Remnants of the Earth
OUTER SPACE => Open Space => Topic started by: Rhi-Rhi on September 20, 2015, 11:09:05 am
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[thread trigger warning: rape, torture, and violence.]
To say Esha wasn't scared out of her wits was an understatement.
She knew how the Rivideans treated their slaves, and the consequences for being outed as a spy would be especially gruesome. She wouldn't just be killed cleanly; no doubt, she would be made an example of, very publicly and very, very painfully. Her only consolation was that her group had done their research; they would be selling her to an older brute, a high ranked Carnotan "warmasta" that was harsh, but had since lost his taste for carnal pleasures after a brutal accident that had left him without a leg--and without his genitals. He still kept concubines, for they were visually stimulating at least and could tend to domestic chores. But they were something he hoarded like a dragon and kept to himself but could not have--but he also wasn't going to let anyone else have them, either.
It wouldn't keep Esha safe, for his temper was terrible, but it would at least be one less thing she had to worry about. The intergalactic slaver Esha was with, a bored human who had stakes in neither side of the war, had his orders. Sell to no one but the intended target. Intel had it that he was out today, looking for a new beauty to add to his collection.
They just had to find him. Wouldn't be hard. He stood out.
"Just keep your trap shut, missy," the slaver, Ben, said as they walked. "These guys are mean. Don't speak unless spoken to. Keep your eyes down," he added with a small jerk on the chain. Esha jumped, realizing she was staring at the sights around them and gawking like a tourist, and quickly locked her gaze on the ground.
"If you're given an order, do it. Fast. Without question. You're soft and pretty, and they like soft and pretty, but there's plenty of soft, pretty slaves to replace you. Don't forget that. You're expendable to them. And you get caught, you're dead. But not before they've made you talk. And they will."
Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. Esha shivered as she walked, and not just because she was used to a far hotter climate--and was dressed for it, too, in her thin skirt, sandals, and midriff-baring top. Yet, despite the cooler air, she was sweating--perhaps because walking felt a little more laborious from the different gravity. Suddenly, the collar around her neck, connecting to the shackles around her wrists, felt especially constricting. What if...what if she couldn't do this? What if she wasn't as brave as she'd felt when she'd agreed to this crazy plan?
The brief glimpse she'd gotten of the world around her, at the other milling slaves, at the fierce, giant Rivideans, made her doubt herself. A lot. Her group had said they'd extract her once she got the information, or if she found she just couldn't do it, but what if they couldn't?
She felt a little dizzy, her breath coming too fast and heart beating wildly. No, she could do this. She had to...
And how many of those Feylini slaves were also spies?
Worse, how many weren't? How many were also on the enemy side?
"Just act good and obedient and let me do the talking," Ben said. "After that, it's all you."
-
Indeed, the auction yards at the Rividean spaceport of LaunchPadd were alight with activity that day. Not only with ben's shipment,but an entirely new shipment of terrified Feylini slaves was being brought in that day.
Rivideans of all shapes and sizes were bustling about, looking for slaves to buy, skulls to crack, or goodies to snatch. The sounds of auctions were all around them, with boisterous auctioneers yelling prices into microphones and buyers clamoring with valuable pieces of scrap and coins made of precious metals. It was chaos. Smelly, loud, and violent chaos. But Esha wasn't destined for these minor auctions. No, choice goods like hers? She was going up onto Da Big Stage, where the best slaves were offered to only the most discerning customers.
With her acute ears, she'd be able to hear a few comments and bits of conversation, like:
"Choice cut, dat one. Prolly' gonna grace Da Big Stage. Not fer long, methinks."
and:
"Heard Da Unmortal's in Launchpadd."
"He buyin' longears?"
"Heard ol' Peg-Leg's comin' to town. LaunchPadd's Da Unmortal's turf."
"Dat'll be fun."
And so on and so forth.
-
Esha could hardly make any sense of what she heard. Da Unmortal? Peg-Leg? Well...Peg-Leg must be her, ah...man.
She stole a quick glance up at Ben, wanting to speak, wanting to ask him so many questions, but she'd lost her opportunity. She looked back down at the ground ahead of her again and willed herself to calm down. Just...calm down. It would be okay. She was going to Peg-Leg, and that was about as safe as she could be in a place like this. If she kept her head down, she could just do her job and get out. The sooner, the better.
It didn't calm her nerves much, though. What if...what if this Warmasta got bored of his slaves and ate them, too? She'd heard some Rivideans did, but...
Calm, Esha. Be brave.
They finally came to a quieter place in the auction block--well, quieter for Rividea. Here, the stages looked better kept, the slaves she caught sight of out of the corner of her eye in better condition, and even the Rivideans looked less scrappy. More powerful. There were far more Carnotans here, which made her shudder; they were so huge, each inch of them deadly.
And then, a quick glance up and she saw Ben was leading her to Da Big Stage.
The last auction had just finished up, and Ben spoke briefly with the Carnotan running the show before returning his attention to her.
"The mark's in the crowd, just do what I said," he whispered to Esha quickly, her sensitive ears picking up what another person wouldn't have. And then Ben smiled lewdly to cover it up and gave her bottom a smack that made her squeak.
"Make me rich!" he told her for all to hear, before he handed her leash off to the auction runner.
-
The auction runner was lean, shifty looking Raptian with bottle-bottom goggles and an armored leather coat that attempted to show off whatever muscle he had. He took her leash into his claws, and pulled her closer. This Raptian in particular was just an inch taller than her. he smiled at her giving her a nice view of his set of golden fangs.
The trader licked his teeth, and snatched her wrist up in one of his claws. He looked at her arm, then at her face, and then forcefully grabbed her cheeks to force her mouth open, peering into it for a few seconds.
"All her teeth..." he muttered to himself, and then he glanced up to her ears. Smiling, seemingly satisfied with his work, tugged her out onto the stage. A lowly looking Parasorian handed him a microphone, and he snatched it up, hissing for the servant to get off the stage afterwards.
"Right then, lads!" the Raptian said, and then lifted the microphone up to his lips.
"Dis fine piece is Choice Cut, so if you ain't got da scrap or da gold, clear out!"
A few members of the crowd left, grumbling, leaving only the elite there, all staring up at her with hungry eyes and grinning mouths.
"Nice, able cut we's got 'ere. Got all her teeth, got healthy bones!"
He yanked on her chain so that she stood sideways.
"And just look at dat ass o' hers! Who wants 'er?"
And immediately, the clamor for a bid started. The Raptian turned his sole focus to the crowd, to try and pick out the best offer.
-
Esha felt sick, being handled like a piece of meat like that, but she kept her mouth shut even as she trembled. She didn't have to fake fear and submission--she was glad she'd emptied her bladder before they'd landed, or she might be having an issue right now! But Ben was there. It was his job to only accept bids from Peg-Leg, and close the auction once sold to him.
Didn't mean she was any less freaked, though! It was one thing to agree to the mission before being in the thick of it, easy to be brave when she was back home. Now that she was here, getting examined by a predator, and then made to turn this way, her "assets" shouted out to the crowd...
It was utterly dehumanizing.
She wanted it to end already, before she lost her nerve completely.
And then, suddenly, a booming voice rang out, calling out a price that must have been impressive judging by the Raptian's reaction. A quick sideways glance, and she caught sight of a Carnotan.
A Carnotan whose weight was pitched just to the side, favoring his right leg.
Peg-Leg?
Thank gods!
Hurry up! Close the deal! she silently begged, her face hot with mortification. Even though she was still clothed, and in her usual get-up, she felt utterly exposed in front of all those cold eyes.
-
Peg-Leg's voice certainly did seem to quell the place up a bit, because even though LaunchPadd was somebody else's turf, Warmastas were Warmastas, and their voices carried weight, no matter who they were.
Peg-Leg's prime days, however, were behind him. Not only was he a bit on the old side, but his namesake peg leg meant that he hadn't fought in years. Another old warlord, growing fat and retiring, but still finding ways to terrorize the world.
"I'll give you two canisters o' nitro an' a Warbike!" Peg-Leg called out, and the crowd fell silent. It was quite the solid offer. The most solid offer the Raptian'd gotten all day. The Raptian slaver looked over to Ben, and then to Peg-Leg, and held one of Esha's arms up high.
"SOLD!"
The crowd groaned, but nobody dared challenge Peg-Leg. The Raptian lowered Esha's arms, and pointed to Peg-Leg.
"Come on up and claim your prize, Warmasta!"
-
Thank the gods! Esha let out a small sigh of relief, which felt strange considering the circumstances--to be relieved that she was sold to a monster!
But the relief was small, for when Peg-Leg stomped up to claim her, she still couldn't help but shrink back from him in fear--for he was huge and mean looking, and though his castration saved her from some abuses, it certainly didn't save her from all. Still, she kept her eyes low as Ben as directed her to do, ready to follow his order--
But he gave none. Taking up her leash and tossing the auctioneer his money, he gave her leash a yank and dragged her off the stage.
Quite literally.
"C'mon," he grunted while she struggled not to fall over, gasping and flailing, though with her hands tied together she had no way to balance herself. She toppled over to her knees, and he growled and yanked hard at her leash, pulling her up by it while she gasped for air. "Get up!" he snarled.
-
Quickly, the Raptian took the payment order, and bowed at Peg-Leg.
"Most gracious, Warmasta. Thank you," he said, and looked back to Ben with a smile. Two canisters of nitro and a Warbike didn't seem like much, but when the value was converted into Ben's cut of the spoils, it was quite the rich bounty indeed.
"Make way! Make way!" a loud voice came, thundering from past the crowd. It was a panicked looking Steggadonian, an odd sight, since there weren't many things that could panic a nearly seven foot tall creature. In the distance behind him, the crowds attending the auction yards could be seen parting, along with a choking cloud of dust.
The Steggadonian was wearing some sort of crude plating over his chest, and mounted onto his back, was a banner.
"Make way for Da Unmortal! The Masta of Disasta!"
Peg-Leg's arm fell to his side, loosening the slack on Esha's leash. Hesitantly, the massive Carnotan took a few steps back.
Behind the Steggadonian crier, a sinister looking black car pulled up, mounted onto monster-truck tires and spewing smoke from an array of belching exhaust pipes. Mounted on the front of the car, there was a skull.
Not Rividean, but Feylini.
"Wheelman of Da Hare Krushinya! Stompa O' Dreams!"
The car came to a stop. Peg-Leg wasn't quaking in his boots, but he didn't look all too eager either. The crowd parting to make way for the gigantic car all fell to their knees, and threw up salutes at the vehicle. The driver side door opened.
"I GIVE YOU: GREAT WARMASTA SUPREEM SKERRONDUS VON TEEFGRINDA!"
And with that, Skerrondus stepped out of his vehicle, fully armored (save for his helmet) and looking pissed. Skerrondus had some kind of a cross between a sword and a chainsaw strapped to his hip.. He looked around at his kneeling subjects, and then up at Peg-Leg.
"Ya made a big 'ol mistake comin' 'ere, Peggy!" the warlord called, his powerful voice silencing anybody who was still speaking.
"This is MY turf!"
-
Oh...NO...
That...that did not look good.
If the one that had her was a Warmasta, and this new one was a Warmasta SUPREEM, now, Esha was no expert about ranks and titles even though she'd been given a rudimentary education concerning Rividean ones, but...but she knew "Warmasta Supreems" outranked Warmastas.
She also knew that Peg-Leg did not look so confident anymore.
She also knew that vehicle looked ominous.
Esha couldn't help it; she looked, wide-eyed, at the smoke-spewing abomination that rolled up, her eyes falling on the skull in growing horror and recognition. A Feylini skull, gods. Worse still was the growing tension in the air--and the way everyone dropped to their knees.
Everyone but Peg-Leg.
Oh GODS...
Esha was on her knees, having fallen back on them when Peg-Leg loosened the slack, and with everyone else kneeling, she saw fit to stay right where she was when that huge, wicked-looking Carnotan stepped from the hell-vehicle. Her ears went back in fear, her body shivering, and she bowed her head and tried to make herself look small and inconspicuous, even though as a Feylini she stood out like a lamb among wolves.
Ohhhhh no.
Peg-Leg had encroached on territory that wasn't his.
This wasn't good. This wasn't good for any of them.
And silently, she found herself begging Peg-Leg to move, to hurry up and leave and take her with him before this got violent.
Because from the looks of it, it might.
-
Even if Peg-Leg had the spinelessness to run, where was he going to go? Everybody in Launchpadd served Skerrondus, along with everybody else as far as the eye can see. Skerrondus owned a massive tract of land, and LaunchPadd sat smack-dab in the center of it.
The way that he stood simply exuded dominance and confidence, and it was clear that from the way everybody seemed to quake in his presence, that he was the boss around here.
Peg-Leg pulled Esha closer, clinging to his worldly possessions, but Skerrondus only spared her a cursory glance before he turned his eyes back to the aging Warmasta.
"This is da last time ya set yer old carcass in MY land, Peggy!"
Somewhere in the crowd, a Parasorian called out "Throwdown!" and soon enough, it turned into a chant that the entire crowd was repeating. After a few moments, he raised a fist, and the crowd fell quiet.
"Warmasta Ferdus Killjurned The Peg-Legged, I challenge you to THROWDOWN!"
The crowd exploded into cheers, and soon, Rivideans from all around the auction yards were flooding in to see what was going down. Before Peg-Leg could accept or refuse, Skerrondus let out a terrifying roar, and charged towards the stage, leaping up onto it in a single leap. Pyrotechnics on the stage shot out gouts of flame, usually reserved for performances, and the crowd cheered.
"Come on, then, Peggy. Let's dance!"
-
With a hissing snarl of his own, Peggy shoved Esha out of the way and tossed the leash to Ben, who was still loitering as his own payment was sorted. Then, with a snap of his tail, he rounded on Skerrondus with a bellowing roar and charged.
Esha, meanwhile, did the smart thing and got down off that stage fast, practically tripping over her own feet as she scrambled down the stairs with Ben, who also did not want to be in the line of fire. The Raptian was also there, but he was watching the fight and shouting out his own encouragements with the crowd, their roars and cheers drowning out all else and making it difficult to even hear herself think.
Esha shot Ben a panicked look and grabbed at his sleeve. "What now?" she hissed, and looked to the stage with her ears laid back and eyes wide. There was no way Peg-Leg was going to win this. That much was obvious to her. He was slower, older, and crippled, his balance off, and he was not nearly as enthusiastic going in as the younger, larger, and quicker one was. Peg-Leg was going to lose, and lose badly, and then what?
...No, actually, she didn't want the answer to that.
"Looks like there's been an unforeseen complication..." Ben only muttered in response, his own eyes on the match.
"I realize that! I mean, what...what do I do now?"
"To the victor goes the spoils."
At her horrified look, Ben grimaced, but didn't look away from the match. "Look, whatever happens, just...hang in there. I'll report to your people. They'll get you out, I'm sure."
He was "sure"!
"No, no, we need to go back," Esha whispered back, still clinging to his sleeve. "Please, they're not paying attention right now, we could do it! Ben, please, he's going to lose!"
"No time. It's too late. This match was over before it begun. Just remember what I told you."
Esha looked from him back to the fight and felt sick, was certain she'd run if she wasn't chained, even if it would have been suicide.
Silently, she prayed for the underdog.
-
Indeed, it seemed old Peggy was destined to finally lose the rest of his life.
Skerrondus met his charge head-on, and when the two titans collided, sparks flew from their armor and there was the audible sound of flesh colliding. The crowd threatened to spill onto the stage with their enthusiasm, and bets were being exchanged.
Funnily enough, the Raptian slaver seemed to be the one mediating.
The two exchanged blows for a few moments, but in that sense, Skerrondus seemed to have the unanimous upper hand. Peg-Leg's blows fell on Skerrondus' heavy armor with little to no effect, while the younger, faster, and more violent Carnotan returned each blow twicefold with his gauntleted fist.
Then, disaster.
Peg-Leg swung high at Skerrondus' unprotected head, and he blocked it by raising his arm and catching Peg-Leg's forearm with his own. Grasping Peg-Leg's head, Skerrondus gave the older warlord a brutal headbutt that sent him reeling. Always one to capitalize, Skerrondus delivered a brutal low kick, and snapped Peg-Leg's good leg sideways. Howling in pain, he fell, and Skerrondus grabbed his Peg-Leg. With a sound that could only be tearing metal and flesh, Skerrondus ripped Peg-Leg's peg-leg clean off, and when the older warlord raised his hand to signal for mercy, Skerrondus only used his newfound club to shatter his wrist with a savage blow.
The force put Peg-Leg onto his back, and by this point, he was a beaten, bloody mess, barely able to move. Skerrondus dropped the bent peg-leg onto the ground, and drew his chainsaw sword. He raised it up high, revving it for everybody to see.
Flames shot out of his sword's exhaust pipes, and before Peg-Leg could even try and beg for mercy, Skerrondus thrusted the revving blade up through his jaw, spraying the immediate area in blood. Peg-Leg's limbs twitched wildly, but quickly fell still. Skerrondus pulled his blade up, and split Peg-Leg's head in two.
Then, silence.
"Don't you ever let me catch you 'round 'ere again," Skerrondus purred, inaudible to the crowd, but Esha was close enough to catch it with those ears of her. It seemed he took a distinct pleasure in brutally murdering what was (by Rividean terms) a helpless old man.
Skerrondus stood up, his front covered in blood, and turned to the crowd. He raised his arms and bellowed victoriously, and the crowd went absolutely wild.
-
Despite herself, Esha screamed.
She screamed when Peggy's leg was ripped off in a torrent of blood, and again when she looked up at exactly the wrong moment, when she heard the revving of an engine--and raised her eyes just in time to see that blade go through Peg-Leg's jaw. She turned away, hiding her face against Ben's arm, close to vomiting but too frozen even for that. He'd killed him. Not just killed him, but brutally; she hadn't seen everything, she couldn't watch, but she'd heard everything and that was just as bad, if not worse; her imagination filled in the horrible blanks her eyes missed.
He'd brutally murdered him, and enjoyed it, purring out those sick words to a dead man.
"Please, Ben," she begged again, but he only shook his head.
"He already saw you," he said. "He saw you were Peg-Leg's. I'm sorry, girl, but I can't."
Shaking with tension and fear, vision blurred with frightened tears after witnessing a bloody slaughter, Esha finally lifted her head to look at the brute. He was covered in blood, and more of that blood was now running off the side of the stage. Peg-Leg...
She kept her eyes averted from his body.
Maybe he'd forgotten about her. Maybe. She hoped he did, after a fight like that. She didn't know anything about this Carnotan but what she'd just seen, and what she'd just seen told her everything. Murdering a pitiful cripple. A Feylini skull on his vehicle.
"He'll eat me," she whispered, throat tight. "I can't do this."
"You have to, now."
-
Skerrondus basked in the bloodthirsty adulation of the crowd, and as the pyrotechnics on stage raged on. As he revved his sword, bloody gobbets spattered onto the stage, and he hyped up the crowd by throwing up his arms again.
Sickeningly enough, his teeth were gleaming steel.
Skerrondus looked down to the Raptian slaver, and the scumball scurried up the stage to his side. Skerrondus took the microphone away from him, and his powerful voice echoed around the auction yards.
"LaunchPadd!"
The crowd reacted with cheers.
"Let dis example teach you! Nobody cuts inna GeerKrusha businiss! We will krush you! Grind ya inna dust! Your things..."
Suddenly, his eyes were on Esha.
"Dismantled! Bring up the slave!"
Knowing what was going to happen, the crowd's eyes fell on Esha, and cries of encouragement fell towards Skerrondus.
"Crush her!"
"Gut her like a fish!"
"Rip and tear!"
-
Oh gods, no.
