Hate And Heresy

In the dead of night, cool country air kissed the two women as their bodies came together. The open balcony doors displayed their love-making to the dark night sky and the bright moon illuminated them. One pleasurably squirmed while the other had a feast. Insatiable in her assault, Moya held onto Meek's thick t.h.i.g.hs, the strong muscle within them tensing and threatening to squeeze her head off. Meek's breath was heavy and her body wet with sweat. The woman between her legs was too good.

Moya had been patiently waiting for such a meeting. Never too eager. Never too pushy. Finally, the strong black-haired woman had the angry blonde to herself. Moya would not waste the opportunity. She would finally make Meek hers.

Meek grabbed her pillow and felt the end coming. Her body quivered and shook. Their hot connection was almost done, but unfortunately for Moya, it wasn't meant to be. The p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e woke Meek.

"What the f.u.c.k!" Meek cursed, as loudly as her failing energy would allow.

Moya raised her head in panic and reached for a kitchen blade she had left on the bed. With the handle grasped she went in for the kill but Meek was not subdued. A powerful right fist hit Moya in the cheek and she fell onto the bed, n.a.k.e.d and unconscious. Moya had failed again.

Meek stared at the ceiling in her exhaustion. She breathed deep, trying to find her normal self. Her life had nearly left. Meek's body was heavy and her muscles lacked drive. The damned woman had nearly sent her to the other side.

A few minutes passed before Meek found herself and Moya's assault faded. The blonde sat up and looked at the sleeping woman. A shapely specimen of muscle and hot rage, Moya was still firmly grasping the knife. Meek frowned heavily but still let her hand give a squeeze to Moya's beautiful bottom.

"No, no, gods damn it," Meek said to herself. "F.u.c.k.i.n.g bitch. You won't manipulate me."

Freshly bathed and lazily dressed in her usual combination of loose jeans and white tank top, Meek stared at the coffee maker as it began filling the dirty glass pot. A small vibration tingled her left wrist as the monitor bracelet came to life; Moya was awake. It was another half hour before her request to come out of her locked room came. A low tone sounded near the heavy steel door, from the touchscreen on the wall next to it; Moya wanted to come out.

With a groan, Meek walked across the living room of their converted workshop home and stood at the screen. The ten inches of display embedded in the wall showed a dressed Moya standing on the other side of the steel door. She wore blue jeans and a plain shirt like her master, as that was all Meek would provide. With a tap on the touchscreen, the door unlocked and slid open to disappear into the wall with a quiet humming. The red-eyed glare of Moya was as hateful as ever, but commonplace in their home and workplace. With her leather mask and metal slave collar the woman walked over to the kitchen table silently.

"Are we going to talk about what happened last night?" Meek questioned, not having moved from her place. "I give you freedom from your room and that's what I get?"

Moya didn't answer, choosing to be silent and wait for food to be given to her.

"I'm f.u.c.k.i.n.g talking to you, Moya!" Meek yelled, making her way to the other side of the table to see her slave's eyes. "What's the f.u.c.k.i.n.g point in killing us both?"

"Maetodon would have saved me as you died," Moya replied with a cheap radio-like tone, her voice filtered through the speaker of the mask. "My god would accept your sacrifice and give me the strength to remove this stupid collar!"

Meek smirked, which always angered Moya.

"What a pathetic god," Meek said. "Followers that **** and murder in the night. Cowards, all of you. No honor."

"And what would you know of honor, you drunk waste of space?" Moya replied. "Where is the honor in drinking yourself blind, night after night? Where is the honor is spending frivolously on worldly d.e.s.i.r.es? I'm doing the universe a favor by sacrificing you."

Meek could not contain her anger. The calm demeanor of Moya enraged her to no end. She wanted Moya to be far more upset for being enslaved, but she never complained or fought openly. The assault in the night had been the first attempt at freedom Moya had tried, after being made Meek's slave nearly a year ago. With an angry fist Meek hit the table between them and the thin metal gave way, allowing her to break through. A sharp edge of the hole drew blood as Meek retrieved her hand and sat heavily into the chair behind her. Blood slowly ran onto the tabletop as she stared at Moya.

Moya sighed heavily. She was certain the wound wouldn't kill Meek, but it was in the slave's best interest to keep the master alive and well, lest she have her neck choked by the collar. Retrieving a medical kit from the kitchen counter, she began cleaning Meek's cut arm with a pre-packaged medical wipe. Moya had been given a great deal of practice dressing wounds by her master. Meek would often come home from a night out drinking, bloodied by a fight she had gotten into. How she managed to get herself into so much trouble, Moya couldn't understand.

"If you want me to remove that collar, you fight me fair and square," Meek told Moya as bandage was applied. "None of this while-I-sleep bullshit. Beat me in a real fight. Then I won't give a damn what you do to me."

