Of Flesh and Skin - A Darker Erotic Collection

by R. T. Riley

  “Now be a good girl and shut the fuck up with the crying.”

  The sound of a zip, then he was in her. Renewed pain shot through her system as he rammed against her over and over. Kiera’s mouth filled with vomit and she turned her head, coughing it out. “Please,” she whimpered, “please stop.” A hand landed on her face, blocking her mouth and nose.

  “I told you to shut the fuck up,” he said, pressing down hard. She tried to breath but there was nothing. He thrust himself harder inside her, his other hand crushing her left breast. She bucked under him but it did no good. Stars appeared behind the blindfold, exploding into blinding white and the pain subsided.

  Her chest felt heavy as she fought for breath, full of pins and needles. Even his teeth as they ripped off her right nipple seemed dull as the stars blinked out one by one.

  The End

  The God Machine

  They took our men before I was born. I’ve only seen a man in the pictures hidden away beneath my mother’s bed.

  Today is the day I go to the God Machine. Today is the day I am offered up like all my Sisters before me. Today is the day I fulfill my purpose.

  Like men, I’ve never seen the God Machine, but I know it as intimately as I know my own body. As soon as we are old enough to grasp its meaning, we are told of the God Machine by the Teachers. We are taught it is the way of our world. A journey, our mothers, and their mothers before them, have all taken. The stories are like tattoos on my skin, they’re embedded deep within my being.

  I’ve been prepared for the day I would go to the God Machine. I have been taught what I must do, how I must act, and what will happen when I am presented to the God Machine.

  It is the way things are, my mother has always told me. I trust my mother, but I can’t help but see the pall that comes over her when she talks of the God Machine. There is fear there, lurking beneath her words, try as she might to wrestle it and keep it from rearing its head.

  Now, she is washing my body, the sponge rough against my skin. She talks of my purpose, of what I must do.

  She talks as if she will never see me again.

  The God Machine scares me. It has always scared me. The words the Teachers, and my mother use are carefully chosen, but I can hear the undercurrents of doubt. I do not want to be presented, but I hold my tongue. I do not wish to upset my mother. She says it is an honor to be chosen. She says it is what must be.

  I asked her why once, and she told of the time when man was among us; of the time when our planet was ripe with men. How the Spheremancers came from the stars and took every man on our planet. In the blink of an eye, they were taken, never to be seen again. How over time, the old died away, and the young grew old. How the Spheremancers culled our race to just thousands from the billions who’d once inhabited our planet.

  She does not speak much of the times before, try as I might to urge her to. I was born after the Spheremancers came. I know nothing of the time before, so I have no reason to miss it, but, still, I do. There are other pictures beneath her bed. Pictures she has never shown me, but I’ve seen them. They call to me, like a soft song on the breeze. Faint and gentle.

  When the women felt all hope was lost, and we were at the end of our humanity, the Spheremancers began to allow a select few to go forth to the God Machine. You see, my mother said, the God Machine is what keeps us in existence. Those that go to the God Machine return ripe with child. This is what allows us to carry on. Without the God Machine, our race would die out and we would be no more.

  I asked her once why, if the God Machine did such things why the men hadn’t returned. She pursed her lips, stared off into the distance and sighed. I know I’m not the only child that has asked this question, and I know I am not the only child who has never received an answer. There is an answer. We all know what it is, but Spheremancers will not allow it to be spoken.

  You see, they are our saviors, they are also our masters. We cannot survive without them, but we also cannot flourish with them here. Our world did not ask for them to come and do this to us, yet, still they came.

  My mother says it is time. I am dressed in a simple frock, a zip up back. She hugs me close. I smile, because I do not wish to see her cry. I’m brave, for the both of us. We walk, hand in hand, down the street. Around us, other mothers and their daughters join us, until we are a crowd.

  The Spheremancers pace us, from above. I know they are here to ensure compliance, but I still take comfort in their presence. Without them, we would be no more. The sound of their hovering, ever present, is the sound of our survival.

  Once we reach the path that leads to the God Machine, our mothers stop. They will go no further. Here they will linger, until we come back. To take us home, to wait for the next generation from between our legs.

  The Spheremancers converge and we follow. I turn back as I hear one mother cry out and attempt to follow us. I watch as her passage is blocked and then we all turn the corner and enter the building.

  The doors shut behind us. Thick, and imposing, they shut with a finality. We begin to grasp hands, huddling, cowering as our eyes adjust to the gloom. The Spheremancers move to separate us. Their electronic voices attempting to portray a semblance of comfort.

  One of them floats towards me. Come this way, it says. I let go of the girl’s hand next to me, but she squeezes tighter. It’s ok, I whisper. This is what we must do. Soon, we will have children of our own.

