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Author’s note: Again, this chapter, the three are having other kinds of fun during the daytime. No extensive sex scenes — but there are trike races!
—
Later, Vaia is flat on the kitchen floor in front of her mistress.
Rebeck is fuming.
“So she tied you up? You didn’t have any choice about it?”
“Yes, Mistress. I told her not to!”
“That’s right. She did,” agrees Sash. She’d convinced Vaia that there was no reason to tell Rebeck how quickly Vaia had changed her tune.
Sash is eating sausages, rather salaciously, as if giving Rebeck a replay of the acts she’d performed on her slave.
“Sash! Stop that!”
“Hehe. I just can’t help myself. They’re irresistible. Just like Vaia’s delicious cock!”
Rebeck seethes.
“So, she had you tied up, and you couldn’t resist at all? And you couldn’t even control yourself from getting hard, while she sucked you off? Three times.”
“That’s… that’s what happened, Mistress.”
“I was starting on a fourth time when you banged on the door to tell us breakfast was ready,” Sash chimes in helpfully.
Rebeck sighs, defeated.
“Get up, Vaia. I can’t blame you for this… Sit down and get some food in you.” She turns to Sash, waving an accusing finger. “You, on the other hand!”
“What? I’m not yours to punish, babe.” Sash is unrepentant, to say the least.
“You know my rules! We had an agreement about this!”
“You might have thought so. That’s not how I remember it.”
“I should have known that you would deliberately try to fuck with me. You know very well that Vaia is making the best progress of anyone we’ve picked up yet, and now you’re undermining it all!” Once the words are out, Rebeck bites down and grinds her teeth. She shouldn’t be letting Vaia know just how well she’s done!
Sash doesn’t respond immediately, instead moving to sit next to Vaia, who is selecting food to put on her plate. Sash strokes her hair gently and kisses her cheek. “Look at her, Reb. Have I ruined the ‘appropriately subservient’ attitude you’ve been trying to put into her? As if it wasn’t there from the start anyway! She’s good as gold, babe! Don’t you think she’s even happier to be here now?”
“That’s not the point, and you know it,” returns Rebeck. But she sits down and begins to eat anyway.
There’s quiet for a while and things seem to Vaia to be calming down.
“You know,” Rebeck says at last, “you’re right, Sash.”
“I am? I mean, yes, of course I am!”
“You’re right. I can’t punish you. Although, believe me, I’ll find a way to get back at you for this!”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
Rebeck nods, then smiles darkly. “On the other hand, even if she was tied up, Vaia still knew my rules and broke them anyway. I really don’t have any choice but to punish her.”
“Oh, come on, babe…”
Rebeck shakes her head sorrowfully. “I really don’t have any choice about it. I am… bound in a web of your creation, Sash.” She undoes her little performance with a quick grin.
“Well, what can you do to her anyway? She’ll just enjoy it.” Sash shrugs.
“I can take away privileges. Sorry, Vaia. No race-day for you today.”
At that, Vaia looks up at Rebeck, lip trembling. “No, please… I really wanted to go! I’m sorry I spoiled your plans, Mistress, really! Is… Isn’t there something else I could do?”
Rebeck appears to think. “You want to go out that much?”
“Yes, Mistress!”
“Hmm. I suppose… And you’ll accept any alternative punishment I select?”
“Of course, Mistress. Anything!”
Rebeck’s smile was one of pleasure at being back in control. “Very well. First, when we go out, you will have a plug in your butt…. And another in your juicy little cunt. So you won’t forget what your time here is really for.”
“Thank you, Mistress!”
Rebeck nods. “Second, you’ll wear my collar. So everyone who sees you, and knows what to look for, will be able to tell you belong to me.”
Vaia hesitates. What if… But no. She doesn’t just want this to be a one-off thing. People are going to find out. Let them. This is who she wants to be now. “Yes, Mistress!”
“Very good. Finally, when we get back, I may treat you to a new experience or two. But, like Sash says, those, you’ll probably enjoy.”
Rebeck’s eyes are smouldering. Vaia stares back, trapped in that gaze like an animal hypnotised by a predator.
Sash can’t help grinning at Rebeck’s successful manoeuvring. “And what about next time?” she asks.
Rebeck turns to her, her eyes narrowing. “What?”
Sash grins, incorrigible. “I’m going to do it again, babe! She’s got a really tasty cock! You should get over yourself and try it.”
Rebeck growls. “You know that’s not happening.” She throws up her hands. “Fine. The damage is done now. Whatever. When you get her, you can suck the little bitch off as much as you like if that’s what you’re into.” She pauses. “But if you have the nerve to ride her precious cock…!”
“When,” corrects Sash. “When I decide to do that.” Vaia’s head snaps across to look at her.
