BEAST HORDE TRILOGY BOXSET: MFM SciFi Romance

by Cari Silverwood

  “Let’s give a shout to Rutger first?” she suggested.

  “Why? You afraid?”

  “Of?” she asked idly, as he prodded the unlatched left wing of a pair of gray doors with the toe of his boot and pushed it open. It swung fully open and clicked into a holding catch on the wall.

  “Me.”

  Said so dryly, she wasn’t sure what he meant. Then again, maybe she did. She narrowed her eyes.

  “Of you? Never.”

  “Hmmm.”

  This was a workshop area. Against the wall shared with the showroom was a long bench covered with spanners, wrenches, pieces of engines and other repair-related gear. Five vehicles were in various states of disarray—doors off, dashboards pulled out and left next to them, engines with the hood up.

  He wandered past a dismantled car raised on a hoist, with the hood up and the tires off. The engine lay on the floor with chains hooked to a hoist ready to crank it higher to where the empty engine bay waited. Another engine on an overhead chain, hook, and pulley system had long ago fallen onto a car, crushing part of it. Someone’s lunch box lay on the bench and nearby a metal fitting sat locked in a vice.

  Vargr reached up and grabbed her by the waist then brought her over his head. With a sudden twist, he flipped her in a circle and caught her again, then deposited her butt-down on the bench.

  Her one gasped swear word as he tossed her was soon forgotten, along with her shock, though she hankered to call him a bastard. He’d distracted her by reaching and snagging the collar she still wore. In a deadly serious tone he said, “I think, you should be.”

  Using a finger or two he twisted the collar tighter until she must lift her neck. His other hand was on her thigh, squeezing her muscles through the gray leggings. Leggings, jeans, and T-shirts with odd slogans—the required fashion for the apocalypse.

  “Should be what?” She knew, even though the words he was following up on were ages ago, she remembered them. Smiling, she waited to hear him say it.

  “You should fear me.” A red tide sifted higher in his irises. “You should fear what your nanites are doing. I can feel them pouring through me, eating up the man I was.”

  It was a bald statement, but she doubted Vargr’s true self was vanishing, though fearing him was tempting her.

  The muscles and veins of his recently demolished arm—the one he used to hold her collar—it pulsed a shifting red. It glinted with brilliances here and there, like the motes that fell from Rutger, yet these were trapped within his blood.

  She’d seen his arm before, but not in such detail. How much was he changing?

  “But you’re not a man. You’re a beaster,” she suggested quietly and in awe.

  “Is this how you feel? How you felt when you shot me?” He bared his teeth, and she saw the tips of them, even and white.

  “How is that?” she asked, lifting her hand to trace a thick vein down his arm. A subtle thrill met her fingertips.

  “I want to fuck you until you scream. I want to fuck you and hurt you.”

  Ohhh myyy. Her eyes had surely widened.

  “I want to tie you down, hurt you, fuck you, then hurt you some more.”

  She jerked her gaze to his, sucked in an excited breath. His words aroused her, and her nipples were poking at her bra. Always a good sign. “Hurt me?” she asked, breathlessly. “How?”

  Give me details.

  His smile twisted then straightened. The red particles in his eyes rose like a venomous sea.

  “You want this. I should’ve fuckin’ known.”

  Well, now he’d said it, she wasn’t actually sure. “Rutger isn’t here,” she whispered. It would be safer if he was.

  And less exciting.

  “You didn’t answer me. Is this what your nanites do?” He let go of the collar and stepped backward. His wings opened out, wide and vast, until his foot stirred a chain pooled on the floor below a hoist hook. Vargr stooped and began to methodically gather the chain. What did he plan to do?

  “Tell me.” Holding the swinging and coiled chain, he closed in on her again.

  “I don’t know if it’s the same. We are not the same. Violence turns me on.”

  “Sometimes?”

  “Always?” There would be limits, wouldn’t there?

  Very slowly, as if giving her time to duck, he grabbed the top of her hair and twisted until she had to slide off the bench, drop to her feet and turn to face the bench.

