A Murder - A Maker Pt. 02

"I have friends in high society," he declared, a thin trace of defensiveness behind the superiority in his tone. He leaned forward, head lowered until he caught my gaze again, and the sharp intensity there refused to let me glance away again. "So I know exactly what you are. I suspected it from the instant I heard about your eyes, but I never expected to see an empath come through... Here." His lips twisted into a sardonic look. "The others don't know, of course. A product only a bare fraction of humanity can afford doesn't need an ad campaign, after all."

His hand lifted as he spoke, though I continued to meet his gaze and could only vaguely spot its progress in my peripheral vision. It touched the zipper at my throat, waited, then slowly began pulling it down. My hands were still bound, but had they been free I would not have been able to move. I stared back at him, fear, embarrassment, and a swirl of anticipation resting heavy within me, all growing stronger at the sharpened resolve he showed as he studied my expression. He stopped lowering the zipper an inch or two above my breasts, my breath catching and confusion rising as he straightened.

"Who do you belong to?" he asked, stepping around behind me and rolling the collar of my uniform down on every side, exposing the tattoo making a band around my neck. I felt the back of a knuckle trace along the markings and, my expression safe from him, let my eyes flutter shut at the contact. I fought a shiver, and when I didn't provide an immediate answer he added,

"If you don't answer, I could just scan it."

"If you checked it against the registry they might wonder why, warden," I answered. He was still behind me but his irritation was palpable. I rushed, "I did not mean to anger you. I belonged to a man called Richmond Essar, but he is dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes. Pirates boarded our ship. They killed him and took everything."

"Sir. Address me with respect, prisoner. And how did you end up here?" he said, stepping back around to stand in front of me, looking down.

"Sir," I echoed deferentially, eyes dropping. "We came to Mars. They had trade of some sort, but I do not know the details. During the trip they grew complacent with me and did not think it necessary to keep a close watch, even on the surface, so... I fled." The lie had a hollow ring to it, at least to me. It had been hasty - I had nearly shared everything and only caught myself on the cusp of relaying the truth. I stirred uncomfortably, glancing up, and fear surged as Bryce reached forward to take my jaw in his hand, forcing my head higher. When our eyes locked I realized he did not doubt me - no anger or distrust showed in his eyes, only a nearly savage look of victory.

"So you ran from them, and ended up here," he said. "I'm going to keep you, empath."

"Sir?" I asked hesitantly, my eyes widening.

His expression darkened, grip on my jaw tightening until I let out a soft noise of pain and began to squirm on the stool, arms tugging at the manacles.

"No one is ever going to come for you," he told me. "You have no identification. Your owner is dead and as far as everyone is concerned you died with him. And in you... I have something others only dream of. People who mock this backwater station couldn't afford a tenth of you."

He released me, then, and I pulled back with a deep breath. My heart had sunk with his words, and I struggled to say something in reply but couldn't manage to phrase anything. He noticed the indecision and sneered, reaching down to take the zipper and yank it down powerfully, unzipping the uniform to my navel. He batted back the material on either side of the deep plunge, exposing my breasts before straightening. There was something different about him, charged now, pent-up and aggressive.

"You slut," he growled, and as I ducked my head he reached forward to seize it and yank my gaze back upon him. "There's no reason for you to be upset. This is what you're made for." His words lanced into me, a twinge in my stomach spreading outward, and swallowed as I helplessly looked back up at him. Releasing me, he stepped back and flicked a hand down to point at the floor.

"Get on your knees."

Obediently I slid forward, a sudden burst of pain spiking through me as my knuckles slammed into the stool on the way down. I caught myself hastily, the short laugh from him jarring me further, and settled onto my knees and heels before looking back up to the warden.

"You want your handcuffs unlocked?" he jeered, seemingly engulfed by the headiness of his power. "You'll earn that privilege, slut. And you'll be grateful." As he spoke he undid the front of his pants, scooping out his already-hardened phallus. It was average, perhaps a little thick, but average has a way of looking quite large from an inch away.

"Well?"

