Ciaphas Cain's Evil Twin

From 1d4chan
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Author's note[edit]

This is the view I had of Cain when I read all the descriptions of him without reading the novels. I have now read the novels, and am left with the high contrast between what I thought of him - and probably what most people who haven't read the books think of him - and what he really is like in the books. If you're Cain fan and don't want to see him in a more negative light than he is portrayed in the novels, don't read this. You have been warned. This is just something fun to share with my fellow didn't-read-the-Cain-novels-but-I'm-pretty-sure-how-it-is netizens - I guarantee you it's not like this.

For our purposes, the story takes place in an Alternate Universe, and "Evil Twin" is an euphemism for Alternate Universe!Cain. Wherever inconsistencies with the Wh40k pop up, keep that in mind. If Bold textinconsistencies from in-universe information appear, blame it on the narrator. I can guarantee you that at least one of the versions is true ... or Cain's skipping through the multiverse without telling us.

Chapter 1[edit]

Strolling aboard the decks of the Righteous Wrath, Cain finally felt as home after the decades he had "served" aboard that ship.
He remembered the first days, the stupidity of the bureaucrats that threatened to undermind his easy life by mangling two regiments into one - that was preposturous! Women warriors was one thing, but serving besides the men? Everyone knew the 301st was older, more disciplined and more entitled to its name than those bitches in the 296th. But as a good charismatic Commissar, he toned that down.
He remembered meeting Kasteen, that hopeful face that her regiment was to be treated equally - maybe even superior - to that of the men! Ridiculous. Her red hair and hopeful blue eyes made Cain sick, and he even thought he saw a gleam of lust (for manipulating him) in her young eyes. Well, that would change. At least the uniform was appealing to the eye, but he could see how to make improvements to it.
The meeting with Kasteen and Broklaw was better received by Cain, who took a liking to the man immediately - he was a man, he knew what he was going through. Though they kept it civil, Cain subtly and charismatically moved the discussion towards lowering the rights of the women slightly - as well as their positions - and rising the men. He was the morale officer after all, and such things, he claimed, would indeed improve morale. Kasteen didn't object much - little experience, no people to lean against if Cain would actually shoot her. He subtly emphasized that point too.
While Kasteen left, he kept Broklaw for some more time, to her apparent indiference, to talk some strategies for integrating the men.
"Just men stuff, Kasteen, hope you don't mind. We know best what the male troops will want from this regiment." She accepted his explanation without blinking.
After their meeting, Broklaw left a happy and grinning man. Things would shape up, indeed.
But it was the riot that gave Cain definite cause to act. When the woman was accused to have thrown the first punch, both Cain and Broklaw were eager to back that up. Cain even claimed to have been around when the fighting started, and nobody's word could best his - they knew they'd get a lasbolt in the head if they tried. He'd actually been hiding the entire time, and came in last, seeing the disaster unfold. He sent the riot pacifier in. There were deceased, of course, but at least Cain was safe behind the knocked-down tables. He got all the credit, in time, since nobody would put themselves between Cain and his worshippers, even if to invent - though in this case they wouldn't - their involvement in the pacifying of the riot.
Things escalated when, before the guilty were to be executed, so were one tenth - though Cain strongly suggested two tenth - of the women soldiers. Kasteen practically begged in front of a steel-faced Cain and a grinning Broklaw.
"But sir, they're not blame for one person's-"
"Nonsense", Cain interrupted, "they helped the perpretator continue and escalate the riot. An example must be set."
Kasteen face dropped, looking resigned, then looked half-up to him. "Isn't there any way we can... reduce the number of casualties?"
Cain suppressed a snicker and asked Broklaw to leave them to discuss the issue of the women as they'd discussed the issue of the men. Ordinarily, Broklaw would have been worried and that might have even made him insist he'd stay, but he thought he knew Cain now, knew how he'd kept all his other assignments and his own career in check, and while he didn't exactly trust him, he trusted Cain's ability to steer a regiment.
When they were alone, Cain continued. "I may think about it, but the price will be steep."
"It's better than 2 tenths of my people be summarily executed for what they didn't-"
"Er-hem", Cain interrupted.
"Right, sorry sir." Kasteen interrupted.
"As I said, an example has to be made. The guilty have to be punished."
"Of course, sir!" Kasteen answered eagerly.
"And some have to die. Maybe less, if other punitive actions will be enforced. Say, even less than 1 in 10. I'm willing to go as far as 1 in 50."
Kasteen's heart skipped a beat. This was a lot better. 5 times her troops would be spared.
"Provided, of course, of the other punitive actions..."
"Of course, sir!"
Cain supressed another snicker, though by this time, Kasteen wouldn't be even noticing, only looking for disapproval on his face.
"First off, the 296 will no longer exist." Kasteen looked puzzled, maybe a little worried that they'll be turned into a penal legion, but things were going well - he wouldn't go that far after giving her so much hope. "This regiment will be from on known only as the 301st, and I expect your troops - your remaining troops - to live up to that name!"
"Yes, sir!" She said with fake overjoy.
"Secondly, all the women ranks, except for yourself, will only subordonate themselves to the higher male rank, and - if they have too high a rank - they'll be demoted for that man to take the role. After all, we're doing the Emperor's duty, we're not glory-hounds."
They both suppressed a snicker at that, knowing his reputation.
"And thirdly..." he said, coming up close to her, "You and your girls will be nicer to the men... a lot nicer... and will provide entertainment when it is required", he continued, invading her personal space although she didn't give signs of discomfort.
"Yes, sir." she answered clipped, but not with enthusiasm.
"Fail in either of these three tasks and a penal regiment awaits your troops. Is that clear?" he said, touching one of her breasts through her uniform.
"Yes, sir." She said, without flinching.
"Good, you may leave now, and do your job. I expect you in my cabin tonight at sleep-time."
"Yes, sir." She saluted and left like she has just been told to prepare another drill. Cain smiled. Yes, the morale will rise around his, amongst other things...

