Chapter 11: Solitaire

Korbaz paced about her cell, clenching her fists as she glared at the featureless walls. It was an empty box, for all intents and purposes, made from white metal without even a carpet to warm her paws. There were no windows, and only one door that was securely bolted shut, a single slot serving as a means to feed the occupant their processed swill. There was a toilet and a drinking fountain, along with a bed that was little more than a metal frame with a thin mattress laid on top of it.

The tight leather of her pants creaked as she stalked, joining the clicking of her sharp claws on the floor as the only sounds in the room. She was furious, frustrated, and with no outlet to speak of. She had considered savaging her mattress in a fit of anger, but that would leave her with nowhere to sleep, and she had no idea when they would see fit to release her.

How dare these creatures confine her like this, accuse her of atrocities that she had no part in! They flouted her diplomatic rights, denied her the respect that her status afforded her. The Matriarch would hear her complaints, and Korbaz was certain that her condemnation would be harsh indeed.

She finally ceased her restless pacing, the springs in the bed making an intolerable scraping sound as she sat down on them. She crossed her arms and legs as she loosed an irritated snarl, her tail flicking back and forth, her ears flat against her cropped hair. Her people did not imprison one another in this way, they settled their disputes with their claws, and punishments were meted out with little delay. It was impossible to guess what they hoped to accomplish by keeping her here, their alien minds were unfathomable.

She recalled the humiliating fight in the suite, how that oversized kitten of a Polar had forced her into submission, how the UNNI agent had taunted her. She would trade all of her pack’s riches back on Borealis for ten minutes alone with that smirking ape. She would peel the meat from his bones, have him begging for her to grant him a moment mercy. Humans had such tender flesh...

Her thoughts wandered to the Chief of Security, and she lay her head in one of her furry hands, exhaling a sigh as an involuntary pang of arousal tickled her loins. Her rank of Vice Admiral gave her a privileged position in the Rask hierarchy, on top of being the Alpha of a pack with high standing in the social order. She always got what she wanted, either given willingly by fawning underlings or taken by force if it was denied to her. The only people that she couldn’t strongarm were those of equal rank, and the Matriarch herself, of course.

Something about the Security Chief’s defiance and stubbornness made her desire him all the more. It was the forbidden fruit, just out of reach, that tasted the sweetest. She had heard the whispered tales of his people’s sexual prowess, their smooth tongues, and their dull fingers. They seemed almost designed to make a Borealan weak at the knees. Yet her Rask pride told her that they were frail creatures, small and fragile, unworthy of her consideration.

The Chief was different, however. He had strength enough to subdue even her, and his skin was a patchwork of scars earned in battle. The very thought of tracing them with her pads made her heart skip, it was a feature that her people found most desirable in a mate.

How she longed to challenge him, to defeat him, and to take him every manner that she pleased until she’d had her fill of him. Only then could she excise him from her thoughts. He had crept into her dreams following their first, somewhat confrontational encounter, taunting her in the depths of sleep where she had no control over her faculties. Korbaz was confident that she would come out on top in such a battle, but that nagging doubt remained, a possibility of defeat that gave the whole affair a dangerous and exciting allure. The humans did not observe the pack structure, and so there was little danger of any true loss of standing, yet the risk made her cheeks flush red all the same. The very idea that a Vice Admiral of the Rask could find herself in a subservient position to an alien was ... scandalous. How long had it been since she had felt defeat, since she had been roughly mounted after being taught her place? Not since her youth. She was uncommonly resilient, as her high rank suggested.

There was her defeat at the hands of the Polar, but that was different. They were manipulative creatures, sneaky, and no challenge had been issued. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a guilty pang of arousal at the idea of the fat, furry creature taking her there on the kitchen floor, right in front of the humans. It was an intrusive thought that she quickly banished from her mind, turning the focus of her lust back to the Chief.

She parted her thighs, eyeing the corners of the room warily for the cameras that the humans liked to place all over their station. There were none that she could see, her captors had granted her the dignity of a little privacy if nothing else.

Her heart was racing, and the bout with the Polar had left her frustrated. There was no aphrodisiac quite like a good fight, and she had been denied the satisfaction of inflicting even a single injury on her opponent. There was nothing worse than swinging one’s claws and having them fail to connect. It was like building to an orgasm and then stopping just short of the climax. If she didn’t do something about it, she was going to go crazy, the risk of her jailors walking in on her be damned...

She began to unzip her leather jacket, her heart beating faster as she exposed her toned midriff, running her sharp claws across her stomach as they wandered down to her belt buckle. Her muscles tensed beneath her tanned skin, pulling taut as she left stinging trails, just the right amount of pain to get her going. She fumbled with her buckle for a moment, hastily unfastening her belt, the comforting weight of the weapons that usually filled her pouches and holsters now absent.

