Blade (Dark Monster Fantasy Book 3)

by Cari Silverwood

  “You have a very rude sword.”

  “I do.” Melted, dunked in acid, and thrown over the side, Smorg.

  Oooo. I shiver with anticipation.

  “I think I like it. I like straight-forwardness.” She nodded.

  Like solving her sex goddess problem by having a random cyborg fuck her?

  “Very well. My way then. I do this my way.” He looked about the rooftop for somewhere fitting for his first sexual experience. “Come with me.”

  Away from the plasglass for starters.

  He always preferred to do whatever he did in darkness. In the dark, dirty deeds became dirtier, plus it was harder to be prosecuted unless night vision was involved.

  From where his hand touched her wrist, a dark, insidious warmth spread.

  “Fuck,” she whispered. “Happening again. Coming more often.”

  He smiled. For the first time, ever, he felt some ownership of his cock, understood the possible joys of inserting it into a female.

  A large mass of shoppers seemed to have congealed directly below. Her effect couldn’t possibly reach that far, could it? He focused down enough to see the hair strands on their heads, yet still wasn’t sure. Probably a coincidence.

  “Come.”

  Beneath an awning once erected to screen some unknown people from the sun, amid an unexpected jungle of neglected plants, he found an area of synthetic grass. Though covered with dust and dried leaves, it was clean. He laid her down on the soft coolness, with the stars popping out above against the inky sky.

  How romantic some might find this setting – if it not for the buzz of cabs overhead and the insurance ad cube that’d returned to hover. If the thing had cameras, they might feature on someone’s private porno.

  He crouched and leaned over her, where she lay on her back already panting. He’d not done a thing, except tow her here and have her lie down. Was there an inherent arousal factor in a male being poised above a girl?

  Interesting. He learned fast and this was the one piece of the universe of experience he’d not sampled in his three hundred plus years – sex.

  She transformed again, changed, whatever it was that happened to her.

  With every beat of her heart and squirm of body the dust about them shuddered and jumped into the air. Leaves on the surrounding plants whispered as they brushed at each other, and a faint tang of citrus blossomed.

  Thorn wasn’t exactly clothed. She’d shrugged off her coat at his prompting and dropped it to the side. She’d left on her boots but apart from those all she wore was this disintegrating white uniform. Present tense with the disintegrating. Threads pulled themselves apart as he watched. Psionics? He decided he liked psionics.

  “Laid out like this under me, you look like a goddess of sex,” he murmured, allowing a throaty undertone to creep in.

  “I thought...you didn’t know how to seduce.” Her voice was husky, hesitant. Her hips wriggled and her thighs squeezed together, making the V where her cunt hid from view seem fascinating.

  When he laid his cyborg hand over her throat and caressed her there, she did even more of the wriggling and squeezing. Noted, he thought. Lots of notes were going to be made.

  He would get her to spread herself there, soon. Or do it himself. On the checklist.

  “Seducing...it’s coming to me.” Definitely. She didn’t seem to mind him taking his time. Since he’d never had the opportunity to examine a woman under him, a living breathing woman who wanted him to fuck her, he was sure a few more seconds of study were warranted.

  With his mastery of torture, he could see this, sex, being a natural addition to his skill sets, and he never did anything by halves. Never, ever.

  Her plump lips alone fascinated him, when they’d moved as she spoke, or when her small tongue swept out and slipped across, wetting the seam, before slipping away again. The dust of tiny hairs on her cheeks, a little more than humans, less than a feline. The fine lines of her white eyebrows. The flutter of her eyelashes.

  “You are beautiful,” he said quietly, surprising even himself. “Also, this uniform is falling apart.”

  “Mmm.” She undulated, deliberately drawing him in. Whatever attraction she generated to males, in this moment she was in thrall as much as he.

  The elegance of her neck, of her breasts. When she breathed, cloth shifted and peekaboo’d the edges of her areola. No wonder males made such fools of themselves.

