by Loki Renard
“Like what?”
“Like trying to scam me again, or trying to get away. These halls are tight.”
They really are. Even I find them a big claustrophobia-inducing. Crash’s big arms brush the sides with every step he takes. They can get a lot tighter though. There are places in this structure where the walls can clamp in on you and crush you like a bug. I don’t know if they’re still active after we lost a cousin or two, but at one time every Pyle carried a big metal bar to prop the walls open if the worst was to happen.
I don’t worry about that, because I know this path perfectly well. I’ve rehearsed this very thing hundreds of times. This is my failsafe, in case someone tries to force me to take them into the fortress.
“You should turn back,” I say, stopping. “The chip isn’t what you think it is. It will only bring you pain.”
“The one who is going to feel pain is you if you don’t deliver me what you promised,” he snarls behind me.
Okay. I gave him a chance. Lots of chances, actually. And he wants to be an asshole about this, so…
I step over the trigger plate. It looks like a normal part of the floor. You wouldn’t know it was there—unless you knew it was there. He steps on it behind me. I expect to hear a scream. Or at least a shout. There’s nothing besides a clang. And then he’s gone. Down the chute.
And that takes care of that.
The trap plate swings back up into position and I stand there, looking down at the hole that isn’t there anymore.
I thought I’d be more pleased about having gotten rid of him. I didn’t think I’d feel a little bit sad, and a lot guilty. Oh, well. Life is hard. I have money to make.
I leave the observatory and start making my way back home. I start off at a pretty good clip. It’s handy that he fixed my ankle before he died. I wouldn’t be able to run away nearly as fast as I can now.
And there’s the guilt again, clawing at my insides, making my stomach twist.
I remind myself that he was an asshole. He beat me. Fucked me. Used me. He threatened me with worse if I didn’t give him what he wanted.
But his first impulse was to take care of me. And if I hadn’t fucked him over, he probably would have paid me and not done any of the rest of that stuff. Shit. Am I the bad guy right now?
I stop. Think about it. It dawns on me very unpleasantly that I might just have led a decent man, if not necessarily a good one, to his death. Maybe I can go back and find a way to let him out. I mean, not let him catch me again, but at least save him from whatever Grampa Pyle decided people like him deserved. There’s a chance that the fall didn’t kill him.
Turning around is stupid. I am still naked in the middle, from my navel to my knees. I can feel the breeze on my ass, and my bare hips are slapped by bushes, branches, and leaves that brush past me as I rush through the undergrowth a little faster than I might be expected to given I wanted him dead twenty minutes ago.
I make a deal with myself to quiet the screaming voice that tells me I should be running as far away from him as possible, not going back to save him. I’m going to get him out, then get the hell out of there. Then we’ll be even. I can let him go back to wherever the hell he came from, and he can let me go.
My grandfather had a room where he stored most of the schematics for this place. I guess I’ll go there and try to work out precisely where that chute leads. I used to know, but I can’t quite remember anymore. Still, I’ll see if I can fix what I just fucked up.
I head up into the observatory, instead of down into the basement. His office is still up there. It’s a bit of a mess, and the schematics are in a drawer that is behind an old bicycle, something called a stair master, and a bag of plastic doll parts. We’ve preserved a lot from the old world. Most of it isn’t valuable. Some of it, like the chip, is priceless.
Pulling the schematics out, I start to go through them. Each of the maps of the place covers a floor, so it’s complicated to work out the inter-floor specifics of where the traps lead. I really never thought I would ever try to get someone out of that chute.
For long minutes I pore over the papers, trying to work out what they mean. I’m pretty sure the red jagged ones are fire traps. They’ve mostly gone out over the years. The poison darts are probably a bit off as well. In fact, most of the deadly snares and decoys are probably now more likely to maim or annoy than outright kill. But there’s still more than enough left behind to make this observatory a temple of doom. Shit. What if I killed him? Or what if he’s dying right now. What if he’s bleeding out, gasping for air? What if he’s lying with broken limbs and screaming for mercy, but I can’t hear him because there are dozens of layers of reinforced concrete between him and me?
“Fuck, oh fuck,” I swear to myself. “Oh, fuck, please…”
I don’t know who I’m begging. I don’t know what I’m begging for. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I should never have tried this in the first place. It was a desperate attempt to get some money. I thought I could get away with it. I never planned to kill anyone. I never planned to get my ass beat and my pussy fucked so hard it still aches.
The thought of him inside me makes my inner walls clench.
“You are a very naughty girl.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I hear the voice I very much did not want to hear again. Except I did. I turn around slowly, to see him standing behind me. His thick arms are crossed over his chest. His clothing has been scraped and ripped, and there’s more than one or two bruises and grazes on his silvery skin.
But he’s okay. He’s alive. I breathe a deep sigh of relief.
“So,” he says, blocking the doorway. “You tried to kill me.”
Outrage flows through me. Ironic, or is it hypocritical? Whatever it is, of course I tried to kill him. But being accused of it doesn’t feel very nice.
“I was trying to rescue you, idiot. See these? These are maps. I was trying to work out where you were. So you’re welcome.”
