Deviant control, p.4
Deviant Control, page 4
part #3 of The Controllers Series
Tonight, the rich aroma of roasted beans was absent, and the walls were painted in blood.
Hours had passed since I was taken from the drop door, and during this time I had listened to the tormented screams of prisoners being questioned.
Questions that some had not survived.
I had fought, demanded, cursed, and called them the monsters that they were. They’d laughed and continued their heinous games.
I was numb now; my soul had crawled into a dark corner of my mind and was unwilling to come back out. The impotence of this experience held me in a stranglehold.
They were trained soldiers, made freakishly strong by the addition of exoskeletons. I was an Omega, weak and bound, and like my fellow prisoners, at their mercy. And they were merciless.
I began to doubt that rescue would come.
And I believed myself unworthy.
It was almost a relief when they took us from the hospital reception because it brought a stop to the torture. Soon after, it dawned upon me that I was being herded somewhere worse. Hustled into ground transports, we were driven through the darkness.
Our destination was unknown, lost behind a crowded, jostling mass of prisoners and soldiers. With my small stature, I strained to see, until I finally caught a glimpse.
A ship?
As I saw the ramp, I fought again. Wishing I had fought harder, sooner, because once I was on board, I knew hope was lost. And I could have wept for my stupidity, for my naïvety, but still, I would not have wanted that poor young soldier to have died to save me. I could not help what I was, nor my fierce, hopeless desire to protect.
By my own admission, I was quite useless in this quest.
Heedless to my struggles, they dragged me up the ramp, landing enough sound blows to subdue me, and making me so flush with excess blood that my entire body trembled.
With the fellow prisoners, I was directed into the hold where a section had been caged off and shoved inside. They removed our cuffs as we entered, so I presumed we would be here for a while.
Two of the women were missing, the pretty ones. They must have separated them during transit, and my eyes strained in the darkened space. Not here. Dead then, or someone’s toy.
Silent tears trickled down my cheeks. None of us spoke. Like me, my fellow prisoners stared blankly at the floor or watched the activity within the giant hold with hooded, wary eyes.
Imprisonment gave rise to reluctant enlightenment; I hadn't understood the reality of war. I’d been closeted from it all my life, watching the horrors from afar and thinking myself informed. And I had attempted to stop the viral program, subtly, but still, I had attempted to subvert that path. That tiny virus had much to answer for. The Copper virus had been the catalyst for war. Now it was our only edge against this monstrous Uncorrupted war-machine.
Wrapping my arms around my body, I rocked, feverish, high, and wondering if I would ever come down. Outside our pen, enemy soldiers trooped in steady streams, moving equipment, and stores. A cluster of soldiers gathered near our cage and fell into a discussion.
What would happen to me? This ship was still grounded, but what would happen after we took off? I shuddered as I thought of the terrible reports of experiments on dynamics.
Truth or propaganda?
Propaganda, and a little truth, I suspected. Then there were the rumors, of a Singular who had defected to our enemy, seeking to bring about peace. That was several years ago. Some said she was dead. Some said it was our government who held her in isolation, her views too heretical to be allowed voice. And some said she never wanted peace and now lived among our enemy where she plotted to bring about our downfall.
Fundamentally, I could not believe the Uncorrupted wanted peace, not after today.
And I did not believe an Omega could plot anyone’s downfall.
Right and wrong had become lost to me. I was an Omega now, but before my change, my part in this had been clear. I had supported the experiments, had honed and developed them. And then what? I developed a conscious that riled against the displacement of power because of how it impacted Omegas—because I was one.
An Omega mind could not be trusted. I had been told this often enough, both before and after I became one. I didn’t want to be this way anymore. I wanted to be me, the old me, the younger me, who’d had a clear vision on how I might help against this ravenous, bloodthirsty war-beast that wanted to tear our civilization apart.
The clarity of purpose which I had once known, was long gone. The virus had changed me, and I could not be changed back.
