Desert World Savages

by Lace, Lisa

  She had to be smart. She’d play along but ask for something. Yes, the bathroom. They couldn't let her piss or shit on herself, could they? Having a plan in place calmed her down. She always felt better when she had a plan.

  Mr. Hunky came by her bed again, stripping out of disposable red coveralls. His hair was in disarray, strands hanging down on his forehead, and he had the saddest expression on his face.

  "What's wrong?" Tracy asked.

  He picked up the red suit and tossed it in the trash with a snap of his wrist.

  "Nothing you can do anything about," he said.

  "Why am I here?"

  "Because you got mixed up with some very bad men," he said.

  "Are you one of the bad men?"

  "It sure feels like it right now."

  "Hey," she said gently, "What's your name?"

  "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

  Even under the circumstances, the cliché made her laugh.

  "You might do that anyway."

  "Don't you say that, never that." He spoke with heat and looked suddenly very serious and even more distressed.

  "Hey, I'm just stating the facts." She wriggled her manacled hands in their restraints.

  "Gods help me," he said, turning away. "She's making jokes."

  "If you can't laugh, you're going to cry."

  He turned once more to her, his face a heartbreaking arrangement of compassion, rage, and frustration.

  "I swear, Tracy Walsh, I'll get you out of this one way or another. I just don't know how yet."

  Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Tracy thought she saw something more in his eyes than just concern for her. It was a strange thought to have in this weird situation. She blinked it away. Some other time she might be very excited about the promise she saw in his eyes—if he weren’t the S.OB. who’d drugged and kidnapped her.

  The nasty-looking, white-haired man returned.

  "How are they doing?"

  "The one called Carol is still unconscious, Dr. Grenta. The other one's name is Tracy. It seems the language implant is working."

  "So soon?" Grenta said with surprise. "Tracy, do you understand my words?"

  Tracy turned her head towards him. "Yeah, you jerk. I understand you."

  "Good," he said, unfazed by her insult.

  "And don't think for a moment that when I get free I'm not going to kick your balls from here to the sun."

  "That might be difficult, Tracy," said Grenta.

  "Why is that, you dirtbag?"

  "Well, the nearest sun from our present location is about ten light-years from here."

  "Ten light-years?"

  "Yes," said Mr. Hunky. "You are on a spaceship bound for a Kerdos mining station."

  "Enough, Cax. You don't need to tell them anything."

  "I think you people better start explaining things," Tracy said.

  Grenta snorted and ignored her. He touched a device, and a communications monitor turned on. In the picture was another unpleasant-looking light-brown man, and the man who’d helped abduct her and Carol.

  "We have good news and bad news, Captain. The bad news is that we lost one piece of cargo to cellular breakdown. She was unable to adapt to the conversion. But the good news is that both of the new pieces of cargo are at seventy-eight percent compatibility with the Kerdos genome. With conversion, we can bump that to ninety-eight percent, more than enough for genetic compatibility."

  "So we'll have a full cargo manifest," said the captain.

  "Yes, Jaal."

  "Very good. Jaal out." The screen blinked to black.

  What Tracy heard flashed through her mind.

  Cargo.

  Conversion.

  Cellular breakdown.

  Tracy didn't understand everything they’d said, but she understood enough to know that she was good and truly fucked. The bad kind.

  Chapter Ten

  "Put them in the tanks for tonight," said Grenta. "I'm hitting the sack."

  "Yes, doctor," said the man he’d called “Cax.”

  Tracy trembled involuntarily as the doctor walked away from the tables, his footsteps ringing loud and hollow against the floor. Her hands and feet were still handcuffed to the table. The only part of her body she could move was her head. She watched Cax turn in the direction of the departing doctor. He seemed to be listening intently. When the solid noise of metal clanging against metal faded to nothing, he appeared to relax.

  The metal walls around her looked like some kind of ship. That ugly man had some weird sense of humor, telling her they were light-years away from the sun. A cold chill ran down her spine. Where were they, exactly?

