“Even if taken against their will?” Flencik was shocked.
“They must have done something to entice the men. That’s Earth government’s thinking anyway.” Amelia sniffled.
Rajhir’s voice was soft. “That is the fear you faced on Earth, was it not? You did not come to us a virgin, Amelia. I admit it surprised me. You were too inhibited, too frightened of the consequences to have given yourself willingly.”
“Was your first lover like with us?” Breft asked. He sat at her feet so he could look up into her eyes. His steady gaze comforted her.
She rubbed the tears from her eyes. “How do you mean?”
“Without our bite or drugs or alcohol, you try to hold back your desire. Still, you enjoy the sex. Did you enjoy the man who took your virginity as you enjoy us? Hesitant, frightened, but wanting it just the same?”
Amelia remembered Mr. Perkins, his filthy rental, the brutal use he made of her once a week for six months. She swallowed. “It wasn’t like with you because you care for me. Even at the beginning, you were concerned about my pleasure, that I enjoyed myself despite all my fears. For him, it was just sexual satisfaction. He used me, he hurt me, and he could have ruined my life, but he didn’t care.”
She swallowed. Amelia had intended to stop right there, but a lifetime of horror welled within her until it spilled the horrid truth, the part that had truly made the ordeal more monstrous than it should have been. “I didn’t want what happened, but my body – sometimes, it would respond. As much as I hated him and what he was doing, I experienced orgasm a couple of times. I didn’t want to. I didn’t understand how it could happen, but it did.”
Amelia broke down, harsh sobs exploding from her chest. Her legs gave out beneath her, and the men moved as one to stop her fall. The clan carried her to the lounger and draped her across their laps while old grief and terror released itself.
“Why?” she cried out between sobs. “Why would I like it? What is wrong with me?”
“Nothing, nothing, little one,” Rajhir murmured in her ear. “You have come through your ordeal remarkably well.”
“How can you say that?” Amelia wailed. “I like it when I’m dominated, when I feel powerless. I like being too helpless to resist. I even liked being spanked like an unruly five-year-old. How can I possibly be normal when pain and helplessness makes me feel so good?”
“Because you still feel something,” Flencik said. “The reports from Kalquor tell us many Earther women have no sexual urges at all, even with drugs or the bite to enhance pleasure.” He stroked her cheek, his cat eyes sad. “Your leaders have made it almost impossible for Earther females to enjoy sex as it should be. Be glad you can have the pleasure you do.”
“But if you knew what I let them do, you’d be disgusted with me! Maybe not the first man, but the second one — you’d know what a freak, what an abomination I am.”
“Amelia! Amelia!” Rajhir clasped her face between his hands. “Never call yourself these terrible things. I will not hear this.”
His mouth covered hers, as if to devour the ugly words. His kiss was forceful, almost violent. She let him punish her with the embrace. Her lips felt swollen and bruised when he finished, but emotionally Amelia felt better, cleansed even.
“You could never be anything except our beloved,” Rajhir said, his thumb tracing the tender flesh of her mouth. “To prove this, you will tell us of this second man and what he did to you.”
“Oh no, please, I can’t—” Amelia started, but Breft’s face darted forward. His fangs sank into her neck as Rajhir and Flencik held her still. Her resistance faded almost immediately as euphoria crept in. She relaxed, melting in the center of the warm embrace of the three bodies surrounding hers. She sighed, closed her eyes, and floated on a sea of bliss.
The mouth under her jaw withdrew. From some distance, she heard Rajhir’s voice. “Amelia?”
Funny how he sounded far away, yet his deep baritone rumbled through her body. She smiled at how it vibrated through her.
“Amelia?”
“Hmmm?”
“Open your eyes.”
Her lids parted so she could look into the three faces peering down at her. “Hi guys,” she purred.
Flencik darted a glance at Breft. “You injected too much.”
“Perhaps, but she will not mind telling us what we want to know.”
“She is our Matara now, not a prisoner.”
“Not our prisoner, but Earth still binds her.”
“Indeed it does,” Rajhir agreed. “It is time we break the hold her old life yet maintains.”
