Tribute: Captives of Kazir

by Sophie Kisker

  He turned abruptly and walked away from the bed, over to the window. She wanted to watch him, to see what he did when she wasn’t around, desperate to know more about him. But exhaustion hit her, and she melted away.

  15

  Mena

  She slept through the afternoon and when she woke, he was sitting at the table under one of the large windows, his back to her. A small hologram of another alien glimmered on the table. This one’s skin was gold, and he was wearing the same kind of cloak her master had been wearing when he’d purchased her, only this cloak was blue.

  The restraints on her arms were loose, so she sat up. The hologram turned to look at her.

  “Mik'kal,” the hologram said, “your slave is awake.”

  Her master glanced back at her and returned to his conversation.

  “Thank you, Senator. I will consider your proposal and get back to you.”

  “Thank you for your service.” The hologram bowed and disappeared.

  So, her master’s name was Mik'kal. She stored that information away, feeling a tiny triumph knowing something he didn’t want her to know.

  “How are you feeling? Sore?” He’d swung his chair around to face her.

  She gave an experimental squeeze. “Actually, no.”

  He nodded. “Good. I rubbed some of that numbing cream on you after you fell asleep.”

  Her eyes widened. “You touched me while I was asleep?”

  A dark expression took over his face. “Yes, Mena. I have the right to touch your body anywhere and anytime I want to, and I don’t need your permission.”

  “Y-Yes, sir.” Her breath hitched at his words. “Yes, sir, I just meant I can’t believe I didn’t wake up. Um, thank you for doing that.” He nodded and his face relaxed.

  He dropped the cushion on the carpet. “Over.”

  With resignation she slid off the bed, walking as slowly as she dared toward the hated item. She draped herself over the curved surface, gritting her teeth, her eyes shut tight, and waited, torn between fury and fear as the strap closed firmly over her back. Though it didn’t surprise her, she still jumped when she felt his hand on her butt, stroking gently.

  “I can’t decide if I love the dark circles of the paddle ,or the purple lines of the cane more.”

  She let out a sob. He was doing it again—turning the words she used to find so arousing into something dark and miserable. The sound of wetness as he swiped a finger through her folds just made it worse.

  “I see your mind and body are fighting again.” His tone was soft and gentle, and she hated it. She hated him.

  “Just do what you’re going to do!”

  There was a pause. “Very well.”

  Warm wetness that dribbled onto her small hole told her what he had planned. She grunted with discomfort as he pushed the first ball of the trainer in, then the second. The third started to burn, the fourth hurt enough to make her cry out, and then the fifth pressed against the circle of muscle already agonizingly stretched wide.

  “Cooperate with me, slave, and this will go much easier.” Any pleasantness was gone. She pushed, if only because she knew that was the only way it was going in, and screamed as it forced itself past the ring.

  “I’m splitting apart!”

  “No, you’re not, and I don’t really care how much it hurts.”

  “Bastar— Ahh!” His finger found her clit and she went from agony to ecstasy so fast she lost her breath. “God, no, please…!” She trailed off, wanting him to stop, not wanting him to stop, unable to sort out the sensations she was feeling. Lightning bolts of pain crashed through her mind, alongside spiraling tornadoes of pleasure. She flung her head up and down as her feet kicked the floor behind her.

  The finger withdrew. The fiery pain was still there, but he wasn’t pushing anything in, and she was glad for the moment’s break, to let her mind process what was happening. She took quick breaths, trying to relax the rest of her body, then tensed as she felt his touch.

  “Shhh… you did very well.” The gentleness was back in his voice, throwing her off. “The one that’s as big as me is inside you. That happened a lot faster than I expected.”

  It was? She felt an absurd flash of pride. But if that threshold had been crossed, it meant she was ready for him.

  She felt a tug. “No, please…” she whispered.

  “You want to leave this in?”

  “No, of course not, but once you take it out…”

  “Yes. Once I take it out, you’ll be ready to accept me. I might fuck you now. I might fuck you later. Whose decision is that?”

  “It’s your decision, sir,” she whispered, her traitorous pussy pulsing and clenching.

  “Correct answer. See? Humans can be tamed.”

  A day ago—even this morning—she’d have let loose with a string of expletives. It was barely the middle of the day, and she was too tired to protest. He was right; she could be tamed. He had certainly taken her from free woman to broken slave in two days.

  “I think tomorrow will be the day. In the meantime, I want you to wear something that’s going to make this easier.”

  “Oh, no…”

  She felt the unmistakable cold hardness of a butt plug, and she bore down. It slipped past her ring, wrenching a screech out of her. She hated butt plugs. But wearing one was probably a good idea if she was going to be fucked there tomorrow.

  He had more work to do, and she could see he wasn’t sure what to do with her. This is why owning a slave is harder than just fucking and whipping! Regret it yet? Of course, he could just stick her in the closet. Better think of something else fast.

