Balam took the opportunity to preen, making an elaborate welcoming speech in Gadolinean, a courtesy to the world hosting the auction, as custom decreed. His words were repeated in a babble of strange tongues, by interpreters brought from each of the other planets. Kylar spoke a few words of Naritean and he was amused to hear the garbled translation of Balam’s words by the alien creature next to him. If the other translators were equally incompetent, their host would have a full-scale interplanetary war on his hands by the end of the day.
Balam turned the proceedings over to the auctioneer, a two-headed being from Tranzery 6. A hermaphrodite, like all the beings from that planet, the auctioneer played up his/her unique physical composition to the hilt. One head sported a full beard and bushy moustache, while the other had flowing green hair, scarlet cheeks and mouth, and long purple eyelashes. The male head, the one with the booming voice, called out the bids in rapid fire while the female tossed her head and batted her eyes, flirting and teasing, baiting and coaxing.
Between them, they drove the crowd into a frenzy on the first lot, a tiny female said to be from a planet Kylar suspected did not exist. Stark naked. Skin dyed the color of a ripe melon. Nipples pierced, each adorned with a trio of gold rings in increasing size. The auctioneer’s male head bent, taking the largest ring between his teeth and giving it a sharp tug. The female squealed in pain. The feminine head raised her voice over the cry, pointing out how easily this slave could be controlled. Bidding was fast and furious after that and the male head declared the Zolexian Haldor had encountered earlier to be the winner.
Kylar caught Haldor’s eye and his friend gave him a curt nod. Clearly Haldor had decided the man wouldn’t survive long enough to enjoy his new purchase.
Balam brought his merchandise out one at a time, never allowing the audience to see the next female until the one on the block had fetched the highest possible price. As for the slaves, they all seemed suitably submissive. Two of them were so docile Kylar suspected they had been drugged into a stupor.
The crowd grew restless; arguments breaking out between creatures from vastly different worlds, insults shouted by unsuccessful bidders. Balam changed his strategy, calling for Leto and Sori to join him on the hastily constructed platform around King Sigrun’s throne. He raised a hand for silence, waiting until the noise of the crowd died away before attempting to speak.
“Honored guests, I bring you now a very special lot, the one that has led many of you to make the perilous journey here through multiple Portals. Four Gadolinean females.”
Sori escorted the first of them to center stage. A young girl, barely out of her teens. Kylar didn’t recognize her, but he was proud nevertheless to see that she stared defiantly at the crowd, despite her nakedness. A true Viking woman, strong and unbowed. Her lush body drew lewd hisses from the Jamrons crowded together at the edge of the platform.
Bidding was brisk and a stooped old man with a gray beard from Lextron won the right to take her back to his planet. No doubt he hoped her youth would reawaken the fire in his wizened manhood.
She was whisked away and Leto and Sori led two more naked women to the center of the platform. Kylar heard a harsh cry from somewhere behind him at the same time that he recognized one of them as Signe. He knew it was Gunnar, facing the reality of seeing his beloved wife there on the auction block. He could only imagine the combination of rage and helplessness Gunnar felt, listening to the crude reaction from the crowd. He wasn’t certain, but he thought the other woman might be the one Elwen called Irna, the tavern wench.
“These two will be sold together. They have been trained to put on a show for their master, guaranteed to heat even the blood flowing through the veins of an ice-dwelling Valan hermit.”
A sharp command from Sori had the women turn and face each other. The crowd went wild as they reached out, stroking each other’s breasts, running their hands up and down each other’s bodies.
Pandemonium broke out. Raucous cheers, lewd grunts, and moans. A dozen hands shot up, shouting bids. Kylar backed his way through the crowd to put a restraining hand on Gunnar’s arm, fearing that he’d jump into the fray. Gunnar shook him off but Kylar could feel the tension radiating from his body with the effort it took to stand and watch while the woman he loved was put on display as a shameless slut.
