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“Hit me.”
The palm of a metal hand roughly nudged the side of your face.
“Harder. Fuck, they need to actually believe this, not think it’s been rehearsed already. Look at my face. Pretend I’m Overlord…Okay, now try again.” You sucked in your breath, closing your eyes as you braced for the impact.
The sharp clap of metal against skin sent your head jolting to the side, vision momentarily blurred as you adjusted your jaw. Not broken. Okay, this you could work with.
“Are you-“
“I’m fine…that was good. Better.” You gave a smile, rubbing out the already reddening mark along your cheek, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be dead anyway if this doesn’t work. Now isn’t the time to hold back, Tarn.”
The leader of the DJD sighed, rolling his helm back. A servo lifted to rub against the side of his mask that covered his face although his act soon turned into a grating scratching sound. Claws began their ritual marking of his face, scarring the mask instead. Frowning, you reached forward to grab his hand, jolting him from his dissociative moment.
“You just got that one. Nickel will have your hands on a slab if you keep this up, Love.”
Tarn’s normally stern optics lowered to rest on the space between you both on your bed, a sense of downcast apprehension in them.
“I know. It’s not Nickel I’m worried about.” Optics focused on you now as they strained more intently as if trying to remember what every cell of your body looked like. As if trying to remember what you’d look like before you died.
“Oh by the blazes Tarn, you’re acting like we’re going to my funeral. It can’t be that bad. It’s a good plan we’ve got. I trust you.”
Rolling his shoulders back, tread giving a click against his inner mechanisms, a hearty laugh sounded past his vocalizer. “You shouldn’t. An organic trusting a Decepticon sounds like the beginning of a horrible and ill fated joke.”
Your frown remained. “Then trust in the plan then. Run it by me again. Megatron asks you, ‘Why haven’t you killed it?’ what do you say?”
Tarn sucked in a vent, engines churning.
“-It’s just too amusing to put out of its misery. It’s always better to drag it out further. It’s the least it deserves after the annoyance it gave me by stowing away on my ship. Look at it. It’s just a little reminder of how pathetic those things are.”
Tarn droned on, sounding more bored than genuinely interested in this conversation. The hall of the lord of the Decepticons seemed endless, yet here was the lot of you, concentrated right before Megatron himself. You knelt before him, Tarn also kneeling on one knee, behind you as you were presented before their leader. Several mechs Tarn had identified to you earlier as Overlord, Sixshot, and Starscream occupied the periphery of the space near to the throne. Well, “throne” was putting it lightly as his seating was composed of the discarded parts of Autobots, welded together in a massive heap of armor that fanned out from Megatron.
You shifted uncomfortably in your current wear which was limited to a revealing chest wrap of an old shawl you used on desert planets and a long strip of fabric that covered between your legs. You cursed mentally at your lapse in judgement at letting Tarn watch your last late night binge of Star Wars with you. Of course he had to draw some ‘inspiration’ from that scene. You shimmied your hip against the thick metal holding the fabric against your hips, hoping to make the fabric cover you better.
You failed rather spectacularly.
Megatron seemed equally unamused by such a display and explanation from Tarn. That was okay. Both of you had prepared for just this.
“Of course they’re pathetic. Just kill it now and be done with this.” Megatron sneered, swiping a clawed hand away from himself as if already tired of this conversation.
“I would, my Lord, but such infractions as a stow away deserves stricter punishment. Something more fitting for such a crime.”
Hesitantly, Megatron narrowed his optics, giving a slow nod for Tarn to continue.
“This thing is a particularly violent one, plenty of spirit contained in such a small frame.” Tarn withdrew his datapad’s stylus pen from a subspace, using it to knock lightly against your back. As if to further his point, you leapt up, yelling as you made to lunge uselessly at him. Using the pen he flicked it down in a way that sent the length of it slamming into your torso, pinning you to the ground by your midsection. You gave a few extra grunts and snarls for good measure as if to drive home his point.
“I’m sure you’re all aware of how organics…reproduce-“
Starscream scoffed, placing a servo over his face in annoyance and possible embarrassment at such a topic that he considered so beneath him. “Tarn. Now where the frag is this going-“
“Somewhere where he has a little fun…” Overlord smirked, mumbling under his breath. Tarn swallowed hard at trying to keep his point going as he jumped back in. Your life was in fact, still on the line.
