“I came a very long way to find you," he growls. “Most of the korabi on my planet do not believe that you exist. You would have gotten away with this crime entirely if not for me.”
“Crime?”
“You killed a korabi female who was auditioning to be part of the king’s harem. I do not think the purpose of the attack was to slay her as much as it was to send a message to her people. But you will fill those details in for me, won’t you? You will tell me everything I want to know, because I am the only creature on this world, or any other, who knows what to do with these wet holes of yours.”
He speaks so cruelly, this alien. He must be alien. He is not of this world, and he is certainly not of any world close to ours. He commits unspeakable heinous acts without considering any of the consequences. I do not think he is afraid of the law. I doubt he is afraid of anything.
"Tell me why you did it.”
“Why I did… I didn’t.”
“You continue to lie to me. It cannot be because you do not understand what I am capable of, as I just cut your life partner into a thousand pieces. You must be concerned that I will do even worse to you.”
“I am concerned," I whimper. I am very concerned. But I am also caught up in a strange state of flight or fight, in which my blood is pounding in my ears, and the potential for death is present, but it does not seem to matter as much as it would if I was sitting on this couch reading a book. There is something about being bent over, spanked, and thoroughly dominated which makes every bit of life skew itself into new configurations. I am feeling a rush of aliveness like no other.
“You are not,” he observes. “Little killer that you are. Where is your korabi suit? Did the scythkin take it from you? Do they deliver fresh ones with each assignment?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar!” He slaps me hard, not just across the ass, but between my thighs as well, his massive alien fingers catching the seam of my lips, punishing the sensitive little guardians of my sex. “You stink of guilt and need.”
He's not wrong. I am guilty of so many things. I am guilty of not mourning the man I promised to love… though I suppose it was only a vow until death did us part, and death has parted us most definitively.
I feel him lean over me, the bulk of his body pressing me into the upholstery and threatening to drive the breath from my lungs. “I will tear the truth from you, Margaret. I will make you tell me everything you know, and so many other things besides.”
I cannot tell him anything. Not a single word may pass my lips. I have been sworn to a thousand secrets and each of them will go to the grave with me and poor Mark.
He growls. I feel his frustrated rage rumbling through my flesh, making my bones dance in response. The monsters always think the weak will make it easy, but the weak are so much harder to break than they think. I am accustomed to sliding the essential parts of myself away from the cruelty of the world. Whatever he touches now will be a decoy, a fleshy shield, something I can sacrifice. It will not be me.
“You should be used,” he snarls into my ear. “You should be spread open and filled, taken in every hole you have.”
The crudeness of his speech is almost as foreign to my ears as the accented language which I understand, but in a very odd way. It is as if there is some connection between us, a channel which can carry language across it.
“Please, don’t do this to me.” I am begging for mercy I do not want. In the presence of a creature as terrifying as this one, there can be no real understanding of consequences or threat. I want him. I want him because my biology tells me to want him, because I have had the switch thrown in my head, the one buried deep in the almost animal part of my brain. He knows about it. He knows about me. He knows what I want, and what I need.
I feel him free his cock. Mark was the only man who ever had me before this moment. Now I am feeling new flesh against my most intimate regions. This alien beast will not respect me or the vows I took. It does not care for or understand human carnal conventions. It follows animal desire without any care for anything besides its own desires.
“Argh!”
It is inside me, thick, ridged alien flesh burying itself in my tightest, wettest interior. I let out a helpless cry, followed by a wail and a whimper. Mark was often careless and rough with me. He did not care about my pleasure. He would fumble and then shove himself into me. This alien monster, this terrifying killer is different. He had me wet before he sank into me and defiled my flesh. Now my inner walls are gripping him eagerly. My hips are rising instinctively toward him again and again, hot wetness enveloping his alien rod.