Esha's short nails dug into Ben's arm through his sleeve, her grip was so tight and desperate, and he looked down at her with a brief "oh shit" look. This was also not part of the plan, and they had no backup one, not for something like this. With a grim look up at the stage, Ben took a deep breath and drew away from Esha.
"C'mon," he said, and gave the leash a tug. But Esha couldn't walk. Her limbs had locked up in terror as she heard all that horrible chanting, calling for her blood spilled and flesh ripped, and she toppled to her knees and grabbed at the leash with her hands, shaking her head desperately and letting out a choked sob.
"N-no, please, please...!"
Of course, her cries fell on deaf ears. Ben grabbed her instead, tossing her over his shoulder like she was weightless, and ascended the stairs like he was hauling her to her execution--and he very well might be. As soon as he stepped onto the stage, he swung her back down and onto the ground, where she crumpled as her shaking legs gave out. There was blood everywhere; inches from her knees, there was a thick, congealing puddle with bits of flesh. Esha covered her mouth with her bound hands to keep from gagging, then stared up at Skerrondus--before she remembered Ben's words.
Heart feeling like it could explode, she quickly bowed low, kowtowing until her forehead pressed to the stage.
Ben, standing just to the side of her, offered the leash out to Skerrondus. "Great Warmasta Supreem," he said with a deep bow. "I'm sure you can agree from looking at her that this slave is prime meat. It would be a waste to gut her here--especially since ol' Peg-Leg never had her." He gave a small shrug. "Nor anyone before him."
-
Skerrondus gazed down at Esha, idly fingering the engine trigger on his sword. He was itching for blood, that much was true, and Ben's words incited a very certain reaction in the warlord.
Rage.
His eyes shot up to Ben, and he stepped forwards. Ben was only tall enough to come up to Skerrondus' chest, and was certainly at his mercy at the moment.
They both were.
"Don't flap yer gums at me, pinkskin. Open that runt mouth o' yers one more time, and I'll remove your tongue."
He returned his attention to Esha, and took her leash and yanked her up onto her feet. Clasping a hand around her neck, he tilted her head about, and gave her a looking over.
-
Wisely, Ben shut his mouth and bowed low, deep and respectful. He was trying to keep Esha alive, not get them both dismembered. Either way, it was officially out of his hands; Esha's fate rested entirely in Skerrondus's clawed hands, now.
Yanked to her feet, Esha gasped and would have crumpled again were it not for the hand gripping her neck. A hand that could just as easily snap her neck with a single flick. She snapped a brief look up at his face before jerking her eyes away, her breath coming out in short, panicked bursts. But she didn't speak. Even if it wouldn't have been entirely pointless to beg for her life, she couldn't have gotten the words out if she'd tried, not when she could scarcely breathe through the haze of fear.
She knew he was deciding her fate. And she knew she could just as easily wind up a mess of mangled flesh, sprayed out all over the stage.
-
At first, Skerrondus seemed not all that interested in Esha, focusing on her face, the fullness of her cheeks, and the roundness of her eyes. Taking the thumb-claw of one of his bloodied hands, he drew a faint scratch down her cheek, and then held her further away from him.
Eyes wandered downwards, and when they came back up, he grinned.
"Not a bad cut..."
His tongue passed over his gleaming teeth, and he abruptly dropped her.
-
Esha yelped when he dropped her, and landed on her bottom with a pained grunt. Her hands went to her neck, rubbing where he'd gripped her and then feeling at the shallow scratch on her cheek, wet with the blood he'd smeared there. Not a bad cut, he'd said. Oh gods. He was talking about her like a slab of meat, looking at her like a meal he was ready to consume.
The crowd was still shouting for violence and death, and she found herself staring at his bloody chainsaw-sword.
Let it be quick, she prayed, feeling dizzy as she huddled there at his feet and made herself small. Her ears went back, her heart loud in her ears and tears hot on her cheeks. Gods, I'm so sorry. I failed. Failed not an hour in...
-
Skerrondus looked down at Esha, hefting his chainsword onto his shoulder and gazing down at her. He grabbed her hair, and pulled it so that she looked at him. Now that he wasn't bellowing or yelling, his voice took on a more sinister quality. It also seemed to come out much more understandable. Perhaps he was more than just a raging brute.
"It's your lucky day, Longear."
He looked to the Raptian, and beckoned him over. He clambered onto the stage, and threw himself at Skerrondus' feet
"Load her onto my Wartruk," he said, and put the microphone back to his lips.
"I ride for Da Kasm, now! If I catch any Helldiva runts around 'ere, they suffer da same fate as old Peggy!"
-
Esha bit back a cry when he grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him, her own eyes wide and red from tears. She cowered back as much as she could with him gripping her, silently begging him for mercy even as she prepared to die. It wouldn't take much for him to end her; she was pretty sure he could rip her head from her spine if he wanted to. But maybe he'd go for something more showy as he had with Peg-Leg, a spectacle of blood and misery.
Instead, he spoke to her.
And his words, and the sudden clarity of his voice, chilled her.
There was intelligence beneath the brutality, and that was somehow worse.
And yet, even knowing that, she realized she was being spared here.
Lucky day, indeed.
The Raptian was soon by her side on Skerrondus's orders, yanking to her feet by the chain, and this time she managed to stand. Knowing she wasn't about to die gave her some strength to do that much, to at least walk off the stage with a little dignity.
A little, but not much, because getting tossed into a "wartruk" like a sack of grain, an object to be thrown around, and chained to it was about as humiliating as it got.
-
Esha was, indeed, tossed into the Wartruk. The Raptian was too small to do it, so he employed the help of a random Steggadonian from the audience, who hefted her up onto the vehicle's back (onto a platform normally reserved for passengers who couldn't fit into a passenger seat) and chained her to it.
Safety was a bit of an issue, and she'd have to make an effort to survive just the drive over to Da Kasm.
Skerrondus grand-standed for a few minutes longer, garnering attention and favor, before hopping back into his Wartruk. He pounded the side of the door as he got comortable in the driver's seat, and a couple Raptian warriors from the crowd hopped up and took up positions. One in the passenger seat, another hanging off the side, using some bars set into the side of the vehicle to keep himself in place.
-
Oh jeez. There was really nothing preventing Esha from just flying out the back of the truck as soon as it got going--and if that happened, she'd be dragged to death. As soon as she was tossed into the truck and her chains secured, she scrambled back from the edge as far as she could go and grabbed hold of the side of the truck, clinging for dear life in preparation.
She had no idea what this...this Kasm was. But if she didn't fall out, she was soon to find out. Closing her eyes, she said another prayer to the gods, any of them that would listen, and hunkered down.
Hopefully, if he hadn't killed her then, he wouldn't kill her when they arrived. Unless he planned on making some formal meal of her. She shuddered and stared out the back, at the crowds in the slave market--and Ben, who was watching the process.
For a moment, they locked eyes, and he nodded at her and mouthed, "Hang in there." Then he turned and vanished into the throng of reptilian bodies.
-
Indeed, it'd be a perilous and long drive towards Da Kasm. It existed on the coastline, a solid hundred or so miles away from LaunchPadd.
When the Wartruk got moving, it ambled through the streets of LaunchPadd until it reached the main gate. Once it cleared it, it slowly meandered out away from it a bit, and then stopped.
Skerrondus turned on the primary engine, and black smoke started to spew from the exhaust pipes (which came out of the sides and pointed upwards). He revved the engine and bursts of flame came from the exhausts. The rear tires started spinning, and the vehicle peeled out, shooting down the straight road that led to Da Kasm.
-
Esha nearly lost it right then and there.
When the Wartruk roared into action, shooting off down the road, she lost her grip and pitched forward toward the edge with a cry. It was only out of sheer determination that she managed to flail and grab hold of the edge again, and cling to it fiercely. However, she realized just minutes in that she wouldn't be able to hold on forever. Her hands were growing cramped from clinging and the ride wasn't exactly smooth, not back here. She was bumped and jostled along, gasping each time they hit a pothole, and she couldn't help but wonder why he'd thrown her back here if he hadn't wanted to murder her on the spot.
Because, it seemed, he was trying to kill her now.
She looked to the Raptians, but knew they would be no help, and so after a moment she gathered up the chain's slack and looked for a place to hook it to, finding, after a moment, a hook that seemed it might work. She looped the chain around it to anchor herself and then held on, curling in on herself to brace against the wind whipping her and staring out the back so she didn't get carsick from the wild ride.
She only hoped they'd stop, soon.
-
The ride was only around an hour long, but it'd give Esha a pretty telling scene of Rividea and it's environs.
The region they were in seemed to be halfway between a desert and some kind of grassy plain. For the most part, it was sand and shrubbery as far as the eye could see, but occasionally there were also patches of grass, and even groupings of small trees.
However, things seemed to get worse at a certain points. They passed oil platforms, fields of toxic black sludge. The earth seemed to be choked with pollution, a far cry from the docile environs of Jeth.
Finally, they arrived outside the gates of Da Kasm. The walls were made out of scrap metal, for the most part, although it was clear that there was some kind of construction going on. Towering high above the ground, the walls were fortified beyond belief, and patrolled by guards. The Wartruk pulled up, and Skerrondus blew the horn.
-
It was, indeed, a really harrowing sight.
And Esha couldn't help but wonder, as she looked at the sights they passed, if this was what Jeth would become.
This toxic, dying land of sludge and pollution.
It was why her people were fighting so hard--one of the reason, anyway. It was why they had to keep fighting no matter the cost, why she was here now risking it all--even though she knew, shamefully, that she would have run away back home with Ben if she could have. The trip, however, had given her some time alone, some much needed time to think and gather her composure, and the sights around her had sobered her all the more.
This...this might not be such a bad thing to have happened. Oh, no doubt it was a nightmare, but...but if this Carnotan was higher ranked than Peg-Leg, didn't that just mean she could be more useful? That she could serve a more important role? Any information she gathered would surely be more valuable to her people.
This might be...it might be okay. It might be an opportunity. A dangerous one, but...it would have been dangerous anyway. She could really help the resistance here.
If you survive, that nagging, unhelpful voice chimed in.
Esha hugged herself and looked up at the high, ominous walls of the fortress, at the milling guards.
This must be their stop.
She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
Just stay focused, she told herself. Whatever happens, don't forget why you're here.
-
In truth, Jeth was doomed to this. The Rivideans are ignorant to their planet's unique properties, they only believe that prosperity and scarcity come and go like the tides. With those beliefs carried over to Jeth, it would only be a matter of centuries before the planet is stripped bare and unable to support life.
The gate slowly lifted up to allow them entry, and they drove through the cramped streets and avenues of Da Kasm. The city seemed to stretch on forever, scrap buildings and smokestacks as far as the eye could see. There was a secondary set of walls off in the distance, towering over anything in the city.
Ominously enough, they were headed right for them.
-
Esha peered over the side to try and get a picture of where they were going as they entered the little city the walls guarded. There was another wall up ahead--maybe that was it? This guy was high ranked, so it stood to reason his...lair...would also be fancy.
Either way, Esha studied the area as they drove. She was tired and uncomfortable, hungry and thirsty and afraid, but now was no time to grow lax. She had to keep her eyes open and observe--
Because if she was to get out of here, if anyone was to rescue her, she needed to be familiar with the layout.
-
Unfortunately, there wasn't really any kind of layout to memorize. The city's orga nization was pure chaos, with buildings put up wherever there happened to be space. Sometimes, newer looking buildings sat directly on top of old ones.
It was truly disconcerting to know that the race that built this ramshackle town had also conquered the gulfs of space, and achieved the title of interstellar conquerors. Or, perhaps, it spoke to the weakness of the Feylini. One could never be certain.
Eventually, they passed through the gate at the secondary wall, and entered what must have been the single most fortified point on Rividea. Guards and vehicles patrolled the place in droves, even though there was just some plains, initially, with a single road leading up to Skerrondus' home. It was a two minute drive across those plains, and when they arrived at Skerrondus' fortified supermansion, they had to cross a bridge that spanned a moat.
-
Indeed, it was becoming depressingly clear to Esha that she was...severely unprepared for this.
She had been prepared for the Peg-Legged cripple.
She wasn't prepared for a monster and his fortress.
Still, she did her best to commit what she saw to memory, even as her heart sank into her belly as they crossed that bridge and drove into what may as well have been a military compound, for all the guards there were.
And as she took it all in, her anxiety only grew. How was she going to report to her people, much less be rescued by them?
-
Skerrondus' home was more than just a fortress. All around, there were servants conducting tasks, soldiers patrolling about, all stationed in the on-site barracks. Most interesting, though, was the building they pulled up to. Skerrondus' actual home was constructed of concrete, and compared to the rest of the buildings, a paradise. Made out of actual building materials scavenged from the invasion of Jeth, it looked like Skerrondus enjoyed a life that was insanely luxuriant, by Rividean standards.
The car came to a stop, and two heavily armored Steggadonians appraoched Esha and took her off of the truck's back. They forced her onto her knees, and Skerrondus exited his vehicle.
"Get her oriented, then bring her to me."
The two Steggadonians grinned, and forced Esha up. They wore heavy leather aprons with several pairs of shackles hanging off of them like decorations. They both had triceratops-esque features, and they had tally marks running down their horns.
"Come on den, Longear. time to get oriented."
-
Esha was still gawking at the home--that was Jethan architecture!--when those two armed brutes unchained her and hauled her from the back. She bit back a yelp, feeling rather like a rag doll being passed around, forced to do one thing or the next, and some part of her wanted to burst into panicked laughter at the fact that it was two Steggadonians handling her. Two! What did they think she was going to do? They were bigger than her, broader, stronger.
She was short even for a Feylini!
More importantly, though...
What did this orientation mean?
Hauled back to her feet, she had no choice but to stumble along after them, even as she felt the panic rising anew. She didn't like the sound of it. At all. And from the way those two had grinned, and from what little she knew of how Feylini were treated, she was already dreading it.
"What...what does that mean...?" she couldn't help but whisper, even though she knew she shouldn't speak.
-
And so, began the first part of orientation. When she spoke, they stopped abruptly. They looked at each other, and then one of them shrugged.
"Your turn this time."
The other nodded, and he immediately wheeled around and brought his powerful tail rocketing into Esha's side.
-
His turn? His turn to--
Esha didn't even have time to finish that thought. One of those powerful tails struck her, and she went toppling over, the air knocked clear from her lungs hard enough that she couldn't even cry out, and was left curled on the ground, wheezing for breath.
-
"Such a soft little Longear!" the other teased, and the one beating her turned her over onto her back with his foot. He grabbed her by her neck (his had was big enough to completely encircle it), and hauled her onto her feet.
"Don't speak 'less yer spoken to, runt!"
He dropped her back down onto the ground, and they both crossed their arms.
"Get up."
-
Esha felt stupidly weak and helpless. She could do nothing more than throw her hands up as though to shield her face when the one Steggadonian kicked her onto her back, and choked when he hauled her to her feet. Her heart thundered in her ears, hard enough he could no doubt feel it pulsing in her neck, and she gasped for air as he gave her her first lesson.
...Yes. Ben had told her exactly that...
Tossed back to the ground, she caught herself on her hands, but still scraped her palms and knees, and when one ordered her back up, she scrambled to obey.
Ben had also told her to do what she was told immediately and without pause. Even if she was hurt and aching, her side throbbing something fierce, she couldn't stay down. If she did, she might not get back up again.
She was on her feet with a little difficulty, wincing and sucking in air that wanted to turn into whimpers, but she braced her feet apart to keep herself from swaying too much even as her knees shook. Still, she kept her eyes firmly on the ground, her shoulders hunched and hands curled into balls.
She just didn't want to be hit again.
-
The two Steggadonians looked at her, and then at each other.
"She's a quick one, isn't she brother?"
One of the Steggadonians looked at her, and smiled.
"Quick."
One of them took her chain back up, and tugged her along as they resumed walking. They took her through the building's courtyard, well in view of everybody so that everybody knew there was a new slave on the block.
-
Was that a good thing? A compliment? Esha couldn't tell. As she was tugged along, she had no choice but to following, pressing her hands to her bruised side and stumbling after them. By then, she wasn't only hurting, but she was exhausted from stress and travel alike.
And having all those eyes on her as they passed through the courtyard was definitely chilling.
But she kept her ears up and tried to look at what she could as they went, even as a horrifying sort of hopelessness began to sink in.
This place was impenetrable...
And none of it really made sense.
-
Even then, though, there seemed to be some hope. Or at least, something that looked like it could be hope.
As she was being carted through the courtyard, there was a certain Raptian (and especially raptor-like Raptian) among the soldiers that paid her the most mind out of all. Everybody else just looked at her, and then stopped caring after about two seconds.
This raptian followed her across the courtyard with his eyes, and unlike the others, his held no inherent hatred, no lust for violence.
Esha was taken into a room that frankly, could've smelled better. The walls, floor, and ceiling were bare, and one of the Steggadonians stayed to watch her while the other went off to rummage through some things out of view.
-
Oh, Esha noticed she was being watched.
She felt the Raptian's eyes on her before she saw him, and when her eyes locked on his, her heart jolted. With a gasp, she jerked her eyes back down, conscious of what she'd been told--don't look a predator in the eye, especially not as a slave--and walked a little faster.
He may not have been looking at her with violence or hatred, but Esha hadn't looked long enough at him to see that. Scared as she was, right then, everything was a threat.
Ushered into a smelly room, Esha risked a quick glance around the room, but it was all plain. And the smell...oh. Gods. Wait.
Bare room that smelled awful. Steggadonian rummaging for something out of view. Skerrondus sending her off and telling them to bring her back to him later.
He'd...never mentioned that they had to bring her back alive.
What if this was where they brought prey to be butchered? There was no blood on the ground, but it could be washed away...
Her eyes went wide, her imagination conjuring up worst case scenarios, and took a fearful step backwards, bumping into her Steggadonian guard in the process.
-
Immediately, his hands were on her, and he shoved her off of him and to the ground.
"Scared?"
He laughed, and the other Steggadonian laughed too as he came back with a large toolbox. They both stood at the doorway, staring at her, and one of them let his eyes wander on her.
"It's mighty tempting," he said, and the other nudged him.
"Don't even think about it. He'll have that empty skull o' yours."
A groan, and the one who looked her over nodded.
"Good point. Hold her down for me."
One of the Steggadonians surged forwards to try and catch Esha and pin her against the wall.
-
Scared? Uh, yes. That was an understatement. The one crazy plan that may have kept her safe had failed, and now she was in a world of unknowns--except for the known fact that her captor was a terror to even his own kind. With a shudder and a slight glare at the guard for stating the obvious and laughing about it--as though he wouldn't be afraid in her position!--she slowly, wincingly, rose back to her feet.
Just in time to see the other enter with a tool box. And a leer.
Her blood chilled and she folded her arms over her chest, reminded abruptly that death wasn't the only danger here. They...they also used Feylini as...oh gods...
Her stomach twisted. Skerrondus probably wasn't castrated like Peggy.
Thar fresh new wave of horror had just descended upon her--the realization of just why Skerrondus might want her--when one of the Steggadonians lunged at her. With a yelp, she acted out of instinct, leaping to the side and out of the way, but that was about all she could do. The other blocked the doorway, the only exit, her chains were heavy, and her body bruised and tired.
There was nowhere else to go.
"Please..."
-
"Squirrely one!" her assailant laughed, and the other set down his toolbox, opening it up and taking out a rod with a peculiarly shaped head (http://imgh.us/OKKS.jpg). Just by the head, there were nozzles for fire, and tanks on the back end of it.
A self-heating branding iron. With a small rev, the flames licked the brand's head, and the leering face depicted started to glow a baleful red around the edges.
"Keep 'er still!"
Her assailant tried to trip her up with his tail, and capitalize on any weakness that might've cause to grab a hold of her.
-
No, not a slaughter house.
But they were still branding her like cattle.