He smiled at her, and Amelia felt her whole body smile back. He was so handsome, so sexy! Another thrill went through her body at the sound of his deep voice. The Dramok said, “You will not mind telling us of this second man now?”
Amelia licked her lips. “Talking isn’t at the top of my list right this moment.”
That drew deep-throated chuckles from all three men. “I am sure it is not, little one. I will hear your story first, however.” As she started to protest, Rajhir kissed the tip of her nose. “Be a good girl, and you will be well rewarded.”
Heat grew in her belly at the look in his eyes. “Promise?”
“You have my word on it.”
“All right.” Languid in their arms, the potency of Breft’s bite streaming through her body, Amelia no longer felt the anguish of only moments ago. Nothing could penetrate her euphoric mood. She lounged safe and secure from all the pain of her life.
Even remembering the face of the man who’d brought her the greatest pain, the most terrible shame, and the blood-freezing fear failed to conquer the security Amelia now enjoyed.
“His name was Keith Garroway. He was my boss, and he was the chief of police in my town.”
* * * *
“How bad do you want to keep your job?” Chief Garroway asked as he locked his office door.
Twenty-one year old Amelia felt something inside her shrivel at his words. “Have I done something wrong?” she asked. She cast about in her memory for the mistake she must have made to precipitate this sudden threat to her secretarial position. She and her now bedridden mother depended on her tiny paycheck.
“I didn’t say you’d done anything wrong,” the police chief said. “I asked if you want to keep your job.”
Amelia felt tiny in the chair across from his desk as he came close to loom over her. Garroway wasn’t Kalquorian big, but he was tall for an Earther. Tall, muscled, and resting one hand on the gun in his belt.
“I really need this job, sir,” she answered, fighting to keep the urge to sob out of her voice. “My mother is ill, she’s dying, and the doctors’ bills—”
“I don’t want to hear your sad story, princess.” He looked from her face to the locked door back to her face. “I know all that shit already. You just keep your mouth shut, and you’ll keep your job. Stay quiet and nothing bad happens.” He patted his gun as if for emphasis.
“What—” Amelia started, then his hands were clutching her breasts. She gasped and tried to jerk away.
Garroway paused groping long enough to lightly slap her cheek. “Hold still and shut the fuck up. Don’t fuck with me,” he warned as he yanked on the buttons of her blouse. “You know what happens to sluts. If I get the slightest inkling you’ll turn me in, I’ll blow your brains out.”
Amelia gasped in shock at the threat. Even in her dismay, she heard the lack of emotion in his voice and knew he wasn’t bluffing. The words she may have spoken in defiance froze in her throat at the realization she had no defense against this man.
She held herself very still and bit her lips to keep from making a sound. Tears slid down her cheeks, but Chief Garroway paid those no mind as he exposed her breasts. He grunted appreciation as he spilled the heavy globes from her bra. He got on his knees and bent towards her, his mouth open. He latched onto her breast and sucked hard. His teeth closed over her flesh as he clutched the other with an iron grip. Amelia squeezed he
r eyes shut so she didn’t have to watch him bite, slap, and pinch the tender mounds, leaving angry red marks on her golden skin.
Shame filled her as her body responded to Garroway’s brutal play. She clenched her thighs together, trying to keep warm moisture from trickling from her suddenly avid sex. At that moment she despised herself. Her body’s involuntary reactions, so at odds with the horror in her head, made her pulse throb with self-loathing.
While eagerly sucking one throbbing nipple, Garroway thrust his hands under her skirt. He grasped the soft white cotton of her thin panties and yanked them down to her ankles.
Amelia gasped but offered no resistance. Garroway clamped his fist above her elbow and yanked her to her feet as he rose. “Kneel on the seat,” he whispered hoarsely.
She obeyed, knowing what would come next and trying not to think about it. She’d lived this nightmare before with her pig of a next-door neighbor ten years prior.
