The good news is that Krush clearly hates Rath, which means Rath is no longer betraying the rebels. Probably. Hopefully.
* * *
Krush
I am starting to realize that this human has more value than I gave her credit for. I thought she would only be good for hurting and perhaps for some light confessional work. But she knows more than the humans. She knows the traitor Rath, too.
“How loyal are you, human?”
“Very,” she says.
“More loyal to others than yourself? Willing to lose your life to protect theirs?”
“Yes.”
She doesn’t even have to think about it. She has a quiet kind of bravery which is hard not to admire. But I can’t tolerate that. I want her secrets. I want to know everything she knows. What started as a brutish attempt to use her has turned into a slightly less brutish attempt to use her.
She is still prostrating herself before me on the ground. Or at least, sitting there. I don’t want her down there. It doesn’t feel right. She’s naked and she can’t get comfortable, which means she’s not going to answer questions as easily.
“Get up.”
She starts squirming awkwardly in an attempt to get up.
She can’t stand. I forget that. Even while I’m staring at her, seeing her every wound, I forget somehow that there’s anything wrong with her at all. Because she’s perfect.
“Sorry,” she apologizes as she scrambles up onto her leg. I could assist her, but I don’t. I watch, trying to discern what it is this human makes me feel. “If I could have some tools and some materials, I could build myself another leg.”
“Tell me what I want to know, and I will have the finest augmented limb fashioned for you. What happened to your leg and your eye?”
Her left eye is missing. It is not something that I notice readily because of the augment fitted into the socket. I am used to seeing korabi and humans alike fitted with technology to amplify their natural gifts. Sometimes, it is easy to forget what must have been lost to allow the implantation to take place.
“I was an infant when a drone killed my mother and damaged me.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
This is awkward, which is about the last thing I thought it would be. This should be a moment of brutal triumph, and of absolute humiliation. I’m not supposed to be talking to this human, let alone finding things in common with her.
“We have both lost parents to this damnable war between korabi and humans.”
“Yes.”
“Well, then.”
She gives me a subtle shrug, combined with a twist of her lips which indicates she no longer holds bitterness about the events of her past. Her wounds were inflicted so long ago she can no longer remember a time she did not live with them. They have shaped her life. They have made her who she is. And they have brought her here, to this torture chamber where I am beginning to lose my stomach for revenge.
“Did you like it when I used you?”
I change the subject and I watch her flush with embarrassment, all the way to the tips of her pink nipples. Of course she liked it. She loved it. I can still feel the contractions of her cunt around my cock, strong and greedy.
“Yes,” she admits in a little mumble.
“You felt like you loved it,” I say, pressing the matter. I want to see shame fill her. I want to see her wrestle with the knowledge that I, the ultimate korabi dominator, have taken her body and left her with pleasure. That feels like a triumph, even if it is not the one I wanted originally.
“You are a very skilled lover, sire.”
“Lover?” I bite the word out. “What we did was not love, human. It was punishment.”
“Who was being punished? Do I know them?”
The quip trips off her tongue before she can stop it. I know that because the look of horror on her face when she realizes what she just said to me is priceless. This human knows her place.
“Perhaps not an effective punishment for a greedy little wretch like you, a fuck-hungry little human…” I reach down between her thighs, and I play with those soft, still swollen lips.
It is not easy for her to balance while I finger her. She is forced to reach for my arm. I feel her fingers pressing into my muscles as I spread her tight inner walls once more with a probing gesture. Ah yes, this cunt is mine, and it knows it. It opens for me, allows me to slide deep inside it, makes a lovely brew of sweet-scented desire just for me.
She is making little moaning and panting sounds, a hot red flush across her nose and cheeks. She presses into me, gives herself to me and yet again I find myself forgetting the worst of our roles. I am entranced by her delicacy and her strength, her softness, and the absolute steel of her will.