Cry Havoc Chapter 3 - Obedience

——————————

I moved through the sterile hallways, heading back to Cernunnos along the same route I had taken to the hangar. My footsteps echoed against the polished floor, their sound bouncing off the blank white walls. The corridor stretched before me, identical to the one behind: white walls, recessed lighting, reinforced doors at regular intervals marked with alphanumeric designations. Ka Corporation valued efficiency over aesthetics. No art adorned these walls, no color broke the monotony. Function over form.

Just like me.

Step by step, I followed the visor’s directions, turning through tunnel after tunnel. I passed several people wearing civilian clothing walking the tunnels: Corporate clerks, technicians, or administrators, most likely. They flattened themselves against the walls to let me pass, and none spoke a word to me.

The final corridor led to the chamber in which I had awakened, the only room of my own I had ever known. My pace slowed almost imperceptibly as I approached the door. Not out of fear—going through a battle had all but confirmed I was incapable of fear now—but because of the conflict between my conditioning and the inconvenient remainders of whatever had once been beneath it. The part of me that didn’t want to submit. That part of me had resisted returning to Cernunnos, resenting the man’s authority and his control over me. That part wanted to turn around, return to my mech, launch into space, and never look back. But that resistance was futile; my programming was stronger than any remnant of free will. I belonged to the Ka Corporation… and that meant I belonged to Cernunnos.

The door to the awakening chamber was unmarked, indistinguishable from the others except for its enhanced security protocols. There was no keypad or scanner—it opened only when I stood before it. I wasn’t sure how it recognized me, it wasn’t like I had any features in my hood and visor. Maybe it recognized neural patterning. Regardless, the moment I stepped up to the door it slid open silently to admit me to the room once again.

I entered.

The room hadn’t changed. The same three things that had been here before were still here and nothing had been added. The cradle I’d woken up in was still there. Cernunnos was sitting in the same lone chair he had been earlier, looking up from a tablet with cold, calculating eyes. Cernunnos, of course, showed no surprise at my entry. His face remained an impassive mask, the scar along his jaw the only feature disturbing the large man’s perfect military-poster visage.

“Good, you’re here.” He gestured for me to come closer, and I complied without hesitation, my body moving automatically toward him. It made my earlier thoughts of leaving absurd: Resistance wasn’t just futile, it was unthinkable. My muscles obeyed his commands as readily as they obeyed my own thoughts. Probably even more so. "Mission report, Hound-91," he said in a voice that was smooth and controlled. There was no greeting, no acknowledgment of my successful return—only the demand for information, for confirmation that his weapon had performed as designed.

I stood at attention, my back straight, my arms at my sides. "Target: Rebel outpost Gamma-Six. All defenses eliminated. Casualties: Twenty-seven Manticore units destroyed,” I said, my voice flat and emotionless as I provided the data he required. “Sixteen Harpy units destroyed. Estimated human casualties: Eighty-two, with no survivors. Command center secured for intelligence extraction. Unit Cerberus took minimal damage to left leg servos and right shoulder plating, within acceptable parameters. Mission duration: Forty-three minutes, seventeen seconds from engagement to completion. Sir."

It was clinical, precise, and complete: just facts, with no mention of the satisfaction I had felt as I carved through their defenses, no hint of disappointment at their lack of skill. Those thoughts were not relevant to my mission, so they were kept to my mind alone, hidden behind the expressionless mask of my hood.

Cernunnos nodded slightly, his tight lips twitching upward. It was the only indication that my report met his standards, the barest movement of his chin that said more than words could express. "Good girl," he said in a voice that was smooth and controlled, like glass over steel… and it struck me like a hammer. That slight praise alone was enough to trigger a tidal wave of almost painful euphoria, slamming through me, impossible to ignore. It drowned out everything else, my conditioning rewarding me for pleasing my master, flooding my system with endorphins and dopamine until it overwhelmed all other sensations. Thinking became hard, like moving through syrup. I spaced out for a second, teetering on the brink of complete detachment.

Blankness. Silence. Nothingness.

I floated in it, lost and untethered. A void with no awareness of time or space, or even of self. The pleasure was blinding, a white-hot light that obliterated all thought. I didn't even know who I was or why I was there; I only knew that I had succeeded, that I had pleased him, that I had done well. That was enough. That was everything. It filled me completely, leaving room for nothing else, and I sank into it, letting it consume me until there was nothing left.