I swallowed at the question, my chest tight, and sucked in a shallow breath before leaning forward and opening my mouth to engulf the head of his cock. I paused there to mentally brace myself, though even as my discomfort and humiliation remained in full force a sense of craving had started to build in my stomach. My tongue slid forward to drag against the bottom of his head, then I slid forward, weight shifting further onto my knees as I sank deeper around the member. It hardened further, if only slightly, and I heard his breathing change as I reached a little beyond halfway, causing the head of his cock to nudge against the entrance of my throat. I started to pull back slowly, tongue circling his member before I drew in a short breath and pushed forward again. This time, as I reached the point I had stopped before, the warden knotted a hand in the hair at the back of my head and roughly jerked me toward him, causing the shaft to spear forward, shoving down my throat, and my nose was crushed against his jacket. I shuddered and tried to pull back but his grip was too powerful for me to overcome, and when I managed to look up he was smirking down at me, little tremors affecting his face with each clench of my muscles around his member.

I couldn't breathe. I started to panic, in tandem with the wretched glee at my debasement, but it seemed as though he intended to hold me there forever. My lungs began to scream and I shuddered against him, but finally he pulled back in a sudden motion and I reflexively gasped in a deep breath, immediately coughing afterward. Saliva coated my chin with the convulsions, and I felt some fall onto my chest and thighs, but I didn't have the opportunity to look down before his other hand was pinching my jaw to open my mouth for another forceful thrust.

"Look at me," he commanded, and I dragged my eyes up to meet his face. He plunged as deep into my throat as he could once again, holding it for just long enough for me to fear a repeat of his first act. My worry clearly showed, and he smirked in amusement as he pulled back until the head of his cock rested in my mouth again, then thrust deeper. The excruciating, slow pace continued, our eyes locked on each other, and my panic and resistance slowly eroded away in the way of helpless lust. Each time he pulled back I began to lave him with my tongue, and each time he drove himself into me I shuddered at the invasion.

Finally he pulled out entirely, clearly straining for control. I began to sag down but he whirled away and the fist in my hair dragged me along with him, sending jolts of pain through my scalp. I grunted and awkwardly hopped forward, trying to rise, but before I managed much he forced me lengthwise over the table and flipped me onto my back. I grunted again, wincing as my arms were pinned beneath me. He stepped around to the end of the table my head was nearest and pulled me in that direction, until my shoulders lay on the edge and my head lolled back toward the floor.

Oh, I realized, spotting the glistening member hanging in the air. There was an arch to my back, with my hands trapped beneath me and my head fallen off the table, and for a moment the warden merely stared down at me, gaze flick from my face to my upthrust breasts. I knew my nipples were stiff and my exposed skin had lightly pebbled, and shame welled up under his gaze. Finally, he stepped forward, head of his cock pushing through yielding lips and forcing its way through my mouth and into my throat once more.

"Look at you," he hissed, though it sounded almost as if he wasn't speaking to me. "What a fucking whore." My own view in this position left much to be desired, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't have time to dwell on that, however, because a jolt of ecstasy shot through me as a hand clamped around my neck, and I felt his fingers and palm squeezing down on the vulnerable flesh. The pressure made the presence of his member all the more undeniable, and I squirmed as he started roughly fucking my mouth. I could never get quite enough breath, and pain radiated from my shoulders, but little thrills shot through me with each overbearing thrust.

Suddenly his other hand seized one of my breasts. I hadn't realized how sensitive my skin had become during all this, and the flood of pleasure as he squeezed down roughly drew a choked moan from my throat, a foot scraping along the desk's surface before falling off the edge, my hips lifting and thudding back down. He growled something I couldn't quite make out, the calloused pad of a thumb dragging over my nipple as the pace of his thrusts into my throat picked up. I shuddered and clenched my hands into fists beneath me, needing more from him.

Instead he drove forward so hard the back of my skull caught the edge of the desk, and I felt a sudden spurt of cum down my throat. He pulled back the instant he began to climax, breaking free of my lips narrowly in time to strike my cheek, the salty fluid sliding up my cheek to rest in the hollow of one eye. His breathing was labored and husky as he orgasmed, and he painted cum over my lips, collarbone, and breasts before finally sagging down to brace a hand against the desk, just beside my head. After a moment to collect himself, the warden reached forward to take a handful of my uniform and twist me around, sliding me off the desk and to my feet. He gestured downward, muttering an order to clean him up.

