Hiya! It's Kim and welcome to another series, called "His Sex Machines". Like my other series, I'm writing more and more of it but because I got to work on other stories plus college work...uploading chapters won't be consistent. But I do hope you enjoy my story and again check out my profile for other series! Leave a comment, and any feedback is appreciated! Cya!
*****
It's time.
Elena stood in the warm darkness, breathing deep breaths. Her bare soles stung on the cold ground as if it was made of ice. She was dressed in a black underwear, chosen carefully for the occasion but she felt vulnerable, knowing they would serve little use to her soon. Just beyond the doors before her awaited the Judges, men that would decide her future for her. She had trained all her life for this moment. The test would determine if she would become a common worker or a privileged and respected Cupid. She was adorned with the most expensive cosmetics that accentuated her beauty yet the task ahead was raw and primitive. Elena could not reject the foreboding sense of irony, yet could not show it under the calculating eyes of her Queen.
"Pleasure comes first," Helen said quietly. "You know that, Elena, don't you?"
Elena closed her eyes and nodded. Pleasure comes first. That's what they all say, the Cupids. Her Queen said it the most, when she taught them her crafts. Pleasure comes first, Elena repeated silently, mouthing the words with care. It was like a solemn promise. A precious consolation.
"After tonight," her master whispered, "you will have all you ever wanted. All we ever wanted. True pleasure." The Master of the Cupids stroked Elena's black hair lovingly, like a mother. "Something rare and only a few women can have. You do know that, don't you, dear?"
Elena nodded. Of course she did. She would get a
man
. A man, not a Judic male suffering from all sorts of mutations. No, she would get a chosen man, the best of
their
kind. The women in the world above would glare at her jealously, eyeing her mate like food, knowing they could never get, never feel, never have what she would have. She would have a
real
man...all to herself.
It's good, but is it what I want?
Elena frowned, blocking away that train of thought, hit by a pang of guilt. Helen had brought her up, taken her away from the war, free from starvation, free from all the chaos of the outside. She lived a life of royalties, a life that very few could enjoy in the world. She owed everything to her.
"Are you ready?" her master asked. Elena knew Helen had very high hopes for her and she wasn't going to disappoint.
She nodded firmly once more. "I'm ready," she replied.
Helen smiled, showing her perfect white teeth. "Then go get them," she said and opened the double doors, flooding Elena's world with light.
****
It had been raining for days. The ground became a cold slush, and the puddles became ponds. The wind seem to come from underneath them, sliding off the water in a breeze that was both humid and chilling to the bone. The trees drooped towards the ground, bent and exhausted. Their green leaves had faded to a sickening colour of tea dregs. It would have been the sight of an unsettling patch of wild forest if it wasn't for the corpses scattered everywhere and the blood that stained the moss on the stones to the colour of dark red. It was the aftermath of a battle, a battle that the Resistance had lost.
Two young rebel soldiers lay in the leaking earth, unmoving. Their eyes were large and wide with attention as if they were glowing on their dark faces, drenched with mud and soot. Their uniforms were ripped and ragged, although the golden Rebellion stars still shined bright on their shoulders. One of them was bleeding. The youth winced as the rain beat down on his wound mercilessly yet he could not move into a better position. Death, they knew, was hovering just overhead. Raising their heads for an instant could mean a bullet in the forehead. They did not want to die here. In the distant the air screeched and rumbled with the Machines as they prowled the area, as if they were monsters and beasts. The enemy was still very close.
"You alright?" Ash asked his friend. He tried to keep his voice steady. Although he was the youngest leader in the Resistance, he had seen his fair share of losing battles. This one, however, was the closest he ever got. He could still hear the ringing in his ears from the enemy shelling. The Judic Army had come from all sides, circling them. They fought back valiantly but the enemy artillery was just too much and too overwhelming. The Machines, two legged combat robots, made great use of their rockets and machine guns, making short work of them. Ash's throat was still hoarse from all of the shouting. He was not hurt but felt close to death. He felt as if his entire body was hanging by a thread.
There was a silence. "Hey," he said again.
His wounded friend Dean grunted in response. He was hurting and quickly slipping away from consciousness. They had been lying stomach-fist in the puddles for hours. All the others were dead, as far as Ash knew. He did not know what went wrong and he had no idea how the Judic army knew where they were. Now their robots were scrounging everywhere, finding and executing survivors. More importantly, they wanted to find Ash and make sure that the young rebel leader was wiped from the face of the earth. The only merciful thing for Ash was that his death would be swift.
A distant gunshot sounded which made them both jolt a little. Then there was a pause of silence then the rumbling, the piercing twisting of robotic gears continued.
Ears prickling, Ash was listening intently for a gap when the machines would stop. There was no clear plan in mind, but he wanted to make it back to the hill. From there, maybe to the river. Then there was a chance, a very slim chance, that they could make it back into Resistance territory. That is, if it wasn't taken over already by the Judic counterattack.
The ground shook again. The footsteps grew louder.
Then softer and softer again. Then silence, except for the beating of the rain.
Ten seconds past where Ash listened and heard nothing. For the next minute he lay there, pressing one ear hard into the dirt, feeling for any sign of movement. There was none.
"Come on," he whispered in the dark. "We've got to move."
His friend groaned, rising up a little then fell back down. "I don't think I can," he said.
"I'll carry you," he said firmly. But first he had to get up himself. With difficulty he went to his knees and crawled over. The position Dean was in did not look comfortable. Ash's heart sank as he saw pool of blood expanding at Dean's back. He was shot. It looked very bad.
"I think you've got to leave me." It was an honourable statement but Dean could not conceal the fear in it. His voice was shaking all over the place. Leaving behind would mean certain death. Or worse.
Ash shook his head. "No, you're coming with me." He pulled at his right arm and rolled Dean onto his side. The dark-skinned youth let out a cry of pain and quickly put a hand over his own mouth, supressing it. Ash listened again for the Machines but heard nothing.
"Come on," he said. "Can you sit up? Take off your bag."
Dean nodded. Slowly he removed his army bag from his shoulders, wincing, blinking rapidly in the pain. He reached back for his gun but Ash stopped him.
"Leave that," he said. He squatted down next to him and Dean slid his arms weakly around his neck. Ash began to rise and immediately felt the blood rush to his head. His knees threatened to buckle but he gritted his teeth and forced them straight.
"Thanks," said Dean. "I owe you one."
"Sure you do," Ash agreed, panting loudly. For a moment he revolved slowly on the spot, trying to find the hill. The trees all looked the same around him. "Any chance you know where to go?"
"Don't think we turned when we were running," grunted Dean. "Maybe go the opposite direction." He pointed to his gun on the ground.
Ash nodded. "A good plan as any," he muttered. He took a few ginger steps forward, his forehead throbbing painfully, but managed to break into a small run. He hadn't ate anything in ages and Dean's weight didn't help. Quite a few times he had to stop in order to restrain from falling over. His head was beginning to feel very light.
"You think anyone's still left?"
Ash kept his eyes straight forward grimly, avoiding the deep puddles of water. It was getting dark now and the forest began to look increasingly like a swamp. "I don't know," he finally whispered back.
"Jody? Mac? Red?
All
of them?"
"Didn't see much in all the commotion," Ash said. Then he added with consolation, "If we're still alive then there's a good chance they still are." He felt Dean let out a sigh a relief. "Hey, I'm sorry," he added.
"Sorry for what?"
