Enslaved - Book 3: Trek Mi Q'an

by Jaid Black

  She had gotten no further in her escape attempt than alighting to her feet when it occurred to her that she was completely naked. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath as her hands instinctively raised up to shield her breasts, “now what do I do?”

  Marty was given no time to answer her own question for the door slid open a moment later, revealing the brunette who had saved her from the killer plants as well as two more hulking female giants garbed in the same black leather at her side. All three women were possessed of neon-pink eyes.

  Marty bit down on her lip and began to slowly back up.

  The brunette held up a palm as if sensing Marty’s fear. Her voice was deep but soft, as if trying to coax her into calming down. “Gyat mekka ph’im.” We mean you no harm.

  Marty felt tears gathering in her eyes, partly from frustration because she had no idea what was being said to her, and partly from fright. She’d never seen women so huge. She’d never seen men so huge. And she’d certainly never seen anyone with neon-pink eyes.

  She had no clue as to what was going on, but she knew that something beyond her understanding had happened. These women were real—very real—and they were definitely not in costume. Besides, she hesitantly conceded, nobody could make their eyes change to a glowing pink. Such was not possible on earth in 1967.

  “Gyat mekka ph’im.”

  The brunette’s eyes softened as she repeated her foreign words. She looked away from Marty and glanced toward the equally gigantic females accompanying her—women who toppled Marty’s five foot six stature by a foot and a half apiece—and motioned for one of them to come forward.

  Another brunette strode forward from the group of three, a black leather outfit and blue shimmering rings in her hand.

  Marty’s eyes narrowed in confusion—then widened in comprehension. Her lips pinched together in a frown. “Forget it.” Her hand slashed definitively through the air. “I’m not wearing that outfit. And,” she ground out, “nobody is piercing my nipple and navel.”

  The three giant women looked toward each other, then back to Marty. The brunette wielding the black leather and blue rings inched forward slowly, like a snake stalking and attempting to mesmerize its prey.

  Marty’s nostrils flared indignantly. This was just too much. “No!”

  The brunette inched closer.

  “I said no!”

  The brunette drew frighteningly closer, inducing Marty to have to crane her neck to look up at her. “I. Said. No.” Each word was bit out through set teeth. She couldn’t believe she had the nerve to tell these women no to anything, but there it was. Her look was haughty as she swept a hand about. “Begin as you mean to go—ooooon.”

  Marty screeched as a pair of large female hands seized her by the shoulders and plucked her from the ground like a doll.

  The brunette grinned, her eyebrows wiggling insolently as if she was daring her wee captive to do anything about it.

  Marty’s nostrils flared, knowing as she did that she’d been bested. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she growled out the only word that came to mind.

  “—Arrg!”

  * * * * *

  It had only been three weeks since Flora, Gardinia, and Tulip had rescued her from the toxin that the plants had pumped into her, but already Marty was very fond of their companionship. She found it amusing that three such hulking warrior women had been named for what amounted to flowery plants back on earth, but she had never mentioned as much to her large friends.

  Besides, she conceded grimly, Tulip was extremely sensitive and given to bursts of temper. There was no point in needlessly angering a woman who toppled her by eighteen inches and outweighed her by a solid two hundred pounds of pure muscle.

  Definitely not groovy.

  Marty smiled to herself as she strolled over to where Tulip was standing, overseeing small naked men who labored with extremely sharp hoe-like objects to dig through the blue gemstone ground in order to get at whatever lurked beneath it. Well, she silently admitted, the men weren’t exactly small. Back on earth they would have been considered rather large at around six feet in height and two hundred pounds apiece. But next to the women who oversaw their work, they had the appearance of weaklings.

  It hadn’t taken Marty long at all to figure out that she was no longer on earth. She’d read science fiction novels in her teens and she had known some of the leading theories about the possibility of life on other planets. The idea had taken her a day or two to get used to, but when faced with so many oddities she knew couldn’t possibly exist back on earth she had actually given little mental resistance to accepting her fate.