Cain had it all planned out after that. The executions followed, the "randomly" selected troopers coincidentally being the ugliest ones in the regiments, whatever their skills and ranks were. Few women noticed, but the men did and were grateful. Most of them saw where this was going and were ready to give their lives for Cain - or save his, when the time came - for what they'd give them. All according to plan.
Only one certain Sulla escaped the purge, as Cain read her as an interesting unladylike butch dyke with a relatively sharp mind, a hero worship of Cain, and the hate for lax behavior, whatever the gender. She was the only one allowed to give orders to men, through which Cain proved two things: that if a woman was competent (say, like Kasteen), she was allowed to give orders to all those below her ranks, and that only two women deserved this honor, thus women must be inferior. Sulla took these commandments - although never spelled out, but subtly encouraged - with no problems and soon she had made a dyke club of proffessionals that would give orders to other women through the authority of "Lady Sulla". Of course, they had no actual authority, but this satisfied Cain that, besides the half of the male regiment, he'd have on his side around half of the women, and very likely, those aggressed by them would put all their adullation into Cain too, even broken as they were about to become.
Cain enjoyed Kasteen's company well. Her uniform was "taking water" each passing day, but, as she put it, "her pride as a Valhallan" made her keep the same clothes none-the-less. The truth was of course that after each visit, Cain would make some hands-on modification to it. Only Broklaw and Jurgen knew that for a fact, both grinning at her any time she'd left his cabin, which was close to morning, sometimes too close for (her) confort. Of course, that meant her performance (as a Colonel at least) fell substantially, but both Cain and Broklaw thought it was normal for a woman and decided to act "chivalierly" about it and not make too much fuss (on official lines, at least). This did however meant a blow for her troops, who were punished for her "negligence": their curfews were earlier than the men's, they got fewer hours to train and more to repent, the Chapel started to be open all day for whipping these women into further submissing to Cain and the Emperor. Nobody could argue with the validity of the actions, and few wanted to.
On another of Kasteen's slips, a new order was issued: since women soldiers couldn't be trusted to do things right alone, all women were to be housed in a quarter with a man. The man, being more resourceful, would program their schedule as he saw fit, and would teach them the finer actions of the guard. This lead exactly to what Cain expected, and soon those Valhallan haughties were broken to cock-whores and believed that's all they were. Well, all except Sulla's flock. Those were superior breeds of women, and could only have Cain's cock - or who they chose, as long as Cain gave them permission to.

By this time, Cain was getting tired of Kasteen and started giving her to Broklaw and Jurgen. Broklaw wasn't even remotely surprised, having sampled some of the trooper pussies and heard the rumors about how the men were breaking them. Broklaw wasn't by far stupid, and knew it started from above, not from below, and started seeing Cain's full plan, intelligence and resourcefulness, and was happy with the situation, hell, happy that he could serve besides someone like Cain and not some Emperor-botherer trigger-happy commissar. He was still a little worried about Sulla and her possee, but decided to let her be, figuring Cain was paranoid enough to need a falesafe against him and the men if something was up. Make a thousand secret societies, turn them against each other, keep them in a perpetual cold war, make them all want your gratitude... he had heard this tactic employed before, though he could vaguely recollect it had been some Chaos psycher's. Oh well, no reason to dwell on it too much.

Chapter 2[edit]

