The Darkness You Bring

1) This is a dark and strange story. It has darkness in the title. It is inspired by "Heart of Darkness." It includes nonconsensual sex. Really - if these things are not to your taste, then please skip it and read a different story you will enjoy more.

2) It is a work of sheer fantasy in all respects, and is intended for the purposes of erotic entertainment only. In real life it is incumbent on all of us to ensure consent in any situation, and to show respect and empathy to those around us--not just with regard to sex, but in every aspect of life.

3) All characters are over the age of 18.

4) I appreciate positive comments and constructive feedback.

The first time I saw Lieutenant Reyalis, she was backlit by the floodlights at Captown harbor. Her squad was unloading their gear from the shuttle, while she directed traffic and supplied motivation. I later heard her describe the craft that brought them as a "typical provincial piece of shit," but it had been enough to catch my attention. There weren't many shuttles of any sort hitting port in those days, and it was the roar of the landing that had sparked my curiosity and drawn me from my quarters.

Her troopers were doing the work, but the lieutenant's arms, shoulders, and neck still glistened with a fine sheen of sweat in the glare of the lights. To be fair, Barnards is a steamy place, and most days I felt like I was wilting just pushing papers at my desk. But perspiration or no perspiration, Reyalis was a solid specimen of imperial DNA-massage techniques. Beneath dark hair cropped short in a severe military style, her presence was defined by a brook-no-refusal jaw and strong, sculpted musculature. Her skin and features were flawless (naturally), and her icy pale-blue eyes barely bothered to register you.

I'd never encountered an imperial shock unit before, so I was interested to see how they operate. All I can say is that I've witnessed beasts of burden out in the western burn zone who were better treated than those grunts hauling cargo. Reyalis carried herself as their queen, and made no pretense toward benevolence. If she'd had a stunnerprod, I'm sure she would have used it on them. As it was, between kicks, cuffs, and a torrent of deep-cutting obscenities, she rode them hard--putting full reliance on the stick, and none on the carrot.

The thing is, you can't genetic-engineer pride or belligerence out of a fighter, and still have them

be

a fighter. So although those soldiers sucked it up (as they evidently had to), I could sense their resentment simmering, just below the surface. Later, when I heard about the havoc they raised around town, the beatings and rapes and worse, I was hardly surprised. Those shockers were simply taking it out on someone further down the food chain than them.

The squad was here because of Kirz. To suffer such a unit to be dispatched to Barnards at all was a real black-eye for the prefect, I can tell you. But Kirz had made himself such a pain in the ass, that he was starting to generate interplanetary ripples.

It had been seven months now since we'd had any definite word out of the equatorial station at E'ban. Kirz was logistics agent there. I'd never met the man, but we'd exchanged plenty of official correspondence. I also knew Kirz was older than me, and had been with the imperial transshipment agency for a long time. In fact, he was one of the few folks on planet who'd ever been anywhere else. But other than having requested a posting to Barnards (admittedly a head-scratcher), there was nothing in the datacards that stood out about him. He seemed like a perfectly-sound, perfectly-average midrank functionary, of the sort I aspired to become.

At least, he had been... until things started going sideways. First, communications from E'ban became erratic--the bureaucratic jargon tainted by elusive notes that were just slightly off-key. Next, the outpost went radio-silent altogether. Yet even then, to be honest, no one much cared. Paperwork was created to be filed. It was only when the cargo shipments stopped arriving in Captown that serious alarm bells were sounded.

Because you see, at the end of the day, shipping useful things offworld was the sole reason the colony existed. On a thousand benighted outposts like Barnards, scattered across this arm of the galaxy, isolated settlers labored to wrest unique, irreplaceable flora and fauna and mineral wealth from their planets. From there, every bit of it flowed into the maw of empire--serving up enough energy and substance to power the vast industrial worlds, and their untold billions. If E'ban failed to fulfil its duty, then the whole edifice was affected. Not greatly affected, to be sure, but with unpredictable consequences.

The prefect had labored mightily to avoid getting on anyone's sensor-screen, naturally. First we'd sent out a hopper to check on the place. Then another. But they never came back. We didn't know if Kirz had the means to bring them down, but it seemed possible. And since there were precious few hoppers on planet, we stopped sending them after that.

