Cracked Porcelain (8 page)

Dom snickered at the frailty of the human female before him and the species from which she came. “Just a few hundred years ago the human race was a brittle upstart dancing on a knife’s edge. Your bodies would rot and die off in seventy or eighty of your home world's years. Your species was relegated to clinging to a singular biosphere with all of your proverbial eggs in one big, blue basket. Can you believe that?”

She continued to glare at him with an air of insubordination, keeping silent.

“I’ve studied your kind extensively. Fascinating. Your people entered into Covenants as a sort of guarantee that they’d survive genetically. They’d pop those babies out as fast as they could because the clock was ticking. They had a couple of decades and then that was it. As a man, if you didn’t deliver that seed in time you’d eventually end up looking in the mirror at an old man. You’d be a footnote in evolutionary history. People were deathly afraid of that. It’s an instinct, you know? Survival.”

“Is this part of the negotiation?”

“It is. See, every single one of your clients have something in common, regardless of physiology. Regardless of what they look like or what their plumbing looks like, there is something in our brains that wants the same thing: We want to survive. But it’s a conflict, too; part of the brain just wants to have fun. We get off on that chemical rush when you get inside of a girl for the first time, or the first time you rob someone, or the first million uni-creds you see on your bank statement. The other part of the brain wants to live. We want two things: to eat and fuck. When you’re with a client and you two are doing what you’re doing, that part of the brain kicks in and the body goes into auto-pilot. You are giving them the sensation that every single living organism with a male brain and a set of balls craves: the guarantee that their genetic information is going to survive. That they’re going to survive into the future. Even if they know deep down that it’s all a fantasy, in the moment, the fantasy is real. It’s the same feeling your ancestors had thirty-thousand years ago fucking in a cave, wrapped in fur hides trying to stave off the snow blowing in sideways for just long enough to cum. That primal sensation. Nothing’s changed. You have value because, whether you realize it or not, you’re good at making a man feel like he’s having fun and that he’s going to survive. If anyone’s a drug dealer, you are,” he laughed. “You can give a man a high that you can’t get any other way. When I tell you that
you’re a thoroughbred and a valued investment, that’s what I mean.”

“Isn’t it considered dumb to tell someone you’re negotiating with how valuable they are?”

He sipped from his glass, impressed. “You’re right,” he said, patting the seat next to him. “Come on over here. If we’re going to talk business, let’s really talk. I’m not such a bad guy when you get to know me.”

Apprehensively, Maximillia rose up, crossed to the other side of the limo and sat beside Dom. He draped his arm on the headrest behind her. She noted this, already slightly irritated with his daring. She sat forward slightly, keeping her back off the cushion.

“You should be thankful. After all, I consider myself your benefactor now. If it wasn’t for me you’d probably be rotting in a sandy ditch out in the desert somewhere.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“But I gave it, nonetheless. You chose him. Mardo. You chose the life. He owed me, so, by proxy, you owe me.”

“I’m working for you because I don’t have a choice. Right? I do it, or else. I know what people like you are like.”

He was amused. “What are we like?”

“You hold grudges and you don’t forget.”

Touché. He nodded. “That is not incorrect. In my business you have to hold grudges. It all comes back to survival.”

“So, what are you selling me?”

“What exactly do you see in him?”

“Mardo?” She shrugged. “I was stupid, I guess. I just
—”

“You were looking for something and he was there to tell you what you thought you were looking for.”

She nodded.

“I’ve known Mardo for a long time. He’s a fucking degenerate. He goes through girls like you with stunning frequency. Me? I’m a one-woman man.”

Maximillia looked at him, suspicion growing in her.

“I’ll get to the point,” he offered. “I see an undiscovered jewel in you. You don’t belong out there in the desert with those fucking dregs. You’re a princess living at the bottom of a well.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb.

She cautiously inched back away.

“You deserve to live in the penthouse looking down on the dregs instead of toiling in the muck with them. I’ve seen what you’re capable of. I want what you can give me.”

“What?”

“What we just talked about.
Excitement and that illusion of survival.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I told you. I’m a one-woman man. I don’t have a woman. There’s a vacant spot. I want you to fill it.”

She glared at him, containing her revulsion.

“I can give you anything you want. You’re royalty. You deserve the accoutrements of royalty. You deserve everything that comes along with it.”

Maximillia couldn‘t believe what she was hearing. She had to put an end to it. “You can’t buy love.”

“Who said anything about love? I’m talking about an exchange. I give to you and you give to me. I give you everything that I have and you give me every part of you.”

“I’m not for sale.”

He guffawed. “Sweetheart, you get bought every night.”

She swung at his face with an open hand, but he snatched her scrawny wrist before impact. “Lively! I love it!”

Maximillia struggled futilely.

“I’m your hostage. My clients rent me. No one owns me.”

“Oh, you’re wrong. I own you, bitch. I own you,” he growled.

She
bared her teeth, breathing through her nostrils, her rage radiating off of her. “You don’t own me.”

“You don’t think so?” he asked, grabbing her other wrist and shoving it up against the headrest, holding both of her wrists down with his left hand.
"Here, take a look. Your greatest hits." A holographic video screen flickered alive beside them showing a security camera feed from one of Xartha's private rooms. It revealed a candid moment between Maximillia and one of her clients as she orally serviced him. The video switched to another feed from the security camera affixed in the alley beside Xartha's as a saracian violently fucked Maximillia from behind.

She sneered at Dom, ready to claw his eyes out. "I've got all of your little indiscretions, burned and in living color." She struggled but he effortlessly held her still. "But it's okay. Those were just auditions for the main event. You were just in training. Fight night is tonight and mine is the last dick you're ever going to fuck."

Futilely, she shook her head. "Not even in your dreams."