“You see, this specific species has their own cultural customs concerning this. It’s considered a sacred act between two who are bonded utterly in devotion to each other. It’s such an act that a violation of it is worse than death and the disgrace of a thousand lifetimes. It is entirely crushing in every sense of their social stigmas which are held to high regard.” Reaching forward, Tarn used two digits to pin down each of your arms. He repositioned the stylus between your legs, the side of it shoving against one of your thighs as you kicked out against him.
Tarn’s optics flicked back up to Megatron as he let out a humored laugh. “What better way to break an animal than violate its very being, whatever foolish dogma it believes in? I don’t just plan on killing it, no, my Lord. Such a way is far too easy. I plan on making this pain last for the rest of its days. Perhaps I can even gain some insight here on how to deal with certain traitors who have proved harder to break in the past. Inspiration does come from the most unlikely sources I find.”
The most meager incline of Megatron’s helm signaled his mild interest now. Starscream cringed but stayed silent as even Overlord seemed curious now at what Tarn was willing to do. His arms crossed, hungry optics scanning over every inch of your exposed body, more so in the way a fire was eager to consume all that laid in its path than how a human looked at another with lust.
That look was the first thing to genuinely terrify you so far.
“I can’t imagine such repeated acts hold weight when they become your only source of punishment.” Megatron seemed to shake his helm lightly as if scolding a pupil he had already educated several times before. “Show me. Prove to me that you can make them pay as needed. Perhaps this can serve as a guide for our future infiltrations on organic planets, just another way of so many others to break them.”
You felt sincerely ill at the prospect of that, but if Tarn had come up with this plan so quickly, you were sure other Decepticons had likely been doing the same and worse for millennia on organic planets. At least this was just an act.
“Of course, my Lord.” Tarn assured, focusing his attention back down to you.
The stylus shoved forward despite your screams of protest that now echoed through the hall, legs kicking fervently at Tarn’s hands. You mentally thanked your past self for suggesting the placement of a lubricant barrier on your cunt for this exact stunt, as the stylus’s tip slipped in easily with little resistance. Well, at least for the first few inches.
The thin tip quickly tapered back up into the hefty length of the pen itself which was nearly as thick as your calf. You trashed particularly hard as Tarn reached near your limit with what you could handle as he stopped. Using his wrist, he lazily moved the stylus back and forth, dragging it to the sides as well as he fucked you with the object as if he were simply writing a daily report. You made sure to act up the supposed heresy that this was, wailing as you continued to fight against his digit’s grip.
As if to further humiliate you, he used the tip of a digit’s claw to snag your top, sending it sliding off. Uninhibited, your tits jostled against your repeated strains at escape as you continued kicking at the stylus, but still careful not to harm yourself in the process.
The yelling grew louder. Megatron looked on with a sense of interest at how quickly he had gotten such a visceral reaction. Meanwhile, Tarn just hoped the noise would cease soon and that Overlord wouldn’t try his own hand at meddling with you.
“We should practice first, just in case it does get that far. I want you to be prepared for whatever will be thrown our way.” Tarn had removed his mask, his face contorted in a downcast expression that looked back at you on your bed as you laid down.
“Come and get me then. Make it hurt a little. Or a lot. Whichever works.” You smiled at him reassuringly knowing that expression would be wiped away in seconds in favor of the desperate animalistic guise you now curated.
“And if I draw blood?”
“Do it. It’s one of the only ways to make it look real. Just try to not break any bones, okay?”
Nodding, Tarn retrieved his mask from the sheets, clicking it back in place. Snaring your calf with a clawed servo, Tarn dragged you closer to him as you did your best to lash out, fists banging against paneling, volume increasing to a degree that made you even more glad this room was soundproof.
Paneling clicked open. Tarn closed his optics.
In the safety of this room he knew he could take such a liberty, but in the actual situation, it would be far too much of a risk to do so.
Even mass displaced, Tarn’s sheer size and weight had dwarfed your body, making the struggling seem even that much more futile.
One of his servos whipped across your face, the backhand stinging, yet manageable enough with a few scratches you knew nothing was broken. Backing up, you purposely stumbled allowing him to catch up. The same servo clutched your throat, tightening his grip as he pinned you to the ground. His legs forcing yours apart and setting themselves over yours, keeping them open.
“How pathetic you are, such a waste of space. Do you know why I don’t kill you, little one?”
You let out a muffled grunt as your free hands beat against his arm, pulling at the paneling as if you had the power to tear him apart yourself.
“Because you’re sick! Because you’re too much of a fucking coward to do anything other than toy with me!”
Tarn clicked his glossa against his mouth, using his free servo to shake a finger at you.
