Captured by the Yandere Space Pirates

"Let's have sex again"

"That was fun, wasn't it?"

Ila's voice was a sultry blade, her teal eyes gleaming with manic desire as she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, her breath hot against his skin.

Her black hair, loose and cascading, tickled his neck.

Syn's eyes widened, a flicker of fear breaking through his defiance, his body tensing as Ila's hands roamed, her intent clear, her dominance absolute.

"No," he rasped, his voice weak, his body straining against the cuffs, the metal biting deeper into his wrists, drawing thin lines of red marks.

But Ila's smile only grew, her fingers moving to his pants, unfastening them with ruthless efficiency, the fabric tearing under her strength.

She shed her own royal tunic, revealing a black tank top that clung to her muscular curves, her pants following, her bare thighs gleaming in the screen's crimson glow, her body a testament to her power and menace.

"Don't you get it already? You don't get to say no, Syn," she whispered, her voice low, sensual, dripping with danger, her teal eyes boring into his, her smile a cruel promise.

She straddled him fully, her thighs clamping around his hips like a vise, her hands pinning his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh, drawing fresh welts.

With a single, aggressive thrust, she took him, her movements forceful, unyielding, each roll of her hips a declaration of ownership, her body dominating his in a brutal rhythm.

Syn's breath hitched, his body betraying him again, she had done something to him again, his mind screaming against the violation, his heart pounding with shame and rage.

Ila's moans were low, triumphant, her eyes half-lidded with ecstasy, her black hair swaying with each movement, her nails raking his chest, leaving bloody trails that stung in the cool air.

The room echoed with the wet rhythm of their bodies, the throne creaking under their weight, its carved serpentine arms a mocking audience to Ila's relentless claiming.

The holo-screen's gore played on, a grotesque backdrop to her dominance, the shredder's roar a chilling counterpoint to her sharp, ragged breaths.

Her pace quickened, her body shuddering, a primal moan escaping her lips as she reached her climax, her muscles tensing, her teal eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction.

Syn's release followed, forced from him, a wave of pleasure tainted by despair, his body trembling, his chest heaving, his mind a haze of violation and self-loathing, his bound hands clenching into fists, the cuffs cutting deeper.

Ila leaned down, her lips pressing against his in a bruising kiss, her tongue invading, her hands gripping his hair, pulling hard enough to sting, the taste of blood and desperation lingering between them.

She pulled back, her breath ragged, her teal eyes gleaming with possessive adoration, and hugged him tightly, her arms a vise around his torso, her cheek pressed against his, her black hair tickling his bruised skin.

"The shapeshifters you came searching for," she whispered into his ear, her voice a chilling caress, "the ones I take care of… they're right here, Syn."

As she spoke, the wall in front of them flickered, its surface turning transparent, revealing a vast chamber beyond, a sterile prison of white walls and harsh, clinical light.

Hundreds of green-skinned shapeshifters shuffled aimlessly, their tattered white uniforms hanging loosely on their emaciated frames, their white eyes vacant, their movements listless, like ghosts trapped in a nightmare.

Some sat idly, their heads bowed, others lay curled on the cold floor, their bodies thin, their spirits broken—prisoners, caged in a living hell.

Drones patrolled overhead, their red sensors glinting, and monitors lined the walls, displaying vital signs, a cold testament to their captivity.

The shapeshifters couldn't see Syn or Ila in their half naked state, the transparent wall a one-way mirror, but he saw them clearly, their existence a gut-wrenching proof of his mission's truth, walking, breathing, but at a horrific cost.

Ila chuckled, a maniacal sound that echoed in the chamber, her arms still wrapped around him, her breath hot against his ear, her teal eyes glinting with sadistic glee.

She pointed to a shapeshifter with breasts, a female, her green skin dulled by malnutrition, cradling a small, fragile shapeshifter in her arms, rocking it gently, her white eyes empty yet tender, the child's tiny hands clutching her ragged uniform.

"You see them, Syn?" Ila purred, her finger steady, her voice dripping with malice. "Her husband was the one who died on your behalf."

Syn's eyes widened, rage and horror surging through him, his voice a raw snarl as he strained against the cuffs, the metal creaking under his desperation.

"You demon!" he cursed, his heart breaking for the shapeshifter's sacrifice, his chest tight with guilt, his breath ragged with fury.

