Lone Huntress

The multimeter's LED screen flickered as the probes connected with delicate circuitry. As the device detected abnormalities, hand tools were applied, cleaning, replacing, restoring. Making the functional the exceptional. Finally, the probes were withdrawn; the tool put away, the cover plate reinserted. I admired its streamlined form, its promise of swift justice, my lips curved in a slight smile of appreciation. Then, as the smile faded, I popped off my right hand and snapped the gun into its place.

Being a cyborg has its advantages.

But sometimes the price seems a little high.

I rose from my workbench, in my armory, where I kept my tools, and the tools that kept those tools functioning. My guns. My missiles. My armor. Oh, my armor. My lovely, lonely suit of armor. My refuge, against all that would hurt me. Few have ever seen me without it.

I paid a high price for the armor, too.

I traced one finger along the contours of the suit, the rounded, almost organic curves of the surface, designed to deflect attacks by denying them an even striking plane, running my fingertip over the sealed joints, which retained flexibility while ensuring a maximum of protection against not only weapons, but hostile environments as well. My finger reached the button to open the suit, to raise it's visored helm and bulky breastplate. Then I climbed in, relishing the smell of sweat, excitement, and fear, soaked in too deeply to ever be washed clean, and the feeling of being surrounded by the metal, plastic, and energy. The feeling of being wrapped in the protective embrace of a cherished friend, one who had never let me down, and never would.

Once my suit had finished its automated warm up sequence, I made my way down to the holding pen. Although I usually preferred my prey killed rather than captured, the bounty on this one was just too good to pass up. I passed through the portal to the bare room, its center dominated by a few cages, one of bars of the hardest metal ever to be used for the purpose, one of delicate circuitry that would form an energy barrier around my quarry rather than metal, and one of flexible airtight polymers. No matter what my bounty's abilities, I had a cage that could hold it, at least long enough to reach the proper authorities.

My prey huddled in the metal cage, his arms and legs shackled to the center. Just enough chain to give him the freedom to stretch his limbs. Not enough to so much as touch the bars of his cage. I wasn't about to take any chances with this scum.

Call me paranoid.

He glanced up as I entered the pen, and his teeth shone in a dazzling smile. His eyes danced with delight at my approach. Every inch of him screamed delight at my presence.

Jerk.

"Feeding time, scum," I told him, as I tossed him a couple of ration bars through the cage, along with a liter squeeze packet of water. He caught the water deftly, despite his chains, and raised his drink in a toast. "Thank you, fair lady," he said, with the voice of a dear friend, a lover, a father...

I raised my gun. "Knock it off," I told him. His smile froze momentarily, before he nodded cheerfully, his good vibes toned down a notch.

"You'll forgive me if I maintain a LITTLE charm..." he cocked one eyebrow. "Simply in the interest of providing good company, oh hostess." I regarded him warily.

"Be pleasant if you wish," I retorted, "but I'll forfeit the bonus for a live bounty before I let you charm me into freeing you."

Call me forthright.

He nodded pleasantly. "No need to worry, fair huntress. I shall save my powers for those who'd put such a price on my head. Which would be...?"

I smiled behind my helmet. "Francine desDesmonde."

Madame desDesmonde is one of the ruling heads of the plutocracy of Signus IV. Her wealth is beyond imagining, as vast as the galaxy itself. Her beauty is the finest money can buy-exquisite, that is. Her gorgeous face, accentuated by the finest cosmetics, her lithe, slender body, garbed in clothes that rival my suit for sheer monetary value. And her soul, as hard and unforgiving as the cold floor Romeo lay on.

Romeo, my bounty. His face and form may have been less than perfect at one time. Now they were the perfection of a surgeon's art. Paid for by Francine. She'd loved him for his mind. Literally. Romeo was a projective telepath, able to influence the thoughts of others. Everyone he met fell in love with him. And was used by him. He'd lived his life in one bed after another, leaving shattered lives and broken hearts in his wake, grieving men and women who pined away ever after, even knowing what he was.

Only now, he'd abandoned the wrong woman. A woman utterly ruthless, and wealthy enough to afford my services. Romeo's face paled at the name. I grinned openly. Too bad he couldn't see it through my faceplate. "She REALLY wants to see you again," I taunted him. "When I talked to her, she couldn't seem to decide whether to let you live through your reunion."

"Oh, no," he moaned. "You don't know what she's LIKE!"

