Women of Steel 3: Frozen Daiquiri

by Camille Anthony

  Paula shook as she remembered lying on the examining table, waiting for what she thought was just another test. She’d been shocked and frightened when a Scarth male had matter-of-factly walked up between her legs and inserted his hard penis into her dry vagina and proceeded to pump in and out.

  He’d raped her, coldly but not brutally, treating her as if she were just another stop along the conveyor belt of his duties. The lab tech had observed the whole thing, his large pupil-less eyes gleaming with what had looked like excitement. She’d hated him for watching, for orchestrating her debasement.

  She hated remembering the next part. Shamed even now, Paula recalled how she’d suddenly begun responding to the male’s thrusts, how she’d begged and pleaded for him to fuck her harder. If she hadn’t been tied down, she’d have wrestled him over and ridden him to her satisfaction.

  To this day, she couldn’t say why she’d reacted that way. Nothing about the experience had been pleasurable… in fact, it had hurt tremendously. She remembered thinking the Scarth had put something sharp on the end of his cock to torment her. Something that had stabbed her each time he thrust inside her. The sharp stinging had accompanied every stroke, the pain spreading and growing as the male continued to pound her mercilessly for what seemed like hours.

  Despite the pain, by the time the male came, filling her with his sperm, she’d been nothing but a demoralized lump of orgasmic clay. The lab tech had carried her limp body back into the cage and deposited her on the narrow cot that was the room’s only furniture.

  Matrix unwinding, she was thankful she’d opted for the ten year infertility injection instead of the five. There was no way she could be impregnated until it wore off. Knowing that, she hid a smile every time they tested her, looking for evidence the male’s sperm had taken.

  Sitting in her cell, Paula suddenly laughed aloud. She couldn’t help it. She’d just figured out two important things. Since her injection was still working, she knew without a doubt they hadn’t been captive for more than five Earth years. And she knew what the Scarth wanted the women for.

  Truly, God had to be a woman! Only a female could think up such a sweet irony.

  The Scarth were looking for breeders! They must have been overjoyed when they captured so many females. Unfortunately for them, every female enlister to the Repulsion Force was required to accept the five or ten year infertility injection. Most chose the longer one so they wouldn’t have to worry about it too often.

  Paula covered her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking as she tried to restrain her amusement. She wondered what would happen when the Scarth scientists finally realized none of the women were fertile and this entire exercise was futile.

  Her amusement drained away when a new thought crossed her mind. She didn’t really know what had happened to the other women. She’d not seen any other humans in the lab.

  Oh, great Weaver, did they discard the failed experiments? Are they going to kill me, too, when they realize they can’t breed me?

  All of a sudden, laughter was the furthest thing from her mind. Paula moaned and began to rock back and forth. She wished General Daiquiri were here. Well, not here captive in the lab, but just with her, beside her. Daiq Harmon was the most capable warrior and leader she knew. She would know what to do, pull some miracle out of this situation. Even Thalassic, with her brilliant planning strategies, wasn’t as good an all-around soldier. Thalassic was an administrator. Daiq was a trench-digger. When you were in the trenches, it was the latter you wanted with you.

  Sighing, Paula rubbed her arms. She was perpetually cold. Why did they keep chilled air blowing on her? Was it some type of torture -- a cruel, inimical way to undermine her spirit? Weaken her loyalty? Had the others given in to the Scarth’s blandishments simply for a taste of warmth for the first time in years?

  Mason drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs. It was getting to where she didn’t know anymore what she would be willing to do to get warm… to feel really toasty and cozy and…

  A noise startled her out of her introspection. She looked up into the alien eyes of the lab tech. A large syringe in one hand, he opened the lock with the other.

  He must have finished examining the last lab result. Is he coming to terminate the experiment -- me?

  Paula Mason scrambled to her feet. No officer in the Planetary Repulsion Force faced death sitting on her butt.

  Chapter Six

  Culled from the Herd

  Every muscle straining, Daiquiri struggled in the grasp of the Scarth warriors, fighting them with all her strength. Eyes wide with what she wasn’t ashamed to name terror, she watched the needle come toward her, cringing away from the thick barrel as far as their restraining clasp would allow.

  “Let me go!” she snarled, bucking and twisting at the last minute, exhilaration flaring up as she watched the needle narrowly miss her flesh to plunge into the hand of the male holding her left arm.

  “Aargh!” the Scarth yelled, jerking back, his cry a mixture of pain and anger.

  A heavy blow landed against her cheek and her face exploded with fiery agony. Twisting her body into a contortionist’s pretzel, she arched her back and bit the hand that slapped her, sinking her teeth into the thick flesh. His skin tasted foul and she spat uncontrollably, desperate to clear his flavor from her mouth.

  The guard raised his hand a second time, only to have the second guard grab his arm and click something at him. With an ugly glare, the first male pushed Daiq’s face into the wall and held her there with the bulk of his weight.

  She’d been fighting them for over three Earth years, as near as she could tell. Why were they taking action now, and against only her? This wasn’t one of their scheduled collection times and before now, they’d never taken just one female.

  Cursing and kicking backward, she concentrated on not hyperventilating. “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?”

