The Traitor's Legacy

Chapter II

He had finished with her; Ayeka was down on the floor, crippled by pain and despair of being stripped to a play toy. She sobbed privately to herself; she couldn’t disguise her despair though she did try. Zetkral pulled his pants back up and straightened his clothes, maintaining the strength of his character. Seventy years ago when the authority of jurai was given to him by his masters, did he use that authority to transform jurai to a labour camp for the alien’s purposes. Whilst that objective was achieved he was allowed to self indulge himself. The entities had stripped the royal line of its powers, another day and Zetkral wouldn’t had dreamed of treating Jurai’s princess this way but the royal line were just shades of its dimmed glory. He kept the Miasaki household under isolation, sent to specific prison camps to keep an eye on them. They no longer had any use really so Zetkral thought would be best for them if they took part in labour and other things.

He remembered Ayeka back than but it wasn’t till the second week as viceroy did he realise he was missing a wonderful opportunity. He called Ayeka to his office; the princess was cleaned up for the ‘meeting’

When she first came to him, he was nervous to a point, he had seen the princess once or twice before yet he was new at the time, only three women did had he bring to his office till then. He tried to make Ayeka comfortable at first but she was hostile, very hostile and he wanted her love at that point, he wanted the night memorable.

‘I will not undress for you!”

“Ah, no, you will have to” Zetkral had pointed her to a screen of his computer, and from it came an official labour-requisition form addressed to Misaki Jurai, Zetkral remembered well how ayeka read those words, her spirit had eft her eyes with grim emptiness.

“You can’t!” she pleaded “She’s not the same anymore, her heart…its ill enough as it is!”

Zetkral never forced Ayeka to yield at that point, he went one step further, he showed the former princess another requisation letter but to Sasami – to the Penal Camp in the artic. Ayeka was disturbed at that point, it was unthinkable to her, the idea that Zetkral would deport sasami to a prison centre that housed child rapists was, well it was enough to make Ayea yield and strip. Zetkral then took and mated her. It wasn’t quite wonderful to him was the first experince but it was still something.

He considered revoking the transfer but kept it on hold instead, and because he was new at this then and had some residual feelings of guilt still in his system, he wrote new orders for her that allowed her a year’s entr privillages (with him) to the swimming pool, to see the noadic cluster and see the classic and modern arts of Jurain culture before the alien years came into place. In the end she gave him the most rudimentary of thanks for these things, and did not take the trouble of concealing from him the shudder that ran through as she was dressing to leave at the end of it all. It was thaat moment which offended him, he never cancelled the self made requisation notes, instead he passed them through and waited to hear of Ayeka’s reaction when she learnt two of her most dearest things were taken from her. He should thank her in a way, her disgust at his gesture toughned him, angered him into a bolder man. He ad ayeka dragged into the office many months later with her requisation saying she was attached to Zetkral on a ‘permeant’ basis. He didn’t even try to ask her nicely to undress herself, no more signed threats via electronic text. At that time he realised his full authority as viceroy, he could do anything, onto anyone and when he met Ayeka he dragged her to bed. He ripped the clothes, groped the flesh, licked the bits that pleasured him and forced himself onto her. His bed rocked and her body moved to what was appealing to him. Zetkral never sstoped otr lessened his assault on her, when he was finished he would come back soon after and do her from another postion. He quickly loved it, ayeka could no longer offend him, she couldn’t pretend that he would simply pass. Sevety years on he made himself a brutal reality to her, one that made her constantly fearful. It was for the best, was how zetkral felt, he wanted Ayeka, craved her and knew ultimately she would gradually make her body uncomfortable to him, lie out the sensations that Zetkral wanted to give in the early days. Now espacilly he found there was nothing fake coming from Ayeka when she was raped, she was powerfless, her body was in his hands, the absoulete of control over the princess is what he got in the end. Sometimes ayeka would be dressed so beautiful that in rare occasions he would be careful with the dress, but more often then not, he would hurt her, make her small and scared and get in turn the pleasure. He would never grow tired, he wanted more and more out of her. When he brought people hwho he requested, he had no hesitation in striping them gently before Ayeka and make love, showing how much more they meant to her. Ayeka wasn’t a princess now but a bitch on all fours and he was the one who gave the fuck.

It was later in the noon when Ayeka had picked herself up from the floor and walked to the couch where she was taught to just sit and do nothing that he was informed by his security that he had a visitor, visitors weren’t rare because they were the ones he summoned but one that came to him on their own accord was something else. The figure was a wandering ghost, someone from his past he could not identify, he did not know her but looking at her, a jurain of grey hair but of teenage youth and radiant beauty that showed on her slender legs showed she wanted to talk, plea with him. And who was he to turn down such a request? He activated his own security field just in cae. It was a reasonable precaution for a man in his postion to take.