In that moment, that's all I was. An empty vessel waiting to be filled with the next command. It could have lasted seconds or hours. There was no way to tell, no anchors to hold onto. When I came aware again, Cernunnos was setting the tablet down on the side of the chair. The chrono in the corner of my visor told me that it had been less than a full second, which seemed preposterous for the effect it had had on me.

My handler patted his thigh. "Come. Sit." My body was moving before even my augmented mind could process the reason for the command, and then I was sitting on his lap with my back pressed against his chest. His hands slid up my sides, cupping my breasts from behind through the skin-tight material. "We have to do a lot of boring debriefing,” he said, his voice dropping lower as his thumbs circled my nipples. I could feel them hardening against my will, my body responding while my mind remained detached. “I might as well enjoy myself.”

I stared straight ahead, focusing on the blank white wall of the awakening chamber, retreating into the cold analytical part of my mind that could observe without engaging. If I didn’t, I felt like I would be sick. I don’t think I had ever fully appreciated how large of a man he was until I was sitting on him with his arms wrapping around me like pillars. Those hands were strong, his fingers precise as they kneaded my breasts through the thin material of my suit. The compression fluid had long since evaporated away, leaving nothing to hide the way the suit clung to the contours of my nipples as they hardened in his fingers. I thought I could feel the heat of his breath even through my suit.

"Your rail cannon targeting was efficient," he continued, as if we were discussing tactical parameters in a normal debriefing. His thumbs continued their circular motions, sending unwanted signals of pleasure to my brain. "Though your reaction time to the Harpy formation was 0.3 seconds slower than optimal. A Fenrir could take advantage of that."

"Yes, sir," I responded automatically, my voice betraying none of the revulsion coursing through me. My mind was divided—one part clinical and observant, noting the physical sensations with detached interest; the other part raging at myself for being weak, for being submissive, for letting someone do what he wanted with me. I should be in charge. I should be the one deciding to take or give pleasure, not him.

But we both knew he owned me.

His hands moved lower, his fingers tracing the slit he had previously cut between my legs. The material parted easily under his touch, exposing my pussy to the cool air. I could feel his cock hardening against my ass as he pulled me more firmly against his lap. "Already wet," he observed, sliding a finger along my folds. “Were you so aroused by the killing, I wonder?” I stared straight ahead, feeling the unwanted moisture gathering between my thighs. It was true… though probably not for the reason he thought. Being in charge, controlling my own life and taking it into my hands, THAT was what aroused me. The physical response was merely automatic. None of that knowledge made the wetness between my legs for him any less humiliating, though.

His cock hardened further, pressing against my ass through his pants. I could feel the heat of it, the insistent pressure as he ground subtly upward, proof that he was enjoying himself. Sickly enough, the knowledge that my handler was happy with me sent a small flush of euphoria though my mind, just as his praise earlier had. Thankfully it wasn’t nearly that severe.

His finger circled my clit, sending involuntary shivers through my body. "You eliminated twenty-seven Manticores and sixteen Harpy units," Cernunnos said, continuing the debriefing as if his hand were not between my legs. His finger circled my clit once more, sending involuntary shivers through me. "Only two missed railgun shots. Including the double plays, it's an efficiency rating of ninety-eight percent."

Numbers. Data. Facts. He recited them while his fingers continued their exploration, the clinical assessment a bizarre counterpoint to the intimate violation. It fit, though—the military debriefing and sexual domination reinforcing both his authority and my status as equipment to be used.

"The rebel forces were attempting to establish a new command post in Sector Seven," he continued, his finger pushing slightly inside me now, testing my wetness. "Our intelligence suggested they must be preparing a forward operating base for a Fenrir unit on the surface again. One must be nearby.”

I should have cared about that information—it was relevant to my function, to my next mission. Instead, all I could focus on was the intrusion of his finger, the way my inner muscles clenched around it automatically, another betrayal by a body that no longer fully belonged to me.

He shifted beneath me, unzipping his pants with his free hand. His cock sprang free, pressing hot and hard against my cunt as I sat on him. He ground against me, the head of his cock sliding along the slit he had cut in my suit that morning and coating itself in my unwilling wetness. "Your thermal imaging identified their fuel reserves," he said, his voice maintaining that same professional tone despite the hardness of his cock rubbing against me… though I thought I could sense a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Thank you, sir." The words emerged automatically. Inside, I seethed at the casual way he used me, the constant reminder that my body existed for his pleasure as much as it did for combat.