  “This?” He pushed her face to the oily timber. She squeaked at that, at the smell of oil, the wrench of those fingers, and at the delicious feel of him behind her, his body crowding hers.

  He nudged at her with a hard cock, pressing its length between her legs.

  “Violence like this?”

  The world narrowed down. “Mmm. Yes.” Hell yes.

  Do me, her pussy was saying in no uncertain body language, her ass swaying against that hardness.

  “Good.” That word was a guttural noise.

  Her nanites had clearly done interesting things.

  The chain rattled as he clipped it or hooked it to the side of her collar, stilling her breath as she absorbed this act, and it rattled some more as he dragged her sideways to the vice, wound that device apart, then clamped the chain inside it.

  Pinned in one place by ungiving metal, she swallowed—collar at her throat, chain to the vice. Though, really, all she had to do to be free was unwind the vice.

  She checked it out, from the corner of her eye, smiled, then brought her hand to the vice.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  Vargr caught that hand, and the other, and took them to the small of her back.

  Tingles ran down through her from spine, from where he pressed on her ass, to between her legs.

  Fuck. So nice,

  She squirmed again, whimpering when he bit her shoulder, once, twice. He chuckled. The pain of those bites echoed, awakening her to the possibilities of him fucking her while she was stuck here, wriggling. Waking her to the chance that he could easily bite a piece out of her.

  She could heal almost anything, but Vargr was showing signs of being unhinged.

  Unhinged is what I love.

  “I think I fucking like this.” He wrapped the remains of the chain about her wrists and knotted it.

  Tying knots in chain was… she decided on reflection, scary. How strong was he?

  She was strong but could never have beaten her two beasters in a wrestle. Now, she was completely outdone. She twisted her wrists and the knots held.

  “To get loose, you’ll have to beg, pretty one.” The tease in that voice. The fact he suggested it said she could still rely on him to be moderately trustworthy. Plus, being made to beg sounded yummy.

  Cyn sighed…

  Her leggings were slowly drawn down to the crease of ass and thigh, and Vargr whistled at the sight. Her panties joined the leggings. His whole hand curved over her ass then between her legs, slickly sliding in her wetness.

  “So much here already. I should’ve known. I could make your ass bloody, and you’d make googly eyes at me.”

  She wasn’t going to deny it, and only laid the side of her face on the bench to better feel how he handled her, wriggling, squirming, wanting more. Her clit was eventually given attention, but it was glancing, inadequate. She whined, and he only laughed and shoved several fingers into her pussy then fucked her with them.

  “Nice, wet cunt. Ready for cock, hey? Not yet.” He played lazily with her clit, circling it, making it slippery, and she imagined his tongue there and pushed her ass up and back.

  “Uh-uh.” He smacked the flat of his hand onto her ass cheek, three times, then slid his other hand between her and the table, cupping her mons before he smacked her ass again, harder, flaring pain and heat into her skin.

  Fuck. She exhaled shakily, twined her fingers about one another where they lay bound at her back. The chain was heavy on her there and seemed to pulsate, wickedly.

  A second later he hauled him
self up to sit atop the bench beside her, on the opposite side to the vice. She turned her head and studied him, waiting.

  In his hand was gathered a whip-thin rod of steel and a twisted collection of insulated wires of many colors. His smile was seductive and promised the deliverance of evil. “Do you deserve punishment, my little Cyn? I believe you do. Let me count the ways…”

  This was… disturbing. She licked her lips, fascinated.

  “Your nanites,” she ventured. “Are definitely not behaving as they do inside me. The old Vargr would not have done this.” She rolled her eyes as best she could, to indicate how he’d chained her, trapped her.

  Silence descended for more than a few seconds.

  “I did warn you.” He laid the steel rod on her butt and rolled it over the globe of one cheek until he reached the split between. She felt it slide between the lips of her pussy. He rocked it side to side, letting it settle deep, until it seemed imbedded there.

  Then he leaned over as if to examine her butt, and she gasped as he cupped her hip, crushing her flesh.

  “Want this or the wires?” He lightly tapped her pussy with the length of the rod.