Cain was sitting, having his cock sucked by a new recruit, young blond goddess with lips and tits to die for. He was sitting on the couch, recollecting how he'd got out of so much shit. He remembered when the Eldar raiders were ready to attack him and his convoy, and how he had enough visual signs - i.e. raids - and a splitting headache that somehow told him that this'd be the shit he doesn't want to go through. So he did a risky thing so early in his career - he met alone with the leader of the raiders, who surprisingly accepted his proposal that they'd take all but him - after all, what was one man compared to the thousands they'd have for the arenas to slowly bled? When he saw their numbers, fire-power and skill, he was happy he'd listen to that gut/head-feeling, though these were rare. He had worried for a while that it might have been some Chaos taint on him - not that he was worried about his soul much, but his life... THAT was worth preserving. And even if he knew he could now get his cock polished on these northern-climate bitches, it wouldn't be worth his life. That was one of the few things that kept him out of Chaos' clutches - he'd prefer to live in ignonimity than in the pleasures of Slaneesh, be protected by others than by himself weilding Khorne's axes... he'd given a few thought on Tzeetch and was fairly certain he could outmanuver him, but the chance never really came up. All the Tzeetch fanatics were as mad and as ax (or mutation) weilding as the rest. Not a good way to live, he thought. No, the Imperium would last, and if the information he'd got through unscrupulous sources - like Inquisitors, sealed files and Amberley - about the Emperor's Second Rising turning Holy Terra into just another feast for the Ruinous Powers, there was always Ultramar. And, failing that, he could always lead for Chaos - he knew they didn't accept failures, but he had Chaos' rotten luck over the years, and if that luck was boosted, along with some psychic powers to his charisma, he could go as far as, probably not Warmaster, unless Abaddon screwed up once too much and-
His train of thoughts were interrupted by a poping sounds and a feeling of being relieves, and he looked into the young trooper's face full of cum, looking at him, smiling, but her eyes pleading. He smiled warmly at her.
"Do you want a drink?"
She couldn't really answer, as she was trying to eat as much as the cum on her face and swallow what was down her throat without taking her face away from the Commissar. She was instructed to do so, and knew that this man held her life in his hands. She also knew that, even if she wasn't shot here, one word to the men or Sulla's girls from the Commissar and she's be gangbangs at least one night ruthlessly.
He took a cup of amesiac and poured it on her open mouth, splattering her beautiful hair, entering her eyes, nostrils. While she instinctively closed her eyes, she didn't cough, she didn't move. She was a trooper, damn it, the Emperor's Finest, and wasn't about to let this humiliation show to the man who held her life in his hands.
He continued to stay on a couch, waiting for a new hardon, and his stay held her naked, on her knees, waiting to aliviate that one too.
He felt another tingle in his hand and for a few long second, he felt his arm had a metal movement and reduced feeling. Nonsense! He'd taken well care of his body, knowing the old addage to not fear the man with a lot of scars, because he was hit and thus left his guard down often. Be afraid with the one with none, because he was good enough to never be hurt.
When the feeling almost subsided, he heard a voice, as of from near him, as if from his head even, silently voicing one word "Fullmetal" *gurgle* *gurgle*. Fullmetal? What the hell was that? That he'd been encased in metal? That was stupid. Probably the warp trying to mock him again. Despite his daydreams, he'd taken care with the warp and its psychers - after all, they would know all about what he was doing, and they could tell the authorities - loyal to them or not - just to screw him over. Why, he didn't need to know and didn't care, they were chaotic. He'd executed his share of psychers in his life. The word reverberated in him again, along with the gurglish laugh, and he ignore it, as the new girl as starting to lick his stiff cock again.
This reminded him of Amberley, of how he met her, of how he'd reacted to her being an Inquisitor. Though on the outside, he kept his smile and hid his shock more than he'd imagined himself to, on the inside, he was not scared, only anxious. He even held his heartbeats in a calm rhytm and thanked whatever entities of the warp either protected him from the Inquisitor witch's powers - for he knew most Inquisitor filth were either warlocks or witches, he dared think even bigger hypocryths than himself - or, more likely, his own dumb luck that the bitch didn't bother to read him yet, for he would surely be dead right now. Even if she were thinking to use him as a tool if she found out of his incompetence, cowardness and disrespect towards women, this ongoing thought would get him killed. For he knew about a certain device he had bargained for with the Eldar that was to said to have - or to have, in the future? Who knew, the ways of the eldar were fickle and strange - subdued an Inquisitor in an attempt to get the dreaded - or dreadful, both may qualify - Night Lords off their asses, and failed miserably. Well, the plan failed, not the control over the Inquisitor, who had - will have? - almost defeated the one(s) claiming rulership over the disparred Traitor Legion. He was waiting for such a time to subdue his own Inquisitor with such a device, but he always thought he'd run into a grumpy deserving old man who could be ringed for one hundred years at best. But this hot piece of ass would last longer, depending on how he'd choose to use her, and what she lacked in authority figure, she more than made up in meat to toss to the sharks to fuck well to fulfil his purposes.
When they dined, he put the device in her food, not thinking for one second that it'd fail. Whatever poison detectors the Inquisitors had, he was sure they had enough xenos bling around them to not find another one. He knew that at least, between himself and most Inquisitors, his second point of acceptance with them was that the xenos races were the least dangerous compared to the Archenemy's followers. He had dealt with the human-like Eldar and Tau in mirriad circumstances, only rarely acting to subdue a much smaller power of theirs than he had available at those times, and always sure that they'd be made to believe that he had nothing to do with it - after all, he was outside the chain of command. He dealt with them a lot better than he'd dealt with the Eldar raiders and observed fastly that they were nothing like their kin. Indeed, there were rare those ocasions that he'd had to betray his fellow human beings, at least certainly not now when he was the de-facto leader of the haughty - and, he had to admit, competent and thus useful - Valhallans.