He slammed her wrists firmly against the head board. "Oh, this isn't a dream. We're wide awake and you're being filmed right now."

Her eyes darted about, searching for the all-seeing eyes.

"Don't bother. The cameras are integrated into the frame. I want to immortalize this moment and they're going to record every angle and every second of the action. You hear me?!"

Maximillia thrashed about, trying to pull away, but his strength dwarfed her own and he easily had both of her arms pinned back against the headrest with a single hand. He raked at her top with his free right hand, yanking it down. “Stop!” she screamed, pushing against the floor with her legs as her breasts were unwillingly exposed.

Flustered, he reached into his coat and drew out a polished coilarm: a hand-sized oranium projectile accelerator. Upon seeing it, she froze, halting her vociferous resistance.

“I didn’t want to have to do it this way,” he said, letting go of her wrists. He gestured to the seat across from them. “Get back over there.”

She cautiously crawled back across to the other seat and sat back, silently terrified.

He held the sidearm at his waist. “Your panties. Lose 'em.”

Petrified, she gazed down at the barrel of the blaster, then locked eyes with him. He meant business. She undid the flap on her shorts and slid them down her legs, kicking them off. Delicately, she peeled her panties off, piling them on top of her shorts before sitting back with her knees shut.

“Sit back and spread ‘em. I want to see your honey pot.”

Maximillia’s mind raced, desperately assessing the situation, calculating the best escape strategy. The limo was coasting along a
t a fairly rapid pace. The doors were locked. The car’s route was programmed and couldn’t be stopped. She had no choice but to comply with his commands.

She sat back, slowly opening her legs, revealing her petite, pink gash resting in the valley of her long, pale white legs.

“Will you look at that? Absolutely fucking beautiful,” Dom remarked, awestruck.

Maximillia realized she’d have to play the game if she wanted to get out alive.

“Rub it,” he commanded.

With her feet planted firmly on the seat, Maximillia reached down with her right hand and started rubbing up and down her slit. She was bone dry, but had to persevere. He was interested in the fantasy that she provided the clients at Xartha’s so she was going to entertain his. It was the only way. With a bit of theatrical zest, she moved her fingers along her slit, passively biting her lip for effect. Dom was completely engrossed. The coilarm hung loosely in his grip as his eyes bore a hole into her crotch, enjoying every microsecond of watching her play.

After a few minutes, he gestured her with a curl of his plate-clad fingers. “C’mere. On your hands and knees.”

She wondered what he could’ve possibly wanted. Unfortunately, deep down, she knew. Her playing was just a warm-up for him. He fished around with the magnetized bars on his fly, undoing them, and drawing out his semi-hard cock. Unlike the rest of his bone-plated exterior, his cock was a distended hunk of smooth, ridged flesh; disturbingly large, dark and enveloped in
thick veins. She did as directed and crawled over to him until his meat was mere inches from his face.

He sneered, looking down on her. “You know what to do.”

She sighed, panicking. “Isn’t there anything else I—”

“Do it,” he commanded.

At the end of her rope, Maximillia couldn’t hold back the tears. “Please.”

Dom lost his patience and bark
ed down at her. “Do it!” Spittle hit her in the face and she flinched, noticing the coilarm right next to her head. No way out. Resigned to her fate, she closed her eyes and sat forward, taking the head of his cock into her mouth. He exhaled, smiling with a barbarous self-satisfaction as she let her lips caress his meat. She went slow at first, guided by his left hand which was clasped around the back of her head.

"You're going to like your new job, baby. You're going to fuck me day and night, whether you want to or not. I've got some stuff I'm going to let you try that
puts Gatekeeper to shame. This new stuff is like mother's milk. By the end of it, you'll be begging for my cock. You'll be my drugged-up little slave girl, forever," he boasted. "And the best part is that you're not even gonna care."

As she sucked, Maximillia calculated how fast she’d have to be to snatch the coilarm out of his hand. It was close, but he was strong. If she failed she didn’t want to entertain the consequences. She kept her sucking pace steady and inconspicuous. She didn’t want to get him too riled by being too energetic with her technique.

Dom was bathed in bliss, his eyes shut, a perpetual stupid grin on his face as Maximillia's head bobbed up and down on his tumescent thickness. She started increasing her tempo, snaking her tongue along his length which he felt instantly. “There you go. Just like that.”

He reached over her back and rubbed her ass, slapping it, forcing her to wince, choking for a moment on him. She had to prepare to act and at the most opportune time. A second too early or too late could spell failure.

From her peripheral vision, she noticed his grip on the coilarm slackening as she continued to work his meat. The timing had to be perfect.

His head was cocked back, eyes still closed. “I’m getting close, baby. Don’t you stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

As she sucked Dom’s rock-solid pillar, Maximillia tasted the faint trickle of pre-cum rolling onto her tongue. He was very close, so she sucked faster and harder.

He laughed. “I think you’re starting to enjoy this! Good. Daddy’s almost there. Just a few more seconds.”

The pre-cum trickled in heavier. She knew he was about to blow. Then, his cock twitched in her mouth, followed by a thick glob of cum which pooled onto her tongue. She had to move now!

Maximillia pulled her lips off of Dom’s cock and lunged for the coilarm. Feeling her hands on the gun, he snapped back from the edge of rapture and tightened his grip. She wrestled him for it and he tumbled out of the seat, falling on top of her. She put her finger on the trigger and pressed it, firing oranium rings through the body of the limo.

“You little bitch! You wanna play, huh? We’ll play!”

She put her entire body into the struggle, swinging the coilarm down and firing again, piercing through the ceiling and down through the front of the limo. Several shots punctured the main control panel, frying the navigational systems, sending the limo veering off-course.