“Oh no. It’s only because that’s such an easy way out. You’ve seen what I do to my own kind, such a thing is what I see fit to do upon you. Death is inevitable, but ultimately it’s about how much pain, how much endless agony I can inflict upon you before then. Make no mistake, I’ll kill you one day, but until then, I plan on breaking you as many times as I can before your miserable clump of cells give out so easily.”
“You won’t- you can’t-“
Repositioning his legs, Tarn used his other servo to hoist your legs around his hips. One of his servos ran down your thigh as he rubbed it closer and closer to your groin. “I can and I will. Just beg like all the other times I didn’t listen. Louder. We have guests, Little One.”
“Fuck you! I won’t let you have me! This means nothing-“
“Of course it means nothing, I haven’t started yet.” Paneling clicking back, Tarn grabbed you by your torso, pulling your back up against his chest as he used a single servo’s digits to hold your legs apart on your upper thighs. He splayed you open for the rest of the room to see, his other servo holding your chest up as he used this opportunity to pull at your tits. Occasionally his claws would grip your chest tensely, leaving scratches in his wake.
“Do you think about your mate, your past lover who has forsaken you, when you breed with me? I can’t imagine I feel anything like them, but still, you take me just the same.” Tarn rambled on, words getting more of a reaction out of this desperate facade you had for yourself, especially as you felt him begin to rub his spike against your cunt.
“No, not again, please just not before the rest of them! I can’t-“ you let a strangled sob catch in your throat as you tried to hide your face away from him. His mask just pushed closer, invading even your most precious and meager space you had left.
“You can and you will. So long as your body functions, it belongs to me.”
As he snarled that, he thrusted into you for the first time, shoving past the first few inches in an uncomfortable strain. You gasped, throwing your head back as your legs shook, futility trapped.
“How does it feel to have a Decepticon take you? To be stripped away from your disgusting little partner only to come on a Cybertronian’s spike, again and again?”
His words stirred something in you as this act was certainly just that, although you decided to embrace your position a little more than you expected. You could feel your body produce enough fluid for his entry, some of that surely not being from the lubricant you had applied earlier. His hand shifted to hold a single thigh as he spread you open more, the abhorrent display of your lips being parted tightly by his spike catching the optics of all those in the room. His arm across your front kept you from moving your hands up to cover your face as the first tears streamed past your eyes. Good, the optical drops are working as intended too.
“S-stop this! It’s- isn’t it enough that you’ve taken me, just- don’t, please don’t show them…” You heaved a sob, earning a low pur of Tarn’s engines. It seemed that you weren’t the only one now enjoying this, especially as his spike thrusted up into you with a renewed vigor as you begged.
“You’re just such a miserable little excuse for a being. A travesty like you is only fit to be a pet for a superior species. Now tell me: who do you belong to, whore? Don’t you like it when I call you that? It’s a word from your very own vernacular I find quite fitting for how you wrap yourself around me. You take me like you want it.”
With his last two words Tarn let you go, shoving you off of him as you screamed, falling down on your frontside in a heap. The sting of dozens of scratches across your chest and aching tits as well as several on your face only seemed to add to your body’s sensitivity. You let out a genuine groan at how his spike had been torn from your cunt, the pain of the sudden jostle all too real. Still, even that made you want to give a more satisfied vocalization, but you resisted. Such sounds would do no good to convince them you were actively hating every moment of this, if anything convincing them of the opposite.
You instead feigned a hefty, wailing sob, burying your hands in your face, curling up in a heap on the ground. Megatron quirked a brow up in approval at how easily Tarn had made you fold from a fighting demon to a weak, sniveling creature on the floor.
“Very good, Tarn.”
“Thank you, my Lord.” Tarn bowed, clicking his paneling back in pace even as his aching spike craved more. Down on a knee again, he gave his incline of devotion, completely ignoring your huddled form. He so desperately wanted to look your way, make sure he hadn’t drawn too much blood or genuinely hurt you, but he needed to keep the act up.
“Did I tell you to stop? If anything I don’t think you’ve gone far enough.” His helm snapped up as Megatron continued, optics widening. “Overlord, if you will: aid Tarn in breaking in his pet. Perhaps he needs a push to go further. Since it is his, do not kill it, make it last a little longer. I think it needs to be scolded for speaking as it did earlier in my presence.”
Tarn swallowed, venomous glare being shot at Overlord who now strode forward. The Phase Sixer mass shifted to be just over Tarn’s own size, stopping to stand before your form still laying on your side. Leaning up, your sobs felt suddenly too real as you heard Tarn walk over to you as he also knew how dangerous this was with Overlord of all mechs involved.
