Zell laughed. “You are not just a scientist. You are also a teacher.”
She blinked several times. “He is truly good, Shabs. Don’t ever let him go.”
“I have no intention of that, my friend.”
Zell’s ears pricked at that, but he kept his suspicion to himself. At least the Master’s color had returned to normal. He took a deep breath.
“So, about love. There are different kinds of love. The first one a Human experiences is the love of their mother and father.”
“That’s in the Tribes, right?”
Zell nodded. “There are no fathers in the Sanctuaries, I assume.”
“Rarely.” The Master sounded wry.
“The next kind of love is that of the Tribe itself. Everyone loves children and takes care of them.”
Ssheyrra nodded.
“However, the kind of love we Humans have most stories about is the love between two grown Humans.”
That made the Master frown. “Humans? Do you not mean between a man and a woman?”
Zell nodded. “That is the most common kind, yes. But sometimes, a man loves a man or a woman loves a woman. It’s rare, but it happens. There are stories about that, too.”
Ssheyrra was taking notes, and Zell waited until she looked up again. “Many are sad stories because the love isn’t always mutual.”
“Oh.” Her eyes went wide. “I… that is a fascinating concept. I thought it would be always mutual.”
Zell shook his head. “Sometimes, much tragedy comes from thwarted love. There have been wars, the stories say. And it doesn’t matter if a man or a women gets scorned.”
“That explains much,” the Master said thoughtfully. “Maybe it even explains our choices.”
“It might.” Ssheyrra tapped her pen against her chin. “I will definitely have to think about that.” She suddenly straightened. “That might even be in the restricted files.”
“Possibly. I do not know.”
Zell looked from one to the other but neither of them elaborated that point. He simply stored that bit of information in his memory.
Steps behind him made him first look and then jump up. Girma stood in the door, leaning against the frame. Her smile lit her face when Zell jumped up, took her hand and kissed her.
“Yes, that’s love,” Shabs muttered. He stood. “We should give them time to heal. I think we have much to discuss.”
Ssheyrra reluctantly followed his lead. “May I return to continue our talks?”
“Of course.” Zell found it was really easy to smile at this particular Dile.
“I would be pleased,” the Master said.
Chapter 12
When Shabs entered their room a few days later, he was pale. By now, Zell was certain that this particular shift in skin color indicated anger or rage.
Shabs’ voice was very quiet. “All owners of pets have been ordered to come to the arena with their Choomans. We must go, in full formal attire, and restraints.”
Girma hurried to Zell’s side. “What is going on?
Shabs paced back and forth a few times before he lifted his head again. “An execution has been scheduled for today. It is meant to serve as example to all Choomans in town.”
Zell swallowed hard. “That means it will be dreadful, right?”
“Most likely. The… living dead belong to Ssasssal. While there is a standard procedure dictating some parts, the owner chooses the actual mode of execution.”
Zell closed his eyes, while Girma groaned.
“It is not your fault, Shabs.” Zell stepped up and put a hand on the Rraussha’s shoulder. “We’ll go and honor those Humans in their final hours.”
Shabs took a deep, slow breath and his color deepened as he calmed a little. “Maybe that is a good way of looking at a bad thing. I wish I could change our society. But right now… we have to endure.”
Girma went and hugged him. “Do not feel guilty for what Ssasssal is doing.”
“I simply wish you didn’t have to see it. It’s Diles being at their worst.”
Zell was surprised that Shabs used the Human name for their race, but it made a lot of sense. “I have heard a lot of stories, Shabs. Her choices won’t surprise me.”
It was a very dejected group that left the house a little later. Zell and Girma wore their collars as well as their belts, and had their hands tied to them. The aircar dropped them off at the arena, with Shabs holding their leashes. Quickly they were ushered into one of the doors, walking past lines of male Diles who ogled Girma and hooted at Zell.
When they were given place numbers and shown to a row of seats near the arena floor, Zell was sorry to have his estimate of Shabs’ rank confirmed. It meant they would be close to the stage.
Drums were playing, Diles were mingling in the higher rows, and vendors were hawking refreshments. The whole atmosphere was that of a festival, which turned Zell’s stomach.
“You’re supposed to sit on either side of me,” Shabs said quietly. After they found their places, he tied their leashes to a ring inserted in the back of the seats.
The arena was larger than he thought, for which he was grateful. A raised stage in the middle held two metal frames, complete with shackles. To the left and right of them, two large boxes contained material and implements, Zell thought, but made his mind veer away from imagining what they could be. High in the air, some carrion birds circled, as if they anticipated a feast.
Zell wished he could hold Girma’s hand, but there was no way at all to do that, with Shabs between them and their hands tied.
After a final drum roll, silence fell. The many voices hushed as Diles scrambled for their seats.
Zell bit his lips as the two Humans were led into the arena, with two leads each on their collars. The Diles dragged them to the platform. He could see they were a man and a woman. With a start, he noticed that large screens high up in the arena showed the scene and zoomed in on their faces.
Both looked scared and pale.
