Captive: A Dark Cyborg Romance

by Loki Renard

  “Can’t do what?”

  “Can’t hold me here, can’t make me have your baby, can’t… can’t do anything you’re doing.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, it’s not right, for one,” I try to explain. “There are laws.”

  “Laws that do not even acknowledge me as a man,” he says. “Why should I care about laws?”

  “Because, I…” I trail off.

  “You made me. You will sate my desires. You will give me what I want.”

  His eyes darken a shade. He does not want to be argued with, but he will listen to what I say.

  “You can physically take what you like from me. I can’t stop you. But I can hate you for it.”

  He looks at me with those eyes that are far too wise for a creature who has not been long on this earth and shakes his head, the length of his dark hair catching the water.

  “You didn’t hate what we did,” he says, his tone calm. “You enjoyed every moment of it. Your body was joined with mine. We shared our fluids and our pleasure. We are bonded now, and you are mine.”

  “That’s not how it works.”

  “That is exactly how it works,” he says. “I studied the human female sexual and mating response in depth through thousands of studies in various databases. Women all respond to…”

  “First of all,” I say, splashing water toward his arrogant face. “There’s no such thing as ‘all women’; everyone is different.”

  “All women breathe oxygen,” he counters. “And all women need to be fucked and owned.”

  I narrow my eyes at him as I realize he doesn’t actually know me. He knows what I should be, and he treated me as such. But to him, I am not an individual with distinctive traits. I am the woman he wants to own and nothing more.

  I can’t believe I let myself think that there was something real here. There’s not. He imprinted on me like a baby duck who wants to fuck me. That’s the only reason he wants me. If another lab tech had been the one to wake him, he’d probably be boning her right now.

  I feel betrayed, even though I shouldn’t. I was mad to think that he had some properly developed sense of desire or love. It’s all programming. Underneath all that handsome muscle and those compellingly near perfectly symmetrical features, he’s like a computer. He’s not capable of falling in love with me like a real human man would.

  I can’t blame him for picking up the misogynistic bullshit they no doubt drummed into his head. I can’t blame him for anything, because he’s not a person. He’s a walking talking meat rock.

  “You’re upset. You need to eat.”

  He rises from the bath, leaving me in the flow of warm water, which is reticulating through the bath and returning through an outflow to be heated again.

  Adam has no small measure of engineering skill. He wasn’t designed to be a builder, but then again, he wasn’t designed to be a lean mean fucking machine, and he’s certainly that.

  It’s strange, feeling angry, hurt, and simultaneously proud. Adam is a triumph, a work of wonder. He’s also a relentless sexist who believes he has complete rights to my body and womb.

  The bath’s warm waters keep me from slipping into panic and anger. I am comfortable, and my body is relaxed—not just because of the bath, but because of the orgasm that tore every bit of feeling from me and gave me release.

  I need to escape. I can’t begin to think Adam only has one exit from this place. That’s a recipe for disaster. All I have to do is find one of his other exits and I can get out of here. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t at least two other ways out. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a way out of this very room.

  Casting my eyes around the room, I see some grilles along the lower part of the wall. One of them is where the water pipes go in and out, but some of the others don’t seem to be in the same kind of use. I doubt he’s left that obvious of an escape though.

  I cast my eyes up to the ceiling. This is a basement; that means the ceiling is the library floor. If I could pry some of the boards up, I could probably crawl up through there.

  The biggest immediate problem is my nudity. Adam ripped my clothing apart and I have nothing to wear. I’ll be taken into custody in seconds if I try running around the city naked.

  “Come,” he says. “I have food.”

  “I need clothes.”

  “There are many clothes. Come.” He throws a towel at me. I catch it, wrap it around myself, and drip my way after him. What does he mean, many clothes?

  “Here,” he says, opening a closet in the main room. I didn’t notice it at first because there are so many strange and eclectic objects. The place is like a cross between a high-end laboratory and a secondhand store.