"Rich, beautiful, and pliable. What more could a con man have wanted?"

He turned imploring eyes on me. "She killed a man. Right in front of me. Killed him herself. Then she made me make love to her, because the killing aroused her!" He shuddered. "She takes pleasure in hurting people. It took everything I had to keep her satisfied with normal sex, without the whips and chains!"

"Surely the rewards were worth the effort?"

He shivered again. "She's bound to whip those things out, this time." He shook his head sadly.

"Shouldn't have run," I suggested. "Hell hath no fury..." I turned, and walked out.

*************************

Gentle hands ran across my slick flesh, slippery with sweat. I moaned quietly, my body arching towards those skilled hands, desperate for more. A tongue lashed my nipples, painfully hardened, before teeth nipped at them playfully. I gasped and whimpered, caressing a muscular back. The mouth made its way upward, slowly, lingering at each square inch of flesh to plant a loving kiss, until it reached my mouth, where... it claimed me. Lips that seared my own like a brand, parting them to spear my mouth with a tongue like molten iron. I responded in kind, laying claim to my lover with everything I had.

The hands drifted about, finding all my most sensitive places, and making them scream for more. My legs spread, wider and wider, in abject submission. A shaft, iron hard, touched the opening to my dripping pussy. I moaned, my hands grabbing my lover's tight ass to pull him in. But that shaft refused to be forced, instead entering slowly, agonizingly slowly... for less than an inch. Then it slowly retracted.

I cried out in frustration. My voice called out without my volition, its tones grown husky and hoarse with desperate desire. I begged for more, the humiliation of surrender only heightening my arousal.

The shaft entered again, slower than before. This time, it reached an inch and a half. Then retracted again.

I moaned loudly, like a wounded beast, my anguished bellow more eloquent than any words. The shaft entered again, achingly slowly. Two inches. And retracted. I jabbered incoherently, offering everything I had to my tormentor. My heart. My soul. My life. I would have gladly died, if only I could have reached completion first.

Slowly, achingly slowly, it entered. Two and a half inches. I was in heaven, Paradise was mine.

Slowly, treacherously, it withdrew. I was in hell, Perdition was my lot.

In... Three inches... Out...

Whimper.

In... Three and a half... OUT...

Howl.

In... Four inches... OUT...

Scream.

My lover held that devastating weapon over my quivering cunt, as I cried and thrashed my head from side to side. My arms were pinned to my side by strong hands. Those exquisite lips whispered in my ear. A demand. Surrender...

Yes.

Possession...

YES.

Love...

YES!

That evil, awful, wonderful rod slammed home, with one smooth motion. As my legs wrapped around a trim waist in a vice grip, and my arms wrapped around a strong neck, those lips claimed me for their own. Strong arms wrapped me in a tight embrace. And my body exploded, in a conflagration of love and ecstasy...

*****************************

I jerked awake with a start. For a moment there, I just lay there, rigid, my bed sheets soaked with sweat. I could feel the juices dripping down my legs from my unconscious orgasm. Then I fell back limply, before curling up into a ball, as the tears started. I grabbed my pillow and sobbed bitter tears into the pillow case, as my chest began to heave with the effort of my weeping.

By no means the first erotic dream I'd ever had, this one had truly come at a bad time. I made disgusting little squealing noises, as fluids dripped from my eyes and nose. So alone. I was so alone...

When I'd cried enough that I could stand up, I went to the bathroom. A full length mirror adorned one wall. I'd put it there on purpose, so I could stare at my body, and revel in the feelings of inadequacy.

Call me a masochist.

My breasts were large, firm, and topped with enormous nipples. Hardly the small cones that were required to be counted beautiful by sophisticated society. They gave way to a waist corded with hard muscle, rippling and bulging through the skin, where an attractive woman would have had a tiny little waist, with nary a trace of masculine muscular definition. My arms and legs were equally well muscled, more muscular than even those of the pretty boy in the holding pen. Not the slim, rounded limbs of the fair flowers that men doted on. And long. No dainty petite thing, was I. I towered six feet above the floor while still in my teens, still growing. My hair was green, its natural color, perfectly normal on my home world. Not the delicate blondes and reds of the beautiful people.

I was a freak. An oversized behemoth...

I looked down at my right hand and my despair intensified. A metal hand. Not mine by choice. My reminder of my decision to hunt pirates, the scourge of the universe, to make them pay for what had been done to me.