We tried sending a platoon of provos. They went AWOL. Then we sent a company, and this time my colleague in transshipment was put in charge to prevent any more embarrassing failures.

Jayell was her name, and I'm afraid there was no love lost between us. We both knew that at some indefinite moment in the future, a slot would open up higher in the food chain. Perhaps the director's heart (which had long been flirting with us) would finally give out. When that day arrived, it would be either Jayell, or me. So naturally we engaged in our fair share of backbiting and professional sabotage. Still, she was a sensible girl, and I figured she'd get E'ban back on track. To be honest, I was jealous that she'd been given the assignment, and attendant glory.

But then... Jayell's party disappeared too--swallowed up by those endless, fetid, coral-hued swathes of jungle, just like the others before had been. That's when the offworlders got involved.

As a rule, the empire preferred not to resort to dropping asteroids. Even leaving aside the cost of sending a planet-pounder (not inconsiderable), such measures had an unfortunate tendency to demolish the very economic resources you were trying to secure. So, the authorities chose to deal with E'ban by surgical means instead--a squad of shockers.

Of course, shock soldiers (or 'nuke-troopers' if you prefer) are an extremely capable force of destruction in their own right. Even Reyalis's 15 plodders probably had as much firepower as an entire division of provos. And the emperor keeps a full brigade of shockers on retainer. You might remember the time a company was sent in to deal with the insurrection in New Nairobi. Took only a couple hundred troops to batter a city of 50 million inhabitants flat, with maybe half of those residents as casualties. An ugly incident, without question. But if you do something like that once, it can help keep a hundred other planets in line.

Now, as I was saying--although shockers can surely deal out damage, what sets them apart is that the damage can also be exquisitely calibrated. The grunts are genetically engineered to be radiation resistant, and carry a finely gradated assortment of mini tac-nuke rockets on their back, along with more typical weapons like flamers and autoguns. This allows them to choose just the right yield for the particular situation. So sure, if your army is good, you'll probably pick off a few of them... but then the rest will slice up your team like a hot scalpel through butter.

For this latest expedition to E'ban, I'd been designated as the civil liaison. From a nominal perspective, this meant I was in charge--but allow me to simply say that at no point in my acquaintance with Reyalis did I feel in command of events.

My emotions about the assignment were conflicted. On the one hand, after Jayell's disappearance, I felt much less confident that there was administrative glory and advancement to be won here. On the other hand, well, she hadn't had a squad of shockers with her, had she? Maybe it would all still turn out for the best.

And the troops certainly appeared confident. Whatever mayhem they may have caused while off-duty in Captown, their preparations were thorough, and their discipline in-ranks was formidable. After only a couple of days, the arrangements were complete, and we were ready to head into the bush.

Reyalis had commandeered a couple of floaters for the journey. Once hoppers were ruled out, the only viable route to E'ban was via the Heartline. The Heartline was a rough track hewn out of the tropical forest by brute force. Until recently, a steady stream of barge-floaters had plied it--bringing untold kilotons of precious raw materials to Captown for spacehaul, as well as a trickle of supplies in the other direction for Kirz and the locals.

The weird, membranous flora on Barnards grew like wildfire, so the barges had been equipped with laser-cutters, whacking the new growth back with every passage, giving it no chance to get reestablished. Now, that labor had been neglected for several months. We still had every reason to think the floaters would get us through--the track wasn't that far gone--but we braced ourselves for a slow and bumpy ride.

That first day we made good progress, 200 klicks or more. Already a fourth of the way there, and starting to look like a cakewalk. Now to be fair, we remained within the Captown resource district for most of the day. We passed a number of hamlets that I'd visited before, and every once in a while crossed a branch track leading off to some plantation or mine.

It was only as the shadows of late afternoon began stretching out before us that the Heartline became rougher and more overgrown, and signs of human influence dwindled, and we could fairly say to ourselves that we'd reached the hinterlands. From here on out, we'd be running radio-silent--comms muffled into stillness by the electrostatic interference of Barnards' wet-blanket atmosphere. Once we hit E'ban, we'd use the big telecenter there to get word out. Or, if we discovered it was fried, we'd brought along the gear for an entire field comms-array. Either way, we should have enough juice to break through.