Snatching your jaw with a servo, Overlord squeezed down hard, prompting you to give a pained vocalization as your mouth instinctively opened.
“There’s this one thing I’ve wanted to try. I’m sure you’ll help me, right?” Overlord gave a crass laugh, undoing his modesty paneling to reveal his own fully pressurized spike. Both of your hands grasped on his wrist that held your face, eyes widening.
The smallest moment of comfort came when Tarn grabbed your shoulder with his own servo, the other moving to run through your hair and grip the top of your head as Overlord continued to hold your jaw.
Overlord scowled. “Thanks for the help, but I really don’t think it’s necessary.”
“Whatever punishment you give it, I will be a factor.” Tarn snapped, more in a possessive, competitive way than of the concern you knew he likely had over Overlord’s handling of you.
“Suit yourself. Hold ‘em steady.” Overlord mused. His servo used a thumb to pull your mouth open further as he aligned his spike to your lips. Tarn’s grip on your head firmed as he knew what he planned now.
The spike was nearly too large in width to fit in your mouth even with mass displacement. Its detailed ridges caught the edges of your lips, biolights sliding over your tongue as his length was coated in a heavy dose of saliva.
A choking sounded as Tarn’s other servo jolted up to feel your throat and make sure Overlord wasn’t being too immensely rough. The size hurt, giving a painful stretch as tears were brought to your eyes.
Taking your hands from Overlord’s wrist, Tarn gathered them in a servo and positioned your arms behind your back. In a way it made the act seem even more violating and forced, yet you appreciated the way one of his digits stretched out so you could get a meager grasp on it for a sliver of comfort in this situation.
Overlord began to speed up, his own boisterous laughing growing louder as he swiped up a few tears with a thumb. He licked the digit as if it held drops of high grade engex.
After a period of time that made you sure you were either going to pass out or have your throat torn, Overlord let forth a deeper moan, pulling out suddenly. Within an instant, warm transfluid shot over your face and chest, the tip of his spike rubbing the fluid around for good measure as if to make sure most of your face was unmistakably covered in it. Charming.
Dragging you back up and out of Tarn’s own grasp, Overlord gave a quick, harsh bite with his sharpened dentae against your shoulder. You screamed in earnest at that, partially convinced Overlord had just bitten your shoulder clean off. Instead, a rough glossa swept up the blood from the puncture wounds getting a curious taste.
His mouth withdrew, licking his lips as his optics continued to gaze at you hungrily, even as he let go. Tarn snared this opportunity to grab you by the opposite shoulder that hadn’t been bitten and pull you away.
Using the back of his servo to wipe his lips, Overlord smiled at Tarn casually as if discussing an attempt to borrow his pen.
“You know…I like how it squirms. I think I might need to steal it away from you sometime, Tarn.”
Your hand reached up to your injured shoulder to see how bad the injury was. It was fairly gnarled, certainly needing stitches, but not nearly bad as you initially thought. You kept up the sob show although you weren’t exactly convinced these were all fake sounds as your entire face and throat ached from Overlord’s brutal handling.
A shuddering vent sounded from Tarn as he took your own jaw with one of his servos now, earning a pained whimper from you. Your head leaned back to look up at Tarn who stood just behind you, pressing your back to his chest.
“Do you taste Overlord?”
It in fact still lingered, the scent mildly sulfuric, mixed with burned gasoline and charred metal. You tried to nod, managing a meager reply. “Yes…”
“Open up.” He demanded, using his other servo to prop open his mask enough that the slit was big enough to accommodate your view of his mouth. You did so, curious to what he planned. Surely he wasn’t about to kiss you in front of this assembly. That would be certain death.
No, of course he had something far more vile, something far more fitting for this situation planned. He instead shifted his lips, spitting a drip of oral lubricant directly onto your face. It smacked against the edge of your lip, half of it sliding past your opened mouth as you felt it pool along your cheek. You drifted your tongue over to lick up its contents.
“Do you taste Overlord still?” Tarn asked, tone even and analytical as if he hadn’t just done something that even some of the more experimental organics would still cringe at.
“No.“ You pondered his taste. Remnants of the sweet high grade he had recently finished off before attending this meet mingled with a familiar raw taste of copper akin to one’s own blood. It was strangely consistent yet far more welcome than whatever Overlord had forced down your throat. “I taste you…Master.”
That wicked grin flicked back onto Tarn as he let your face go, giving a swift smack to your cheek. “Good. Now tell me how much you want me.”
