Assassin Mine

by Cynthia Sax

  “Two,” she cried out, counting for him, her mouth open, her eyes closed. “Harder! Deeper!”

  “Three.” Darius thrust into her pussy with all of his strength, burying his cock inside her. “Release,” he roared. She clenched down on his shaft with her pussy muscles and he broke, coming hard, with a violence that surprised him, an intensity verging on pain. Sabria bucked, rounding her spine, trying to dislodge him, and he clung to her, riding her, subduing her, claiming her.

  “My breeder.” He bit her shoulder, putting his mark upon her, a primitive act no Balazoid would indulge in. She trembled, the tremors in her pussy wringing him dry, as he rested, waiting for his heartbeat to slow, for the emotions inside him to dissipate, for his desperate need for Sabria to leave him.

  Instead, his unnatural yearnings for her increased, the urge to touch Sabria’s beautiful face, to kiss her full lips, to murmur words no Balazoid should ever utter, ravishing his control.

  Fuck. Darius glanced up at the white ceiling, searching his mind for answers, for a solution that would return him to the life he knew, a life acceptable to his culture.

  He reluctantly stepped away from Sabria, experiencing a tinge of regret as his cock slipped out of her warmth, his shaft remaining semi-hard. “Finding release your way didn’t fix me,” he grimly concluded, his affliction more serious than he’d first thought.

  “Oh.” Sabria turned and met his gaze. They stared at each other, Darius willing her to understand, to not make him say the words.

  “You’re my breeder,” he reminded her. I warned her what that meant.

  “I am your breeder,” Sabria confirmed. She gazed at the metal chair and back at him. Fear flickered in her unguarded face. “Then we’ll try your way, the Balazoid way.” She gave him a brave smile, no joy in her brown eyes. “Tell me what to do.”

  “You don’t do anything.” Darius winced, his irrational guilt harshening the words. She’s a breeder, a replaceable breeder. “Sit in the chair, female, and don’t speak. Release is found in silence.”

  “You’re such a woman-hating asshole,” Sabria muttered as she climbed onto the raised chair and Darius grinned, finding reassurance in her cursing. She has a strong will. She’ll survive this.

  Sabria flinched as she sat down on the metal slab, the machine dwarfing her body. She placed her hands on the armrests and curled her fingers into fists, looking appallingly small and delicate and helpless.

  Darius grabbed her tiny ankles and set her feet on the stirrups, spreading her wide, her body open to him. She was black hair, golden skin and pink pussy, her folds wet and creamy with his previous release, and his cock sprang to full hardness, need building within him.

  “Restrain breeder,” he ordered.

  Sabria jumped as the bands encircled her ankles, wrists, and breasts. “Darius?” She struggled against the restraints, twisting her body as she tried to free herself. “These are too tight. I can’t breathe.”

  “If they were too tight, you wouldn’t be able to talk,” Darius pointed out dryly. She narrowed her eyes at him, scrunching up her nose adorably. “Relax and don’t fight this. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “Relax? You’re not the one in this torture chair, you sadistic shit eater.” Metallic prongs pulled her pussy lips open, exposing her entrance, and a sheet of cleansing waves cascaded down her body, removing the blood from her skin. “Let me go, you—”

  A muzzle fitted over her face. Sabria thrashed her head, her brown eyes sparking fire, no sound coming from her moving mouth.

  “Accept your destiny,” Darius advised. This is natural. He pushed away the guilt. This is right. He stroked his cock, concentrating on his own arousal, blocking the anger shaking Sabria’s restrained body.

  Even with her confined and muzzled, with half of Sabria’s body concealed by the machine, Darius wanted her, his desire escalating with each pump of his hand. He breathed in her musky scent and a dab of pre-cum formed on his tip.

  “Three thrusts are all I need.” Darius positioned himself between her spread legs, setting his palms on the chair’s hand rests. Why am I talking to her? She’s a breeder, a replaceable breeder. He looked over Sabria’s right shoulder at the blank wall and drove into her.

  “One.” Darius groaned, digging his fingertips into the metal, her pussy juices coating his shaft, oozing over his balls. He withdrew slowly, staring at the wall, ignoring the female servicing him, centering his thoughts as all Balazoids were taught to do.