There’s no way he knows I led him down that passage on purpose. I have plausible deniability on my side and I intend to keep it.
“You’re lying to me. Again. You lie a lot, Pyxel.” It’s not an accusation. He’s just laying out the facts as he sees them. And as they are. I have lied to him over and over again. But, again, I feel the hot flash of outrage running through me. How dare he accuse me of what I am doing to my face?
“I saw you take that extra-long pace. I saw you turn around to see what happened even before anything happened. You knew. You tried to kill me.”
He’s not nearly as pissed off as I would be if someone tried to kill me.
“Do you know what this means?”
“No.” I back up against the desk. He hasn’t even moved, and yet he seems to be getting larger and closer by the minute. His presence is growing, intimidating me into a curled up little version of myself even as I stand there, keeping my chin up in defiance.
“It means your life is forfeit.”
“You’re going to kill me?”
“No. But I am going to take your life.” He takes a step toward me, closing the distance. “You are mine now, Pyxel. Your life is mine. Just like mine would have been yours if you’d been successful.”
I take a deep breath. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”
“Where is the chip?”
He’s asking me calmly. Like he doesn’t care that I tried to kill him. Like it doesn’t matter what I do, because me, and my machinations are insignificant to him. I’m not sure if I admire him, or if I’m confused by him.
* * *
Crash
She is a silly, spoiled, all too innocent little girl. I know by her standards she is none of those things. I know she has had a hard life. I know she has survived on her own. I know she has endured pain, relative to her feeble frame.
But she doesn’t understand real pain. She doesn’t know the nature of true war. She doesn’t know the pain of defeat—but she will. I am goi
ng to punish her as I have never punished anyone before. I will take her and I will make her pay for her lies, her betrayal, her insolence.
But first, I will get that damn chip.
“I’m not giving you the chip,” she says. It’s maybe the first honest thing she’s ever said to me. “It’s mine, and it’s not really for sale. So I’m sorry I lied to you, but…”
“No,” I interrupt. “There are no buts. There is no negotiation. It’s mine, and I’m taking it. Just the same way I’m taking you.”
She tries to argue, but I’m not listening to her anymore. Her words mean nothing. I didn’t come here to ask. I came here to take.
I snatch her up from the ground where she stands, and throw her face down on the desk. I like her dressed the way she is. I like her holes bared to me. I’ve had her pussy, but she’s been a bad girl and this time I’m going to take her ass. Hard.
* * *
Pyxel
His big hands go to my cheeks, one on each. He spreads my ass open, puts the shameful little core of me on display. This is not going to be good. This is going to hurt.
“Let me go.” It comes out in a whimper. “I tried to save you.”
“After you lied to me and tried to kill me,” he says. I feel something warm and thick and smooth, skin-like pressing right against my anus. It’s his thumb. He’s rubbing it there in firm circles.
“Mr. Crash, please. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you everything.” I try being nice and sweet. It’s too little too late.
“I don’t want to be told anything by you. I want to fuck this hole, and I want to take that chip.”
He hates me now. Of course he does. This is going to be more punishment sex, a hate fuck. He’s going to take my ass because I tried to take his life.
“You still don’t know where the chip is!” I gasp the words as his thumb presses inside my ass, probing into the tight channel. The thick ring of muscle grips his digit, but isn’t any match for it.
I’m afraid. I’m afraid this is going to hurt. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me. More than that, I’m afraid I’m going to like this. Just like I liked it when he whipped me and fucked me. I liked him taking control, even though I hated it.
And I like him now, even though he doesn’t care what I think or what I want, because he was strong and smart enough to find his way out of the labyrinth of death my family constructed just for a man like him. I can’t help but admire his tenacity, even though I’m going to pay the price for it.
His thumb sinks deeper, slides in and then out. My ass is tight, but it submits. Lets him in and then grips him as he pulls away again.
“I don’t know where it is,” he growls. “But you’re going to tell me. Because I’m not going to be done with you until you do.”
He’s a brute.
He will do exactly what he says.
And so, inevitably, will I.
I should tell him now, though I know it won’t make a difference. He’s going to fuck me no matter what. His thumb is pushing in and out of my ass harder and faster and I feel his hot breath as he lowers his head to my bottom, pulls his finger out and laps at my dirty little hole.
There is nothing he won’t do to me. There is no part of me he won’t take.
My pussy is starting to drip. I am aroused and I am more ready than I knew I could be. He laps all the way from my pussy to my ass, he draws the juices of my sex and his own moist tongue against that tight bud and he keeps me in place as he does it, waiting for the thick rod that will soon impale me to my core.
* * *
Crash
She tried to kill me. But I can’t blame her. I spotted that extra stride length when she took that big step to avoid the pressure plate, and I knew it meant something. The moment the ground went out below my feet, I knew I’d made a mistake. I fell. The first few feet the surprise took me, but then I slammed my hands out against the walls, pressed my feet against them too and arrested my fall. Just in time too. There were four-foot spikes waiting for me at the bottom of that channel. It would have been a messy, long, unpleasant death.
