Wrong Place, Wrong Time (5)

Sahara stood before the snow-filled vid screen. Her palms felt a bit sweaty from nerves, her heart pulsed heavily in her chest.

What made the Uralians so upset was beyond understanding.

With the vid-screen out, they could still steer, tractor beam, defend…all the things you could do with  the screen working. Okay, it wasn’t the best to go blind through the skies, but they could use the radar chart instead.

Her feet gripped the strange, soft, flooring under her toes, as she pressed the lock-release tool to the bottom corners of the panel, releasing the magnetic locks.

Naked, she had no pockets to slip the tool into, so she put it carefully back in the pouch.

With a tug-and-twist, she pried off the cover.

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

She stared into the tangled mass of coils and lines. Eyes expertly followed each on its pathway. Reaching down for the next tool, she quickly disengaged these locks, and gently began separating each coil from where it ‘locked in’ on the back of the electrode panel.

Opening this section would, hopefully, open into a cavity within the bulkhead, allowing her to view any leaking coils, or broken links that were snowing the screen.

Finding the broken link could take a few minutes, if she were lucky, or a few days, if the leak was small.

:proceed with caution here:

She resisted the urge to throw a ‘no shit, Sherlock’ at him. Bending once more to the tool pouch, she slid a thin device from it.

They had a very nice collection of toys here, she mused, fingering it.

She knelt down on the flooring, and began to loosen the lower panel. She’d only unfastened one junction when his tentacle coiled around her wrist, pulling her backwards onto her ass.

Sprawling at his ‘feet’, she looked up at him with exasperation.

:NOW what the fuck? : she asked him.

:ignore me not, bipedal female:  His “voice” was warning. She lay there looking up at him.

:do you want me to fix the fucking panel or not:

She dropped the tool on the floor, relaxed her body, and closed her eyes feigning sleep. A sharp slap across her belly had her sitting up, fast.

: if you hit me a-fucking-gain, i’m gonna take this tool belt and shove it up your ever-fucking ass!:

When her temper flared, it went turbo, and she was spitting mad now. Pulled and pushed, suspended and spanked, and stopped several times before she could start the task that could earn her release.

A tentacle slapped across her torso, pinning her to the floor, another darted between her legs, and pushed, hard and unwelcome, into her anus.

She would have shrieked, but the fucking alien slapped another tentacle across her mouth, silencing her as his other arm explored her nether region.

He was not gentle but he didn’t harm her. He fed that tip up and up her butthole, making her writhe. Tears leaked from her eyes, as she fought the invasion of her deepest inner space.

The tip of the beast pressed against her womb from the backside, making her moan and cry out.

: STOP! PLEASE~ sorry, sorry….:

She felt the probing tip slip out, and she slumped, defeated, and punished. Sniffling sobs leaked from her lips, tears from her eyes.

There was a sense of satisfaction from her “owner” ~ he had finally found a path to subdue her. The fucktard.

:you will be obedient, or you will be punished :

she nodded, swiping her arm across her runny nose, and tried not to pout.

Her throbbing asshole was a potent reminder that she was, after all, a prisoner here.