  This wasn’t pain, it was sexually invasive, but she hoped he only meant to strike her ass with it.

  “Not between the legs, but… the wires.”

  His face appeared before her, inches away, and he brushed her lips with his, bestowing a gentle kiss. The red in his eyes rose and subsided, a glittering tide.

  “Not your pussy? I choose the wires too.”

  He sat up, laid aside the rod, and drew the wires through his fist.

  “Though my balls ache to use the rod. You shot me, remember?”

  Where they ran over his hand, the multicolored wires attracted her in a lurid, malevolent way, like a snake would fixate a victim.

  “You forgave me. I may even have a recording of it.” Her lips twitched at the lie. She was never one to volunteer. She needed to make him do this, and yet not exactly make him.

  “I did but you don’t. Naughty. You also yelled at Maura and forced her to inject me.” He jabbed at his arm and chest.

  Oh she had done that. She smirked. “You’d be dead, if I’d not made her.”

  “I’m still punishing you.” He angled himself toward her and said in a hushed voice, as if this was a secret, “Violence and pain have gained a whole new fucking meaning.”

  “I know,” she whispered back.

  She did know. Knew it so well. And cruelty too was redefined. Maybe Vargr was the only one who could ever understand this. She wanted cruelty done to her, she wanted to do it to others like the Ghoul Lords, and the one craving seemed to cancel out the other.

  “Do it, asshole. I fucking dare you.”

  He laughed and jumped off then moved behind her, and she saw the shadow of his raised arm on the wall. Instinct made her try to jerk away, but she couldn’t.

  Instincts sucked.

  The first strike made her wince.

  “One,” he announced dryly. “Pull your hands higher. We’ll try ten. I hope I remember how to count.”

  She drew her hands up. He remembered well, she found. By ten, she was panting and flinching at each blow, though not screaming. He could hit far harder. Vargr still had some restraint left in him.

  Her butt was screaming, though, and she was breathing through clenched teeth.

  “Want me inside you, babe?” he purred.

  She swallowed past the pain, then croaked out, “Fuck, yes.”

  “Not yet.” The amusement in his words was stark. She heard the bundle of wires hit the floor and slide, where he flung them.

  Bastard.

  Without so much as an apology he moved away, leaving her with that craving to be filled and the marks on her butt flaring in throbbing bouts of hurt.

  “Well, well,” Rutger said from somewhere to her left, and she opened her eyes to find him standing beside a large door further down from the entry they’d used. It was clearly made for the cars to drive through. Little Mo waited at his heels. “Go.” He waved at the bot, and it scuttled away, in the direction of the showroom. “Little Mo told me to find you. You two are not allowed alone together from now on.”

  “What?” Vargr barked.

  “You heard me. I was ready to shoot you. Are you done now? Square? That’s blood on her.”

  She wriggled about at that, tried to crane her neck to see. Ooo. Blood…

  Then heard Vargr chuckle. “See?”

  “Even more reason to be the judge in this relationship. The two of you together are dangerous. You’d destroy each other. It’s the nanites, isn’t it? Obviously. Don’t fucking answer. Maybe it’ll wear off.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “I am still me, Rutger,” he added softly. “They just make me feel alive and lust after fucking violence and… fucking her.”

  “The last one is fine. Willow is doing that research so once we know what she is and you maybe are, we need to think again. Talk again.”

  “And now?”

  This time Rutger laughed. “We fuck her. Do we let her go, a bit?”

  She heard his boots as he approached. Vargr had removed his, and now she watched both of them undress, from the corners of her eyes.

  “Do we let you go, hey?” Rutger asked, his cock and him coming closer, and he leaned down to eye her from inches away. “He has got you in a nice position.”

  “Mmm.” She stuck out her tongue and managed to lick the tip of his nose. She wanted them to decide.

  Then Vargr put his cock to her slit and pushed. It slid up and down, widening her entrance as it passed by, pressing in by an inch, two. Then he slipped out again. She whined and arched from the table, despite knowing Rutger was keenly observing. Her breasts left the surface, and he sneaked a hand beneath and caressed her there, circling one nipple.