  When Zarblu had mounted his sacrifices on the table, he’d often watched, and desired to penetrate them, to do...incalculable and often undefined things. He’d lusted in a very frustrating way.

  He bent his head and licked her breast tips, suckled for a few moments, curious the shivers and gasps he elicited.

  Slowly, snapping threads, he wormed his forefinger beneath a particularly damaged part over her abdomen where her navel and belly skin showed. He began to tear upward. The uniform broke apart as if made of feathers. Torn filaments wormed into the air then were blown away.

  Such raw beauty under his hands.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” she whispered.

  “Of course.”

  He didn’t, not exactly, not precisely, not like he knew the levels of pain an andurian could endure before he died.

  Not like he knew how long an ellurian could survive underwater.

  He’d learn.

  When he tortured, he submersed himself in his victim. Love though...fucking someone was new to him. The theory was to make them happy, to make Thorn desire, to make her wet and beg for the entry of his cock.

  And he did know anatomy back to front, and inside out.

  Especially the inside out part.

  Sound was zeroing in again, shrinking down to only this. It muffled anything but the sounds Thorn made.

  Blood susurrated, thudded, swamping him. Blood and woman. Flesh and fucking. The reality of becoming one with a female, of burying a part of himself in her.

  Except he couldn’t quite do that.

  He leaned over her and kissed her bared nipples, one then the other, making paths with tongue and teeth.

  Thorn breathed harder, rougher, and she grasped his forearm. “More.”

  The coat would cover her torso if buttoned. She would get by even if naked above the mid-thigh level. He could do what he liked.

  “Your wish is my command.” Violence beckoned. Purring harshly, a noise he’d not made since forever, he ripped apart the uniform, creating a ragged tear from navel to neck.

  Then he ripped it some more until only shreds hung from her body.

  His last act of life – fucking a s’kar girl who begged him to, and maybe starring in a porno.

  She writhed under him like a whore from a synth-porn, squeaked as he bit, opened her legs for his mouth when he reached there and tried to pull his head closer. He resisted. Her tail lashed in annoyance.

  “My way.”

  Though frowning, she released him then flopped back her head.

  He pulled apart her thighs and held her legs while he explored this lush valley of Thorn – her cunt and clit, using teeth and tongue in ways he’d never thought he’d get a chance to do.

  When she appeared close to coming, he flipped her over and pressed her to the grass while he experimented with several more combinations of fingers and tongue.

  She was so delightfully vulnerable, exuding sexuality, her cunt flooding with wetness as she wriggled – enough that it dripped from her and puddled under her ass and tail.

  This was as spellbinding as a torture session.

  He paused to admire how his three fingers were stuck in her cunt quite deeply in spite of her feeble and ineffective protests.

  “I didn’t quite say to do that...” Thorn gulped, clearly struggling to regain breath and sanity.

  “My way,” he reminded her. “Besides, you asked me.” He shoved his fingers deeper, then out and in a few times, hearing the squelch as her walls yielded to his thrusts.

  Her whimper was very unconvincing, an
d he bit back a laugh.

  Better than fucking torture. Better.

  “More?” he inquired, in a mild voice. “Hmm?”

  “You are a tease, mister cyborg. More? Yes. I think...” She swallowed. “...more.”

  He needed to stop her thinking.

  Led angled up her lower body using a hold on her tail then burrowed his head between her spread legs. He bit around her clitoris and elsewhere, consuming her with his tongue – licking, lapping, toggling her clit, and sucking. She liked the sucking, from her choked sobs. The plump little button was the key to her joy and he couldn’t help wondering how many times he could make her come, if he tried.

  There was a time limit however. He had to stop pleasuring her this way.

  “Your cock. Please. That.”

  To stop her cycle she needed him to fuck her pussy, to insert himself.

  He rose to his knees, freed his synthcock and grasped the shaft, squeezed his fingers in the right combination, gave the mental command, and then he twisted it and the cock detached into his hand.

  With a slick synchronized move he unplugged his fingers from her and instead wormed the fullness of the cock into her mess of a pussy, until it was buried to the hilt. He gave it another shove to be sure and held it in place.

