White powder kicked up into the air as Lillian Cadmon, OCNI Operative, ran for her life through the snow-covered forest.
The mission had, initially, been a simple one. Not that Lillian could remember all that much of it, her hypnotic training having erased her mind of all objectives except her current ones; get the data she was carrying to the shuttle, get the shuttle through the Affini blockade and out of this system. Of the two objectives, she wasn’t expecting the half kilometer hike through the snow to be the more dangerous.
Abruptly the ground ahead of her dove at an angle, and not even hesitating Lillian dove feet first down the gully, letting gravity carry her even as she twisted around. Leveling her snapcaster pistol, she fired once, expecting her pursuer to be right behind her. Her pursuer, an Affini who’d introduced - introduced! - herself cheerfully as one Phoraleuca Alkmene, First Bloom, right before giving chase.
She wasn’t. The report of the gun was nothing compared to sound made by the splintering trunk of the now falling tree that she had hit, twisting and snapping other branches on its way down, obscuring Lillian’s muttered cursing. It didn’t obscure the eerie voice from deeper in the forest, however.
“You’re just prolonging the inevitable, little flower. Don’t bother wasting your energy like this, you’ll just be domesticated tired~!”
Scrabbling to her feet, Lillian scrambled along the creek bed, somewhat unsteady from the uneven footing, but when the fallen tree crashed into the gully in the opposite direction she’d been running, her feet slipped out from under her. Lillian bit back an expression of pain as she hit the soft, white fluff and the solid ice beneath. Spitting out a mouthful of snow, Lillian rolled over, trying to fight back the rising tide of panic.
Phora was smiling down at her from atop the embankment. “Are you alright, sweetling? That looked like it hurt…”
Lillian returned the condescending smile with a snarl of her own. “Not as much as this will, you stars-damned xeno weed!” She whipped her arm up out of the snowdrift, and the crack of her pistol made her vision swim for a moment. When it finally cleared, she saw not a smoking mess of plant, like she expected, but simply… a gap in Phora’s chest, smoothly closing, where it had parted to let the projectile through her body harmlessly.
Another crack rang out, Lillian’s second shot going wide as a vine lunged out, forcing the woman’s wrist up over her head, and the gun was taken away from her before she could fire a third. “Now now, sweetling, we can’t let you have that. Too much chance you’d hurt yourself with it…” More vines lashed around Lillian’s other limbs, pinning her down in the snow, not letting her do much else but thrash, as Phoraleuca took her time, walking closer.
A spike of fear made Lillian thrash even harder against her captor, but it was useless; the vines holding her down had her in an utterly immovable grip. “L-let me go, you- ahn!” Choking back a surprised moan, Lillian wriggled, trying in vain to get away from the vine that had snaked itself under her tactical jacket and beneath her blouse, leaving a trail of electric sensation wherever it caressed - and it was a caress, part of her noted - her skin. It was hot to the touch, she realized, keeping her warm despite the wintry weather.
Or maybe that was just her sudden flush.
Phoraleuca leaned down over Lillian’s restrained body, grinning widely, revealing a mouth full of thorns, glistening with the promise of some unknown cocktail of xenodrugs. The simple sight of it flooded Lillian’s system with adrenaline; her heart pounding in her ears, she nearly missed what Phora said next. “Oh, enjoyed that, did we?”
Lillian’s blush deepened at that, and she tore her eyes away from the Affini’s mouth. “S-shut up! What would you know anyway!?” Futilely, she squirmed in Phora’s grasp, the Affini’s steel grip not really letting her move in any way more dignified than that.
Phora’s chuckle in reply was deep and rhythmic. “You know, sweetling, I can’t help but notice that isn’t a no.” Lillian’s response, no doubt another stream of invectives, was cut off by a shriek as Phora twisted her vines beneath Lillian’s clothes and tore them open with one powerful movement. More vines coiled around Lillian’s now exposed stomach and breasts, protecting her from the chill and sending electric shivers of pleasure through her body with the slightest movement.
Between gasps and moans of pleasure, and her rising embarrassment at the mewling sounds being forced from her, it took a few moments for Lillian to gather herself enough to ask, eyes wide with a mixture of terror and longing, “W-what are y-you going to do to me?”
Phora’s sharp grin widened even further. “Why, my sweet little prey… I’m going to claim you, of course…” Slowly, she leaned in closer, letting the anticipation build in Lillian’s trembling form, then clamped her mouth down over the Terran girl’s collarbone, sinking her thorns in deep. Xenodrugs pumped into the girl’s system, leaving a trail of fiery ecstasy in their wake.
The primal scream that was torn from Lillian had absolutely nothing to do with fear or pain.
Letting out a self-satisfied noise and sipping contentedly at her mug of hot chocolate, Lillian Alkmene, First Floret, snuggled deeper against Phoraleuca’s chest and watched the simulated fireplace on their hab’s display crackle away merrily. “Thanks for letting me pretend to be a spy this time, Mistress~!”
Phora let her vines ruffle through Lillian’s hair, earning herself a few pleasured sounds. “It was a good idea, my little Lily; added a little extra spice to our little games, I agree. How’s your shoulder? Not bothering you too much, I hope?”
Despite the cute little sounds she was making, Lillian’s satisfied expression somehow got even more smug as she replied, “It doesn’t bother me at all, Mistress…” She took a deep breath, luxuriating in the feel of the wounds in her shoulder throbbing in time with her heart, which beat in time with her owner’s rhythm. “Just another welcome reminder that you own the keys to my heart and soul.”
At a loss for words, Phora simply wrapped her floret a little tighter against her, reveling in the close contact. For a time the two sat in contented silence, punctuated only by the crackle of the simulated fireplace, and the occasional whimper when one of Phora’s vines found a particularly sensitive spot on Lillian’s head. A silence that was eventually broken by Lillian’s voice. “Maybe next time we can do gladiators, Mistress?”
“Honestly, sweetling. Sometimes I think I let you watch too many videos...”