hard. I frowned and shook my head.
At the outer fringes of the rows and rows of housing that
started just outside the checkpoint, I took a left. Without thinking, I weaved
through the crowded paths and once-streets. Scents of decay, trash, spoiled
food and human waste were the hardest adjustments when walking home from work.
Even the Neliousian trash smelled better than ours.
I turned down an alley.
Hard hands grabbed me from behind.
I yelped and blind panic hit. The alley spun about me as I
shoved away and slammed into the side of a nearby shack. My head nearly burst
with pain and I struggled, pushing against my attacker. All I could think was
of my mother, sneering at me to be more careful as she refused to take me to a
medic when I’d been raped and abused only a year ago. It was common in the
Eastern Seaboard slum. I didn’t know a single woman who didn’t bear scars of
past violence. I’d been lucky and not gotten pregnant or diseased.
But I refused to be victim again.
I doubled over and reached into my boot. My fingers brushed
the hilt of my knife. Before I could unsheathe it, a yank threw me backwards
and I landed on something soft.
I gasped and tried to focus in the dark.
A hiss sounded behind me and a weight crashed onto me.
“You’re sure the serum will work on her?” a deep voice
growled.
“No. I’m not. I told you. It’s experimental.” Another answered
in a calm way, as if something violent and life threatening didn’t play out in
front of him.
My face had smashed into plush fabric. I couldn’t breathe
and my yells muffled into the pillow thing beneath me. I shoved and bucked, but
I couldn’t get away. More weight landed on me and the lack of air made dots of
white flash behind my lids. Reason snuck into the confusion and I stilled. If I
didn’t calm, I’d suffocate. Let these men do whatever they had planned. At least
I’d live.
“Just jab her with the needle already. If it works on her,
she’ll be ripe for you in minutes. Enough of this thrashing about. It might
draw attention,” the calm one threatened.
A cold feeling swamped me and I tried to wiggle away again.
But a sharp prick struck me in the side and in seconds, I went limp. It
could’ve been whatever my attacker had given me, or the realization that this
was the end for me. We all lived under the fear of death. It was our way of
life.
The weight lifted off of me and I turned my head to gasp in
air. It was too dark to see anything and the familiar noises of the slum
filtered in past my struggles. Nobody would come to my rescue. Life was too
cheap—and was the most selfishly guarded commodity.
If only I could see, maybe I could find a way out, but as my
senses returned I realized I was in some enclosed space. I didn’t know which
way was out, where my attacker was, or anything.
Then, my world utterly flipped as my mouth went hot and my
nipples pebbled into painful spikes of need. My pussy throbbed and a shudder
made me turn to my side and curl into a ball. My throat burned and water
collected on my tongue.
I needed. Oh, I was so painfully hungry and hollow. I
whimpered and gripped my arms as I held onto myself instead of reaching between
my legs to rub my tingling clit.
“She’s responding well. Go ahead. Fuck her. But remember my
deal. If you get away with it, I expect your payment. Your body. Beneath me.”
The calm one said this with utter lack of tone.
“If this works, I’ll be glad to do it.”
“If only you’d been glad to do it before now,” the dry reply
made my struggle to keep from crying seem an offhand thought to these men.
Nearly begging for release from the lust gripping my insides, I sensed they had
more at stake here than a mere raping of me, a nobody.
Then the gruff one added, “But not yet. I want to see her
face when I finally take her.”
Finally?
This all made no sense.
How could anyone have something that would make me feel this
way?
Unless they’d gotten it from the freak
At the outer fringes of the rows and rows of housing that
started just outside the checkpoint, I took a left. Without thinking, I weaved
through the crowded paths and once-streets. Scents of decay, trash, spoiled
food and human waste were the hardest adjustments when walking home from work.
Even the Neliousian trash smelled better than ours.
I turned down an alley.
Hard hands grabbed me from behind.
I yelped and blind panic hit. The alley spun about me as I
shoved away and slammed into the side of a nearby shack. My head nearly burst
with pain and I struggled, pushing against my attacker. All I could think was
of my mother, sneering at me to be more careful as she refused to take me to a
medic when I’d been raped and abused only a year ago. It was common in the
Eastern Seaboard slum. I didn’t know a single woman who didn’t bear scars of
past violence. I’d been lucky and not gotten pregnant or diseased.
But I refused to be victim again.
I doubled over and reached into my boot. My fingers brushed
the hilt of my knife. Before I could unsheathe it, a yank threw me backwards
and I landed on something soft.
I gasped and tried to focus in the dark.
A hiss sounded behind me and a weight crashed onto me.
“You’re sure the serum will work on her?” a deep voice
growled.
“No. I’m not. I told you. It’s experimental.” Another answered
in a calm way, as if something violent and life threatening didn’t play out in
front of him.
My face had smashed into plush fabric. I couldn’t breathe
and my yells muffled into the pillow thing beneath me. I shoved and bucked, but
I couldn’t get away. More weight landed on me and the lack of air made dots of
white flash behind my lids. Reason snuck into the confusion and I stilled. If I
didn’t calm, I’d suffocate. Let these men do whatever they had planned. At least
I’d live.
“Just jab her with the needle already. If it works on her,
she’ll be ripe for you in minutes. Enough of this thrashing about. It might
draw attention,” the calm one threatened.
A cold feeling swamped me and I tried to wiggle away again.
But a sharp prick struck me in the side and in seconds, I went limp. It
could’ve been whatever my attacker had given me, or the realization that this
was the end for me. We all lived under the fear of death. It was our way of
life.
The weight lifted off of me and I turned my head to gasp in
air. It was too dark to see anything and the familiar noises of the slum
filtered in past my struggles. Nobody would come to my rescue. Life was too
cheap—and was the most selfishly guarded commodity.
If only I could see, maybe I could find a way out, but as my
senses returned I realized I was in some enclosed space. I didn’t know which
way was out, where my attacker was, or anything.
Then, my world utterly flipped as my mouth went hot and my
nipples pebbled into painful spikes of need. My pussy throbbed and a shudder
made me turn to my side and curl into a ball. My throat burned and water
collected on my tongue.
I needed. Oh, I was so painfully hungry and hollow. I
whimpered and gripped my arms as I held onto myself instead of reaching between
my legs to rub my tingling clit.
“She’s responding well. Go ahead. Fuck her. But remember my
deal. If you get away with it, I expect your payment. Your body. Beneath me.”
The calm one said this with utter lack of tone.
“If this works, I’ll be glad to do it.”
“If only you’d been glad to do it before now,” the dry reply
made my struggle to keep from crying seem an offhand thought to these men.
Nearly begging for release from the lust gripping my insides, I sensed they had
more at stake here than a mere raping of me, a nobody.
Then the gruff one added, “But not yet. I want to see her
face when I finally take her.”
Finally?
This all made no sense.
How could anyone have something that would make me feel this
way?
Unless they’d gotten it from the freak
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