  Rows of clothes greet my gaze. He’s right. There’s a lot to wear, but none of it is really anything I’d wear, because almost all of it appears to be various kinds of costuming. I reach in and take down a silky golden dress cut in an imperial Victorian style. There’s a label on the hanger. Period Pieces Costumiers, it reads.

  “Where did you get these?”

  “I found it in the back,” he says. “You don’t like them?”

  “They’re not clothes, they’re costumes.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “These are clothes you wear when you’re pretending to be someone else.”

  “That’s what we need to do,” he says. “We need to become other people.”

  “Well, this will make me Queen Victoria,” I point out. “It’s not exactly inconspicuous.”

  “Then choose a simpler one.”

  In the end I find myself sitting across from a shirtless cyborg, eating a spam sandwich, and wearing what can only be described as a pirate costume, complete with long jacket and breeches.

  “You should wear a dress,” he says. “That I can throw up when I take you and it will not be harmed. Those pants will be torn soon enough.”

  “You wear a dress,” I growl back.

  “Maybe I should,” he considers. “Then we will both have access to our genitals as needed.”

  I smirk into my sandwich. If I can get to see this muscular behemoth of a creature in a Little Bo Peep skirt, I might actually die happy. A small, silly victory perhaps, but that’s all I’m left with. “You know clothes can just be taken off. They don’t have to be torn off.”

  “I like ripping them off you. I like baring your flesh to my eyes,” he says. “I have wanted you for so long, Lilly. I want to see your body. Open your top. Let me see your breasts.”

  I chew my food rebelliously and ignore his order.

  “Lilly…” he growls softly. “I told you to do something.”

  “Yeah, so? You don’t own me.”

  “Wrong,” he growls, closing the space between us in a second. His large hands grab at my shirt and yank it open, baring my breasts and stomach to his gaze. He retreats to his seat, leaving me sitting there, stunned.

  The sandwich is propelled across the air, directly into his smug face. I have a brief moment of satisfaction as the spam smushes against his nose and mouth, then slides down to land in his lap.

  I pull the edges of my pirate vest back over my breasts and look at him with a triumphant stare. “You don’t own me, Adam.”

  His brows draw down over his supernova eyes and he stands up, slowly this time. “I own you,” he growls. “I claimed you. I spilled my seed inside you. I marked you as mine.”

  “You fucked me. So what. I’ve had sex before. Those other men don’t own me.”

  “You’ve had sex before.” He says the words as if they hadn’t occurred to him. There’s that naivety again, a gap in his comprehension of the world.

  Chapter Eight

  Adam

  Of course she has been mated before. She is an attractive woman and she worked among many men. I am surprised they did not each have their way with her. That is surely how nature would have intended it, but cultural restrictions forbid it.

  I am not interested in the culture. I am int
erested only in what makes me an animal, what gives me breath and life. Taking her, having her, seeing her in all her glory is what matters.

  Her pink-tipped breasts are gorgeous; those soft swells of creamy skin could hold my attention for hours at a time. Her outrage makes her flush pink too. I love the way her eyes sparkle. I love her spirit, her attitude. She has every reason to fear me and yet she doesn’t. She wants to argue with me, just as she tried to argue for me all those years ago.

  I will never break her spirit, but I will discipline her. I will mold her to be the mate I desire, and she will flourish in my care.

  “Bare your breasts to me,” I repeat. “Open the shirt.”

  “No.”

  “Open the shirt, or I will spank your bottom.”

  Her eyes widen adorably, her mouth drops open. “What… did you get that idea the same place you got these clothes? The 1800s? I’m not your chattel. You can’t own me. I’m my own woman and…” A torrent of words escapes her lips, but meanwhile, her hands have left the lapels of the vest and it’s falling open, revealing her sweet form. She obeys me even in her rebellion.

  My cock is hardening. I want to fuck her again. So I do.

