The cell was a perfect cube of translucent black crystal, suspended in a vast, starless void. No doors, no windows, no gravity—only the faint hum of alien energy holding us in place. Elena floated in an identical cell ten meters away, her naked body curled slightly, arms bound behind her back by glowing violet chains that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Her breasts rose and fell with shallow breaths, nipples still hard from the cold, her pussy glistening faintly from the last forced orgasm they'd wrung from her. The sight of her—vulnerable, angry, beautiful—tore at me. I could see her, but I couldn't touch her. Couldn't comfort her. Couldn't even speak to her. The cells were soundproofed, the barrier absolute.
We were prisoners of Extinction.
They had appeared without warning—four of them, two men and two women, stepping out of a rift in plain white gowns that clung to their bodies like liquid light. Their auras were identical to ours: violet for the men, purple for the women. They moved with the same super speed, strength, flight. But their eyes were cold, empty of mercy.
They had conquered worlds—dozens, maybe hundreds. Planets reduced to ash and silence because they refused to kneel. And they were furious at us.
"You waste your power," the taller woman had said, voice flat as she floated above the city wreckage. "Saving. Protecting. You could rule. You choose to serve."
Elena had spat blood and defiance. "We choose to be better than you."
They laughed—low, mechanical. "Then join us. Or be broken."
We refused.
They broke us.
The women came first—two of them, their gowns dissolving into nothing as they entered my cell. One was tall, lean, with pale skin and silver hair; the other shorter, darker, curves almost matching Elena's. They floated toward me, chains tightening to hold me spread-eagled in the air.
The tall one straddled my face first—her pussy already dripping, lips swollen and slick. She lowered herself without a word, smothering me. Warm juices flowed immediately—thick, sweet, coating my tongue, running down my chin. "Lick," she commanded, voice emotionless. "Submit."
I resisted—jaw clenched—but the chains forced my head forward. Her pussy ground down, clit rubbing against my nose, juices flooding my mouth. I had no choice. My tongue moved—lapping at her folds, tasting her arousal. She moaned—low, mechanical—hips rolling, smearing more wetness across my face. "Good boy… deeper… drink me."
The shorter one joined—straddling my hips, her pussy sliding down onto my cock. She was tight, wet, super muscles clenching like Elena's but colder, more mechanical. "He's hard already," she said to her partner, voice flat. "Pathetic."
I hated it—hated them—but my body betrayed me. The tall one rode my face harder—juices pouring, forcing me to swallow, to lick, to breathe her in. "That's it… tongue-fuck me… submit to Extinction." Her orgasm came fast—pussy pulsing, flooding my mouth with more of her release. I choked on it, humiliated, furious.
Across the void, I heard Elena.
The men had entered her cell. Their moans—low, guttural—mixed with hers. She was fighting—I could tell from the muffled curses, the sharp gasps—but they were relentless. One man's tongue was between her legs; I heard the wet sounds of him licking her, sucking her clit. Her moans—unwanted, involuntary—echoed in my skull. "Stop… don't…" But her body betrayed her too—breaths quickening, hips twitching. Then the orgasm—her cry sharp, angry, as she came against her will. The sound tore through me—rage, jealousy, helplessness. Another man touching her, pleasuring her, making her cum. Even if forced, it was wrong. It was mine.
The women switched. The shorter one took my face now—her pussy even wetter, juices flowing freely as she ground down. "Lick, hero. Taste what real power feels like." The tall one knelt between my legs—lips wrapping around my cock, sucking with superhuman precision. Her tongue swirled, throat relaxing to take me deep. I hated it—hated them—but my cock throbbed, betraying me again. "He's close," she said, voice cold. "He'll submit."
I heard Elena again—another orgasm ripped from her, her cry of rage and pleasure echoing. It made my blood boil. I wanted to kill them. All of them.
The next day, the women returned. This time they went to Elena first. I heard the sounds—slaps, hard and deliberate, palm against ass. Elena's moans—angry, unwilling—mixed with the sharp crack of flesh on flesh. "Naughty girl," one woman said. "You need discipline." Another slap—harder—Elena's gasp turning to a moan despite herself. The sound of her ass being spanked—rhythmic, punishing—made my cock harden against my will. The shame burned. I hated that it aroused me, hated that I couldn't stop it.
They came back to me. One woman straddled my face again—pussy dripping, grinding down. The other knelt—lips around my cock, sucking slow and deep. Then they switched—one sucking my dick, the other my balls, tongues working in tandem. "He's leaking," one said. "He wants to submit."
I heard Elena being pleasured again—moans, gasps, orgasms forced from her. Anger and jealousy warred inside me—furious that they touched her, furious that my body reacted to her sounds.
We were trapped—angry, jealous, helpless—listening to each other being used, our bond twisted into torment.