do to you?”
“Beat me? Kill me? I don’t care.”
“Feed you,” he tells me. “After I chain you down and pleasure you until you beg me to fuck you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I know so. You pretended to be sedated in order to attack me. That will be the last bit of pretense you ever get away with on this ship.”
I can feel his incredible power holding me down, his domination flowing through me in waves of energy which seem to penetrate my flesh. This scythkin is not like others. They are all big and powerful, domineering and overbearing. But they don’t all make me feel like this. There is an electricity between us, a charge which zips from the places his hands touch, right to the soft, wet core of me.
“You almost got the better of me,” he says. I can hear something like respect in his voice.
I wish I wasn’t naked. I wish his hands weren’t so hot and rough and stimulating. I wish there was something I could do about the fact he is chaining me down, securing me to the floor by my four limbs, spreading my thighs apart so he has access to me, and then clipping my feet into restraints which he pulled from the same place he took that medical radar gun thing. He made these for me ahead of time. He always intended to use them on me. I just gave him a reason to do so.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells me. “And dangerous. One of the few humans I know of who ever managed to take the life of a scythkin.”
“I’ve killed dozens of your kind,” I tell him with no small measure of pride. I want to rile him. I want him to know it doesn’t matter if I am lying here, pathetically tied down, waiting for whatever vengeful punishment he might have in mind.
“I know.” He runs his fingers gently through my hair as he says those two words almost lovingly.
I don’t get the impression I disgust or anger this scythkin. At my previous place of incarceration, it was obvious from the way they spoke to me and how they handled me that they considered me an abomination they would rather do without. All the women captured with me were put into a training regime of discipline and rewards. But I didn’t give a fuck about rewards. I just wanted…
“Unhhh….” My thoughts are interrupted by the intense arrival of a wave of pleasure washing over me. My captor is putting my bindings to good use, touching me between my thighs, exploring my body with an adept touch.
Just as I think I cannot take this anymore, that I am going to give in and submit to his orgasmic talents, the world explodes into a cacophony.
WEEOOOO! WEEOOOO! CONTAINMENT BREACH! LEVEL ONE PROTOCOLS INITIATED!
His fingers drift away from my sex.
“Be a good pet,” he tells me. “I have to go.”
He leaves to deal with whatever has breached containment and I am left alone and chained, my body humming with frustrated arousal. I swore I’d never submit this way. I promised myself that I’d rather die than allow myself to be taken by a scythkin. But then life happened. Capture happened. My crew and I were swept up so quickly and efficiently there wasn’t time to sell my life dearly before I was taken by these aliens.
I resisted the first set of captors. They tried beating me into submission, punishing me, humiliating me, whatever they thought would work. Nothing did. My hatred for them made it easy to resist them. And then they sent me here. To this scythkin. He’s of a different brood and maybe even a different breed.
It took him less than an hour to start breaking me down. I wish I knew why, but I think it is something chemical, a reaction between us. I’ve tried to shut down my responses. I’ve tried to retreat into the mental fortress which has been fortified with years of hardship, grief, and pain. But it doesn’t work. Not with him.
I want to resist, but my body is fighting me. I can feel the wetness between my thighs, that light, traitorous trickle of need emerging from me to slick the passage of an alien cock deep inside my flesh.
Everything about this is wrong. We are enemies, he and I. We have both done unspeakable things, and the fact that he is in possession of me does not change what has to be a mutual hatred. The past