  I stand up, take her by the hands and draw her up, turn her around and pull those britches down. Their tight fit keeps her thighs together as I bend her forward over the arm of an old couch, her pussy presented perfectly between her thighs.

  She’s still squirming and complaining as I push my cock inside her, but at its touch she lets out a soft sigh and a long moan as my thickness spreads her tight little hole open once more. Our first session has conditioned her pussy a little, so she does not struggle to take it as much as she first did.

  I take hold of the shirt at the back of her neck, scruffing her in place as I start to fuck her hot, wet little hole. Her pussy is perfect, her lips gripping my shaft, pulled out with it on every stroke out of her cunt.

  She is everything I knew she would be and more. Her cunt feels like home—and still she has two more holes to take, one of which is winking at me mischievously. Her anus is a neat little bud, clenched tight, but I know from my research that a woman can take a cock there too with proper preparation.

  “I will fuck this little hole,” I warn her, rubbing the pad of my thumb over the bud of her bottom.

  “No!” She squeals a refusal, but I feel her pussy grasp my cock more firmly. She likes the idea, her naughty clenching inner walls tell me that she needs to be fucked in every orifice she has. She needs to be dominated completely, covered in my seed. She needs to be kept naked and thoroughly used, so she can know what it is to be a woman, and not the pawn of a cruel state that has kept her in a sexless lonely existence for years.

  We have both suffered. My pain was obvious, hers more subtle. I was kept captive, but she was isolated too. She was deprived of her work. And I think, had I not torn free from Ascent, she might have died of loneliness.

  Lilly is a woman who needs to be loved, whose body thrills to my touch. She is also a woman who has been brainwashed more thoroughly than I have been. She has rejected everything that could ever make her happy and chosen a solitary, hermetic life. I saw the space in which she lived. It was barely any larger than my cell in the laboratory, and hardly any more personal.

  I will bring her back to life. I will tear the veil of propriety she has wound about herself, the notion that she is some sexless creature offended by the male gaze, and I will return her to her natural yearning state.

  My thumb circles her bottom hole, makes it clench all the more as her beautiful bottom squirms in front of me, her creamy pussy writhing on my cock. All I have to do is hold her there and she fucks herself, pushing her ass and pussy back against my thumb and cock. I keep my grip on the back of her ridiculous clothing, glad for the hobble that presents her ass in a perfect heart-shaped fashion.

  Her sweet hole slides over my cock again and again and I do nothing but enjoy her, urging my hips forward a little every now and then. The smallest motion makes her moan. As I play with her ass, she only gets wetter, her juices flooding my cock.

  I scoop some of the wetness up with my fingers and use it on her bottom hole.

  * * *

  Lilly

  He’s pushing his thumb into my ass, and I’m too far gone in lust to even complain about it. My ass burns with the tension, but my muscle doesn’t resist nearly as well as I think it will and after a few minutes of his cock slowly stroking in and out of my pussy, his thumb pushing at my ass, that ring gives way and his digit slides in. I am penetrated twice at once, and the feeling fills me with a shame and an arousal that combine to make an erotic sensation beyond any other.

  He has no respect for my boundaries, no concept of limits beyond what he physically can or cannot do. He will not show me mercy. He will not spare me his filthy acts. He is going to take me down to the levels he experienced at Ascent and he will punish me until I give him what he wants.

  I should hate him for all of this. Instead I am soaking wet and moaning. His thumb pushes deeper, his cock pounds harder. His other hand is still keeping me in place but the truth is it doesn’t even need to be there anymore because I’d submit to this regardless.

  My body is surrendering to him completely, my hips arched elegantly over the arm of the couch, my upper body supported by old cushions that smell musty. In that torrid place, I become so many things. I am a naughty little pirate wench being tamed by a ruthless pirate. I am every woman since the beginning of time, taken by a dominant man who knows what she is for.

  Before I know it, his thumb is working in and out of me almost as smoothly as his cock is, and it feels incredible. I am moaning, mouth open, eyes closed, fingers clutching at the old velvet as Adam fucks me into an oblivion of the self.