  The Spheremancer leads me down a long hall. At the end is another door. It hovers beside it and waits for me to catch up. The door glows red as I approach and then wisps away as if it were never there to bar my entrance.

  I step into the room. It is empty. I turn and the door has gone, replaced by a featureless wall. Come forward, a voice says. Present yourself.

  I turn and walk forward, head held high. Acceptance of one’s fate is what has gotten us into this world of forced breeding and compliance. The Spheremancers do not suspect a thing.

  I do not know if there are other places like ours around the world, but I have been told there are. I hope so. I know there are others like me, repeating this same act, at this very moment.

  What happens after, I do not know, but what I do know is this: We will no longer be slaves. We are no longer going to do what we are told.

  The whiteness of the room is blinding and I peer from beneath squinted eyes. Something is at the center of the room, but it is as white as the rest. I can discern no detail.

  I gasp as something slithers up my leg. I force myself to stand still as the bothrium maunders up to my thigh. It encircles my leg and pressure increases. I reach beneath my frock, but resist the urge push the button attached to my chest. I was told to wait until the last possible second, ideally, when I was inside the God Machine.

  It takes all my will.

  The tentacle is slimy, cold, like ice against my bare thigh. Gooseflesh ripples across my skin as it begins to pull me forward.

  Now, I can make out the edges of the thing before me. It is a simple cube, floating. The bothria wiggle about the cube like an evil halo. They glisten in the light, blackness against the harsh white glare. Soon, I am positioned against the cube. My legs are spread and I feel a third tentacle slither between my legs.

  I gasp as it enters me.

  A single tear slides down my cheek as I feel it writhe deep inside me, until I feel it will not stop until it emerges from my throat.

  I can feel it in my thoughts, I am one with the machine. I can feel its fear. It courses through me. I hold onto the one thing I know is true as it tries to take me over, consume me. I hold onto my name. I say it over and over in my mind as it probes and caresses my soul, seeking the cracks in my defenses.

  The member suddenly pulses and goes ridged. As it absorbs the virus flowing through my bloodstream it tries to withdraw its tentacle, but I’ve wrapped my legs around it and hold dear as it thrashes.

  The heat is intense and I feel my thighs singe, the pain is enormous. I hold onto my name. I s
ay it over and over.

  What happens after, I do not know, but what I do know is this: We will no longer be slaves. We are no longer going to do what we are told.

  The End

  Gone

  The air hung in the nursery like a shroud, filling her lungs with its emptiness as she breathed.

  In and out. In and out.

  Her hands smoothed the freshly folded vest, mimicking the movement of her chest as her eyes stared past the four walls and into oblivion. A door slammed somewhere deep within the house, bringing her back momentarily. Her gaze dropped to the small square of white cotton and she lifted it to her face, sniffing the fabric before opening it up and starting the process again. Top to bottom. Left to right. In and out. She felt David’s presence. Felt the shift in the air as his body invaded the stillness of the room.

  “Cass?”

  His shadow fell across her face, masking the paleness.

  “Come on, baby. You have to stop this.”

  His hand on her hair was nothing more than a slight vibration. Someone else’s hand; someone else’s hair. Her empty eyes held their gaze.

  “It’s been six months, Cass. You can’t keep…I can’t keep doing this.”

  In and out. In and out.

  “No. Enough!”

  Movement on her lap. Her hand continued its cycle, falling down to stroke the vest. There was nothing. She blinked, eyes falling to the spot above her knees. “Toby?” It was barely a whisper.

  “Toby’s dead, Cass. He’s gone. Don’t you get it?” His voice broke as he backed away from her.

  “Give it back.” Her fingers knitted tightly together, thumbs scratching deep marks into her knuckles.

  “He’s gone.” David turned and walked through the doorway.

  “Give it back!” she screamed, falling over her feet as she ran after him.

  David was halfway down the hallway when she started raining blows on his back. Her clenched fists hammered into his skin as he opened the door to the bedroom, pushing her away with his arm. She grabbed hold of it, her nails digging into to his forearm. He turned, his hands finding her wrists, and threw her down onto the bed. “I don’t want to fight with you,” he said, scrunching the soft white vest into his palm before placing it onto the bedside cabinet.

  Her eyes narrowed into fiery slits.

  “I hate you,” she spat, scrambling onto hands and knees, launching herself at him. He caught her mid-air and slammed her against the wall. Her words came in spurts, hampered by the pain that shot through her back, “I…HATE…YOU.”

  David raised an arm, slicing it through the air, his open hand connecting with her face and heat radiated through her skin as her head snapped to one side. Slowly drawing her face back, she watched his eyes widen.

  “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry baby.”