The device in Amberley's food was to react to the one Cain had cirgicly inserted into his arm's skin - Fullmetal came to mind, and as fast, went on its business - and she's be controlled through a series of thought or voice commands. The beauty was that one was stronger than the other only if he wanted it to at the moment - he could give a harsh verbal command to kill herself and a soft psychic command to shoot an assailant, and she'd do the latter. Conversly, he could be made to give her psychic commands - and even those could be contradictory and still he could give priority to each - and a soft word could override them.
She realised something was wrong when she couldn't move. She tried to use her psychic powers, but he thoughts couldn't control the warp anymore, though she somehow knew that if she was "let" to, she would. She moved her head from her plate to his face, and was surprised that she was "allowed" this. She would be allowed any action that wasn't specifically denied, that wouldn't put her master in a bad light, in the short, medium or long turn, and there were other subtleties, like if she wanted to embarras him in the short term to save his face or life in the long term, she would, but if the problem was in reverse, she wouldn't. It went even deeper than this though, she was practically attuned to his personality and wants and dislikes, and would always have to act according to "What would Cain want?". The worst of it is that she knew this, knew her vocation, now was even allowed - even made - to read Cain's mind and knew this cowardly sniveling that was so close to falling to the Ruinous Powers and couldn't do anything but to obey nonetheless. To betrayed the Emperor. He chuckled at this.
"Oh, don't worry, my dear, I won't make you betray the Imperium or the Emperor. I won't even sell you to the xenos for your talents, or make you join Chaos. They're the enemy, and the Imperium needs us, and we needs it... at least as long as we can game it. No, you'll continue to do your duty, do it to the better acceptance of your peers even, I don't mind your genocide of humans, mutants or xenos alike. Just as long as you do that to those that would harm us - you and me and my assets - and leave well enough alone those who would deal with us." His smile brodened.
"But enough about that. You got me here to seduce me, didn't you? To make me your boy toy, to use me as an expendable pawn throughout the Galaxy. Well, we're going to give you the shagging you want, but not with the person you'd like."
She hadn't planned that, of course. She well and truly respected him, even liked him on some level, trusted him. Sure, anyone could have put that in her food, and any precautions she would have taken would probably have made no difference, but still, she'd trusted him to not even bother. She knew on some level that he knew this too, directly from her mind, with the help of that xenos device, but not on a concious level, not anymore. She knew then that she'd be at his mercy, that he could sell her to a brothel - or have her as compromised to her peers and make her help them have their way with her. Destroy her body, destroy her mind. She wasn't in control anymore.
Suddenly, something came close to her, something ill-smelling and wrong-feeling. For a moment she didn't know what it was and thought it was some predator of the Warp that Cain must have summoned, but when she turned around, she only saw a man. No, she saw him with her human eyes, but with her spirit she could only feel a big hole there. A Blank.
"You're not going to let that fuck me, right? Do you even know what he is?"
Jurgen looked quizzical, but Cain just smiled. "I know that if I let anyone else do it to you, you'd just block it out. I could probably just block the block... but this will be more fun. This will hurt, won't it? It'll be like someone tears a part of your soul while they're doing it. That's what traitorous witches like you deserve."
Jurgen just assumed Cain was talking about his miasma and the witch thing - maybe some foreplay, they'd all be dead if she were a witch anyway, and even if she was, it meant he had control over her and he wouldn't feel to dirty about it. He was just happy to serve Cain of all people, everyone else shunning him. He'd never had pussy in his life before Cain, and now he only had one, but what a pussy - Kasteen, the Colonel, was the only one who (was forced to) gave him the time a day. Actually, to give him a part of her day, any way he wanted to. And now another one, an Inquisitor, a witch - what did it matter to him? She was beautiful, and pussy was pussy.
Amberley started giving soul-wrenching screams as she was unceremoniously taken from the rear with her robes still up her torso by Jurgen. Witchfire started forming around her, only to be drowned by their proximity to Jurgen. Jurgen made no comment and pretended to take no notice of the spectacle: if he was told to rape this woman and make her yell, and that his body, for whatever reason, was making it so, it just meant he proved useful to the Comissar. He knew he didn't want to see the day when he'd stopped proving useful, for the Commissar could as well reassign him - and anywhere else would probably be worse than here, even barring the pussy - or outright have him tortured or killed for disappointing his boss. He continued to pump the wench, mildly surprised that the witchfire indeed dissolved in his proximity, as if afraid of him.
Cain, on the other hand, was between ecstatic and bursting in a laughing mad face, though he didn't know what exactly stopped him from revealing more than a sly grin. Maybe it was the years of paranoia that he pumped into himself, always on guard, even while sleeping. One more thing amused him even further - the fact that this was a test as much for himself as for Jurgen and they were both passing with flying colors. His control on Amberley didn't waver, and he even felt how easy he could make her shut up, and how he wouldn't be bothered by her fight against such a command, and that his other commands - like not resisting more than hurting herself mildly - were followed without strain on his hand or his head. He wasn't worried about others hearing the scream - his aids were used to this, especially Broklaw and Kasteen. He made a special note to introduce the two, so that Kasteen would know that he had an Inquisitor in his pocket and that there were stronger women subjected to the same actions as her and her girls.
Despite all reason, all pain, and all expectations, Cain felt a stirring in his hand go to his head, telling him that Amberley was about to cum, concidentally around the same time as Jurgen. He just started transfixed as the tortured woman - he slightly probed with the device in his mind and saw that not even demons could think of a worse torture for her than being fucked by a blank - reached climax and Jurgen ejaculated inside her.
He took a few steps back, zipping his pants, all the while looking at Cain for any order to continue. Amberley was still shaking, but had enough strenght to look Cain in the eye with a pleading face and a shaking head in the sign of "no", as in "no more".
He smiled again and she closed her eyes, and let her head fall, waiting for the new onslaught. At the same time, Jurgen looked at his boss and held his hand to unbotton his pants again at any sign from him. Cain instead shooed him off, and Jurgen actually felt some sort of relief, as he didn't want those damn witchfires around him, even if the Emperor protected him somehow from it.
Cain put a hand under her head and raised it up, commanding her to open her eyes. She looked at him, and finally noticed Jurgen was nowhere in sight - or in any close range for disturbtion. He looked at her with one of his few cruel smiles.