Thirsty, I licked my lips, and picked at the scab on my neck. A wet, sticky trickle of blood escaped. No one was paying attention, and I picked deeper, shivering as the trickle increased. There was such bliss in even this tiny release of pressure that I bit my lip to hide a moan.
It did not flow for long. My body would coagulate the blood and repair the broken tissue at an accelerated rate. It needed to be drawn from me—to be sucked out. Extracting blood for the tests and experiments had always been a struggle. Whatever was inserted, and whatever incision was made, my body sought to seal or block it. Eventually, after much trial and error, Doctor Tsing had developed a suction tool that mimicked the sucking cadence, and this had been more effective. It had been hard to calibrate though, too strong and I blacked out, too little force and my throat sealed. My body seemed to change what it needed, what worked one day did not work the next.
My body did not like the unnatural silicone used, and I had shied away from allowing anyone to take it directly until I knew more. Besides, the act of someone placing their mouth against my throat was unquestionably intimate. Doctor Tsing had leveled accusations about my lack of professional impartiality.
He was right.
He isn’t my friend anymore, I reminded myself. Not since I became an Omega. I knew he met with my father regularly, that my former friend and research partner was now spying on me.
My judgment was skewed, but I clung to the last of my small power since it was the only power I held. I was unique, more so than most Singulars. It might take many years to understand the nuances of my alteration, and I wanted the right to understand them for myself.
A disturbance emanated from the far side of the cavern-like room, dragging me from my brooding. The soldiers standing outside our cage, turned as a new team of six arrived. At the front of this new group was a man who towered over the rest. Wearing a lighter armor, he emanated menace despite lacking the exoskeleton advantage some of the others had. He was handsome in the way one might imagine the devil to be. If raw, otherworldly power could be compressed into living flesh, it would create such a man.
Not a man, a god—a war god—and he was staring straight at me.
“I want the Omega,” he said.
My rocking stopped, and a sickly, churning sensation swept through me in a rush.
“You can’t have her,” the blond man answered. It was the man I had been taken to when they first found me, and I presumed he was a leader here of sorts. “What the fuck are you doing here? You had orders to—”
“I can smell her, and I want her,” the war god stated, his focus swinging from me to the mortal who had dared to question him.
“Are you listening?” the smaller man said. “I found her, and she is mine until a ruling.”
“Then I challenge you,” the war god said, tone bored. His eyes shifted to me again. My breath caught in my throat. It was a look of ownership, like he had already won the fight.
“You’re challenging me? Are you insane? We’re in the middle of an operation!”
“It’s our way,” the war god said, and his eyes narrowed on his quarry. “Are you denying me my right?”
“He does have the right, operation or not,” another man said. “We will bear witness. Disable the exoskeleton.”
“Don’t bother,” the war god said.
He barely reacted when the first blow came, his head went with it before re-centering. Reaching out, he caught hold of the smaller man, and with fingers splayed around his skull, he jerked him close. A scream followed, shrill and prolonged. His prey convulsed, blood pouring as thumbs pressed into an eye socket and mouth. There was a sudden pop, and the entire jaw sprung free, ripping half the throat with it and sending a great fountain of blood arcing.
He dropped the broken pieces to the floor.
My breathing became a shallow pant, and my eyes stretched so wide they hurt.
Turning, he faced me once more. Blood dripped from his chin, and a trail of gore splattered across his chest. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “Open the lock,” he said.
My mind emptied as I heard the sound of a lock disengaging. I looked down, my eyes searching the ground for a miracle escape hatch. No such hatch appeared, and the footsteps drew ever nearer until gray, blood-splattered boots entered my periphery.
He crouched before me, so huge he filled every corner of my vision. Fingers wrapped around my chin to tip my face. “Open your eyes,” he commanded.
I did, and I saw the moment when he noted my dilated pupils, his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.
Was I dead and was this hell? His face was hard, but his lips were full, and they curled gently up on one side. It was a wicked smile, and it promised wicked things.