  “Two.” He drove deeper, using Sabria as he would use his simulator breeder, brutally, savagely. This will fix me. He pulled back, sliding his cock head along her narrow pussy walls. She squeezed him as if to reassure him, a Balazoid assassin.

  “Three.” Darius rammed into her pussy as hard as he could and he swallowed his roar of satisfaction, finding release within Sabria as a Balazoid should, coldly, methodically, without the joy or bliss of their earlier sessions.

  “Fuck.” I miss that bliss. Darius staggered backward, fastening his pants. “I’m still broken.” He met Sabria’s gaze and sucked in his breath, the betrayal in her eyes slicing through him, the pain sharp.

  “I have to do this. For a Dreck to survive, he must become the perfect Balazoid.” Darius swept his hands over his cursed hair. “Any breaking of the rules, any sign of weakness, gives the council an excuse to dispose of us. I will not be disposed of, Sabria. Do you understand?”

  She hesitated for a moment before nodding, lines of doubt etched between her dark eyebrows, the unnerving silence accentuating his loneliness.

  I am alone. I’ll always be alone. Even if I become the perfect Balazoid, I’ll remain a Dreck, unworthy of a breeder. Darius scowled, no longer content with a long solitary life, the best future a Dreck could hope for.

  “Cleanse breeder,” he barked. Sabria jerked as a nozzle entered her pussy, sucking his cum and her juices before it coated her with lubricant, preparing her for the next session.

  “We’ll try again later.” Needing time and space to rethink his plans, Darius pivoted on his heels and exited the room, leaving Sabria strapped to the machine.

  Chapter Four

  The doors slid open and Sabria looked up, relieved to see someone, anyone, even him. Darius stood before her, his muscled form clad in tight black leather, his face grim and foreboding. He eyed her as though considering what action to take next.

  “Release me from this damn chair, Darius,” Sabria yelled, tired of staring at a blank wall, waiting for him to come to his senses, her resolution to focus on him and his problem evaporating seven unsatisfying fucks ago.

  Darius didn’t respond, Sabria’s words silenced by the muzzle she wore. He perused her slowly, her naked body open and on display. His gaze fixed on her pussy, his eyes flared with lust, and Sabria groaned, knowing her fate.

  “I’ll be quick,” Darius mumbled, dropping his gaze. He unfastened his pants, revealing pale skin and his thick, hard cock.

  “I don’t want quick,” she shrieked, frustrated by her inability to communicate. “I want release too, you selfish asshole.”

  “Don’t make that face, female. I warned you how it would be.” Darius positioned his cock at her entrance, her pussy lips pried apart by the machine’s prongs. “On a larger ship, you’d be expected to service hundreds of males every day. I saved you from that fate.” He placed his palms on the breeding chair.

  Sabria met his gaze and saw guilt in his crimson eyes. “Why are you doing this, Darius?” she asked, knowing he couldn’t hear her, yet needing to ask the question.

  “Forgive me, Sabria,” he whispered, his deep voice barely audible.

  He thrust into her, filling her completely, their only connection being his cock in her pussy. “One.” There was no passion in the word.

  As Darius withdrew slowly, she squeezed him with her pussy muscles, fighting to keep him inside her. His hands dropped and his fingers entwined with hers, his small capitulation a major victory for Sabria.

  He misses touching
me. She smiled at Darius. He’ll release me soon.

  “Two.” Darius drove forward, rocking the breeding machine, and Sabria gasped, desire building low in her body. She strained against her restraints, yearning to wrap her legs around him, to hold him tight to her.

  “This is the Balazoid way.” He shuddered as he pulled out. “I’m a Balazoid.”

  “No, you’re Darius.” She squirmed, the bands of metal digging into her chest. “You’re not like all of those other woman-hating assholes. You’re better than this.”

  “Three,” he roared, thrusting forward, ramming his cock deep inside her. Hot cum gushed into her pussy and she screamed with sexual frustration, clutching his hands, her grip punishing.

  Darius vibrated against her, lingering moments longer than he had during his previous releases. “Thank you.” He looked away from her as he stepped back. “Cleanse breeder.”

