Counting Coup 5

All manner of confusing, conflicting emotions filled Naru’s mind, demanding to be sorted through. But she didn’t have the energy to even fully feel them. She felt herself drifting away, slipping back underneath her sensations. Not pleasure this time, but an emotional uprising, her mind in rebellion against what it remembered her doing.

When she woke up, she kept feeling the Piamupits, kept seeing him. But she was alone. Her surroundings were unrecognizable—as foreign as the Piamupits himself. This must be his lair… this strange land seemingly built of hard stone, that curved and angled as she’d never known it to do, even in the most elegantly worked tomahawk.

Oozing seed dampened her sex. She wondered if she’d ever stop feeling this way… if she’d ever have a normal reaction to her violation. As she tried to figure out what was underneath layer after layer of shame and satisfaction and more of each, another concern breached her thoughts.

Could she withstand another onslaught? And what about her mother? What torture must she be going through, with a son dead and her daughter missing? How could Naru return to tell her that her worst fears were realized? She had been despoiled, as Mother surely would worry. But it was unthinkable how she’d responded to it…

Naru drew both hands to her mouth to stifle the noise as sobs racked her body.

Her vision cleared enough to show her a reflection. It was hard to make her mind work. She was half-inclined to see the Naru in the mirror as another woman entirely. But slowly she realized it was her, as much as it would be in the surface of a lake. Her eyes looked as dark as embers that were about to go out. There was no life in them.

But she could see, and see that she was a mess. Her hair was caked with semen. More of it masked her face from nose to cheek.

Her eyes focused further. She felt like retching. Her legs were further apart than they’d ever been of her own accord. Between them, her sex gaped wide as a trout’s mouth. She tried to bring her thighs together and the pain blinded her. Naru wondered if this was how a mare felt after the stallion had his way with her.

It was a painful crawl out of the room, but she managed to leave it. She came across the Piamupits. His prick was like a long, thick snake eternally departing from his huge scrotum.

Naru heard him produce a sound with the restful cadence of snoring.

She kept going, now able to move on all fours. She blacked out several times, but finally, she found something like a shrine to the many weapons she’d seen the Piamupits wielding. She picked the simplest of them, a curving blade, and held it between her teeth.

Then she made her way back to where the Piamupits slept. Able to limp now. She didn’t black out anymore. Her determination spurred her on like stirrups would force a stallion onward.

The Piamupits was still snoring when she collapsed between his spread legs and wound a hand around his cock and balls.

Her other hand was calm and steady as she took the blade from between her teeth.

***

Over the past two hundred years, Naru had grown used to tending to the Predators—the Yautja, as she now knew them. Not Piamupits at all. Far more deadly. And far more beneficial, once you knew how to handle them.

As her tribe would take on women and children from a raid, the Yautja accepted those who proved themselves as warriors. They used them much as her own people would use a female slave, but there were compensations. Their seed, for one. It had healed her when she’d thought she’d be left permanently deformed. Strengthened her until sleeping with them wasn’t such a maiming. And prolonged her life, slowing the aging process to the point where no one who saw her would’ve believed she’d been born in the 18thcentury.

Not that she’d seen many humans to call her on her longevity. Not until now.

Alexa Woods had come to Naru bloodied and bruised from interfering in the Predators’ initiation ritual. She’d managed to hold her own alongside Scar, a young male who’d survived where his brothers had fallen, and Naru knew what that kind of impressive performance meant to the Predators. It was, no doubt, why Alexa had been delivered to her. The expectation that Naru would do something about the long cut on Alexa’s leg—left by a Xenomorph Queen, of all things.

Although it wasn’t deep, it was bad enough to need a dressing.

Naru washed Alexa’s skin with cold water, then realized more blood was coming from underneath the loincloth that was left of Alexa’s bottoms. She knelt on the floor in front of the black woman and dabbed at the slender trickle running out from underneath her modesty.

“Do you speak English?” Alexa asked, getting over her shock at seeing Naru and recognizing her for another human. Not knowing how the Yautja’s culture worked, she had to be even more surprised than Naru at finding herself confronted with her own species.

“Doesn’t everyone now?” Naru asked.

“I read the hieroglyphics; I get them—they’re hunters—but what the hell are you? Some… modern-day worshipper…”

“I help them, they help me. If you’re sitting here, you must understand that. Now save it until I have you mended. In case you haven’t noticed, those Xenomorphs can do a real number on people, even after you think they’re dealt with.”

Pragmatically, Alexa bit down whatever questions she had. Naru appreciated that. Healing her would take some doing, but not so much that she’d have time to fill her in on two centuries of accumulated knowledge.

“Can you get to it? Need me to lift my new skirt out of the way?” Alexa asked.

Naru had already noticed the effect that the black woman’s bare legs were having on her. Having that ‘skirt’ out of the way would make it worse—but she had to take care of Alexa’s injury. “Yes,” she answered.

It’s just to treat her wound, she told herself, as Alexa revealed to her several inches of smooth, chocolaty thigh.

Naru had to tell herself again that it was all a medical necessity.

“This gonna sting?” Alexa asked, interrupting Naru’s train of thought.

Naru restrained herself from asking if Alexa wanted it to. “No, it’s not alcohol, but it does the same job. It tingles, that’s all.”

She could see that the laceration only went as far as Alexa’s thigh, but there were other scratches that went higher. Alexa saw them too.

“Looks like this just has to go,” she said, unzipping her fly.

Naru wished she wasn’t so prepared to let another woman under her clothes—surely thinking, as Naru once had, that there could be nothing sexual between two women. But after decades of sex with nothing but Yautja, just being in the presence of a soft, warm human was a potent aphrodisiac.

She turned her head away as Alexa stood and wiggled what was left of her pants down off her slender legs, carefully avoiding aggravation to her injured legs. Naru had to turn back before not looking became awkward.

When she did, she needed to steel herself. Alexa wasn’t just any human—she was as gorgeous as Naru could ask for. Beautiful even in the undignified position of leaving her shredded pants on top of her shoes, as she had to with her body too injured to manage further undressing.

“Let me take care of that,” Naru said before it could become awkward for Alexa to ask.

Alexa sat back onto the exam table and let Naru remove her boots, her socks, and what remained of her pants. Her white cotton panties rolled like picturesque grass over the graceful contour of her pubic mound. Naru found herself imagining what soft, abundant pubic thatch must be giving her such a nice little hillock.

She’d taken off her jacket in deference to the warm climate in the Predator ship, leaving herself in a dark green shirt that fit tightly to her breasts—more than enough to even out her round hips. Alexa’s ass jutted prominently out, matching her thick thighs.

“I think you’d better lie down,” Naru said, trying not to betray her nervousness with her voice. It wasn’t that she worried she’d be unable to fix Alexa’s injuries. But she didn’t want to give that impression when the real source of her anxiety she was still vulnerable to.

She massaged the Yautja antiseptic into the skin of Alexa’s thighs. When she reached the uppermost scratches, she kept tending to them—it seemed less awkward that way. Naru couldn’t bear to stop and put words to what she was doing.

Alexa didn’t respond at all; didn’t even try to dissuade her. With Naru’s fingers barely an inch from Alexa’s groin, the black woman made Naru nearly jump out of her skin by saying plainly: “Damn, ugly mother nearly gave me a clitoridectomy.”