by Jake Stone
“Why?” I ask.
“Atia.”
“Atia? The robot?”
“She’s the greatest of all Purifiers,” Zorel answers. “The only one of us who ever passed the trials of the Battle Saints.”
“Battle Saints?”
“The greatest warriors in the galaxy,” she explains. “Only soldiers who prove themselves above and beyond are awarded with the Kiss of Steel, an invitation given by the highest ranking official on a planet.”
“Wow,” I say, “sounds pretty prestigious. So what happened?”
“She was sent back.”
“Why?”
Zorel hesitates, a flash of concern streaking her amazing features. I can feel the regret radiating off her in waves. Did she cross a line, some level of confidence that she wasn’t supposed to break? Whatever the case, her reply is simple: “People make decisions that they can never come back from, Xander. And that’s why we’re here.”
The response is cryptic, but I don’t press the issue.
“Where to now?” I ask.
“I’ve decided that I have a surprise for you,” she says excitedly.
“What surprise?”
“Come. You’ll find out.”
I follow her as she leads me down a dark street, where I feel as if I’m in an abandoned sector. There are no buildings here, no people, only huts made of adobe, domiciles of some kind, I guess. A wind blows from my left, dragging pieces of trash across the street and my sense of security quickly diminishes.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“A vacant sector. The church had us clear it out a couple of months ago when tenants started to complain about ghosts.”
“Ghosts?”
“Actually, it was more like demonic possession,” she concedes with the roll of her eyes.
I look at her and frown, my chest tightening in fear. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “We never found anything. Well…except for the mutilated bodies.”
Ah shit…
She leads me to a small home with no windows, only a single door in the front. She blasts the lock with a tiny bolt and the door swings open.
“Welcome home,” she says, waving out an arm for me to enter.
Inside, it’s dark and quiet. I feel like a burglar tiptoeing into a house that I’m about to rob. I make it only a couple of steps before I bump into something.
“Ow, I can’t see shit,” I whisper.
“Sorry.” It takes Zorel a second to build a charge in her hand, and she lights a hanging metal bowl filled with incense.
Soft, warm light casts against her face, accentuating the high cheekbones sitting beneath her captivating grey eyes. She looks around the room, a den of some kind, her gaze settling on the doorway leading into what could only be a bedroom.
“Come,” she says, her hand reaching for mine.
“Where to?” I ask.
“You must be tired.” A playful grin spreads across her lips. “You need rest.”
I swallow as I take her hand, my heart thumping in my chest. What’s going on here? What’s she doing?
The room is dark, but she finds another lamp, igniting it with a stretch of lighting that erupts from her fingertips. The metal bowl lights on fire, and the room is quickly filled with the scent of burning fruit, spiced with herb. It’s intoxicating, heady, and I’m suddenly relaxed.
Our path narrows by the bed, and I can feel the thickness of her body next to mine. At around five-foot-seven, she’s only a couple of inches shorter than me. But I like her size. She’s a solid woman, strong and statuesque.
She turns around to face me, the bed at my back, her hands rising to my shoulders, then down to my chest, massaging my muscles through the fabric of my sweatshirt. Her eyes never veer from mine, even as her hands slip beneath my shirt, lifting it over my head, leaving me half-naked.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She arches a brow at my body, her hands caressing greedily along my skin. “Now, now,” she says, her voice husky and full of lust. “I’ve helped you, so now you must help me.”
I watch as she takes a step back, her fingers undoing the knot of her cloak. It falls to the floor, pooling around her feet, revealing the soldier underneath. Even through the plated armor of her chest, I can see the curves of her well-formed frame and large breasts.
“Zorel, are you sure about this?”
She rests a finger to my lips, shutting me up in an instant. “You’ll find that there are not many pleasures on this planet, Xander of Earth. We must make the best of it when we can, while we can.”
I watch as she continues. Piece by piece, she undoes her armor, and soon I’m rewarded with the sight of a white bodysuit that is so tight across her body that it looks like it’s been painted on. Damn, I wish there was more light in here. Already, I can feel my cock begin to harden.
It gets even harder as her hands reach behind her back to unzip what’s left of her uniform. The bodysuit peels down her shoulders and over her chest, allowing me to see her glorious tits bouncing out of her top. Holy shit. But it isn’t until she tugs the suit down past her hips, showing off her perfectly trimmed pussy that I actually feel like my heads going to explode.
Her skin is rich with a deep tan, the kind that super models get after lying under a tropical sun for a week’s vacation. It makes her body pop with youth and vibrancy, like a powerful goddess.
“You like what you see?” she asks.
“Fuck yeah, I do.” The words escape my lips before I can even think.
“Good,” she says, her voice growing dark and husky. She walks toward me, falling into my grasp, and I feel her warm, taught skin again mine. My hands fall to her ass, squeezing it tightly. Fuck, I want her.
Gripping my wrists, she guides my hands to her breasts, a soft gasp leaving her mouth as I touch her nipples. I smell the earthy scent of sweat along her body. No perfume. No musky oil. Just her and it fucking turns me on.
She presses her lips against mine, sinking her long tongue into my mouth. She’s aggressive, lustful and my greed suddenly takes over like a devil.
