Strangers on a Steampunk Train Ch. 03

No sex between our primary lovers in this chapter, but there is some sexy...I'll keep a secret.

It's still sexy ;)

Enjoy

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Chapter 3: Demons in the Bed

I opened my eyes to find a solid white ceiling staring back at me. No graffiti. No blood or mysterious holes. A solid white ceiling. It was warm. I was in a small bed, with standard-issue red sheets. Soft. It was familiar, even the air seemed familiar. I breathed in and turned my head. I certainly wasn't in my hovel of an apartment, and I wasn't back home.

"Morning," a soft voice said. Viktor sauntered into the room, pulling his red uniform over his cut abs. The world felt fuzzy. My brain lulled back towards sleep, and then I saw it: the technapad, sitting plain as day on his tiny black metal bedside table. The black box with the wiry knobs and stylized keyboard. The little piece I had been hoping and praying for had finally turned up. I didn't even care how it showed up; though I was sure I was going to find out, soon enough. I lurched towards it—realizing only then that I had no shirt, no pants. I instinctively tried to cover my small breasts, but I could feel something pinching my skin: white bandages.

"You are really lucky he just got your arm." My right forearm was wrapped heavily, and felt tense and spastic. Viktor looked down at me with his blue eyes, baby-blond hair still wet from the shower. He sat next to me, carefully, and leaned back. His eyes were cold and his voice was stern. "This time, you've got no needles, and there's no mysterious hole that's going to open up and eat me—so, tell me: who are you?"

I had been asked the same question hundreds of times. Today, I was out of tricks. I was tired, and exhausted. I was too lazy to even make up a good lie. I opened my mouth but he waved his hand preemptively, "and don't you lie to me," he said harshly. With a sigh, he stood up. "Nevermind. Don't bother. Where are do you live now?"

"In the factory district," I said, to his absolute disgust. He recoiled, and wanted to know how I made money, or could afford food. I told him about Elaine, the foreign woman who fed me with hopes of becoming my consort. I told him about the other men and women who were curious. His eyes only became fiery. His feet paced angrily in front of me. He took up the technapad and examined it closely.

"It's like a computer," I said. "It contains a huge energy source, and, if I can get that back to my lab, I may be able to stop the monsters from showing up, once and for all." He didn't respond, and simply packed the pad into a leather bag. He had only one request: show him my lab. Wordless, and very tense, he helped me into my clothing. His hands seemed to recoil every time he touched my skin, and his eyes looked ferociously on edge, as though he would snap at any moment. Any hope I had of him curling up next to me like a pet went out the window. He seated me at a small table across from the bed. Before I could even get comfortable, he came back, a plate full of pancakes in hand. My stomach let out a huge growl the moment I saw them. I recognized the smell in the air, and shoveled them into my mouth before the plate even touched the table. Viktor sat down next to me with his own. I kept eating, completely unable to stop. There was no end. My stomach had become a pit. Viktor sat silent, arms crossed. The sound of pancakes slapping around my mouth filled the pregnant air.

"Are you going to tell me who you are?" he said coldly.

"Emeline." I smiled up at him, but he wasn't placated. "I'm a scientist from Berlitz." His jaw tightened. I could read his mind. "It's true. I'm from Berlitz. Just like you." I took another bite. "It's a surprise, isn't it?" I laughed. "I studied at the Royal University, and was a technician on a highly secretive and sensitive project, until, of course, I found myself in this mess." Viktor leaned forward. His eyes were stern. He avoided coming too close to me.

"There is no Royal University in Berlitz."

"Not in your Berlitz," I smiled. I stopped and looked up to his face. The coal miner was trying to restrain his emotions. He wanted to look calm, and I was enjoying hanging my knowledge over his head. If he chose to turn on me I'd be dead, but I had ceased to care. A reckless carelessness took over me. If I didn't know better, I'd say I wanted to be caught. I wanted to be finished. I wanted to return home, and, now that I had found the technapad, it was possible. However, this also meant my journey was just beginning. Coming home wouldn't mean the end of my tribulations.

"What are you doing here," he whispered, almost angry. "I'm going to get fired, and probably thrown in with your lot, if what you're saying is true." My back straightened and my temper flared.

"Well, it is true, so what are you going to do?" I said. He grumbled and rolled his eyes in disbelief. "You stalked me, remember?" I felt a little disappointed, even insulted. "Guess my pussy's not worth being thrown in jail. I'm sorry, obviously no one's pussy is worth going to jail for." He scraped a pancake onto my empty plate with a glower.

