Page 45 of Warped

He watches them through slitted eyes, barely cognizant of what they are doing. The sights and sounds barely register with his mind. The grunts of the two men spit-roasting a woman on their erections. Her muffled moans as the one in front fills her mouth with his seminal fluid. The cries of the other two women as they ride the warper’s face and penis, respectively. The scent of their dripping cunts.

It is a pleasant scent… but not the one the Psi-hound is searching for.

He understands a little about this mission he’s been sent on. Snippets of thought gleaned from his handlers’ minds. He understands that there is a large sum of money to be made. Anungodlyamount, to borrow a term from those who believe in things such as gods. He understands that the woman he’s tracking wishes somehow to spoil that financial opportunity, and therefore she must be eliminated.

That will be the other men’s job. Mikkelson and Lundgren. All the Psi-hound must do is lead them to her. If he’s successful, he will receive no monetary compensation as a reward. No piece of that ungodly fortune his masters stand to make from this whole affair.

He doesn’t care. Money is of no consequence to him. All that matters is the scent.

He must find the scent…

Suddenly, his body goes rigid. He has caught something. Not the scent, but an intuition, a hunch, and that is almost as good. He opens his eyelids fully and stares at the big blue warper lying on his back beneath the two writhing, howling women.

“Lundgren.”

He is answered with a muffled grunt.

“There is a way station up ahead.”

Two more grunts that might be the words: “So what?”

“The ship we’re following may have stopped there to recharge. If so, it will give me an opportunity to regain their scent. Kindly go to the cockpit and steer us in close, so I can check.”

Lundgren shoves the woman off his face and snarls. His augmetic eyes are glowing red and crazed with lust, like the eyes of a demon crossed with some wild beast caught in the throes of its seasonal rut.

“Fuck you!” he barks. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

On the other side of the hold, the man named Stanley is stroking his erect shaft, squeezing a few last drops of semen into the openmouth of the woman who is servicing him. He turns his eyes toward Lundgren with a glare of disdain.

“You’re the only one who can fly this thing,” he says. “Now do as the hound says, and get your stupid ass in the cockpit.”

Lundgren remains unmoved. He returns the man’s glare with an even deadlier glare of his own.

“Talk to me like that again,” he growls. “And you’ll be the one with a dick in your mouth.”

Stanley’s face blanches. His erection withers.

Mikkelson, still thrusting into the woman from behind, sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Lundgren,” he says without slowing the rhythm of his fucking. “Remember the bonus we’re gonna get if we catch her? With money like that, you’ll be able to get yourself a whole harem of whores. Now please, do as the Psi-hound says.”

Lundgren scowls at him for a moment. Then he grips the hips of the woman on his lap, raises her up a little, and begins viciously slamming his cock into her from below, fucking her with such violence it seems as though he is trying to kill her with his cock.

The woman does not seem to mind.

“Oh my God!” she cries. “Baby, I can feel it. I can feel you coming inside me. Oh my God, it feels so fucking good!”

It takes Lundgren several seconds to finish ejaculating. When he’s finally done, he tosses the woman aside like a spoiled child discarding a toy in which he has lost interest. He rises and stomps away toward the cockpit, his hard member swingingback and forth in front of him, slinging a few last drops of fluid in its wake.

The others watch him until he is out of sight. Then they return to what they were doing before. The woman who had been sitting on Lundgren’s face crawls over to her companion, whom the big warper just filled with seed, and kisses her passionately on the mouth. Then she lowers her face between the woman’s open thighs and starts to lap at the warm, thick cream leaking out of her. Both women moan with renewed ecstasy.

The sight is more than the Psi-hound can stand. All his pent-up pleasure starts oozing out of his swollen tip, drooling down his throbbing shaft to pool on the floor between his folded legs.

It doesn’t matter. The Psi-hound is no longer worried about distractions. He is certain he will find what he seeks at the way station.

He will find the woman’s scent.

CHAPTER 19: BINX

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