Whilst beautfiul from the camera, close up he could see the details of flaw a bit mor. Little lines laid around the corners of her eyes, the dies of her miouth, the hair appered to have lost its colour naturally rather then some form of dye. Still she was of slender frame and her pinkish eyes made him compare him to someone he could not remember but felt was familir.

“Speak girl” Whilst she was beautiful, he would not allow himself to be overwhelmed by it.

“Zetkral” Despite being aware of who she was talking to, her voice was calm, neutral. “You’ve done well for yourself” She gestured broadly, taking in the paneled office, the riverview, the array of computer equipment, the wealth of national artistic treaures all about him. He seemed pleased by her gesture, respecting him as if they were old friends who never really departed from each other.

“Thank you, Miss”

“Amsasi. I wrote a letter to you my lord, did you get it?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t recall” Zetkral never read his mail, never. It was always full of angry screeds, execrations, threats and the like..

“It was a request for assistance. A plea for my sister”

Zetkral realised he made a terrible mistake, he had let in a petitioner, not a whore!

But she already pulled out her documents, unfolding papers in front of him “I have a son” She said, her voice and body trembled, pleading with him before he could have a chance to say anything. He knew what the woman would offer for payment, he didn’t want a slave or any form of realtionship. He had ayeka, the one who he ravaged to tell himself just how far jurai’s monarchy has fallen. He didn’t want some sentimental meeting with a woman or anyone, he had no desire to be caught in jurain entanglements, those nasty littlesnarls of dependency and whatnot, that any sort true personal transaction involved. Yet no matter how hard he tried to get away such moments he still found himself being caught up in it from time to time. People who needed favours, people who try to be his friends, people who claimed they loved him. He had no friends, no lovers, no one loved him. He only had ayeka and that was satisfactory to him. Yet looking at the woman and seeing her eyes he couldn’t help but think to be merciful, just this once. Give her what she wants and send her out, that was his intent, he didn’t need her, not one so willing anyway. She couldn’t satisfy him, only ayeka could truly do that.

However she was walking straight to him, he saw it and told her to stop.

Too late.

Shje cried a little gasp as her body went up in the air and crahed down with a thump, the reflection given was immense. There she pulled herself instantly into a small ball, face down in huddled sobbing heap, her forehead grinding into the anicent jurain carpet. He never seen anyone hit the field before, he felt dismay at the sight of a woman going into hysterics, her whole body jerking convulsively, her breath coming in wild gulping gasps. That was annoying; annoying and yet somehow sad, too. That she should suffer so. He wondered what to do, turning off his field was the first thing to do which he did. He knelt down to Amsasi, her skin burned his hand, the contact with the field was indeed painful to her, he tried to stroke her, resurface some sympathy for her just this once.

“look there’s no need. I’ll get your son back I promise”

Moans came from her. This was almost like a seizure. He knew that he should send for help.

Amsasi was trying to say something. Zetkral couldn’t make out the words and leaned closer still. Her long arms were splayed out wide, the left hand drumming in torment on the floor, the other clutching at the air with quivering fingers. Then, suddenly, she turning, rolled over to face him, jerking and twitching no longer, and there was a ceramic knife in that outstretched hand, arriving as if by magic, pulled out somehow from her clothing, hidden somehow from security but no matter how it was, Zetkral wondered how he got himself into this postion and he knew full well. He let slip his kindness. Utterly calm and poised, Amsasi brought the knife in a swift single strike, it ripped into his organs, blood spewed and his body fell sick and heavy. He grunted and placed his hands where his lower abdomen was, he was dying quick and his blood had already soaked most of the floor. It was the shock that was the pain, the shock of how quick his body was becoming cold, how quick his life was coming to an end. Amsasi stood tall to glare at him “I am not Amsasi but I am here for my sister”

Sister? In his dying thoughts Zetkral realised who it was, the little sister of Ayeka, the girl with blue ponytails and a dreamlike smile, the girl he sent to grow up in a camp of serial predators had now returned to him, transformed into the unforgiving. He had turned Ayeka to a pet and Sasami to a monster, his blood was everywhere, his enemies were everywhere and he realised at last that this was the legacy of a traitor like himself.

The End.


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AN: if the spelling may look poor in some areas its because spell check had stopped working in the latter part of the story and even when I copied it to another word document, the mistakes don’t show. I proof read it so hopefully some mistakes will be gone. Hopefully.

That’s it really, thanks for reading.