Other reminders of past battles marked my body, old scars, each a reminder of a fight just barely won, of impossible odds somehow overcome.

No fashion model working for Kelvin Rheine ever had a cybernetic limb. Or had a scarred body.

After staring in revulsion at my freakishly large body for an uncounted time, I finally turned away in despair. I walked back to my bed, reached into my nightstand and withdrew the cure for such feelings. It glistened with dried fluids, it's knobbed surface promising to punish my cunt beyond endurance for the sin of belonging to such a hideous woman. I flicked the switch to the low setting, and it buzzed angrily. I'm going to fuck you, it seemed to whine. I'm going to blow your mind, make you forget your troubles.

I pushed it in, sighing as the pleasurable torture began. Then I gritted my teeth, working up the nerve, then flicked the switch all the way to the highest setting. And went into spasms, my limbs jerking spasmodically, jabbering incoherent cries to an unknown lover, as my cunt, still sensitive from my dream, surrendered without a struggle to being raped by an inanimate object, my clit screaming in orgasm.

I climaxed again and again, until my mind was melted, and I forgot how lonely I was, and I could finally fall asleep.

****************************************

"Breakfast, scum," I greeted Romeo cheerfully, as I chucked the rations and water at him. He opened his eyes and smiled in greeting. "Don't even start," I added, holding my gun up for him to see. "I've got the ice beam activated. It won't kill you-unless you tip over-but it sure won't feel good."

"At least stay to talk with me," he implored, raising up one ration. "Share my meal with me."

"I've eaten, thanks. The rat bars are for the scum in the cages." I sneered at him through my mask.

"I'm lonely." He said it quietly, without pretense.

I shivered in sudden empathy. Loneliness is a feeling I know all too well.

"Join the club," I snarled.

He peered through my visor, trying to see into my eyes. I knew he must be trying to touch my mind as well. Good luck. My helmet's proof against telepathic attacks. Came in mighty handy against telepaths, like the Fay.

Call me well prepared.

"You know," he said slowly, "I get so used to being around people, it's hard being alone. Do you ever get used to it?"

I stood there a moment, staring at nothing in particular, before I aimed my gun straight between his eyes. I snarled with sudden rage. He stepped back in sudden alarm. "What?" he stammered, "I just asked a question!"

My gun held rock steady, despite my inner turmoil. The rest of my body trembled, but my aim held true.

Call me a pro.

Romeo swallowed, choosing his words carefully, before he spoke. "I'm not the only one on this ship who's lonely. Am I?"

I continued to point my gun at him, switching the beam to the laser, to slice him to ribbons. Then I slowly lowered my arm, until it hung at my side.

"No. You're not."

"I can't read your mind through that suit," he said. "Will you at least stay here and talk to me?"

I considered it. I honestly did. I wouldn't be in any danger. He couldn't get into my head. We could just talk...

I turned away with effort. "Maybe after my workout."

**********************************

My breathing was slow and deep, the relaxed rhythm of a deep sleeper. This in stark contrast to my body, which rested upon the palms of my hands, arms supporting my full weight. My torso was bent in a curve, my legs curling behind my back to dangle next to my head. Another in a series of ancient exercises that combined stretching, breathing, and strength training, mental and physical conditioning, all in one. I held the modified Scorpion pose, for twenty deep breaths, before uncoiling my spine to stand perfectly erect on my hands. Hold the pose. Lower myself into a headstand. Hold. Lower myself into a shoulder stand, resting on my neck and shoulder blades, wedging my arms into my back, for added support. Hold. And lower myself to the Corpse pose, lying sedately on the floor, breathing deeply. A quiet cooldown period.

When I rose to my feet, my body felt enervated, relaxed. I smiled. Time for the technical stuff. I made my way over to my simulator, removed my hand, and strapped myself into the suit, with it's virtual reality helmet, suspended to allow the freedom to move freely without moving an inch. I chose a simulation for the day. The desert mountains of Hades.

Hades? What made me think of that place?

The desolate landscape appeared before my eyes. I began to run, the suit's synthetic muscles providing resistance to simulate perfectly the feel of hard rocky terrain underneath my feet. The BEM space pirates began to appear on my screen. Their armored bodies clacked their claws menacingly, as they swooped in, shooting their energy weapons with inhuman precision.

I dodged, twisted, leapt, spun. For this simulation I'd removed the programming for hand to hand attacks. Only my beam guns and missiles were available to me.

