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“What is happening! You’re killing me! You’re breaking me!”
“I am just barely warming your ass,” he growls.
“Rath!” I scream his name. “Please! Show me mercy!”
“Mercy!” he laughs, continuing to spank me with those swift slaps which jolt my ass and grind my sex against his thighs. “The last thing you need or deserve is mercy.”
“My water is escaping me!”
“At both ends,” he observes. “You are crying, human. It is normal to cry when you are being spanked. There’s no need to panic.”
Every one of those reassuring words is accompanied by another sharp slap of his large alien skin, his augmented hand making my bottom sting even more than I thought it could. This is such a strange pain, one that does not indicate serious damage, but which nonetheless cannot be ignored.
“You are here,” he says. He makes the most obvious statements, and yet when he says those things, they feel as though they mean something. I am here. I am here with him. I am alive, even though I shouldn't be. His words resonate somewhere inside my gut and replace the gray blankness which used to suffuse my insides with something altogether more colorful.
He slides his hand around my throat and draws me up from his lap to sit instead of lounge in a punishment position. My thighs spread for him out of instinct, a kind of original programming which goes back to the very dawn of humanity.
I have never had a choice. I am attracted to him because my code tells me to be. I am wet for his cock because cold biology insists on it. Following the code feels good. Giving in to the order pre-ordained many hundreds of thousands of years ago is a sweet relief.
We make love on the banks of the blue river, losing ourselves in the commandments of simple biology. The commanding thrust of his hips and the answering submissive roll of mine. He sinks inside me as if he owns me. I am an alien vessel made for his use. I do not know why he has spared my life. I do not know why, or if I matter. All I know is that Rath K’zar pleasures me as nobody else ever has, or ever will. I know there is only him for now, and forever.
“Why. Why. Whyyy…” I moan the question to which there is no answer. The question is as pressing and as unavoidable as the orgasmic pleasure rushing through my blood.
I come so fuzkin' hard I forget the question. The world goes completely dark and then completely light. I clench and I contort. I shake and I moan and I hold onto the creature who insists on inflicting this pleasure on me.
When the pleasure fades, I am cradled in his arms. I am covered in a light sheen of sweat and I am left with the impression of one gold eye and one dark looking at me with what my fevered imagination calls tenderness.
He extends one long finger and uses it to stroke my cheek. “Your quest for the truth will lead you through much pain. But it is necessary pain. It is not pain I should spare you, or pain I will spare you.”
The word pain is repeated time and time again and every time I am stabbed with a strange sense of something like regret and remorse, though for what reason I have no idea.
He gives me pleasure. He makes me safe. Yet when he touches me, I am absolutely wracked with these feelings of uncertainty and confusion. He’s my captor. My tormentor. My lover. He is the desecrator of my carnal innocence, and he is the perpetrator of more crimes against humanity than I can count. Falling for him, giving myself to him makes me guilty.
Even in the aftermath of an orgasm so intense I think I could lose myself forever in his arms, I cannot let the question go. Why is this happening to me?
“Why aren’t I dead? Why were we shot down? Why are you fuzkin' me when you hate humans? Why won’t you tell me what’s happening to me?”
“You want to know why, you have to work it out, Lyric.”
“You’re playing games with me.”
“I do not play games,” he says. “You know so little about yourself. You know so little about this world in which you exist.”
“I know myself.”
His expression solidifies into pure feral granite. “Who were you before you worked for Gettem?”
I don't know. The time before is a vague and fuzzy memory. Since I started working for Gettem I haven’t known what my own face looks like.
“You woke up as a woman you had never been before, an organic component in a machine larger than you could comprehend. It’s not your fault. But it is your responsibility.”
“You have to at least give me a hint.”