  For better or for worse, she now understood that she lived on the planet Tron in the matriarchal sector of Wani. She also understood that things were far different here than they had been back home. In this slice of the galaxy, for instance, it was females who ruled and males who did their bidding.

  Definitely groovy.

  And yet, definitely not.

  When Marty had fought and protested for women’s rights back home, she had done it with the ideology of equal rights for one and all in mind. She had never done it in hoping to subjugate men to women as was the custom of the Wani.

  She sighed. There was no convincing Flora, Gardinia, and Tulip of anything. The only thing Marty could be thankful for was that, regardless to her comparatively small size, the female warriors of the sector treated her as one of their own merely by virtue of her gender.

  The women of Wani had rescued her, fed her, clothed her—if one could call it that!—and indoctrinated her into two tongues previously foreign to her. By the mere laying on of hands and ten seconds worth of chanting, an elder brunette mykk, the Wani version of a shaman or priestess, had gifted Marty with the ability to understand both the language of the sector as well as the newly adopted language of Tron as a whole, which they referred to as Trystonni. The fact that the mykk had been able to do so to begin with had only further confirmed in her mind that she was no longer on earth.

  “Greetings, Tulip.” Marty’s silvery eyes sparkled as she grinned up at her friend and conversed with her in Wani. “How do you fare this day?”

  Tulip grunted as she smacked one of the naked men laboring with the gemstone ground on his muscled rear. “Greetings, Mari.”

  Mari. The word not only meant “little one” in Trystonni, but the warrior women of Wani seemed unable to phonetically pronounce the English version of the letter T, which had resulted in her being christened Mah-ree.

  Tulip sighed. “I’m of the mind to sample of this laborer’s charms, yet is there much work that needs to be accomplished before the moon-rising.” Her sleekly muscled arm snaked around the laborer from behind and she began to absently stoke his penis, causing the smaller male to softly moan. The look on her face grew worried. “The mykk has had a vision.”

  The seriousness of Tulip’s expression caused Marty to forget about her embarrassment of watching the warrior woman masturbate a naked man and concentrated instead on her words. “What sort of vision?”

  Tulip’s neon-pink eyes were troubled. “My elder sister Flora was present when the vision overtook the mystic. The mykk claims that trouble shall reach our sector before a fortnight passes.”

  “More insurrectionists?” Marty murmured. Flora had already apprised her of the three previous occasions during which rebels had tried to overthrow the women’s rule in Wani. All three times the female warriors had bested them, ousting them from the village but days later. It was the stuff of legends amongst their Scribes.

  “I fear not.” Tulip sighed, her hand working up and down the length of the male laborer’s shaft more briskly. His groans became louder, indicating that he was about to orgasm. “The mykk senses a threat far more powerful, but from what she cannot say.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Nay. ‘Tis anything but.”

  The laborer spewed a moment later, his entire body shuddering as he came on a groan. That quickly Tu
lip forgot him and turned to give Marty her full attention.

  Her glowing pink gaze surveyed Marty’s entire body, from the black combat boots she wore, to the thatch of honey-gold curls between her thighs which was exposed by the black leather strips that made up the Wani version of a gee-string, to the breasts and pierced left nipple that jutted out from the cupless black leather bra donned by their people. “’Tis important that we ready as many fighters as possible. Your lessons in the warring arts shall commence after the noon repast.”

  Marty giggled, jumping up and down in her excitement. The shimmering blue navel ring she wore made a tinkling sound from the brisk movements. “Finally! I didn’t think you’d ever get around to it.”

  Tulip studied her face a bit sadly. “’Tis a wee one you are, Mari, but even the smallest amongst us can bring the mightiest to heel. Never forget those words.”

  Marty’s smile faltered a bit as she regarded her giant of a friend. She’d never seen such a sadness overcome Tulip, a woman who hardly ever expressed any emotion at all. That she appeared to be overwhelmed with grief made her words all the more disturbing.

  It made Marty wonder if the shaman had envisioned more than what Tulip had admitted.