"I'm vaguely sorry I had to do this, but I had to find out some things. You should be glad you didn't get a bullet in the head the moment you got the other object in." His smile kept twisting and conterting, as well as his face. Amberley wondered how she could think this monster for ever a moment as a human being, let along an Emperor fearing fighting man of the Imperium.
"I'll give you a choice - at least for the moment. Will it be Jurgen or me?"
That wasn't a choice. She gurgled "You."
He let himself laugh loudly, unzipped and put his dick in her open mouth without even telling her what to do and not to bite. He could stop her if she tried, but the punishment was obvious even if she ever though she'd succeed. The pain Cain would suffer would be minimal compared to the pain she would get from Jurgen.
He grabbed her head by the hair and moved it up to his dick's base. He adjusted a few of her movements in her jaw so that she'd take it all in, without raking it. He kept her like that for some time, most of the time with her nose against his waist, only letting her breath through the nose a few times before keeping her there again. He knew she wouldn't suffocate. For one thing, she was an Inquisitor, taught to deal with the most extreme of conditions. For another, he'd fell in the device, however close or far she'd be, if she was close to expiring, and she'd fell if he were. For better or for worse, they'd each have to save each other for their own benefit and prosperity. Cain suspected - but sure or not, implanted in Amberley's head - that idea that she would die if something happened to him. He still didn't know much about the xenos device, but was certain creatures like the Eldar wouldn't let a human run around knowing about them if they didn't encode some failsafe into the device if something happened to them.
Between filling her mouth with dick and filling her mouth with cum, Cain was already thinking ahead, how he would use this one Inquisitor. He knew the Inquisitors rarely saw eye to eye on most things, and that each had a small group of almost-like-minded people at most. But he also knew that this meant, ironically, that one Inquisitor's ideas and ideals would be supported by all but the ones that disliked openly that idea. He also knew that if 5 or 10 Inquisitors were like-minded on a subject, and if this overweighed any other personal beliefs, then their faction would probably be in the to 10-50 factions as strenght, maybe even higher. And indeed, if their ideas weren't extreme enough to bring down the rest of the Inquisition on them, they'd practically rule the Inquisition's stance on that idea. Or person. And Cain had only one idea and only one person to look out for: himself. So he'd send Amberley to give him a good rep with the Inquisition, those a bit gullible (he knew it would be a stretch) and those that believed her, not those that'd come investigate anyone with a good rep, give them a hint that Cain's off-limits to other Inquisitors and that he's hers (he thought that was funny, she'd probably have done that too if she weren't controlled by him) and use her new found gang of Cain admirers to smite any other faction that'd have something against him. He also found out something interesting, about small cults here and there that were worshipping Cain as the Emperor's Second Coming. He knew how dangerous that was to him, especially if some Emperor-botherer found them and reported them, and especially since they showed signs of being manipulated by Chaos. But he had her change their way, proclaim herself Cain's direct link from the heavens - well, technically and without her wishes, she kinda was - and to smite anyone who said differently. She'd report that the threat had been neutralised, and indeed, it would have, for he knew she hated Chaos, and even if he'd ever side with It, he could always throw his worshippers into the raving claws of those that'd satisfy him, not some random ungreatful creature of the Warp.
He popped his cum in her mouth, forcing her head upwards with the implant so she'd swallow every last drop, then, keeping her in that position, took her from all the holes, including using a condom to continue raping her pussy and cuming in her ass. After a few hours, he let her go, not allowing her to wash herself except in the parts that were not covered by his cum, and not until they'd start infecting or stinking too much.
In those hours, he continued to probe her mind and discover more and intriguing facts and facets of the Inquisition. His sources had told him some things, but this was high-class insider information. He wouldn't sell it - it was too hot to handle - but he would definitely make use of it. Among the more benign things, he found out that Amberley intended - had the seed of intending, was going to think of intending - to write a book about him. He chuckled inwardly as he imagined this little book girl that'd sometimes go out on the field - a great combination as far as he was concerned - with a dildo in her pussy, getting off on telling the Imperium about the great Ciphas Cain, using her influence to publish it anonymously and making him look like an avatar of the God Emperor himself. He also searched for something else that interested him the most: immortality. He had waited in searching it through other sources until now, because he knew wherever he'd find it, some branches of the Imperium would find it heresy and would treat accordingly, whatever his official powers. He was vaguely disappointed when he found out nothing except the all-known rejuvenant for his social status, but he gave her a command to order some for those chosen by him, some of the girls, Broklaw, Jurgen and Kasteen, even if he was almost bored with her. He had to make things more spicey. This would cement his status as an all-around nice guy to the Guard and would keep his most valued pussy fresh for both himself and his clients and those in the upper echelones.
Just around his thoughts about immortality, he heard a faint sound accompanied by the gurgled he had come accustomed with. "You already have it." He raised his eyebrow and involuntarily asked in his head "How?". The gurgles were stronger now, laughing, and even Amberley, in her orifice-opened stance, thought she felt or heard something. "The Author" *gurgle* *gurgle* "Ha ha ha" *gurgle*. The sound shrank as fast as it had gained volume, and Cain wondered about this while pumping Amberley's ass for the nteenth time. "The Author? The hell is that?" Dismissing the thought, but somehow feeling energised, he continued pumping Amberley until he came into her.
After he was finished with her, he had her plug her pussy with a plastic obstrusion - a dildo some would call it - and keep it in there unless hygene or health demanded otherwise. He also put in her mind a thought to always have one when she'd been writing, anything at all, and to be sometimes distracted by it. He knew this would be a minor distraction for the Inquisitor compared to all the trials she'd been through, but that last order would work as well as on any other human. He smiled at her as he walked her off, in front of the entire guard, and she smiled at him, cursing him in her head, with the vibrator pounding in her pussy.