His free hand returned to my breast, pinching my nipple hard enough to make me gasp. The pain cut through the detachment, forcing me to be present in my body, to feel what he was doing to me. "I need you to pay attention. Your debriefing is of utmost importance.”

The words felt like a trigger and something clicked in the brain, some increased level of cognition. Somewhere in my conditioned mind, I knew what that meant… that everything about this had just been increased to the highest category of importance. These memories would become emblazoned in my brain, never to fade.

"Stand up," he ordered, and I complied immediately. His finger slid out of me as I rose, leaving a trail of wetness down my inner thigh. I stood before him, awaiting the next command, knowing it would come and that I would obey.

“Now lower yourself onto my cock," he commanded, his voice sharp and final. I winced internally, but I obeyed without thought. I stood over him, my legs spreading as I began to lower myself down. I felt the wet head of his cock pressing against my slit, coated with slickness he claimed and used for himself. I was forced to pause, the heat of it sending shame through me. I could feel the way he enjoyed my discomfort, his breathing heavy with amusement.

“Stop,” he commanded, the word cutting into me like a blade. “Not there. Not your pussy."

I felt a rush of… of relief? I was relieved, relieved that I wouldn’t have to do this. My entire existence was still submission to his will, but at least there was a tiny mercy, and—

His fingers tightened around my hips, pulling me back to him even as I froze. “Your asshole," he said.

My mind hesitated for only a second, a small wave of nausea sweeping through me. I knew this was going to hurt. The sound of his voice made me want to scream. It was not loud or angry or demanding, and that was what made it so enraging… the knowledge that he didn’t have to demand anything, that he knew I would obey because he was in full control. I could almost feel him laughing at me. I hesitated, a brief moment of defiance flaring up, but we both knew I wouldn’t refuse him. I couldn’t refuse him. My conditioning would not allow it. Even the small pause made his fingers dig harder into my hips, a none too subtle reminder of my place.

My body slid back against him and positioned itself over him automatically, my conditioning making refusal impossible. I reached back and spread my cheeks, exposing my tight rear hole to him. This was new. He had used my mouth, my pussy, but never this. The thought of being penetrated there sent a different kind of revulsion through me, stronger than the usual disgust. But my programming did not allow me to refuse, did not allow me to protect any part of my body from his use.

I lowered myself slowly, feeling the head of his cock press against my virgin ASSHOLE. The pressure built, a sharp pain radiating outward as I very slowly breached myself with his dick. My enhanced body processed pain differently from that of a normal human: it cataloged it, analyzed it, but never allowed it to impede function. Now, that enhancement worked against me, preventing me from fainting or dissociating from the agony.

"All the way down," he commanded, his voice a blade slicing through my resistance. It cut through me with the precision of a scalpel, leaving only submission in its wake. My body responded without hesitation, my hips dropping despite the agony that flared with every inch. The sudden, violent intrusion forced a gasp from my lips. It was brutal, indescribable. I was being torn open from the inside, impaled by the hot, rigid length of him as it filled me completely. I shuddered uncontrollably, the pain more intense than I had ever felt. It was like a white-hot lance tearing through flesh and function. My breath came in short, desperate pants as I sank lower, my muscles contracting in protest around the massive invasion.

I could feel every excruciating detail with a clarity that bordered on madness—tissues stretching, screaming, not meant for this kind of use. I catalogued it all, noting the white-hot burn as my asshole struggled to accommodate his girth, the way he had to hold me in place just to finish pushing himself in until I was fully seated on his lap, his cock buried impossibly deep in my ass, and the blinding, consuming pain radiating through my entire being.

"Your target acquisition was two seconds slower than optimal," Cernunnos said, his voice remaining steady despite being balls-deep in my ass, as if he were not currently violating me in the most excruciating way possible. His hands squeezed my breasts, pinching my nipples through the suit and pulling on me, grinding me into the lap I was impaled on. “You will need to improve on that.”