You let out a heaving cry, squirming as one of his arms wrapped across your chest to keep you in place. “As much as- as a damn curse! You’re the bane of my very existence, far worse than any other of your kind could treat me! DEATH WOULD BE A RELEASE FROM YOUR EVERY TORTURE OF EACH DAY!”
You screamed out the last bit with every ounce of your very acting ability. Tarn held you tighter as if to assure you it had worked. Indeed you seemed to agree with him as for the first time, you saw Megatron give a satisfactory smile.
It had taken hours to stitch everything up.
You were thankful you didn’t have to do that yourself at least as even Nickel took pity on you, sewing up your shoulder wound none too gently, but doing a good job nonetheless.
Now, you laid in bed, freshly cleaned and having brushed your teeth and scrubbed your mouth out over a dozen times in an attempt to get rid of Overlord’s scent. Tarn laid next to you, propped up on his side by an arm, a servo petting carefully over your cheek as if afraid to break skin as if he hadn’t already caused dozens of scratches on you already.
“Are you sure you’re-“
“Stop asking, Tarn. I’ll be sore for a while and- it was…unexpected, but I’m fine. The Black Block Consortia did far worse to me. You know that. Overlord was child’s play. He’s used to torturing mechs, not organics.”
“Let us thank the Tarnian Miner that he doesn’t know more of such things.” Tarn whispered in a hushed tone as he leaned forward, giving a kiss to your forehead where a scratch from one of his claws had streaked across your skin. “If I would have known Overlord was going to be there I would have done something else. Framed your demise, feigned your existence with some other random organic. They’re easy enough to come by.”
You shook your head, thinking of some poor sap being slaughtered in your place. “Absolutely not. We did the best we could and it’s good enough that Megatron believed it. We’ll just have to be more careful when we go to trade planets for fuel stops.” A twinkle in your eye caused Tarn to sit up warily as he heard your next words. “I think we deserve a little celebration, don’t you.”
Curious to what you had planned, Tarn remained seated and silent as you got up and ran into your wardrobe closet, the door shutting with a slam.
Moments later, you emerged wearing a near exact replica costume of Leia’s as you had shoddily constructed earlier for the meeting.
“You…you didn’t…” Tarn’s unmasked face held your favorite expression you had seen on him in awhile. You laughed, swaying back and forth before giving a scandalous spin so he could have a full view.
“I did. I figured whatever I wore would get damaged anyway so I saved my suit of better craftsmanship for a later date…assuming we made it out alive. We’ll have to be a little more delicate tonight than usual because of my shoulder, but…What do you think?”
It was an inane question.
Of course he had fantasized about taking you in that exact clothing (or lack thereof), the mighty Decepticon taking his own little organic pet purely for the sake of it. His mouth opened as he already imagined how your legs would part from under that slim fabric, leaving only the smallest strip to be nudged away. He didn’t ever wish to take the costume off, instead savoring the look of your writhing skin bump against the chains looping off of your clothes, chest hardly contained in the metal bralette you wore. He often dreamt about taking you in the captain’s chair, being right over you and having you look at him for every second of it, or even fucking you in front of a mirror, the sharp sound of chains clanging against his own paneling simply urging him on.
“So…” You paused, mildly unsure now as you were half convinced you just broke him right there and then. “How do you like it…Master?”
Something clicked with that word as Tarn’s optics blinked out then back again. He worked up enough awareness to shift to sitting on the edge of the bed, an eager smile now on him.
“It’s perfect. Come here and let me see it a little closer.”
You obeyed, walking forward to sling your legs around his hips straddling him as you sat down with an over exaggerated bounce as if hinting at how you wanted to have him. He smirked at that.
“Does my little pet want a treat for behaving so well today?” A servo moved to grip your hips, his other servo grasping your chain attached to your throat manacle. “Tell me how bad you want it. And do be specific in telling how exactly you want it.”
“I want it here,” you murmured, moving a hand to press over the slim fabric covering your sex. “Can I please have you, My Lord? I’ll make it feel so good for you.” You leaned in to give a sensuous roll of your spine and hips towards Tarn’s chest and groin.
“I know you will,” Tarn closed his optics, ghosting his lips over your still bandaged shoulder as if in a continual apology. “I’ll savor every second of it.”
At last as he had dreamed of for so long, he shifted a servo to take your skirt fabric and sling it over your hip as his own plating retracted.
It was going to be a long night for the two of you, yet neither of you had any objections to that.