Chapter 18
Breath torn from her, arms flailing, falling into the chasm between buildings, Ember had prepared for death.
Ig had sacrificed himself on the fall. Appearing under her and pushing, he’d tried to save her. She’d heard the whirr of his little wings and maybe felt that other dimensional power being used to slow her descent. It was yet another impossible. She figured fate owed her anyway.
Then Baz, or whatever was this contorted monster he’d become, had wrenched her from the air. He tumbled down the building, slowing them, landing them both in a pile of rotting leaves and the gods knew what. He’d brought her deep into the under structure of this festering forest-city world, then torn or stripped the ropes from her. In shock that she lived, she’d watched him run off. Too late to beg that he stay.
The data knife had slipped from inside her and she didn’t know where it had fallen. It seemed so trivial now, in the face of everything that’d happened.
Here stank. Rotting plant or animal, rotting water for all she could tell. There was Xatar blood on her as well as some of the cyborg’s. In saving her, he’d hurt himself.
She was alive.
Ig was gone too. She thought he lived, though what he’d done must’ve strained his power to the limits. It could’ve killed him. She’d even checked under her butt to be sure she’d not squashed him. He healed better in his elsewhere space, so perhaps he was licking his wounds there and would return later.
Ig wasn’t immortal. How she knew that, she wasn’t sure. Her childhood mentor might’ve told her long ago.
Crouching, shivering, she looked about and saw nothing. At least that man had stopped screaming. A Xatar, hopefully. She’d seen Hoss fighting. The orc was strong, agile. He must have survived.
She believed that. She found each hand with the other, threaded her fingers together, gripped tight. The scratches and bruises on her body must number in the dozens yet nothing seemed broken.
Believe.
Hoss might’ve walked out on her, but she wanted him still, liked him so much his death would have her bawling. She’d asked him to leave though. And here he was saving her. Or trying to.
Please be alive, Hoss.
Dark here, so dark the drip of water consumed her senses.
The creak of long-dead, buried buildings. Dead people too, she guessed. Most things down here would be dead.
Must not panic. She wiped her eyes with her fingers, sniffled.
She was alive.
Two choices. Die in the dark or find the light.
Something rustled closer, breathed on her and snorted. A man’s nose touched her neck. She managed not to jerk.
“Baz? Baz, are you okay?” She knew his scent and recognized the cybernetic arm he’d slid across her back.
That scent weaved and ripped through her and hit home, energizing her desires.
She shuddered and curled forward over the aching part of her, groaning. It wasn’t just Hoss who aroused her. He hadn’t done this to her. Someone else then...
A chemical reaction. An aphrodisiac of some kind. A targeted one.
Fuck. She rocked, with her palm over her clit, fingers venturing lower.
Baz grunted, licked her neck then scooped her up, his arms firm and hard under her body. He began to run into the dark, as if he could see precisely where he was going. She clutched the hard shoulder muscle above his biceps, turned her head, and bit down onto his neck, squirming in his arms, whimpering.
The cyborg grunted and held her tighter, as if to be sure she stayed in place, in his arms.
Resist?
Not happening. She’d had enough of resisting today, after being made to walk naked before a squad of Xatar and whipped; after needing to come for hours, she’d had enough. Denial was no longer a choice. Ember snuggled in, somewhat desperate, holding the torn remains of his shirt and biting the back of her thumb.
He jogged onward.
Ahead, green light showed. Baz stopped and kissed her, full mouth on mouth, no delicacy, his roughness and bristly chin scraping new abrasions on her lips. This act shook her. She was snarled in lust and in thoughts of fucking to the point where nothing else mattered. When he paused to set her on her feet and slip fingers into her slit, she sighed and parted her legs, listening to the wet noises of him finger-fucking her, bracing her hands on his body.
Aphrodisiac.
“Fuck me,” she whispered, clenching, making small sounds that should bother her but didn’t. She didn’t care. She didn’t care if she begged and pleaded and brought herself down to the level of the gutter. She needed to be fucked by Baz or Hoss, or both, and the world could go obliterate itself.
But someone had done this. Someone set her mind on this one-track course.
Baz pushed her, bent her so she was on all fours, the rough ground under her palms. Without warning he shoved his cock into her but only entered to a depth of an inch or two. She squealed at the pain, gasped and grunted at the pleasure, clawed the floor. Anything inside her, in the state she was in, was heaven.