  “I’d say she likes that.” Rutger smiled and squeezed finger and thumb over her nipple, crushing her flesh until she snapped shut her eyes and groaned. He released her and climbed to his feet, then he reached across her back to release the chain from the vice, only to clamp it in a different place.

  Cock entered her again. “Ohhh.” She huffed, breathed in, out.

  Vargr fucked her slowly, a few strokes and not deep. Was he teasing her?

  “Fuck her hard a few times then I want her on her knees. I want her mouth.”

  Vargr obliged, drove into her, and Rutger smiled as she stared at him, rocked and slapped to and fro, by Vargr, and her breasts pushed to the bench.

  The beaster grabbed her hair in his fist and angled back her head for the last… two… thrusts.

  By then she was more than a little overcome. “Fuck. Fuck.” She burbled erratically, catching her breath in fits and starts.

  She felt Vargr suck out his cock, heard him step away, and she slumped.

  “Yeah, she liked it, man. Fuck. Bring her down.” Vargr sniffed then helped Rutger manhandle her to the floor, leaving her on her knees, with her hands still tied at her back and the chain on her collar hanging heavy and leading up the vice.

  Her pussy spasmed in at the sight of the two of them standing over her naked, with those very large and enticing erections.

  “Let’s both fuck her mouth first.” Vargr grinned. “I know she wants cock in cunt.”

  “Shhh,” she whispered, squirming on her heels and feeling her own slickness wet her ankles. Her pussy felt so swollen, so needy. Her breasts heavy.

  “You’re definitely more evil.” But Rutger stepped up and took her head in both hands, holding her firmly so she could not escape. He aimed and pushed his cock head into her mouth, waiting as she opened wider, wider. Then he thrust in, fucking her there with little mercy, watching her face avidly, the same as she watched his.

  The rise of lust rendered her near thoughtless. She merely wanted, and was the vessel from which he took pleasure.

  Once he was done with her, Vargr fucked her mouth also, filling her there, relentlessly pumping, while Rutger stood back stroki
ng himself. When Vargr withdrew, they eyed her, both cocks wet with her saliva, and they pulled at themselves. Which was when she noted the difference to Vargr—the nodules on his cock had become nanite red.

  That promised… interesting times.

  They’d left her empty, everywhere. Her nipples were sticking up, her cunt below and her mouth ached for something of them—cock or fingers or mouth.

  She licked her lips and watched for a while, then eventually she whined. “Heyyy. Me?”

  “Begging?” Rutger raised a brow. “Say it. What do you want? This?” He ran his fist down his cock and up, squeezed the head. She swore she could feel him entering her when he did that.

  She shut her eyes, opened them. “Yes. Please. Fuck me like there’s no fucking tomorrow.” She switched her gaze to Vargr, her almost evil twin. “Fuck me hard.”

  “Was that enough pleases?” he asked Rutger.

  “No. More.”

  Cyn bent forward, a little, pleading with her body, her wrists twisting and straining to be free of the chains, because she was getting inclined to smack them both. “Fuck me. Please! Or else.”

  “Uh-uh.” Vargr waggled his finger.

  She pouted and wriggled her butt. “Damn you both.” This was excruciating, embarrassing, and so fucking hot. She inhaled, let it out. “Please? I want to feel you both in me. Please?”

  “I’m tempted to do her gently with soft kisses and with rose petals strewn on the floor,” Rutger mused.

  “And a champagne dinner on a terrace with violins playing?”

  They looked at each other and shook their heads. They circled her, Rutger undoing the chain at the vice and at her hands, then drawing her forward, making her crawl to him while he held the chain like a leash.

  “Rose petals? Stupid idea.” That was Vargr. “This one likes wrestling with us, being forced to be our fuckdoll, not champagne.”

  She flicked her gaze to him, pouted. Well, she’d go for both… being fucked on a table on a terrace, and forced. Instead, they were messing about.

  “Both of you are in my bad books now.”

  “Oh? Watch your mouth. We get to do the insults when we have you like this.” The mean twinkle in Rutger’s eyes beguiled her.