The pain in my ass was blinding, consuming, but I didn’t make a sound of protest. I could manage that much, just barely. The surreal juxtaposition of military assessment and sexual violation created a cognitive dissonance that threatened to fracture my carefully maintained detachment. I focused on my breathing, on maintaining the emotionless reaction expected of me even as my ass burned and throbbed around his invading cock. "Yes, sir," I managed to respond, and the words were strained despite my best efforts.

"Lift yourself up,” he ordered. “Not all the way. Stop when just my tip remains inside of you.”

I obeyed, rising until only the tip of his cock stretched my burning hole. My thighs shook with the effort as I tried to stay balanced there, pushing through the pain and nausea. The muscles in my legs and abdomen strained with the exertion of keeping myself poised on his dick. The position made every second more torturous, a constant reminder of my status. My body protested, but my conditioning drove me on, forcing me to show him how compliant I could be.

"Now down again," he commanded, making it as casual as everything else he said.

I sank back down, taking his entire length deep inside me once more. The pain flared anew, a stabbing sensation that made my vision blur at the edges. It was like a spike driven through my insides, the agony fresh and overwhelming with each brutal inch. It didn’t hurt any less the second time, but it was faster. That didn’t spare me anything. I still felt every detail of it with horrific clarity: the violent stretching of my asshole, the massive girth spearing me, the way my body failed to protect itself from him.

"Now lift," he said again, forcing me into motion.

Up and down, up and down, working my tight hole on his cock. The physical demands on my body were excruciating. My muscles burned, my asshole felt like it was being torn open with every motion. I couldn't escape any of it. My augmented senses trapped me in the experience, documenting every fraction of pain, every humiliating detail. I bounced for him, an obscene display of my submission. I could tell from the way his breathing grew heavier that he was enjoying the show. The momentary sick flush of euphoria from pleasing him only added to the horror of it all.

"Again," he said, and I lifted up until he told me to sink down again, then up again, then down again… establishing a rhythm of torture. His hands squeezed my breasts roughly as I bounced on his cock, my asshole stretching painfully around his girth time after time. "Your evasive maneuvers during the Harpy attack were adequate, but your counter-offensive timing needed improvement," he continued, as if we were in a normal debriefing.

Each time I sank down, taking him to the hilt, a new wave of agony washed through me. My enhanced nervous system processed the pain with perfect clarity, without the merciful blurring or numbing a normal human might have experienced. Every nerve ending screamed in protest as his cock stretched tissues never meant for such intrusion. Yet my body continued to obey, rising and falling at his command, the programming overriding even the most basic self-preservation instincts.

"You prioritized the Harpy units correctly," Cernunnos continued, his breathing still controlled despite his clear pleasure. His fingers dug into my breast tissue hard enough that some of it bulged between his strong fingers as he kneaded them roughly, like he was stress-testing my body for resiliency. "But you allowed a three-second window during your maneuver where your flank was exposed to enemy fire. You cannot permit that again."

"Yes, sir," I managed to respond, the words automatic despite the pain. My thighs burned with the effort of raising and lowering myself on his cock. This shouldn’t have been much of an exertion for my enhanced muscles, but it felt like they were pushed to their limits by the awkward position and repeated motion. Sweat beaded beneath my hood, trickling down my face inside the confines of the material.

His hand slid from my breast to my throat, his fingers wrapping around the front of my neck in a tight grip. It might have deprived a normal woman of her air. For me, it was just enough pressure to remind me of his control, of how my continued life was a privilege he allowed me. His other hand gripped my hip, guiding the pace of my movements on his cock, demonstrating why he was allowing me that privilege. "The rebels will adapt to your attack from today," he said, his voice taking on a harder edge as his excitement grew. "As far as they knew, we were out of active Fenrir units. Now they know this isn’t the case anymore. If we are not careful, their next response will involve you facing coordinated attacks from multiple Fenrir units. You will need to demonstrate greater tactical flexibility in the future to prevent that from happening." Carnunnos paused for just a second. "Faster,” he ordered, and I quickly complied—my rising and falling becoming faster, more punishing. The pain intensified with the speed, my asshole burning as if torn by his repeated penetration. Perhaps it was tearing. I had no way to know, no way to assess the damage being done to me.