My hands tighten around her ass again, squeezing those muscular cheeks, appreciating them for the marvels that they are. She lets out a tiny moan into my mouth, and my cock gets even harder.
Overcome by her lust, she shoves me back onto the bed, quickly undoing my pants and yanking them off. My cock—rock hard by now—springs up like a jack in the box. Her mouth makes a soundless o as she stares at it, impressed. “Not bad.” She grips the base of my cock and begins to jerk me off.
The sensation is crazy. I throw my head back, and close my eyes, sinking into the wonderful pleasure that’s streaking through me.
“You’re throbbing,” she says, both amazed and pleased by my dick.
I feel the heat of her mouth as it lowers over the head of my cock, the softness of her tongue licking the underside of my shaft.
After a couple of tugs, she takes the plunge, forcing the length of my cock down her throat, where she leaves it, letting it rest, while she begins to play with her clit.
Unable to control myself, I grip the back of her head, my fingers sinking into her blond hair as she lets me fuck her throat. My movement is slow but deep. She lets herself go as if relieved that she doesn’t have to force it down by herself.
Tears begin streaming down her face, as she rubs her clit faster. But it’s not enough. She climbs onto the bed and turns around, dropping her wet pussy onto my mouth.
Her lips spread part as I sink my ready tongue deep into her cunt, allowing me to taste the salty goodness of her juices. I fucking love it.
I lick her clit, and she moans, her voice vibrating against my cock. The sound of it motivates me to work harder. I move my tongue faster, from side to side, up and down, left and right, using every combination I can come up with. It works. She lets out another moan, her mouth frozen over the head of my cock.
My left-hand rises to her l
eft cheek, pulling it apart as I dip my fingers into her pussy, pressing down on her g-spot. I lick her clit as fast as I can, causing her to stop and concentrate. She breathes as she claws my thighs. And, for a moment, I worry that she’s going to fry me with her power. But I keep going because I’m a horny idiot.
When she finally orgasms, her entire body shudders. Her head bows forward, and a deep breath fills her lungs. It’s music to my ego.
“Fuck, I needed that,” she whispers.
“I can tell,” I reply.
She glances over her shoulder at me like the cheshire cat, her eyes narrowed with mischief. “Now it’s your turn,” she says.
Fuck yea…
Before I know it, she’s sucking my dick again, harder and faster. She’s on a mission. I eat her pussy in response. It’s just too good. And, after a while, I feel myself verging on coming.
“Oh shit,” I groan.
Her mouth moves faster, her hand tightening. But just as I expect her to pull away, she doesn’t. She keeps going, intent on sucking me till I come.
I shut my eyes and clench my hands, my legs and feet tightening in the process. I come so hard that I feel as if my entire stomach is going to slip out. Wave after wave, hot juices pour out of me, shooting into the back of her throat, where she lets it pool in her mouth.
Once I’m done, I linger for a moment, my hands sunk into her hair, my breath short and shallow. As I come to, my senses return, and I wiggle out from under her, worried if she’s okay.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
She stares at me through the soft lighting of the room, inspecting me through eyes that give no clue to her thoughts. She holds my gaze, takes a profound swallow and grins.
Wow…
“Damn, you were loaded,” she says, staring down at my cock. She gives it a couple of more strokes, her mouth around my head, making sure she got it all out of me.
I shiver from the sensation.
“Sorry,” I say, embarrassed by how much I came.
“For what?” she asks. “You should be proud.”
I laugh at the notion. “Never thought of it that way.”
“Well, now you should.” She sits on the bed, cross-legged to meet my gaze. She’s glorious in her nakedness. Her hands fall on my thighs as she looks at me. “What’s the matter?” she asks.
To be honest, I’m not sure. I just got a blow job from one of the hottest, most powerful women I’ve ever met. But because of it, I’m suddenly allowed to think, unclouded by the dick in my pants. Sitting there, I begin to think of Rachel again. And for some strange reason, I feel as if I’ve betrayed her, and the only thing I want to do is speak to her, so that I can explain what I’m feeling. Weird. “The slave auction…it’s in a week?”
“That’s what Borga said,” she says, taking the cue that playtime’s over.
Under the glare of the lamp, I watch as she begins to dress, catching glimpses of her flawless ass and perky tits. “But don’t worry, I’ll be there.”
“What do you mean, don’t worry? Are you saying that I can’t go?”
“Punishment is handed out by the Purifiers,” she says. “You’re not even a citizen. Besides, it’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t care. I’m going.”
She looks at me. “You’re too cute to die, Xander. Just live your life and be happy, like me.”
“I can’t,” I say. “You have to help me. I don’t have anyone else.”
She sighs. “The only way you can go out with the Purifiers is if you become a Purifier.”
“And how do I do that?”
“You don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll get killed, sexy,” she pinches my nose. “And I can’t let that happen to my new boy-toy, especially over a girl.”
“She’s not just a girl,” I say.
Zorel pauses after she fits on her armor, her eyes still as she watches me. I know that look. It’s one of pity. But at this point, I’ll take it.
“Help me,” I ask. “Please.”