  Was she destined to end up a sex slave in some bordello or part of some sheik's harem? She had heard news reports of things like that, and Hollywood made good money from abduction movies.

  Because her life was so far removed from this kind of horror show or filmmaker's fantasy, the situation Tracy found herself in was almost too much for her to process. Making things worse was the talk of genetic conversion, which she didn't understand at all—biology wasn't her best subject in high school. Combine all that with being bound like a medical specimen to a lab table, and Tracy felt she have every reason to be very frightened. As adrenaline pumped through her, her head started to clear, and she came to understand that she and Carol were in the gravest of situations.

  Mr. Hunky—Cax—was staring down at her.

  "What's going to happen now?" Tracy asked him. Her heart was pounding. She wasn't sure if it was because she was frightened, or because of the way he was looking at her, drinking in her appearance as if he’d spent too long in the desert thirsting for water.

  He shook his head. "You really don't want to know."

  There had to be a way to get to him and leverage her situation so she could free herself and Carol!

  "I actually think I want to. Because that was some weird stuff the doctor was saying. A real font of humanity, that one."

  "That's the first thing you need to understand—he isn't human."

  "Well, no one who calls me ‘cargo’ would be!"

  She looked at hm and saw he wasn’t paying any attention. He was doing something with his hands on a panel under the view screen, contemplating whatever he saw there. Tracy didn't like him ignoring her.

  "Is Carol okay?"

  He looked over his shoulder at her friend then turned back to Tracy.

  "Yes, for the time being."

  "Why don't you tell me what's going on here, big guy? Because I'll tell you, being knocked out and tied up is not my idea of a fun date. I know some women are into that sort of thing, but me, I'm as vanilla as they come."

  "Vanilla?" he said, cocking his head to the side.

  "Yes, like the flavor?"

  "You taste like vanilla?"

  He moved closer to the table, staring at her body. He closed his eyes as if the sight of her was overwhelming. Cax touched her breast lightly with the tip of his finger and ran it down her side to her hips. Her skin tingled at his touch, sending shivers through her. She swallowed hard. Whatever was going on with Mr. Hunky, she needed to stayed focused on getting out of this mess.

  "Do you think you can unlock me?" Tracy said. "I need to use the bathroom."

  "Bath...oh, the convenience. You need to relieve yourself."

  "Yes!"

  "That is the least I can do for you."

  Cax unlocked the restraints on her feet and then her hands, watching her warily, like she might attack him or something. She pushed up from the table, swung her legs around and hung them over the side, then rubbed her wrists—they were red from the restraints. She looked him up and down. He was just as imposing as she remembered! Not only did he stand a good six inches taller than her, he had the broad shoulders and muscled arms of a man who spent a lot of time in the weight room.

  He put his hands on her waist. She breathed in sharply, head spinning with memories of what those hands could do. No man had ever touched her so well and s
o good. She’d ridden his hand until she broke apart.

  She shook her head to clear her mind. Focus, she told herself. This was a life-and-death situation. It wouldn't do to get all hot and bothered about one of her jailers, even if he was sexier than Brad Pitt and George Clooney put together.

  "Whoa there, buckaroo, what do you think you’re doing?"

  "Helping you off the table. Hurting yourself would not be in your best interest."

  "I can't imagine why a man holding me prisoner would care about my best interest." Disdain dripped from her words.

  His lips, his kissable lips, formed a tight, unhappy line.

  He lifted her and set her gently on the metal floor. Firmly, he spun her around to face a wall yards away and gave her a gentle shove. "See that blue sign above the door? That says it's the convenience. You said you needed to use it. When you're done, I have to secure you for the night."

  "You won't cuff me again, right?" she said in a warning voice.

  "No. Now go." He made an emphatic gesture towards the door.

  As she walked to the bathroom, Tracy looked over her shoulder. He was watching every move she made.

  "Damn it," she muttered. She wasn't sure if she was annoyed because she wanted him or because she shouldn't.

