ALIEN STORY-7
Written by Ruthless
The Darloxian, Neaf, mumbled the blood off of the floor and off my body when they were done. Darren flipped me roughly onto my back and spread my arms and legs wide with his boots. He stood staring down. The look of disgusted fascination that had twisted his face as he raped my mouth was gone. The dark brooding look was back
But he left me lying posed like that and spoke with the Darloxian. The sound that came out of Neaf was exactly like the sound of a human voice.
“Humans are so little, Darren, and the arms, so limited. Can you understand? This one is not you and yet it makes me want to pull him close, to feel him and to taste him. I cannot do it with you, never to you, but to this one. It makes me closer to you somehow, even though nothing is the same and this one is not my Darren and not like you at all.”
“No, I don’t understand.” Darren’s voice, usually at ease and warm with the Darloxians, was tight and guarded.
“It makes me closer to you somehow, Darren.” The alien repeated.
“I think the human is too small. He’ll die from big you are.” Darren said.
“No.” said Neaf. “It will live and be here for you to make pleasure for yourself with.”
Neaf left the cabin, and Darren sat on his high narrow bunk, the tips of his boots swinging near me. After awhile I moved, and although my captor had placed me the way he wanted me, he didn’t react when I changed position. I closed my wide legs and wrapped my arms around my chest. The burning was incredible. I rocked minutely with the pain.
I did not want to live. I wanted to be killed just as quickly and as soon as possible. All I wanted was for the pain to stop, for the fear to stop. As long as I was alive the pain in my savagely brutalized body went on. And as long as I was alive, I was only as far away from the torture that my captors were inflicting on me, as their next whim to start over.
Darren left this cabin, came back again, attended to his own needs. When he was in the cabin he usually perched in his bunk and fixed his gaze on me, leaving his hands idle. I did not stay awake, but the sleep I had could have been part unconsciousness and it never took me away from the pain. The damage to my body was so bad, that even in sleep I was aware of it.
How much later it was, I don’t know. It was probably five or eight hours. I lay on my side, arms wrapped protectively about myself. There was ooze coming out of the stings. Clear, smelly fluid was beading out where the swollen skin had cracked. It was weeping out of my nipple like a lactating woman’s breast. The swelling had gone down but only because the fluid was leaking. The burning sensation of hot coals searing under my skin went on. I had gained a little strength. I was thinking, just a little.
If I ask the man to kill me, he won’t. If I ask him please kill me, he won’t do it. I shaped the words but could not dredge up the courage to say them. It was not because I was afraid of the death that I wanted to plead for, but because I was afraid of the refusal. Yet all the same, I managed to shape a word.
“Darren?”
The effect on the terrorist was immediate. He sat up sharply and then leaned down over me. His scowling face bent in close. He was listening intently.
“Sir…” Using his name might be too familiar, that might anger him. I tried to pick my words so that they would not be offensive. “I want…” My resolve slipped away.
His dark eyebrows tilted like wings. “You want!” He spoke loudly. “What do you want? A blanket? You’re cold, you shivering piece of shit? Or water? Is that what you want? Just a little drink of water to wet your broken lips?”
He paused. His mouth pressed tight for a moment. “Alright, I’ll give you water. I’ll give you a little drink of water, but you have to earn it.”
He came down on his knees on the floor in front of me. The material of his trousers stretched taut over his legs. The bulge in his crotch was prominent. Slowly, sensually and self-consciously he drew his zipper down. His fly gaped. He undid the button. The material of his under shorts bulged out. His strong narrow hand reached down to cup the fabric and brought his penis out.
His cock was hard, of course. It was dark with the swelling, the smooth cap standing up tall in front of his belly. He displayed it to me in front of my nose. It was so fully erect that the wrinkles were gone and the skin stretched tight, the veins visible. It wasn’t horrible at least, because it was familiar in its own way. It was the prick of another human, not the rape tool of a depraved alien.
I’m human, I thought. It doesn’t matter to him that I’m disgusting or that I’m wounded and soiled and male. I’m human and he hasn’t had contact with his own species in so long that even my presence makes him horny.
“Look at my face, Iver.” He ordered.
I looked up. A smirk twisted that expressive mouth again.
“Lick me.”
Awkwardly I shifted forward. I brought my lips close to the soft solid cap of his prick. I stuck out my tongue and licked.
Inside what I felt was terror, verging on hysteria. If he clawed down over me, if he flung me about and got his belly pressed against my torso, if that tall shaft got poked up inside my bum… The pain of another rape would be unendurable. He could not, he must not slide that prick into my mutilated opening. But if he wanted to, he would.