Rebeck groans. “Is that how it’s going to be? Okay. When you decide you need çerkezköy escort my slave’s dick in your desperate pussy, she’ll get punished again for that. And you know she’ll tell me!”
Sash turns to Vaia. “Sorry, baby. Seems to be your lot, doesn’t it? One way or another, you have to suffer, huh?”
Vaia tries hard not to laugh and fails.
Rebeck waves another threatening finger at Sash. “Oh, it’s funny now. But if you keep upping the stakes, you’ll only have yourself to blame when you find you’re on your hands and knees, begging this slut to plow your ass! Just because you want to mess with me!”
Vaia blushes at the image.
Sash just laughs. “Pfft. Whatever. I can do that right now.”
She stands, turns to one side, and bends over the counter, waggling her butt in Vaia’s direction. “Please, baby! I need it right now!”
This is the last straw for Rebeck. She starts laughing too. It starts slow, but soon she can’t stop.
“You two… You’re a pair of fucking idiots. You silly bitches…” Gradually, she calms down. “My bitches though.”
Sash resumes her seat. “Yeah, that’s what we are. Isn’t that right, Vaia?”
“Yes,” says Vaia softly.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” says Sash happily.
Rebeck nods, and get up to put on another pot of khav.
***
The air-car descends towards the race-track.
The ash heaps that cover most of Necromunda’s surface suit trikes well. Here, the Squats have sculpted it into a circuit of bends, humps and jumps. A crowd is gathered around it already.
It all takes a lot of maintenance, Vaia knows. She hasn’t been allowed to watch, but she’s read about it. When strong winds come, they ruin all the work and effort that’s gone into a track. But the Squats make a virtue of it by designing a new circuit each time, keeping it fresh.
They land in a designated area among dozens of other air-cars. They are far from the only Spirers, or Upper Hivers, who have flown down to enjoy the races.
A rotund orange-bearded Squat waddles over as the three get out. He rattles a bucket. “Wilkom, gud fulk! Hundart thalers, biten.”
Vaia struggles to understand his accented Gothic, even if it’s clear what he must mean. Rebeck finds some cash and tosses it into the bucket. “Good luck getting back your Homeworlds.”
The Squat smiles. “Denk u. Tyraniden wilen kaput!” He laughs and is off. Another air-car is landing.
“That was a lot for parking out on the ash wastes!” Vaia notes.
“Not with what we get paid,” says Rebeck. “To real Hive aristocracy, that’s nothing at all. And it’s how the Squats here make their money. From people who aren’t betting, anyway,” she adds, looking at Sash.
“Yeah, babe! I don’t need to rush! My bookie’s taking bets by cogitator now, remember? We’re here in time for the first race. I’ve checked the form on this one. I know who I’ve got my money on.”
A loud speaker crackles, and an amplified voice calls out the details of the first race of the day. It also comes through in a heavy Squat accent, but at least it isn’t in the peculiar patois of the fee collector.
“What about the people who walk in?” wonders Vaia aloud.
“They post some collectors round the periphery,” Rebeck says. “A thaler each. But that’s if they catch you. Some people make a game of running it. If you make it to the crowd, they don’t really mind. Most of their profit comes from the betting anyway. And the broadcast deal now, I guess.”
It’s a very… classless place, Vaia thinks. People from up and down Hive Acropolis, all rubbing shoulders. There doesn’t seem to be any segregation by what level you’ve come in from. This sort of thing doesn’t really happen anywhere else, she thinks to herself. Spirers. Upper, Mid and Low Hivers. Even Underhive gangs… She even sees the distinctive headgear of a few of the nomads who live by crossing the wastes!
Rebeck puts an arm round her shoulders. “You’re really excited, huh?”
“This is great!” She hugs her. “Thank you for letting me come… Rebeck.” It’s odd to say the name, but ‘Mistress’ is for when they’re in private.
Rebeck kisses her forehead. She gives Vaia a little poke between her legs too. “How are you feeling?”
Vaia nods. “It’s fine.” Mistress was quite kind about it. The plugs inside her holes are pretty small. Just symbolic, she supposes. Like the collar around her neck. Looking around at the diverse crowd, it was obvious that there was nothing about a woman in a Van Saar suit wearing a discreet little collar that would draw attention. Even with her hair down.
She leans against Rebeck as they walk into the crowd. Sash comes up on the other side of her.
The spectator areas bank up a little from the track, but the slope really isn’t that steep. It is not easy to get a clear view of the circuit past the hundreds of spectators in front of them, many of them much taller than Sash or Vaia.