His gaze held mine for several seconds before it lowered to my bloody throat. He made a tutting noise, and his big hand lifted my trembling one for his inspection. A rough thumb rubbed back and forth over the blood crusted tips of my fingers—a thumb he had just used to rip another man apart.
Sucking a sharp breath in, I tried to shrink away.
His fingers tightened over mine, his smile bloomed into something terrifyingly sinister. “What a naughty little Omega,” he rumbled. “You don’t touch your neck again. That pleasure belongs to me.”
He stood, taking me with him, a big hand wrapping around the back of my neck. I went, too stupefied by events to fully react as we walked along corridors until we arrived at a room.
Inside was a small space, a cot, and wash facility, and lighting that offered a perpetual state of gloom.
As the door closed on us, he fisted my hair with one hand, my waist with the other, and dragged me up the wall until my face was level with his. Instinctively, I clung, legs wrapping about him. His eyes held mine for a moment before his mouth lowered to my throat. My panic spiked a split second before he bit, breaking the delicate skin. I screamed and thrashed, but he held me easily.
Dots swam before my eyes with the first vigorous pull. It hurt so badly, a sharp stinging pinch that morphed into a dreadful ache. So much blood came out. I felt it leaving me in a rush, felt like he was sucking out my soul.
As I heard him swallow that mouthful down, my stomach turned over.
“Oh god!”
He sucked even deeper, adjusting his hold on me and angling my neck for better access. There was so much blood, and it came freely under his steady pulls. He kept drinking, kept me pinned there against the wall, gulping great mouthfuls and making a deep rumble in his chest that stirred a flutter in my stomach, and lower, a slickness between my legs.
The pressure that had pounded in my skull dissipated. More dots swam before my eyes and tingles enveloped my fingers and toes, swarming up, higher, until I was sure I would black out.
As abruptly as he had taken, he stopped, licking languidly at my stinging throat. I felt blood trickle between the licks, and he growled softly, swiping his tongue over the tender flesh. My mind was swimming, and I could not assimilate what had just happened.
The rough rasp of his tongue against my throat slowed, and he shifted me in his hold. Lifting me away from the wall, he carried me to the narrow cot where he lay me down. In the absence of the abominable stress, I felt lethargic and giddy. I heard the fabric tear, felt a waft of air hit my skin and fought weakly.
“Please,” I whispered.
His lips tugged up on one side. “Please?” His hooded eyes inspected what he had exposed. He tugged again, ripping at my clothing, jerking me with each pull until my dress lay in tatters that served as the perfect frame for my naked body.
Then he growled, a deep, feral, filthy sound that stamped all over my fear and sent a flood gushing from between my legs. “I’m hemorrhaging?” I wasn’t talking about my neck. There was something terribly wrong. That sound he made had broken me, and I was sure I was about to die.
The war god laughed. Then came the jangle and clank as his light armor parted, his knees forced mine apart. The heavy weight of his cock hit my stomach as he gathered my flailing arms and pinioned my hands above my head with a single hand about my wrists. Shifting down, his other hand palmed my breast.
I was dying, and he meant to fuck me anyway.
“You are not going to die, foolish Omega,” he said like he had read my mind. Then he lowered his lips to my throat. He didn’t bite this time, but kissed, lips trailing over the delicate membrane as if taunting me with the possibility that he might decide to take once more. My entire focus was on the big hand enveloping my whole breast, and that damn club now throbbing against my thigh. I shivered. His lips were gentle, his hands warm, and his fingers calloused. None of this was unpleasant, quite the contrary.
My thoughts were like leaves tumbling in a brisk breeze and could not settle on any one destination with so many stimulations and conflicts.
Clarity returned, sharp and unwanted. I was on a ship, an enemy ship, in a room, and this beast above me had just killed a man with his bare hands. Ripped him apart like he was nothing. He had taken my blood, and now he meant to fuck me.
I struggled. He growled; I froze and more liquid pooled between my legs.