"Shut up," he commanded. "Guess I only like you with your dress off." His eyes looked me up and down, and he leaned back. I couldn't read him. "How's your hand?" I flexed, and told him I couldn't really feel it. I wanted to remove the wrapping. He complied, still avoiding my eyes and my skin. With the cast off, there was only the discolored, grotesque wound. Slowly, I moved my fingers. He assured me he had used everything he could get to make it heal properly. Feeling the air on my palm, I was able to move it—slowly but surely.

He led me to the door of his rickety working-class building and looked up and down the street cautiously. His large hand grabbed mine possessively, as though I would escape. We descended the wooden steps, and something shot through me. I felt warm. It was sunny. My stomach was full. I was either his friend of his prisoner. Either way, it came with a kitchen.

A black car pulled into sight as we approached the street. The passenger door swung open. One tall, bald-headed man stepped out and my gut turned. His eyes were dead-set on Viktor, there was no doubt about it. I opened my mouth, but Viktor's fist was already raised. My hand went straight for the knife in my garter. A man's hand went covered my mouth and I screamed through his fat fingers. He hoisted me up and into the black car, all the while muffling my voice. Bone on bone rung in my ears. I pressed my nose to the window, and ripped at the locked door, but it wouldn't budge. Two more men had appeared from around the corner and were beating Viktor into the ground. Before I could try again for the knife, my hands were in tight metal cuffs. I winced under the pain. A sweet voice purred into my ear.

"You are very secretive, Emeline." Whirling around, I saw the tall and elegant Elaine, dressed in a knee-length black silk dress. Her slender neck and shoulders were relaxed and smooth. Her perfect profile struck me like the painting of a goddess. Her hair was tied back tightly around her head. "I thought we were friends." She scooted nearer and moved in close, brushing my hair aside. "I have a number of questions," she whispered. "I'll save them for a more comfortable location." Her hand fell softly on my small leg, and I knew instantly I had been already drugged. The moment that man put his hand over my mouth, I had inhaled something. Elaine's long face melted into a mish-mash of color, and the sound of the car died out slowly.

Again, I awoke laying down. This time, I was more prepared. I was tied down to a bed with leather straps. At least I was clothed this time. The bright white lights overhead shined in my eyes, but I could make out the laboratory-white walls, and the two-way mirror. I stared into it; she was there, no doubt. I couldn't see a thing, but I knew she was watching. I cursed under my breath. The door swung open and heels clanked on the hard ground.

"Hello, again, princes," she said and, for the first time, I heard the evil resonating in her voice. "Now, before we start, I'm going to let you know the rules." Behind Elaine stood her assistant, vigorously taking notes. "I'm going to ask you some very straight-forward questions, and you are going to answer them." Hatred was building up in my throat. "You are going to answer them now, or later." I had too much work to do to be stuck here. I was already in the middle of a war, what was I supposed to do now?

"Why do you care?" I spit back at her. "Is it because I wouldn't play into your little game? Is this revenge, or are you going to make a perfume out of me and sell me to rich princes?" Elaine slammed her hands on the side of the bed, shaking the earth beneath me. I could see the intensity rising off of her skin. She opened her big brown eyes and locked on to me.

"I deal in secrets, my dear. I know how to make things disappear, or, in your case, appear." She straightened her back again, regaining composure. "I know you have something that is valuable to me." Her long fingers preened the shape of her dress around her waist. "Here is how today is going to go," she said calmly.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with," I responded. "This information you want to peddle can kill or save thousands of people." She rolled her eyes. "Go fuck yourself," I spat. Elaine's face went wide with shock and she turned in a huff. Her assistant followed her briskly out of the room without another word. The moment they exited, a pair of scrub-covered doctors in face masks came into the room and immediately began checking me out. They pinched and poked me, and stuck needles in my skin. A hand twisted my leg to the left and right. Another moved my hair, and felt my forehead. They spoke to each other in a language I didn't understand. My focus and bravery was waning, but I knew it would. I could only last for so long here; I wasn't some brave hero. Still, I wasn't ready to sell my country's secrets. I clenched my jaw and stared at the ceiling. I just had to get through this. They would get tired, leave, and I would find an escape.