  “Master, may I sit in the window and look outside? I haven’t seen anything of the planet at all.”

  He considered, then nodded and motioned her over. When she approached, he flicked the wires so they lengthened almost all the way.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. He nodded again. She approached one window and stopped. “Can anyone on the street see in here?”

  He shrugged. “That’s a risk you will have to take if you want to sit there. I’m not giving you anything to wear.”

  She took a breath and walked right up to one, looking out at the street in wonder.

  “Master, what is the name of this city?”

  “Parthau Adal. Now be quiet.” He resumed reading.

  The windowsill was a little more than a meter above the floor, and the window itself rose all the way to the ceiling, probably five more meters. The walls were so thick there was plenty of room to sit on the sill and gaze out to the street. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, especially with a butt plug, but she wasn’t going to say a dang thing that might cause him to stick her in the closet.

  The street was wide, paved with flat black stones. Across the street was another building, made of the same light yellow stone every building on the street seemed to be made of. Lines of tall windows rose three stories up. A few of the windows had balconies that jutted out over the streets. The top of the building and one side were irregular, like there were stones sitting on top and attached to the sides.

  With a shock, she realized the buildings had been chiseled out of the rock. She looked around the apartment she was in, with its walls of stone, and it dawned on her that this place had been hewn from the rock as well. The street itself had been hewn right through the rock, like a mountain tunnel with no roof. The result was tall rock facings on each side, and the buildings had been carved from those. Sustainable architecture, indeed.

  Her window was just high enough from the ground that she could see over the heads of most of the passersby. Curling up on the sill at first, to hide her nakedness, she grew too interested in what was outside and stopped worrying.

  She stared in fascination at the sight of so many beings who were not human. Most of them walking by were like her master—Mik'kal, she remembered with a small victorious smile—humanoid, light brown, with all kinds of darker brown patterns across their body. All had long black hair, tho
ugh a few who moved a little slower had black hair mixed with grey.

  Other than the Kaziri, there were many of the willowy light green aliens, like the doctor. Aldanna, she recalled. Was that just three days ago?

  There were black ones with four arms, and white ones with four legs and two arms who reminded Mena of the centaurs of ancient Earth legend. Round purple ones seemed to need a floating transport. Maybe they were from a planet with less gravity?

  And children! Little four-fingered light brown children with long black hair walking with adults. She squinted but couldn’t see any patterns on their skin. Maybe it was something that grew in later. The youngest children on the human ship had been five, so when they arrived at their new home they would be old enough to be without constant supervision. It had been years since Mena had seen ones so young. They were just as adorable as human children, she thought with a pang.

  She stole a glance at Mik'kal. Would he breed her? Mena had always wanted children, even as a teenager. Would she walk alongside a little black-haired child someday? Would Mik'kal make a good father? A great wave of grief swept across her when she realized the answer was ‘probably not.’ She still knew next to nothing about him, save that he was capricious and cruel. Someone like him would have no use for a child. It might interrupt his ‘fun.’

  Once more, she wondered what everyone else was doing—the people who had been more than friends, who had been family, for ten anxious years. She didn’t think they’d been given apartments carved out of stone. If the attitude Mik'kal had shown was widespread, they probably would have been banished to that island and left to live or die by themselves. That wouldn’t be too bad since they’d expected and planned to start with almost nothing. Mena knew that even with her status of slave, she was lucky to be in a warm, sturdy building, with plenty of food. She assumed there would be more to eat than the stew. She hoped.

  “Mena.”

  Startled out of her thoughts, she turned to Mik'kal. He was standing close with his cock pulled out. At the sight of him stroking his stiff rod, her breath quickened.

  “Come here. I’m not in the mood to be gentle, so you probably won’t enjoy this very much.”

  With her heart pounding and an unbearable ache growing between her legs, she slid off the sill and dropped to her knees, her hands crossing behind her back.

  “Yes, sir.”

  16

  Mik'kal

  The long afternoon had been full of frustrations, and the only thing he’d enjoyed was the sight of Mena on the windowsill. But her nudity, framed by the stone casement, had been so distracting he finally decided he had to remove her from view. Though it was several hours until the sun went down, he pulled her stew out of the replicator and set it on the floor. Then he called to her, warning her of his mood. Frankly, he expected pushback. To his amazement, she slid off the sill and knelt at his feet. He used her roughly, thrilled at her gagging, before he erupted and almost collapsed to the floor when he’d finished. She dutifully dropped the cum over her stew and bent over to eat, and it was then he realized she’d kept her hands behind her back the whole time, even now.

  As she bent to eat, he took in the delightful view of her pleasure and breeding holes from behind, noting her swollen and glistening folds. A string of nectar dropped all the way to the floor.

  “Five micros!” He didn’t mean to be that abrupt, but he was going to go out of his mind very quickly. She finished with just seconds to spare. He wiped her mouth, then sent her to the toilet room, and finally pulled the closet door shut on her confused face.