Chapter 3[edit]

Another Day In The Life Of The Hero Of The Imperium

Another trip to an Emperor-forsaken rock - though a pretty one by all appearences - and another fat slob of a Governer. He hoped that if not him, at least the noblety he had accustumed his "scouts" (especially Sulla's girls) bribed would show him a good time. He was to be pleasently surprised, as it turned out.
Governer Eustace was as fat a slob as he looked. From his first conversation with the Commissar, he made no attempt to hide, even between colorful words, his love of young girls and his various perversions. Maybe he was about to throw it as a joke, maybe Cain's interested face is what he was expecting and he may have had a plan if he didn't see it, but as it was, he continued with rapts of deprivaty that he could only imagine, and some of which he couldn't. Broklaw, Kasteen and Jurgen were with him, the first mildly disconcerned, the second more obviously - which amused Cain further - and the last unblinking, but with an underlining of unease. Not the Blank-to-Chaos unease, the unease of a man who's just been told that it's ok to fuck a woman in the ass (which, come to think about it, Jurgen had displayed in his first time with both Kasteen's and Amberley's).
In no time, the Governor led them to his dungeon, along with his cohort who by this time had either gotten used to it or were actively selected to have enjoyed it. Remembering the Governor and his family had ruled for a long time the region, Cain suspected what happened with those who rose high enough to know the Governor's secret, and did not share it. He could imagine exile from the court (not such a bad thing, it just meant they wouldn't stick around for the rest of their lives around their leader, which really, some might have prefered it this way) or executions for those who'd blabbed. At least, he hoped he'd take the first measure first.
The dungeons walls were full of naked women in different positions, most seemed in agony and a few in a dream-like fever, though Cain suspected either natural complacency or under the influence of medicine if they had some disease to be cured. He had no illusions that those that didn't need medicated, would never be let to slumber peacefully. He smiled: he liked it here. Broklaw wasn't as taken aback as Cain suspected, and anyway, the Governor now knew he had all of them: if Broklaw or the others would squeal, it would be Cain's problems, in which case the Commissar would have to take a hands-on(-the-gun) approach.
The Governor pointed to a red-haired woman tied by her hands and feet to posts on the wall that didn't allow her to reach the floor. She had her back arched to avoid the spikes - relatively blunted, but long - if she "rested" on them, it'd scratch and wound her back, but if she was punched in the chest - which seemed to have happened oftenly, judging from the wound marks on her stomach - they would only penetrate her skin, but not punch her spine, only hurt it. He introduced them in a slow timbre.
"Commissar Cain, may I introduce Countess... well, her name doesn't really matter, does it?"
The woman rose her yellow, feline eyes towards Cain, recognising the name of the Hero of the Imperium, begging him to help. Short of that, begging him to kill her. But he'd do neither, he was a dead man if he started shooting left and right in someone else's teritorry, and he was well aware of that. And besides, he enjoyed her that way.
"I'm sorry, my dear, but he'll not be doing any of that", the Governor said, as if reading her mind. "He's a guest here and I think he takes to you. Would you like to do her right here, as she is? I can tell you banging her back against the wall gives some excruciating pains."
Kasteen was looking close to horrofied, recognising something of herself in that woman. If they could do this to a Countess...
But Broklaw now seemed a lot less stiff and a lot more interested. Only Jurgen wasn't overridden by lust - not that he didn't enjoy it, but he knew his duty came first. Duty, usefulness, he kept repeating to himself. And he suspected the Commissar would not allow him to fuck any of them - not in here, anyway. Maybe some scrap the Governor would give them in his office, but probably not this redhead. Not that it matter, he had another one next to him. He smiled sheepishly.
Cain wasted little time, unzipped his pants, and entered the pleading woman. She didn't have the right to beg with her lips, for that would have brought upon her harsh punishment and she knew it. But she hoped this man - this great man, great saviour of the people - would have mercy on her. It was rather obvious he wouldn't. He pounded on her instantly, and pushed her back to the spikes just to make a point. Even as she resisted, he punched her lungs while raping her and she gave up struggling, fighting for air instead. She discovered that was a mistake as, even if she got little air, she got a lot of pain, being pushed against the spikes, as they ripped her skin and almost touched directly her spine. Although that didn't happen, the indirect contact started distorting her spine, and she gave a howler, as he gave one, but of pleasure. He continued fucking her and pushing her in the spikes, no longer punching her in the lungs for fear she'd pass out or stop yelling and induce him harder to climax. He went about this for a few minutes until he came in her. The guests and the host looked fascinated throughout the whole deal, staring more at the upper part of the woman than the lower part of the man (whose ass was covered, anyway).
Kasteen got out of it a little wiser, looking around her and at the woman, realising how much worse Cain could have made their lives if he wanted to. He could shoot just about as many as he wanted until one appointed Colonel would turn her girls in the kind of broken shells that were all around them. She started commending the Commissar's restraint and appreciated him for taking such vile pleasures to other girls but her own.
When he finished, Cain asked the question that was on his mind since he was the beauty, but never had time to ask.
"And how does one access her ass in this posture?" He asked nonchalantly.
The Governer gave a wry smile, and while looking through his clothes for a remote, answered. "I thought you'd never ask."
The woman was looking hysterical now, crying and shaking her head in a "no" direction, almost banging her head each time to the walls. This only served to get Cain hard again.
The Governer pushed a button and what looked like an amazing contorsionist act gone so wrong and yet so right was displayed to the visitors. The woman was now yelling her lungs out as the menacles around her hands and feet took her closer to the spikes than she'd ever been, and the hands menacles were slowly but surely travelling to the ones at her feet. Her back was scraped harshly, then her scalp, and blood started running unchecked from her back on the floor. She kept screaming until they reached close to her feet, and her spine made cracking noises, sure to all that it broke in several places. Her screams stopped in her throat, but her mouth and eyes remained opened to their farthest. They were mildly surprised that she was still aware, but they suspected they put enough drugs in her to keep a person alive after being run over by a Baneblade.