The corner of her lips twists to the side, a half pout that makes her look adorable. “Fine,” she finally says with a huff. “You want to become a Purifier? There’s only one way.”
“And how’s that?”
“Every week, the Palace guard and Purifiers take in new recruits. If you really want this, be outside the palace in the morning.”
“I’m there.”
“You don’t understand,” Zorel whispers as she frames my face in her hand. The worry I see in her eyes gives me pause. “Most of those who enlist in our ranks don't make it.”
"You mean they fail?"
"No," she says. "They die."
Chapter Ten
Under the first light of the sun, the Palace appears grand with its high walls and raised battlements, a truly majestic view in this sad, sad world.
Outside, a group of palace guards dressed in red and gold armor lounge around a recruitment table where a long line of men and women are waiting to be seen.
The recruits are a mixed bunch. Everything from short young women to tall old men. They stand in tattered clothes with downcast faces, their skinny arms crossed against starving bellies as they wait to be seen. Makes sense. Living on a crap-hole planet like this, who wouldn’t want to have a cushy position inside the palace, right?
But the guards ignore them. They could care less about the stinking poor bastards. Instead, they talk and laugh as they play cards, seeming more concerned with winning a card game than helping out the less unfortunate.
“What do you want?” one of the palace guards asks as he notices me standing before the table. His gaze never lifts from his cards.
“Is this where I enlist?” I ask.
“Depends,” he answers.
“On what?” I ask.
He looks up from his cards, annoyed. “On who you want to join.”
“I want to join the Purifiers,” I say.
He snorts. “And why would you want to do something as stupid as that?” he asks, turning his attention back to his cards. “You’ll die with those worthless bastards. You should be wanting to get in line with these fine folk,” he says mockingly at the line of recruits. “They’ve got the right idea. Join the palace guard. Receive honor. Earn glory. And enjoy a home where you don’t have to piss in the street every time you get drunk.”
The guards burst out laughing, unconcerned for the poor recruits who look away in shame.
“I don’t care about that,” I say. “I just want to kill slavers.”
“Slavers,” he says with a snort. “Will you look at him. He’s dreaming about killing slavers. What’s next, killing dragons?”
The guards chuckle as they study their cards.
“Alright then,” he finally says, “get in line and you’ll be catered to soon enough.”
“Where?” I ask, looking around in confusion. There’s no other line, no other people, only empty space.
The guard ignores me. His concentration is on the game. He checks his cards, slams one on the table, then gloats over his opponent as he realizes that he’s just won. “Ha! Got ya!”
The table erupts with laughter again, while the young guard who’s just lost, hangs his head in defeat, vowing to cut the other guard’s balls off in a whisper.
I wait until it quiets again before I continue. “Excuse me,” I say. “But uh—”
“Ah shit, are you still here?” he asks. “I thought I told you to get in line.”
“I would,” I say in frustration. “But where the fuck is it?”
The man looks up at me. My language has offended him. His eyes narrow. “What did you say to me?”
“I said, where is it? You haven’t told me yet.”
His amusement withers. He doesn’t like to be challenged, especially in front of his guards. Rising from his seat, he picks up his spear and marches toward me, the tip of his blade falling threateningly in my direction. I hold my ground.
“You say that
you want to join the Purifiers, eh?” he says. “Well Purifiers are rats. They scour the desert for bugs. Are you a rat?”
“No,” I say. “Are you?”
His jaw clenches, his grip tightens around his spear, and the laughter from the table suddenly dies. The ridicule is humiliating to him, and I watch as his skin begins to redden. He’s about to break. Still, I hold my ground.
“What’d you say to me?” he sneers, leaning into my face.
“You heard me,” I reply, unable to draw myself back. This has always been my problem, the Achilles heel in my personality. Once someone pushes me, I push back—hard. But I need to do something. I can’t just lay back and let him fuck with me.
I see the fury in his eyes, and I know I’m only seconds away from getting skewered. But I ain’t budging.
The guard is about to speak again, when I hear a voice in the background, freezing him in place.
“Leave him alone, Lexar.”
I look to my left to find two female Purifiers sitting on the edge of a low brick wall. The first is a striking red-head with vibrant green eyes eating some type of pink fruit. While the other, a silent young brunette with a sniper rifle across her lap, stares at me in suspicion through purple sloe eyes.
“Is this what the Purifiers have come to, Petronelous?” Lexar yells out to the redhead, laughing. “Letting little rats like him into your fabled ranks? My, how low the Purifiers has sunk since Atia took over.”
The redhead jumps down from the wall, her face hard like stone. Two swords are crossed along her back, each handle rising above each shoulder. Tossing the pink fruit to the side, she strides toward us with an air of authority, giving me a glimpse of her fantastic body. Five-nine. Voluptuous curves. Long legs; all muscle. She’s an absolute dream.
“We Purifiers take only the strong,” Petronelous declares. “Which is why we never took you.”
He scowls at the insult, but does nothing. “I’ll remember that when we distribute water rations to you and your recruits,” he says. “Maybe a cup less a day?”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you and your ilk,” Petronelous replies.
“Very well,” Lexar says harshly, trying to save face. “Take the rat and be gone with you.”