Rebeck frowns. “Well, it’s fine for me, but you shorties aren’t going to be able to see anything. We should’ve got here earlier.” Taller than most of the crowd, she looks around. “Hmm, there’s a space cevizli escort over by that curve where there’s hardly any spectators,” she notices.
“No!” exclaims Sash. “Fuck’s sake, do you never watch this sport? Trikes fly off at those bends all the time! The people standing there are thrill-seekers. Or they’ve got actual death wishes.”
Rebeck grunts an acknowledgement. She keeps looking around. There’s no space closer to the track to be seen, let alone any good unoccupied vantage points. “They could make a lot of money if they built some real stands that people could pay for,” she suggests.
“Not going to happen,” says Sash. “Most Squats are levellers. Pretty hard-core about it. Not going to arrange special treatment for the rich. I hear they’re planning to put up a really big screen, so all the crowd can see the highlights.”
“What’s the point of coming down in person, then watching it on a screen anyway?”
Sash shakes her head. “For the atmosphere, dumbass! For the society! You can meet anyone and everyone at the races! Anyone worth meeting, for sure.” She adds, “Excepting people whose Houses keep them away like our little cutie here, of course. Anyway, I can follow it all on my cogitator feed. I’m used to that.”
“That makes for an easy solution then,” says Rebeck.
Vaia finds herself picked up, and placed on Rebeck’s shoulders. She hasn’t done this since… She grins happily, feeling like a little kid.
***
It’s just in time. The announcer booms out starting orders. She can see the racers! Eight trikes. Even idling, their engine sounds carry, audible despite the hubbub of the crowd.
They’re minimal, stripped-down vehicles. Just a roll-cage, some other superstructure around the engine, and their big wheels. A goggled Squat is strapped into each one, most of them puffing on cigars as they wait for the starting bolt.
The crowd’s tone changes as anticipation builds. The racers gun their engines. Then, there’s the boom of a heavy bolt shell…
They’re off!
The crowd cheers, but the roaring engines overwhelm other sounds. They’re so loud!
The pack takes off towards the first bend.
The lead trikes swerve this way and that, jockeying for position and to deter those behind them.
Vaia whoops and cheers as she watches. Rebeck can’t help but smile, happy for her.
Already at the first bend, the rear trike nearly slides off the turn into a knot of Goliath boys, who must be juiced up to the eyeballs. It manages to stay on track, but looks to be out of the running already, as the rest of pack come off the bend and hit the first jump.
The crowd lets out a collective ‘Ooo’ as the trikes fly through the air, hitting the ground and bouncing in a spray of ash.
The trike that finds its grip first gets the advantage, and turns it into a lead.
There’s a hump next. As the trikes take it, she sees that they either take it fast, and make it another, smaller jump, or slow, keeping their grip. She wonders how the tactics work. Or maybe they just take it based on mood and feel? She has to wonder how much control they can have at all on a surface like this!
Every curve, jump or hump is a spectacle, and the standings keep changing. Only after a full lap do the racers begin to get strung out.
“How many laps?” Rebeck asks Sash.
“Three for this race,” Sash says.
Vaia is entranced by the race. She’s having the time of her life!
The race progresses. One trike stalls and has to withdraw. And the back-marker that messed up the first turn has been left far behind the rest. But all the other six seem to be more or less in contention.
It’s on the third lap that things really get crazy. Frowning, Vaia realises that each trike must have one shot of some kind of turbo-fuel. One by one, when the rider thinks they see an opportunity, they rocket forward at high acceleration.
One of the trikes totally misjudges a turn, shooting straight off the track and barely missing one of the crazy or suicidal spectators out there.
Another goes into a spin, ending up facing the wrong way. The rider jumps out, cursing at high volume.
One more mistimes a speed burst, and misses a jump entirely on the inside of the track. It’s flagged out as disqualified.
Two trikes end up neck-and-neck on the final straight. Neither has used their boost yet.
“Come on…” Sash mutters.
Vaia looks down. Sash is tense. It seems the trike Sash has backed is one of the lead two.
The two racers must hit their switches within fractions of a second of each other. It’s a straight test of speed.
The crowd holds its breath.
Vaia can’t tell why, but one trike zooms ahead of the other in the last metres.
“Yes!” Sash shouts, jumping on the spot.
The crowd goes wild. The winning trike does a victory lap, doing wheelies, the rider waving at the crowd.
Rebeck lowers Vaia to the ground.
“Whee, that was brilliant! You won, Sash?”
“Yeah!” Sash gives her a sloppy kiss. “You must be a good luck charm, baby. Come on! Drinks are on me, babes!”
Most cide escort of the crowd begins to retreat back from the track.
“What’s going on?” Vaia asks. “There’s more races, right?”
