by Liz Crowe
“You were crying without tears.” He wouldn’t allow her the illusion of strength.
“I’m sorry, sir.” She turned her head, hiding her face from him, ashamed that he saw what so many other beings didn’t. “She was the first being I killed. There were other bovines, some predators, and then there was the attack on the agri lot.”
“You killed your cyborg?”
“C345925 saved me. I would never harm him.” She remembered how magnificent he was, how strong and fierce and brave. “I doubt anything could.”
“He was a C model like me.” Rage’s tone was dry. “He could be killed.”
“You remain alive.” Joan gazed at her cyborg’s broad shoulders, massive biceps, delineated abs. “C345925 could be alive also.”
“Who did you kill during the attack, female? Some of your own kind?”
“No, I didn’t kill a human then.” Though she should have. Death by gunfire might have been less painful than being torn to pieces. “I shot some Mantidae. I don’t know if I killed them.”
“You didn’t. They’re difficult to kill.”
“Oh.” Her relief was mixed with sadness. The Mantidae killed her parents, her younger sisters. But the aliens’ deaths had also weighed on her.
“When did you kill your own kind?” Rage was relentless with his questioning.
“I was in the service tunnels, making a repair to a valve, and a male grabbed me from behind.” She chose her most recent kill. “I fought. He toppled into a deep shaft. I didn’t stay to confirm his death but no one could have survived that fall.” She never found out who he was. She didn’t want to know.
“Did you enjoy killing him?”
She stared at him. What kind of question was that? “No being enjoys killing, sir.”
“I do.” Rage’s eyes blazed. “You have proven you can kill to defend yourself.” He removed a small dagger from his stash of weapons, placed it on a horizontal support. “You will carry this whenever you leave these chambers. If you’re attacked again, you’ll use it.”
Joan stared at him. “Why are you giving me a weapon?”
“So you can more easily defend yourself.” He looked at her as though that should have been obvious.
That wasn’t what she was asking. “Do you care what happens to me, sir?”
His eyebrows lowered. “You belong to me, Joan. No one else will kill you.”
He said her name. He saw her as an individual, not some generic female. A lightness filled her. “Thank you, sir.”
Rage grunted and strode to the uploading dock. “We’ll upload the images from the previous deployment now. Kneel by my feet and remain still.”
He wanted her by his side. She hurried to obey his orders, to please him.
Chapter Four
She was in pain.
His little female knelt in front of him, her eyes closed. She’d fallen asleep within moments. Rage suspected, from the state of their chambers, she’d spent the deployment working, not resting as she should have.
Then the dreams started. Her lush body twitched. Cable-twisting whimpers came from her throat. He’d pushed her to remember her past and now, she evidently envisioned the attack on her beloved agri lot.
The names she called were those of her friends and her siblings. Rage recognized them from the constant stream of words she’d inflicted upon him. She talked of death and terror, of waiting to die, wishing she’d been first.
Frag that nonsense. She was a survivor as he was. She took the worst the worlds could throw at her and soldiered on.
Not happily, not without scars as emotionally deep as the physical ones on his body. Shudders shook her form as she relived that planet rotation, sharing every moment with him, every fear, every hurt.
Everything his female thought escaped her mouth. Last planet rotation, he’d considered the flow of information refreshing. Much of his lifespan had been spent in silence. Now, he considered it a new form of torture.
He wished he could dismiss it as an act, as a ploy for sympathy, but Joan wouldn’t lie in her sleep. She might be seeking to harm him, to hurt all cyborgs. That could remain a possibility. But her past agony was real.
And he couldn’t allow it to continue. She’d defended him against the humans. He’d defend her against her memories.
Rage bent over and brushed the soft curls away from his little engineer’s beautiful face. The tendrils coiled around his fingers, embracing him, strands of red interwoven with the brown. Even her hair knew she belonged to him.
He pressed his lips to her forehead. She sighed, calming, leaning into his touch. He licked her skin, tasting her salt and unique female flavor, allowing his nanocybotics to do what they do best—fix broken beings.
Joan’s lips curled into a sweet smile, her skin glowing. “Rage,” she breathed his name.
His big cyborg heart stopped for one beat and then resumed, the malfunction alarming him. Unaware of his response, she murmured gibberish about pleasing him and not being alone.
That caused a warmth to spread across his chest. Rage straightened, shaken.
This was her fault. She was dangerous and cunning and she didn’t react to him as she should. None of the other females behaved this way. His nanocybotics healed their wounds but didn’t arouse them.
All of those previous breedings had been arranged by the Humanoid Alliance. The females didn’t voluntarily open their thighs to him. They had to be artificially lust-struck by drugs before they allowed him to touch them.
It defied logic that his little engineer, loyal to the same Humanoid Alliance, would be different. His processors told him that couldn’t be true. His heart, however, said she was his, his to protect, his to breed with.
She crept closer to him and straddled his left leg, pressing her wet pussy against his skin, branding him with her musky scent. She, a human female, was claiming him, a cyborg. Not a newer model cyborg, either, with their human appearance and speech patterns. He was a C model, primitive, more machine than human.
He didn’t know how to incorporate that input.