  Now he could breathe.

  Having her out of sight didn’t help. He’d never found his work so difficult. A dozen incredibly boring reports and one completely unnecessary holoconference had him seething within two periods. He looked over at the closet door more times than he could count, his mind envisioning her long brown hair, her luminous skin…

  Her tears.

  This was ridiculous. This was why he hadn’t wanted a slave! He wanted nothing more than to plunge his cock into her ass over and over. Every resistance on her part delighted him. Every tear made his cock more rigid. The darkness was pushing inexorably into his mind, bit by bit, and it was beginning to scare him.

  He threw his datapad on the table and stood. There was only one thing that was going to help him get that darkness out of his system enough to concentrate.

  It took only a moment to pull on his BattleSim suit. He programmed his tablet to watch her in the closet and alert him of anything concerning. A half period later he was slashing his way through the enemy with frenzy. This time, they appeared as the Killi, a race who looked almost exactly like humans. He’d dispatched three with vicious swings of his sword and was about to run toward another ,when he looked up to see a Killi woman fighting a Kaziri just a short distance away.

  She looked just like Mena.

  Kaziri had been taking prisoners as slaves for thousands of years, and if this had been a real battle, he would have fought like hell to make her his captive. BattleSim, though, were more about releasing violence than taking prisoners, but as long as he paid a penalty fine for removing the player from the battle, he was permitted to do it.

  He was suddenly behind her, her attention taken by blaster bolts aimed in her direction from other Kaziri. In one swift move, he grabbed both her wrists and pulled them behind her, and her blaster dropped from her hand. He spun her around and she lost her footing, and suddenly she knelt at his feet with a look of fear and surprise. He stared at her face through her BattleSim helmet.

  She wasn’t Mena. Close up, she didn’t look at all like the slave he had locked away in his closet at home.

  With disgust, he dropped her arms, then stalked across the field of battle back to the entrance, dumping his helmet with a clatter on a table, and walking out the door. Shortly he was in an aircar, his anger unabated, his nirza in the background unsatisfied and restless. He felt out of control. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and one that was happening too often the last couple days.

  If that had been Mena, and if the battle had been real, he would have tied her up and tagged her as his property, then dropped her off somewhere safe. Once the battle was over, he would claim her, pull her clothes off, and suckle on a sweet nipple. She would cry out as she arched up, offering herself to him. And as his hand slid down to the warm wet cleft between her legs, he would tell her she would be his slave forever…

  “This trip is complete. This trip is complete.” The mechanical voice in the car was trying to get rid of him. Pulling his thoughts back together, he stepped out and looked up at the window of his apartment.

  How had this human gotten under his skin so fast? He hated humans! He’d voted to blast them out of the sky before they arrived. Now, he was not only responsible for their future here on Kazir, he was responsible for one stubborn and irrational human slave.

  When he got inside he checked the datapad to see her curled up in the corner of the small room, sound asleep. Good. He needed time to think.

  He stepped into the bath and tried to relax in the hot water. Despite the BattleSim, he was tense. He tried to meditate, to clear his mind—

  Then he made the mistake of looking up at the tree sculpture above him, and the memories of the morning flooded back.

  She was bound to the tree.

  Pleading not to be spanked.

  Struggling not to speak.

  Crying.

  He’d never tasted a woman’s tears before, but twice now, he’d tasted hers—full of fear, arousal, confusion, hate, and longing. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever put in his mouth. He wanted so much more.

  With crystal clarity, he suddenly understood why none of his previous relationships had lasted. None of the Kaziri women he’d dated had been submissive. He’d thought his nirza would be happy with his BattleSims, but his nirza needed more.

  He needed to control another being completely.

  He’d preached for years that his people could
turn their violent natures toward other things besides conquering planets and taking slaves. He believed his planet was becoming more and more civilized, despite the need his people still had to release violence. Now, he was facing the sober truth that in three days, he’d discovered in his case that was a complete and utter lie. Dirac Ortan had understood him better than he’d understood himself.

  He needed to dominate and punish another person. Be unyielding and harsh. Be in control of every moment of her existence.

  He’d never known what being alive meant before now.

  17

  Mena

  The night had been long in the dark, but he’d forgotten to pin her hands tight to her back, so she slept pretty well, except for the erotic dreams that swirled through her mind every time she closed her eyes. She barely managed to keep her hands from sliding between her legs, and she still didn’t know why she had held herself back, save that she suspected he had some way of knowing what she was doing.

  When he’d told her he was going to use her roughly and she wasn’t going to like it, something burst open inside her. Something that compelled her to drop to her knees, keep her hands behind her back, and open her mouth wide. She had definitely not liked the skull fucking he’d given her, and she absolutely hated the gagging.

  But she liked that she’d offered herself without hesitation and liked that she’d hated it. She liked that he expected her to obey, even knowing what she was in for. And none of that made any sense.