Page 15 of Condemned

Chapter Seven

Zo watched as theyhauled Avalon onto the cart and balanced her there with her hands bound and fixed above to a rudimentary framework of timber. Even knowing it was fake blood, he found the scene formidable. He wasn’t gruesomely inclined.

He’d stuck the thing in her, watching the advance as the dildo magically vanished into her cunt, watched her squirm despite the liquor they’d made her drink. For the best. With only a few minutes to absorb Kon’s cum she’d never have relaxed enough, and he truly did not want to see her torn apart.

It was true he liked torturing his females, but that was in fun. Sadistic fun, and orgasms made everyone feel good in the end, despite the bruises he left on them. His dick had been so hard after he’d shoved that thing in. He wondered at his own need for perversion.

Since the war began, he’d been chaste. There was something awful about participating in sexual pursuits when you’ve just shot or stabbed a man, and watched your friends do the same. He’d seen men ridden into the dust, seen things he’d never detail to another unless compelled to.

But this one? Avalon, the squirmy huleon thief with baby claws, and a mouth full of curses when she was riled, who’d agreed to be theirs? He’d savored dildo fucking her.

Her moans had seemed to fall on this side of pleasure, as much as they’d signaled pain, and that was extremely interesting. Unlike female mauleons, this one was small. He could tie her up and do so many things to her so very easily.

The parade through town was a simple affair.

The main street was straight and hedged in by both stone and metal buildings, and the latter were streaked with rust—the usual mix of old high-tech and new low-tech construction.

The two-centuries-old planetary Quarantine had killed technology except for what people could jury-rig in their homes. The battle satellites circling the world blasted anything big and mechanical, especially if it were mobile, and every factory built before Quarantine had been consigned to oblivion. So had every single one built since then.

Build anything that drew the attention of the orbiting sats and you risked obliteration.

The rusted scraps of blown-up vehicles littered the roads.

They’d headed the cart, with Avalon swaying in it, straight out of town.

One naked girl in a cart drawn by a florse. Her head hung low and he was sure she barely registered the sloppy pieces of fruit thrown by a few idiots. Stealing the Claw bothered some more than others. There was jeering and yelling but most of the onlookers seemed shocked. Shocked and curious. Voyeurs of death.

History verified that whether death was by hanging, shooting, impaling, or whatever, people were drawn to watch.

The law had its way, no matter how stupid it might be.

People obeyed, except for his soldier brothers. That Captain Takk had dug in his heels said a lot. That male was as rigid about the law and rules as anyone he’d ever come across.

Though concealed by forest from anyone traveling on the nearby road, the pre-dug grave was easy to find. There were only birds, bugs, and the lonely court clerk to worry about. They took Avalon off the cart, removed the dildo spear—or fuckspear as Kondio fondly called it—and lowered her into the grave.

None of the townsfolk had followed this far out but the clerk watched from a small ridge.

It was far enough away that they could deceive him and talk about options as they picked up the shovels.

Timin fired the pistol shot next to her head and they shoveled in the dirt, having flipped baskets over her head and body. Those had been left in the grave from the hour they’d dug it. It was Takk’s forethought—he planned everything he could, left little to chance. Those baskets were her best hope. If the soil squashed them flat, she’d die. Enough weight of soil could stop anyone’s chest from moving, would crush this girl down and suffocate her even if she had air around her mouth.

His stoical expression was faked when they threw the first shovelful. Under that basket were her rosy lips, those pretty eyes. She was alive and they buried her.

Zo cursed the obstinacy of the clerk.

They patted down the grave lightly and left with the clerk, riding away from her.

All of them were wishing her luck.

That she wouldn’t be dead.

The clerk had made it plain they needed to go to the town and sign the death form before they could go elsewhere.

Fuck.That word was heavy in Zo’s mind and he rarely swore.

This was the only problem they could not have predicted or allowed for—having to ride back into town. He glanced backward. Birds flew overhead, cawing. Black ones. The trees around the grave site were backlit by the late morning sun, branches clawing the sky.

His florse heaved beneath him and he realized someone had flicked at its flank.