Eyes kept wide, she realized he was as big as Hoss. He fucked her wetly if shallowly, unable to enter deeper, then stopped and carried her to the center of the soft green light.
There was water here, a raised but heavy wooden floor that echoed under the cyborg’s heavy feet, and a large disc of mottled-green terraced metal set into the ground and surrounded by leaves and earth.
Far over, near a wall, a rectangular pool of water rippled and shone, dappled by light and the rush of a narrow waterfall pouring from a window far above.
An ancient swimming pool washed clean by relentless wet seasons.
The coolness contrasted with the heat of her body and his. Her nostrils dilated at his scent.
Baz set her on her feet again in the middle of the disc then tore off the remains of his shirt. He sneaked his hand about her neck with thumb caressing her collar bone gently, but when she moved from his grasp, he snarled.
Such a primitive noise. It spiked a little fear into her, but she felt her clit pop higher. Nasty man.
Ember sucked in her bottom lip. Fascinated, she raised her hand and placed it on his wrist, let it slide down the muscles that definitely bulged larger and harder than she remembered. He was naked, not a scrap of clothes. Though his obviously cybernetic side gleamed with metal both his shoulders were so massive he looked top-heavy and his back bowed. Old blood stained his ribcage and dribbled from cuts on his arm and neck.
Touching him.
Her fingers splayed on his chest as it rose and fell. So firm, so warm. Sweat made her fingers slide, made her thoughts slip to bad, nasty, depraved places. She found his navel and circled it, played in the blood-hued slick sticking his hair to his skin.
Half of him cyborg, half man, and something else now too. He had the heft and presence of a formidable killing machine, yet he was gentle with her. Maybe gentle was the wrong word.
His mouth twisted and she swore as his eyes took on a menacing aura. She’d not be surprised to hear his arteries pumped metal and blood.
“What are you?”
Did he understand?
Her legs began to shake. If she said fuck me would that be disgusting?
She wanted to.
He leaned in, wrapping rope around her neck and knotting it but stopping short of strangling her, then he tied the loose end to a rusted link of metal set into the disc.
This was the rope he’d taken off her. As if she couldn’t undo a knot. Except...it was slipmeknot rope. Genetic ID. Whoever tied the knots commanded it. Though he’d torn it from her, she’d never have the strength.
Being caught and tied in place like a pet he owned made her throat close in. How good his cock had felt, even shallowly within. Her need increased to a painful throb.
Head down, she whispered what she had to. “Fuck me.” Her toes curled into the dry leaves underfoot.
His face was inches from hers, his own contorting. He staggered back.
Her gaze ripped down the muscles of his body to his large black erection with the metal bands and the flat rivets. She didn’t blink. That might hurt going in. Would. Hurt.
Her second plea was louder. “Fuck me.” She gulped. “Please.”
She wrapped herself in her arms, hugged herself tight, rocked, and strived not to whimper.
This wasn’t her.
He paced before her, appearing to be as disturbed as she was.
His repeated chant of fuck-fuck-fuck was more grunting than speech.
Aphrodisiac.
Who benefited from this?
The DSU. Was that it? Who wanted it?
The answer came to her, through the lust haze, through the drool gathering in her mouth at the thought of sucking his big black, steel-reinforced cock into her mouth or letting him thrust it into her. She almost choked on her anticipation.
Instead she swallowed, carefully, then said, “You. Did. This.”
He stomped back to her until almost within her reach, if she stretched against the rope around her neck. Ember put her hand to the rope, sighing at the ownership implied. His cock was rampant, wobbling, and surely as long and thick as her forearm.
Oh gods, yes... She wet her lips. She crouched and went to hands and knees, spread her legs, swayed her hips, trying to entice him to...
He stomped closer and dug fingers into her hips then yanked her into position before him. Looking over her shoulder she saw the string of thick fluid dripping from the tip, connecting him to floor, then swiping across her butt in a white line as he poised himself to enter.
Then he stuck it in again, no preamble.
The force made her eyes roll upward, made her whine and gasp, then mutter that bad word, fuck over and over as if by doing so she’d make him plow her more, harder, deeper.