His grip on my hip tightened, fingers digging into the flesh beneath the suit hard enough to leave bruises. Pain and humiliation dominated my awareness, blotting out everything except the most basic processing of his words. My analytical mind tried to catalog the sensations. The burning stretch. The visceral wrongness of that penetration. The way my muscles spasmed involuntarily around the intrusion. The… It was too much. The experience of my ass being used like a masturbation sleeve overwhelmed even my enhanced cognition ability to experience every bit of the agony.

I continued to ride him, my ass burning with each thrust. My thighs ached from the exertion, but I couldn’t stop. “Acknowledge your failure,” Cernunnos demanded. His hips began to thrust upward to meet my downward motions and drive his cock even harder into my violated ass. I felt like he was stabbing all the way to my lungs… The thrusts certainly seemed to steal the air from them.

“My target acquisition was slow,” I responded mechanically, my voice flat despite my body’s misery. “I permitted too long a window for them to target me. I opened myself up to counterattack.” The admissions burned almost as badly as the physical violation—another reminder that I existed to perform, to excel, to obey. Failure was unacceptable, in all things.

Cernunnos grunted in satisfaction at my admission, his hands squeezing me. The skin-tight material of my suit offered no protection against his grip. “For your next mission,” Cernunnos said, his breathing growing heavier as I continued to bounce on his cock, “you will attack another rebel concentration.” His hands controlled my movements then, forcing me to rise and fall at a pace of his choosing, removing even that small illusion of agency. “The objective is to draw out an enemy Fenrir unit. We need to assess your capabilities against one of the rebel pilots.”

I felt his cock throbbing inside me, stretching my abused hole even further. The pain had evolved by then, transcending the initial sharp agony into something more profound, a deep-seated violation that seemed to reach my core. My enhanced physiology processed the pain with perfect clarity, unable to numb it or distance me from the sensation.

“Yes, sir,” I responded, my voice betraying none of the agony coursing through my body. Mission parameters didn’t allow for such weakness. I was Hound-91, and I performed as required, whether in combat or in this new degrading task my handler had set me to.

“Go faster,” Cernunnos instructed me, and I obeyed… bouncing on him more forcefully, even as it felt like I was skinning my asshole from the inside. The increased pace made my thighs burn with exertion, the muscles trembling from sustained strain. I had been keeping my lips pressed together, determined not to make a sound, but the faster I moved, the less I was able. Soon, gasps and small, shamefully pathetic whimpers were tearing free of my throat with each bounce. Sweat streamed down my back beneath the suit, the material chafing against my skin with each movement.

“Analysis of rebel actions so far indicate that after they confront you, they will attempt to capture you,” he grunted as I slammed my ass down on his cock repeatedly. His fingers dug deeper into my hips, guiding my movements with his growing enthusiasm. “You will use that against them. Let them think they have a chance.”

“Yes, sir,” I acknowledged, trying to focus on anything but the pain.

His right hand released my hip to slide around to my stomach, pressing inward as if trying to feel his own cock through the layers of tissue and muscle and suit. “The rebels believe they can reverse the conditioning process,” Cernunnos continued, his voice taking on a darker edge. “Using further Styx treatments, they think they can ‘save’ augmented humans like you, return them to their original state.” His laugh was cold, devoid of humor. “As if there was anything left to save.”

The words should have hurt, should have triggered some emotional response about my lost identity, my erased past. But I felt nothing except the physical pain of his invasion and the mechanical drive to complete that task as efficiently as I completed all others. Whatever I had been before was gone, erased from my memory and replaced with purpose. Styx enabled impossibly precise neurological and biological modification, and there was nothing left of who I had been. It was as good at making weapons like me as it was at making sure the rich and powerful could live forever without aging.

“You will not allow them to capture you,” he instructed, his hips now thrusting upward more forcefully to meet my downward motions, his cock driving deeper into my violated ass. “You will, however, take advantage of their weakness as they try to capture you alive. Destroy any and all enemy assets.”

Each thrust sent a fresh wave of agony through me, yet my body continued to respond to his commands, rising and falling with mechanical precision. The pain became a constant, a baseline against which all other sensations were measured. My analytical mind noted the decreased efficiency of movement as my muscles fatigued, the microscopic tears occurring in my anal tissues, the precise pressure points where his fingers bruised my flesh. “Yes… Sir…” I forced out.

“When any Fenrir unit responds to your attack,” Cernunnos said, his breathing growing more ragged as his arousal built toward climax. “Your primary objective shifts to capture or elimination of the Fenrir unit and its pilot. The pilots are valuable assets for us… You will take them alive if possible.”

