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The lift descending

Date: 10/2/2014, Categories: Love Stories, Author: Alexandra_A, Rating: 9, Source: LushStories

suddenly appeared naked and ripe for suckling. She absently tweaked it, before wiping her tears away and clutching at her temples. Sudden resignation softened her features and, as her thoughts turned inwards, she closed her eyes and smiled. Her beauty was irrefutable; her innocence and integrity were palpable. Unexpected thoughts assailed me. I could fight for a woman such as she. I could die for her. For the first time in my short existence, I knew doubt and began to understand the enormity, the obscenity, of the things I had done. Somehow, she felt it too. She leapt up, took two steps and stood before me. Her presence was suddenly regal, domineering, and in unconscious response I bowed my head. She whispered. 'You... you have regrets .' 'No, no, I...' Her voice rose. 'Yes! I can see them. See them in your eyes!' I too raised my voice. 'Ridiculous! How can you?' A reaching hand gently caressed my cheek. She spoke as a mother to a child. 'Everything you witness - kindness, cruelty, hatred, forgiveness - changes you, becomes you. It is etched, scribed on you... It scars you.' The pity in her initial tone gave way to sorrow then quickly morphed into anger. Her inner rage, the cause of which I had so recently personified, was now directed elsewhere and I was grateful to no longer be her target. 'Oh, soldier! The things they made you do! The fighting, the killing... My people! My people!' As she spoke, I recognised a change, felt a sudden shift in my perspective. Whereas before, ... the fighting had been akin to cultivating and the dead had simply been the resultant harvest, I now saw the reality, felt the blood and gore of countless victims wash over me and submerge me. I felt suddenly nauseous, vertiginous. I staggered. Despite her slender frame, she caught me, steadied me, till the sickening sensations passed. And then she stood on tiptoe and kissed my mouth. It was an attack for which I had no defence. I froze. Confusion raged through me. Options briefly offered themselves, were rejected and replaced, reconsidered and reinstated, in an endless inescapable loop. Based on ancient well-tested code, my combat algorithms were indeed flawless; I could kill effortlessly and unerringly, and yet this simple intimate gesture had disarmed me, completely immobilised me. In my head, an endlessly spinning coin flipped from one unequivocal extreme to its undeniable antithesis. With each passing millisecond I experienced a multiplex of indecision, a lifetime of ambivalence. As per my programming, I weighed and discarded each option then raced to the next, on and on, round and round, till my eyes cried, my body shook, and my poor heart threatened to explode. She is deadly. I should kill her. She is lovely. I could love her. But I have no cock. And she mocks me. She is danger. I will kill her. But I want her. Want to take her. And she knows it. She is using me. But I don't care. She is perfect. Yet deceitful. She will kill me. But then so what? I could love her. Run ...