In my periphery, I saw the doctor look to the two-way mirror and pause. My breath stopped in my chest when he nodded. I felt the pinch of a needle in my arm and an immediate burning sensation took over. It felt like fire running through my veins. It ran through my arm and into my chest. It was a pressure—the weight of being crushed invisibly. I held in my screams, but groaned, deeply, like a wounded animal. A second subtle pinch entered my other arm, and the pain grew. I clenched my eyes shut. Tears spilled out of the corners. I bit my lip and began to thrash. In my mind, I was replaying memories of home: my brothers, my lab, my work. It slowly subsided, and I felt wave after wave of relief as I regained consciousness. A third needle pierced my leg and the process repeated. I let out a loud cry and lurched forward, snapped back only by my leather bindings. My body contorted to the side, trying to escape or rub out the pain. Viktor's face came to my mind. It wasn't a memory. It was just his image. The way he would look at me if we were elsewhere. Pain shot through my head. My body was so tightly clenched, it had begun to fall apart. I'm not sure how long I sat in the bed under the eyes of the doctors, but it ended in a daze. I couldn't feel, and I could barely see. They untied me and left me locked in the room. It must have been a whole night before I opened my eyes again.

Looking around, there was nothing. The room was empty, and perfectly pristine. I had to find a plan. I knew I couldn't stand a second round. There was no chance of it. I was a proud person, but I didn't have that much faith in myself. Finally, as I sat brooding, the door clicked open. The same clink of heels came in my direction. Elaine, in her black form-fitting dress with gold lining tight around her neck, marched my direction. Her black heels came into my line of sight.

"What do you want?" I asked angrily.

"How are we feeling today?" she asked, her brown eyes twinkling, like usual. "Are we ready to behave this time around, or do I need to call the doctors." I recoiled and craned to the two-way mirror. I asked if they were here; she assured me they were not. They would only come if she called them in. "We are completely alone. So, anything you may wish to share, you can do it, now. Face-to-face. No one has to know it was you. It's only between us." A grin spread across her regal jaw. I looked up, my eyes wide. My green dress was ripped to bits, and my hair was a curly golden trainwreck. "Oh, I love your eyes, but eyes don't do anything for me." Her finger trailed up my neck, lifting my chin up. Her large breasts seemed to be magnified by the cut of her dress. Her body curved perfectly from her neck to her large breasts, slim waist and thick thighs, down to two thin ankles tightly pressed together.

I rolled to my knees and snatched her by the waist. She shook, but remained silent. My hands looked small against her tall body. I locked my eyes onto hers, and slowly traced my hands up her strong thighs to her black laced underwear. Her soft skin was warm, a smooth layer coating the muscle. Her eyes wanted to turn away, but she couldn't. I wasn't certain how much of this was planned and how much was natural. My insides were throbbing and my legs squeezed together against my will. I couldn't hold back; her gaze made me blissfully brave. There was no teasing, no games. I had to be inside of her. My fingers moved her panties aside and felt her warm, pulsing lips. I rubbed a finger slowly up their ridge. My sexual desire was waning. I didn't want to have sex with her; I didn't want her inside of me. I wanted to fuck her. Her gaze glossed over and she stared through me. Her head was still held high, as though she were a queen, but I was about to dominate.

My finger traced up and down her lips, feeling them become wetter each time. I could smell her, and it was a scent I had never known before. She even smelled weak. I wanted to topple her. It was too fast; I could have taken it slower, but I pushed through her folds with my fingers and watched her head go back as she moaned loudly. I put my mouth onto her and sucked, her juices hanging to my lips. Her hand gripped the back of my head, pulling me in. I swung her leg over my shoulder and let her balance herself against me. She was burning up, but refused to buck or ride me. She was too proud for that. She expected me to take her for a ride.

I gripped onto her large, muscular thighs and held her tight. I dug my nails into her thick skin. My tongue slipped up around her clit and darted deep inside. I went deeper and deeper, feeling her unravel.

"You're a whore," she said defiantly. I looked up to spy a trace of distress peeking through her somber demeanor. I waited. I wanted her to remember those words, and know why I was making her scream. Calm, I took two fingers and traced back up to her clit, barely touching her skin. She shuttered and clenched my hair, half trying to pry me away from her. I watched her face change as I slipped a third finger into her tight ass hole, but she didn't fight. I rubbed her insides once, twice, and she let out a huge cry. Her vagina was tensing around my fingers. The wet pores were throbbing the more I rubbed. She moaned viciously and lean over, gripping my shoulder. Her body spasmed, desperate to cum. She was completely lost in riding me. I let her use me, ramming herself onto my hand with all of her strength.