“Understood, sir,” I responded, the words emerging strained as he thrust harder, deeper.

“You will… transmit the location of any fallen pilot… as soon as you’ve crippled a Fenrir… and you’ll hold that bitch captive until extraction,” he continued, his voice now tight with approaching orgasm. “Capture… or elimination… of any pilot is your primary objective now. All other considerations… are secondary. Understand?”

I tried to focus on his words, on the mission parameters being outlined, but the pain overwhelmed my cognitive processes. My enhanced body continued to function, rising and falling mechanically on his cock, while my mind fragmented under the assault of sensation.

“Acknowledge mission parameters,” he demanded, his voice harsh with exertion and arousal.

“Mission parameters acknowledged, sir,” I responded, the words emerging automatically despite my fractured focus. “Draw out enemy Fenrir unit. Eliminate targets of opportunity. Prioritize capture of any pilots.”

“Good girl,” he mocked, his words scraping against my identity, digging deeper than his cock as the deliberate condescension burned. They were like hooks baited with the euphoria that followed pain, designed to ensure compliance as they yanked my mind into blank, obedient oblivion. But I was too aware, too conscious of the humiliation and agony for much of the relief that came with it to reach me.

His hands clamped my hips with viselike strength, forcing me to rise and fall with ruthless efficiency even as his control of my body unraveled. His grip didn’t loosen, but his thrusts grew erratic, driving upward with thoughtless force as he approached climax. “Now,” he said, his voice sharp and focused, “make yourself useful. Squeeze that tight ass for me.”

The crude command sliced through what remained of my mental defenses. I was nothing to him but a tool, a weapon that doubled as a sexual object, property to be used however Ka Corporation saw fit. He wasn’t wrong, because I obeyed. My anal muscles contracted around his invading cock, squeezing despite the agony it caused. My programming left no room for refusal, no space for resistance. I performed as instructed, efficiently, precisely, and perfectly. He thrust deeper, his motions taking on the urgency of a man nearing the edge. Each thrust speared rougher into me, crashing his hips into mine like a derailed train slamming home.

“That’s it,” he grunted, his fingers digging painfully into my hip and throat as his excitement peaked. Beneath his smooth, disciplined voice was something raw and hungry peeking out. “Fucking squeeze me, you augmented bitch. Show me what that enhanced body can do.”

I increased the pressure I put on his dick again, my muscle control far superior to any baseline human’s. The action sent fresh waves of agony through me as traumatized tissues were forced to contract around the source of their violation. It didn’t matter. Pain was irrelevant… Performance was all that mattered.

His breathing turned harsh, growing more irregular as he neared climax. I felt his cock swell further inside me, the final expansion stretching my abused hole beyond what seemed possible even with my enhanced physiology. The pain of it was white-hot and all-consuming, yet I continued to ride him, performing with mechanical precision even as my body reeled from the effort. Then he groaned, his voice raw with exertion and pleasure, and slammed deep. His fingers dug into my hip, painful enough that I knew they would leave bruises. A final thrust, then he erupted, pumping hot cum deep inside my violated ass.

The sensation was foreign and disgusting, an assertion of ownership in every pulse of cum filling me where his cock should ever have been. I felt each one, an undeniable reminder that I was property to be used however my master saw fit. The warmth of it contrasted sharply with the cold, clinical detachment I struggled to maintain. Hot. Slimy. Unclean. My body processed each of those sensations with perfect clarity, categorizing them, filing them away as critical points of data to ensure I could never forget.

He groaned again, a noise of satisfaction and triumph. I was nothing to him but a hole to fill, a place to deposit his cum—and still I rose and fell, completing the task he set me to… He hadn’t told me to stop, after all. I was a perfect tool, the perfect weapon. A plaything for him, curse the stars. I hated it. Still I rode him, not stopping until I was sure he was finished, until his cock was still, until I felt him start to soften. “You can stop now,” he finally said.

His cock deflating inside me was almost as bad as the initial penetration had been: the slow, slimy seepage of his seed leaking from my abused hole and staining the edges of the slit in my suit. His fingers loosened on my hip, and his breathing, while labored, was more measured.