"Hey, don't curse me," Ila snapped, her smile vanishing, her eyes narrowing to slits, her voice cold and sharp. "He chose it himself. Said to spare his wife and child from the bootcamps where they're trained, and in exchange, he became you."

Her tone was factual, devoid of remorse, her teal eyes gleaming with a chilling clarity that cut deeper than any blade., "And let's be honest, he had everyone convinced."

Syn's breath hitched, fear and disgust twisting in his gut, his mind reeling at the psychopath Ila had become—or perhaps always was, hidden behind her charm, now laid bare in horrifying detail.

He'd never seen this side of her so close, so raw, her cruelty a blade honed to perfection, her beauty a cruel mockery of the girl he'd once thought he loved.

"You see, shapeshifter blood isn't red," she continued, her voice clinical, detached, as if discussing a science experiment. "So he had to drink human blood, fill his veins with it, and I dyed his muscles red to match.

All that hassle, Syn, to convince the world you died." She leaned closer, her teal eyes boring into his, her smile a twisted promise. "Now, do you want his sacrifice to go to waste?"

Syn's heart pounded, his body trembling, his mind a storm of guilt and dread, his chest heaving with panic.

Ila's voice lowered, her tone a velvet threat, each word a noose tightening around his soul.

"Because if you keep avoiding me, Syn, I'll make sure that his wife and her child know who caused their husband's death. And then, I'll ensure she knows who will also be responsible for when her kid dies."

"No, you wouldn't," Syn gasped, his eyes wide, his voice shaking, the weight of her blackmail crushing him, his hands clenching into fists, the cuffs cutting deeper, blood trickling down his wrists.

"Yes, I will, Syn," Ila said, her smile cold, her eyes unyielding, burning with a manic certainty that chilled him to the core. "You know me. Am I lying? Look into my eyes."

She grabbed his face, her fingers bruising his cheeks, forcing him to meet her gaze, her teal irises a vortex of obsession and cruelty, her beauty a cruel mockery of the girl he'd once known.

"I've had enough of your drama. I want us to go back to the glade, to lie there like lovers. It pains me to see you bound and lifeless, Syn. Just a matter of days, and you'll forget this all. It'll become our new normal."

Syn's mind was a whirlwind, overwhelmed by the nightmare his life had become.

All because he'd been stubborn, determined to return to the Kingdom, to find the shapeshifters and expose the King's secrets.

To become a hero even though he didn't have it in him.

He'd found them, yes, but at what cost?

Trapped as Ila's prisoner, reduced to a plaything, a teddy bear with a dick, as she'd so cruelly demonstrated.

He hated himself, cursed his hubris for thinking he could outmaneuver her, for believing he could turn her into his puppet.

Now, he was hers, forced to act as she demanded, to endure her twisted desires. He cursed himself for leaving Vera, Aster, and Pako, for playing hero, for every choice that led to this moment, his heart aching for the freedom he'd lost, the friends he'd betrayed, the shapeshifter who'd died in his place.

"Say, Syn," Ila purred, her voice low, sensual, laced with danger, her eyes glinting like Aster's but devoid of her warmth, her forgiveness, her humanity.

"What did you decide?" She leaned closer, her breath warm against his cheek, her presence a suffocating cage, her teal eyes making Aster's compassion seem ordinary, tame, in comparison to her unhinged ferocity, her dark obsession a force that consumed everything.

hiss~

A sharp hiss broke the tension—the door to the secluded room sliding open, a sound that startled Ila, her body tensing, her eyes narrowing to slits, her lips parting in a rare moment of vulnerability.

"What?" she snapped, her voice sharp with disbelief, her head whipping toward the entrance. Who could enter this sealed chamber, accessible only to her, its locks coded to her biometrics alone, its walls reinforced to keep out the world?

Syn couldn't see the figure, the throne's high, serpentine back blocking his view, but he saw Ila's shock, her teal eyes widening, her composure fracturing.

She rose from his lap, adjusting her pants with a swift, tugging motion, her boots clicking as she strode toward the intruder, her posture radiating fury.

"Who the fuck are you?" she demanded, her voice a barrage of rage and confusion. "What are you doing here?" Her questions came relentless, each word a lash, her hand hovering near the holster at her hip.

The figure didn't answer.

Syn strained to see, his heart pounding, a flicker of hope piercing his despair despite the cuffs binding him, his wrists raw and bleeding.

Ila's voice grew sharper, her steps quickening, and then...

bang!