She pulled down her zipper, struggling to drag her skin-tight, leather pants down far enough to expose herself. They clung to her already dampening skin, Korbaz shuffling uncomfortably on the creaking cot as she got them about half-way down her muscular thighs, exposing a tuft of sandy-blonde fur on her otherwise smooth mound.

The cold from the metal wall behind her permeated the padding of her leather jacket as she leaned back against it, spreading her legs as much as her tight pants would allow. She was already dripping, her juices staining her inner thighs, her lips swollen and needy. Biting her lower lip, she slowly slipped a finger between them, wetting her fleshy pad with her excitement. She already knew that her fluids were going to soak her fur, she’d stink of sex, but she was beyond the point of caring about that now.

Her eyelids drooped as her damp, slippery pad brushed her engorged clitoris, a jolt of pleasure making her shiver. Being very careful with the sharp claw on her index finger, she began a slow, circular rubbing motion. Even now, Korbaz longed for something filling, something long and girthy that could scratch the maddening itch deep inside her. But there was nothing to be done about it, she couldn’t insert a finger, not without filleting herself from the inside.

She couldn’t remember the last time that she had been forced to do this alone, there had always been a willing subordinate on hand to provide a cock or a tongue whenever the urge arose. Grumbling her disappointment under her breath, she focused on her sensitive bud, closing her eyes and trying to take her mind off her decidedly unerotic setting.

In her imagination, the Security Chief had come to her suite alone, without his UNNI lackeys in tow. She couldn’t recall the details of his uniform, save that it was blue, perhaps a little tighter fitting in her mind’s eye than it had been in reality. His prosthetics stood out to her, however. She could recall every minute detail, down to the whirring sound that they made when they moved, to the subtle checker pattern that was visible on the black housing when they caught the light at just the right angle. His dark hair, the scars on his tanned skin, those dark eyes that radiated such self-assurance.

She replayed the interrogation in her head, blanking out the two agents and focusing on the Chief. Moralez, that was his real name, but his title afforded him a status that she found quite alluring. Chief of Security had no equivalent in her society, but it was similar to Captain of the Guard, a position in the Elysian military.

The scene played out in much the same way, with the Chief discovering the alien device in her pocket, and confronting her with the demand that she allow herself to be incarcerated. This time, there was no brutish Polar to fight on his behalf, Korbaz flipping the table and squaring off against the human.

He was strong, resilient, putting up a good fight as the pair exchanged scars and bruises. The duel was part of her fantasy, no less erotic than its result, and her racing mind went into great detail as her finger rubbed slowly.

Korbaz dodged out the way as the Chief swung at her with a clenched fist, the hard, tough material punching straight through the wall behind her as though it posed no resistance at all. He came at her again, far quicker than any normal human, a follow-up strike destroying a kitchen counter. The wood fractured, the contents of one of the drawers spilling alien implements onto the floor, her opponent’s dark eyes tracking her as she danced out of his reach.

He raised his arms defensively as she swiped at him with her hooked claws, her talons leaving deep furrows in his polymer forearms. It felt good to feel them tear through something, even if it was only synthetic flesh, the Chief reeling under her powerful blow. She forced him back against the counter, the alien giving up his defensive posture, ducking under her blow to send her claws slicing through a wooden cabinet where his head had been a moment before.

There was an electric whir as he punched her in the stomach, moving as though he intended to put his iron fist straight through her, her muscles tensing as a jolt of pain rocked her. She did not fall as he had expected, driving her knee into his torso, lifting him clear off the floor and sending him slamming into the counter. The Chief was dazed, rising to his feet as he glared at her defiantly, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his prosthetic hand. Korbaz had no idea how resilient humans really were, but in her fantasy, he could take anything that she could dish out.

The Chief took up a boxing posture, a human fighting stance that she had seen on the station’s intranet. Their fists were dangerous, the knuckles reinforced for combat to the extent that they had to wear protective gloves to save from wounding one another. She could only imagine that the Chief’s fists were even more deadly, perhaps designed for combat.

Unrelenting, he threw himself at her, harrying her with swift punches from his robotic limbs. He was fast, but he couldn’t hope to stand against a Rask, their bout ending with Korbaz throwing him across the kitchen with a brutal backhand that knocked him off his feet. Even now, he tried to get up, but she marched across the kitchen and reached down to grip him by the collar of his uniform. She lifted him off the ground like a duffel bag, tossing him onto the Borealan-sized couch in the living area.

“Submit,” she panted, her sweat making her leather garments stick to her skin. “You are spent.”

A Borealan would submit once bested, he would become compliant, boring. But Korbaz had heard stories of how the humans prolonged the encounter well past the point of submission, resisting even as they were taken.