  The “convenience” did not look like a regular bathroom. A depression in the wall appeared to be a sink. But when she put her hands under the faucet, instead of water coming out, an electric sensation passed over her skin.

  A bench ran across the back of the cubicle, with a wide circle in the center. When she stood close to it, the circle slid to the side, and a faint but unmistakable odor rose from the black depths beneath it. She pinched her nose and fanned the air with her hand.

  "Whoa! They must eat a lot of fish here." For all she knew they were on a commercial fishing boat. She'd seen them on television, and they were huge. It wasn't a stretch to think that this ship had been co-opted to haul a more lucrative, human cargo as a sideline.

  Tracy sat and considered her options. Mr. Hunky was far too big for her to take on by herself. That was obvious. Could she find a weapon and hit him on the head with it? Once she had him distracted with pain, she'd keep swinging at him until she subdued him.

  Yeah, that was a plan. A plan that sucked, but it was the only one she had.

  Tracy headed back to the main room and looked around for a sufficiently heavy weapon with which to brain Mr. Hunky. All she saw were metal counters with machines sitting on them. There wasn't a single piece of clutter. Then she spotted a dinner tray of half-eaten food, complete with utensils. A knife would work.

  Her teen years of sneaking into her bedroom at night after curfew were finally going to pay off. She carefully approached the tray. Mr. Hunky was still intently watching the electronic displays before him. She reached for the knife with her back to the tray, her hand stretching out for the blade. But she misjudged the distance, and the noise of metal hitting metal, unmistakable in the cavernous room, made Mr. Hunky's head spin around.

  "Tracy," he said, "what are you doing?" He advanced on her quickly and yanked at her arms, dislodging the knife in her hands.

  Her heart started pounding. She twisted violently to break his grip. As soon as she freed herself, he had his arms clasped around her once more.

  She struggled and tried to smash her fists against him, but they landed on solid muscle that felt like stone. She cried out in fear and anger. She hit him again and again, screaming long and loud, cursing at him.

  He just took it, all of it, not flinching. Finally he grabbed her wrists again.

  "Tracy, calm yourself."

  But though his arms held back her blows, she still screamed, all her frustration taken out on this rock of a man.

  "You'll hurt yourself," he pleaded, which only enraged her further and powered up the force of her arms.

  When a final fierce blow landed, he pulled her close to his body and pressed her face into his chest. When she raised her head up, struggling in his strong arms, and letting loose another round of invectives, he crushed his lips to her mouth.

  Maybe he meant just to shut her up, but soon it was more than that. Cax pushed his tongue into her mouth, meeting hers, sliding against and around it, stealing her breath. He tasted exotic, like a nameless spice. Sharp, an intriguing food from a foreign land. She leaned into the kiss, and he caressed the small of her back with his fingertips, a light touch that sent tingles down her back and between her legs.

  He leaned into her, the bulge in his pants broadcasting how sexy he found her. She dropped her hand down there, stroking him through the fabric, groaning with thoughts of him inside her. He felt hard and as needy as she was. Tracy moaned as images filled her mind of him pumping her with his cock, filling her with every push and pull of his flesh in her.

  He pulled away with a rough jerk of his arms.

  "We, I mean I, shouldn't do this," he said.

  "Why not?" demanded Tracy. "Damn it! You seduce me, kidnap me, tie me up, scare me half to death, seduce me again, and now you're going to deny me the only pleasure I'm getting out of this mess?"

  He looked at her with a sad, guilty expression that melted her rage.

  "Tracy Walsh, I'm not allowed to do this, not now, not ever."

  "Why? Why not? You were perfectly willing a second ago. What's the matter with you?"

  "This was not my doing," he said miserably.

  "Well, you're part of it. And from what I heard, someone is planning to make a profit off me and my friend."

  "I'm sorry about that. I couldn't stop Bris from putting you on this ship."