Esha's stomach twisted, her face going pale and breath catching and, foolish as it was, she tried to resist as all that fear and anxiety built up to bursting. Stumbling with a yelp as that tail hit her legs, she nearly fell but caught herself against the wall before she could, then staggered back to put more space between them.
Her back only hit another wall, reminding her of just how futile this was, but right then she didn't care. Her eyes darted about the room, looking for an opening; maybe it was better to do something stupid, like run and get killed and maybe have some small, impossible chance, than it would be to stay here and be tormented for certain. Because who was she fooling? There was no plan! The plan was ruined! No one knew where she even was and how would they get inside here if they did?
She wasn't thinking clearly in her panic, and some part of her knew it--and it was that part that made her hesitate instead of launch herself for that exit, blocked though it was. That wasn't true; Ben knew, and Ben said he'd tell her people. She had to calm down and just...stick to the new plan. The new plan she had to make up as she went. There was no hope at all if she was dead, and she wasn't ready to stop living.
Panting heavily, she shrank back more, sliding down the wall until she was curled into a ball, her knees drawn protectively to her chest. "Please don't," she whispered.
-
With her words, only came another blow from the Steggadonian's tail.
"Oi! What did I say?" he bellowed, and he reached down to grab her, haul her onto her feet, and pin her to the wall, ending up with her facing it.
-
"D-don't speak unless spoken to, sir!" Esha gasped out through the pain throbbing through her bruised side and legs, bracing her hands against the wall so she didn't smash her face against it. Pinned though she was, she still squirmed where he held her; it was hard to fight back against that instinctive drive to protect herself and resist, even though she knew she couldn't win this, that struggling would only make it worse.
But gods, she couldn't help it. She didn't want to be burned. How could anyone just passively accept that?
"I-I'm sorry! It won't happen again! I'm just...I'm scared!" Embarrassing as it was, she let the words pour out, voice catching on a sob. It was horrifying, feeling this weak. And yet, she hoped it might also help her, in a way. If she was just viewed as a frightened slave, maybe she would be underestimated.
Wasn't like she was acting. The tears were very real, and so was the very mortal fear.
-
"Good. Be scared," the Staggadonian pinning her growled.
"Brand hurts more that way."
The Steggadonian with the bramd revved it a bit, and now, the metal was burning red hot. He took up a position behind her, and leveled the brand.
"Where do I stick 'er?"
Her pinner shrugged.
"House slave."
The one with the brand grabbed the rim of Esha's lower body covering, and pulled it down to expose a single buttock.
"Don't move, runt. If I get it wrong, I'll 'ave to do the other one!"
-
The sound of the revving made Esha flinch and squeak as though she were already being burned, and a quick glance back brought the brand into view, glowing just in the corner of her vision. The anticipation was the worst part; she knew it was going to be agony, but having them draw it out like this, having them casually discuss what to do with her, made it all the worse.
And then her skirt was being yanked down, though not all the way, and she realized what he intended.
Just like cattle...
She squirmed all the more, shaking her head "no"--until his threat made her freeze and blood go cold. Oh gods, no, once would be bad enough...
Turning back to the wall, she buried her face against her arms and squeezed her eyes shut, shoulders shaking with her sobs.
-
"There we go. Nice and still..."
Her pinner grabbed her hair, and held her even tighter against the wall. The one with the brand made sure he had it the right way up, and aimed it.
Then, he pressed it against her, and held it on her until he was sure the brand would stay.
-
It hurt more than anything Esha could have anticipated.
There was pressure, a hiss, and for a second it felt very strangely cold.
Then the pain came.
Blazing, searing agony swept through her, and the scream that tore from her throat didn't sound like it belonged to her. She thrashed and convulsed, her entire body going taut, and screamed again until she lost her breath and choked on ragged sobs instead. A horrible smell reached her nose, a smell like cooking meat, and she clawed at the wall in her vain struggles until her nails chipped and broke.
"Please, gods, stop, stop! Please stop!" she half sobbed, half screamed, muscles straining as she tried to squirm away, but she was pinned solidly and could scarcely move.
-
Although the Staggadonians were cruel, they recognized that branding was a delicate process, so fortunately for Esha, they got it over with rather quickly. When the branding was done, her pinner loosened up, but he still kept her against the wall.
"We'll be back."
And with that, the two of them just left her there, locking the door behind them.
-
Esha stayed right where they left her, leaning heavily against the wall. She felt nauseated from pain and the sick smell of her own burned flesh, and she didn't want to move, because moving would hurt more.
Really. Right on her ass. Through the pain and tears, she managed a sobbing laugh, though nothing about this was funny. She wasn't going to be able to sit for a while. Much less pull her skirt back up.
What next? Docking her ears?
Shaking, she turned and tried to look at the brand, but couldn't see it without a mirror. Gods, it hurt, even though the worst was over, and compared to that brand the rest of her aches and pains felt pretty okay.
Leaning her forehead against the wall and her arms, she rubbed her tears off onto her arms and tried to collect herself. Just breathe. Breathe through the pain and calm.
Easier said than done.
-
She was alone for around ten minutes, but when the door opened again, three sets of footsteps greeted her ears. Two were the familiar thuds of wide, Steggadonian feet. The third, however, were small.
They came from a gangly looking Parasorian, standing only five and a half feet tall with a bony forehead rimmed with spikes. He wore a bloody apron, and had several crude medical implements on a belt and in the apron's pocket. One of his arms was a prosthetic that ended with a talon, and on his hip his had a pistol with an underslung syringe bayonet.
"What's this, then? Longear?"
"Yeah, Maddok. Longear."
They stood at the entrance, and the parasorian cleared his throat.
"I am Maddok! Organic Mechanic to da Great Warmasta Supreem! Stand, Longear. I gotta give ya a look-see."
-
Esha heard the footsteps long before the door opened, and she stiffened and jerked straighter in alarm, her ears going erect like an alarmed, well...rabbit. The two brutes, no doubt; she recognized their gaits. But there was a third one among them, its footsteps lighter, and she swallowed hard. They brought a friend, and like everything else so far in this strange new world, she could only assume it meant bad things. More pain to come.
Maybe they would dock her ears.
The door opened and she flinched at the sound and peered over her shoulder. After a while, standing had become too tiring, and so she'd sank down to the floor to sit awkwardly, leaning on her hands with her legs tucked under her and to the side so her wounded buttock didn't touch the ground. Her shoulders hunched as she watched the three at the doorway, her eyes falling on the bloody apron of the new, smaller one and the crude medical instruments he carried.
A doctor?
He looked more like a butcher.
And yet when he told her to stand, dammit, she stood. Do what you were told without hesitation, right?
Struggling to her feet, wincing as each movement agitated bruises and the constant, stinging burn of her brand, she sucked in a deep breath and cast her eyes to the floor. She had to brace her feet apart to keep from wobbling too much; the abuse had taken it out of her, and a long day with little food or water.
And as though still worried about her ears, she pinned them back and drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Maybe...maybe he was just there to tend her brand? But her eyes kept drifting to all that blood, wondering where it had came from--and who's it was.
-
The doctor gave her a cursory examination from where he stood, before he jaunted closer on his flat, scaly feet. He examined her from head to two, before eventually taking one of her wrists up in his prosthetic talon-hand and looking at her slightly mangled fingertips.
"Brilliant. Gonna have to wrap these..."
He let her hand fall, and then reached up and grabbed one of her ears by the base, running his hand upwards. He turned back to the Steggadonians.
"They need these?" he said, jostling her ear.
"Think they hear outta those."
The doctor looked back, and let her ear go. Then, he moved up behind her, and unceremoniously grasped her ass, avoiding the brand on her wounded buttock. Lecherously, he kneaded the flesh there, nodding to himself.
A chuckle.
"Seems healthy... Gonna have to fix this brand up, too..."
-
OH GODS, YES SHE NEEDED THOSE! Esha wanted to yell, but instead she bit the inside of her cheek, relieved, at least, when one of her Steggadonian guards corrected Maddox. Either way, Maddox couldn't have let go faster. Feylini ears were sensitive in more than just hearing. Full of nerve endings, they were easy to injure--but gentle strokes and touches there also felt really nice, as nice as kisses and strokes along one's neck felt.
Simply put, it was an erogenous zone. Feylini themselves didn't really touch each other there, not unless they were close, the same way you didn't go up and give a stranger a massage.
And now this doctor was messing with her ear!
Her face flushed dark and a visible shiver ran down her spine, her tail fluffing out all the more, and she grit her teeth to hold in her gasp. It didn't last long, thank gods, because the feeling was frankly violating and embarrassing as hell!
It wasn't the worst part though.
She had just managed to regain her composure when--
"Ah!"
Yep. Those were his hands. On her butt. Esha jumped, letting out a surprised squeak, and if her face wasn't warm before, it was burning then as her spine went absolutely rigid, because that was no quick grope. He was kneading her! With a gasp, she squirmed and jerked away reflexively, unable to take that standing still as much as she tried.
-
"Oi!" Maddok said, and his talon hand snapped forwards to grab her shoulder. The claws were definitely sharp enough (and large enough!) to tear a chunk from it, so the fact that all she got was the feeling of pricks against her skin was incredibly lucky.
He pulled her back, and snarled in her ear.
"Not done lookin' yet. Keep still, Longear."
He stepped to her side, and lifted one of her arms up, and then stepped to her front.
"Yeah, seems healthy all right..."
He looked back to the Steggadonians.
"Get me a jar o' burn juice. Take your time, too," Maddok said, and the Steggadonians glanced at each other, before shrugging and leaving the room, closing the door behind them. Maddok looked at Esha, and grinned.
"On your knees."
-
Esha froze at the feeling of those sharp talons, just a slight squeeze away from piercing her skin. She held her breath, her pulse racing, and forced herself to stand still once he'd pulled her back. Still her skin crawled, remembering his touch.
Remembering what Feylini were to the Rivideans.
The rest of his exam was easier to bear. The mention of "burn juice" was reassuring. Gods, she'd been prepared to have to endure it with no medicine at all, regardless of infection risks, but it seemed, at least, that they wanted her to stay alive for some time. This definitely wasn't the treatment of someone meant for slaughter.
She...didn't think so, at least. Unless they just intended to fatten her up.
The Steggadonians left to fetch the "juice", and Maddox ordered her to her knees. With her eyes on the ground, and distracted with pain, she didn't catch his grin, didn't piece together the other clues. Oh, she knew he was lecherous, obviously; but the other Steggadonian had been warned against...temptatio n. In an indirect way, Skerrondus had protected her then.
Slowly, she obeyed, wincing and letting out soft whimpers as her body ached in protest.
-
Maddok didn't immediately get to is intended business. Instead, he gave the top of her head a more thorough inspection, brushing by the base of her ears several times in the process. In a distinctly Rividean process, he was checking her hair for parasites or insects. The parasites of Rividea, along with the fauna, all evolved their own ways to tolerate the destructive Rivideans. Some creatures became resistant to climate change, others became nastier and nastier, evolution's attempts to make them harder targets for Rivideans looking for trophies or meat.
The parasites became tenacious, and whenever Feylini slaves were introduced, parasites had a tandency to thrive in their hair, something that couldn't occur on Rivideans, for obvious reasons.
"Clean, too. Must be fresh. So nice and fresh," Maddok purred, and he undid his apron, letting it fall to the ground. He started to unbuckle his pants, looking down at her.
"You might be Skerrondus', but dat only protects you in 'is house. Out here, with the rest of us, you're just another piece of meat, sittin' at the bottom of the pole, and you're gonna learn what that means."
-
Esha's ears twitched and flicked away each time he brushed them, her shoulders wanting to climb up around her ears as he picked through her hair. Was he...checking her for ticks or something? His purring around her cleanness, her freshness, made her shudder even as she endured his examination.
It was like he was talking about a meal he was ready to eat. Gods. He was less violent, yet he was somehow worse than the Steggadonian brutes. They were simple. Easy to understand. And they didn't make her skin crawl with the sensation of slimy, wriggling insects. Something about Maddok's behavior screamed danger in a way that theirs didn't--
It was the rustle of cloth that told her exactly why that was.
She snapped a look up despite her better judgment, just in time to see the apron fall and his hands go to his pants.
It still took a second to register what that meant. Not because she didn't know, but because she didn't want to accept it. Her eyes went wide, the blood draining from her face, and with a gasp she scrambled backwards from him, falling onto her bottom in the process and crying out as pain flared up through her brand. But she didn't let it stop her; she staggered to her feet, chains weighing awkwardly around her, and backed up.
"Y-you...you shouldn't," she gasped out, heart pounding. "The...ah, the Masta Supreem. He'd be angry. I-I'm his."
-
Maddok laughed at Esha's terror, the claws on his prosthetic gleaming in the light, even as they held patches of rust and old, dried blood.
"You're gonna play nice, and you're gonna keep quiet about it, too," Maddok said, grinning.
"Skerrondus betta not hear a peep from you. I's the only doctor in this house, and if he roughs ya up one day, it's gonna be my job to fix ya. You snitch, and I's gonna make sure ya regret it. I's gonna make your life hell."
He slipped his belt off, but his pants stayed up.
"We got an understanding?"
-
Oh gods no.
Esha's heart stopped and her blood turned to ice. Her throat tightened with fear and realization, making it suddenly very hard to breathe, and she pressed her shoulders back against the wall while keeping her rear from touching it.
He had her there. If he was the only doctor, if she got hurt--and no doubt she would--he could make her life misery. He could kill her. Say he tried to save her but she was a lost cause. Give her the wrong medication on purpose. Ensure she overdosed. And probably worse things, too, that she couldn't think of because she had little medical knowledge beyond how to use a first aid kit.
Her breath came out in fast, quick pants. No. Gods no...
"I...I understand," she finally whispered, and swallowed hard. The Steggadonians. He had said, "Take your time," but they would have to return eventually. If she could stall long enough...maybe...?
"B-but I think...I think he might be able to tell anyway. If you do anything...it might be obvious." Another unsteady breath. "He really wanted to h-have me first."
-
"Quit yer stallin'. You think I'm that stupid, to take that?" Maddok snarled, and dropped his pants.
He motioned to his groin, and his member slid out from between his scales, a common feature among reptiles.
"Suck it. And suck it good, Longear. Wouldn't want ta make me pissy."
-
Esha stared, her face going pale and stomach clenching. She froze, every muscle tense to the point of aching, and blinked back a fresh wave of tears as her heart and mind recoiled. And yet, she knew she had no choice. Do it, or suffer; he'd promised her that much, and she didn't dare test his bluff.
With a shuddering breath, she stepped forward slowly, sank sorely to her knees, and stared up at him again. This time, though, she managed a bit of a glare through her tears. A weak one, one she had to work for, but it was there nonetheless. And then, clenching her eyes shut and taking him in her hand, she brought her mouth to him and gave him a hesitant lick even as she thought she might vomit.
-
Maddok's metal prosthetic came to rest on the top of her head, and he drummed the talons of it impatiently on her skull.
He looked down at her, a scowl on his face.
"Get to it, I said!"
-
Esha flinched as he snapped, and though every part of her recoiled in disgust and shame, the sharp talons pricking at her scalp were warning enough. Opening her mouth wide, she slid him inside, lips wrapping around him even as her stomach heaved and her throat convulsed in a gag.
You're doing this to save people, she told herself, an effort to numb herself to what she was doing, to distance herself from reality as she sucked on him and lightly bobbed on him. She clenched her eyes shut, not wanting to watch herself, and stroked the rest of him with her free hand and prayed it was...satisfactory.
You knew bad things could happen. But Peg-Leg had been her safest bet; he wasn't known to kill or torture his slaves, and he couldn't fuck them. But now? Gods. And it wasn't even Skerrondus she had to worry about. She hadn't considered his underlings.
And she was realizing now that to survive, she'd have to change tactics completely.
And do many things she didn't want to do.
-
The talons dug into her scalp a bit less once she actually got to work, Maddok visibly loosening up as she brought her skills to bear.
What made the act even more unpleasant was the fact that Rivideans weren't exactly the cleanest people ever. His moderately sized manhood reeked of its natural odors, and the fact that Rivideans were reptiles lent rather unorthodox shapes to their phallices. They lacked skin, and had no heads. Instead, they merely got thinner as they reached the end, topped with a fluke.
A more animalistic piece, for a more animalistic people.
"That's right..."
-
Silently, Esha pleaded for him to either finish, or for the Steggadonians to return, pausing now and then when it became too much, when she thought she truly might puke--which she didn't imagine would go over well. She gagged on him and held her breath when she could, but there was no way she could ignore the flavor, texture, or shape, or the gut-wrenching reality of what she was being forced to do no matter how she tried to distance herself.
It could be a while before the Staggadonians returned, and she didn't know how much longer she could stand this. Sucking in a breath through her nose and squeezing her eyes shut against the tears, both angry and violated, she steeled herself as best as she could and redoubled her efforts, licking and sucking around the tip and hoping it was as sensitive as the head of a Feylini's penis, hoping the same tricks applied and that she could speed up the process.
-
Fortunately for her, it seemed her trick worked. Although headless, Rividean members were sensitive at the tip, perhaps even more sensitive than a Feylini's. Also, it didn't help that Maddok was mostly bark, and less bite.
His steel talon moved to the back of her neck, and he pushed her into his cock, his other hand grabbing the top of her head in order to get her moving quicker.
-
Esha's blood chilled at the sensation of that talon on her neck which felt, to her, like a threat. Keep going or be hurt. Do a good job, or he could slip. Her heart beat faster, her breath catching, and she coughed around him as in pulling her more vigorously against him, he shoved himself in deeper than she was prepared for him to go. She grabbed at his hip with her free hand to brace herself and resist his grip, struggling to keep control and keep moving at her own pace--so she didn't wind up losing her stomach completely.
Hurry up, hurry up, she silently begged, and then relaxed herself as much as she could so she could take him in deeper, bobbing more vigorously on him in an effort to speed things along. She tried to keep her mind elsewhere, to think of other things, to imagine she wasn't here, doing this to her captor against her will, but tried to imagine she was doing this to her first and only lover.
But even that failed, and only made her choke on a sob, because he was dead and she was here, and it was a sick thought, thinking she was doing to Maddok what she'd once done in love.
-
For another grueling minute, Maddok used Esha's mouth, delighting in the sounds she made as she sobbed and choked around him. Finally, though, he came, but he didn't let Esha draw her head away.
"Suck it all down. Not a drop on you, you hear me?" Maddok snarled. He did her the mercy of only leaving his tip in, however, knowing his request would be impossible to complete if he remained too far in.
-
Finally, he came, and flooded her mouth, filling it with his repulsive flavor and texture, and Esha choked and tried to jerk back--but he kept a grip on her so she didn't get far. She balked, gagging around him, wanting nothing more than to spit him out, but she knew he wouldn't let her go until she swallowed, and that the longer she didn't, the longer she had to endure holding him in her mouth.
Her throat didn't want to cooperate. Her stomach rebelled. But she couldn't breathe and she couldn't escape, and so she finally managed to swallow--and keep swallowing as it wanted to come right back up again.
Some of it escaped from the corners of her mouth, but she got down what she could and then pulled back, struggling to get free of him and coughing all around him.
-
Maddok smiled. The evidence of their deed was gone, now sitting in the bottom of her stomach. As she sucked down his ejaculation, he purred out a few words.
"Wasn't kiddin' when dey said Longears give the best..."
In truth, almost all Rividean females were incapable of performing the act that Esha'd just performed. Certain... Dental factors prevented it. That being said, this didn't prevent Rividean warlords from adjusting the dentature of their female slaves to allow it, but even then, it wasn't completely effective. It further cemented female Feylini slaves into their roles as sex dolls and concubines.
He let her go, but not before wiping off the dribble that escape the corners of her mouth.
