Whispers in the hallway have offered no clear indication as to where you are or who has brought you here. Your family warned you that terrorists were attacking everywhere. They pleaded with you not to go on the research trip to South America, but the opportunity was one you couldn’t pass up. When the bright lights appeared above the camp, you assumed it was helicopters bringing the final group of scientists and archeologists. Within a few moments you noticed the lights weren’t accompanied by the usual whirring of the copter blades. Then came the screaming and horrible laughter.
You must have fought. The bandages on your arms are distinct evidence of some kind of trauma and you can feel a gash on the side of your head. The lack of light has made it impossible to see what is under the fabric wrapping your arms. Still, it is obvious someone has been tending to you while you sleep. The bandages have been consistently changed and your clothes and body kept clean.
When you woke this time you were confused at the lack of food in the cell. The realization that you had not been roused to be fed caused you to sit at attention on the small cot. For some time you’ve sat anxiously, running your fingers along the frayed edge of your khaki shorts. Your jailers have allowed you to remain conscious for much longer than usual and you’ve been shivering, not from cold, but anticipation. Your sharp mind recognizes that change in routine will bring opportunity. The question is whether it’s the opportunity to meet your captors or your doom.
You blink as light washes through the cell and wait for your eyes to adjust. When they do you see a cloaked figure standing before you. Though the body is humanoid, the face partially hidden by the hood is most certainly alien. Scars warp the bluish skin in a manner similar to intense burns. An intricate metal mask highlights an extended chin and wickedly pointed teeth.
“You do not cower before me, Midgardian?” barks a guttural voice.
You have no idea what a Midgardian is, but in this situation you decide it best not to show fear. It’s possible that aliens, like animals, can sense weakness and will attack. Instead you straighten your shoulders, make direct eye-contact, and try your hardest to keep the trembling from your voice.
“Should I? You have kept me safe and sustained, if uninformed. That means I am here for a purpose or you would have already killed me.”
The hooded man assesses you. “I, Corvus Glaive, have killed many of your useless companions. My lord, Thanos, was pleased to offer them as a gift to Mistress Death.”
Mistress Death? The name does not inspire confidence in the wellbeing of your fellow researchers or give you hope of rescue. Gripping the edges of the cot, you beat down the terror curling in the pit of your stomach. “Then why keep me alive?”
“You are the first among your pitiful race to show no fear. My lord, Thanos, was indeed correct. Midgardians may not be as easy to subdue as we have been promised. You will follow me.” Glaive turns and paces from the room without waiting for a response. You rise and follow him out the door.
Your mind searches for logical escape routes as you proceed down an elaborate hallway. You still can’t ascertain where you are. The strange being in front of you makes you worry that the palace he is leading you through may not be on Earth. Whether it is or not, you don’t like your odds of making it alone. If this alien has truly been killing your research partners, it can’t be under the watch of any government. You’ll need to find the others before you escape.
“Do you think to run, insignificant wretch?” Corvus’s grating voice breaks into your thoughts. He doesn’t even look back, but his posture warns you he is ready for pursuit. “Please do. I would enjoy ripping your flesh apart for my master. Thanos only keeps you to test an absurd failure of an Asgardian prince.”
Glaive continues walking, a grunt letting you know his disappointment at your choice to continue following him in silence. Again, you remind yourself not to show fear. The hooded man pauses, outside a large doorway. “Loki wishes to subdue an entire planet. Your companions made it seem pathetically simple, but Thanos believes you are different. Let us see how the fallen prince handles a Midgardian with little fear.” Armored fingers grip your arm roughly and drag you through the doors.
The room is richly ornamented with dark woods and plush furniture in deep hues of crimson. Soft lighting gives it a shadowy, seductive feel. Massive windows with no drapes circle half of the room. A lonely planet surrounded by a dark void provides beautiful scenery and confirmation that you are far from Earth.
“Corvus Glaive.” The voice that says the foul name is resonant, entitled, and dripping with irritation. “I grow tired of waiting.” A tall man rises from a throne-like chair facing the windows. Hair black as the starless sky outside cascades over his broad, leather-clad shoulders. When he turns you are startled by how arrestingly beautiful his pale face is, even with ill-concealed loathing etched on his features.
“Were it up to me you would be waiting eternally. I would see you chained to the surface of a forgotten planet to bake in the heat of an expanding star.” Corvus’s lip curls in a sneer. “You are lucky my lord finds purpose in your misplaced idea of conquest.”
Loki strides forward, his boots clicking against the marble floor. His head rises as he looks down at Corvus imperiously. “I will take Midgard. Thanos will receive his tribute of corpses. In the rubble of their pitiful planet, humanity will find me a benevolent God. I shall give them the subjugation they crave.”
