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No sooner have I finished having this thought than several aliens come past the opening of our hole carrying armfuls of technical-looking things.
“What is that?”
Isu answers from the rear of the machine parts train going deeper into the earth.
“We’re taking apart the ships. We’ll use the materials to create food replicators, liquid conduits. Cages, for humans who are thinking about making a mistake by trying to escape.”
Asshole.
Isu hands his armful to another warrior and comes to me, crouching down in front of me to speak with gruff intensity that makes my insides tremble.
“I know you think you’re going to escape. You’re not.”
His body still glows, but his eyes are dark. How did I ever fail to notice the absence of soul? The swallowing nature of the wyrms they take with them reflects their inner emptiness.
“You’re the worst.”
“I don’t care.”
He stands up and carries on his way. These creatures worship him, but I loathe him. The Fendinn have found their new home. Their destruction is ensured, but distant, and so they celebrate a temporary reprieve while the young of their wyrm eats through the core of the planet, becoming the monster it will one day be by slow degrees.
I try to pull the chain from my leg, but it is tight. It will come off eventually. Maybe I can sweat it off. Or maybe I can get some grease and sort of ease it off. Or maybe… maybe I’m fucked.
* * *
He comes to me an hour or two later, bearing a bowl of something that smells like cooked meat. My stomach growls. I am desperately hungry. I am sure he can hear that sound. He takes immediate advantage; sitting in front of me, he reaches into the bowl and takes the meat in his hand.
“Food,” he says. “You can eat from my fingers, captive.”
I’d like to bite his fingers, but I don’t. I suck the chunks of whatever it is off his fingers, feeling humiliation flare inside me, but knowing there is a reason for this.
He looks down at me, the void of his eyes taking me in. I feel as though he can see right through me, sense my plans, read my thoughts. I’m sure he can’t. If he could, he wouldn’t be giving me more food. He’d be punishing me again with that leather lash that makes me quiver and scream all the way to orgasm.
“What are you thinking, Aspel?”
“I’m just thinking how much of a delight it is to serve you.”
If he were human, he would raise a brow. As it is, his expression does not change, but I feel the brow raise anyway, in the very core of me.
“You are a very, very bad girl,” he drawls.
“Oh, no, Master. I am embracing my submission.”
“You’re not,” he says. “But you will. It is only a matter of time.”
“Of course, sir,” I say, keeping my voice controlled. He’ll get nothing from me but this shell of submission. It is only a matter of time before he mistakes this for real, and then I will unleash chaos like they have never seen. Well, maybe not. They have seen a wyrm eat their world. But I will certainly make him regret doing this to me.
“Are you still hungry?” He offers me more food. I take it from his fingers, lightly and without hesitation even though hot embarrassment is flowing through my veins.
“I’m always hungry for you, sir,” I say, chewing, looking up at him with what I hope are wide, innocent eyes. Here in the dark, I see little other that my rage reflected in the red glow of his massive body.
* * *
Isu
She’s an insolent little thing. I can feel her rebellion and I know she is trying to toy with me. What she doesn’t know is that it will never work. I can read her to the very core of her being. We are connected. One. We always will be.
I keep feeding her, enjoying her expressions, the way she struggles with herself with every bite. This is shameful for her, I know that. But I do not intend for it to merely be shameful. I want her to depend on me. I want her true submission, which I know will only come after this pretense.
“What could I give you that might let you settle into captivity?”
“Give me?” I can tell the question surprises her. She believes me to be a tyrant, which I am. But a good tyrant knows that reward must be part of the scheme of control. Punishment means nothing if it is constant.
“Yes,” I say. “I am asking you to forego the world, to join me here in the dark with only brief periods in the light. I am willing to give you something to make that more bearable.”
“You’re not asking, you’re forcing.”
“Precisely. But. What if I could offer you something as payment?”