I had to keep one eye closed as I sank to my knees and leaned forward, finding the head of his increasingly flaccid cock and diligently cleaning it. I wanted to clean myself, too, but my wrists were entirely raw now and no one seemed in any rush to unbind me. I could feel the semen that had gathered under my brow ridge, upset with the change of orientation, now trailing its way along the corner of my eye and down my cheek, before it was too thinned out to travel any further. A strand of saliva lay across my jaw. I felt used, and a glance upward at the warden's face only reinforced that. But it couldn't sway the unsatisfied fire within me, yearning that he would take me by the throat again and maul me anew, reinforce my place beneath him and make me come by his hand.

Instead he rearranged his clothing and leveraged me to my feet. We were out of the office before I realized what was happening, and fear suddenly grasped my heart. We walked down the hall toward the elevators, and I tried to muster a question a few times before speaking.

"Are... Uhm. Sir?"

He was walking behind me, now, on the side of my closed eye, and I couldn't easily turn to see his expression. He answered with an inquiring grunt.

"I can't go-" I began, then caught myself and hesitated. Tact, servility. Swallowing, I pitched my voice lower and asked, "May I clean myself before I go back? And... My cuffs?" The question alone caused me to stir uneasily, a flutter in the back of my stomach, and as we stopped outside the elevator doors I turned to study him. His expression was dry and amused, gaze lowering to rake over my skin and the strands of cum decorating it, uniform still pulled open and exposing my chest. He smirked, gave me a light shove to send me into the elevator, and said,

"Of course not."

Of course not. I was a trophy to be displayed, after all, and how could the warden's grip be shown off without some lewd display to the other prisoners? They would see me for what I was, and the warden's ego would be appeased. Trapped in the sick pleasure and revulsion of such thoughts, I silently paced along with the warden, following our earlier route back to the large door blocking the dormitory off from the rest of the complex. Bryce halted me just before it and moved aside to engage the keypad, and I quietly observed as he slid a cylindrical rod identical to the one Collin had used when I was first delivered. The door began scraping open heavily, and as the crack to one side began to widen I tensed anxiously, fingers curling and uncurling behind my back. I could see people within, casual glances toward the door as it opened becoming surprised -and intent- stares as they saw me, and the humiliation nearly sent me to the ground. I started to scan their faces, looking for the few I could recognize, but a small click behind me and the sudden release of tension on my wrists caught my attention. Before I could turn a heavy weight slammed into the small of my back and the warden sent me flying into the room even as the heavy door began to grind its way shut. I landed hard, sprawling out on the ground, but I managed to catch myself to a degree and curled onto my side.

I still felt eyes upon me, and knew the range from disgust to hunger that filled them. I nearly curled up and hid my head in my arms, and while I resisted the urge, I could not find the strength to rise or face any of my observers. A sudden need to clean myself welled up, and the cooled ropes against my skin felt like stains I needed to scrub away. I reached up to wipe at my covered eye but a hand caught my wrist midway, the pain emanating from the raw skin suffusing my voice as I let out a yelp and tried to jerk away.

"Easy, Min," came Riss' grunted assurance as she kept hold of me. I paused, rolling onto my back and turning my head to spot her. She offered me a wan smile and let go of my wrist, other hand lightly patting the side of my head - safely back, in the hair - and said,

"You ain't gonna want any of that shit getting on your uniform. You won't get a chance to wash it out. Come on, huh? We'll get you cleaned off." She helped me up slowly, and when I spared a glance around I realized no one else was watching anymore, engaged in other tasks or simply looking away with studied indifference. There were no showers in the dormitory, instead located at a separate block of the complex only available at certain times, and under supervision. And so Riss guided me through to the back, reaching the metal basin beneath a sink, beside the dorm's sole water fountain, and turned on the faucet, as I fought tears and did my best to hide that fact.

