She won’t give up yet

Lux has no way to count how long her ordeal goes on. The number of mites – whether some have come back for another go – she has no idea. She’s been slapped, shoved, choked, twisted into one painful position after another, and all the while, every nerve in her body remains afire with pleasure. Only her fatigue numbs that now, bone-deep as it is. Weak gasps and groans are the only sounds to come from her.

The awareness that it’s over – for the moment – creeps up on her exhausted mind. She can barely lift her head, and she can barely see a thing anyway, with the tears and cum that have coated her eyelashes. And the smell— the taste—

But there’s no sign of movement around her. The mites have finally left her alone. Heaped in a corner of their camp, bound with ropes or webs, she’s too tired to figure out which. She lies still, taking in shallow, shaky breaths.

How long has it been since she was first captured? It might have been days and days, in the reckoning of a world where such things exist. It might only have been a few hours. It doesn’t matter to the mites; it’s not even clear if they’ll remember to feed her.

Her whole body aches, chafed and bruised from what seems like an eternity of ****. Her belly feels heavy, her womb and stomach both pumped full. She doesn’t know if it’s even possible for her to get pregnant with a mite – knowing her luck, probably a whole litter of them. Assuming she survives this treatment long enough to find out…

The thoughts thud dully into her over-taxed mind. They’re stupid, weak little creatures. The lowest of the low, as Urko said. But if all that is true – what would that make her?

The fires of her defiance burn low. But they burn. She isn’t prepared to give up just yet. The ****, the poison, feels like it’s finally fading from her. She has no time to waste – if only she can find a way to free herself…

“Lux?”

A voice. Tiny, hesitant, on the edge of hearing. Lux groans an answer.

“Lux! Lux, here!” A tiny pressure on her shoulder. She can just make out the shape of Minn landing on her, struggling with both arms to hold something shiny and metal. “I brought this! I got it. Here.”

“Minn…” Lux struggles to get the sound out. Her throat feels rancid. “What is…?”

“Their head guy had it,” Minn whispers. “A weapon. You can use it…”

A flicker of hope. Lux blinks until she can make out what Minn has – and the flicker dies back down. That little lance-thing. No good for cutting.

“That won’t…” she mumbles. “Can’t…do anything with that, Minn.”

“What?” Minn’s voice is confused, frightened.

Lux takes a ragged breath. “I need…my hands,” she manages. “You have to— find a way. Minn. Please.”

She feels Minn hop down. Quiet sounds of effort as little hands pull at her bonds. Lux’s heart pounds. If the mites overhear…