“I’m afraid not, Vice Admiral,” he replied. He was always courteous, even when he was angry.

She reached down with her sharp claws, intending to tear open his uniform, but he gripped her wrist with a robotic hand. Korbaz batted her lashes in surprise as she found herself unable to break his steely grip. Her heart fluttered as her fingers began to grow numb, her wrist starting to hurt. He was so strong...

She brought in her second hand, and he stopped that too, Korbaz’s biceps bulging from beneath the sleeves of her jacket as she tried in vain to reach him. She was winded by a savage kick from his prosthetic leg, the skid-like foot catching her in the belly. Her lips curled into a grin as she pressed more of her weight on him, she could hear his arms creaking, the motors whining. Finally, she managed to gain control, pinning his arms against the cushions as she loomed over him.

Korbaz brought her face close to his, her labored breathing washing over him, the sweet scent of his exertion filling her pink nose. She opened her mouth, grazing his cheek with her rough, tapered tongue. His taste was just as irresistible.

“I finally get to have you,” she whispered as her heart began to race, “no more games...”

The Chief reached up and sank his teeth into her neck, biting her hard enough to leave a sore, red mark. A jolt of pleasure coursed through her as her eyelids fluttered, the real Korbaz beginning to stroke herself faster as her imaginary counterpart wet her lips in anticipation.

“You can’t resist me,” she continued, “you’ve never had anyone like me before. I’ll send you back to your prissy Polar covered in my scent.”

She drew the loop of rope that she kept in one of her pouches, delighting in binding his hands together. Korbaz wasn’t interested in the details, or the fact that he could easily have broken free, her fantasy demanded that he be restrained.

Now bound with his arms above his head, he couldn’t prevent her from slowly popping the buttons off his uniform one by one with her black claws. Did he have buttons, or had it been a zipper? She couldn’t remember. No matter...

She tore the garment open, exposing his chest, running her padded fingers over his collection of scars. Each one was the proof of a battle won, an engagement survived, a story that had been imprinted in his skin. Korbaz let her claws prick him, leaving red trails that came just short of drawing blood, the Chief twitching as she moved lower.

She knelt, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room as she discarded the rest of his shredded uniform. The garment disappeared to leave him naked as soon as it was no longer part of her imagined encounter, her focus turning to his alien, yet familiar physique. Korbaz could see where his prosthetics connected to his body now, the stumps covered by polymer housings in her mind’s eye. They were some of the most deadly injuries that could be survived, yet he fought on, a shiver traveling down her spine as she admired his physique.

Although she would never have admitted to letting her curiosity get the better of her, she had seen a human’s member before, an anatomical drawing on an intranet article. They weren’t nearly as small as one would have expected from a creature of such diminutive stature, and they were covered in smooth skin, without a barb in sight. The stimulation instead came from the odd ridge on the pronounced head and the bulging veins that ran up and down its length.

She pressed her padded finger against its sensitive tip, watching it twitch, her amber eyes darting upwards to see the Chief peering back at her expectantly. How could he resist her? Given the opportunity, she would turn him, she was certain of it. The sinewy, vigorous body of a Rask was a sculpted work of art, fat Polars and frail human women couldn’t hold a candle to her. If only he would see it. Korbaz had contrived so many opportunities to have him close to her, to let him run those metal hands across her body. If he was at all curious, then he never showed it.

All he had to do was turn up at her suite and ask for a closer look...

Her fingers began to rub faster, wet with her juices as she imagined closing her lips around his member, feeling his pulse against the flat of her tongue. She dug her claws into his prosthetic thigh, feeling them sink deep into the material as she began to suck, crawling her lips lower as his resistance started to melt. She took him into her throat, kissing the base, Korbaz delighting in the way that he throbbed in her mouth.

It was more than simply wanting to conquer him as she had so many others. She wanted to pleasure him, she wanted him to reciprocate her desire, and she wasn’t sure why. Conquest had always been enough before, but she wanted to prove herself in other ways, she wanted him to want her.

His rubber fingers delved into her sandy hair, alternating between affectionate stroking, and stinging tugging that made her loins ache. Where the rope had gone, she didn’t care, logic wasn’t a requirement when she was lost in a sordid fantasy.

Her long tongue coiled around his length, winding up and down his shaft, coating it in her saliva. She reveled in his every twitch and sigh, pulling back the protective skin to expose his pink flesh, paying it special attention as its tip leaked beads of his excitement. She wasn’t sure if he would appreciate its rough texture, but in her mind, she was gentle, and he reveled in it. His grip on her hair grew tighter as she teased him, a groan of disappointment escaping his lips when she stopped short of finishing him off. She took his member in her hand, tickling him with her furry palm, now damp with her drool.