Amelia gripped the back of the chair hard. Garroway flipped her skirt up to expose her buttocks. His meaty palm cracked against one cheek, making her jump. She gasped, but withheld a cry of pain. He slapped the other side, and she jumped again. Her buttocks burned, and Amelia felt sure he’d left handprints.
The sound of his zipper opening was like a demon’s shriek. Then his rigid member was there, bludgeoning its merciless way into her tender flesh. It was as if she’d never had the encounters with Mr. Perkins. She was tight, and despite the betraying wetness and her best efforts to relax, Garroway’s thick penis hurt as he ground it into her. His hands gripped her hips, and he shoved her back, impaling her cruelly on himself.
He forced himself into her taut aperture, not waiting for her body to adjust to his. Amelia couldn’t help the little bird cries of pain as he stabbed into her womb over and over. His brutal thrusts threatened to knock the chair over. Occasionally he slapped her buttocks as he drove against her. She whimpered with each explosive crack against her flesh. In contrast, Garroway was quiet as he took his violent pleasure with her body.
How long he fucked her, she didn’t know. She was no longer wet. Her traitorous body had at last decided some abuses were not to be enjoyed. The police chief abraded her inner flesh with his tireless pounding until the burning pain became agony. Tears rained from Amelia’s eyes. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the back of the chair, fighting desperately to hang on and not scream. Still he thrust into her as if he’d never stop.
Amelia had never known such pain. She thought she might die, that Chief Garroway might actually fuck her to death. Surely the castration and scarification suffered by those convicted of sex crimes could not feel worse!
After an eternity of torture, Garroway’s rhythm finally faltered. He thrust even deeper, hitting something inside Amelia’s core that radiated shrieking pain throughout her belly. She couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped between her gritted teeth. Garroway’s breath caught, and he emitted a low groan as he spent himself into her raw, screaming sex.
He withdrew. Amelia waited for the pain to ease back; she couldn’t possibly move now. She shuddered in shock’s aftermath as her tormented womb pulsed waves of anguish. Her sobbing gasps filled the room.
At last she gingerly climbed off the chair. Her legs shook violently as she bent to pull her panties up. Only when she’d adjusted her clothing did she turn to face the silent chief of police.
He pointed a percussion blaster at her face.
Amelia’s knees gave way, and she fell into the chair behind her. Garroway’s aim never wavered; the barrel followed her descent with ease. She stared into the black hole before her, too terrified to remember how to pray. She couldn’t look anywhere else. She couldn’t even look into the chief’s face when he spoke.
“Every day at this time, you’re gonna come in here, close the door, and lock it behind you. We’ll have our fun, then we’ll act like nothing’s happened. I’m fixed, so don’t think you’ve got a license to whore around. You get pregnant and my name comes up, I’ll kill you. You talk about our little agreement, I’ll kill you. You quit your job here, I’ll come to your house, rape your bag of bones mama, kill her, then rape and kill you.” Garroway grabbed a handful of Amelia’s hair and yanked her head back so she stared into his face. “Have we got an understanding?”
She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. “Yes sir,” she croaked.
“Then get the hell out and go back to work.” He released her and holstered his blaster. He sat down behind his desk and shuffled through a stack of papers as if Amelia had already left.
Amelia struggled to her feet and left the office. She made her way to the women’s restroom to check her appearance. Her reflection in the cracked mirror shocked her. Except for tear tracks in her makeup, she looked normal. Somehow she’d expected terror and guilt to be stamped on her visage, a clear accusation for all to see. But no; once she’d re-applied powder and brushed her hair, she was the same Amelia who’d walked into the police station this morning, poured herself a cup of coffee, and plunged into the neverending round of forms, typing, and answering the com.
She’d even traded the fear for numbness now that the rape was over. For today her mind reminded her. Because Chief Garroway intended to repeat the assault tomorrow and every day she came to work.
Amelia had no choice but to obey him. If it was only her life at stake, she might have dared to run. But he’d said he’d kill Mama. Worse, he’d rape Mama.