  "So we are on a ship!" Her eyes filled with tears now that her original fears were made manifest with his words. "You're not really shipping us to some brothel, are you? I’ve read that rich men like to buy women."

  The man frowned. "On your planet, do males buy females?"

  "My planet? You're talking like you're from outer space."

  "Tracy, let me show you something."

  He switched on the screen that previously held the image of the creep they’d called Captain Jaal and pointed to a vast expanse of stars.

  "That picture comes from the forward camera of this ship, Tracy. To you, I am from outer space. And so are all the men on this ship."

  Tracy swayed with shock as she stared out into space.

  "Hell no," she said in a whisper, "I've been abducted by aliens."

  Chapter Eleven

  Tracy woke slowly, her thoughts muddled like thick clouds of fog. She felt the hard table under her again, but this time she was not restrained. When she opened her eyes, Mr. Hunky—she liked that better than Cax—was at her side, gazing at her hungrily again. It felt pretty good.

  "You're here." She smiled. Knowing that he’d kept his promise warmed her heart.

  "I said I would be."

  "Where's Carol?"

  "In the tank."

  "Oh." Tracy didn't like this, but she felt unharmed, and she hoped Carol was too.

  "Listen," he said with urgency, "we don't have much time." When he explained what she should do, she understood he was trying to save her from the medical procedure the doctor intended to perform on her.

  "Got it," she said. "I will follow your instructions."

  "And stay 'passed out' until I give you a signal."

  "Okay," she agreed.

  But he continued to stare at her, and then he put his finger on her nipple.

  "What a pretty color," he said.

  She blushed. She was not used to men commenting on her nipples! "What color are you used to?"

  "On my planet, they are brown."

  "Are the women on your world anything like Earth women?”

  He stroked her dark hair. "Not as pretty," he said, rubbing his fingers along her jaw. "Your skin is so soft."

  Tracy enjoyed the sensations of his fingers on her nipple, her hair, and her jaw. But she had to think of her survival. Though he seemed to be helping her, she couldn't trust him a hundred pe
rcent. She raised herself up on one elbow.

  "I thought you told me that you couldn't do this."

  He glanced down briefly then looked into her eyes again. "I did. But you see, I can't seem to help myself. There is something about you, Tracy Walsh, that makes me want you. And I want you more with each passing minute."

  "They say on Earth that the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

  "What is hell?"

  "It is a place of eternal torment for wicked people," she said.

  "Well, I'm not concerned about what happens when I die." He shrugged. "I'd rather enjoy life now."

  He bent over and kissed her, his arms holding her shoulders. Without thinking, Tracy opened her mouth, her tongue sliding across his lips. His tongue pushed forward and claimed her mouth. He held her so tight that she put her arms around his neck without thinking. He broke away and kissed her behind the ear, the warm wetness of his mouth on that sensitive spot sparking a fire between her legs.

  She whimpered then and swung her legs over the side of the table, hooking her left leg around his waist drawing him to her. Tracy reached down and put her hand on the bulge in his pants, rubbing it. He groaned, long and low, and she loved how the sound echoed in her chest.

  Cax drew his fingers down the length of her spine, sending more shots of pleasure through her. Putting her right leg around him, she pulled him harder towards her. She was wet and ready. Every part of her felt like it was on fire, and she had to rub her pussy against his cock.

  "Come on," she breathed in his ear. "Give it to me. I want you."

  He hesitated. "I can't. I shouldn't."

  "Do you have a wife? Girlfriend?"

  He shook his head.

  "Then no more of this 'I can't’ business. I don't care," she said. "Take off these damned pants," she said. "I'm tired of waiting."

  "So am I," he said. "Door, lock. Lights off," he called out, and all the lights in the room went out. They were in total darkness, so she felt his cock rather than saw it. She heard a sound like Velcro tearing, and he pushed his erect cock into her hands. It was huge and hard like steel. She circled her index finger and thumb around it; they were not even close to meeting. Tracy played with the head of his cock, rubbing her thumb on the underside.