"Get used to it, Longear. We're gonna be seeing each other plenty."
-
As soon as he let her go, Esha jerked back with a gasp and wiped at her lips, but the flavor was going to linger a while. She wiped at her eyes, stubbornly whisking away the tears, and glared up at him as he spoke.
Maybe she should have bitten him. Just bitten his dick right off. Then Skerrondus would know she wasn't lying, and maybe...maybe he'd get rid of Maddok. She wasn't sure, though, and it was too risky. Maybe Skerrondus wouldn't care at all. She had no idea what Rivideans thought of their property or how possessive they were of it. Would Skerrondus care that his slave was being used by another?
She backed away from Maddok, shuffling backwards on her knees, and rose to her feet shakily to put some distance between them and lean against the wall, breathing heavily. "You're disgusting," she managed to choked out, and to her annoyance and horror, felt more angry tears burning her eyes. Now that it was done, she just felt angry. Afraid still, yes, used and violated, definitely, but angry that he'd done that to her, and angry that she'd had to do it.
Angry that these were the people destroying her home.
-
"What was that?" Maddok snarled, and he raised his metal talon, murderous intent in his eyes.
The door opened, and Maddok lowered his hand, shooting the two Steggadonians a glance. They smirked at him.
They had a feeling about what went down. Maddok often sampled the new slaves, it was a habit of his. The Steggadonians didn't involve themselves. He was, quite literally, risking his dick by violating her.
"Brought your oil," one of them said and tossed a tank over to Maddock. He caught it and set it down.
"Right then," Maddok said and looked to Esha.
"Up against that wall. Let me see that brand."
-
Why couldn't the Steggadonians have come sooner? Still, Esha couldn't feel too ungrateful; she had a feeling they may have just saved her life, or at least saved her from a lot of pain.
Heart pounding almost to the point of pain, she gave Maddok one final look, then turned to face the wall, her hands braced against it and forehead pressed against the surface. The brand was easy to see; she'd never pulled her skirt back up, so her bottom was still embarrassingly bare. But covering herself would mean having that fabric pressed and sticking to raw, burned flesh, and it hurt too badly to even think about touching it.
Gods, if only she could heal herself.
-
Maddok sprayed some of the burn-oil from the tank onto his hand, and he made sure it was spread nice and evenly before he stepped up to Esha and put his oily hand right onto her brand, using his prosthesis to clamp down on her neck to keep her from squirming away. The oil would sting, a lot, but once that sensation would pass, her brand was more or less healed, the flesh no longer raw.
Now, the leering depiction of a large-jawed face was permanent.
-
It was like getting burned all over again. Esha screamed, struggling and bucking to get free, but Maddok had his talons clamped around her neck so she could scarcely move. The sensation seemed to last forever, but slowly, and not nearly quick enough, the pain began to fade until it was naught but a memory, and soon Esha slumped forward against the wall, panting and gasping for breath as sweat beaded on her skin.
Shakily, she reached down to feel at her brand, and her fingers passed over healed, but textured, flesh. It didn't hurt; but feeling the edges of the brand, the shape her skin had been burned into, made her gasp and jerk her hand away.
Right before she remembered her ass was hanging out and, blushing, she yanked her skirt back up.
-
Maddok, grinned, making sure he got the full benefit of grabbing her ass again before she pulled her skirt back up. He let her go and wiped off the remaining oil on his prosthetic. Glancing to the Steggadonians, he took his leave.
"Movin' on to the next part, then," one of them said, and motioned towards him.
"Gettin' you outta those fancy Longear rags. Gonna wear you some proper get-up, fit for a runt like you."
-
It was a relief when Maddok left.
Esha never thought she'd think it, but she had started to miss the Steggadonians, and with only them in the room, she relaxed. Just a little. She knew what to expect from them, and...and at least they hadn't tried to violate her. They feared Skerrondus too much, and she knew what to expect from them. Obey, or get smacked. That she could deal with. That she could stomach.
And right then, after what she'd been through, she was too exhausted to do anything but obey.
She swallowed hard and turned back around, her stomach twisting at the vile flavor that lingered on her tongue and the sickness in her gut. She wanted to vomit, to purge, to get rid of all traces of that bastard on her, but instead she just sucked in a breath and stepped toward the Steggadonian.
"Yes, sir," she said quietly.
-
"See?" one Steggadonian said to the other.
"Quick."
They picked her leash back up, and led her out of the room and into a hallway. They walked for several minutes, before they led into another room. It was similarly shaped to the other one, but it was a bit cleaner. A single stool sat in the middle of the room. Pleasant humming came from a small Raptian woman at one end, sitting in front a mirror and preening her scales.
-
Another hallway, another room. Esha heard the woman first, and her ears twitched hopefully, her first thought being that maybe it was another Feylini. She hadn't seen any other Rividean women here, or at least she hadn't noticed any, and she had begun to think that, maybe, the only women here were Feylini slaves. It was a disgusting thought--and she couldn't help but wonder how their own women were treated.
It was as they entered the room that she realized the humming was a Rividean, one of the raptor kinds, and Esha's breath caught for a moment as a new kind of nerves made her tense. She didn't know what to expect from this woman--she could be gentler than the males, or she might resent her all the more for being not only Feylini, but an object of Rividean desire.
It might have helped her gauge the situation more if she had any idea about Rividean gender politics.
Esha's ears went back and she lowered her eyes and bowed her head, submissive and obedient. Whatever the case was, she didn't want to make a bad first impression.
-
"New slave for ya," one of the Steggadonians said, and the woman perked her head up. Her eyes were milky white. She was blind.
"I heard you come in," she said, a particular snarl to her lips, off put by the lip dye she was wearing. She looked like she might've been beautiful once, but now, she was old.
The Steggadonians ushered Esha into the stool.
"Keep still. Her eyes are gone, but her claws are still sharp."
The Raptian woman stood up, and started to amble towards Esha.
-
Esha took a seat on the stool as she was ushered to do, her hands in her lap and body stiff. She couldn't tell if the snarl was for the Steggadonians, or for her, and decided it best to just stay still and shut up.
She hunched her shoulders and watched her, studying her body language. She must be the one that was going to outfit her, something she couldn't help but wonder how she'd do it when she couldn't see.
-
She made it over to Esha, and immediately, she tapped the leg of the stool with her foot, to guage where she was in relation to Esha. She grabbed at the air in front of her face, and then frowned. She laid her hand directly on Esha's face, and shook her head.
"So, Ol' Skerro's getting Longears now, hmm?" She said, her tone mocking and venomous.
One of the Steggadonians shrugged.
"Just da one," one said, and the other chimed in.
"Spared her Da Rippa. Shifty pinkskin slaver talked him into keepin' her after he killed Peggy."
She smiled.
"Poor thing."
Her hands went to the top of her head, to her ears, and she gently stroked them.
"Where's she goin'?"
"House slave."
Another smile.
"Very poor thing."
-
Da...Da Rippa? Was that the chainsaw thing? Esha twitched as the woman touched her face, all too aware of her claws, though her tense twitching soon turned to an involuntary shiver when her hand slid over her ears and began to stroke them so tenderly. She flushed, her face heating, and tried hard to sit still and not fidget, even though her ears flicked under her hand and her breath caught.
Poor thing?
Poor thing to be spared, and very poor thing to be a house slave?
Wha...what?
She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand all this ambiguity, everyone talking around her about her but shedding no light on what anything meant. Biting the inside of her cheek and shuddering all the more at those ear strokes--which felt wonderful, but wrong, coming from the wrong person and making her desperately want to pull away--she took a deep breath and kept her eyes lowered.
"Ma'am?" she said quietly, as meekly as she could. "May I...may I please ask a question?"
-
The Steggadonians looked at the Raptian woman when Esha spoke, and she shook her head. She didn't like the Feylinian sitting in front of her, but she'd give the woman the mercy of answering a question.
It's not like the answer was going to help her.
"Spit it out, Longear," she said, and felt her ears for a bit more before tracing her face with her sharp talons, and then moving onto her neck and shoulders.
-
Esha held perfectly still as she felt the woman's claws on her neck and shoulders, her posture stiff. Yet she was surprised that she was being allowed to speak, much less ask a question.
It was, indeed, far greater a mercy than she was expecting.
"Thank you, ma'am," she said, and meant it. She cleared her throat.
"What...is a house slave? What are a house slave's, ah...duties. Ma'am."
-
"Means you get to stand around and look pretty. Get Ol' Skerro his drinks, service his guests..."
She continued to trail her hands down Esha's side, getting the contours of her body down. Then, she put her hands right on her breasts.
"Ample," she chuckled.
"Also means Ol' Skerro can bend you over and put his cock in you whenever he damn well pleases. You better play along, too. I've seen him rip slaves in half."
-
A small squeak left Esha when the old lady just went right ahead and grabbed her breasts, her body jerking. If she had been blushing before, it was vivid now, but she fought against the wave of discomfort. This was uncomfortable in a different way, but was nothing compared to what she'd been through moments before.
And it was nothing compared to what was coming. For the woman's description didn't sound all that bad--until, of course, the other shoe dropped and dropped hard.
Esha knew that was coming. And yet she'd asked anyway, desperately hoping for a different answer. She swallowed against the lump in her throat, her brown skin paling.
"I...I intend only to please him, ma'am," she said, even though she was shivering anew.
Skerrondus scared her in a way Maddok didn't. Maddok was awful, and she feared him--but not in the very mortal way she feared Skerrondus.
-
"Don't gimme that shit," the woman said, and let go of her breasts. Her hands went to Esha's thighs, and she gave them a good feeling up.
"Yeah, I think I might have something for ya..."
She turned about, tip of her tail dusting off of Esha's cheek, and went around a corner and into a seperate room.
"I was a house slave, for a while. I was his father's!"
She chuckled, and came back with a bundle of clothing.
"Had a cock like a fuckin' Plainstomper. Son's no different, either."
-
She was a house slave? Gods...
Did they just enslave women, period?
Rubbing her cheek, she held her breath to try to slow her beating heart and listened to the woman speak, watched her return with new clothing. This woman was no ally--it was clear she didn't like her. But maybe...maybe she could still help, in a way?
"You served them, and served them well, then," Esha said, "considering you are still here. If...if I may ask, ma'am, can you give me any tips or advice? You know him best."
-
"Hah! You makin' blind guesses, aren't ya?" she said, and dropped the clothing onto Esha's lap. One piece was a very tight white shirt that clung to the form, covering only her breasts, the area immediately below it, and her collarbone. The bottom was a short skirt with red panties. There was no bra.
The clothing was clean enough. It looked recently washed, actually.
"They had any kind of fond for me, I wouldn't be sittin' here, pickin' out clothes for their imported cunts on legs."
She seemed to grumbled and seethe, but she sighed, and then put her hands together.
"For your own sake, do whatever he tells you to."
She bared her teeth, showing her that most of the teeth on her left side were newer than the others.
"He's got a mean hook."
-
Esha stared at the clothing she was given--if it could be called clothing.
It was...
Esha's stomach twisted.
It was more like lingerie.
She looked back over at the woman, wincing at her insult--cunts on legs, as though Feylini slaves even had a choice. And soon she was wincing again as she noticed the state of her teeth.
Mean hook, indeed. Only Feylini teeth didn't grow back, not after they lost their baby teeth and got their adult teeth. That was it for them.
"I...I'm sorry that happened to you, ma'am," Esha said, swallowing down another queasy knot of fear. At least she could go into this prepared. As prepared as she could be, at least. For whatever good it would do. One of those "mean hooks" that knocked out the Raptian's teeth could no doubt kill her. "And I appreciate your advice. Thank you. For talking to me."
-
"Stuff it," came the Raptian woman's reply.
She looked to the Steggadonians, who gave her knowing smirks. She looked back at Esha.
"I ain't got too much love for Ol' Skerro. Pops was much calmer. I can tell you this, though..."
She pointed to her nose.
"Don't bother hiding from him if he comes lookin'. Carnotan's got noses like you wouldn't believe. Now get dressed."
-
...That was reassuring.
"Th...thank you for the advice," she said, while screaming internally. Some part of this didn't feel fully real. Even after what she'd had to do to Maddok, it hadn't fully registered yet. Gods. She'd been crazy to volunteer for this. But her people hadn't told her everything, and she'd been angry, so angry, about Aeran, about her friends...of course she wanted to help them, but gods...
But once more, Esha did as she was told, quickly and without protest. She rose from the stool and turned her back to the Steggadonians before she slipped off her underwear from under her skirt, and replaced them with the new red ones. Then came the new skirt, which she also managed to slip on under her old one.
Only then did she take off her old skirt and let it drop to the floor. But then she paused and looked to the Steggadonians, frowning.
"Excuse me, sirs?" she said, and jingled her chain, for her hands were still bound and the leash still tethered to her collar. "I don't mean to be a bother, but, ah, I won't be able to put the top on like this."
-
Esha didn't even really need to speak up. When she held the top in her hands and looked back at them, they knew what the issue was.
They stepped forwards, while one unhooked the leash from her collar, the other undid the shackles around her wrists. It was high time they took those things off anyways, since she wasn't going to be wearing them around the fortified mansion that was Skerrondus' home.
-
Gods, bloody finally!
Esha rubbed her wrists as soon as they were free, and then took a deep breath. Was this it, then? Would this be the last stop before Skerrondus's home? Her belly twisted into yet another knot of anxiety, for reality was finally starting to sink home. This was happening. He wasn't like Peg-Leg. He could really hurt her. Kill her. She was probably going to have to...to...
She swallowed hard, that horrible flavor still on her tongue, reminding her of exactly what she'd likely have to do. And more. With a shudder as fear crept over her, spreading goosebumps over her skin, she kept her back to the Steggadonians and slipped off her shirt, then replaced it with the snug new one.
Feylini were not particularly shy about exposing much skin, for Jeth was hot, but even this was too much, and the design was...gods. It may have been better to wear nothing at all, because it was the sort of thing she'd wear to bed with a lover. Well. Sort of. Feylini garments were much prettier, but the idea was the same, and the embarrassment was no less.
She quickly adjusted her skirt, wishing it came down lower, even though it had to be pulled down a little in the back to account for her tail. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, self-consciously.
-
Once Esha was finished putting her clothes on, the Raptian woman approached her and slapped a new collar around her neck. It was shiny, chromed steel, with the same mark that dominated her left buttock proudly emblazoned on the front, Skerrondus' mark. Similarly chromed bracelets went around her wrists and ankles, and then she was given a belt.
The belt had several twinkly bits and bobs on it, and as well as being actually kind of pretty, it made a very distinct sound as the items on it clinked and jingled.
Just like a bell on a dog's collar.
"How does she look, boys?" the Raptian woman called out, and the Steggadonians stood next to her, looking Esha up and down.
"Like a picture," one said.
"Nice and soft..."
-
...Oh man.
As Esha stared down at herself, and at the belt circling her waist, that knot of fear only grew.
It was going to be difficult to be sneaky with that announcing her every movement.
It was going to be difficult to avoid Skerrondus with that letting him know exactly where she was. If his sense of smell wouldn't already do that for him.
Her chest tightened as she ran her fingers over the shiny, jingly bits, so like what a dancer might wear to make music of their own when they performed, but which was now just another symbol of captivity. Gods. Even if Ben promised to tell her people, would they even try to get her out of here? And how was she even going to report to them, if they even knew where she was? They had given her clear instructions for reporting from Peg-Leg's place, but now?
No...she had to just keep with the plan and hold onto hope that things would work out. She just had to endure and survive and learn. That was all there was to it. Otherwise she'd go mad.
She looked up at the Steggadonians and Raptian, shifting her weight awkwardly. "It's...all very pretty," she said quietly.
-
"Damn straight it is," the Raptian woman said, and crossed her arms.
"Ol' Skerro likes his property pretty. You'd do best to keep yourself that way."
The Steggadonians hooked Esha's leash back on, and tugged her away.
"Off to see the boss, then. He'll want to have a look at you."
-
Ohgodsohgodsohgods.
With the leash hooked back on and the Steggadonians tugging her along, reality hit her full force. Her breath hitched, her heart leaping into her throat, and she stumbled along after her guards on shaky legs.
Oh gods, could she do this? What if she couldn't.
The belt tinkled as she walked, making quite the pretty sound, and what she was wearing was likely quite expensive--but she'd never felt lower, or more afraid.
-
"Nervous?"
Her escorts laughed, and they brought her back out into the courtyard, heading straight for the mansion. The guards at the door, two large Raptians wielding what might as well have been light machine guns, parted them, and they stepped inside.
The decor was odd, in that it was pretty much freestyle with no attention given to symmetry or actual design. Things were there because they were valuable, and just like slaves, Skerrondus hoarded couches, random paintings, and other odds and ends with no seeming rhyme or reason.
On Rividea, power and material wealth was everything. Sickeningly enough, there were plenty of furniture pieces and decorations that were taken from Jeth, war trophies to celebrate his campaign against the Feylini.
-
"Of course I'm nervous, sir," Esha said as she followed along. There was no point in pretending she wasn't; she was sure they could smell it on her, see it in her wide eyes, trembling hands, and flattened ears. Guards at the doors with guns. Heavily fortified walls and doors.
It was less mansion, in her eyes, and more prison.
And as they stepped inside, that sick feeling only grew.
So much was Feylini. So many furniture pieces, art pieces, all raped and pillaged from her home. How many people had died when they'd taken those things? How much blood had been scrubbed from them so they shone again? How many of those items' owners were now slaves, suffering in the mines or in Rividean beds? She jerked her eyes away, not wanting to look too hard for fear that she might recognize a piece, unlikely as it was.
Could Rivideans make nothing of their own, or did they just have to steal from everyone else?
She kept her arms crossed protectively over her chest, feeling especially small now, and kept her eyes open to try to memorize the layout. But it was difficult, because she was soon to meet Skerrondus one on one, and all she could think about was how he'd torn one of his own people apart.
-
Of course, there were plenty of Rividean pieces as well. The problem with Rividean culture was that it was a culture of scavengers, warlords, and survivors. Their whole society exists in a state of constant recycling.
When fresh resources came in from Jeth, along with scrap and parts recovered from Feylini vehicles, buildings, and facilities, Rivideans saw a period of renewal. Things became newer, shinier. More advanced. In short, the Feylini were being assimilated.
Finally, they came onto a grand hall, and it was simultaneously the most impressive and terrifying room in the house. It stretched on for thirty meters, and the walls leading up to Skerrondus' throne were adorned with trophies. Turrets from Feylini tanks hung on chains, some adorned with the skulls of their pilots. War trophies from conquests on Rividea, taking the form of mounted skulls, steering wheels, or even entire vehicles, all decorated the room. Skerrondus' throne itself was made of around five engine blocks all put together and shaped into a rather magnificent looking seat. Exhaust pipes shot out from the back and pointed upwards, and above the throne, there hung a gigantic plaque, ripped right from the steps of the Feylini capitol building.
Skerrondus himself sat on his throne, slouched, looking bored. Da Rippa sat leaned against the side of his throne, and on either side of the throne there were racks of weapons, each every bit as outlandishly customized as the next.
-
For Esha, it was more terrifying than impressive. Impressive, yes. That was true.
But to her, all of it was just...death.
Those skulls, those gutted vehicles. Stolen items, stolen lives, all just to be trophies for a crazed warlord to hoard and show off. But what chilled her most of all was that plaque.
It was the one that had once been in front of their capitol building.
Realization began to dawn on Esha then, her breath catching--why would he have that? How could he have gotten that unless...unless...
...Oh dear gods above.
Her eyes finally fell on Skerrondus himself, surrounded by weapons--including the one she was most intimately familiar with, the one she'd viewed a demonstration of. And whatever bravery she'd been dredging up in herself, whatever threads of it that still remained, instantly shriveled up inside her as she took a trembling step backwards and stared openly in pale-faced terror.
