What will he do with his spoils of war?
I’m pinned down and low on ammo. If I stand, I’ll present a target and I know that’s what he’s hoping for. He’s impossibly quiet, waiting for me to make a move, and it is making my heart race. There’s nowhere in this tin hallway to go except that storage cupboard at the end of it. Getting there won’t be easy. But, if I can hide there long enough to recharge my laser, I might get out of this alive. It might be a terrible idea but it’s the only one I’ve got. I tuck my gun into the waistband of my yoga shorts and wriggle on my belly down the hall.
I reach the cupboard. It’s smaller than I estimated. But I’m small. He’s not. Maybe his size will make this invisible to him as a possible hiding spot? If I have the element of surprise, a recharged weapon, and some speed, I could still take him.
I curl into the cupboard, pull out my weapon, and attach the charger that’s tucked into my bra. I pull the door closed, quietly, and wait, watching the battery indicator creep higher. All I need is five minutes and I’ll have plenty of charge for a kill shot.
I’m breathing hard, but not from exertion. I just ran the length of the Demeter, narrowly escaping a hard volley of laser fire, but it’s the silence that’s spiking my adrenaline. I can’t hear anything outside my hidey hole. I don’t know if he’s in the hallway or has gone another way. I won’t know if it’s safe to come out till I do it. That’s okay, I say to my beating heart, we are just gonna wait here till my gun is charged. Then I’ll crack the door and shoot to kill.
I watch the dim battery indicator, the only light in my hole. Four minutes left. Then three. I start to relax. I’ve got this. Two minutes.
Suddenly, he yanks open my cupboard door, sticks his weapon into the crack, and shoots. I’m hit. It’s a chest shot. There’s no recovering from this. I clutch my breast where the laser burns.
He grabs my ankles and drags me out of the cupboard. As soon as I’m in the hallway, unable to move or protest, he pulls off my shorts and falls on top of me.
“What do I get for winning?” he wants to know, laughing into my ear, and biting my neck.
“What do you want?” I giggle, wrapping my legs around his hips. According to the rules, he can screw me right here or do anything he wants. I’m not allowed to move after a kill shot. I can’t protest. I’m his now, to do with what he wants — the spoils of war.
He stands up and drags me toward our bunk. What will he do to me?
These erotic and steamy erotic science fiction stories are for adults, over 18, and are loaded with M/F sex, F/F/M menage, M/F/M menage, light and playful consensual bondage, power play, enslavement, and — even — tentacles.
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