The show wasn't over and now the hands shackles were leaving the wall, secured to it by two alongated metal poles. This left her spine some leeway and to everyone's amazement, she started to wiggle. Then the alongated shackles continued to lower, until she was bent backwards and her ass in plain view. Though still too high up to be fucked, the hand shackles went almost in the floor, then a door opened in the stone wall below the leg shackles. Her hands and her head were introduced in there and a stench of feces errupted, though nothing compared to what Jurgen smelled on his good days, and anyway they were far away to only get the least of it to their noses. What followed next was obvious to all: the woman was put head-first in the feces of the prisoners - or maybe of the toilets from the palace or the Governor himself - and she puked in it, though it was obvious both from sound and from logic that she didn't have much to expulge.
Then her feet shackles moved down again, eliciting a few more bone cracks and muffled moans, and finally positioning her ass to Cain's already hardened dick. He entered her again as she tried to moan and unwantedly gurgitated some of the feces, while Cain mused, as he did often when is such company, if this was just a natural orgy coming from a sick inbred Governor mind, or if the hand of Slaanesh had visited this world and these people, as he had seen in many cases in his career. More often than not, this question would come on a whim and he would leave with it unanswered and not caring that it was so, for he was happy to have people share their pleasure for free with him, and, why not, some of them may have hoped they'd corrupt him in their God's name. But although Cain was corruptable, he would not be by this, not by a pleasure god male/female abomination. Sure, he'd let a world rot and a warp portal open when he found out - again through his weird precognition - that he'd be fighting a former aquaintance and lover, now become demoness of this pleasure thing, but he had got out with his life from that planet, got to see his rival Commissar killed by a stray shot in the back, although there were no enemies there, and as he was in-flight into space, all hell broke loose, almost literally. A warp portal opened on that planet, and soon, the system had been overrun by demons, only the intervention of thousands of psychers, millions of Guardsmen (he made sure not his own) and sacrifices from Space Marines themselves finally taking back the system, then arduously, the planet. Cain had stayed about the ship that time, watching and "planning" with his fellow officers from the safety of the edges of the system, where all the big rollers stayed to hide their heads between their (or their mistresses') legs, and where it was expected for him to do it. On any other occasion, such an event would have elicited harsh censure on his Regiment, but as sly as ever, he had managed to turn a disastrous situation into one that "could have been worse" - indeed, a line that, if historians would have studied enough of transcripts involving Cain, would have observed it was used scarily often by him - but then again, whatever they wrote, it would have been checked by Cain's vast spy network (and now Amberley's), and it would be sealed by her and they would be assassinated shortly anyway. After all, had they not informed the Imperium of the demonic portal opening? Sure, the records conflicted in this, they claimed it had opened hours before it was recorded by psychers and scryers, and thus had to flee the unstoppable danger, and of course, who was to be believed, the witch kin or a Hero of the Imperium? Had he not saved countless other sectors by being the first (well, even here, some records contradicted, but if Cain was half as good as they said he was, so were the men and women under him, obviously, and thus more reliable than the planetary communications experts) to announce to the Imperium this remarkable danger? Any other stupid Commissar would have gotten his Regiment killed and the message lost, but not Commissar Cain!
Yes, these were thoughts that entertained him in the middle of a sexual act, the more exquisite, the more it stimulated his brain. He didn't know how that worked, he knew most men would be lost in the moment, maleable. It helped to have half a regiment of beautiful women to put men into that state, then ply, suggest and manipulate them as he wanted. It wasn't even much of a rarity in his antourage for two or more men to be sexually satisfied by different or even the same person in the same room, talking business (or, as most often was, talking dirty and leaving business to another night or to the official meetings that were boring enough as they were) and enjoying the local (or the good) amasec. He had met all kinds of degenerates in his life, rarely even mutants hiding their mutations under coats, both physical and of power. He could see right through them, and would promise to keep quiet in exchange for favors, basically owning them until they were unlucky enough (and most were) to be caught red handed... or blue footed, or purple jawed, something like that. He mused that if he was to have worked with (or for) Amberley in close to equal terms, he'd have had to report some of these to aleviate suspicion and prove this loyalty, thus cutting a lot of favors for very little in return. Now, he was free to conduct business, his way. With people like this Governer.
Cumming into the now perpetual gagging girl woke him out of his revery, and he was glad to have had such a calm and almost angelic face throughout the action, despite his physical rush to get to the woman's holes, and he saw a platitude of awe in many of the observers, who were, after all, surrounded by a den of depravity, screaming and crying, both in pain and in pleasure. Here, the calm face of a Commissar having just filled a Countess of a foreign world was as out of place as an ork teleported next to the High Lords of Terra from accross the Galaxy without warning for any of the parties involved.
He wiped his dick on her bony, sweaty back, put it back in his pants and closed them like he was just walking from the bathroom, and as if there was no one around. The Governer gave what was one in the line of many knowing smiles and escorted Cain around his underground garden, giving him the option to sample some more of his flowers.
Cain accepted gracefully this job, as he did many other tedious duties for the Imperium of Man and the God-Emperor of Mankind watching him from the Golden Throne sacrificing his time for His Subjects. Another Uneventful Day In The Life Of The Hero Of The Imperium.