The plaque. A throne. This heavily fortified mansion inside what she could only describe as a fortress. The way everyone deferred to him.
Oh gods.
Was he...was he the one that...that lead the...?
She swayed a little in place, feeling suddenly dizzy.
-
Skerrondus' eyes fell on Esha, just in time to see her take a few terrified steps backwards, so see all the blood drain from her face. Just in time to smell her fear...
He smiled, steel fangs glinting in the light, and the Steggadonians ushered her forwards. Skerrondus's razor sharp talons drummed against the armrests. The blind Raptian woman, it seemed, did a bang-up job on Esha, because he shifted to a more attentive position. His tail, which laid off to the side and over an armrest, swayed in place.
The Steggadonians brought her over to the foot of his throne, and forced her down onto her knees.
"Do you know who I am, Longear?"
-
They hardly had to force her to kneel. Esha practically crumpled to her knees as her legs gave out. She had been terrified of him before, after seeing what he did to Peg-Leg. But now, realizing who he was, that fear took on a new dimension.
She should have never volunteered for this. Gods, what had she been thinking? She was going to die here. They were never going to get her out--how could they?!--and he was going to kill her, going to rape her and shred her and eat her and mount her skull on the wall with the rest! Her eyes darted briefly to Da Rippa, then back to him, and she swallowed against the dryness in her mouth and throat.
"Y...yes, sir," she managed to croak.
-
Skerrondus smiled even wider, and he leaned forwards just a bit. He, for one, had never had a Feylini slave for himself. One could call him a purist, in that he didn't really seek out Feylini for his personal desires.
Rividean women worked just fine, after all.
"Who am I, then?"
-
"Y-you...you are the Warmasta Supreem," Esha managed to force out, her eyes falling on those glinting teeth. "You...you took the Capitol, Arta."
A pause, and she added, as though hoping to be proven wrong, "...Correct? Ah, s-sir."
-
"Great Warmasta Supreem, Longear..."
He stood from his throne, towering over her like a monolith dedicated to war, and the tip of his tail rested on the bottom of her chin, tilting her head up so she could look into those violent eyes of his.
"What's your name?"
-
...Correct.
His tail tilted her head up, and she stared up into his eyes with her own soft violet ones. She swallowed again, licking her lips, and forced herself to stay as still as she could.
Not a difficult task, really. Feylini tended to freeze up when very frightened, and Feylini soldiers were trained extensively on how to deal with, and overcome, that hardwired instinct.
"E-Esha, sir," she said, voice almost a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Esha Amaris, Great Warmasta Supreem."
-
"Esha," Skerrondus repeated, her name rolling off his tongue like it already belonged to him. He smiled, and his tail was slowly making its way around her neck, like a snake preparing to strike.
"I think I'll let you keep it, just like how I let you keep your life."
-
Esha swallowed hard, her shoulders hitching up as that tail coiled around her neck, her throat tightening with a repressed scream. He could no doubt feel her pulse rapidly beating as she braced for him to hurt her, to strangle her, something awful.
"Y-you are most merciful, Great Warmasta Supreem," she said, hands curled into trembling fists. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
-
"Only temporary," Skerrondus continued.
A hand extended from his side, and planted itself right on the top of her head, petting her there.
"Speak out of line, or disobey me, and I will correct my mistake."
-
Esha tensed, shivering as she felt those clawed fingers stroking through her hair. Still she managed a small nod, lowering her eyes and keeping her ears pinned back, though they quivered like the rest of her.
"I-I wish only to serve you, sir," she whispered.
-
Suddenly, the hand petting her stopped moving.
"When that runt of a pinkskin talked me into letting you live, he told me you were... untouched."
The hand resumed stroking.
"Is this true?"
-
Esha closed her eyes, a fresh shudder going through her at the question. She licked her lips again and folded her arms over her chest, suddenly all too aware of how exposed she was.
"Th...that is true, sir," she said, hugging herself a little tighter. Gods, please. Let him have other business to attend...
She cracked her eyes open with a shiver as he resumed his petting, her blood gone icy and goosebumps all along her skin. It wasn't the truth; she had made love to Aeron, the night before he'd been killed all those years ago, and they had kissed and touched plenty before that. Then there was Maddok. But Skerrondus didn't need to know about Aeron, and she couldn't tell about Maddok, and he'd have no way to know it wasn't true, anyway, short of an examination--and even examinations couldn't deliver a real answer there.
Besides, as far as those things went, her time with Aeron had been bloodless and painless. She had stretched, but never torn. Her only worry now was whether claiming virginity was the right answer. Rivideans could have valued experience more, yet wasn't it Ben's claim that she was untouched that saved her?
And would she be killed if he learned the truth?
-
"Good," Skerrondus said.
Of course, Ben ended up not really saving his skin at the end. When the cards were down, he'd attempted to do business with an enemy of Skerrondus', in his own territory as well. Ben was currently in Rividean custody, which might as well have been prison.
Suddenly, his tail tightened around her neck, and he lifted her clean off her feet using the powerful appendage. He looked to the Steggadonians.
"Leave us."
-
So that had been the right answer.
That was Esha's last, relieved thought before his tail tightened as she was hauled into the air. She gasped out, choking, and clutched and clawed at his tail to try to take some of the pressure off as she gasped and wheezed for air, her heart hammering in a fresh wave of panic. She wanted to cry out, to beg him, but she could barely breathe, much less get words out. The most that escaped was a whimper.
And then came the words she'd been dreading.
He told the Steggadonians to leave.
Oh gods, no...
-
"This is the last part of your orientation," Skerrondus said, watching the Steggadonians leave the room, and when the sounds of the doors closing echoed through the chamber, he heaved her onto his throne with enough force to daze her.
-
Esha felt her back thump hard against the back of the throne and she gasped at the force of it, dazed for a moment as the jolt went through her. But she recovered soon enough and pressed back into the throne more, curling up tightly with her knees to her chest.
She shivered, for a moment unable to breathe through the blinding fear. She didn't have to ask what he meant. Gods, she had a feeling she knew, had known from the moment she'd been taken by him, but nothing could have prepared her for the raw fear of this moment. She cowered back from him, feeling tears prick at her eyes, because she wanted so badly to run, to bolt from that throne, but she couldn't.
There was nowhere to do. And even if there was, he'd catch her, and the consequences would be dire.
This was going to happen unless a miracle occurred. No amount of begging or pleading would stop it. If she couldn't run, at least she could try to get through this as painlessly as possible. Obedience. Compliance. She just had to survive this.
"Sh...shall I undress, sir?" she managed to say even as she remained curled where she was, voice barely a whisper as fear constricted her throat.
-
His tail came back around to smack her across the face. Not hard enough to injure; Skerrondus knew how soft Feylini were, how easy it was to break them. Definitely hard enough to get his point across.
"Don't open your mouth at me, slave!"
He lunged to put a hand around her throat and turn her over onto her belly, to lay her over the armrest of his throne and bend her over.
-
Esha cried out, her head snapping back, and she was still reeling from the blow--which shocked more than it hurt--when he threw her over the arm of the throne.
She gasped, her breath momentarily knocked from her lungs, and when she could breathe again it came out a choked, fearful whimper. It was stupid idea. Stupid to think she could save herself from any of this, but she had still tried despite it, hoped that by offering compliance, by offering to please him, she could control some part of how this went down--and save herself at least a little pain and damage. Of course it wouldn't work. Of course he just wanted her to be his rag doll. Of course he just wanted to hurt her.
Why had she expected, hoped, for any different?
Burying her face in her arms to hide herself from the reality around her, Esha clenched her eyes shut and finally broke down into muffled sobs. She didn't move, though. Didn't try to fight it. She knew she couldn't.
All she could do was pray it was quick.
-
As Esha would probably come to learn in the future, Rividea was a cruel, unforgiving place. It was a place that forced its people into performing acts of savagery just to survive, just to make sure that they reproduce. Rividea had a nasty habit of crushing dreams and hopes beneath its heels, reducing those that live there to just one, basic instinct.
Survival.
And just like the planet, it's people were cruel and unforgiving. For Skerrondus, this was business as usual. The groin plate in his armor clanged to the ground, and he clasped a hand around Esha's neck from behind. He lifted her skirt up, viewing his property before making use of it, tracing a claw around her brand.
-
Esha shuddered as she felt his claw on her skin, as she jumped as something clang to the ground. His hand on her neck pinned her, though she would have hardly tried to run, and her eyes fluttered open for just a moment to glance out at the throne she was tossed over.
A throne. She sucked in a shuddering, sobbing breath. How fitting, that he planned on taking her here. Violating her on the very symbol of her own peoples' violation.
She squirmed a little, unable to keep still even though she knew she couldn't escape, her skin crawling under his touch and panic grabbing her tighter the more everything sank in. It would do no good, but panic and logic were not good friends, and she could keep her silence no more.
"Please...please master," she whimpered through her tears, one final, desperate effort. "Please, I...I can make this b-better for you, master."
-
Her words, although once again unwarranted, caught his ear. It was an interesting proposition, and he could both hear the trembling desperation in her voice, feel her terror in his hands, and smell her fear.
She reeked of it.
He leaned over her, speaking into her ear. When he spoke in a low voice, his tone grumbled, and it sounded like he was growling.
"How? Speak, slave."
His hand tightened around her throat for a few moment, reminding her he could break her neck with a thought.
-
Oh, thank gods.
Esha could have cried in relief--not relief for the situation, but relief for the stalling. He was listening, and not just hitting her and forcing himself on her like she'd expected. And that was something.
She flinched as he drew so close, growling into her ear, and her heart hammered faster like a trapped, panicked creature. She sucked in a breath as his hand tightened, reminding her that, indeed, she needed to speak up and speak fast even as fear made her lose her words.
"I...it's something better shown," she finally managed to say past the lump in her throat. "I, ah...I can use my m-mouth. Before you take me. It...I...I've heard it feels really good." She was grasping at straws and she knew it, but Maddok had seemed to like it well enough, said "Feylini do it best", so maybe? Maybe Rividean women couldn't. The Raptian did have wicked teeth.
She shivered, praying he'd hear her out, and clenched her eyes shut to hold back more tears. "I-it'd give me time. To...to prepare. It...won't feel good for you if I don't. Master, I...I haven't done this before, but I was...I was told some things, and..." She swallowed. "Given some tips for use on my master." Another shivering breath. "I-I would like to try them. For you."
Please, gods. Please. Please let him humor her.
-
His grip on her neck loosened from an inescapable vise to a near-choke, and the had he had on her branded buttock fell still. His mouth remained by her ears, air flowing from his nostrils, steel teeth gleaming in the light.
Blessed silence for a few seconds, and then, he spoke.
"It better be worth my time."
He pulled her up off the armrest, discarding her onto the ground before his throne. He took a seat on his throne, eyes locked onto her, and he unsheathed his member.
Cock like a Plainstomper indeed. The thing was massive, a testament to his position as an alpha male. It made even the most well-endowed Feylini look shriveled in comparison.
"Get to it, then. Remind me why I spared you."
-
Discarded onto the ground, Esha scrambled back up onto her knees, her heart close to bursting with fear and relief in equal measure. It had worked. For a blessed moment, she was spared. Drawing in some panted breaths, she wiped quickly at her eyes and then, hesitantly, looked up at Skerrondus.
And held her breath.
He...he was massive.
Her stomach gave another twist and she closed her eyes to steel herself, pressing her legs together tightly where she knelt. Gods. He would tear her in half with that, and she half wondered if that's what the Raptian woman had meant. It mattered little, though, because she had to act fast before she lost this tiny window.
"Y-yes, master," she whispered, before she closed her eyes and took him in hand. She had learned her lesson with Maddok, and this time wasted no time in taking him in her mouth, though it was a stretch even then. She convulsed a little, fighting back her gags, but didn't hesitate to start to lick and suck at him. This was no less a violation, but gods, at least it wouldn't hurt her. At least this was...a situation she could somewhat control.
And she was hoping beyond hope that Rivideans were like Feylini, that once they came they were done.
-
Skerrondus rested his cheek on an elbow, a neutral, yet volatile look to his eyes. He was on a hair-trigger, that much could be seen. She was walking a fine line here, counting on the mercy of a merciless man.
A man who'd slaughtered countless Feylini, either personally or by order.
Still, though, by virtue of just being able to perform oral sex on him, her request was humored, and for now, it seemed she was keeping him at bay. If she didn't find a way to keep him interested, it was going to be right back to square one.
-
Gods, he looked almost bored.
Which only added to the panic Esha already felt. She knew her very life counted on this, and so she fought back her disgust and anguish and redoubled her efforts, stroking with her hand what she couldn't fit in her mouth (which was a considerable amount) and bobbing vigorously on him, her tongue swirling around the tip, lips massaging and suckling. She stole glances up at him, hoping for some change in expression, some sign that...that he wasn't about to just murder her.
And she hated every moment. Felt disgusted with him, with herself, but no less desperate to do well. She had to keep his interest--she knew that--if she didn't, he'd just...just hurt her. So after another hesitant thought, her stomach twisting, she paused only to lift her top with one hand before she rose up higher onto her knees and slid his cock between her breasts.
She took him in her mouth even as she moved, sliding him betwen them, praying he'd at least find it interesting enough to...stay placid.
-
It seemed she was close to losing him, however, when she increased her efforts, and added her breasts to the effort, she seemed to get him back. His breathing came a bit softer as he relaxed, tail idly swaying as it laid out to the side.
Once more, his hand found itself on her head, resting there as she worked.
-
He was depressingly unresponsive, which made an already stressful endeavor all the more anxiety-ridden. It was difficult to tell if she was pleasing him, and if he wasn't pleased, she was fucked. But when his breathing softened, and his hand rested on her head, she shuddered and clenched her eyes shut tighter and let out a shivering breath.
He could either pet her, or he could dig those claws right into her brain.
Still massaging him with her breasts as she nursed the tip of his cock, she released him with a sucking pop and blew a light breath over the wet flesh, hoping to add more interesting sensations to the mix. Then she licked all up his length before taking him in again, grazing gently with her teeth to tease, before she took him in deep as she could and bobbed on him, her enthusiasm driven only by her will to live--and get out of this unbloodied. Gods, just let him enjoy this. Let this please him. But it occurred to her that he'd probably fucked countless women; she had a lot to compete with.
-
For Esha, it was petting.
He stroked her ears quite gently, something somebody as despicable as him shouldn't be capable of. It was true, he'd both bedded and raped a significant amount of women in his life, but none could ever really do what Esha was doing for him right now.
"So it's true... Longears do it best..."
-
Esha tensed at that stroking, her ears twitching under his hand and a small gasp escaping her through her nose, tickling against his shaft. It...was better than the alternative, this strange gentleness, but she still didn't want him touching her, inducing those shivers in her as her body betrayed her mind. It was easier to do things to him, to touch him; right now, she at least had a little control of the situation, even though it was precarious and on his terms. But being touched was terrifying.
She moaned softly around his cock, forcing herself to make little noises in the hopes of pleasing him, and moved more vigorously on him. Her jaw was getting painfully sore from holding her mouth open so wide, but she ignored it, and prayed he'd be quick as Maddok was. Prayed he'd finish and be done, that he'd need recovery time like Feylini did.
But from the sounds of it, at least, she was doing something right and so, heart pounding hard, she released him again only to lap at him from base to tip, then slid him between her breasts again as she sucked again on the tip, raising her eyes to his to give him the most lust-filled look she could muster as she took him in deep again and again.
-
Again, nothing but slight approval from Skerrondus, but even as she bobbed up and down and made lusty moans and looks, Skerrondus' perpetually bored expression only wavered slightly.
Sure, it was something only she could do, but that didn't mean that he had to settle for just this.
"You said letting you do this would give you time to prepare. I don't see you doing much preparing," Skerrondus said, a light growl to his voice.
"You're not stalling, are you?"
His hand tightened on her head.
"I hate liars. They make me... violent."
-
A chill went down Esha's spine, sudden and violent, and her throat tightened as fresh fear seized her. No, no, gods no...
She froze, tensing, and felt her eyes begin to burn. Caught at her own damned game.
Of course he wouldn't settle. Of course a monster like him wouldn't care about an "untouched" woman unless he could be the one to tear her open.
Hands shaking and breath catching with that realization, that he wouldn't be satisfied until he could brutalize her, she slid her mouth off him only so she could speak, her mind working fast. One misstep and she wouldn't live long enough to be hurt--and maybe that would be better in the end, but she doubted he'd make it that easy or clean.
"N-no, master," she breathed. "I...I just...you're very big. I needed both hands to pleasure you..." And she glanced down at her hands, keeping her breasts pressed around his cock, and sucked in a shuddering breath. It wasn't exactly a lie, and hopefully flattery would help soothe him. "I'm sorry, master. I'll...I'll get ready now."
Blinking back fresh tears, though a few escaped to slide down her cheek, she went back to gripping him with one hand as she sucked and licked, and slid the other under her skirt and into her panties. She was the opposite of aroused--but she needed, at least, to trick her body into thinking it was. He was going to hurt her. But as her fingers moved over her clit, and then slid inside her when she began to grow wet, she hoped, prayed, that this way, he would at least hurt her a little less.
-
Her flattery got her some kind of slack, and the hand loosened up on her head and got right back to petting her. He saw the tears streaming from her eyes, and the sight of them aroused him further. He was a sadist, both physically and emotionally.
There was nothing sweeter than the fruits of your labor. He personally took it upon himself to break in every new slave that he got. The third step of orientation.
He pushed her down a bit, forcing her to take even more of his monstrous cock into her throat. He breathed in deep, nice and audible, catching the scent of her womanly juices. Further aroused, his cock got just a bit more swollen with vigor.
-
Esha choked, gagging when he pushed her down further and panicked for a moment when she couldn't breath, but she pulled back against his hold on her, sucked in a few gasped breaths through her nose, and struggled not to lose her rhythm. Just keep him pleased, keep him happy, give him reasons to keep her alive. That was her only goal now, as much as it terrified her. Just please him and pray it would be over soon. But already it felt like hours had passed, and he showed no signs of stopping.
Her panties soon grew damp as she worked her fingers inside her, desperately trying to relax herself--an impossible task, tense as she was, but tension would only make it hurt more. At least she was wet now. That...could help a little. At least her body was registering what her fingers were doing, even if her mind wasn't. It all felt distant to her--a vague sense of pleasure between her legs, but it could have belonged to someone else, like her body didn't belong to her, and all she could focus on was her own fear and anguish.
Some part of her still prayed he'd get off before he could take her.
-
Unfortunately, Skerrondus' patience was nearly at its end. Her work was awkward, slow. She was trying, he could see, trying to artificially prolong things. Trying to stall, to keep him from truly having his fun.
No more.
His hand shot forwards to grasp her around the neck, to pull her up off her feet.
"Enough. Maybe when you're better at it, I'll let you try again. Believe me, I'll make sure you get the practice."
-
Yanked off her feet by the neck, Esha let out a started yelp and a pained gasp and her heart did flip-flops of terror. She grabbed at his wrist to try to take some of the pressure off and sucked in quick, panted breaths as she squirmed in his grasp.
Practice? Gods...
"I-I'm sorry, master, I-I'll do better next time," she choked out, trembling in his grasp, and it took everything in her power not to start begging anew, begging for mercy or gentleness or something as fresh fear squeezed her chest tightly. Just do what he says, the Raptian had said. Do what he says and you'll keep your teeth, at least.
And at least, for the moment, she was in no real position to beg when she could scarcely breathe well enough to form the words.
-
"Hope there'll be one."
And with that, he threw her right back onto the throne, an almost sickeningly close repeat of last time. He even bent her over the armrest.
Skirt went up, and this time, her panties went to the side. A talon passed against her folds as he felt her, eyeing his property with a certain... hunger.