  Chapter 4

  Kil’s eyes flicked about distastefully as he surveyed the blue-tinted landscape of Rock City on Tron. He was so besieged with memories, and so desirous of leaving this place, that it took him a suspended moment to recall that he had asked a question of the little man standing before him.

  “You were saying?”

  The smaller humanoid met his king’s gaze and continued on. “’Tis the women warriors of Wani who rule the sector, my king.”

  One black eyebrow rose up slowly. Kil found himself intrigued. He had heard rumors of a sector ruled by women warriors. He had not known until now that the rumors were true. “Do tell.”

  “Well,” the humanoid male stammered out, his hands clamped together and twisting to and fro in a nervous fashion, “’tis not much to tell I fear. The women of the sector have ruled it for thousands of Yessat years.” His next words were hesitant. “I think you will find much resistance at their hands do you try to change the way of it there. ‘Tis nigh unto hideous what they do to interfering men.”

  Kil grunted. He had no intention of changing their day to day living, but he needn’t say as much to the humanoid. ‘Twas no business of the little man’s. Nevertheless, he was desirous of making certain the Wani understood that whether they had a care for it or not, he was now their king. They would pay unto him allegiance and taxes. They would harbor no insurrectionists in their midst. ‘Twas all he had a care for.

  Leastways, Kil conceded as his glowing blue gaze assessed the weakling of a High Lord who stood before him, the women warriors of Wani might prove beneficial and skilled underlings. ‘Twas more than he could say for the soft men of this planet. ‘Twas no wonder insurrectionists forever plagued them. A weak lot, the whole of them.

  “And ‘tis for a certainty that these wenches are not rebel sympathizers?”

  “Aye, my king.” The High Lord nodded quickly, his brow sweating. “’Tis a vow.”

  Kil inclined his head. ‘Twas good news to hear. It meant that his work on Tron would not be overlong. He could leave this bedamned planet the soonest. All he had to do was verify the words of the High Lord as truth and he could return to Morak—and his harem.

  Kil’s eyes clashed with the sector leader’s, inducing the little man to gulp. The scar on his right cheek twisted. “Give me the coordinates to the sector,” he rumbled out. “Now.”

  * * * * *

  “Hi—yeeee!”

  Marty shouted out the expletive as she jumped to the ground from her perch atop Flora’s shoulders. Armed with a bryyit, a silver gun-like mechanism that shot out liquid fire instead of bullets, her lips twisted in grim satisfaction as she faced down her make-believe seven foot tall holo-opponent.

  She was gonna get him. Oh yeah. The pig was dead meat.

  Growling low in her throat, Marty fell to the ground and rolled. Mere moments later, she shot up to her feet and aimed the bryyit at the holo-image. She pulled the unlocking mechanism and, in one swift move, charred the holo-opponent to a burnt crisp.

  The sound of applause from her comrades in arms caused Marty to puff up with pride. Grinning from ear to ear, she turned around to face them, bowing as if she’d just finished delivering a rather stunning theatrical performance.

  The warring arts, she conceded with a sniff, were pretty damn fun.

  “’Tis a fine job you did, Mari.” Tulip barked out the words, the pride in her voice evident. “Come. Let us make merry this moon-rising with drink and feasting. The morrow brings another day—and more lessons.”

  Flora grunted out her agreement. “Gardinia awaits us in yon pub. Let us be gone.”

  Marty nodded. Her expression was solemn as she spoke to her large friends. “Before we go, I want you both to know that I realize the debt I owe you.” She smiled. “The three of you saved my life. Come what may, I will fight with you to the bitter end.”

  Tulip slapped Marty affectionately on the back, causing her to grimace painfully. “You wear the rings of the Wani well, Mari. ‘Tis a wee warrior you are, but a warrior nevertheless.”

  “Thank-you,” she croaked out.

  From across the expanse of chipped blue gemstone ground, the mykk watched the trio stroll away. Her wizened eyes raked over them as they continued on to the pub, the lot of them in ignorant bliss of the events predestined to unfold.

  He would come for her, she knew.