As they stepped up on the platform, jeering filled the stadium. Soon, they were shackled to the frames, the woman on her back, the man on his stomach. Their legs were spread, and the screens zoomed in on her female parts and then moved to her anxious face to hoots from the spectators.
Zell frowned, not quite understanding the purpose of this arrangement. Realization dawned as two lines of male Diles formed in front of the platform.
“This is one of the few opportunities for poor male Diles to find sexual release,” Shabs said in a very low voice. “There are others, but demonstrating sexual prowess and strength in public might get them noticed favorably, so this is a favorite. There has been a lottery earlier today, and these are the winners. There can be up to twenty per… living dead.”
Zell was certain Ssasssal had gone for the maximum number. He swallowed.
A new drum roll sounded, and the first two Diles from the waiting lines surged up on the platform. Within moments, they were humping away. The camera circled around, showing the delighted, ecstatic faces of the Diles. The woman cried out once, a sound that was followed by raucous cat calls from the stadium ranks. The man had closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
Zell was surprised by how little both struggled. Were they drugged?
The Diles were taking their time, thrusting and straining until their bodies finally tensed and relaxed in a release. They dropped back, and new Diles from the lines took their places, their members ready and proudly displayed before they reached the top of the stairs. Zell managed not to watch the screens. Instead, he took his mind to memories of swimming in lakes and running in the forest.
He had no idea for how long the ritual rape had been going on when a long, agonized scream filled the arena. He looked up to watch a Dile withdraw his bloody member from the female victim, pumping his fist into the air. Applause rose in the arena and several Diles called out to him. The next Dile seemed to try and impress the spectators, as well, when he roughly plunged his organ into the bleeding woman,
eliciting more screams.
Even the man was moaning now, as he was used mercilessly by the Diles that had drawn his number. Blood was running down his legs.
Zell looked away again. There were still too many Diles in the waiting line. He wondered if the two would even survive this part of the process. A part of him wished they didn’t, as he was certain that an even more gruesome fate awaited them. He saw the cold, green, merciless eyes of Ssasssal in his mind.
With an effort, he managed to focus his mind on old memories again, harvesting the sweet berries of the bushes in fall, the meticulous creation of snowshoes in winter. His breathing slowed down and he found some inner balance.
A drum roll brought him back to the arena. The line of Diles had disappeared, and it seemed that this part of the display was finally over. Diles were busy unshackling the Humans from the frames and tying them to two large Xs made of wood that were lying horizontally on supports. Zell wondered why they didn’t use chains.
Both were obviously still alive but in bad shape, which the screens showed mercilessly. The woman’s head lolled and she had bitten through her lower lip. The man’s face was pale and blotchy, but he seemed to regain a bit of strength. He lifted his head and said something, and the woman turned her head towards him. A moment later, a Dile slapped him hard, and she winced.
As soon as they were tied securely, the Diles stepped back, taking the frames with them, and made room for three other Diles who walked up on the platform.
Zell was shocked when he recognized Ssasssal. She stepped up to the woman, leaned over her and said something. Then she pinched her nipples hard enough to draw blood.
Hissing filled the stadium when Ssasssal walked to the man, patted his belly, played with his member until it stiffened and finally dug her claws into his testicles. The victim’s scream echoed in the ranks and was rewarded with applause.
Zell closed his eyes and shuddered.
When Girma gasped, he looked again. The two Diles had inserted large rods into the Humans’ anuses and were pounding them in. They timed their blows so that the screams alternated, high voice and lower voice. Many Diles were laughing and applauding when the two Diles started varying their blows.
Zell’s stomach heaved, but he managed to avoid spewing out his breakfast. Next to him, Shabs was shaking. Zell tried to see Girma but she had curled up as much as she could without choking on her collar, her eyes squeezed shut.
“We are honoring them,” Zell whispered and forced himself to watch. “We are honoring their suffering.”
Next to him, Shabs sighed.
Eventually, the rods had been hammered all the way into the Humans’ bodies, and the Diles stepped back to let the camera drones film the scene. Blood was dripping to the platform. Both were gasping for breath, their hands balled to fists, their eyes staring blankly in mindless agony.
It still wasn’t over. The Diles came back and moved the large, wooden Xs into an upright position, taking away the supports. Then they attached cables to the rods, and another set of shackles and cables to the Humans’ wrists. Zell’s heart sank. The cameras zoomed in, with dramatic drum beats underlying the pictures.
Next to Shabs, Girma was throwing up. He was holding her head and had untied the leash so she could bend over. Some Diles in the row behind him were snickering. It took Zell all of his willpower to keep his stomach under control.
Ssasssal stepped up again, her feral grin visible even without the help of the cameras. She scanned the rows of spectators, and Zell felt a shudder when her eyes fell on him.
Two Diles came running with a large console dragging a massive cable. They put it on the platform, directly in front of Ssasssal. Then they connected the cables from the rods and the Humans’ wrists to the console.
Zell was trembling from head to toe.
Ssasssal stalked up to the Humans once more and grinned at them. She patted the man’s cheek before grabbing his member and twisting it viciously. He barely moaned from the additional pain.