“Then it should be little effort for you to make this girl your willing slave. Thanos wishes to see you to subdue one with spirit.”
The knife-like tips of Corvus’s finger armor slice fine lines on your arm as he shoves you into the tall man’s chest. You resist, but Loki’s arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling your face into his chest plate and preventing escape.
Remembering your self-defense class, you grind your heal into his boot and bite the exposed flesh at his neck, trying to get loose. He only laughs. “Such a delicate little thing you are… I want to break you.”
“You’d best, princeling,” Corvus warns from the door. “Thanos does not reward failure.” When the hooded alien exits the prince opens his arms, releasing you from his grasp. You take several steps back and watch him suspiciously.
“I am Loki of Asgard.” He smiles at you indulgently. “An impressive display. Thanos will assign greater worth to my rule if that cretin deems you difficult. Still, I don’t condone insolence.” He steps closer taking your chin between his elegantly long fingers. “Kneel,” he whispers.
His green eyes glitter in the room’s glow. It’d be easy lose yourself in eyes like those if you didn’t have an intense hatred for the man in front of you. He is your captor. You’ve been saved from death only to spend the rest of your life a slave to a mass-murdering megalomaniac. Someone else might have been thankful. You’ve always been a bit stubborn.
“No.” You brace yourself for the expected blow to come across your face. Instead your captor lowers his hand and narrows his gaze, tilting his head slightly as if you’ve puzzled him.
“Perhaps you did not understand, Midgardian. I am your king. Do not defy me.”
“I understand insanity just fine.” You back up knowing full well he will follow. “You have lost your fucking mind if you think I’m playing servant to a psychopath.”
Anger flares in his eyes as he advances. Within seconds you to bump into a decorative table gracing the wall. You grab blindly behind you until your hands wrap around a glass vase you noticed earlier. The heavy piece comes down upon Loki’s head. When he crumples you sprint for the door.
You turn to make sure Loki isn’t following and your body slams into his chest. He spins you hard and yanks your arms against your back, gripping firmly at your elbows. Someone else grabs your feet, hauling you off the ground. Your mind races. How did he get in front of you? Where did the other person come from?
Struggle as you might, there is no escaping. You are hauled across the room to one of the oversized tables. There is a clatter as something is pushed off the surface, then you are pressed into the wood, your arms and legs spread wide. Looking up you see you are bound by not two, but four men. All are identical to the one you originally ran from.
“You will pay for that.” The real Loki comes into view. A hand is rests against his head, checking where you hit him. His promise is what finally makes you give way to panic. You thrash against the strong hands holding you as the prince calmly hovers over the table. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open as you anticipate the punishment you are about to receive with dread. Your chest heaves. Your heart races. You promise yourself you will not give him the satisfaction of begging.
The shock that runs through you when his lips meet yours is undeniable. His mouth is insistent, his tongue probing until your lips relent and slide open. A cool hand traces along your face as he deepens the kiss. He tastes like tears and smells like crisp wind on a winter day. Almost against your will, you raise your head towards his, hungrily. That’s when he breaks the kiss. Confusion causes your eyes to flutter open and you find him staring into your face with a smile.
“Oh, how wonderful it is see the pride and arrogance leave your eyes. Not so bold now I have you in this position, are you precious?” His hands run teasingly over your cotton tee-shirt, causing you to twist under the tight grip of his duplicates. “It has changed now, has it not? Tell me; does your desire overrun your hatred and fear for me? Shall we find out?”
Cool air assaults your body, letting you know that you are no longer clothed. The doubles at your wrists and ankles hold you fast. You have no chance to protect yourself. Loki moves down your body, blowing a cool stream of air across your nipple. The pink bud tightens painfully. When he pinches it, you feel wetness dripping between your legs. The dark prince smiles, stalking around the table to get a better look at your naked form.
“Lovely. I’ve barely touched you and look how willingly your body complies. Submission really is your natural state.”
Never before have you felt so exposed. You bristle, irritated that a man you want to hate has to do so little to elicit this reaction. “Fuck you,” you spit at him, turning your head to the side so he can’t see the frustrated tears pooling in your eyes.
“Yes, darling, fuck me,” you hear him murmur. Your legs tense as you feel him crawl up on the table between your spread limbs. You feel your nether lips delicately separated by his fingers just before his tongue glides up your cunt and circles your clit. Your whole body bucks upward, but firm hands ensure you don’t move as he repeats the motion over and over, painfully slowly.