  He would fight for her, she knew.

  And the female warriors of Wani would fight back to protect the tiny one amongst them. They could do naught else, for ‘twas their way. But they would not win.

  She sighed, turning on her heel to walk back to her cottage.

  Chapter 5

  Kil shook his head slightly and sighed. He turned toward his captain and paternal cousin, High Lord Jek Q’an Ri, and grunted. “These wenches think to fight us.”

  The look upon the king’s face was so surprised, Jek couldn’t help but to grin. “Aye, Mighty One, ‘tis also what it looks like to me.”

  Kil’s eyes widened incredulously. “Do they not realize we can fight them telekinetically as well as physically?”

  Jek stifled a smile, opting instead to make certain his zykif and zorgs were in place—for the fifth time in as many Nuba-minutes. Glancing across the blue gemstone battlefield, he fought to keep down a chuckle. “Mayhap not.”

  “’Tis war they want?” Kil shook his head, his mouth hanging open dumbly. He simply couldn’t believe it.

  “Aye, Mighty One.”

  Jek surveyed the opposition, noting that the warrior women of Wani had assumed a battle formation and were ready to strike. When he saw the crude, obscene gestures a wee warrior perched atop the shoulders of a large one continually threw towards their hunting party, he couldn’t help it. His face split into a wide grin before he broke down and laughed.

  Kil’s teeth clicked shut. He grunted. “’Tis ridiculous, this.”

  “Aye,” Jek chuckled. “If they would but let our scout draw near, we could inform them of the fact that you mean to let them carry on as they always have.”

  “But instead we must fight them in order to tell them that I mean no harm. ‘Tis ironic for a certainty.”

  Jek shrugged, still smiling. “Mayhap ‘twill be good sport.”

  Kil found his first grin. “’Twould be better sport if there were wenches amongst them we could claim as the spoils of war. But these wenches are nigh unto frightening looking.” He shuddered. “Should I take one of them as a bound servant, ‘twould be her that carries me to the vesha hides.”

  Jek’s body was shaking he was laughing so hard. “Aye, Mighty One.”

  The king merely rolled his eyes.

  The captain grinned. “Except, mayhap, for the wee warrior atop the over-large one’s shoulders. But then again, the
smallish warrior would spend her days throwing crude gestures your way. ‘Twould be necessary to thrust between condemnations.”

  Kil’s glowing blue eyes scanned the battle formation across the gemstone field until they settled upon the wee warrior in question. Inexplicably, his manhood hardened and his entire body began to tingle with awareness.

  He grimaced, thinking to himself he must be too long removed from the comforts of his harem if he was getting erect at the shadowy shape of a harridan woman who continued to hurl insults his way. ‘Twas a spanking that wee wench needed. Amongst other things...

  Nevertheless, the warlord’s attention had been snagged. That the wee warrior was cursing him out with every vile gesture and obscene word in the book, as well as ones she must have invented, didn’t factor into his state of arousal. He wanted her—his body wanted her.

  But what, he asked himself absently, did dildo breath mean?

  Jek raised an eyebrow. “Your Majesty?”

  Kil’s eyes scanned over the wee warrior again, his acute gaze honing in and settling on the nipples that stabbed out from her lush breasts. The sight of the shimmering blue ring that pierced the left nipple only made his erection all the harder. He wanted to flick it with his tongue, then draw the nipple into his mouth and...

  “Your Majesty?”

  “I want her.”

  The statement was simple and to the point. Kil realized, however, that his voice sounded hoarse even to himself. He cleared his throat, hating what the bound servant to be already did to his control. “I want the wee one.”

  Jek grinned. “’Tis war then?”

  Every heavy muscle in Kil’s body corded and tensed. He had never felt more exhilarated before battling. Not ever. “Aye.”

  Jek nodded as he clicked on his zorgs. The leather-like armbands fit over either forearm and had the ability to detonate various deadly and debilitating weaponry. He would not kill a woman, though, no matter her size. If it came down to needing it, he would merely render the Wani unconscious.