“Now, perhaps you will be more honest with yourself,” she said as she crawled up onto the couch. She straddled him, her weight pressing the cushions down to either side of him, her leather pants creaking as she brought her crotch to head-height. She gripped the headrest, seeing the conflict in his eyes as they traced the indents that her toned muscles carved into her exposed midriff, droplets of her sweat following the contours as they dripped down her belly.

“I want you to undress me,” she said, more of a statement than a request. “Surely you can resist me no longer, Security Chief?”

She licked her lips as she peered down at him, finding his indecision adorable, his arousal overcoming the shame of his defeat at her hands. His lips pressed against her belly, Korbaz shuddering both in her fantasy and in reality as she imagined the sensation of his silken tongue darting into her navel.

“I’ve been lying to myself,” he muttered, the Vice Admiral grinning from ear to ear as he placed a gentle bite on her hip.

“Did you always want me?” Korbaz whispered, her cheeks flushing as her imagination took a self-indulgent turn.

“I didn’t know how to show it,” he replied, “your culture is so foreign.”

“Human courtship is so indirect,” she purred, reaching down and cupping his scarred cheek in her hand. “A Rask simply takes what she wants.”

“Then...”

Korbaz lurched as she felt his prosthetic fingers dart up towards her pants, the alien crushing her steel belt buckle in his hand as though it were made from tin, tearing it away. Once her belt had been loosened, he ripped open her fly, not even taking the time to pull down the zipper. He had become so aggressive all of a sudden, not at all like the submissive behavior of a defeated male.

Korbaz’s excited chuckling morphed in a low, sultry moan as his tongue skirted the fluffy tuft of blonde fur on her mound, his fingers delving into the meat of her rump through the tough leather. His metal hands were so small, struggling to cup her firm cheeks, but the lack of claws meant that he could knead and squeeze in a way that a Borealan partner couldn’t.

She shivered contentedly as he took generous handfuls of her flesh through her pants, her spine arching, fresh beads of sweat trailing their way down her washboard abs. Her now willing partner began to drag her pants down, so tight that it was a struggle, even with his enhanced strength. They were like a second skin, as though they had been painted onto her, the material creaking audibly as he hooked his thumbs around her waistband.

Korbaz helped him along, dragging them down slowly, making him work for every inch of exposed skin. He seemed enamored, mouthing and kissing as he went, biting her with his dull teeth.

The garment slid down around her muscular thighs, the Chief running the rubbery pads on the ends of his fingers across her wet skin, the sheen of sweat making her glisten under the suite’s lights. She could feel his eyes wandering across her figure, drinking her in like a thirsty traveler at a desert oasis. He radiated a long-repressed desire, his cool hands sliding between her parted legs, probing as though he didn’t know what to expect.

His fingers found wetness, warmth, and he pulled them back to see a web of sagging fluid clinging to the polymer. He brought it to his mouth, glancing up at her defiantly as he sampled her flavor, Korbaz’s cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red.

The Vice Admiral was jolted back to reality as the bed in her cell made an especially loud creak. She realized that she had raised her rump from the mattress, her fingers moving furiously between her trembling thighs. She pulled them away, watching the strand that linked them to her swollen loins fall to her belly as it broke.

“Too hot,” she grumbled to nobody in particular, putting her sordid fantasy on hold as she removed her leather jacket. The cold wall behind her was now pleasant, soothing, her tank top already stained with sweat. The damned cell was like an oven, trapping all of her body heat. As someone who was accustomed to the harsh weather of the Rask territory, it took a great deal of discomfort to make her complain.

She tossed her jacket to the floor, the metal studs and badges clattering against the white metal, then shifted her weight as she tried to find a comfortable position. She spread her legs further, wishing that she had something softer to sit on, the rhythmic squeaking of the bedsprings resuming as she began to rub again.

In Korbaz’s fantasy, her pants had vanished, leaving her nude from the waist down. The human left a sucking kiss on her inner thigh, a pleasant shiver winding its way up her spine, her muscles dimpling her skin as they tensed.

“You taste so good,” he muttered, her eyes rolling back into her head as she felt his smooth tongue draw shapes. He neared her loins, her pulse seeming to make them throb, his nose delving into the silky tuft of sandy fur as his lips met hers. Like a lurid kiss, he explored her with his dexterous organ, its texture like satin that had been soaked in warm water. That was the way that she had heard it described, was it not?

“Yes, just like that,” she whispered as she let her hand rest in his hair. She drew him a little closer, her legs turning to jelly as he painted her burning vulva, teasing her with gentle licks and pecks. She leaned back a little, making it easier for him, feeling the warmth of his red cheeks on her thighs as he dug deeper.