-
Esha hit the throne, bent over it like before, and she was still reeling and trying to regain her breath when she felt his claw on her, sliding her panties aside and then...touching her.
Everything in her recoiled, stiffened, and she sucked in a shaking breath when his claw touched her flesh. If he tried to stroke her like that, if he tried to press his finger inside her, there wouldn't be a next time for sure; he'd slice her open like a knife and she'd likely bleed out.
Breath hitching on a sob, she pressed her legs together, even though she knew it'd do no good, her tail twitching anxiously. Gods, she couldn't do this. She couldn't do this. If this was to be her life...
It wouldn't be a very long life.
And yet still her mind raced desperately, searching for still other ways to stall, or at least make this easier. Anything, anything but being taken like this...gods...he could very well kill her here...
"M-master, I...I can make it better still...I-I was told another trick..." she whimpered out, hips squirming as she tried to buck away from his touch. She clenched her eyes shut, ears pinned back as she braced for agony--a punishing blow for speaking, his cock pressing in--and she squeezed her legs together tighter and hid her face against her arms, shoulders shaking.
-
Skerrondus didn't finger her, only rub her quite hungrily, but when she spoke, things changed quick.
His hand shot forward and grasped her head, following up by pushing her face into the throne and holding her head away from him. He managed to get inbetween her legs, so her flailing stopped being effective. His other hand actually gripped her buttock, claws digging in and causing pinpricks of blood to come out.
"Shut the fuck up."
His head leaned in, steel teeth brushing her ears as he nuzzled her in a sickening fashion.
"I have Feylini in prison camps all over Jeth. For every word you say, I will order the death of two."
He started to tease her entrance with his cock. He was so big that it was just a few centimeters off from being capable of severely damaging her.
"I only let you live for one reason; I'm going to fuck you whenever I want, however I want."
He started to press.
"Welcome to Rividea."
-
Agony came.
He shoved her head down hard enough that if her arms weren't there, she could have smashed her nose against it. Still it hurt her neck and she yelped in pain, then in panic when she felt him move between her legs. Still she struggled, raw terror taking over, until she felt his claws digging into her flesh.
She froze up completely then, too afraid to move, and let out a choked sob and dug her already ruined nails into the throne. He nuzzled her and she could do little else but shiver violently, her eyes wide as she stared at the seat of throne and thought that, maybe, that would be the last thing she saw, that this would be the last thing she ever felt--just terror and pain, and gods, why did she agree to this? Why was she volunteered? Because no one knew her name, yes, but she couldn't do this, she'd already failed, and now her suffering was for nothing.
Now she could get others killed. Her own friends, even. Her heart hurt, beating its panicked rhythm, as she thought that her own friends could die just from her begging.
And then she felt him rubbing between her legs, and her sobs came out ragged. She squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears dripping onto the throne, and silently begged him not to, begged the gods to make it stop.
But he didn't.
He began to press in and she cried out, hips bucking away from him, nails digging into the throne until her fingers trailed blood, and she started to feel light-headed, started to feel like she was being torn apart as screams tore from her throat. She had never bled before, but she bled now as he stretched her, tore her, and she begged him to stop, her words incomprehensible from her sobs, but she couldn't stop them from pouring out.
-
For Esha, there's be no miracle. No salvation from this suffering, this almost symbolic moment between conquerer and conquered. The Feylini, a relatively peaceful race, butchered on a slab of steel by the Rivideans.
After what would no doubt feel like an eternity for Esha, Skerrondus ran out of space. The tip of his cock pushed against her cervix, and then stopped. Even then, there were a few inches of him left out. He'd well and truly speared her, and he only relished it more when her blood and mixed juices started to lubricate the process.
Her screams had been counted. Skerrondus intended to make good on his promise, committed to seeing her broken.
And then, because things like this never got better, Skerrondus drew back, inch by inch, preparing to make his first thrust.
-
This wasn't the quick ordeal Esha had been praying for. This was slow, excruciating, until she thought that, surely, hours must have passed as he sank into her. She squirmed, but that only made the pain worse, and so she balled her fists until her knuckles went white, bloody fingers digging into her palms until it hurt, and bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Anything to take her away from what he was doing to her, to give her another source of pain to focus on--but it was a vain effort; nothing could overpower the stabbing pain between her legs.
And then he hit bottom and she let out a choked cry, her stomach cramping powerfully like she'd been punched in the gut, but from inside, and a wave of nausea swept over her that took her breath away. She reeled dizzily, then gasped and whimpered when she felt him pulling out, body tense with agony. He'd torn something, whether her hymen or vaginal wall, and it burned and stung and stabbed, a raw, horrible pain, with each movement.
It was a small mercy, at least, that she could no longer form words. She was helpless to do anything but cry, her voice going ragged, and she realized with a miserable jolt of terror that he hadn't even begun yet.
-
"So... This is what I've been missing," Skerrondus purred, claw still playing with Esha's clit as the other grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head up.
His size was just shy of vaginal wall tearing. Something like that would spell doom for her, and she'd likely bleed out around him as a result.
Her hymen, though? Yeah, it was pretty much nonexistent at this point.
He pulled back, and then pushed back in. Slowly, he built up speed. He didn't want to go right into it, since he actually wanted to give Esha's body a bit of time to adjust. She'd do him no good dead.
-
And then, through the agony, came a sickening flicker of pleasure as he toyed with her clit. It was almost worse than experiencing only agony. It didn't numb the pain, or even distract from it--it only blended the two together into a strange cacophony that had her feeling ill and wishing he'd only hurt her.
She was already being forced to feel pain; she didn't want to be forced to feel pleasure, no matter how slight, during her violation. She didn't want to enjoy any part of her rape.
Head pulled up, Esha's eyes snapped open to the throne before her, and for a moment she thought he might break her neck. But instead he only continued to move, slowly, then a little faster, each thrust tearing cries from her throat. And yet, sickeningly, the more he moved, the more her body adjusted, the more the pain began to dull. It didn't stop hurting, but it hurt a little less--or maybe she was going into shock.
She couldn't tell anymore, agony blending with that strange thread of pleasure as she yelped and cried out wordlessly, wriggling a little beneath him.
-
Skerrondus pulled Esha up closer to him, so that when he was bent over her, her back would brush against his breastplate. His free hand fondled one of her breasts, even as he continued to play with her clit.
"Such a soft thing," Skerrondus commented, as if knowing she was weaker than him only turned him on more.
He let go of her breast, and put that hand on the top of her head, stroking her there like she was some kind of pet.
-
His hands felt slimy against her skin, violating her inside and out, and she gasped out hoarse cries as he continued to move, even as his finger worked on her. Pulled up against his chest, she grabbed at his wrist--not to try to pry his hand off her chest, but just to hold on, before she fell forward again when his hand went to her head instead, petting so gently--a strange, sick juxtaposition to the brutal way he was hurting her.
Sicker still was how her body betrayed her, shivering with more than just fear now as his finger worked her, and his cock moved inside her. She sobbed, but more weakly now, growing too exhausted even for that, and as she buried her face in her arms she muffled more than cries, but also sharp moans as adrenaline, fear, and endorphins flooded her bloodstream. Her body responded despite the havoc wreaked on her mind, out of self-preservation and fight or flight instinct, and though it was still agony, her body registered some of it as pleasure and responded with arousal.
Esha squirmed beneath him, panting for breath and sobbing in pain and pleasure alike, hearing herself--but it was as though the sound came from very far away, like she wasn't completely there. She registered what was happening, but as though through a lens, the whole thing taking on a surreal quality even as she clawed at the throne and arched her back.
-
As Esha got more and more used to his girth, as she loosened up against her will, Skerrondus got less violent. Sure, it didn't change the fact that he was brutally raping her, but his hold on her loosened, and his motions became less jerky and aggressive. As things got better for him, he got happier.
His hand smoothed over her ears, conscious of the weakness the Feylini race had for ear-touches. His thrusting was still increasing in pace, although he had her pretty much set on depth.
-
It was strange, how weirdly gentle he suddenly was, if gentle even was the right word. She shuddered as he pet her ears, goosebumps breaking out all over her smooth skin, and her sobs turned to whimpering moans--and then gasping cries. She liked this less than the pain, even if the pleasure was a blessing in a way, and as she registered his loosening grip and the way he calmed, the part of her that could still think, and that desperately wanted this to end, latched onto that change.
She just wanted this to be over...
It sickened her, but she started to move back against him as much as she could while pinned, wriggling her hips even as sobs of pain caught in her throat as it stung and chaffed raw and damaged flesh. And yet the angle was just right, just right to rub right against a spot that made her shudder and cry out for a different reason, and she hated it even as her body responded, hated it even as she writhed beneath him, encouraging him to keep going, forcing out small, gasping moans, some pained, some real, even as her breath hitched on tears and her body ached.
"M...master...gods.. ." she moaned out, shifting gears completely, now just wanting to hurry this along as she had wanted to do with her mouth, just get him off and be done.
-
"Change your tune that quickly?" Skerrondus growled, and he pushed himself in just that bit deeper, really pressing against the opening of her cervix. More pleasurable fluids replaced blood, and even Skerrondus' precum served its purpose.
He started to pound into her a bit harder now, so that her buttocks clapped against his hard scales.
-
Her body had adjusted, sure, but Esha still couldn't take the sensation of anything bumping her cervix. It hurt, making her cry come out sharp and pained as she cramped up again in agony, and then when he began to pound into her--
Her body had grown used to his slower pace; she wasn't ready for that.
She screamed, overwhelmed, her body aching and yet also adjusting even to that in time, though her belly was still cramped up and her breath came fast and labored. But even that passed, though the pain lingered and her sex hurt, but pain blended once more into that strange cocktail of pleasure as he took her, hitting her at the right angle again and again, and though she hated it, though her throat was raw with her cries, though her fingers bled as she scrabbled at the throne for purchase and sobbed, a strange but familiar sensation began to well up inside her, tightening in her gut, driven by adrenaline and fear and pleasure and pain and over-stimulation all around.
Her moans sharpened, her hips twitching, her back arching as that pressure built, taking her breath away and threatening to crash over her.
-
She'd have to adjust to that bumping feeling against her cervix, because she was no doubt going to be feeling it for almost every day for the rest of her life.
Skerrondus knew he was pleasing her, in a way. The familiar tenseness of her insides gave her away, along with her gently arcing back. He clamped his hands around her waist, pulling her into his thrusts as he fucked her like she was a toy.
Suddenly, he leaned forward, hand clamping onto the armrest just next to her head. His breathing was sharp and primal in her ear, ever inch of him exuding his dominance.
-
Agony, pleasure, fear, shame, they alternated and blended until Esha couldn't tell where one sensation ended and the other began. She screamed as he used her, pulling her into each punishing thrust--and then, to her horror, that building tension broke right when he leaned in close and breathed into her ear.
Her cry was choked, surprising even herself, and then she was biting her hand hard as her body trembled and spasmed, sex clenching around his cock as her body flooded hot with pleasure and endorphins. And even as it did, hot tears poured out as her shudders were in part from sobs, horrified at herself even though she had no control over her body's heightened, terrified responses, horrified that she'd orgasmed even though she didn't want this, didn't want any of this.
And yet she was, her body still shuddering powerfully and breath catching on her moans, and she hated herself, and she hated him.
-
When her sex squeezed him, Skerrondus let out something that might've been a purr. Something that let her know that he absolutely enjoyed every second of this.
And yet, even with Esha's climax taking full swing, he didn't stop. He wasn't anywhere close to being done with her, at least not for today.
"That's right, little pet..." Skerrondus growled, and he resumed petting her ears.
"I made you cum, Esha. Me..."
He laughed, and his intensity grew.
-
His words made her heart hurt, her stomach clenching with nausea--sickness with him and with herself, that he'd induced such sensations in her even as he brutalized her, and her head swam. But still he didn't stop and she shuddered beneath his pets, her ears twitching and flicking, and her teeth drew blood as she bit her hand hard to hold in her cries.
Please stop, please stop... she begged, and squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to ignore his taunting words--though they echoed again and again in her mind, tumbling around with increasing horror.
It never felt like it would end, and as he grew more intense, more screams tore from her throat even as she tried to go elsewhere, tried to be anywhere, mentally, but here, in this neverending nightmare.
-
Skerrondus ate up every bit of sweet suffering that Esha put out, timing his increase in speed so that she adjusted to him every time.
He thought her pain would bring him satisfaction, but in reality, it was the exact opposite. Watching her horrified expression as she enjoyed what he had to dish out was so much more fulfilling.
-
And that horror only grew as she began to squirm again, gasping and biting down on her hand again as she arched and pushed back against him, reacting despite her own wishes. The pain still burned between her legs, but it was a duller pain as she still shuddered and shivered from her last release--and felt another begin to build as he slammed into her.
-
"One more for me, Esha," Skerrondus said, and he grabbed her arms and pulled them back, now in full mount.
He drove himself deep, paused, and then started to fuck her like a piston. The huffed breaths from his nose signaled the approach of something big.
For Esha, it meant the end was near.
-
To Esha, it felt like it would never stop, and when he grabbed her arms and wrenched them back, and began to really ride her, she thought she might pass out.
She moved how he wanted her to move, a rag doll in his arms, and threw her head back with a sharp yelp, eyes clenched shut as she cried out to the ceiling. She shook her head despite her moans and whimpers, wanting to deny him that. He could have her pain, but she didn't want to give him her pleasure--if it could even be called that. That wasn't the right word, really, because there was nothing about this she enjoyed, nothing about this that was pleasurable, even if her body was going through the motions whether she wanted it or not.
Still she moved, wriggling on him as he took her, gasping for breath between helpless cries and trying so hard to fight it, to deny him his satisfaction--but she was exhausted and hurting, and it was out of her hands.
Her body went taut, spine arching, and then she let out a choked, whimpering cry as she came again, her body curling forward even as he pulled her arms back, her head down and hair falling into her face, hiding her.
-
It was there, the second time Esha came, that Skerrondus hit his own peak as well. Once more he bashed against her cervix, seed shooting well past it an flowing directly into her womb. He filled her to the brim, and even then, it wasn't over. He pulled out, and covered her back and ass.
He made his way around, keeping her bent over the armrest, and edged the tip of his cock by her mouth.
"Clean it."
-
Esha was still reeling in breathless agony, her belly knotted and cramped horribly, when Skerrondus finally came. Inside her, over her, it didn't matter; all she knew was that it was finally over--or at least she prayed it was.
Either way, when he demanded her to clean him, she obeyed. Quickly, lest she incur his wrath. Weakly, thoroughly exhausted both emotionally and physically and feeling like she would vomit from pain alone, not to mention the sickness in her heart, she licked and sucked him clean, stomach reeling at the mixed taste of her own wetness, his semen, and her blood near the base. She had no tears left to shed, though her breath still came out in shudders and pained whimpers.
It was over, she hoped, and everything hurt all the more.
-
Skerrondus had his hand on the top of her head, petting her once again as she worked.
"Perhaps I'll keep you after all..." Skerrondus said as she polished his cock. When she was done, the thing retracted back into him, and he stepped on over to his throne and pressed a button by the armrest she wasn't draped over.
A pair of guards came in, and Skerrondus motioned to Esha. They took her clothes, and picked her up to take her out. Skerrondus otioned for them to pause, though, and he approached Esha.
He put a claw beneath her chin, and angled her head up to look at him.
"I counted your words. I make good on my promises."
-
It was over. Thank gods, it was over.
Esha couldn't move from where she was. She was too weak, in too much pain as the adrenaline began to die down. Guards came and hauled her up, and she gasped in agony, too hurt to even be ashamed at being seen like that, bleeding and bruised and covered in his...expulsions.
She was limp as they carried her save for her trembling--she couldn't seem to stop shaking--but tensed painfully soon enough when he put that claw under her chin--and spoke the words that sent a fresh shiver of horror down her spine.
No...
She opened her mouth, about to beg him not to--but froze before the words came out, her throat to sore to form them, and her mind catching up with her quickly enough to stop her. He'd probably just kill more. Fresh tears she didn't know she had welled up in her eyes and her breath hiccuped on a sob.
Oh gods, no...
-
Skerrondus exchanged a few words with the guards in Rividean, and they hauled her up and out of the throne room.
It was a long, humiliating walk through the halls of Skerrondus' fortified mansion. When they reached the small, solid wall cell that was Esha's quarters, the guards just dumped her onto her cot and left.
The room had a toilet, a cot, and a small fire pit with a pot. It also had a faucet which dispensed clean water.
Combined with the two meals she'd be receiving daily from the guards, it contained everything she'd need to survive.
-
Esha didn't have the strength to do much else but curl up on that cot and sob, another fresh wave of emotion crashing over her as soon as she was alone and removed from the situation. She couldn't stop shaking, and she hurt all over, but especially between her legs and the muscles of her thighs. She didn't want to move, didn't want to look at herself, didn't want to touch herself.
But she knew she must.
She didn't know how much time had passed before her tears dried up, but she finally managed to push herself up. She felt numb. Emotionally spent. But each twinge of pain only confirmed the reality of what had happened, and what would keep happening, and she jerked her mind away from that as much as she could and struggled to focus on what she could do. What she had to do.
She had to pee and clean herself, or she could get an infection. And so she made use of the toilet, squeezing her eyes shut and holding her breath as even that burned, her flesh torn raw. She forced what she could of his expulsions out of her, flushed, and then began the painful process of cleaning up.
She washed in the sink, cleaning off her back, scrubbing out her mouth, washing what she could from her skin before she finally washed between her legs. She was still bleeding, still horribly swollen and bruised, and each gently touch with a rag made her wince and suck in a breath. And she had just finished doing what she could, and left the rag between her legs to catch the rest of the blood, and because the coolness felt soothing, when another intense wave of nausea washed over her and she wound up on her knees before the toilet.
Esha didn't have much in her stomach, but she vomited even when she had nothing but bile left, and even then she couldn't stop dry heaving and sobbing all at once.
This was it. This was her life now, to be spent in a cell except when...needed. It was over. She couldn't do her job, much less be rescued from it.
She was going to die here.
-
Esha was alone in her cell for quite the while. There were the occasional footfalls of an armored Rividean passing by her cell, but apart from that, she was undisturbed for a good long while, until suddenly, the sounds of claws on the sliding viewport into her cell clinked out.
It slowly slid open, and the sharp, beady eyes of a Raptian peeked in.
"Psst. Hey."
The viewport opened a bit wider.
"You conscious in there?"
-
By that time, Esha had dressed and curled up onto her cot, shivering still and unable to sleep as her mind raced in an endless loop. Her keen ears picked up every sound, twitching as they strained to listen, and she tensed and curled in tighter on herself every time footsteps passed by her cell, as though expecting someone to barge in and drag her away to be hurt and tortured again.
And then, when the viewport slid open and voice hissed for her attention, she jumped, her body going taut and heart slamming in her chest, and she clenched her eyes shut.
No, no, no, no, no...
But she was too afraid not to answer, too, and so with an effort she managed to croak out a miserable, "Y-yes...yes sir..."
-
"Good."
Her food hatch opened up, and a small envelope was dropped in. A few taps at the viewport to get her attention. The Raptian peering in had blue scales and green eyes.
"I'm not your friend. Management's a steamin' cack."
The envelope was a dead-drop from Feylini spies. It had proper food, two syringes (one potent antibiotic, one painkiller) and a shiv.
More importantly, however, were the inclosed orders:
Circumstances extremely unfortunate. Nobody foresaw this. We are aware Skerrondus is a tempting target, but do not interfere. If you're found out, or if Skerrondus is put down by subterfuge, it puts our network at risk. You must be strong, and hold out until we can correct our mistake and extract you. In case of dire emergency, we have a man on the inside. Raptian, blue scales, green eyes. Name is Korto. Dispose of anything you can as thoroughly as possible once used.