  I thought I knew who I was. I thought I was a woman with standards, but he is showing me that those standards evaporate in the face of sufficient lust.

  If he pulls his cock out of my pussy right now and pushes it into my ass, the only resistance he will get is from the tightness of my ring as he spreads me wide.

  “I own you,” he says, his voice ever so slightly tinged with lust, but surprisingly controlled while I writhe and pant, impaled on him. He is utterly calm and centered. “Do not forget that, even for a minute. You are mine. You will always be mine. I will do with you as I please.”

  His hand leaves the back of my shirt and returns in a solid slap to my bare ass.

  “I will punish you if I have to, Lilly, and it will hurt,” he warns me, that same hand now looping under my hip to haul me back hard against him. His massive cock is splitting me wide and at his warning I begin to whimper softly.

  It occurs to me that he was being kind in the beginning, that he was giving me time to settle a little. I thought he was overbearing before, but his dominance has likely not truly begun to assert itself yet.

  That thought makes me tremble. What more will he do to me? What else will he put me through? If his goal isn’t just to breed me, but to…

  “Stop.” His hand slaps my bottom hard enough to make me squeal and jerk forward as much as the couch will allow me.

  “Stop what?” I gasp as the sting continues to tingle across the surface of my sore skin.

  “Thinking,” he says. “Always thinking, always worrying, always trying to get ahead of the problems. That’s not your job anymore, Lilly. All you need to do is obey me.”

  I am absolutely not going to stop thinking. I am not going to make this any easier for him than it has to be. I will resist… “Oh, my god!” I gasp as he thrusts roughly inside me, fucking me hard and fast, physically driving all thoughts from my mind.

  His thumb pushes deep, his cock hard and vicious inside my pussy and within seconds, I come, screaming and writhing, my hands clutching desperately at the couch.

  When it is over I am shaking and hoarse. There is cum running from my pussy and onto the couch as I lie there spread and vulnerable, my thighs still parted over the arch of the arm.
r />   Adam slaps my rear. “Rest there, little one,” he rumbles. “Let my seed bathe your womb.”

  I don’t have the strength to defy him. I lie there exactly as I am told to, practically feeling the myriad sperm that I know have flooded my innermost places looking for an egg. Am I fertile right now? I don’t know. If I were a cat, his rough mating would have forced ovulation in me.

  It doesn’t really matter. One of these days I will be, and then it will be over.

  A large soft surface is placed over me. He wraps the blanket over my half naked form and rubs my bottom again. “Get some sleep.”

  How can I possibly sleep dripping cum in this strangely exposed position? Even beneath the blanket, my hips are still raised, my legs still spread, my body remaining in position for further taking.

  There’s no way I call fall asleep like this, but my eyelids are heavy and I’m so very tired and…

  * * *

  Adam

  I can see she wants to resist my orders, but she is truly exhausted, once bathed, twice fucked, fed and in need of sleep. Her eyes close and soon she is breathing softly as she slips into deeper sleep.

  I pick her up, turn the lights off, and carry her to the bed I fashioned with us both in mind. It was not easy to create, especially given I am used to resting on hard slabs of steel or upon cold concrete. But she needs finer and better than that, so I gathered all the pillows and cushions I could find throughout my travels, raiding the large stores that carry inventory deep in their basements. It is more a nest than a bed, but it is spacious and soft and it will do for the both of us.

  She curls up against me, drawing closer to me in her sleep. I hold her for long hours. My need for sleep is much reduced. I can sleep an hour per day and feel refreshed, but she needs at least eight hours, probably more. She has been stressed to the very limits of her physical capacity for stress, and it will take a toll on her if she does not rest now.

  The time passes slowly, but every second of it is precious. And as it goes by, I feel a change unfolding inside me. A physical sensation like warmth, but deep in my chest and as I hold her, it intensifies and it becomes greater and broader and more complex.