“Please don’t growl,” I whispered, although why I thought he might yield to this request, was a mystery.
“You like the sound,” he muttered, sucking sharp kisses against my upper breast that were as much pain as pleasure. “You like it. You smell aroused.” His lips closed over the tip of one breast.
Nerves fluttered in my belly, and a soft moan escaped my lips at his vocalization of that unequivocal fact.
I was having some sort of out of body experience because, despite the improbability of it, he was speaking the truth. That the flood between my legs was slick, even though I wasn’t in heat, and it wasn’t normal for an Omega to react this strongly unless in heat.
My singularity? Or merely the presence of an Alpha?
His lips tugging rhythmically on my nipple were destroying me. What was wrong with me? I was in danger, I was about to be taken away, experimented on or killed. Palming my other breast, he leaned over and bit down on my nipple. Lick…bite…lick…bite, he continued until I was writhing about and unsure which of the two sensations I liked more.
He stroked his cock against my pussy, coating it in the river between my legs before catching the tip in my entrance and thrusting.
I don’t know what that thing was he was trying to impale me on, but all that thrust did was shove me up the bed.
Head lifting, he gripped my hip in one huge hand, dragged me back down, and thrust again.
The tip penetrated this time. “Fuck!” Gripping tighter on my hip, he tried to saw that club in and out. “How can you be this fucking wet and tight at the same fucking time?”
I didn’t have an answer.
His muscles tensed, he jabbed harder, and the thick length drove all the way in.
My back arched off the cot as the stinging, pinching pain of his penetration transitioned into blinding pleasure. “For fuck sake,” he mumbled. His weight settled over me more fully, and I felt like I was drowning in the awareness of him, and the huge body enclosing me. Pulling almost out, he thrust deep once again, and a ragged scream left my throat.
Dragging my knees up, he bent me nearly in two, and the next thrust went deeper still. I couldn’t begin to work out what was happening to my body. There was too much of him, too much presence, too much cock. He growled, a long drawn out snarl full of dominance and carnality and my body pulsed out more fluid. He continued to snarl and growl at me, hammering me into the bed. I was so full of him—I had never been so full, did not know it was possible to take this much and not die. “Oh god! Oh god!” Shattering, my head began to spin, and heat rushed up, my blood pumping too heavy. I needed another release. Needed him to bite me.
My head tilted to present my throat in offering. I had thought him a god, but now I recognized he was the devil, and he was out to ruin me, to destroy me absolutely. I wanted him to ruin me.
Our eyes met, mine pleading, his intent. My pupils would be dilated as the flush tore through my veins. His lips closed over that delicate membrane and he bit down.
The sharp sting as the membrane popped, lasted only an instant. My body convulsed, my inner muscles gripping his cock as he sucked my blood from my throat, drinking noisily, gulping, and growling. Adrenaline rushed, bringing another tight spasm as my stomach turned over and my muscles clamped in a second wave of pleasure. This time he came with me, pinning me with a rough hand about the throat as his cock jerked and warmth flooded my belly.
Sanity was slow to return. I felt like I had been broken down, turned inside out, and had no chance of becoming whole again.
His tongue lapped, soothing the rawness and a soft rumble emanated from his chest. The nothingness I floated in was a blissful place. I wanted to wallow there and never wake up.
“We need to leave,” he said between licks. “Before I fuck you again.”
“Leave?” My scattered thoughts could not make sense of his words.
Eyes fluttering open, I looked into his dark ones to find them crinkled with amusement. “You think I’m an enemy soldier, even after I bit you?” He laughed a soft, rich sound that made my belly tighten and pussy clench around the thick shaft still buried intimately inside me. “No such luck, princess. I’m the one they sent to collect you. And that means there’s no one else to save you from whatever I want to do.” He smirked. “And I have so much I want to do.” He pulled his length out, sending fresh stimulation rushing through my channel. I whimpered at the loss. He grinned. “Later.”