  “Oh!” Thorn arched. “Oh gods! Don’t. Slower. Please...please. Are you?” She twisted her head sideways to look. Sweat dribbled into her eye. Her mouth opened wider as she took in where he kneeled.

  “Never said I’d be connected to my cock.”

  “Wait. You shouldn’t. It mightn’t –”

  “If it was going to at all, it will. No reason it won’t. I’m male and this is my cock stuck up inside you as far as I can thrust it.”

  “I don’t know... I don’t –”

  “Shush.” Then he pinned her in place with a knee over her tail, fucking her well and deep with his series 6.4 sxsynthcock while he played with her engorged clit, and he watched her react.

  Watching... Coaxing... Forcing more from her. Making her fall into pieces. No longer the composed and perfect s’kar officer.

  Words left her, instead she voiced a magnificent and never-ending string of incoherent curses, groans, and grunts. He grinned, loving it all. Those noises...

  When she came, clawing at the synthetic grass, her tail curling and looping, he made sure to save the vid he’d recorded through his cybernetic eye. Her cries as she orgasmed for a full ten point two seconds left him with an evil grin plastered to his face.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” She buried her head in her arm, her breathing uncontrolled, unhinged, un-everything that might be termed ladylike.

  He decided making a girl go all unladylike, making her gush and whimper, squeal and wriggle, while he forced a huge dick or anything up inside her, was close to the pinnacle of thrills out of all his fucked-up thrills.

  My, he could get used to this.

  Especially now he had a baseline to beat. Ten point two. One orgasm. If time wasn’t of importance, Ledderik was certain he could have made her have more.

  He ran his finger down her sweaty quivering spine with the trail of fine, white hair, all the way to between the swells of her ass cheeks and down to her still-stuffed cunt. He extracted the cock from her, marveling at how it resisted the pull, at how she’d made it sticky and dripping. He wedged his finger inside her to the timing of a few caught breaths from the exhausted Thorn.

  How she squirmed... The pulse of her cunt squashing onto him.

  Then he pulled it out and tasted her, ran that finger onto his tongue and sucked it all off.

  This was how a female tasted when she’d orgasmed under him.

  He liked it. A lot.

  Maybe LoL didn’t have all the fun copyrighted after all.

  Ledderik retrieved the bear from her coat and proceeded to feel it for hidden parts, to eye it for anything suspicious.

  Nothing.

  He tucked it back into the coat and sat down beside her again, waiting.

  Thorn rolled over, and he took her hand.

  Such intricate things, hands. Hers was especially fascinating. Soft. He brought it to his mouth and kissed the back. Thorn grumbled at him, one eye opening.

  He didn’t understand himself, for once, for the first time in his long life.

  It was as if something was missing.

  The stars were fully out above though pale against the shine of the city. He lay back on his arms and watched her rise shakily and rearrange her clothes, pulling the destroyed white uniform into place. She donned her red coat and buttoned it down the front until the disaster he’d made of her was hidden.

  Her face was flushed. Her white hair still mussed. Originally it might’ve passed for some perfect piece of sculpture. He’d fix it for her if she asked but if she didn’t notice, he’d let her walk away like that.

  What could possibly surpass this night?

  A cock he’d owned as truly his? To do things with it to Thorn, this s’kar female who somehow reached into his guts and enticed him like no other woman had ever – that would beat this night.

  Except he had no time, no time at all, he’d signed away his real life and it was due, now.

  Tonight.

  Chapter 5

  Thorn straightened her uniform, despairing at the state it was in but unwilling to show her annoyance to the cyborg.

  She hadn’t quite expected what he’d done. A quick efficient joining of bodies would be appropriate for a cyborg who seemed disinterested in sex.

  Fuck though.

  What to make of that? Her legs were still trembling.

  The coat’s edge barely covered where the white uniform turned into shreds that clung together by the grace of whatever gods her tailor prayed to. The synthcock he’d stuck into her lay still detached by his side on the moonlight-grayed grass. Though that floating ad cube came back every so often and flickered text over them both as well as the grass.