Don’t think about it, her inner voice advised. I have to get through the rest of the day yet. Then I have to take care of Mama for the night. She’s not stupid. If I let down my guard for a second, she’ll know something has happened. So don’t think about it for now. It didn’t happen. It won’t happen tomorrow or ever again. Just go on that, and I’ll wait to think about it when I’m alone. Maybe.
Amelia collected herself and returned to work. She went home that night and tended to her mother, who in her haze of pain, noticed nothing amiss.
Amelia went to work the next day, drank her morning cup of coffee, and went about her usual tasks. At the noon break, she entered the chief’s office, closed the door, locked it, and submitted to his sadistic use of her body.
For over two years, Amelia managed to keep her mind a careful blank when it came to those hellish minutes Garroway possessed her. He liked to hurt her, making her shudder with the pain she dared not voice. He called her vile names. He threatened her with beatings from his baton and shockwhip or with blowing her face off with his blaster. Sometimes he’d take her mouth, one hand fisted painfully in her hair, one hand holding his service piece so the barrel rested between her eyes, his finger on the trigger. Once he fucked her with it as she lay naked and prone on his desk. He showed her the safety was switched off and it was fully armed before he did it. His face registered cold satisfaction when hers dissolved in tears. She bled when he jerked the cold metal out to shove his sex inside. He came very hard that day.
Most days Amelia bore the pain and fear and then cast the latest episode from her mind as she left his office. If she tried to remember those lost moments, which she almost never did, it was like recalling a long-ago nightmare. Most of the details were missing, leaving only hazy images and a sense of doom barely averted.
But there were a few times when Garroway took his pleasure with little abuse. He was always rough and never tender, but once in awhile he got on top of her and fucked her without threats or slaps. When that happened, Amelia would feel the horror of her sex warming, of her juices flowing, of pleasure filling her until her body quaked with unwanted orgasm. Those days were worse than when he did hurt her badly. She found such episodes were more difficult to erase from her memory. When her body defied her hatred and fear of Garroway, when it climaxed in spite of her revulsion, Amelia thought she might lose her sanity.
She painted on her days off in a feverish haze, frantic to exorcise demons she dared not consciously acknowledge. The images emerging from Amelia’s canvases were black and red, angry and ja
gged. The subject matter didn’t matter. Even flowered meadows were visions of anguished madness when painted by Amelia’s brush. She never bothered to explain the hectic chaos of her artwork to those who viewed it.
Rabid evangelicals who exalted in the delightful nightmare of God’s Final Judgment on sinners bought her work by the dozens. It was the greatest success she enjoyed on her home planet. With the added income, Amelia was able to keep her mother supplied with all the painkillers she needed until the cancer finally devoured the wasted creature.
* * * *
“Mama never found out, thank God,” Amelia told the surrounding Kalquorians.
“Bastard,” Breft muttered. His look was absolutely thunderous. Amelia had the idea that the only thing that kept him from erupting into a violent reaction was his concern for how she would take it. He turned away for a moment, his expression working as he tried to maintain control.
“Poor Amelia,” Flencik sighed. “It is indeed a wonder any remnant of sexual interest remains.”
“Oh, it’s alive and well,” Amelia said, reaching for him. Euphoric arousal had her entire body buzzing with raw lust. She needed them to fuck her.
Rajhir caught her wrist before she could get a handful of delicious Flencik cock. “You promised,” she pouted.
“In a moment. First we must make facts clear.”
“What facts?”
“First: you are not to blame for what those men did to you. You were given no choice. You did what was needed for survival.”
“If you say so.” Amelia tried to twist her arm out of his grip. She couldn’t budge.
Flencik glared at Breft. “She is too intoxicated to care.”
Breft bared his fangs at the other man for a brief moment. He recovered and whispered, “I’m sorry, my Imdiko. Now is not a good time to chastise me. I am too angry.”
Flencik swallowed at the still-feral look on the Nobek’s face. “Understood. I apologize.”
As usual, Rajhir took control of the situation. “The level of immediate intoxication is not an issue. She will remember our words and consider them properly later.” The Dramok turned back to Amelia and continued his lecture. “Fact two: there is nothing you have done or allowed done to make us despise you.”
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