--Central
-
An...an envelope?
Sitting up straight despite the pain that shot through her, Esha scrambled to grab it, and ripped it open. Her eyes widened at its contents and she dropped them as though they'd burned. Gods! If she was found with any of this, they'd murder her for sure! Looking up at the Raptian, she quickly pulled out the note and read.
And couldn't help letting out a hoarse, bitter laugh.
Extremely unfortunate? Mistake?
Oh...fuck them.
She tossed the letter into the fire pit, knowing it was true--they hadn't foreseen this--but unable to feel anything but angry about it now, and then looked up at Korto. "It's dire now, Korto," she said, swallowing past the knot in her throat. "Get me out. Please."
-
"No can do," Korto said.
"Walls tight. Gates monitored. I'm working by myself here."
The viewport closed.
"Sorry to disappoint."
He walked away, then, footsteps receding into the hallway.
-
"Wait!" Esha said, lunging for the viewport, but it was already closed, his footsteps receding. With a frustrated cry, she slammed her fist on the wall, then turned and slumped tentatively back onto her cot.
She still had so many questions she needed answered.
Mainly, what to do with used syringes and a shiv.
More dire now, though, was that she needed to do something with it all. Rivideans had keen noses and good senses. She had to move fast.
Taking the syringes, she injected both into her shoulder, then tossed those into the fire and hoped they'd melt, or at least get buried in with the ash. The shiv she hid under her cot, and the food...
She wasn't hungry. Not in the least, her appetite gone. But if she left it out, her captors would smell it and know they hadn't given it to her--and it might be the last good meal she'd have for a while. She needed her strength if she was to survive, much less escape.
And so she forced it down, each bite a struggle to keep down and not just heave back up. The painkiller began to set in, and eating became a little easier without pain distracting her, and when she was done, she curled back up on the cot--
And promptly passed out, without even intending to. Without pain, her body relaxed, and the exhaustion crept in powerfully to fill in that void. She slept, and slept deeply, and it was blessedly free of dreams.
-
When morning rolled around, there was a loud banging at Esha's door, a early warning before the door opened. Those two Steggadonians were there, looking as identically malicious as ever.
"Rise and shine, Longear," one of them said.
"Gotta long day ahead of you. Get dressed."
-
Esha jolted awake at that loud bang, and scrambled to a seated position in a flash of fear. Her heart was pounding anew and her ears were up and alert, twitching with tension. The painkiller must have still been in her system because she still felt okay. And by "okay", that was "mostly numb", both inside and out.
She looked up at the Steggadonians and hugged herself. She was dressed, her clothes as clean as she could get them, her panties still lined with that cloth. She was still spotting, and she was glad that, for now at least, she couldn't feel how horrifically sore she was.
Numb though she was, she still felt like she could vomit. The nausea had never abated.
She looked up at them without answering, expression hollow, deciding they could figure out for themselves that she was already dressed and awake.
-
"Come on," one of them growled, and they waited for her to come along before they got moving.
"You're under protection today. Great Warmasta Skerrondus, in his mercy, decided that you're not to be taken today."
"You're still damaged," the other chimed in.
"Still gonna get that practice in, though. So you can... dodge his spear."
-
Esha's heart sank. She knew she could expect no better, but...gods. She had been hoping for at least a little more time to recover, but...at least she wasn't to be taken. Not that this was any better. It was no less a violation, and made her stomach twist all the more.
Practice. She assumed she knew what they meant.
But disobeying was not an option, and she rose to her feet, eternally grateful for the painkiller. Hopefully, there would be more where that came from.
She limped along with the Steggadonians, head down, shoulders slouched in defeat. Whereas before she may have tried talking to them, questioning them, now she just didn't have the energy. She just had to hold out until she was extracted. Just had to survive long enough to get out of here. She held that single thought in her head like a beacon and hoped it would give her the strength to last that long.
-
"Awful quiet today," one of them teased.
"Reckon Skerro taught her nice and good..."
They shared a laugh, and one of them looked back at her. Now that she'd see them from behind, she'd be able to see that they carried these gigantic, multi-barreled revolvers on their rear hips. A matching pair.
"Job's simple for today. Make sure things stay where they are. Clean messes, get a drink to anybody who asks for it. And..."
The other took over from there.
"Suck off anybody who wants it from you. That's your practice. Better do it good, too. Skerro'll hear what happens if you did a bad job. Skerro'll punish you, and then it'll be off to Maddok for ya."
-
Wait.
Clean messes? Get drinks for people?
Esha blinked up at the pair in surprise. She had been anticipating an entirely different situation--like, maybe being tossed into a room, forced to...service...myri ad Rivideans. It seemed the sort of barbaric thing they would do to her. This? This sounded more like a party. No less bleak than what she'd been picturing, but there was at least the slim the chance she could keep herself a little scarce and busy fetching drinks. And if it was a party, she could gather more information. Maybe nothing that would help her, or even help her cause, but...
Gods. She needed a mission. Needed a distraction. Anything to keep her sane. If that was learning a bunch of unimportant facts and listening in on useless gossip, at least it was something. And maybe...maybe she'd see Korto. He was no friend--he'd made that clear--but if she found him, maybe she could convince him to take her off to some secluded space, pretend she was...servicing him, and escape for a while.
Maybe, maybe.
Maybe the Steggadonians would grow wings and fly away.
Right.
Her gut twisted with fresh nerves, her damaged fingers twisting on themselves, and she swallowed hard and looked up at the pair. "Is this...is it a party, sir?"
-
The two Steggadonians registered her words, and shrugged at one another.
"You did it last time."
"That's right, I did."
The one on the left wheeled about and extended an arm, intent on giving Esha a stiff backhand to the cheek.
-
Esha cried out, head snapping back, and she stumbled into the wall and caught herself against it. Tears sprang up in her eyes and she sucked in a shuddering breath as she braced herself. And yet even as her vision blurred, she managed to glare at the brutes.
And here they had mocked her for being quiet.
-
"What'd we say about speaking, slave?" said the one who hit her.
"Don't fucking do it."
They watched her, waiting for her to do something.
"And it's not a party, either. You're pretty unlucky, slave; You're workin' the mansion's guard lounge."
The other chuckled.
"All those strong fighters, relaxin' from their shifts. Lookin' to... Unwind."
"Maybe we'll see you there, slave."
-
Esha went ashen at the news, her ears going back.
...Not a party at all.
This was exactly what she'd been initially fearing. She was literally being tossed to the wolves, then. Tossed to a crowd of soldiers. Her legs turned wobbly and she took a shaky step back, shaking her head.
-
The Steggadonians looked at each other, and then at her. The one on the right cracked his knuckles.
"Now now, slave. Let's not get frisky. Come here."
-
Frisky? She was the opposite of frisky! This wasn't friskiness, this was fear!
She tensed up, eyes moving between them, noting the one cracking his knuckles and feeling that nausea rise in her throat. She had no options here. Get beaten and be tossed into a den to be sexually abused, or just...be sexually abused. Either way, it was still going to happen. She couldn't run from them, and even if she could, there was nowhere to do.
Hugging herself tightly, she drew in a shuddering breath and took a step forward. At this point, it wasn't even about escaping pain. It was only about minimizing it. If that meant one less beating, then...that was about as good as she could hope for.
-
"'Atta girl," the Steggdonian who cracked his knuckles said. The other looped one of his fingers under her collar, and he used that to tug her along as they moved.
-
Esha walked along as he tugged her, keeping pace so she wasn't dragged or choked, her mind racing. Was Korto a soldier? Would he be there? Gods, please say he would; he could still help her, maybe, but there were a million reasons why he might not be there, too, or might not be able to do a thing for her.
But she couldn't help but hope.
And couldn't help but hope that, maybe, there were more Rivideans than just him that were merciful. If he was on their side, helping for whatever reasons he had, didn't that mean there could be others?
Still her chest was painfully tight as they walked, her body a bundle of nerves.
-
Fortunately and unfortunately for Esha, the lounge wasn't her final destination. Because when they rounded a hallway, there was none other than Skerrondus waiting for them. The Steggadonians froze in place, before relaxing. Skerrondus was in his full suit of armor, holding his helmet under one arm and toting some kind of triple-barreled machine gun in the other.
"Boss?"
Skerrondus beamed at the two Steggadonians.
"Change of plans, boys. NutTurna Klan's crossed the line. We're going to war!"
-
Esha froze with the Steggadonians, her heart stopping and chest squeezing with a pent up scream as Skerrondus loomed into view. For a second, she felt fuzzy, faint; maybe he'd changed his mind, maybe he'd decided yesterday wasn't enough. She felt sick, her face going pale, until he spoke.
...War?
With another Klan?
Did that mean...did that mean she didn't have to...?
She swayed a little as relief flooded her, though she knew it might be premature, and was surprised that it was war, of all things, that was giving her that relief.
Thank you, gods.
Of course, there was still the question of what that meant for her--whether she'd be dragged along or remain prisoner here.
-
"Esha's coming with," Skerrondus said, and he took a chain from his belt and latched it right onto her collar.
He pulled her in, nice and close, and put a hand around her neck. He stared down at her, yesterday's events replaying in his mind. From the way he smiled, she'd be able to see just what he was thinking of.
"I've got something to show her..."
-
Pulled in close, Esha's shoulders wanted to hitch up around her ears (which would have been an impressive feat), and her skin utterly crawled. She was tense in his grip and quick to lower her eyes, not wanting to look him in the face, for just the sight sickened her.
And then, his words.
Yesterday was a blur. She remembered much of it--too much--but a lot of it had begin to blur and melt together as her mind rejected it and tried to process it all at once, and sheer agony and misery had blotted out a lot, but she remembered enough. Her breath caught and she tried to shrink back from him, ears laid flat, and finally she gathered the courage to look up at him.
Please don't let it be what she felt it might be...
-
"We're going to have ourselves a hell of a time," Skerrondus said and looked up to the Steggadonians. They smiled, and walked away. Skerrondus took up her chain, and tugged her along, wrapping the chain around his wrist.
He looked back at her, steel teeth gleaming.
"You're coming with me in my WarFortress."
-
What?! Oh gods, but her shiv! It was still under her cot! What if someone cleaned the room and found it?!
More importantly, what if she needed it?
The blood drained from Esha's face as she stumbled along with Skerrondus, feeling like she might sick up all over again. It was bad enough being here with him, but at least she had her cell--that was time away from him. If she went with him...
She might not have any time away from him at all.
Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods...
And yet, she clung desperately to hope. If they went away from here, out of this fortress...maybe she could escape...
And yet, still another chill went through her as she realized with every step she took that she was going farther and farther from Korto, the only ally she had here.
-
Skerrondus tugged Esha along for a solid few minutes. They passed through rooms and courtyards filled with milling soldiers, all gathering about and getting ready. Soldiers left and right, going to armories, garages, and causing an overall ruckus.
Soldiers whooped, hollered, and otherwise got excited, and when they hit the fortress' main courtyard, it was packed with a staggering variety, vehicles of all shapes and sizes, and none the same as the last.
They moved past this, however, and approached a giant garage with Skerrondus' insignia plastered all over it in offensively white paint. Skerrondus raised an arm, and the garage door split and slid apart, revealing the very symbol of the Rividean domination of Jeth.
The Hare Krushinya, in all of its titanic glory, towering over the two of them, a treaded titan, the very same vehicle that crushed the Feylini armed forces. The hull was patched and adorned with pieces of Feylini tanks, and from the main cannon dangled a wreath of Feylini skulls. All of their foreheads were stamped with Skerrondus' insignia.
"Looks different up close, doesn't it?"
-
It was awful, how small, insignificant, and helpless she felt.
You just have to hold out, Esha told herself. Live long enough to get out of here.
But she was afraid she might not make it--or worse, that there might not be much to extract by the time help came.
She felt dazed as she was tugged along, dazed from being just purely overwhelmed, and yet a little dazed from her painkiller, too. At least, she thought it might be the painkiller that left her feeling numb, but maybe that was shock, too. Shock and denial from yesterday, and the fresh shock of what she was seeing today, and what she'd almost been through--and what she might go through yet. So many soldiers. So much wicked technology, much of it plundered from her own people and bastardized.
And when they finally reached their destination and Skerrondus unveiled the grand finale...
Once again, Esha felt her stomach cramp up and breath catch.
She knew that vehicle--that rolling fortress.
She'd seen it all over television when she was younger.
The titan that had turned the tide in their ages long war.
Esha's hand flew to her mouth and she took a step back.
That was who her "master" was?
HIM?
Her heart beat so hard she thought it might fracture her ribs. "It...it was you?"
-
"The one and only, Esha," Skerrondus said, his voice a purr. He tugged her along as he went to stand by the thing's massive treads. He laid a hand on it, claws scraping gently against the rust-speckled metal.
"She roars like the thunders of Harnhalla itself. I remember the day she was first deployed," he said, even as a ladded was lowered down so they could board it.
"Sometimes, I remember the screams from when I drove her through your planet's weakling army. They soothe me."
-
Esha looked away from him and the vehicle both, feeling sick. How many people had those massive treads crushed? How much blood was still crusted in all its little crevices?
She shuddered, hugging herself, and closed her eyes and took a deep breath to push back the awful images that filled her head at his words. He was sick. A true monster...
Gods. Did her people know who they were dealing with? Did they even plan on rescuing her at all, with stakes like these? The thought made her stomach churn, threatening again to empty it of what little she'd eaten.
"They didn't do anything to you," she whispered, shivering.
-
"They stood in my way," Skerrondus said as they entered the driver's area. The place looked more like the bridge of a starship, furthering the image of this place as a giant, rolling fortress. At the center of this bridge, there was another throne, except this one had a steering wheel mounted in front of it. Working one of the consoles was none other than Korto, and he regarded Esha with a moderately friendly glare as Skerrondus brought her in.
Skerrondus hooked her leash to the foot of his throne, so that she'd always be at his feet. He sat down, and put his helmet on.
-
Oh gods, it was Korto.
For a brief moment, Esha met his eyes, her own expression a strange hybrid of panicked and angry. This was the monster that had murdered so many--because they "stood in his way"! And so he'd crushed them. He was a sadist. That much was clear. He knew her kind were no match for his, and he delighted in that sort of pointless domination, delighted in the power trip of torturing something that couldn't fight back.
For that was exactly what he'd done to her--exactly what he and his kind were doing to her. She was no physical match for any of them, yet he lorded that over her in every way he could.
Curling up at the foot of his throne, she hugged herself and shivered, desperately hoping that, at the very least, what the Steggadonians had said still held--that he at least wouldn't be fucking her again for a bit.
And at least they were outside his home. Maybe, out here, there would be more opportunities to escape. Maybe Korto could get her out...
-
Skerrondus sat down in his driver's throne, and he pumped a fist up into the air. The massive engine of the Hare Krushinya came to life, and Esha'd be able to feel the raw power of the death machine as the floor rattled with ignition.
Skerrondus revved it a bit, the rolling fortress sounding like a dragon as toxic black smoke came rolling out of the exhaust pipes. The side turrets came online as the crew members switched them on, and the whole thing got rolling along.
Skerrondus sounded the Krushinya's horn, and it was met with a chorus of beeping and hollering from the assembled warparty of vehicles.
This was not going to a pleasant trip for Esha.
-
As though any part of this had been pleasant.
With a small squeak as everything roared to life and the floor rattled, Esha curled in closer to the throne and grabbed at her ears, pulling them down. All the loud noises hurt her sensitive ears, and that at least closed them off enough to muffle the sounds--at least a little. She clenched her eyes shut as the fortress rolled along, stuck once more in a position where she was just chained in with little more to support her.
-
"I always wonder..." Skerrondus started, and before he said anything else, he gunned the Krushinya's engine. Ton upon ton of mashed together steel, guns, and hatred lurched forward on its treads, set upon its warpath.
He gave a hand motion, and shutters on the windows fell down, and the place fell into blessed quiet. Truly, the only indication that they were still moving was the rattling of the ground. Lights came on inside, and the interior consoles lit up.
Before the invasion of Jeth, the Hare Krushinya was a crude beast, something that was able to crush the Feylini merely by its size and durability alone. Now, however, with sleek Feylini tech awkwardly kludged up against rusty, Rividean construction, she was smart as well. Skerrondus attached a single-eye visor of Feylini design to his helmet. The dented white steel contrasting with black iron. It let him see where he was steering, which was why the cockpit's shutters were all closed.
"Why was it we crushed you Longears so quickly. Can you guess?"
Skerrondus looked down at Esha, and pulled her chain up.
"Guess."
-
Esha didn't want to speak to him. She curled in tighter on herself, a chill going down her spine as the shutters fell and left them fairly secluded. But she kept her eyes clenched shut, trying to go elsewhere, trying to take her mind off the situation and where she was and who she was with.
It only lasted so long, for soon he was pulling at her chain. She let out a choked gasp and rose to her knees, her eyes snapping open as she stared up at the monster.
She grabbed at the chain, trying to take some of the pressure off her neck. "Because we're not monsters," she managed to grind out from between clenched teeth.
-
At her answer, Skerrondus smiled.
"Precisely."
With a lurch, the Krushinya started to move, and a looted Feylini tactical projector mounted on the ceiling sprung to life. The Krushinya, the vehicles moving in its formation, and the surrounding landscape were all simulated.
He dropped her at his feet.
-
With a grunt, Esha plopped back down and rubbed at her neck beneath the collar. Still she glowered up at Skerrondus, hating him as much as she feared him--perhaps more.
"And you enjoy that? You enjoy being a monster?" she said, ears back. The projection flickered around her, but she ignored it, instead staring up at him. "Why?"
-
"Rividea is a planet of monsters. Around here, the only way to survive is to take what you want."
He laughed, and started to pet her.
"A soft longear like you would never understand."
-
Esha cringed at his touch, but bit back her knee-jerk impulse to pull away. She knew if she resisted, it would likely only get worse, and right now he was being gentle even if his touch felt slimy and vile. Right now, he was just talking, not hurting her. She wanted him to stay in such a mild mood for as long as possible.
She shivered and licked her dry lips. "Sur...survival of the fittest. Evolution. I, um, I...I learned about that in school..." she said lamely, swallowing down her fear. "I...understand it...its basics, at least. But it doesn't have to be like that. Is it...does it actually make you happy being feared and hated?"
-
"I don't care if I'm hated or feared."
He stopped petting her, but his hand remained. His hand tightened on her head, reminding her that all it would take was a thought, and he could break her neck.
"All I care about is keeping my warband running, and being in charge."
He pushed her head away from him, and straightened up on his seat a bit.
"Now quit your talking, before I find something to quit it for you with."
-
Wisely, Esha took the hint and curled away from him, as much as the chain would allow, her skin still crawling from his touch--and the unspoken promise that he could kill her whenever he felt like it.
If she displeased him, if she upset him in any way...
That was all it would take.
She bit her lip, her chest tightening in another familiar wave of grief and panic, but she looked away and blinked hard against the burn in her eyes. How stupid, to think she could find even a hint of mercy in such a monster, that she could reason with a beast that murdered and raped without a thought.
Gods...
"Yes, sir," she mumbled.
-
Skerrondus smiled at her submissiveness, and turned his attention to the tactical simulation.
"We're clear of Da Krag," Korto said, and Skerrondus nodded. Despite her current situation, Esha had a stellar opportunity for gathering information. After all, she was the first Feylini to ever step into Skerrondus' nerve center.
"Warm up the guns."
Another Raptian attending a terminal leaned towards a microphone, and spoke Rividean into it. A holographic display of the Krushinya appeared, and all of the weapons were highlighted.
-
That was...a lot of weapons.
Esha's keen eyes took it all in as they roved along, watching the holographic display and studying it. She had nothing else to occupy her but her own horrific memories--and for now, she fought to keep that and the accompanying fear at bay. She had to focus. Focus on what was right in front of her. She had to remember that, despite whatever horrors she'd experienced so far, she was here, in Skerrondus's bloody warship.