  Her only answer was the sharp prick of a needle entering her right arm, close to the shoulder. A moment later, fire erupted under her skin and blazed for an eternity until her entire arm went numb.

  Cold had become her constant companion, but the chill that iced her flesh now froze colder than the vacuum of space. Was there death in that needle? Had they decided she was more trouble than she was worth?

  As soon as that thought crossed her mind, Daiq dismissed it. The male had taken the needle and the only thing he was suffering from that she could see was a bad case of temper. Her heart eased, her pulse steadied and slowed. She breathed in and out with deep, measured breaths, regulating her terror.

  Just as Daiq and her two escorts reached the guarded outer entrance to the caverns, the belligerent guard’s hand dropped lifelessly from her arm. To her horror, the man fell to the floor in a boneless sprawl.

  Her fear came roaring back. All she could see in her mind was the needle going into his flesh instead of her own.

  Is he dead? Did his partner accidentally give him the death intended for me?

  If so, she didn’t have long before the dose she’d been given went into effect.

  Right on cue, she began to feel light-headed. She struggled to maintain her footing. No member of the Planetary Repulsion Force faced death on her knees.

  Oh, Matrix Unwinder, grant me bravery in death!

  Chapter Seven

  Reward and Punishment

  Lorrkar, War Leader of the Scarth armies, stepped through the wide portal into the Hall of Queens and came to attention. The great room, once housing hundreds of the species’ mothers, now contained only five. Sadly, the small number drove home the reality of their plight. Their race was dying alongside their adoptive planet.

  Five queens could not possibly birth the number of soldiers needed to win the war with Earth. The Hoomuns had many more available lives to call upon. He would continue to fight as ordered, but he’d warned them more than once, not to look for such an easy win the next time, despite that miraculous first victory.

  Lookin
g out the corner of his eye, Lorrkar saw that Senior had just finished birthing him a new brother. He sighed. The babe was nothing but another soldier to use as fodder for their war.

  Sometimes -- more frequently now than before -- he wished things were different. He wished their planet wasn’t dying and that the queens had never learned about Earth and its significance to the Scarth race. If wishes were suns, his world would have a new one…

  As he stood waiting to be acknowledged, the servers cleaned Senior and prepared her for her next mounting. Drodarr was the chosen one and he swaggered up to the dais, his long root swaying ponderously before him, heavy with arousal.

  With a sense of envious shock, Lorrkar saw Drodarr’s stinger was already well extended. The sharp, hollow-point projection at the end of his root was a full finger-length and dripped a dark gold honey. No wonder he was Senior’s favorite and had the other queens sighing for his services.

  Feeling sexually inadequate in the face of such accomplishment, Lorrkar silently acknowledged his birth father’s superiority. While his root was built along the same thick and long lines as Drodarr’s, he’d never seen his own stinger. Only once in all his matings had it emerged inside a female to sting her into ecstasy, but when he’d pulled out, his stinger had already retracted.

  Some males claimed their stinger’s failure to emerge was solely the female’s fault. He wasn’t so sure about that. Thinking back to the one time he’d stung his female, he remembered his own level of excitement had been extraordinarily high. He’d fought a sand war for the female. Upon winning, he’d taken her right there before all the soldiers in his group. With them looking on, he had impaled the female and begun to thrust wildly, reveling in his victory and his prize. The cheers of his men and the excited moans of the female had heightened his enjoyment until he’d felt his stinger pop out and embed itself in the wall of the neuter’s womb.

  Her wild screams had alerted his comrades and while they teased and egged him on, he had stung her over and over. By the time he came, she’d screamed herself hoarse and lay insensate beneath him, fucked into a faint.

  On the strength of the reputation gained from that incident, the queens had called him to their hall for the first time. But fucking a queen was nothing like mounting a null. Lorrkar hadn’t liked the experience, at all. Having four mothers -- one of them his own -- watching while he tried to impregnate a queen was enough to dry a normal male’s root right up. Though a virile male, the queens obviously felt he wasn’t up to being Queens’ Fodder, for they had never called for him again. He couldn’t bring himself to mind. As War Leader, he had his choice of the null females. Queens were for progeny and he didn’t want any child of his involved in this asinine war…

  “Son, come closer!”

  Lorrkar snapped to attention and marched to the front of Senior’s couch. “Senior Queen and mother, I greet you.”

  She bent her head, signaling he could touch antennae with her. He did so, drawing back to await instructions.

  Over his mother’s shoulder, he watched Drodarr slowly feeding his root into the queen’s sex. The older male smiled and gave him a jaunty wink before returning his attention back to the duty at hand.

  “War Leader, what of the war? How does it progress?”

  Lorrkar groaned inside and swallowed a sigh. He’d hoped they wouldn’t inquire there. He should have known better.

  “Senior, we are still amassing the second fleet. All the other hives have consented to add to our numbers. However, almost all of them also state there is little food to send along. I fear we shall go hungry ourselves if forced to feed these volunteers.”

  “There is food in storage and we will soon have the vast storehouse of Earth to fill our pantry.”

