Consummation
folder
M through R › Pitch Black
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
5,719
Reviews:
42
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
M through R › Pitch Black
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
5,719
Reviews:
42
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Pitch Black, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Consummation
This story is for pleasure only. I recieve no compensation from the owners of Pitch Black, monetary, sexual, or otherwise.
ONE
Dark. Empty room. Men shouting. Where’s Riddick? Something stinging me in the neck….
As the hazy fog clung stubbornly to her mind, Jack fought to wake up. What the fuck happened? Images, murky images, flashed in her mind of some men on the ship—strange men. Where was Riddick?
Where was she?
Jack dragged her eyes open, and once the light hit her eyes and her senses woke up, she promptly suppressed a feeling of nausea. The meager contents of her stomach angrily rebelled, so she kept her mouth and eyes firmly clamped shut. She might be able to afford the luxury of being sick if she found out everything was nothing but a nightmare.
She opened her eyes a crack and looked around. She wasn’t in Riddick’s room any longer. It seemed like she wasn’t even on his ship any longer. The knowledge was merely a distant thought. She absorbed it and parked it in the back of her mind to sort through and process later. There were some foul odors surrounding her… old fuel. It smelled like a ships hold, and a not-very-well-kept one at that.
Putting a hand to her aching head, Jack rose to a sitting position. She found she wasn’t in a hold at all. She was in the main cabin of a flying rustbucket. Oil, grease, and other assorted stenches assaulted her senses. It was disgusting.
Where’s Riddick? Where am I?
Jack moved slowly. Her head was throbbing angrily, and her limbs felt weak and shaky. Something serious had happened. Maybe it hadn’t been a nightmare after all. She didn’t know what it could be, but….
“Oh, you’re awake, Princess?”
An unfamiliar voice touched her ears, and she whirled around to face the owner. The rapid motion overbalanced her, and the dizziness claimed her again. Head spinning, she felt, rather than heard, heavy footsteps approaching. A tall man now stood over her prone body. Jack drew herself into a little ball, completely at a loss. What was going on? Why did her head hurt so much?
Where the fuck was Riddick? God, her head hurt. She was trying to figure it all out, but her body kept complaining. Maybe she had been rescued. That would explain it. But why would they drug her? For that, she was certain, was exactly what had happened. How else could she explain the sting in her neck, and her throbbing, rebellious body?
Her stomach roiled inside of her again, and she clutched it tentatively. God, she felt so sick….
“Damn, you are fucking gorgeous, aren’t you?”
The man above her squatted down, and she noted his scraggly beard, the scars on his face, and the mismatched clothing. A... merc?
“You’re the hottest little piece of slave ass I’ve ever seen,” he said, reaching for her chest. Jack pulled away, but she was too weak to even sit up. How was she supposed to fight off this man? This.…
Slaver. The collar around her neck suddenly felt like it was strangling her. She had been grabbed by a slaver. Either Riddick was dead, or captured, or… he’d sold her.
No. No, he wouldn’t have. Not after all the trouble he’d gone to. Not after assuring her, several times over, that she was his, and that he would never let her go.
But how else had she ended up here?
The man’s rough hand pawed at her breasts through the material of her shirt. She closed her eyes and tried not to resist. Resisting would only make things worse. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew that. However, she couldn’t stop her arms from moving of their own accord, trying to shove this brutal, invasive hands away from her. It's not like it was effective at all. She could barely move.
“Gonna fight, huh? I like to fight,” he leered, getting down on both knees and trying to reach underneath her shirt.
“Spinelli! What the fuck are you doing?”
The slaver pulled away from her as though shot. “Nothing, Grange. Not a damn thing.” He hastily stood. Jack watched from the floor as she tried to calm her panicked breaths as he adjusted the material of his pants, probably trying to ease the bulge she could see swelling there. A shiver of distaste coursed through her veins.
“You were trying to get a taste of the merchandise, weren’t you?” The second slaver’s voice wasn’t as greasy, but it’s raspiness filled Jack with apprehension. It was too much like Riddick’s voice. It wasn’t his, she knew that for sure. It wasn’t deep enough. But still, it startled her. Was he here somewhere? No... oh, her head was so muddled.