Chapter 4[edit]


It was time for the regular inspection, and Cain followed it eagerously. He didn't want to miss a chance, especially in the beginning, to see how his methods had shaped and helped integrate the two regiments into one cohesive fighting force fit for the Emperor's name. Although it was better said that one regiment was integrated into another, while it was integrating its smaller cousins into its ways. But that would have probably been incest.
The cabin decks were disorganised, regular orgies, though disparate, happening here and there between male Guardsmen and lowly trained women, now good mostly as cum buckets and maybe at the equal of the cannon fodder of the Chaos Cultists. He saw Sulla in a more private corner, teaching her selected the art of cunt and ass licking, inside and out, and they both shared a grin. Sulla admired Cain for letting her and Kasteen tend to their people, even if the default rulers were, as it should be, the men, Broklaw and Cain. Sulla admired Cain's resourcefulness on the battlefield and his care not to put his regiment into unneeded danger, and had come to see another part of him the rest of the world hadn't, the authoritarian one, the - she considered - only mildly manipulative one, but she knew that to survive in the Imperium of that day, with its Black Crusades, Xenos incursions and enemies from the inside, you had to be ruthless, definitely more ruthless than Cain was with them, and it suited her just fine. She'd make sure there'd be no traitors in her midst, and if she found any, she'd clean up her own messes. She appreciated the leeway she was given with the girls, putting them directly under her, both as answering to and physically. She liked that she could take the rare ones, the useful ones that even the men didn't dare mess with, from the lovely mechanics to the yet to form and blossom women of the Mechanicus. She enjoyed breaking them, and she enjoyed the power, and the knowledge that they were both hers and the rest of the regiment's, that she was the only one capable of breaking a girl's will and still making her continue to serve her Emperor.
Cain looked for a second towards her, almost into her, and he could see all this, and he smiled even more. He made the right choice. She was in many ways like him, and fortunately, not in the scary ways either. Not in the psychotic ways that'd scare himself with if he looked in the mirror. Not in the Imperium-hating desolant backstabbing way he was. No, instead of that, she had loyalty, for humanity, for the group and for the man, and he hoped, that the one for the man would be, or at least become in time, the strongest of them. He needed as many allies as he could get. He didn't make himself any stupid excuses that he lived an exemplary life, or that he was untouchable. For all his sloth and cowardice, he had worked hard faking the life of a near-saint, had bribed the right people, silenced the wrong ones, and made vast spy networks that would report directly to him. Oh, he'd have time, the Imperium did move at a snail's pace, and for all his contacts, they were but a drop in the vastness of the Imperium. He actually had time to talk to twice as many people as he hired, neutrals and his own too, to throw away the scent that he was up to anything. If the neutrals would be questioned, they'd know nothing and would throw any pursuer off his tracks, if his moles were, then they'd say nothing and they'd throw their pursuers off his tracks. They knew the risk of failing. For all his long hours, it helped that many of his attendants were nubile young women coming to him with a problem, that he'd arrange fixed for a certain payment in nature. Most didn't refuse, he was good like that, and besides his proposals were usually the best deals anyone in the position to help ever gave.
Yes, he ran a well oiled corruption machine. Oil. Oil dripped from some cables on the walls, which caught his attention. Someone would have to pay for this, but it probably wouldn't be Sulla. She handled her end of the management of the ship well, and the men were slacking, and for all he was giving them, the least they could do was get off their ass and their cocks out of their girls' mouths and fix the ship once in a while. Well, they did, but a little more often, dammit!
He arrived to the quarters, flanked by Kasteen, Broklaw and Jurgen, as usual. The sour smell of sex, sweat and lack of water was stronger wherever a room was opened, although the cabins were efficiently cleaned and prettied up. It was obvious that both the men and the girls had taken to their designated roles imposed by the emisaries of the ruler of mankind. Each room presented a sigh of woman degraded by a man, man saluting, but not bothering to stop his business, only continuing for the pleasure of the viewing eyes. To her surprise, even Kasteen was starting to enjoy the sights on her ship, especially after what she had seen in the Governer's dungeons. Yes, this was way more civilized to her, and the women weren't really broken... not like the girls from there at least. They had a place to live, air to breathe, food to eat, an Emperor to protect them and manly men to take care of their needs and to protect them from the awful, awful universe on the outside. Yes, there had to be sacrifices, she had sacrificed a big part of her uniform to get on Cain's good side, even if all the eyes were on her when she walked the corridors, where she barely looked like wearing a bra and panties. She wasn't wearing those of course, but that was all that was left of her uniform. She consoled herself that she was to be made available only to upper rank visitors of her ship, Cain and Broklaw of course... and Jurgen. But it could have been a lot worse, right? And so, her girls would have to sacrifice themselves too, being impaled on the Emperor-given rod to teach them humility and that was kind enough to not run them through above the stomach. Yes, life was as good as it was about to get in the Imperium.
Satisfied that the upper decks were in some sembleance of order, the kind of order that would either save his life through gratitude, or through cannon fodder if anyone were to make a surprise attack through the corridors thinking they'd be all quiet and deserted, Cain continued to the lower decks. Normally, an upper officer wouldn't be caught dead there (or be caught, and then found dead, for obvious reasons), but he was Ciaphas Cain and he had gotten the respect of the lower dredges as well as of the upper ones. He was surprised by the ironically more equalitarian and democratic systems in the lower decks than in the Imperium tight-law taught upper decks, since they all considered themselves prosecuted and so, in a strange sense, equal in their suffering. It wouldn't work to give the women to the men down there, because they had a more normal relationship, a more civilian life, and the women below weren't his to give anyway. And it wouldn't have felt too right, either. He loved putting those Valhallan stuck-up bitches in their place, starting with Kasteen and corrupting the young Sulla into his dominatrix bitch for the rest of their former regiment, but down here, biggotry was more at home, women took indications from the men from their lives, and it felt right to him. There wasn't much left for him to change. Plus, they feared him, a lot more than those on the upper decks. Those had respect and he had to appeal to their pleasures, these wretched creatures had not, and all he had to do was appeal to fear. These wouldn't be the men and women to protect his back if bad came to worse, but he felt safer knowing, in case of some Chaos attack, those below would be grateful enough and afraid enough to refuse to answer even their Gods' calls.
And what did they have to be grateful for? For one thing, he had saved the lives of many of them, indirectly some would say, directly more would say. He had replaced the working, cumbersome, slave-labor machines from below, with automatic upgrades from the Tau, Eldar and other races willing to trade. He knew it was an affront to the written laws of the Imperium, but he figured if someone in high power would actually discover this, they'd either let it slide, or them or their moles would get a lasgun round to the head if they were stupid enough to come close to the contraption. Another reason to have these dregs on his side, licking from the palm of his hand.
He didn't do this out of the kindness of his heart or out of pity for them, though. Since he had installed the new systems, there was no more need for slave labor, no more ardeous paperwork, no more stupid meetings with glorified slave traders, and a lot more time was freed for Cain and his affairs and his pleasures. He had to of course fix the paperwork - some of his new friends, or blackmailees, as he affectionately recalled, would get these slaves under his name - for he didn't want to have to explain himself how his ships still run without manpower. They would have suspected xenos, or even demonic, and indeed he was close to purchase a demon-infused ship engine, but one look at it, at its malice, at the thrill of betrayal he had not seen remotely as such in another living being except himself, made him change his mind and hightail it from the meeting point fast. His three companions had become so dependent and subsidiary to him that they saw nothing wrong with him wanting that thing, and even if they saw what he saw, if he gave the go-ahead for the purchase, they wouldn't blink an eye over it. But he'd have to settle for the xenos purchases, maybe they weren't as long-lasting, reliable and... willing as the demon thing, but at least they were pieces of machinery, they weren't alive and trying to eat him the first chance they got, dammit! He had made these purchases to improve the ship, to improve their escape rate, their survival. If asked how they were so fast, he would claim the Emperor blessed them or that it was some arcane lost technology that was gifted to him. Fortunately, even if they got to the enginarium, few were knowledgeble enough to distinct the alien designs from the alien designs of human made things of old.
And so it was with this blessing that the slave crew had been set free, in a manner. Any other leader would have sold them off, for even more profit, but he didn't need the bother or the questions, and he kept the old human machineries in their former places, to be tended by Mechanicus priests, but to never be used in case of times of emergency. In such times, these wretches wouldn't need to be forced to go, to be whipped to do their job, they'd jump into the void if Cain told them for all he did for them. Besides, if he'd left the lower levels empty, they would have filled with dissenters, mutants and worse, without any knowledge or control on his part. And so they made improvised homes there, and he had told the enforcers up stairs to not bother the nice people down there, and they'd complied. At least, the raids were a lot fewer than on any other ship, and surprisingly, producing very few true criminals and dissenters than any other ship would. They'd live there and die there, and be grateful for their lives to him, for prelonguing their hell to the Imperium, he thought with a smile on his face and with scorn in his heart, for them, for the Imperium, for the whole stupid system.
He didn't as much felt sorry for them as for himself, feared he would be down there if not for fate or chance or... the voice... "You'll never be there" *gurgle* "Not anymore, not after..." Pause. He almost stopped moving and smiling and almost left himself go, almost wet his pants, his face almost turned white. Almost. He continued as if nothing had happened, but his heart was beating rarely, like a man holding his breath without realising he's doing it, and he felt a chill through his body. He willed his blood to continue pumping so the whiteness of his knuckles wouldn't reach his face and betray him - he didn't care about the thing that talked to him, it obviously knew, but the mortals around shouldn't have to - and his feet to continue moving and his smile to stay as fake and as fakeshily warm and kind as it was. "'ve gone so far." The voice ended, and his organism began functioning in earnest again. He looked behind him, and saw good old faithful (or just scareful?) Jurgen and wondered how come he had not protected him from this voice that was talking to him. It was certainly of the warp, wasn't it? Or at least, all things, loving or hating the warp in whatever measure, all hated being near Jurgen, let alone as... jovial as that thing.
But he did as he always did when confrunted with a situation like this: he put it out of his mind. It had worked to keep him alive and relatively sane until now, and he knew he was to react not to voices, his own, his comrades', or the ones in his head, but to those weird headaches and... visions of sorts. Those saved his life. He didn't care which were real and which were false, he cared only that each day lived was another one not dying. He did not want to-
"But you cannot", mocked the voice again. "I have told you before."
This time, there was no change in his body or mind, this time he just kept going, lower...


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