When evening fell, we hunkered down for camp right there in the middle of the Heartline--hemmed in by two parallel rows of impenetrable jungle, stretching off into the murky distance. Reyalis posted a few sentries, while the others deployed shelters for her and for me, and heated up mealpacks.

"You'll dine here," she said as her subordinates laid out table, white cloth, and china in her tent. I couldn't tell if it was an instruction or invitation, but the answer was the same either way, and I nodded cordially.

Those shockers ate well. Later, I saw that the meals set before even the regular foot soldiers might have passed muster in my departmental dinner lounge. Not the top of chef's game, perhaps, but perfectly serviceable--and quite impressive when you consider these were mere portable rations. As for the dishes served in Reyalis's tent that evening? I've rarely feasted better.

Afterward, while I still savored a final sip of drambuie, Reyalis rose to shut the tent-flap. I imagined she wished to confer on campaign strategy, or our approach to dealing with Kirz. It was a bit of a surprise, therefore, when she paced over, glanced down her nose at me, and issued a single word of command: "strip."

The director always says that a transshipment official isn't good for much if he or she isn't flexible--and that evening I did my best to live up to the motto. Rising, I unbuttoned jacket, shirt, field-khakis, and laid them neatly over the chair (no point courting unnecessary wrinkles). Now as you know, I'd found Reyalis physically captivating from the moment I laid eyes on her. And added to that, the strangeness of the situation had also snared my fancy, in some inexplicable way. The upshot was that by the time my briefs came off, I was already well on the way to being erect.

This was probably for the best, too, because the lieutenant paused there to eye me up and down, like a barracks inspection. Next, using a very strong arm to my bare chest, she pitched me down onto her cot. I took this to mean that I'd passed muster. Well, even on the minor outworlds, prosperous families have access to basic amenities like embryonic selection and tuning. My body is sound, and I've been told my appearance is actually quite fetching.

The shockers' tropical uniforms were simple, no more than skin-tight tanktops and pants made of some highly-advanced synfabr. The stuff clung to one's form without binding, offering unreasonable protection and durability, while remaining light and breathable. Just one more offworld miracle; and in this case, one I wished fervently my tailor had access to. For the rest of the grunts, these outfits were woven in an olive-brown camouflage pattern, painfully incongruous against the peach-pink foliage found on Barnards. Reyalis's uniform, though, was rendered in an inky, light-swallowing black that made it stylish in any setting.

Now, as I watched, those pants came off, revealing long, toned, ivory legs. I'd heard rumors that the latest generations of DNAssage females had been engineered to be hairless below the neck. Ostensibly this was something to do with 'field hygiene,' but everyone knew the real reason was the current emperor's aesthetic preferences in the harem. When it came to Reyalis, I really couldn't say whether it was a matter of genetics or personal inclination--but either way, that was exactly how she presented her genitals to me.

With the bare contours of her pussy revealed that way, it was clear Reyalis was already quite aroused--labia pulling apart, inner folds plumped and glistening. I was gratified by this, but also a bit baffled.

You see, though I was still young, and had not reached the stage in my career for an advantageous marriage, I was far from inexperienced. Even junior officials had sufficient rank to be attractive to the lower orders, and I'd plowed a number of fresh-blossoming town lasses over the years. I think they liked me well enough (as I certainly enjoyed them)--but it generally transpired that I could also help them secure a commutation for a beloved brother, discharge a father's tax lien, or land themselves a residence permit for a living-pod in the blue-zone. And when these relationships reached their denouement, as they always did, I believe we both parted happy.

Yet, although these girls were far from unwilling, they invariably expected me to

play the game

first. The necessary sequence of courting and coaxing and physical stimulus had to be observed, before they would be ready for the sexual act itself, in either body or soul. Deep down, I'm sure they understood the nature of our transaction--but they would never have been so crass as to admit it, even to themselves. Thus, the kind of directness that Reyalis employed, and the way her physical desires lay so visibly near to the surface, these things were new to me. (It also made me wonder, later, whether Jayell had employed that same sort of forwardness with the young lads she laid claim to. Perhaps...)