With all the noise, Kylar risked a single low word. “Drengr,” the ancient Norse word that encompassed all that a Viking warrior was or ever sought to be. Brave. Valiant. With the strength to do what is right, no matter what the cost. He knew Gunnar would understand. No matter how hard it was to stand and watch, they couldn’t risk showing their hand yet. Not until all the women had been brought out and the king stood in front of the assembled crowd.
The gavel banged. Signe and Irna were sold to the harem of a Valan monarch. Silence fell over the crowd. They all knew there was but one female left.
* * *
Talia panted for breath, chest heaving, but didn’t flinch when the auctioneer’s rough hand pinched her bare nipple, twisting it cruelly between two fingers. She’d learned by now not to cry out or resist in any way. It would only make things far worse.
“This one would make a particularly fine addition to any collection.” Balam’s voice seemed to come from far away. “High-spirited, still a little wild, ready for the right master to tame to fit his own—shall we say—unique needs and desires.”
She shuddered as Sori’s hand swept her hair off her shoulders while prodding her with a stiff knuckle in the middle of her back, reminding her to thrust her breasts forward as she’d been taught to do when being presented. She stood on the platform, naked save for an elaborate golden belt around her waist. It had been specially made for her, with a wide strap made of supple leather hanging from it that fit snugly between her legs, then narrowed and ran up between her bottom cheeks, leaving her ass bare. She’d endured several highly invasive and humiliating fittings for it over the last two days. Although at this point that seemed mild in comparison with the other torments she’d been subjected to.
“Note the golden mantle. It has been eons since we featured one of these at an auction. A sign that this female has not been used. Ever. Her trainers have examined her and guarantee it.” He waved a hand and Sori unfastened the belt, letting it drop to the floor with a dramatic thud. “You can be first to sample this fresh human pussy. A virgin.”
Balam might as well have dropped a live Iridian warhead into the middle of the crowd. Their reaction wouldn’t have been any less dramatic. Talia couldn’t help cringing in shame. Every eye in the room was now trained on her exposed pubic area.
Her eyes swept over the crowded hall, widening in horror. She’d never seen creatures such as these. Not in all her time with the InterStellar Federation. This world must contain Portals leading to other galaxies, populated by hideous creatures not spawned from the same DNA that seeded Earth.
Some had insect-like heads sticking up out of segmented bodies covered with an armor-like coating. Other beings shrouded their heads and bodies, leaving only their eyes exposed—their eyes and their penises, jutting arrogantly forward out of openings in their shrouds, like snakes. Writhing and twisting when they saw her, their ardor aroused. She lowered her gaze, afraid if she saw any more, she’d collapse on the floor, screaming.
“Turn around.” Though whispered, Sori’s command was still harsh.
She turned slowly and heard a roar of approval from the spectators. She flushed as she realized they were reacting to the red stripes still visible on her bottom from the strapping she’d received earlier. Sori held the mastodon penis high over her head. It whistled through the air, then landed on Talia’s bottom with a satisfying crack. The crowd cheered.
Something snapped inside her. Maybe it was the sight of all the hideous creatures who’d be bidding on the right to own her body, to use it in any depraved manner they chose. Maybe it was the knowledge that it was her last chance to seek revenge on Sori. Maybe it was the thought that dying right h
ere and now seemed a far better fate.
Whatever the cause, it galvanized her into action. Talia twisted and threw her bound hands into the air, catching the penis in mid-swing as Sori prepared to deliver another stroke. Along with her greater muscle mass, she had the element of surprise in her favor. She yanked hard, sending Sori crashing to the floor. In one smooth move, she twirled and swung the mastodon strap, whacking the hermaphrodite auctioneer. One head roared while the other squealed in agony. The creature scurried away, leaving her face to face with Lord Balam.
He took a step toward her. She wielded the strap with all her might, lashing out at him, catching him across the face. He reached up and casually swiped away a trickle of blood from the cut she’d opened over one eye, then gave her that cold smile. From somewhere out in the crowd, she heard a low sound, growing and building until it reverberated through the room. A single note blown on an enormous horn.