  The synthcock shone, and a glistening strand of something she didn’t want to own up to appeared to run from it to nearby grass blade.

  She jerked down the coat sleeves. “I thank you, cyborg, for what you did.” And she prayed it’d worked. To any god anyone might call up.

  He grinned, maliciously, she decided.

  “A very formal thank you.”

  What else would it be? Before she could answer a black-and-white police flyer arrived above and spun on its stubby wings, hovering and bathing them in the glare of police lights.

  If they’d arrived only a few minutes earlier... She chilled at the thought.

  “Remain still. Do not move! State your business!”

  Brilliant. She complained and they painted her a criminal. Thorn held up her wrist to let them scan her.

  “I’ll handle this. We’ll be free to go in a minute.”

  I’m s’kar co-captain, Thorn, and I reported several homicides and assaults. She sent them the code for those calls. This cyborg assisted me.

  The lights dimmed to a less blinding level and the cop flyercar settled in to land, engines throttling down. The protruding fins, as always, reminded her of a predator fish.

  Within a short time it lifted off again. *We have this. Thank you for your reports. Officers will be in contact later this night to question you. If you could prepare a report asap and send it on.*

  I will. She nodded, despite the officers remaining inside the flyer.

  It rose higher, turned and zoomed overhead, disappearing into the night within seconds.

  In pursuit of her attackers, she hoped, and presumably to the museum.

  The cyborg hadn’t even stood. That irked her for some reason. She really needed to get this back onto a normal footing. He wasn’t in her world and she wasn’t in his, no matter how sort of grateful she should be.

  Don’t trust him. Her instincts screamed that. It wasn’t the way he killed, it was how he’d handled her – though whatever was happening to her might have somehow caused that?

  This had to be an illn
ess.

  See a doctor after the naming ceremony, priority one.

  “You can leave...Rik.”

  “It’s Ledderik. You can call me Led if you wish to.”

  “I don’t see you as a Led.”

  He shrugged and didn’t get up.

  The checkpoint was two buildings over. With a bit of hurrying she’d make it to her temporary quarters, get washed and changed, write up the report for the cops, and be at the assembly point for the naming at the stadium with many spokmins to spare.

  Then she strode away and tried not to dwell on what might happen if her coat unbuttoned or a wind blew it aside.

  She held up her hand, showing the cyborg the back of it in a casual farewell. “Goodbye. Rik.”

  “Farewell.”

  A sedate goodbye, even though she’d tried to poke at him with that Rik.

  “I’m going to LoL tonight. The contract is signed.”

  She looked back. “Oh.” Mistake.

  Thorn fidgeted. How to answer that?

  She was sure he’d not moved at all, that he was memorizing her in some way, or her ass. If the cyborg was going to live in a virtual world, she’d never see him again. Except perhaps by a million to one chance as a loaner, with someone else inhabiting his body.

  Not the same, of course.

  Relief came with that fact as well as sadness. She was sad for a man she barely knew. LoL was the last resort of the world weary and the stupid. She doubted he was stupid.

  Was it possible to be sad and angry at him? Yes.

  As she turned on her boot heel and walked away, again, she heard him say softly, “I enjoyed it all, greatly.” This time she wasn’t stopping.

  The rest of this day, or night, would have to be exceptional. She’d had murders, random sex with a cyborg, and the most inexplicable things happen to her, and had surely used up her bad luck for millennia.

  Chapter 6

  As he shoved through the door into the LoL office, Ledderik found himself running through the recent events, yet again. He’d only just made the deadline, though Tewel didn’t appear too fazed.

  With this being the façade of LoL, little of the nuts and bolts were visible. Out back, through the double glass doors would be the lines of beds where bodies were drained of personalities and memories, and the matching more ornate rooms and private beds where people took out loaners. Those doors showed a looping ad for virtworlds – battles and castles, space stations, forests with farms, and dragons.