  “Shit, no!” She jerked as the cold nozzle snaked up her pussy, the suction torturous. “Let me go, Darius.” She slammed her head back on the chair, shaking the machine.

  Darius calmly fastened his pants, a frown on his face. “I remain broken. We’ll try again.” He turned.

  “I get to decide if we try again, not you,” Sabria mumbled against the muzzle, glaring at Darius’ retreating back. “I’m the one stuck in this torture machine.” The doors slid closed behind him. “With a cold nozzle rammed up my pussy, sucking me dry, and my breasts flattened painfully against my body.

  “And I’ve decided we won’t try again.” Sabria folded her hands and slipped her wrists out of the restraints. “I’m done with waiting for you to come to your senses. I’m taking care of my own damn self.” She yanked the muzzle off her face. Red lights flashed. “Yes, warning, warning. We wouldn’t want the breeder to talk, you sadistic monsters.”

  She plucked at the bands around her aching breasts. They didn’t move, secured solidly to her body.

  “No.” Her anger boiled over. Sabria wrenched a bar from the frame. “Let. Me. Go.” She beat the machine, metal ringing against metal. Pieces rained down onto the tiled floor, the destruction satisfying.

  “Fuck you, machine.” Sabria pummeled the leg restraints and they collapsed, freeing her feet. She flexed her ankles, her skin tingling with the increase in blood flow.

  “Cleanse this.” She ripped the prongs from her pussy and pulled the nozzle, detaching the complex cleaning mechanism. Part of her, the engineering part, admired the efficient design. A bigger part of her, the woman, hated the machine with a fiery passion.

  “Yes.” Sabria groaned as she closed her thighs, her muscles sore from maintaining the extreme position. “I’m a woman, a real woman, not a breeder and not some freakishly flexible sex worker.” She kicked a support pillar and the machine tilted to the right, shifting her weight.

  “Shit.” She winced, her torso pressed against the bands, the metal cutting into her sensitive skin, the pain acute. Her arms ached, her body exhausted from days spent strapped to the machine.

  “No.” She summoned up the last dredges of energy and struck the chair blindly, frantic to free herself before the entire structure collapsed, flattening her. “No. No. No.” She walloped the metal.

  She screamed as the seat fell back, taking her with it. The machine beeped, the red lights flashing faster and faster, the combination of noise and light maddening.

  “You can’t be designed for this action.” Sabria lifted her legs and folded her body, her feet by her head. “You bastard machine.” She rocked back and forth, sharp shards of agony scratching along her torso.

  A crack rang in the otherwise silent room, followed by another and another. The bands fell from her body. Sabria rolled away from the machine. A heavy crossbar slammed down on the headrest, denting the metal.

  “Shit.” She panted, her chest heaving, burning, her throbbing breasts striped with blood.

  “What have you done, female?” Darius bellowed. He stood in the doorway, filling the space, his muscled, fully clothed form sexy and fit and perfect. “You will fix this.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, emotionally and physically drained, unable to fight him. “Darius.” The room spun around her, the white walls, silver chair, and his black body armor streaming together.

  “Sabria.” His dark form blurred, and in an instant, he was beside her, kneeling, his crimson eyes warm with an emotion resembling concern.

  “You’re hurt.” He cradled her head in his large hands, his embrace gentle and his voice raw.

  “Now we’re both damaged.” Sabria forced a smile, her cheeks aching with the effort. “We’re the same, Darius.” She skimmed her fingertips over his pale cheek, his skin surprisingly warm.

  “We’re not the same.” He swung her into his arms, lifting her easily. “I would never foolishly hurt myself this way.” Darius walked with her, his gait smooth and silent.

  “You weren’t trapped in that damn machine.” Sabria rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the reassuringly strong beat of his heart. “You don’t need to restrain me. I’ll stay still.”

  Darius’ lips flattened and she rushed to persuade him. “I will and I’ll help you become the perfect Balazoid. You can call me female and be a woman-hating asshole and I won’t say a word. I’ll do anything you want as long as you don’t put me in that chair again.”

  Darius remained silent, his face dark. He’s angry. Sabria sighed, reluctant to apologize for breaking his torturous chair. I’m not sorry. I’ll break that damn thing beyond capability of repair if he restrains me again.