He took another menacing step forward, even as she brought the whip down again. His arm shot out, grabbing her wrist. He twisted it cruelly, wrenching the strap out of her hand.
Before he could swing it at her, it was torn from his grasp. A tall figure in a hooded cloak batted him aside with one blow. Talia looked up. Another horrible creature from an alien world, wearing a wooden mask carved to look like a hideous demon. She raised her bound hands to strike at it, then stopped. The eyes behind the mask. Warm blue eyes. Had one of them just winked at her?
The creature reached for her hands and pulled her off the platform, past battling creatures from every part of the galaxy. It was as though the sound of the horn had shattered the thin veneer of politeness surrounding all the creatures, letting loose the worst of their aggressive natures. Mayhem reigned. She caught sight of Signe and Irna huddling in a corner and tried to head toward them. But her rescuer bent down, picked her up, and tossed her over his shoulder. Holding her firmly right at the curve where her naked bottom met her thighs with one arm, he slashed at anything that came near with a lethal-looking dagger in the other hand.
Over the din she heard a cry. “Gunnar!”
She raised her head enough to catch a glimpse of Signe being confronted by another huge figure in a cloak and wooden mask. Tossing the mask aside, he ripped off the cloak and wrapped it around Signe. Then the huge blonde picked Signe up as easily as if she were a babe and strode away carrying her in his arms, while two other cloaked figures cleared a path for him.
The man carrying her fought his way through the crowd. He bore her weight easily, as though her curvy six-foot frame was the lightest burden he’d hefted in a long while. Her head bumped against his back as he jumped over a fallen figure and ran through the Great Hall. Behind them, two other cloaked figures wearing similar demon masks carried Irna and Freya.
Despite the chaos all around her, Talia felt a flash of purely feminine irritation. Obviously their rescuers were Gadolinean warriors and she was grateful they’d jumped in when they did. But all the other women were being cradled in the men’s arms, rather than being in the ignominious position of having their naked bottoms in full view, bouncing up and down with every step toward freedom.
After all that happened, she hadn’t known she was still capable of feeling embarrassment. Why hadn’t she been fortunate enough to have a rescuer who was gentleman enough to at least cover her, as Signe’s husband did? Instead, she’d apparently gotten the ill-mannered oaf in the pack.
He ran through the courtyard to the palace gates, with the others on his heels.
“Fall back! Back to the fortress!”
The shouted command from the man holding her came as a shock. She knew that voice. She’d heard it the night she arrived on Gadolinium. Imagined it over and over in the fantasies that kept her sane while locked in her dark cell or tormented by Leto and Sori.
But this second meeting was nothing like the one she’d replayed over and over in her head. In that, they’d been formally introduced at a reception in the palace, with her resplendent in her burgundy ambassadorial robes. He’d taken one look at her and dropped to one knee, honoring her status as visiting dignitary from another world. Then he apologized for his rough treatment the night he’d grabbed her in the alley and begged her pardon. That was the kind of behavior she’d come to expect back on Earth. Polite. Genteel. Respectful.
She was jerked out of her fantasy when he unceremoniously dumped her to her feet in the middle of a street several blocks from the palace.
“Whew!” He pulled off the mask and swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, dripping with sweat. “Those curves must be packed with solid muscle. You weigh nearly as much as the lad I hauled off the battlefield in Osberg.”
She glared at him, furious. He pulled off his cloak and flashed her that grin she remembered so well. She reached for the cloak but before she could draw it over her to hide her nakedness, he tore it in two.
“I know you can run like the wind, but I doubt you could do it barefoot,” he said, kneeling at her feet.
Talia looked down at the tangled head of auburn hair, bent before her. Her fantasy had come true. But it took a turn when he lifted one of her feet and wrapped half the cloak around it, padding her from toes to mid-calf, then tying it securely with another strip he ripped from the cloth. He did the same to her other foot, then rose and met her eyes.