Of course, I kept the full power of my gun. A devastating blast of awful energies shot forth from my hand, vaporized a Bug Eyed Monster in a spray of exploding tissues. I so love my hand gun.

Call me an old fashioned kind of girl.

As I slammed yet another pirate, it suddenly hit me, why I'd chosen to fight on Hades. Where I'd had my encounters, not only with the BEMs and their awful Queen. It was where I'd lost the Tigerkitten.

I twisted and dodged as the memories played back in my head. How the genetically engineered humanoid feline had leapt onto the Queen, and died in the pounce. How it had sacrificed itself for me. Because it had imprinted me as it's mother. It had loved me.

One of the few creatures to ever love me.

When the simulation had ended, I climbed out of the simulation suit, and grabbed my hand. I made my way over to the bathroom, removed my leotard, and turned on the shower. I gave myself over to the sybaritic bliss of hot water and sensual soaps...

When I was fully cleaned, I dried myself with a big, fluffy towel, soft and comfy. Even with all the money I spend on ordnance, I still have plenty left over for a few luxuries. I patted myself dry, and climbed into my armor.

*********************************

"Food, scum," I informed Romeo pleasantly, as I tossed the food at him.

He looked down at what I'd given him, looked up at me. "Will you join me?" he asked.

"I'll stay and watch you eat," I answered, tapping my helmet. "This stays on."

He tore open a bar, took a big bite, and chewed meditavely. "So," he finally asked, "what made you decide to become a Bounty Hunter?"

I stiffened. "That's my secret."

He glanced at me, then at my gun hand. "Did it have anything to do with that?" he gestured.

I looked down at it, glared at him. "Yes."

He took another bite, washed it down with a long swallow of water. Then he looked down at the squeeze packet, studying the material. "I'm not like that," he said. "I never hurt anyone."

"You left a lot of broken hearts behind you."

Romeo shook his head in denial. "All I did to anyone was show them a better world, a better life, then they'd dreamed they could have. I never hurt them when I left. They just... couldn't handle going back to the way things were, before."

I shook my head. "You lived on their wealth until they couldn't support you anymore."

"No." He was firm. "I never left anyone destitute. They might have quit their jobs or squandered their wealth afterwards, but I never left them in need."

"You left them addicts."

He glanced up, and smiled slyly. "Thank you for that." He sipped his water, thoughtfully. "They could have tried drugs, or even current stimulation. Their lives were their own. I never forced myself into their beds. I pleasured them because they wanted it. I left them when I wanted to."

"With nary a care for your lovers."

"What?" He glared at me. "I should have let myself be kept by them? Am I a person or a possession?"

I thought about that one, while he ate his rat bar. Finally, I answered.

"If you're in love... you're both."

He jerked up. "What?"

"If you're in love, you're still a person. But you still belong to another." I bit my lip to keep from crying, as tears suddenly began to form. "And they belong to you. You betrayed them by leaving."

"They didn't have to let my departure upset them," he stubbornly insisted.

"Then my leaving won't upset you." I turned and stalked away.

**************************************

I whimpered in pleasure, my hands caressing my lover's head, as it nestled deeper between my thighs, lips and tongue exploring my inner folds. I murmured quiet endearments, telling my beloved of my feelings. That artful mouth murmured reciprocal expressions of adoration, the vibrations causing my legs to tremble spasmodically.

The mouth lifted from my slit, began nuzzling my green pubic hairs. I smiled lazily, stroked that wonderful head and those strong shoulders. The mouth reached my belly, began to slowly kiss its way in a spiral pattern. Finally, it centered on my navel, began to lick and suck.

I moaned, the inarticulate sound saying more than words ever could. And again I moaned, loader. Unable to speak, I let my soft vocalizations tell my darling how much I loved, LOVED...

The kisses began to climb again, before the mouth finally reached the cleft between my breasts. As I sighed happily, strong hands raised my breasts up, so the tongue could lick the sweat from underneath. Even my excretions were ambrosia to my lover...

The mouth fastened on my nipple, first one, then the other, sucking gently, lick a baby feeding. If I could have, I'd have slaked his thirst with lactating fluids, let him savor the milk from my body. The mouth rose higher. It sucked and nibbled on the side of my throat like a vampire searching for the jugular. I clasped it close, offering myself as a vampire's victim offers herself in surrender to a sublime end.