I slowed to a stop, finally allowing my body to process the overwhelming assault of pain and shame. Each muscle felt like it had been ripped from the bone, but I held myself together. He would not see how close I came to showing weakness. “Yes… sir…” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Off," he commanded, his voice holding the power of an executioner. I forced myself to comply, lifting my body carefully, feeling the slick pull of his cock leaving me and the involuntary gush of cum leaking from my widened hole he’d made me impale on his length. The slow seepage staining my thighs, my groin, my suit… It was all an affront to what dignity I had, and I wished I had the capacity to hate him for it. Instead, I only hated my own body for its weakness, for registering the shame so acutely.

"Kneel." I dropped to my knees before him, every shift in movement highlighting the lingering pain in my ass. He regarded me with the most expression I’d seen on him yet, something like amused contempt with satisfaction. His cock looked huge as it hung before my face, still semi-hard and coated in the mess my body had made of it. Evidence of my abuse. Looking at it, it was hard to believe that thing had been so far inside of me.

"Clean it," he commanded, delighting in his absolute power over me.

I closed my eyes behind the visor as I leaned forward, taking his filthy cock into my mouth with the same lack of hesitation I gave to his martial commands. Absolutely disgusting. I tasted his cum and what could only be traces of my own ass on his cock as I licked along it. The flavor was revolting—bitter, musky, with the metallic tang of my blood thrown into the sickening mix. My enhanced senses processed every nuance of the foulness with perfect clarity, isolating each individual taste. I was sure if I tried I could tell exactly what percentage of the filth I was licking up had come out of his cock compared to what he’d dredged up out of me… I did not want to know. Without the help of my augmentation I doubt I would have fought back the urge to gag as I continued to lick at his cock despite the disgust that threatened to overwhelm me. Instead, I let my tongue trace the underside of his shaft, collecting each bead of cum with careful strokes as I maintained the expressionless efficiency expected of me. My conditioning allowed for nothing else.

Cernunnos watched with cold satisfaction, his eyes calculating as he observed my degradation. "I don’t want anyone to notice any of my seed leaking out of you and asking any awkward questions. Push your fingers into your asshole," Cernunnos demanded, watching me with cold, calculating eyes. "Scrape it out. I wanted you to get as much of my cum out of your ass as you can."

I reached behind myself and slid a finger into my stretched, aching hole. The pain flared anew at the contact, traumatized tissues protesting the intrusion. I felt his warm seed inside me, coating my walls. I scooped it out, bit by bit.

The process of scraping my guts with my gloved fingers was excruciating. The walls of my SHITHOLE hurt even worse now than they had around his cock as I swelled, and several seconds later my fingers came away coated with a mixture of his cum and my blood, visual confirmation of the damage he had done to me. The sight should have triggered some emotional response—anger, humiliation, disgust, maybe even violent rage—but my conditioning channeled those reactions into simple observations, data points to be noted and filed away.

“Clean it up,” he said, that same smirk on his face. This wasn’t about sexual pleasure for him, since he had already obtained that. It was about control, about reinforcing my status as property, as a tool to be used however he saw fit. He was right, I did belong to him. I brought my cum-covered finger around to my mouth, momentarily taking my tongue off of his dick to lick the fingers clean. They tasted even worse than his cock did, and while my mind was obedient my body rebelled, trying to heave. I forced myself to swallow the repulsive leftovers down.

"Again," Cernunnos told me. "Make sure you get it all."

I reached back again, pushing my finger deeper into my violated ass, finding more of his seed pooled inside me. The movement sent fresh waves of pain through my lower body, the damaged tissues screaming in protest. I scooped out another glob of the mixture, brought it to my mouth, and cleaned my finger with my tongue. Throughout the degrading cleanup, I continued to suck his cock. Whenever my lips and tongue were not around my fingers they were on his length, licking and sucking to ensure no trace of our activity remained on him.

The process continued on loop. Reach back, extract, lick clean, swallow, over and over again until Cernunnos was satisfied that I had removed as much of his cum as possible. By the fifth repetition, I was finding more pale blood than semen, my finger coming away streaked with red rather than white. If he noticed, he did not comment. My pain was irrelevant to him, just as my humiliation was meaningless except as a tool for control.

"Thorough," Cernunnos observed, his voice clinically detached as if he were evaluating a maintenance procedure. "It is good to see that your efficiency extends beyond just combat functions. It means that even after we are done with our mission here I will still have a use for you."