  “I will say again, I do not believe Earth will be an easy target or a guaranteed win. The Hoomuns are strong and determined. They are fighting for their homeland, which always gives the foe a decided advantage.”

  “You sound as if you admire these foes, these Hoomuns. You sound almost fond of them.”

  Lorrkar carefully kept his antennae high. Carapace fully retracted, he nodded curtly. “I have found them to be strong and determined fighters, worthy enemies.”

  Senior smiled. “Good! It has come to our attention that we have been remiss.”

  Lorrkar hid his growing trepidation. Whenever he heard those ceremonial words, trouble was not far behind. “I am happy in the service of our people, Senior.”

  “Such service should be rewarded. We have decided on a suitable gift.”

  Uh, oh! “I am honored that you think my service deserving of reward, but such is unnecessary. My service is motivated by love.”

  “Just so,” Senior noted. “And it is love that motivates our decision to gift you with a Hoomun sand-slave. She is yours to do with as you please and should bring you hours of pleasure and diversion from the efforts of the war.”

  “Senior, such a gift is…” Lorrkar was lost for words.

  “She is waiting for you in your quarters, in your sand.”

  Lorrkar’s carapace snapped out to cover his shoulders. “What?”

  “She’s been given the hormone injection that allows communication between us, and the serum that will make her metabolism and reproductive system compatible with yours. If the Maker blesses, you can become the father of a new hive.”

  The thought floored Lorrkar. “She’s not a null?”

  “She’s not been tested, but we suspect not.” Senior shifted and moaned, pushed back against Drodarr’s powerful thrusts. “We suspect she is a Hoomun Queen.”

  Queens are for progeny.

  Lorrkar’s knees went weak. His antennae curled in shock.

  “A queen?”

  “Think what she can do for your war effort!”

  Chapter Eight

  Out of the Cold, Into the Sands…

  She woke to Warmth!

  Blessed spine-loosening, toe-curling warmth!

  Daiq stretched her body out as far as her fetters would allow, reveling in the first non-fevered heat she’d felt since waking up on this benighted planet.

  She tested her bonds; looked around and found her wrists were tied to two pillars attached to a raised platform box. Her makeshift bed contained fine-grained sand, heated to a little more than normal body heat. Daiq relaxed in her restraints, closed her eyes and luxuriated in the soft sands. For the moment, she was in no hurry to go anywhere, except maybe back to sleep.

  A few minutes later, she overcame her momentary madness and resumed examining the restraints, searching for a way out of them. She rubbed her wrists raw before admitting she was well and truly captured, but she couldn’t bring herself to worry too much. Being tied down in warmth was a far cry from being murdered.

  Thalassic would never take her ease in a situation like this. Her mother would tell her it was necessary to guard against complacency. Daiq smirked. She was a grown woman and hadn’t lived with her mother for years and she hadn’t been this warm in ages.

  Snuggling down in the mounded sands, Daiq curled over onto her side. Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed her. Three years’ worth of tiredness descended upon her and she yawned so wide, her jaw popped. Giving in to the inevitable, she settled down to sleep, murmuring, “I believe I’ll just lie right here, wait and see what develops.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lab Three

  The Hoomun female stared down the barrel of the hypodermic, eyes wide and mouth open. He could almost hear her heart thudding frantically in her breast. Did she think he was going to harm her? Breen shook his head. He would never hurt her if he could help it.

  He shivered and glanced over at the register on the far wall of her cell. The cold air pouring out of the grate set his teeth on edge and shriveled his root. Once again, he wished the Hoomuns didn’t need such frigid air to survive. Much as he wanted to mount this beautiful black-skinned alien, he didn’t think he could maintain an erection in this chilling cold, and he feared damaging her too much if he sub
jected her to prolonged heat in his sand couch.

  He didn’t know why he’d filled the syringe with the chemicals that would allow them to talk with each other. It was forbidden. Yet, over and over, he’d debated with himself until he came to this point -- standing before her cell with the damning evidence in his hand.

  Desperation for her drove him to this disobedient act. It had been weeks since he’d had to stand by and watch another touch her as he wanted to. It had almost killed him to know a fertile male had stung her with his honey, to watch her writhe beneath another’s thrusts…

  He wanted so much with her, but there were times he looked at her and saw hatred in her fine brown eyes. Hatred directed toward him. She didn’t understand he’d had no choice in his actions. There could be no discovery between them, no exchange of caring and sand-play without communication. And so he had steeled himself to go against the orders of his hive.

  She laid her hand in his when he reached for it, her courage a bright, shining nimbus in the cold room. She shook only a little when the needle went in, trusting him in her distrust. When her knees went weak, he caught her, laid her on her cold thin mattress.

  And waited…

  As soon as she awoke and opened her eyes, he smiled at her, eager to begin his courtship. “My name is Breen. You are very beautiful.”

  Chapter Ten

  Hot Blood and Warm Sands

  An intimate touch brought her awake.

  Long years of military training had Daiquiri instantly jerking aside and kicking out. She felt the jar of the solid impact of both feet hitting a rock-hard belly all the way up to her knees.

  She completed the turn over onto her back, panting through her mouth to minimize the sound, enabling her to hear the gruff oomph the male made as he doubled over with pain.