Your room has been chosen. Please follow the instructions sent to your HITU.”

Her handheld information tech unit beeped, and she stared at the screen. It hadn't been difficult to create the Honey Zenia persona, complete with falsified HITU and planetary passport listing her birth planet as Mercheria. Honey Zenia also had blonde hair and blue eyes, but that was where the resemblance to Rhea Tucker ended. So Rhea's holographic picture had replaced the perfect features of the real Honey Zenia.

Did she really look like a sexually hungry submissive? She doubted it. But it was imperative she try. Conner Mitchum was smart. How many times had she seen him outwit vicious enemies who had tried to kill him?

She knew everything she needed to know about Conner and more. Over the years, her hatred of him had led her into a detailed profiling. She'd seen the sex tapes and had been horrified by the way his body had fascinated her. She'd seen the news vids of him in negotiation conflicts, studied them carefully. It fascinated her, that smooth and pragmatic way he always extricated himself. She could close her eyes and picture him, hear his voice, practically feel his skin. And every night she told herself that this man was the murderer of her happiness. Lately it had been more difficult to set aside the strange feelings, the conflict, he brought out in her. The way her nerves sizzled in anticipation, in excitement, at the prospect of being close to him had to be wrong. Her hatred of what he'd done to her warred with a more nebulous and dangerous attraction to him.

She shoved it aside. She'd come here to kill the man, nothing else.

Her room was luxurious. It should have been. It had cost her everything she owned for a berth on the pleasure vessel. Well, almost everything. She'd kept a little back for the sweet laser pistol she'd smuggled in. After two years, she didn't plan to fail.

A huge control panel covered the wall by the door. A disc on a small table stated it held instructions for the panel. But after waiting two hours, she wanted to get the whole fucking thing over with. End it.

Then she could stop dreaming about the hundreds who'd died, all because Conner Mitchum decided the ship carrying a needed serum to save the human population would be rich with booty. By the time he'd robbed the ship of all its contents, the serum was too late. Of the five hundred colonists on Corilus, four hundred and sixty-five had died.

Including her parents and her sister.

Determined to find a reason, some meaning to their deaths, she'd instead found a man with the answer, and he'd pointed a finger directly at Conner Mitchum. Since then, she'd sought this opportunity, this moment to balance the scales.

First things first. She had to follow the goddamned rules.

The
Star of Pleasure
was just like every other pleasure club. It had procedures, rules to follow. She couldn't just input Mitchum's name and get him. Somehow, she had to entice him, lower his guard, seduce him. Twice she'd had an opportunity to play under him. Both times he'd chosen someone else.

This time, she didn't plan to fail.

She pressed a button on the panel. “Next play session?”

“Welcome, Ms. Zenia. The next play session will begin in thirty minutes.” A list of players appeared on the screen. Her heart jumped in her throat when she saw Mitchum's name.
Perfect.