Monad releases his hold long enough to let me cough a strangled breath, but as soon as that’s done, the scorns cinch close and throttle me again. My own flesh is choking me once more, and I pull at it. No, he’s leaving it too long – does he want me to faint? And again, as my terror begins to peak for the second time, I’m given a short moment to gasp for oxygen.
The men are discussing prospective victims for next year’s Rape Run, as though my plight isn’t happening, but intent with my fight for survival I’ve stopped listening to the business of governing a planet. I’m trying to work my fingers inside the noose of flesh so I can give myself an air-gap. Monad, fully aware of my plan, adjusts the grip of his huge fist, and pulls back against my neck even more tightly.
I try to plea for mercy, fingers scrabbling vainly at the bands crushing my windpipe, but I can emit no sound.
“No, hands to your thighs,” Monad commands me now, and in spite of my desperation, I still must obey. I rest the backs of my hands on my naked thighs, in the classic slave kneeling position.
He permits me another gasp of air – just for a fraction of a second.
I’m trying to understand what is expected of me. Does he want me to pass out, in which case it would be better to just feign losing consciousness? Perhaps it is my fear which pleases him? I don’t need acting to show I’m afraid.
Salarin pulls back on Ja-Alixxe’s hair, mirroring the Gaianesian’s posture, so the bounty hunter must watch me. There is pity in her expression – an emotion I don’t remember ever seeing from her during her time in the Rape Run. The Gaianesian woman, in contrast, looks utterly terrified. Is the sight of me that bad?
Starved of oxygen, my awareness begins to become less real, and it feels as though I’m falling backwards. At that point I am permitted another brief breath, and I’m catapulted back into my body. A minion of Salarin’s is addressing the leaders. He mentions the name “Yarook”.
“He’s not getting even the ugliest piece of cunt from me,” growls Monad from behind me. “I’d rather cut their throats.”
The declaration must have provoked my Master to anger, for without warning I’m flung forward, landing heavily and painfully on my front on the hard floor. I start pushing myself back up, but Monad barks “Lie there! Wrap those things tighter around your neck.”
An order is an order, and any resistance dissolves instantly.
The meeting pauses, silent, while I circle the braids of my own body even tighter about my neck. Behind me, I hear my owner rising to his feet. Compelled my implant, I lie there, limp and docile, ready for whatever he intends of me.
I’m lying on a thick rug, but the floor is very uncomfortable. My cheek feels as though it was bruised in my tumble to the floor. The scorns, wrapped “tighter” as he commanded, are too tight to breathe, and the strange shimmering starlight is creeping back into the edges of my vision.
And then my master falls on me, crushing the rest of the air from my lungs out into a strangled scream of pain. I have no lubrication on my backside, and the suffering from him suddenly piercing my anus is brutal. The agony of him raping my rear would be enough to make me scream on and on, if only I could, but he drags hard back on the living noose, and a woman needs air to cry out.
“Is this really necessary?” I hear Cronorgan ask as Monad ruts into me, violating me in front of them all. “She’s a nice sample, and it’s a waste if you’re going to do this every single time.”
“I’ll sell her to you if you admit you’re weak, and you care for her?” Monad replies, the sound of his voice amplified through me by the pressure from our bodies being crushed together.
Seconds more pass. Even with my dwindling consciousness, they are seconds of unbearable suffering. I’m waiting for Monad to let me take a breath, like he has done over and over so far. Surely it must be soon. This ordeal can’t go on much longer. Meanwhile his cock feels enormous inside my bowel. Dystyr women’s bodies are similar to human females, when it comes to the proportions of our back passages. We’re equally able to survive anal penetration, but it’s less commonly practiced in our society. I hope Jurong doesn’t expect me to endure that.
I start to notice my ears filling with a beautiful sound, as though a choir of a thousand voices are forming one perfect chord. My vision has dwindled right down to a pinpoint now. Most of my view is filled with bright light. I think I am falling.
And finally, I understand.
Sexual killing is almost unheard of in Dystyr society. It is as alien to me as my iridescent skin and my scorns are to the humans. So I barely have time to consider the idea that must have been apparent to the observers – that Monad does not intend to let me breathe, ever again. “No man uses a female after Monad has had her”. Oh, I think. That’s what they meant.
I’m not sure why, but I feel strangely calm as I consider my end. I may even shed a sparkling tear, but it becomes a star before I have chance to catch it. I look up, following it towards the void of space.
And I see the Rainbow Galaxy.
Standing, I run naked and unashamed towards infinity