“Lick it again.” His voice was slowing; it was losing the furious tension behind the tight syllables, as he savoured the sensation. I licked him again, rocking my chin towards him, lapping. I didn’t stop. I played my tongue on the rounded end of his cock.
“Kiss it.” He ordered.
I brought my lips together and I kissed. I kissed and tongued the head of his penis. He stayed without impatience. He didn’t yank it away form me or cram it into my mouth. He sat without moving, while I nuzzled his prick weakly from the floor.
If I can get him to cum in my mouth, maybe he won’t stick it up my bum, I thought.
I didn’t believe that I could do it, but it was a hope where there had been no kind of hope at all. I crawled a little farther so that I could take the tip between my lips and mouthed on his prick. I kept up with the gentle lapping and kissing but added sucking as well. I could hear the terrorist breathing, deep slow breaths from the bottom of his lungs. I kissed beyond the head of his prick down his shaft.
Please don’t stop me! I thought desperately. It was excruciating to drag my body upward enough so that I could service him, but inch by inch I did it, until I was up enough to lean into his crotch. By then I was beginning to take his firm, clean tasting prick into my mouth. He must have washed it scrupulously, because there was almost no flavour except that of the skin, and there was a faint basic residue of soap. His penis had some pink marks on it, like scrapes. I could not imagine what he had done to himself to inflict those, but I kissed tenderly over the little discoloration.
Darren moved. He sat back with a groan, shifting his thighs wide. He wasn’t stopping me. I was already exhausted, but I didn’t let my flagging strength show. I kept his dick sliding smoothly up and down to the back of my throat. For some reason, I didn’t gag. Except the first horrifying time when his prick had gone into my mouth, I had never sucked cock before. I guess it didn’t occur to me that I might gag, and with everything else hurting and my own desperate need to give him pleasure, no matter what, so that he wouldn’t turn around and fuck me, I felt no repugnance for what I was doing.
His hand rose up once and pawed briefly, lightly at my head before it dropped down. I took that as a cue that he wanted more sensation and I tightened my lips and bobbed my head more swiftly. Don’t stop me. Oh, Pantheon, don’t stop me. I thought. He allowed me to go on.
I was taking his cock almost all the way now. I had rolled over so that I was on my belly, propped up with one arm. I didn’t know that I could take him farther if I stretched my neck straight out, so his cock was being stopped by the back of my mouth and I could not bring a hand up to help myself out. All the same the stroke was gliding swiftly and Darren was beginning to pant.
It was his arousal that gave me the strength to go on. As long as I was getting the response that the feel of my tongue and lips were keeping him interested, I endured the effort that it took my weak and battered body.
“Fuckin’ little cock sucker.” He moaned. “You fuckin’ little cock sucker. You like this. You’re greedy for this.”
I would have answered yes if I could have without stopping. I did answered yes by forcing my nose down as close to his pubic hair as it would go. I drove swiftly although dizziness was rising in me, threatening to make me pass out.
“Iver, you dirty primate.” He was writhing. He wanted more. I had nothing more to give. “Oh you fucking, disgusting bastard.” Darren groaned. “Eat that cock. Fuckin’ choke yourself on it!”
And then I felt him spasm. His hands clawed on my bare shoulders and somehow that was enough more sensation for him. I barely felt the peels of skin he raked down. I felt the throb in his turgid organ. The man’s whole body shook. His cum surged in my mouth. I held onto him, as deep as I could, tongue thrusting rhythmically under his prick to make his orgasm as good as I could, while my mouth filled with slime and bitterness.
After wards I licked it up. Delicately I used my tongue to take the white blobs from the rosy tip of his cock, and a glistening smear of the salt mucus from his ridged shaft. I even laid my face down on the floor and licked up the three white globs that had dripped to the smooth ground between his knees.
He watched me licking it up while he was there recovering for a few moments. I couldn’t tell if I had pleased him or not. “Shit…” he muttered softly. I lay still, waiting for his verdict, waiting to see if I had assuaged any of his venom, while he tucked himself back in to his pants.
He got up on his knees looming above me and then the jeering cadence in his voice was back. ‘I’ll bet you’re pretty fuckin’ thirsty, giving me a performance like that. Aren’t you, human?”
He stood. “Well, aren’t you? Tell me.”
“Yes, I’m thirsty.” I spoke softly. I said the words because I was told to. I didn’t expect him to fill the bargain he had made and although my saliva was ropy with thirst and my body craved water, I didn’t especially want to drink. I was not thinking of tending myself, or of getting better. I only wanted to escape the pain. Thirst was less important than that.