And thought some large part of her doubted she would ever see home again, the part of her still clinging to hope, still hanging onto Korto's words, knew that this was an opportunity.
And that if she ever did escape, she would take everything she'd learned here--and fucking destroy this monster.
So she sat quietly, arms looped around her knees and fighting back shivers of fear, and took to watching and observing.
-
The Krushinya rolled along for several minutes, the other vehicles in the war party following along in a loose, formation. However, if Esha had an eye for tactics, she'd be able to see that there was a pattern to it. Vehicles in the formation seemed to keep a certain amount of space from each other, and they formed a sort of zig-zag line.
Whether it was coincidence, an actual display of Rividean combat tactics, or Skerrondus' own personal design, was yet to be seen.
One of the other raptians manning the Krushinya's controls turned back to face Skerrondus.
"We got NutTurna Klannies comin' in on the long range, boss," The raptian hissed out, and Skerrondus nodded.
"Switch 'er to vish," Skerrondus grunted, and a rather comprehensive visual of the area in front of the Krushinya.
There were several incoming vehicles in the distance. Many of them were mounted with giant swiveling claws and repurposed construction equipment. Skerrondus observed for a few moments, before he sat back in his seat. He placed a hand on Esha's head, stroking her ears while he thought.
"Tell the boys to loosen up. Sideswipin' em's suicide," Skerrondus said.
-
Oh gods. Esha tensed at what she heard--and what she saw-- because from the sounds of it, this was about to be a skirmish. Her ears twitched ubder Skerrondus's hand, her stomach churning at the contact--and the upcoming violence.
But she took deep breaths and kept her eyes on the screen. Maybe it was just a silly kind of hope, but maybe...just maybe...
Mahbe she could learn something about hiw he fought. How THEY fought.
And what worked best to defeat them.
-
It wasn't long before the nightmare of combat started. The Krushinya was the first vehicle to fire, and the main cannon's thunderous roar heralded the instant obliteration of one of the incoming vehicles, and then the true cacophony began. Gunfire from the Krushinya, gunfire from the vehicles around it, it was all she'd be able to hear. Cannons, machine guns, haphazardly mounted lasers, everything.
And it was coming from the other side as well. Weapon fire impacted the hull of the Krushinya, and both forces got closer and closer.
The fight had only just begun.
-
Esha felt like she should have been more afraid than she was. And yet, she couldn't muster up the ability to be afraid, because the worst had already happened. She had wound up Skerrondus's captive, and she couldn't really think of anything that could top that. Besides, it was Skerrondus. He had a reputation of being unbeatable. If he could conquer her planet, she didn't think he would have much of a problem obliterating this gang.
Part of her hoped she would be proven wrong. That Skerrondus would fall today, that this vehicle would explode. She knew what it would mean for her, but gods.
She didn't want to die, but she couldn't deny it wouldn't be an escape.
Unfortunately, she couldn't make much sense of their tactics; to her, it looked like chaos, like there wasn't even much strategy involved at all so much as just sheer brute force. Biting her lip, she gripped the chain connecting her to Skerrondus's throne, needing something to hold onto as the whole thing swayed and jarred and bounced.
-
And yet, even as it all seemed to be chaos, Rividean tactics started to show a pattern once vehicles got in close quarters. Squadrons of smaller vehicles loaded down with boarders would try to make close-combat assaults on the larger vehicles, who had their own escort cars. Larger vehicles were the ones making the big hits, running into others with rams and sideswiping them with side-mounted implements. The only vehicle that seemed to break this pattern was the Krushinya, which was simply too big to the bothered, crushing and running over anything smaller than itself.
The Feylini, modernized and acclimated to long-range engagements and organized tactical movements, were defeated by the simple fact that they couldn't defend themselves at close range and couldn't account for unpredictable and sometimes suicidal Rividean tactics.
Also, it helped that the Rivideans had no concept of "rules of engagement."
Skerrondus' warband had the upper hand from the very start of the fight, but things took an interesting turn when the Krushinya impacted the enemy lead vehicle, causing it to lodge in the Krushinya's ram. Boarders started pouring out of the stuck vehicle, and Skerrondus stood from his throne, picking up the same blade he'd used to murder Peg-Leg.
He turned to Korto, and motioned to Esha.
"Watch her."
and like that, he was out of the cockpit, running down the Krushinya's length to join in the brutal melee that was forming on the front of it.
-
Indeed, there was order in the chaos, and Esha soon began to pick up the patterns. So that was how they did it. Sheer numbers, brute force, and suicidal tactics. They won because they weren't afraid of dying, of sacrificing themselves. They won because they were mad and had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Up close and personal was where they excelled.
How many had already died in this battle alone?
Ironic as it was, Esha found she would probably be far more afraid of their attackers if she wasn't riding with Skerrondus. How could a beast that had conquered a world be taken down by this little gang? It looked bad, especially when their assailants began to board, but she found she felt nothing. Skerrondus would slaughter them all. Just as he had done to so many others.
Why did they even bother to fight him?
The thought spilled into her mind, and her eyes widened. Gods, she couldn't start thinking like that. If she started thinking like that, it would mean she had given up--and she couldn't give up.
She couldn't.
And she knew she had better hope that Skerrondus didn't make a mistake, because she at least knew what he would do to her. She didn't know what would happen if she fell into the hands of others.
Soon she found herself alone with Korto, and she twisted where she sat to look up at him, eyes wide. Alone. Finally. They hadn't had much time at all to speak before, and she latched onto the chance now.
"Korto," she whispered, just loud enough to carry to him--hopefully.
-
Indeed, while Skerrondus had left his control room to fend off boarders, Esha wasn't exactly alone in there either. Korto wasn't the only Rividean on the Krushinya's controls, as it took a crack team of at least four to direct the systems and targeting orders for the main weapons.
Another piece of technology stolen straight from the Feylini.
Fortunately, Korto was the only one to hear her. He looked back to the other Rivideans, and then to her, although he was still operating his station.
"What?" he whispered.
-
Esha shot a look to the others, who seemed distracted enough, and kept her voice quiet.
"What now? Where are we going?"
-
Korto opened his mouth to answer, but something flashed on his screen. His attention immediately snapped to that, and he pressed a few keys. The frame of the Krushinya shuddered as the main cannon fired, a sound not too distant from raging thunder, and a distant enemy vehicle was reduced to a smoldering crater and scattering vehicle parts.
From the surveillance cameras placed around the Krushinya, Esha would also be able to see how the boarding action at the front of the vehicle was going. it was a pitched fight, akin more to a bar fight with deadly weapons than any form of civilized or organized combat. Skerrondus joined the fight, pushing past his own men to get to the front.
After that, it was no longer a pitched fight. An enemy raptian found himself impaled on Skerrondus' rippa, and his limbs continued to spasm even as he was tossed screaming and bleeding over the side. Skerrondus was a terrifying sight, and the enemy fighters seemed to inconvenience him about as much as individual blades of grass inconvenience a lawn mower.
-
Esha yelped and covered her ears at the cannon fire, and stared in disbelief at the smoldering ruins left in its wake. Oh gods. This was how Jeth had been conquered. Sheer, fanatical, suicidal brute force and chaos. When the other side wasn't afraid to die, wasn't afraid of who or what they destroyed, and had numbers to throw away, it made it significantly harder to face them.
And Skerrondus...
He was a bloody force of nature.
Esha covered her mouth, feeling ill at the gore, but couldn't look away. How did you fight an enemy like this? An enemy bigger, stronger, and more insane than your people? She didn't let herself look away, even as she wanted to vomit. She couldn't. The least she could do here was hold onto the hope that she could escape--and once she did, anything she could bring back about Skerrondus, about their fighting styles, about their technology, would be invaluable.
-
The fight against the boarders didn't last much longer than a minute. Skerrondus' presence bolstered his men and made the enemy falter, and before anybody could even run away, the very last enemy's head went bouncing off the Krushinya's deck.
Skerrondus cracked his neck, and started walking back, and before long, the door to the control center opened. He stood for a few moments, armor damn near painted with blood. A stray bullet bounced off his shoulder plate, and he barely acknowledged it with a glance back out the door before he stepped in.
He took a seat, setting his gore-covered sword down against his seat, and for a few moments, he seemed set on ignoring her. Suddenly, his head turned to face her, eye slits betraying no emotion, and he motioned towards himself.
-
It ended as quickly as it began, and Esha tensed all the more when Skerrondus came marching back her way. Her ears went back, her eyes widening at the sight of so much blood, like he had bathed himself in it, and she shrank as far away from him as the chain would allow as he took his seat, her knees pressed into her chest and arms hugging them fiercely.
He had basically single-handedly dealt with all those boarders...and hadn't even flinched at the bullet glancing off his armor. Gods, why couldn't it have lasted just a little longer? Provided just a little extra distraction? She needed to talk to Korto, but who knew when she'd get the chance again.
Her heart beat wildly as she sat there, the stench of blood overpowering her senses. And then, suddenly, he motioned to himself, and she jumped, her throat tightening in budding dread.
"...Y-yes, master?"
-
"Come a little closer," he said, and he took off his helmet again. He motioned towards himself, but suddenly, Korto spoke up.
"Warmasta, Nutturna boss is peelin' off," he said, and in a moment, Esha was forgotten. Skerrondus stood right up off his seat and stood by the Raptian's station, viewing the screen intently.
"Send one of the wings after 'im," he commanded.
Another Raptian on the controls spoke up, this time at the sensor station.
"Zoomas comin' up!"
There was a moment of quiet apprehension as Skerrondus' eyes widened only slightly. It wasn't fear by any stretch of the imagination, perhaps more like a predator recognizing that his prey had fangs as well.
A smattering of bullets came crashing through the ceiling and the hull rumbled as something went screaming overhead, and the guns visible from the control center turned upwards.
-
Closer? Esha's heart sank. The way he was looking at her...he couldn't mean...?
Korto saved the day, however, and she wondered if he realized he had. Her sense of relief was temporary, though--because then shit hit the fan. Again.
With a cry, Esha dove down and curled up small, covering her head with her hands as though that would protect her from bullets. Wings, he'd said. They had flying artillery? Of course they did...they stole Feylini tech, after all...
Still staying low, she peeked out from between her fingers at the scene unfolding. She had to keep observing, no matter what. She wanted nothing more than to hide, but there was nowhere to go--and this was the only way she could be useful, for herself and for others.
-
A small group of vehicles peeled off of the formation to chase the fleeing command vehicle, all the while the remaining ones (including the krushinya) turned their guns upward and engaged with a threat from the sky. Fighter craft that left trails of black smog in their wake zoomed through the air, dodging about and doing plenty of shooting of their own.
Skerrondus himself snarled and moved back to his throne, picking up a machine gun the size of Esha with three barrels on it and stepped back outside.
He yelled and jeered in Rividean as he opened fire, not caring just how deafening his own gun was.
-
Oh gods, I'm going to die. The thought flashed through Esha's mind, not for the first time by any means and not for the last. Her life was in perpetual jeopardy here, and maybe, maybe if this was how it happened...maybe it would be a mercy. Blown up by heavy artillery would be a far cleaner, quicker way to go than the torture and tearing that Skerrondus was capable of.
But that didn't mean she was ready to give up yet, either. She had her mission. And she had a will to live, too.
It just didn't feel like it would ever end.
She stayed curled where she was, her wide eyes taking in all the stolen tech, tech she hadn't realized they'd stolen. They had aircraft now? That was valuable, terrifying information.
She whimpered as explosions went off around her, wincing and pulling on her ears as though that could help muffle the sounds, but her hearing was sensitive and the sound was deafening, her ears already ringing as she cowered in place.
-
Skerrondus fired for what seemed like forever, sometimes cursing between bursts of his machine gun, the flyer proving to be difficult, unpredictable targets.
Indeed, the influx of Feylini materials and tech had caused a new wave of Rividean warfare as clans and warbands decided to test their new toys out on the eternal battlefields of Rividea.
Skerrondus fired until an explosion shook the side of the Krushinya, and SKerrondus rushed back inside, narrowly avoiding the explosion as an erratic missile from the aircraft struck the hull. The aircraft were little more than armored, super-charged rocket engines with armaments and wings with control surfaces.
"Corto!" Skerrondus barked, smoke curling in behind him until he sealed the door. He stepped over to the throne, and sat back down, sparing Esha a glance.
"Get the Acky runnin'! An' hand me the gatla on the top side."
Corto jumped into action. It seemed the blue raptian was gifted with an aptitude for advanced technology, as he processed Skerrondus' commands with admirable efficiency. A holographic video screen gave Skerrondus a view from one of the weapons mounted on the top hull, and Esha would be able to feel the vibrations as the weapon fired. Skerondus used a combination of a targeting eyepiece and a control stick mounted on one of the arms of his throne.
SKerrondus laughed after a few moments, evidently pleased with his handiwork, and spoke.
"One O' you get Klerra on the horn. Tell 'er to sweep 'er wagon about, clean up those carcasses. We're almost done here."
-
Esha didn't understand a word of the tech jargon, if that's what it even was, but Corto did--and that was also useful information. The raptian had a knack for that, and Skerro clearly trusted and valued him to have him here in this place. Which...made her wonder. Who was he? And why was he helping her? How did that even happen that he would be on the Feylini side?
Which also meant...he was risking a lot, here.
Trembling, Esha's ears perked slightly when Skerro said they were almost done. The fighting was almost done? They'd made it out alive? And though she was grateful to be almost in the clear, a dark part of her was disappointed. Had his war machine even suffered much damage from that seemingly endless barrage?
What would it take to stop it?
She stayed curled where she was, ears covered and eyes wide, trying to make herself small and unseen. As much as the fighting had been a nightmare, in a sick way it had also been a blessing. Any time his attention was off of her was a small mercy.
-
Skerrondus spoke up, idly thumbing the chain attached to Esha's neck but not pulling on it yet. His other hand was still on the control stick, and he panned it about before sitting back, taking the headgear off.
"And just like that, another bunch'a runts made inna grass food. Corto, you've got the treads," he started, and Corto nodded. The Krushinya snarled and lurched forwards again. If there was any significant damage to the supertank then nobody here seemed to acknowledge it or even care.
Corto looked back from his console to Skerrondus.
"I don't thinks they were ready for us, boss. Whaddaya reckon they were doin' here?"
Skerrondus shrugged, and looked down to Esha, keeping his eyes on her as he spoke.
"I think ya should get the war trucks on the screamer, tell 'em to fish out any Nutturnas they find. We can put the screws to 'em later," he said, the anticipation of violence ringing clear in his voice.
And then, he spoke directly to Esha.
"Why ya so scared, longear? It's just war. Come on over and sit on Skerro's lap, you'll feel right real quick," he said in a purr, and he started to loop her chain around his wrist.
-
Just war? It was a massacre, with—if she’d deciphered his slang right—the possibility of torturing POWs, and he was acting like it was just a fun little segue! How the fuck they managed to ruin her planet when they were so busy ruining each other, she had no clue. But she didn’t have time to ponder that when he spoke words that sent a chill down her spine, and the chain drew taut.
Esha resisted as long as she could, bracing herself against the pull before it started to choke her, and only then did she cave. She shot a helpless look toward Corto, belly twisting sickeningly because he was so near, her contact to the outside—but nothing could be done. He couldn’t help her, at least not now. And if Skerrondus was going to torture her...
Gods, she didn’t want him around that.
Ears flat against her head, she crawled into Skerro’s lap as she was pulled and sat cautiously at the edge of his knee, desperately trying to keep space between them. Her mind raced, searching for a distraction. She didn’t know what he wanted, whether he just wanted a lap dog or wanted something...else... but she didn’t want to find out. Distractions and delays were the only weapon she had, and so far even that had been ineffective.
“I...I didn’t grow up fighting amongst my own people, master,” she said quietly, deciding to answer his question. “I knew war. But I’m no soldier. Why do your people fight?”
-
She perched on the edge of his lap and Skerrondus was quick to pull her against him until her back touched his chest plate. He put an arm around her middle, holding her like the property she was to him. He grinned like a bastard the whole time, his steel-shod fangs catching the light quite well.
"I fight to live. I stomp necks because if I didn't, somebody woulda stomped my neck first. But now?"
A hand drew up to her breast, where he squeezed it, and he smiled wider.
"This planet's mine. Your planet's mine. My klan grows bigga and bigga, and now there's just some weedy dissentas left to mop up. Rivideans who dunno who the strongest is and longears who don't know their place yet."
He chuckled.
"They's gonna step in line or go screamin' under my treads. An' when more ships is done, I'm gonna do the same to another planet, and anotha affer that. It's all mine already, they jus' don't know it yet."
-
No, no, no. Pulled fully into his lap with her back pressed against his chest, Esha went stiff, her breath coming a little faster and heart beating a bit quicker. Every part of her cringed against the contact, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a pained sound as he squeezed her breast. Not that she could have made much noise to begin with, with her throat constricting in fear. It made it difficult to breathe, much less think--and she needed a cool head now more than ever.
Or did she? Was that just what she kept telling herself, in an effort to keep herself sane and hopeful? Telling herself she still needed to keep her wits about her, because...because things might turn around? Because she still had a job to do, and could still be useful? Could still be saved?
Because she needed to believe that all of this, everything, would be for something?
She held perfectly still, like a rabbit frozen under the eyes of a fox, and shot another look Corto's way. Skerrondus wouldn't...do anything right here, right? Gods, please no.
"There's a saying I've heard," she finally managed to say, voice a little raspy with panicked breathlessness. "There's always a bigger fish. You're someone else's guppy. What happens when you finally meet a shark? Planet hopping like that...you're just looking for your doom."
-
Skerrondus paid no mind to Esha’s contained sounds or her cringing against him. Besides, her scent betrayed her, along with the movements she wasn’t able to contain. If Skerrondus had suddenly started to find her displeasure bothersome, he wasn’t showing it. Instead, after he’d gotten his brief fill of fleshy dalliances, his arm came to rest across her lap and he used his other arm to switch on some communications equipment before gripping the top of Krushinya’s steering wheel.
”Great Warmasta, we’s got upturned NutTurnas all ova’. Too many to bring back,” came a female Rividean’s voice.
“Take your wing about. Pick up the drivers, the oilers. Leave the others to walk back home,” he growled with a growing smile.
“And the metal?”
Skerrondus’ finger started drumming a bored rhythm on Esha’s lap.
“Bullets and fuel. Burn the rest of that NutTurna junk.”
The radio cut off, and Skerrondus grinned to himself.
As he was talking, Esha’s glance towards Corto would find that he was looking sidelong in her direction as well. Not at her, but at Skerrondus himself, as if his narrowed glance could strike the warlord dead right then and there. His gaze lowered to meet Esha’s for a brief moment, and he nodded reassuringly. Skerrondus was done talking then, and so Corto’s attention returned to his station.
“And tell me, my dear little Esha, how do you think I got to this point?” He started, hand rising from her lap to brush the flat of a talon along her chin and lift her gaze to him, although if she turned her gaze away he wouldn’t force her to look.
“I’ve lived my entire life surrounded by the big fish. If one day, we find a people that can squash us like bugs, it won’t be long before their strength is our own. They may break us, they may free the Feylini. They may even drive us into extinction. Or maybe, just maybe… the guppy will tear out the shark’s throat.”
He clenched his free hand in the air.
“Your technology, your numbers, all your satellites, and starships, and all those little defense cannons perched up around Jeth, meant nothing. Your resistance means nothing, your leaders mean nothing. If one day, Jeth rises back up to tear out Rividea’s throat…”
He paused, smiling as his hand stroked her lap gently.
“Then our peoples will have more in common than ever. And I cannot wait for that day.”