He forged in again, a battering ram destroying all resistance.
Except there was none, barring her flesh that strained and hurt so good, as she stretched to accommodate his impossibly huge member. Her spine bowed and she wore her nails out scrabbling.
Quivering at the storm of sensations, at what he made her take, she shoved her ass higher, curling her front down until her breasts kissed the metal, letting him see all of her. Begging. Please, please, please.
The hum and throb communicated from his dick wasn’t normal but it impelled her higher, fucking with her brain in unison to his actual thrusts.
He carved in, splitting her, shoving her cunt aside, drilling into her hole.
If there was blood, if there was damage, she cared not.
She wanted this fucking machine.
Wetness dribbled down her thighs. His thumb pushed into her ass and he used it not to fuck her there but to hold her in place for the next ram of his cock.
Whimpering, she let him slide her on hands and knees along the leaf-covered metal.
“More?” He rasped that out, as if his throat was as shredded as his body.
Unsticking tongue from roof of mouth she blurted a “Yes!”
He paused and something happened within, a hundred points of minor pain erupted, rendered her cunt into a maelstrom of agony that swiftly rolled over into a ruptured pleasure dragged out of her by some uncalled for, unholy means.
“Ohhh.” What the fuck. Eyes slammed shut, her neck arched and in an involuntary spasm she clung to his dick.
Baz laughed, sounding both pleased and shocked. He growled, pulled her head backward by her hair and bit her neck. “Fuck.” He rammed in.
Plain and simple. Spikes. Her mouth was open and she struggled to breathe, blinking.
Spikes. If that was what was poking her, if he thrust again...
He did so, deep and slow, then deeper again, sliding along inside her cunt...scraping.
“Oh. Oh. Oh fuuuck.” Her arms stiff props, she dug her nails into metal that didn’t give. Her choked words came out as screwed and torn as she would be inside if he used more force.
If not for the preparatory basja, she’d be more than fucked, but she felt herself relax then tighten down, hurting, relaxing again, anticipating the pain, embracing the metal inside her.
Snorting, Baz curled his fists over her breasts, crushing them. He shoved and halted, rooting himself at the very end of her pussy, his cock like an iron bar within her. He jammed in another infinitesimal distance and...came. The flood of his come brought her to the brink then flung her into orgasm. Tears sprang from Ember’s eyes and dribbled away as she bucked, once...twice, against him.
She was filled and fucked, and gulping for air, when he rolled her over onto her back. His cock stayed inside, his come still jetted, then he thrust once more but shallow. And again. In deep, but each thrust barely withdrew before he regained his territory.
Possession, this was male possession, and she couldn’t unlock her eyes from his.
He snarled and bit her shoulder, her breast, clawed at her, lightly.
Whimpering, she wriggled under him.
Thoughts began to tease her, puzzle pieces shifted. The cybermonks. It had been them.
They’d given her this beast, this lust, this most incredible sex. Hoss had been good, but this...it made her both jubilant and sad. Had this been betrayal?
The cybermonks had set her on this course, and Baz, made her desires incandescent. Turned him into an animal, her into a slavering, dribbling whore.
She made a scrawled note, somewhere at the back of her mind, to make them pay.
For giving her...
Fucking ecstasy incarnate.
That.
When he pulled out the fluids gushed and spilled, wetting her thoroughly. She saw close-up what had been inside her. His cock lolled like a sleeping snake. The girth was lessening but impressive. How had she fit that?
Eyes sparking with renewed vigor, he walked around to her head end, reached down and pulled at her hair until she climbed, squeaking, to her hands and knees again.
Surely not?
He grunted a sound almost like open. His cock waved before her mouth.
He couldn’t?
He could. Already it stiffened. Mesmerized, she opened her mouth and he stuffed it in. Her clit and pussy warmed, arousal resurfaced in an instant. Then he pushed between her lips until his cock could go no further. Baz commenced to fuck her mouth. If he was a beast, his cock was twice the monster he was.
Gagging, eyes watering, she gazed down the length shunting in and out, and she squeezed her thighs together, shocked by the heaviness down there, by the building tension, by the pleasure rolling in. She pressed her thighs together in time to his mouth fucking, groaning past her mouthful.
She was going to come again.
This had to be wrong. The Xatar was right. She was a whore. The best kind.