You close your eyes against the waves of sensation crashing over you. A whimper escapes your lips, drawing a soft laugh from Loki. The prince rises from between your legs, but you refuse to turn your head. It’s becoming harder to control your breath. You find yourself panting by the time he replaces his tongue with two long fingers. A slowly circling thumb presses against your clit offering torturous pleasure with no promise of release.
“I told you there would be consequences for your defiance. Thanos’ brute strength will win me my rightful throne, however, I have my own ways of earning allies. Tell me darling, do you like my tongue lathing against that sweet cunt of yours?”
You bite your lip, unwilling to admit just how much you are enjoying Loki’s attentions. The silence earns you a sharp slap against your clit. You jerk at the pain.
“Look at me!” The anger in his voice makes you respond swiftly, turning your head and opening your eyes to see him hovering above you. You feel an intense urge to brush your hands along his glorious jawline and your fingers clench involuntarily in their living shackles.
“I warned you before not to defy me. Your king asked a question. You would do well to answer.”
“Yes,” you whimper.
“Yes, what,” he presses and you see his hand raise to for another smack.
“Yes, my king, I love the feel of your tongue on my cunt.” You can feel the blush rising on your skin at the admission.
“My, but you are glorious.” Loki removes his fingers, leaving you aching at the loss. He presses a digit into your mouth. "Suck your lust from my fingers, little one. Savour what a whore tastes like." He watches closely as you dutifully suckle at each of his fingers. When you are finished he casually fondles your breasts,
“Do you wish you had kneeled before me,” He asks, rolling a nipple between his fingers. “Now that you are dripping with need, have you reconsidered letting me rule you?” Leaning close, the prince drags his hot tongue around the curve of your ear. “Held captive and spread so prettily before me, do you wish to be ravaged by your king?”
“Yes,” you gasp, unable to help yourself. His clothes vanish and you feel his length pressed against your leg.
One hand braces on the table beside your head while he grasps himself with the other. ”Do you understand what I ask of you,” he demands, his hard cock teasing your wet folds as he coats himself in your moisture. “To witness your mortal being trembling beneath me. To feel me within you, quivering. I want you to scream and you shall do so. Believe me, I won’t make this easy for you. Not. At. All.”
Your lust-clouded mind no longer seeks escape. All you want is for this man, your king, to drive into you with that impressive cock. You bring your hips up as far as your restraints allow, but he pulls back. “Please,” you moan in frustration.
“Beg,” he responds.
“My king,” you plead, “claim your willing servant. I need you inside me. Ravish my body. Use it to slake your lust.”
His cock slams inside you in one swift thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. Unwilling to give you time to adjust to his girth, he starts a punishing pace. Your whole body spasms against him. Tears of pleasure and pain drip from your eyes.
“Take me deeper, my Midgardian whore.”
With some surprise you find the pressure on your ankles has released. You comply, raising your legs to twine them behind your king’s back. The shift in position causes his every stroke to hit a sweet spot deep inside you. You shudder and cry out wordlessly.
“Again.” He removes your wrists from his servant’s grip only to guide them above your head and shackle them with his long fingers. “Scream for me again.”
The cry that rips from your lips is unlike any noise you have made before. The intensity with which Loki assaults your body pushes you towards insanity. His pace is relentless, his thrusts punishing, his domination of you complete. You exist only to please your king and when he finally tells you to come you clench around his cock, milking his climax from him.
Loki kisses you once more, leaving you weak and trembling on the table as he rises. He pulls you down and guides you to stand shakily before him. He is fully clothed while you remain naked. When you move to cloak yourself with your hands he grabs them and brings them to your side. One look into his eyes tells you it would be unwise to cover yourself again.
The door behind Loki opens allowing Corvus Glaive and a group of soldiers to enter. Your body flushes at the awareness of your state of undress. As stream of Loki’s seed drips down your thigh your head drops in shame.
"Oh, darling,” Loki admonishes, moving behind you, “Do not lower your head. Hold it up high so that everyone can see who you belong to."
“Yes, my king.” You find yourself looking into the infuriated face of Corvus Glaive as Loki strokes your shoulders.
“A poor attempt to discredit me Corvus,” he says, casually running his hands over your skin. “I have told Thanos, this is their natural state. Even the most spirited Midgardian desires subjugation.”
Corvus grinds his teeth and spins on his heel. “This isn’t over, upstart prince,” he calls over the militaristic thudding of the soldier’s boots as they follow behind him. With a wave of his hand, Loki closes the door.
“Oh no, this is far from over,” he whispers in your ear, scooping you into his strong arms and carrying you over to the bed. “In fact, I believe we are only just beginning.”