She turned to the woman and slapped her. She slowly blinked open her eyes. Ssasssal dug her claws into her breasts again. Blood welled and the woman winced a little, but the crowd actually booed. Ssasssal flipped a finger and earned laughs.
She stepped back to the console and with a dramatic gesture pulled up a large lever, then pushed it down on the other side, closing the switch, letting electricity flow.
Both Humans arched their backs, threw back their heads and screamed as their bodies writhed in contorted agony. Smoke rose from their wrists and lower bodies.
Zell did lose his breakfast at that moment.
Ssasssal flipped the switch back, and the bodies sagged.
She walked to the Humans, and the cameras zoomed in again.
The woman’s eyes were open and empty. Zell breathed a sigh of relief. Her suffering was finally over.
The man, however, was still alive. His haggard face dominated the screen. He opened blood-shot eyes and rolled his head to look at the woman tied up next to him. He blinked a few times, and then a tiny, satisfied smile played around the edges of his ravaged mouth when he realized she was dead.
Ssasssal slapped him with all her strength, and his head flew back. She rushed to the console and threw the switch again.
The man’s final scream ended in a gurgle as life fled his tortured, quivering body.
The Diles in the stadium applauded and stamped their feet in appreciation.
Zell sagged in his seat, trembling to his core. He was drenched in sweat and more exhausted than after a long run. If he could barely tolerate watching the torture, how would Girma fare? He hoped he could console her later today.
Shabs heaved a deep, long sigh. Zell realized that his color had shifted again to dark with blotches and he gave him a worried look. Shabs closed his eyes for a moment.
“Pet lover,” a Dile hissed behind them. “You are a ridgeless pet lover.”
Shabs pulled Girma to him, nibbled her cheek, fondled a breast and then turned around, his color returning to his usual green. “They are good for pleasure, are they not? I like taking mine as often as I can. She loves a thorough pounding.”
The Dile laughed and slapped his knees, a grin wiping the disdain from his face. “Good for you.”
Shabs nodded at him and then turned back to Girma, putting a hand on her shoulder. She snuggled up to him, and he tightened the leash again.
Gradually, the rows emptied. Zell could see many Diles fondling female pets, obviously aroused by the spectacle. Many Humans, however, looked deeply disturbed.
“They must have deserved it,” Zell heard one man whisper. “I think they provoked their Mistress until she had no choice.”
“But didn’t you see that grin? She got a kick out of torturing them, I tell you.” The woman sounded scared. “I bet she’s already riding the next male while plotting his painful death.”
Zell agreed with that assessment. He wished they could go home, but Shabs waited until most spectators had left. Finally, he untied their leashes and rose. “Move,” he barked.
Chapter 13
Shabs took them to their rooms and just plodded away, looking dejected. Zell shot a worried look after him, but there was nothing he could do.
Instead, he went to Girma and pulled her into a hug. She took one deep breath, screwed up her face and broke into sobs.
“Oh, stars, Zell,” she cried. “How could she do that to them? How could she enjoy causing so much pain?”
“Because she is a deeply twisted and disturbed person,” Zell answered after a while. “One who has the power to do as she pleases with a Human.”
“But the Diles loved it, too!” Her sobs grew wilder and she clung to him. “They applauded her.”
Zell sighed. “It’s just entertainment for them.”
“Why?”
“That’s what they grew up with. They don’t know better. They never learned to care for a Human. We’re just like harebits to them.”
Her sobs stopped, bu
t her eyes were deeply haunted. “I’m scared, Zell. That Dile wants revenge. She wants us in that arena, on the stage. You and me.”
He nodded. “Shabs will do his best to protect us. He’s more powerful than she is.”
“I hope.” She shuddered.
He hugged her tightly. “I need a shower, to wash it all off. I would love to take it with you.”
“I think I’ll like that.”
The warm water helped Zell to relax. Soaping Girma and scrubbing her back made it possible for him to center himself and focus on being with the girl he loved. He kissed her wet breasts.
“I want you,” Girma whispered. “I want you now, as hard as you can. I need to feel you inside me.”
Zell found a sob rising in his throat. For once, it was a challenge to make love, while his thoughts were filled with pain and death. With tears in his eyes and the woman’s blood in his mind, he pulled Girma to him, held her tight and willed his member to rise. She clawed his back and bit the base of his throat, and that tiny flash of pain unleashed his full strength. He felt himself harden immediately, and he grabbed her buttocks.
“Hard?” he asked, making sure. “Really?”
“Yes.” She growled and bit him again, almost drawing blood, and that stung him into action. He thrust into her, lifting her off her feet with his push, crushing her against the wall. He held her there with his hands around her waist, pounding her well, turning his anger, frustration and shock into movement, into heat, into power.
She cried out, and he froze for a second. What was he doing?
“More,” she gasped, hooking her hands into claws, grasping his shoulders, throwing back her head. “More.”
So he took her, thrusting into her hard, his desperate member full of need, his mind filled with images of terror and pain. When he shuddered into his release, those images finally melted away. Girma was still moaning and gasping, and so he replaced his slacking member with his fingers and thumbs, rubbing and thrusting, until she cried out again and rocked her own release, dancing on his fingers and sobbing at the same time.
Captive Page 6