  Not that he cares what I think…or feel. She blinked back tears and stared up at the ceiling as Darius maneuvered through the brightly lit corridors. Ceiling-mounted weapons tracked their movements and she focused on the automated defenses, her knowledge of machines far greater than her knowledge of angry Balazoid assassins.

  “Clever.” She pointed to one. “Did you design those?”

  “Yes.” Darius scowled. “The floor-cleaner bots are armed also. You would have been dead within three strides of that room.”

  “Oh.” She gazed at him with new respect. “Did you design the breeding chair?”

  “No.” Doors slid open and they entered a large chamber. “It came with the ship. Drecks don’t need breeding machines because we spend our lives alone.” Darius set her down on a massive bed.

  “Hmmm…” Sabria stretched out, the black covers soft against her naked skin. His sleeping chambers were as plainly decorated as the breeding chair room, the walls a stark black, the space dominated by the bed. “This feels good, Darius. Lie down beside me.” She patted the fabric.

  “Not now.” He opened a wall compartment and extracted a small container. “Your wounds require tending, female.” He opened the container and dipped his fingers into the clear gel.

  Female. She closed her eyes, bracing for the pain. For one sweet moment, I was Sabria. “Is that how Captain Grok’s breeders died? Trying to escape that damn chair?”

  “No.” Darius leaned over her, his body heat comforting. She flinched as he touched the wound above her right breast. “Before today, I’d never heard of a breeder trying to escape the chair.” He coated her skin, the salve immediately numbing the pain. “You’re the first.”

  “That doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened before.” She grinned, a burst of euphoria rushing over her as the salve soaked into her skin. “Most people have never heard of a prisoner escaping Gehenna 5, yet my brother did exactly that.” Darius’ fingers skimmed her nipples and she shivered with bliss. “Darius?” Her limbs twitched with unrestrained energy.

  “Yes?” He frowned, his unhappiness pulling at her heartstrings.

  “You don’t have to be alone, you know.” She touched his jutted chin. “When I searched through the Drecks in the Balazoid system, looking for you, I noticed many of Drecks assigned to deep-space exploration were reported dead.”

  “Deep-space exploration is dangerous.” His breath wafted on her skin as he slathered the salve
over her breasts, rubbing the gel into her skin.

  “Perhaps.” Sabria played with his fine white hair, petting the short tendrils and tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “Or perhaps they found a place where they’re accepted, where Drecks are equals and there are no wars or killing.” She smiled dreamily. “They have families, breeders they love and protect and offspring of their own, and they’re happy, so happy the Balazoids don’t want any other Drecks to know about them.”

  “You talk too much, female,” Darius growled. His gaze lifted and met hers, his eyes gleaming, his lips a tongue-length away from her nipple.

  “I’m sorry.” Sabria stilled, holding her breath in anticipation as he caressed her numbed curves, cupping and squeezing her breasts, his hands ivory against her naturally golden skin. “It’s the salve. I feel so jittery, high-strung, as though—”

  He surged up her body, his leather-covered chest sliding against her breasts, and he covered her moving lips with his, silencing her semi-incoherent sharing.

  I missed this, the kissing, the touching. Sabria opened to him and Darius pushed into her, wielding his tongue as though it was a weapon, forcing her head back, his mouth tasting of herbs and unstoppable desire.

  Sabria rubbed his arms, the leather smooth, his biceps rippling under her fingertips, his body muscle and strength. She explored the breadth of his shoulders, the flat of his back, the dip along his spine, and he purred against her lips, a bone-deep expression of animalistic contentment.

  She raised her knees, cradling his narrow hips between her naked thighs, pressing her mons against him, rubbing, grinding, yearning to feel the slide of his skin over hers.

  “Touch me, Sabria.” He dragged his lips over her jaw, nibbling on her. “As only you can. Hold me.” He shuddered, his hard form vibrating against her curves. “Make me believe. Make me feel.”

  Sabria plucked at the leather, desperate to feel all of him, his jacket fitting snugly, a second skin over his torso. “Remove your clothes, Darius. Let me touch you.”