Other inputs didn’t compute.
Why would she use a pain inhibitor on him? He hadn’t known there was such a treatment. She could have forgone it and he wouldn’t have noticed.
She hadn’t repaired the wrist and ankle restraints. All equipment was to be kept in top working order. That was standard Humanoid Alliance protocol. Instead, his little engineer had removed the cuffs completely from the uploading dock. Why?
Why wouldn’t she share the details of her attack? Rage remembered the marks on her face and breasts and a righteous anger filled him.
She could have gained his sympathy with that story. No one touched what was his. Yet she irritatingly didn’t share the details, didn’t identify her attacker, and he’d been unable to. There had been no skin-on-skin contact. The smell was too muted to link to a specific human.
He had given her a weapon, possibly to use against him. That could have been an error in logic. But he couldn’t defend her while he was on deployment and he wouldn’t allow any other being to hurt her.
He gazed down at her. She rubbed her breasts against his leg, back and forth, back and forth, whispering about how good it felt, how strong he was.
Confused and frustrated, with more questions than answers, Rage tolerated her touching, hyperaware of every brush of her skin against his. His little female required additional rest and then he’d put her constantly moving mouth to better use.
*****
Rage waited until his processors threatened to overload and his ball was on the edge of exploding. Then he nudged her with his foot.
“What? Where?” She jolted upright. “Is it time for deployment, sir?” He liked that his female gazed up at him for direction, that she gave control over her timetable to him.
“It’s time for you to suck your cyborg off.” Rage pushed his hips forward, presenting his cock to her, half expecting her to reject him, to hurt him in that way.
“I�
��ll please you, sir.” His female beamed, her enthusiasm gratifying. “You won’t regret this.” She sprinkled kisses along his legs, laved his scars with her pink tongue, sending surges of pleasure upward.
Rage watched her with an almost obsessive fascination, the contrast of her pretty face against his marred gray skin exciting him. She was small and round. He was large and unrelenting. She swirled her tongue over a circular entry wound on his right thigh and his cock bobbed, anticipating that tender touch on his tip.
“You want me.” He smelled her arousal, the scent filling his nostrils.
“I shouldn’t, sir.” She nibbled on his raised skin and at his control. “You’re my cyborg, my superior.” She avoided his gaze.
“But you do.” He pushed for the answer he needed. “You want to mount me, to take my cyborg cock into your human pussy.”
Her cheeks heated against him. “I do, sir.” She traced the indent under his metal-reinforced hipbone with her lips, teasing him. “It isn’t logical.”
“It isn’t,” he agreed. Neither was his need for her mouth on his shaft. There was zero possibility of creating offspring. The only purpose was his pleasure.
She nuzzled against his sac, nipping and pulling at his skin, and his fingers twitched. He wanted to touch her, to hold her against him, yet he hesitated, knowing if he did, he’d lose himself in this, in her.
Was that what she wanted, what she waited for?
“Female.”
“Yes, sir?” Joan gazed up at him, her eyes bleary with desire. No. She was as far gone as he was. His little engineer had no plans except pleasing him.
“Lick me,” he ordered, seeking to take back control of the encounter.
She stuck out her dainty little tongue and swept it over him, from base to tip. He shuddered, defenseless under her erotic assault. She licked him again and again, wetting him, rendering his logic powerless, leaving him in the grip of his turbulent emotions.
She nipped at his rim and he folded his fingers into fists. “Stop playing with me.” He couldn’t disguise the need in his voice. “Suck me into your hot mouth.”
Joan pushed her pink lips over his tip, the pressure exquisite, and she slowly sank down, down, down on him. She was wet, warm, undeniably female, and it took everything Rage had not to come instantly, not to shoot his seed down her throat.
He’d mark her. Soon.
But not now. He’d prolong his bliss, make this encounter last, because he didn’t know if it would be their final one, if she’d ever touch him again.
Joan stopped short of his base and huffed, air skimming over his shaft. Was she disappointed that she couldn’t take him completely? That was an impossible goal. He was a C model cyborg, designed to be large all over.
Her slender fingers curled around his base, covering his remaining shaft and Rage looked downward with passion and pride. She was a clever being, his female, improvising. And she was talented with her tongue. She tapped him, a gentle rhythm causing a constant barrage of sensations, heightening the experience.
She withdrew as leisurely as she took him, in no rush to finish him. The other females tolerated his cock in their pussies. Joan savored him, embracing him with her mouth, her eyelids partially lowered, her expression euphoric. Rage didn’t know what to do with her response, how to deal with the pleasure she gave him.
She bobbed over him, taking him deep and pulling back, taking him deep and pulling back, breeding with him using her lips, mouth, hands. He couldn’t remain still. Commanded by her touch, his body moved, swaying toward her.
Then he realized what he was doing.
Fraggin’ hole. His female had enthralled him. Seeking to reestablish his dominance, he thrust harder, deeper into her mouth. She drew away from him.
“Behave, female.” He threaded his fingers through her soft curls and held her still, forcing her to take his cock. “Serve your cyborg.”
She struggled for a couple of moments, squirming and spluttering. Rage maintained his punishing pace until she quieted, until she docilely accepted his invasion, and then he slowed, his need to regain control appeased.