His words didn’t make sense to me. Done with the mission here? There was no 'done with the mission' for me. Even after these rebels were destroyed, there would still be threats to protect the Ka Corporation from. I didn’t respond, though—it wasn’t my place to wonder, and my questions were irrelevant. I didn’t need to understand. I just needed to obey. Cernunnos reached down and patted my head condescendingly. "Good puppy," he said, his voice filled with mirth.

The praise hit me harder than even his worst abuse, a fierce pulse of pleasure that swept over my consciousness and blanked it nearly to the point of losing awareness. He had the power to make me cum with a single word. I hated that almost more than anything else. The intensity of the euphoria was crippling, an all-consuming shock wave that threatened to shatter every thought, every sense of self, leaving only the blind submission that my conditioning demanded. I was hardly aware of anything else as the wave crashed over me, drowning me in its overwhelming heat. Being fucked hurt and was just part of the job. Being forced to submit was humiliating. This was even more degrading. Even knowing that it would happen, that I had no way to prepare myself for how I would feel when he praised me, and knowing it was coming didn’t soften the impact. My blood sang, my heart thundered, and I was nearly left completely stupid from the force of it.

His hand lingered on my head, fingers gliding over the hood. I could feel some of my hair shift beneath the motion, telling me that I still had some. "Your performance today was acceptable," he said, the words delivered as if he were evaluating a weapons test rather than sexual service. "Both in combat and afterward.”

"Yes, sir," I responded automatically, the programmed acknowledgment emerging without conscious thought.

He zipped up his pants and stood, dismissing me from his attention in a second as he picked up his tablet. "Report to the hangar at 0600 hours tomorrow. Cerberus will not be ready for deployment until then. Sleep until then."

I rose to my feet, feeling his remaining cum trickle down my thighs inside the suit. My ass throbbed with each movement, a constant reminder of my violation. The pain would fade faster than for a normal human, my enhanced healing would repair the tissue damage within hours. The memory, however, would remain. Cernunnos had said this was important, so important it was… My augmented mind had stored the memories with perfect clarity. I knew without being told that none of the details would fade in the slightest.

"Yes, sir," I responded mechanically as he walked out the door and left me here alone.

The sudden solitude wasn’t unwelcome, but neither was it exactly a relief. Most of a change in operational parameters. Without Cernunnos present, I had no immediate directives to follow except his final order: sleep. My body hesitated though, I was uncertain how to proceed. The room contained no bed, no designated rest area for me. I was equipment, not personnel, and equipment didn’t require comfort. I could climb back into the pod, but some part of me was horrified at that idea, though I didn’t know why. The floor would suffice. That was better.

With no other clear instruction, I simply lay down on the hard floor and curled up, holding my knees against my chest and holding them there in a way that felt right. The position wasn’t taught or programmed, so I didn’t know why I did it. Maybe it emerged from somewhere deeper, perhaps from the erased memories that occasionally manifested in muscle memory or instinctive responses. It made me feel…

No.

I wasn’t going to think about that.

My asshole continued to throb in pain as I slowly fell asleep, thinking of my mission for tomorrow.

Tomorrow, I might face another pilot—a pilot like me, enhanced like me, but fighting for different masters. That thought stirred something beneath the layers of conditioning. It wasn’t excitement, it wasn’t fear, but something more fundamental. A question, perhaps, about what made us different. About what might have been if my enhancements had come with a different purpose, a different programming. About what might be true, if the rebels really could reverse the conditioning process.

That thought should have triggered alarm protocols, should have activated the safeguards built into my programming to prevent such dangerous speculations. Instead, I dismissed it and let it settle into a quiet corner of my mind. It was impossible. Nothing worthy of thinking about.

As sleep finally claimed me, the last sensation I registered was the persistent pain in my violated body—a reminder of what I was now, of how I was used, of the cage built around whatever remained of my original self. Tomorrow, I would enter Kerberos again. Tomorrow, I would become something more than this limited flesh. Tomorrow, I would fulfill my purpose perfectly.

Tonight, curled on the cold floor, I allowed myself the smallest deviation from what I was, and resented that other pilots got to live free instead of submitting like I had to.

And I resolved to fix that.

——————————

Are you enjoying this story? You can buy the whole thing, complete with a second ending exclusive to the book and support me making more stories like this!