Straddling me with those muscular thighs, Reyalis leaned down to kiss my neck. I yearned to push up her tank-top, to run my hands over her dangling breasts, but a sense of caution held me back. Then she sucked my flesh into her mouth, hard and brutal, and I forgot everything else. My body jerked and my mouth loosed a cry. The overtones of pain her affections produced were sublime--reminding me of the stories of the Altairan incubus-bat, whose victims lie there in an ecstasy while it drains their bodies dry. It was the kind of thing that sent a jagged edge of alarm through my brain; yet at the same time made me feel alive, and thrilled me, and awakened cravings for more.

Slowly, firmly, possessively, Reyalis ranged down my collar-bone and pecs this way, leaving a trail of welts. She bit my nipple with her teeth, very near to the point of breaking the skin, and I writhed. Then, with a sneer playing faintly over her lips, she spit on her hand, gave my now rock-hard shaft a few perfunctory strokes, and shifted position to take me inside her.

The feel of one cunt is not so very much different than the next, I think it's fair to say. The lieutenant's was tight and wet and hot, of course, and I very much enjoyed being there. Really, though, it was the visual sensations--and the thoughts and feelings they gave rise to--that truly fired me up.

As you may be aware, a generation or two back, a clinic in Captown was endowed by the chief-concubine of that time. And even today, its front-entrance is graced by an anatomically precise holo-monument to her naked form, tended with loving care by the prefecture. Well, as I gazed up at Reyalis, her lines evoked that holoimage for me, approaching very near to it in their perfection. So: to see my penis penetrating the sacred temple of a woman like that? To know that a modest provincial official like me had bedded one of Celestria's genetic elites? It was exhilarating in a way that mere physical stimuli could never match.

Reyalis ground her pelvis hard against me, pleasuring her clitoris on my groin, rubbing her insides against my pole. The adrenaline rush of it was more than I could handle, and I felt my cock begin straining up into her, felt my back arching, felt myself teetering on the brink of losing control--like some hayseed virgin slumming the Captown brothels for the first time.

The woman was too canny not to catch the signs of it, though. With a ruthless swipe, she raked her claws across my chest, leaving crimson tracks. Her sting shocked me out of my rhythm, knocked me back on my heels, thus neatly derailing the orgasm that threatened to overwhelm me. I was maddened by her assault, but grateful for it as well.

Steadily, commandingly, Reyalis continued to ride me. For long minutes she rocked her hips, closing her eyes to soak up the sensation. Then at last she began building toward her own conclusion. For that final stretch, she set to bouncing her body up and down on my shaft. It was slow at first, but soon she was pounding faster and faster, ramming me up into her vagina, reaming herself out with decisive strokes. I did what I could to thrust back in time to her tempo, but beyond the three-dimensional positioning of my cock she appeared little concerned with anything I did.

Finally, with a resounding

thwack

, she landed hard, smashing herself against my pubic bone. Snaking a hand down to her crotch, she kneaded her fingers against her mons, tugging and stretching the delicate skin of her gash in such a way as to magnify her sensations even further. And then, with eyes still squeezed tight shut, she allowed her head to roll back in a sign of passionate release.

For long seconds, her shoulders quaked, and her chest heaved, and she drew in huge, airy breaths through open lips. Seeing her climax brought me back to the edge of that frenzy she'd denied me before. For the brief interval of our shared rapture, she suffered me to dig my fingers into her rounded hips. And then, pushing back with as much leverage as I could muster, I commenced to shooting rapturous, leaping, pearlescent jets of cum inside her.

Afterward, I lay there breathing hard, while Reyalis rose and pulled on her pants. Crumpling up my clothes in a bundle, she dropped them on my chest without ceremony. "I'm done with you," she said, entirely matter-of-fact. Then she opened the tent door and left to check on the security arrangements.

Sheepishly, I dressed in plain view of any soldiers who cared to peer through the opening. On the skulk back to my own quarters, I couldn't deny feeling slightly soiled. I was only glad the fashion in dress-shirts that year favored high-collars.