He moved away. He came back with a plastic cup. I looked up at the cup and at his saturnine face, trying to gauge its emotion. Once more it was guarded, with something evil looming in the slight crease between his brows.
“If you’re thirsty.” He said, “Beg for it.”
“Please.” I said. My voice came out clear. I did not really know what I was begging for. “Please, Sir.”
His handsome curving mouth suddenly quivered. He lifted his foot. The hard sole of his boot came down on my face precisely. He placed his foot over my mouth, not putting even nearly his full weight down, but only enough pressure that it crushed my lips against my teeth. He could, I knew, transfer his weight and if he stood on me, it would break my jaw. But all he did was place it there so that he could see my frightened eyes staring up at him around his boot.
“What should I do with you, Iver?” He asked. “Hurlock wants to play with you. He asked me, give me the human to play with and let it die while I’m playing with it. That’s what he’d like. And Neaf says keep you, hang onto you so I have a fuck toy to get my rocks off into. Keep you! You’re far too much of a pain to look after. If I let you stay alive you’ll have to have food and water.”
He took his boot off of my face.
“You think I need a space-whore? You were supposed to end up with the other passengers. I hate having you on this ship.”
He paused. “Thirsty?” He said consideringly. “Okay, you earned it.”
He tilted the cup. It was water. It splashed on the lower half of my face, the clear steam trickling slowly and steadily. I tasted it involuntarily and understood and opened my mouth. It drummed down as I gasped. I did try to catch it, as much as I could, and because Darren poured slowly I caught probably half of it. He didn’t want to crouch down and get close to me, but he gave me the water any way.
“There.” He said softly. “Water for the dirty human space-whore.”
When the cup was empty he stopped pouring. The water had flooded the tissue of my mouth, rehydrating the dry membranes. Until I had it and was swallowing it, I had had no idea how much I had wanted it. It was kind. The water in my gasping mouth was kind.
Darren smiled. It was a false smile, but not a cruel smile. It was the kind of polite smile that a stranger gives you when you are forced to meet eyes. He put it on his face deliberately as he looked down on me and his smile resembled acknowledgement. It was like the kindness of the water. I almost moaned it was such a relief to have him relent from the cruelty.
“Thank you.” I said. “Thank you, Sir, Darren.
His gaze traveled down the length of my nude battered body and the smile left. The crease of disgust came back.
“Now I suppose you want me to give you some food, I suppose.” he said. Belligerence had crept into his voice. The instant of mercy was brief.
“No.” I said. “No, please. It’s okay.” The truth was too, that I doubt I could have eaten the food. That was one thing my body did not want. The pain had exhausted me so much that I was too weary to want to eat.
He sounded tired. “You don’t deserve to eat.” He said. “You aren’t worth feeding. If I feed you, it’ll because you earned it. You haven’t earned it yet.”
“Yes, Sir.” I agreed with him.
“You think you deserve it? You think food is nothing, you got the right, a few slices of roast chenie-bird, with stuffing and gravy and ripe round hebbiens covered in butter, that’s your right, that’s nothing?”
I didn’t understand at all. I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t tell what answer he was looking for or what he wanted.
But Darren didn’t get angry at my silence. He sat back down on his bunk and his voice was absent and thick with pain. “Yeah, a good dinner, food in your belly, you think you deserve that, I should give it to you? You can have it free?”
I didn’t understand what he was talking about. I just listened. When he went on, his words had wandered even farther away. I got the impression that he wasn’t only talking to me, but talking out loud in spite of me although the words were shaped and directed at me.
“I used to have a sister – once.” Darren told me. “She was eight and I was twelve. One day there just wasn’t anything left to eat. No food at all.” His eyes were black and blank. He tilted his head sideways. He had an earring and it dangled above his collar. “She was starving to death and she got a pot belly. Isn’t that weird? She was dying of hunger and she got fat. But her ribs got all visible and her arms and legs were bony before she died.“
His eyes came back into focus again and he looked at me. “She didn’t get any food. How can you possibly think that you deserve to get any?” He asked. He didn’t wait for me to answer his question. Instead he reached down and picked up the top blanket that was bunched at the foot of his bunk. He tossed this down on top of me. It draped over me from the ribs to my feet.
“Don’t you dare ask me for mercy. You don’t deserve anything from me at all.” Said Darren. “From now until you die, you’re nothing more than a cunt. Yeah, all you are is filthy hole for me to fuck, you shit dribbling sewer of a space –whore.”
He laid himself down on his bunk with his back to me and composed himself for sleep.
The End of Part 7
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