“Yeah,” says Sash. “Five more. But usually, the second race has the least experienced riders. It’s more dangerous to be too close. Bad luck. They might spin off anywhere around the circuit.”
Rebeck shakes her head. “What’s the casualty count at these, Sash?”
“For the crowds? Oh, it doesn’t usually hit double figures. For deaths that is.”
Away from the track, there are sellers of fast food and algal beer. The three get drinks and toast Sash’s winning bet.
Sash downs her algal beer in one. She’s energised.
“So let me guess,” says Rebeck. “You’re putting all your winnings on the next race?”
Sash surprises her. “Nah. Just 10 per cent of them.” She points at Vaia. “This one coming along makes me think something’s really happening for us. Gonna save my money better.”
“If you stick to that,” says Rebeck, “my mind will be blown.”
Sash laughs. “People change, babe. I change every day.”
***
For the third race, they head back towards the circuit. From her position on Rebeck’s shoulders, Vaia feels like she has the best seat in the house.
The thrill doesn’t dull for her as each race culminates in a different kind of unpredictable struggle.
The final, showcase race has twelve trikes, and is a tense, hard-fought battle over eight laps. One of the trikes uses its boost off the start, but is then steadily reeled in by the rest. The final lap sees three trikes exchange the lead among them, often going tire-to-tire.
On the third curve from the finish, while two are battling each other, the third somehow finds a different line, and hits its boost off the bend, racing away to a lead which proves enough for the victory.
The crowd roars — and a few celebratory shots are fired into the air — enjoying the day’s final victory lap before they begin to disperse.
Rebeck lets Vaia down, and they start to trudge back to the air-car, but Sash pulls them another way.
“Come on, you guys. You want to take a look at the trikes, don’t you, Vaia?”
“Yes!” says Vaia eagerly.
They walk across the ash towards the pits. There are plenty of tough-looking Squats around who look ready to turn away any unwanted visitors. But they seem to recognise Sash. She gets a lot of nods, and the three are let through the cordon without incident.
The trikes are laid out on a long row, their powerful engines canted up to make maintenance or repairs easier.
“Oi, bitch,” Sash calls loudly at a figure under one of them in oily coveralls.
The Squat mechanic rolls out from under. She squints upwards. “Oi, bitch, yerself.”
She grabs Sash’s hand and pulls herself up.
“Babes, this is Frere,” Sash says. “Best engineer on the circuit. Frere, these are Rebeck and Vaia.”
The Squat girl looks way up at Rebeck. “You talked about the crazy tall bitch a lot. Never mentioned a Van Saar girl though.”
“Vaia’s new. But she’s settling in great. She’s a bit of a gear-head, you know.”
“Oh really? You want to take a look?” she asks Vaia, indicating the trike.
“Yes! I’d love to!” Vaia says.
With Frere’s permission, she dives under the machine’s engine. “It’s a Furthermore Heavy frame,” the mechanic begins to explain.
Sash and Rebeck stand back as the two get technical.
Rebeck shrugs. “Let’s make ourselves useful and fetch some beers.”
When they return, having managed to snag a couple of cases, they find Vaia and Frere leaning against the trike, sharing a cigarette and chatting away like old friends.
All four sit down in the ash, and crack open bottles.
Frere points at Vaia. “This one never saw a trike before today. But she’d looked at some specs once, she says. Knows what almost every last piece of the engine is called and what it’s there for.”
“Isn’t that true of any mechanic?” Rebeck puts forward.
“Not many human ones, in my experience,” Frere returns. “If she were one of us, I’d take her on like that.”
Vaia smiles, and takes a drink.
“Anyhow,” says Sash, “we know all about our sweet Vaia’s many talents. What about you, Frere? Not a great day today, huh?”
“Fine day for me. Trikes performed well. It were the riders that were shit.”
Rebeck laughs. “Fuck, I’m sorry to hear that.” She looks around. “All of you are… fine with us hanging out here?”
Frere waves it off. “Squats in exile can’t afford to push away any humans who find any reason to maybe like us.” She points as Sash. “This one taking it into her head that we’re cute is as good a reason as any.”
“It’s that bad for you here?” Vaia asks.
“I’ve been in more liveable areas,” Frere admits. “We moved out onto the wastes because the hives were too dangerous for us. Well, it’s dangerous for everyone there, I guess, but even more for us. Plus, it was hard to get decent work — hard manual labour, especially if it involved getting into tight spaces? Sure. Anything that would be in line with our qualifications? Not a chance. We thought about building land trains, to get into the business of shipping cargo between hives. But the nomads made it clear that they’d kill us if we threatened their business.” She sighs. “Then we got word from our brethren on Calastia. Trike-racing was working out for them. So now we’re entertainers, I guess.”
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