“Oh, come on. Look at her. When was the last time you saw such a great piece of ass?”
“At the whorehouse on the station. What did Rivers say? Hands off the merchandise.”
“Yeah, but Rivers ain’t here, is he? Big bald guy ghosted him.”
Riddick had killed someone? Well, that shouldn't have come as a surprise, but right then, everything felt like a weary surprise of some sort.
“Maybe so, but I am here. And I say, hands off the merchandise. Rivers put me in charge while he took you boys on the raid, right? And he didn’t come back. Which means I’m still in charge. Got it?”
Jack still couldn’t see the speaker. She didn’t know if she wanted to. He may have been defending her, but he was a slaver. at that point, that was all she was sure of. He was a slaver, and therefore she should stay away from him. He couldn't be trusted, right?
“Well, what we gonna do with her?” the slaver called Spinelli asked.
“We’re gonna keep her tranqued up at first, so we can make sure she won’t cause any problems. Then we’re gonna take her to Uburi Two. We’ll sell her to a dealer there. And in the mean time, we’re not gonna fucking touch her. Got it?”
“Why not, man?” There was a distinct whine to Spinelli’s voice.
“’Cuz I ain’t no rapist, and I don’t give a fuck what you are, but while I’m in charge, neither are you.”
“But—”
“No buts. What’s your name?”
A second pair of boots joined the first, and she realized he was speaking to her. Jack opened her mouth and tried to respond, but nothing came out by a dry croak. She swallowed and tried again. “Jjjaack,” she slurred. What the hell happened to her voice?
“Jack?”
She nodded, feeling another wave of dizziness and nausea wash over her. “Yessh,” she said.
“Weird-ass name for a chick. Well, come on. Can you stand?”
Jack tried to rise to her feet, but toppled over again. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“Spinelli, pick her up.”
Spinelli leered at her, and she winced as his hands caressed her body quickly, lingering on her breasts, before hoisting her into his arms.
“Lead the way… Boss,” he muttered, giving Jack’s ass a squeeze.
ONE
Dark. Empty room. Men shouting. Where’s Riddick? Something stinging me in the neck….
As the hazy fog clung stubbornly to her mind, Jack fought to wake up. What the fuck happened? Images, murky images, flashed in her mind of some men on the ship—strange men. Where was Riddick?
Where was she?
Jack dragged her eyes open, and once the light hit her eyes and her senses woke up, she promptly suppressed a feeling of nausea. The meager contents of her stomach angrily rebelled, so she kept her mouth and eyes firmly clamped shut. She might be able to afford the luxury of being sick if she found out everything was nothing but a nightmare.
She opened her eyes a crack and looked around. She wasn’t in Riddick’s room any longer. It seemed like she wasn’t even on his ship any longer. The knowledge was merely a distant thought. She absorbed it and parked it in the back of her mind to sort through and process later. There were some foul odors surrounding her… old fuel. It smelled like a ships hold, and a not-very-well-kept one at that.
Putting a hand to her aching head, Jack rose to a sitting position. She found she wasn’t in a hold at all. She was in the main cabin of a flying rustbucket. Oil, grease, and other assorted stenches assaulted her senses. It was disgusting.
Where’s Riddick? Where am I?
Jack moved slowly. Her head was throbbing angrily, and her limbs felt weak and shaky. Something serious had happened. Maybe it hadn’t been a nightmare after all. She didn’t know what it could be, but….
“Oh, you’re awake, Princess?”
An unfamiliar voice touched her ears, and she whirled around to face the owner. The rapid motion overbalanced her, and the dizziness claimed her again. Head spinning, she felt, rather than heard, heavy footsteps approaching. A tall man now stood over her prone body. Jack drew herself into a little ball, completely at a loss. What was going on? Why did her head hurt so much?