“I’m your master.” He drove into her mouth. She realized that now, he thought smugly. There would be no more acts of sexual aggression toward him. He would give and she would receive.
She excelled at receiving, his little human sucking on him, her full cheeks indenting around his shaft. He’d never seen anything as beautiful as her lips wrapped around his shaft.
Rage ravished her mouth. She gripped his hips, holding onto him, her blunt short fingernails digging into his skin. With every drive forward, his lone ball smacked against her chin, the pain escalating his joy. With every withdrawal, she inhaled harder, as though she wanted to keep him inside her.
He wouldn’t leave her mouth, not until he came. She felt too good. Rage twisted his fingers into her hair. She was made for him, for this, taking a cyborg’s cock.
Not any cock. His. He moved quicker, grunting like the animal he was, pressure forming at the base of his spine, between his balls, phantom and real. He would be the last male she pleasured. He’d guard her well, make certain of that.
She swallowed, her mouth convulsing around him, massaging his shaft, and he jerked, the intensity too much. “Joan,” he warned. If she did that again, he’d—
She swallowed once more.
“Joan,” he bellowed, thrusting hard. Cum spurted from his cock in violent pulses. His little human took all of him, greedily milking him as though he was one of those bovines she always talked about.
His nanocybotics must have hit her stomach. Her lips suddenly vibrated around him in a silent scream, her eyes widening. She shook, the rhythm of her movements matching the energy fluctuations battering his processors.
Throughout her wild release, Joan didn’t let go of his cock, sucking madly on his tip. She drained him of everything, all of his rage, all of his thoughts.
That should have left him weak. Instead, he felt strong, invincible, his entire form throbbing with power.
Rage gripped the top of Joan’s head and closed his eyes, focusing on the ecstasy she’d given him, the rare bliss in a lifespan of pain. He’d kill to keep this feeling, to have this every planet rotation, the thought of losing it, losing her unfathomable.
Which made no sense. As the energy bursts diminished, his logic came back online. Rage opened his eyes, seeing the situation more clearly. Joan Tull was a simple human female.
She affected him this way because he was a primitive C model and he hadn’t had a breeding session for many, many solar cycles. After he’d taken her mouth a few more times, his fascination with her would dissipate. He could dispose of her as he had originally planned.
“That was…that was…wow, sir.” She gazed up at him, her cheeks pink, her lips glistening with his cum. “I still feel you inside me.” She trembled. “Spreading all over my body.” She swept her hands across her succulent breasts. “You’re everywhere.”
Pleasing him made her happy. He didn’t know how to deal with that truth. “Clean me.” He pushed his hips forward, needing more of her touch.
“Yes, sir.” She reached for the cleaning cloth.
“With your tongue.”
“Sorry, sir.” She licked his tip with light dainty flicks, poked and prodded his slit, laved his shaft with the flat of her tongue. His ball wasn’t neglected. She sucked it into her mouth, rolled it gently.
Rage supervised her efforts silently, enjoying her care, not expecting it to last. She remained human, the enemy. She’d hurt him eventually.
But not this planet rotation. She kissed the specks of cum on his thighs, not wasting a drop. When she was done, she looked to him for approval.
He shouldn’t encourage her but he didn’t have the heart to say nothing. “Good job, female.”
“Thank you, sir.” She beamed, her beauty hitting him like a punch to his gut. “You continue to be with me.” She rubbed her rounded stomach. “When will your presence fade?”
He frowned. “It should have faded by now.” The other females said nothing about his nanocybotics lasting.
She must be on a new line of breeding drugs.
But why would she feign ignorance? And why would she ask him these questions?
“When did you last see a medic?” Could they have put her on drugs without her knowledge? That was something the evil humans would do.
“I saw one ten planet rotations ago, when I took the fertility inhibitor.” She maintained a consistent story.
But she would. She was a clever female.
Something wasn’t processing. He gazed at her with suspicion.
“I’ll see a medic while you’re on deployment, sir. Have him run some tests.”
“You will not see a medic.” No one was touching his female, especially not a medic. They had been responsible for his permanent scars.
She looked at him as though he was being irrational.
And he was. She was destined to die by his hand. He shouldn’t care if another being completed that task for him.
But he did care, very much.
“You were attacked once and you barely survived,” he reasoned with her. “You were conscious then. If the medic puts you under--”
“I wouldn’t live through an attack.” Her face paled.
That she feared the entire ship meant someone high up in the command chain was responsible. She’d mentioned Commander Lewis being… what did she call him? A female-hating rectal wipe.
“You’ll carry the dagger with you at all times.” He’d deal with Commander Lewis during his escape. “And you won’t leave our chambers unless it is necessary.”
“Our chambers,” she repeated.
“Whenever I’m here, you’re here. They’re our chambers.” That was a fact, not a declaration of feelings.
Not that he had feelings for her.
“You’ll stay in them,” he emphasized that point. No one except her could access the inner door. Not even Boyd could enter their chambers.
“I have to fulfill my duties, sir.” Joan lifted her chin. “One of those is to accompany you to the docking bay.”