Moya finished dressing the wound without answering. A direct fight with her master was not something Moya held great confidence in winning.

"Shall I make us some breakfast then?" Moya asked. "Since you've done nothing this morning."

"Just eggs and bacon," Meek replied. "We have work today. Meeting at noon."

"More security detail?" Moya questioned, taking her place at the counter to cook their morning meal.

"Yeah, but big-time stuff," Meek said, standing to make herself some coffee. "Some politician is coming to the planet. Wants to rally people into joining the system's government."

"This backwoods world?" Moya replied. "They'd never agree to change their government. Sounds like fuel for a war."

Meek sighed as she poured the black liquid into her somewhat-clean mug. She cursed silently, having forgot to add creamer and sugar first.

"Did you forget to make your coffee correctly?" Moya asked without looking away from her cooking.

"Shut up," Meek replied, sipping uncomfortably to make room. "It's your fault I'm distracted."

"Just go satisfy yourself while I make breakfast," Moya suggested. "Unless you need more time. You didn't endure that long last night."

"Really? Is that really going to be a f.u.c.k.i.n.g subject of ridicule?" Meek questioned, trying hard not to blow her top while mixing a hot beverage. "I'm not hot and bothered. I'm pissed off. I'm disappointed, really. You're supposed to be some fierce warrior from a war-torn planet and yet you laid low for nearly a year and failed to kill me in my sleep."

"Don't be so ready to die, my master," Moya said.

Breakfast went by without more physical violence. Moya ate efficiently and cleanly, wasting no time. Once her plate and her teeth were scrubbed, she had her mask back on and waited on Meek. The blonde had only just finished her food when Moya sat back down at the table.

"Are we going to hire the usual guys for this political detail?" Moya asked.

"We aren't in charge," Meek replied. "We're extras. We'll be reporting to Hennessey Security."

"Oh? But don't they like to boast about being the best there is?"

"Yeah, well, a touchy political situation must have them nervous. They didn't even call. Just sent an email asking us to hop on. Money is good."

Meek washed her plate and fork lazily as she talked. She hated dishes. Moya usually did them without being told. Meek had just placed the plate on the drying rack as a hand grabbed onto her bottom.

"I'm feeling pretty bothered, having failed my sacrifice," Moya said, letting her hands enjoy her master's firm a.s.s. "How do you deal with this? Are you out getting laid when you drink?"

"No, now get your hands off me," Meek replied, gripping the sink rim tightly.

"What kind of master are you?" Moya questioned. "Aren't slave owners supposed to do whatever they want with their property? I promise I won't do anything nefarious. When I want my freedom, I'll duel you for it, like you want."

Meek turned around and gripped Moya's neck. The masked woman let out a small exhale that only served to make her master more bothered.

"You're my slave because you tried to kill me," Meek explained. "And I keep you because you're useful. Stay the f.u.c.k out of my head. I hate you and you hate me. Those are the lines drawn and I don't want them blurring."

The ever-hateful glare of Moya hardened, after her distracted state had let her relax a bit.

"Fine," she replied. "It was just an offer."

The ringing of the phone made Meek let go of the neck she'd like to crush. After rolling out the stiffness, Moya went over to the phone by the door and answered to the speaker.

"Double M services, how may I help you?" Moya said to the phone as the screen displayed the face of the caller.

"Hello, Moya," the secretary woman on the other end greeted her. "I just wanted to call and make sure you and Meek were coming at noon."

"Yes, we'll be there," Moya replied.

"Okay, great," the secretary said. "Mr. Hennessey will go over the details of your involvement when you arrive during the meeting. See you soon."

The phone went dark as the call ended. Moya could feel the tension behind her.

"How long has it been since Hennessey approached you?" she asked. "Two months? And you two haven't spoken since?"

"Yeah," Meek replied. "I wouldn't have taken the job if we didn't need the money."

"We wouldn't need the money if you didn't drink and buy useless things."

The two women stared each other down. Their normal abuse had been amplified by Moya's attempt at Meek's life.

"Well, let's put on something a little more presentable," Moya suggested. "Button-up long sleeves?"

"We don't have to dress up for that pig," Meek replied.

Moya rubbed her forehead in frustration as she walked over to the kitchen. With a heavy thud upon the counter she retrieved a bottle of black alcohol and splashed a shot into two crystal cups.

"Here, let me put it a way you can understand," Moya said, holding out a drink for her master.

Meek accepted the drink and downed it quickly with a satisfied exhale.

"Let's do some work and get paid," Moya said, taking off her mask to drink. "And you let me know if he tries anything with you. Buzz my collar if he does."

"I don't need you looking out for me," Meek said.

"I don't need someone stealing my prey," Moya replied.