"If I'm a whore, shouldn't you be fucking me?" I asked, challenging her. A serious look returned to her lips and I could feel her tense. There was a fire in her eyes. I took her hand and pressed her fingers into her own vagina. Her body convulsed and sweat broke out on her forehead as she came. Suddenly, I threw her leg out from under her and watched her smack against the ground with a painful thud. I scurried up her body, clawing, and punched her as hard as I could—right in her beautiful face. Her perfect, luscious lip was bleeding faintly against her dark make-up. In a snap, she was unconscious and I searched her skewed pockets for keys.

Outside my room was silence. There seemed to be no one in my wing, whatsoever. She was telling the truth; we were really alone. The walls were all the same laboratory-white, with no indication of what was inside. Each door had a number on it, a small bronze plate. I tried to count down: 12, 11, 10, 9, I turned the corner and found myself at 14. There was no logic. The skin of my feet slipped and stretched on the cold tiles. I was starting to jog; soon, I was running. There was no end. Had I been here already? Turn left. Turn left. Everything looked the same. My breathing was shallow, as though the air was disappearing. A familiar voice called my name quietly.

"Emeline!" I spied a glass window on an ordinary white door. My heart jumped. "Emeline?" the voice repeated, a bit louder. There was no doubt. It was Viktor. I sprinted back and rolled onto my tip-toes to see into the room. Viktor ran, and met me at the door. He looked haggard, exhausted. "Thank god, you're alright. How did you get out?" He asked. I hurt. My head, my insides, everything hurt. There was a sob building in my throat. I assured him it wasn't important. My hand was throbbing. I was still clutching the metal keyring. Frantic, I tried to test each key, but my hand was shaking. Everything inside of me was panicking, screaming. My head kept me going; I couldn't stop, now. The third key fit in perfectly and turned. The door swung open. Viktor squeezed through the door and took me in his arms, crushing my body against his hard chest. He wrapped around my waist, and lifted my feet off the ground.

"You don't look good, Emeline," he whispered in my ear. "We have to get out of here." He pulled back and stared down at me with his big, crystal blue eyes. "Come on," he demanded and pulled me behind him. He threaded through the halls, carefully and purposefully.

"How do you know where we're going?" I whispered.

"It's not so far," he said, eyes still forward. "I could hear people coming and going through the front door." We skidded to a stop in front of a large metal door. Viktor had his hand on the exit, ready to push to freedom. "But where are our things?" He paused. "Be one hundred percent honest with me," he said. "Do we need to get the gadget back? How important is it?" Fate ran through my head. I could foresee everything that would happen. If we escaped, I could say goodbye to my plans. I could forget about my old life, and my old exhausting duties, and do something new. If we went back, there would be danger. I wanted to leave it all behind. I wanted to give up my duties and not care about anyone but me. I wanted hot pancakes every morning and someone I could trust—no vipers, like Elaine.

"We have to go back," I said coldly. "Without the technapad, I'll never be able to communicate with my home world, again. It's my only chance." He seemed unphased, as though everything I said was completely ordinary. He gripped my hand tighter. We returned back to the halls, traveling up and down, looking for a sign. And then the quiet patter of our feet was broken: heels.

I grabbed Viktor and held him against the wall. I whispered that one of our captor's was mulling about the place. A siren pierced the air and the light cut out into a dull floodlight, coupled with flashing streams of red. The door we had just left behind slammed open, and an army of feet and shouts entered the room. It was then that I saw it: a door unlike the others—no number. We slipped closer and struggled with the keys. Viktor inspected the other doors down the hall, hoping for an indication of any kind. The door finally swung open: it was an office. An ordinary office. I went to the next, but the sound of feet were coming closer. Viktor called me down the hallway and told me come to him. I tried the last door. Just as we unlocked it, the face of a guard came into the periphery. A gunshot blasted, and we slammed the heavy metal door behind us. The fire of a gun sent my heart racing. I collapsed against the wall, eyes wide and frozen in terror. I was dry heaving; I was laying, bleeding in the train car. I was staring into the eyes of that suited man. I was cold. Viktor grabbed me my the arms,