"It's not that bad," she soothed quietly, letting me lean against the basin's frame as she soaked a cloth. "Everyone knows the warden's a real prick. No one's gonna fuck with you here, at least not until we're long gone." She turned and started wiping me off, starting at the abdomen and working her way up, wiping Bryce's seed off my chest. I closed my open eye and let my shoulders sag, remaining quiet as she spoke and worked. She wiped off my neck, folded the cloth over, and gently cleaned my face before taking a second cloth, dampening it, and running over my exposed skin again. Her touch was gentle and didn't linger, and when she had finished she tugged the uniform back up over my shoulders and zipped it up, then gave me a light pat on the cheek.

"There."

All the latent hunger and need and debasement that had accompanied me with the warden, even as I was cast back into the dormitory, had vanished. The intense disgust and feel of tarnishment had eased too, now that I was clean, and I felt back at some sort of equilibrium. Sometimes the tides of my emotions could be disorienting, and I was grateful that it passed. I offered her a drained smile and slumped against the rim of the sink, drawing my hands up to gingerly rub at one wrist.

"At least my hands are free, now," I decided, quiet and cheerful.

"Mm," Riss agreed. "And a good handful of guards probably had an eye on you as you were marching all around like that." She said it as if it were a good thing, and I was so caught off guard that I looked up in alarm before her meaning clicked. Guards who had seen, at least those who weren't utterly revolted, would be guards of a mind to press their chances with me. Guards who did that might provide an opening to spring her plan and allow for our escape. The thought was heartening, but the manner of the role I played in it had my shoulders slouching down a little lower. Riss moved up beside me, hands dipping beneath the faucet, and scrubbed her palms together vigorously. I watched her for a few seconds, then asked,

"What is it like to have pride?"

She glanced over, eyebrows rising.

"I mean... You have resolve," I said. "When they tried to take advantage of you, you fought back, and you must have known it would end poorly." I wanted to say more, but finding the right words was proving difficult. She seemed to take my meaning anyway, reaching forward to turn the faucet off before turning her attention wholly upon me.

"It's easy to worry that you ain't got something like that, even if you do," she told me. She glanced across the dormitory toward the entrance, then scanned the other prisoners dispersed through the area. "For a lotta these people, if they went through what you were just had, assuming half of it, they'd be a lot more beat down than you are right now. Plenty of people ain't got resolve, or they've got it but it's brittle."

"Doesn't that mean they have more of a regard for themselves?" I asked.

She shrugged. "It means you're resilient, and that's a good thing. C'mon."

I watched as she stepped away from the sink, taking a few seconds before pushing off and trailing after. The answers hadn't entirely satisfied me, but I felt calm, and clean, and supposed I didn't need full answers right away. She dropped onto her bunk and slid back to sit at the head, slouching back against the wall, so I moved to settle on the opposite end and face her. She watched me for a time, and I was content to wait quietly.

"Fuck," she said. I blinked, realizing my gaze had lost focus, and fixed her with a curious look at the expletive. She offered a sheepish grin and said, "I'm the wrong type to ask about deeper meanings and things like that. I was trying to think of something, but..." She shrugged again. "I don't put a lot of thought into that kind of stuff."

I had to bite my tongue not to interrupt her, and when she had finished I said,

"It's fine. I was just curious, and trying to get my mind off things." I gathered my hands in my lap, attention shifting away to take in the rest of the room. It was the first time I could keep my gaze on the others I watched, and none seemed to be watching me in return. Tren, Mark, and Tull were engage in another piece-less game, and I suspected I would be able to make as little sense of it from up close as I could from Riss' bunk. Refocusing on her, I asked,

"When we go, what about everyone else here? I've felt as if we would be betraying them, in a way, sneaking off and leaving them to their fates."

She snorted quietly, shaking her head. "It'd take a different plan, getting a crowd out. More forceful, too, and then you've got to figure out how to move everyone. Us, we're trying to sneak off, and security's lax enough we'll be banking on getting out without anyone noticing right away." She paused, then lifted a hand to twirl in an all-encompassing gesture. "Besides, most of these guys wouldn't risk it. You try and get out, you're probably dead or looking at manual labor for decades. A lot of them aren't facing anything too steep. They had the door open over there, and they'd keep sitting."