  She didn’t care about his words. She needed him. Her lips sought his, ramming into them, her tongue forcing his mouth apart. He groaned, pushing back into her, and she breathed in his anger, letting it simmer deep within her lungs. Her teeth found his bottom lip and she bit hard, drawing blood. Fingers grasped her hair, yanking her head back, sending a wall of fire deep into her brain. Cass let out a guttural yell as David’s teeth sank into the tight skin on her neck, punching and kicking him with renewed vigor.

  Hands still in her hair, he dragged her towards to bed, avoiding the worst of the punches. Landing face down on the mattress with his weight on her back, Cass struggled for breath. The rasp of a zipper cut the air as he moved to the side, still pinning her in place with one hand as the other scrabbled to remove his pants. Her skirt was pushed up and over her ass, and a knee wedged itself between her thighs, forcing them open. David wrapped his hands around the thin cotton panties and pulled. The fabric strained, searing into her pale skin as it resisted the pressure, finally tearing apart, leaving her skin bare.

  A hand ran over the cheeks of her ass, fingers kneading the plump flesh, his other hand hooking underneath her, lifting and pulling her onto him. She felt his prick grazing her thigh for a moment, and then it was pushing into her, stretching her, fucking her. Daggers of lust tore through her stomach, ripping through muscles as she pushed back on to him, her whole body convulsing to his rhythm. Pushing his arms underneath her, David took hold of her breasts, running his thumbs in a circular motion over her nipples.

  “No!” Cass said, “I need you to fuck me.”

  “I thought that’s what I was doing,” David replied, her words stopping his forward thrust.

  “I need it to hurt. Don’t you get it? I need to feel…”

  David’s hands froze as the words seeped through him; maybe pain was what they both needed. He pulled his arms back and ran his nails down her back. Cass arched under his touch. “Harder,” she moaned, pushing her face into the sheets. Blood welled from her back as he repeated the motion, his nails ripping through her skin from shoulders to ass.

  “You fucking bastard,” she cried, the anger in the muffled words igniting the air between them. “You fucking piece of shit cocksucker!”

  The palm of his hand exploded onto her ass-cheek forcing another scream from her lips. “You like that, huh?” David withdrew from inside her and yanked her to the edge of the bed. His hand make contact with her ass again, the sharp sound of skin on skin resonating off the walls as he repeated the act over and over until her cheeks were barely visible through fiery red welts. “So, you still want me to fuck you?” He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back, his tongue tracing the line from chin to earlobe. Her breath came in spurts, intermingled with moans and whimpers. “I’m going to fuck you like the bitch you are. I’m going to ram my dick up your tight little ass and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

  His teeth grazed the side of her mouth, moving downward to her neck as he positioned himself behind her. The air in her lungs was heavy, barely moving as he spread the cheeks of her ass as wide as possible. Teeth sank into her shoulder blade as he forced his way inside her, splitting her open, her body becoming a conduit for pleasure and pain.

  Tears smeared across her face and blood trickled down her thighs as David continued his onslaught, heightening the sensation with every inward assault. Cass bit down on the sheet, reveling in the building tension.

  “Oh fuck, Baby. I can’t hold it,” David said. She felt him push deeper still, clawing at her hips, yelling her name into the air as he came inside her. It pushed all her senses over the edge and she collapsed around him, her body in spasm, muscles pumping his throbbing prick for every last drop.

  They lay on the bed, heaving chests at counterpoint. Sweat and blood clothed their torsos as they clung to one another. Cass reached for the tiny white vest, clasping it with shaking fingers, drawing it to her face. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as her physical and emotional pain collided. “He’s gone, David.” Her voice barely a whisper. “He’s really gone.”

  David held her tight as she wept, his own tears leaving damp patches in her hair.

  The End

  Of Flesh and Skin

  Nyssa noticed the water stain in the upper left corner of the hotel room about six minutes into her most recent tryst. Once she saw the spot, she couldn’t get her mind off of it. The sweat-drenched man breathing heavily on top of her was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Her body shook as he thrust and grunted between her legs, but she felt none of it. She sighed, and for a second the man paused and eyed her. Rousing herself, she smiled up at him and murmured, “Well, go on then, keep going.”

  Nyssa tried recalling his name. Everything else was clear in her mind. Pulling him through the hotel room door, the surprised look on his face as she’d ripped at his clothes, knocking over the table as they’d fallen in a tangled mess towards the bed, the overwhelming need at that point to fuck him, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember his damn name. He’d been different too, with striking features that matched his online photo, unlike all the others who’d either aged twenty years or h
id their original good looks under acres of fat. He was a rarity and because of that it irritated her that she couldn’t think of it. There again, once he’d started pumping into her, he’d shown himself to be just another average Joe. Joe, was that his name? Nyssa shrugged. It didn’t matter that much anyway.