“You’ll be cold but at least your feet won’t be cut and bleeding.” He gave her another of those insolent head-to-toe appraisals. “We’ve got a long way to go but you’re well-padded. The exercise will warm your blood in no time.” Lifting the dagger, he slit through the rope binding her hands. “Come on.”
He turned and took a few steps, then stopped when she simply stood there in the street, staring at him angrily. “Oh, all right,” he snapped, sounding annoyed. He pulled off his thick wool shirt and tossed it to her. “Now can we go?” He jerked his head, pointing out a horde of creatures in the distance bringing their battle out into the road.
She yanked his shirt over her head. He was a good head taller than she was and it hung down to mid-thigh. The fabric felt rough against her skin and the sleeves were long enough to flap around below her fingertips. But for the first time in days she wasn’t stark naked, cringing in shame.
She wrapped her arms around herself, ran her hands down over the shirt. It carried a trace of the warmth from his body. And his scent—impossible to describe but instantly recognizable. She remembered that scent from the first night, when he’d pressed his body tight against hers. A trace of herb-infused soap overlaid with raw testosterone.
She breathed it in, then lifted her head and nodded. He grabbed her hand again and took off at a dead run, winding his way through the streets, heading for the distant mountains. Talia pushed herself hard to keep up with him, concentrating on the sight of his bare chest and back to divert her mind from the cold.
She’d never been in such close proximity to a half-naked man, let alone one who had starred in all her erotic fantasies. He’d already given her his cloak and shirt and all he wore were leather boots and loose trousers, made from the same thick dark wool as his shirt. The cold air didn’t seem to bother him. Judging from his sun-bronzed skin, he often went bare-chested. The sight of the smooth muscles in his back rippling as he moved fascinated her. His shoulder-length hair, held back by a braided leather thong tied around his forehead, whipped behind him in the wind, brushing against the broad shoulders that had borne her weight effortlessly at a full-out run.
He ran at a steady pace, breathing easily as though he could continue for hours. Finally, when the city streets were far behind them, she dropped to her knees, gasping for breath. Exhausted, half-starved for days, she had no strength left.
He stopped and bent to lift her head, searching her face. “Are you all right?”
She nodded once, unwilling to waste the air she was gulping by trying to talk. He gave her a quick smile. “You’ve done as well as any warrior today. The gods themselves would declare you a true Viking.” He looked up at
the sky. “It will be dark soon. I dare not risk heading up into the mountains. If one of us slips on the path through the pass and breaks a leg, the journey could take days instead of hours more. Stay here. Rest. I’m going to look for shelter. And food, if fortune will smile on us.”
Without another word, he vanished behind a large outcropping of boulders into the growing dusk. As her breathing gradually returned to normal, Talia took a good look around her. It was the first time she’d had an opportunity to take stock of her surroundings.
The planet seemed to be moving out of its cold cycle. No longer blanketed with snow, the ground sported patches here and there where tiny green shoots pushed their way to the surface through the dead brown grass mat. Silence reigned, save for tree branches bare of leaves rattling in the wind. She looked closer at the nearest one and saw swelling here and there at the tips, a promise of green leaves soon to unfurl.
The only spot of color came from the deep blue-green of a pine forest in the distance, covering the side of the mountain. She shivered and pulled her knees up to her chest, drawing the rough wool shirt over her bare legs.
Time passed. The warmth generated by strenuous exercise seeped out of her body, replaced by the chill in the air. Overhead, Gadolinium’s blue-white moon rose, casting enough light to throw shadow on the ground. A rustling noise nearby drew her attention. She froze, then let out a sigh of relief when her rescuer appeared.
“Come on. I found a small hollow below an outcropping of rock, like a cave. There’s a spring that flows not far away, coming straight out of the side of the mountain. I remember it from past journeys through here.”
His to Conquer (Alien Masters Book 3) Page 7