Silver
He moves a lot faster than scythkin usually do. I depress the trigger a second time, and somehow the electricity misses him completely. He grabs me around the waist and swings me off the ground, wrestling the weapon from me and tossing it to the ground.
“You should have used full power to begin with,” he growls in my ear.
“I will next time,” I growl right back.
There’s no getting free once a scythkin gets hold of you. I know that with a flex of a single muscle he could drive a blade right through my body. These aliens are deeply dangerous. I hate how helpless I am the moment he touches me. It feels like he’s used a charge on me, but he doesn’t need technology to make his will felt in my flesh.
I am reacting to this scythkin. I don’t know why. Maybe it is the green eyes. Most of the others I’ve met had a glowing red gaze. His is like being stared down by something radioactive. I can feel the effects of him making me tingle. I wonder if he is as toxic as radiation, if that melting sensation I have is the feeling of my internal organs about to seep out of my pores — or if it is something far more twisted and dangerous.
He is also of a different coloration than most others of his kind. He is silver, fading to black beneath his arms and along the outside of his thighs. He looks like a massive shiny walking machine, but when he touches me, I feel the animal heat of a living being.
I have got to get a grip. This is far from the first scythkin I have been grabbed by. For the last few months, I have been kept captive in a dozen useless ways. This is one more jailer in a long line, and I have no intention of letting him get to me.
But he already has.
The moment he brushed his fingers over my face when he took the blindfold off. He looked inside my soul, and I saw his.
I didn’t like what I saw. Usually these aliens are empty. He’s not. There's something inside him I recognize. Pain.
“Put me down.”
“That was suggested, but no. I think you're better off alive.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant. If you think you are getting away from me, you’re wrong. This is your last stop. There are no more prisons after this one. There are no more escapes. This is it for you, Silver. You are mine.”
Those three words, growled with that perfect alien intensity, do things to the inside of me I don’t want them to do. I am so hyper reactive to him in ways I cannot explain. Maybe it is an effect of the sedatives. Or maybe it’s something they’re doing to me, a pheromone in the air. They are capable of anything.
“Hello? You still there?”
A voice emerges from the bank of machinery. I heard him talking to the IHPZ as I took aim. He sounded pissed off about my condition, but I’m not going to give him too much credit for that.
Warden reaches out and slams his hand down on the console, cutting the call off. I guess he doesn’t want to talk anymore. I guess he’s embarrassed at having nearly gotten his ass kicked, live on air.
“I will talk to them later,” he says. “I’m dealing with you now. And do you know what I’m going to do to you?”
“Beat me? Kill me? I don’t care.”
“Feed you,” he tells me. “After I chain you down and pleasure you until you beg me to fuck you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I know so. You pretended to be sedated in order to attack me. That will be the last bit of pretense you ever get away with on this ship.”
I can feel his incredible power holding me down, his domination flowing through me in waves of energy which seem to penetrate my flesh. This scythkin is not like others. They are all big and powerful, domineering and overbearing. But they don’t all make me feel like this. There is an electricity between us, a charge which zips from the places his hands touch, right to the soft, wet core of me.
“You almost got the better of me,” he says. I can hear something like respect in his voice.
I wish I wasn’t naked. I wish his hands weren’t so hot and rough and stimulating. I wish there was something I could do about the fact he is chaining me down, securing me to the floor by my four limbs, spreading my thighs apart so he has access to me, and then clipping my feet into restraints which he pulled from the same place he took that medical radar gun thing. He made these for me ahead of time. He always intended to use them on me. I just gave him a reason to do so.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells me. “And dangerous. One of the few humans I know of who ever managed to take the life of a scythkin.”
“I’ve killed dozens of your kind,” I tell him with no small measure of pride. I want to rile him. I want him to know it doesn’t matter if I am lying here, pathetically tied down, waiting for whatever vengeful punishment he might have in mind.
“I know.” He runs his fingers gently through my hair as he says those two words almost lovingly.
I don’t get the impression I disgust or anger this scythkin. At my previous place of incarceration, it was obvious from the way they spoke to me and how they handled me that they considered me an abomination they would rather do without. All the women captured with me were put into a training regime of discipline and rewards. But I didn’t give a fuck about rewards. I just wanted…
“Unhhh….” My thoughts are interrupted by the intense arrival of a wave of pleasure washing over me. My captor is putting my bindings to good use, touching me between my thighs, exploring my body with an adept touch.
Just as I think I cannot take this anymore, that I am going to give in and submit to his orgasmic talents, the world explodes into a cacophony.
WEEOOOO! WEEOOOO! CONTAINMENT BREACH! LEVEL ONE PROTOCOLS INITIATED!
His fingers drift away from my sex.
“Be a good pet,” he tells me. “I have to go.”
He leaves to deal with whatever has breached containment and I am left alone and chained, my body humming with frustrated arousal. I swore I’d never submit this way. I promised myself that I’d rather die than allow myself to be taken by a scythkin. But then life happened. Capture happened. My crew and I were swept up so quickly and efficiently there wasn’t time to sell my life dearly before I was taken by these aliens.
I resisted the first set of captors. They tried beating me into submission, punishing me, humiliating me, whatever they thought would work. Nothing did. My hatred for them made it easy to resist them. And then they sent me here. To this scythkin. He’s of a different brood and maybe even a different breed.
It took him less than an hour to start breaking me down. I wish I knew why, but I think it is something chemical, a reaction between us. I’ve tried to shut down my responses. I’ve tried to retreat into the mental fortress which has been fortified with years of hardship, grief, and pain. But it doesn’t work. Not with him.
I want to resist, but my body is fighting me. I can feel the wetness between my thighs, that light, traitorous trickle of need emerging from me to slick the passage of an alien cock deep inside my flesh.
Everything about this is wrong. We are enemies, he and I. We have both done unspeakable things, and the fact that he is in possession of me does not change what has to be a mutual hatred. The past is present as far as I am concerned. Everything which happened to me at the hands of the scythkin, the incredible loss which makes me ache inside from the moment I wake until the moment I sleep, and taints my dreams with tears, that remains no matter how aroused I become.