I climbed back up, managed to pull the hatch down, got out of there mad as hell. Looking for her. She left a track a mile wide leaving this place. Must have dashed through the bush as fast as those cute legs of hers would have taken her. And then she came around back past me. I could have caught her out there, but I wanted to see what she was up to. Track her back to the chip, maybe.
Instead, she came up here and started looking for a way to get me out. Her distress was hard to read, but it was obvious she felt bad about what she did. Pyxel is in way over her head. A girl caught in the middle of a mess of her own making.
What I’m doing to her now isn’t about revenge, even if she thinks it is. It’s a necessary act of discipline. I want her to remember this long after I’m gone with that chip. If I do nothing else for her, I’ll teach her not to try this again. It will get her killed one day.
She wriggles beneath my tongue, the bud of her anus winking and squirming until I rise up and push the head of my cock right between her cheeks. This isn’t where she wants to be fucked. She has another hole for that. But that’s a greedy little hole and I don’t think it’s possible to fuck her hard enough to punish her there.
Her anus is a different matter. She wasn’t made to be fucked here, but she can be. More lubrication would be nicer for her. More stretching and preparation. But she’s not getting any of that. She’s getting my dick now.
“Crash! I’m sorry!” Her apology comes far too late as the head of my cock disappears into her bottom. I feel the resistance as her ass slowly spreads around the head of my dick. It’s very, very tight, and the whimpering sounds she makes are quite pitiful. I’d feel sorry for her, if she wasn’t a lying, semi-murderous little thing.
There’s a feeling of release as my cock slides through that tight aperture, finds the hot inner sanctum of her ass. I’m in now. Now it’s a matter of getting deeper, faster, harder.
My cock produces a good amount of lubrication of its own accord. With her tight little ass gripping my thick rod, pre-semen is leaking inside her. If not for the earlier dose of anti-seed, she would be falling into sexual shock again. It makes this so much easier. She wails as my cock glides back and forth, punishing her naughty bottom in a way only I can.
* * *
Pyxel
He’s huge. I can only imagine how indecently wide I am gaped. It feels like I am being split in two, and yet he’s somehow still managing to fuck me harder and harder. His weight crushes me against the desk, one of his massive hands on my lower back, my legs spread wide as his rod slides deeper and deeper with every thrust. I am being brutally claimed. He is in my ass, but it feels as though every part of me is being taken, commanded, used. It is making my pussy wetter than it has ever been, even as I start to panic beneath his thrusting bulk.
“You’re going to break me!”
There’s a rough sound of what might be amusement from behind me.
“You need breaking, girl. That’s what’s wrong with you. You’re unbroken. You’re a wild little thing. You need consequences.”
His cock is a consequence. A rough, plunging, stretching consequence that makes me yowl for mercy I know I won’t receive.
“Don’t ever cross me again, Pyxel,” he growls. “No more tricks. No more surprises.”
I expect to hear the ego in his voice, outrage that someone as advanced and powerful as he could nearly meet his death at my hands. But that’s not how he sounds. The anger isn’t there as much as I know it should be.
He palms my skull, his fingers curling around my head, pushing it down to the desk. I can’t move. I’m trapped beneath him as his hips pound against my ass, ravaging me so deep and so thoroughly I feel as though he’s fucking every part of me.
“Tell me where the chip is.”
Yes. Tell us where the chip is, a metallic voice grinds out behind us.
Crash’s cock leaves my ass in a hurry, wrenching from my
bowels in a rough motion that makes me yelp in shock. He keeps me pressed down against the table behind him. I try to see what’s happening, but it’s almost impossible to crane my neck around far enough to catch a glimpse.
I see three heavily armed men or aliens of some kind. They’re speaking through shiny angular helmets that would make it impossible to tell who they are, if I didn’t already know.
I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Crash would actually come. You can get stood up by a buyer, or scammed by one of the less scrupulous races. It takes a long time for aliens to get here, and I need money now. So, I also offered the chip to one or two other buyers. Another party is now behind us. The Genari, I would say, judging by their reflective suits. They shine like Christmas baubles. That same shine can make them fade into the background if it is phase-shifted just a little. They are masters of mirror tech, and they’re willing to pay even more for the chip than Crash is. But they had further to come, and I didn’t know if they were taking my offer seriously.
I guess they were.
I keep my head down. Crash just got a surprise. And he just specifically told me he didn’t want one of those. Ooops.
Being spread open with my anus and sex exposed is humiliating, but when you’re not sure if your life is about to end in a hail of Genari gunfire, it doesn’t matter as much.
They were always a risky bet. If I’d known they were coming, I’d have handled this differently. The Genari are hyper-aggressive. And not in the way Crash is. They’re shoot first, never bother to ask questions sort of people. If I’d known they were coming, I would have made sure to get the money well in advance. But now they’re here, and something tells me they never intended to pay me at all.
“The chip is sold,” Crash says. “To me.”
We want it. Where is it?
Diplomacy isn’t going to work. I suspect he knows that even better than I do. Crash is a warrior. He’s been in battle many times. He’s strong. But he is outnumbered, and they already have their weapons drawn.
