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His mouth was dry. He tried to curse them and
was dully surprised to find his mouth was glued shut. He tried again and
dried saliva parted; Benny muttered a curse as delicate tissues cracked.
A straw was placed in Benny's mouth and Benny
drew on it. Cool water filled his mouth.
It was withdrawn and he had to force himself not
to beg for more. Something like a deer fly bit his arm and he drifted off
to an uneasy sleep. He smiled at the pretty dream face that hung sweating
above his. Not Sue, his dream girl . . . not this time . . .
Benny groaned and forced open his eye. The
nagging rasp of a hangover, like the ache in his head, made him want to
vomit. Morning? No windows. “God, but my head.” When he caught that
old bitch, she was gonna find a new and unique use for that can of dope
spray. For freekin certain.
A faint gasp of breath snapped Benny out of the
haze.
His hand grabbed for his knife and to his
embarrassment he was naked. And had grabbed something else.
She was pretty, maybe a few years older. Her
hair was so straight, and so black it was almost blue where the lighting
hit it. She had perfect cheek bones, high and sharp under trembling almond
eyes.
Benny scowled at the woman and she glanced down,
demure and not a little frightened.
In a low growl he ask, “You one of Cindy's
bitches?”
Eyes wide and trembling, she glanced up, then
whispered, “Perdone, no comprende.”
“Ah, shit.”
Benny glared at her. She was buff naked and so
far as he could see, there were no tan lines on her slightly plump,
hourglass figure. Despite, or maybe because of, the dull ache of her need
for him and the fuzzy curtain left by the drugs, he felt himself stirring
with hunger for her. Benny groped for a sheet and snatched it up over the
swelling evidence of his desire.
She covered her mouth to block a giggle at his
embarrassment. Her eyes roamed his body while Benny glared at the ceiling.
“Como se llama?” he snapped.
“Elena, señor. Con tu permisso.”
“Cindy?” Benny shouted. “What the frig
goes, you bitch? I told you, you could cut off my balls first. I ain’t
gonna stud for your brood mares no more, you friggin whore master.”
Benny grinned at the ceiling.
The Corpsman shook his head at the monitors and
leaned forward.
“Kid, you don't have much choice in this.”
“You like peep shows, is that it? Then peep at
this.” He leaped from the bed and flipped up the back of the sheet.
“Screw off, Grey.” The agent glanced away
from the moon.
Benny stood up and spat at the camera. The agent
clenched a fist, counted to twenty and shook his head with an admiring
grin. The kid was a real bastard. All tough and cold, just like Ivanovitch.
But Ivanovitch was a good soldier and did what he was told to do. Most of
the time, anyway. And always in his own way. That sunuvabitch gave more
officers gray hairs than the war did. “You have to, Benny. Like now, got
it? Lady says so.” At Benny's answer, he sighed and decided on another
track.
“Benny, Carl would agree. It's for the good of
the nation. It'll save us billions on.”
“Make billions, ain't it?” Benny gave him a
mocking grin. “How many effing egg heads'll get rich on research grants?
Tell Cindy to use her magic finger if she wants this babe knocked up, not
my magic finger.” So there would be no misunderstanding, he grabbed his
crotch and shook it.
“Kid, just between you and me.” The glare of
the record disk caught his eye, he glanced at it and shook his head.
“Never mind. Boss lady said to tell you.” The man flushed and ground
his teeth, hating this whole set-up. The kid was way too much like
Ivanovitch for his liking. Maybe Benny was right about it all.
“Tell him what, Miller?”
Cindy paused at the door, a faint scowl drew a
line between her eyes. She took the chair next to the agent's and smiled
at her pet. He was magnificent, no matter what the accident had cost to
his looks, to his sweet innocence.
“Benny?”
“Cindy? Up your.”
“Not mine, young man.” She was all business
now. “You know the routine. Make a baby, or I'll have a collar on you so
fast, no matter what the psychoanalyst said.”
All color flushed out of his face, leaving the
light copper brown of his skin a dull ash.
“No,” he whispered. “I'll die first.”
Benny drooped the sheet and leaped at a chair.
He smashed it into the wall where the first camera was. A monitor fizzed
and blanked. In a blind rage, the rest of the furniture was smashed. Every
one of the 'eyes' in the room he had spotted were destroyed. Panting with
the effort and the weakness brought on by the drugs, he stopped. Cindy
tapped the control, a brief caress on her part, no more than tapping a
naughty puppy on the nose.
Benny choked and collapsed. The strange woman
gasped. She darted from where she had huddled on the floor to his side,
screaming for help in Otomi.
“Na-da . . . es nada,” Benny gasped.
He blinked, reached up to touch the smooth, warm skin of her neck. No
collar? Was the bitch lady using a new technique?
A smile warmed the brown sun kissed face. She
took her hand and pressed the back of it to her cheek. With waves of a
blush heating her skin, she whispered, “Por favor. Por favor, mi
guerrerro-senor.”
In the torrent that followed, Benny understood
she was being paid to do this, and quite a lot of money. Her family, the
people where she lived, were in desperate need.
Face a carefully schooled neutral, Cindy tried
to remain clinical. She adjusted the controls and eased them, just a
nudge.
Just enough to make Benny swallow and rave at
her and do what he had to do, to please Cindy. Cool and calculating, she
smiled. He was fighting it. Fighting for freedom. Still, there was more
than one way to skin a rat like Benny. “She wants this, Benny. Why won't
you help her? She needs you, Benny. Needs you so badly she may die.”
“Fuck you,” Benny shouted and gasped for
breath. “I hate you, you bitch.” He tried to push Elena away.
“Stop fighting me, Benny, or the girl will
suffer.”
Make the woman hurt. He was too wrapped up in
his own suffering, but should the girl be harmed…. She smiled and the
agent next to her to closed his eyes against the sight.
In a daze he pushed her down and pressed her to
the floor.
Benny moved over the girl and without warning
took her.
She gave a low whisper of pain and her short
fingernails gouged into his shoulders.
“I.” Benny stilled his movements. He glanced
away, ashamed. “I'm sorry, I thought.”
Sweat rolling off his face with the effort to
remain still; he pressed his face between her breasts until she adjusted
to him.
Her hands pressed against the sides of his face
and he looked down at the tear-moistened lashes.
“Mi Bennito. My warlord.”
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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