Where the fuck was Riddick? God, her head hurt. She was trying to figure it all out, but her body kept complaining. Maybe she had been rescued. That would explain it. But why would they drug her? For that, she was certain, was exactly what had happened. How else could she explain the sting in her neck, and her throbbing, rebellious body?
Her stomach roiled inside of her again, and she clutched it tentatively. God, she felt so sick….
“Damn, you are fucking gorgeous, aren’t you?”
The man above her squatted down, and she noted his scraggly beard, the scars on his face, and the mismatched clothing. A... merc?
“You’re the hottest little piece of slave ass I’ve ever seen,” he said, reaching for her chest. Jack pulled away, but she was too weak to even sit up. How was she supposed to fight off this man? This.…
Slaver. The collar around her neck suddenly felt like it was strangling her. She had been grabbed by a slaver. Either Riddick was dead, or captured, or… he’d sold her.
No. No, he wouldn’t have. Not after all the trouble he’d gone to. Not after assuring her, several times over, that she was his, and that he would never let her go.
But how else had she ended up here?
The man’s rough hand pawed at her breasts through the material of her shirt. She closed her eyes and tried not to resist. Resisting would only make things worse. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew that. However, she couldn’t stop her arms from moving of their own accord, trying to shove this brutal, invasive hands away from her. It's not like it was effective at all. She could barely move.
“Gonna fight, huh? I like to fight,” he leered, getting down on both knees and trying to reach underneath her shirt.
“Spinelli! What the fuck are you doing?”
The slaver pulled away from her as though shot. “Nothing, Grange. Not a damn thing.” He hastily stood. Jack watched from the floor as she tried to calm her panicked breaths as he adjusted the material of his pants, probably trying to ease the bulge she could see swelling there. A shiver of distaste coursed through her veins.
“You were trying to get a taste of the merchandise, weren’t you?” The second slaver’s voice wasn’t as greasy, but it’s raspiness filled Jack with apprehension. It was too much like Riddick’s voice. It wasn’t his, she knew that for sure. It wasn’t deep enough. But still, it startled her. Was he here somewhere? No... oh, her head was so muddled.
“Oh, come on. Look at her. When was the last time you saw such a great piece of ass?”
“At the whorehouse on the station. What did Rivers say? Hands off the merchandise.”
“Yeah, but Rivers ain’t here, is he? Big bald guy ghosted him.”
Riddick had killed someone? Well, that shouldn't have come as a surprise, but right then, everything felt like a weary surprise of some sort.
“Maybe so, but I am here. And I say, hands off the merchandise. Rivers put me in charge while he took you boys on the raid, right? And he didn’t come back. Which means I’m still in charge. Got it?”
Jack still couldn’t see the speaker. She didn’t know if she wanted to. He may have been defending her, but he was a slaver. at that point, that was all she was sure of. He was a slaver, and therefore she should stay away from him. He couldn't be trusted, right?
“Well, what we gonna do with her?” the slaver called Spinelli asked.
“We’re gonna keep her tranqued up at first, so we can make sure she won’t cause any problems. Then we’re gonna take her to Uburi Two. We’ll sell her to a dealer there. And in the mean time, we’re not gonna fucking touch her. Got it?”
“Why not, man?” There was a distinct whine to Spinelli’s voice.
“’Cuz I ain’t no rapist, and I don’t give a fuck what you are, but while I’m in charge, neither are you.”
“But—”
“No buts. What’s your name?”
A second pair of boots joined the first, and she realized he was speaking to her. Jack opened her mouth and tried to respond, but nothing came out by a dry croak. She swallowed and tried again. “Jjjaack,” she slurred. What the hell happened to her voice?
“Jack?”
She nodded, feeling another wave of dizziness and nausea wash over her. “Yessh,” she said.
“Weird-ass name for a chick. Well, come on. Can you stand?”
Jack tried to rise to her feet, but toppled over again. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“Spinelli, pick her up.”
Spinelli leered at her, and she winced as his hands caressed her body quickly, lingering on her breasts, before hoisting her into his arms.
“Lead the way… Boss,” he muttered, giving Jack’s ass a squeeze.