Maryam

by Tracy St. John

  “You can’t.” Maryam strug­gled half­heart­edly as he looped the cords around each wrist and tied the ends to hooks on the wall, spread­ing her arms wide so she couldn’t shield her­self.

  He pat­ted her breasts hard, but the chas­tise­ment wasn’t pre­cisely slap­ping. The taps were play­ful, sting­ing only slightly. How­ever, the wal­lop of ex­cite­ment couldn’t be de­nied. Maryam arched, of­fer­ing her­self for more pun­ish­ment.

  Kels ig­nored the im­plicit de­mand for dis­ci­plinary at­ten­tion. In­stead, he looped an­other cord around her thigh. He tied that to a wall hook too, forc­ing her body to curl un­til her butt was off the seat cush­ion. He did the same with the other thigh, an­chor­ing the cord so her legs spread wide open.

  Maryam pulled against her binds. The taut cords were semi-elas­tic, but they stretched only a cou­ple of inches. She was tied so that Kels had easy ac­cess to her breasts, pussy, and ass.

  He stared down at her, a mus­cled be­he­moth siz­ing up his prize. “This is how you were meant to be. Open and ready for your mas­ter’s en­joy­ment. What I wouldn’t give to have a few toys to use on you right now. I could keep you tied up for hours. Days. Can you imag­ine it, Earther slave? Ly­ing re­strained for a week or so, kept pre­pared for my clan­mates and me to use when­ever the urge strikes us?”

  He opened his form­suit’s crotch and stroked the livid staves that leapt out. Maryam vi­su­al­ized all he’d said: tied naked to a bench, help­lessly wait­ing for her cap­tors to walk in and rut when they chose, day af­ter day. She groaned.

  “Please, Mas­ter. Mercy.”

  “No mercy for you, my cap­tive pet. Never any mercy for you.”

  He showed her how his fin­gers glis­tened. Then he reached for her, stuff­ing one in her rear en­trance. A sec­ond thick fin­ger, stretch­ing her to aching full­ness. His thumb brushed over her clit as he pressed in and with­drew sev­eral times. Maryam shouted as plea­sure zapped through her wom­an­hood.

  “Squirm for me, my lovely Earther. You can’t hide how you crave your mas­ter’s cocks in­side your tight holes. How you ache to feel me ram­ming into you.”

  “Mas­ter…wait…no…” His words fed the thrill that came with his rough han­dling of her open­ing and the teas­ing, barely-there touches on her clit.

  “Go ahead and beg. Try to es­cape. It only ex­cites me more, makes me de­ter­mined to fuck you harder. I plan to fuck you so hard.”

  Kels leaned over her, fill­ing her vi­sion with his hand­some, in­tent face. His smile hinted at cru­elty, and Maryam’s heart picked up speed. Anx­i­ety fed an­tic­i­pa­tion as he moved close, his fin­gers ex­it­ing so he could ad­just his cocks against her pussy and ass, pre­par­ing to take her.

  “Mas­ter,” she sobbed.

  “Slave,” he whis­pered and thrust.

  Her flesh was re­luc­tant, but Kels drove too strongly, too quickly to al­low for a hes­i­tant yield­ing. He em­bed­ded him­self fully with the sin­gle shove. Tor­ment filled Maryam, but it was ac­com­pa­nied by a rush of ec­stasy that brought her tee­ter­ing to the verge of cli­max. She opened her mouth to shriek, but only a rush of air es­caped.

  Kels held still, watch­ing her as she writhed, try­ing to some­how grasp elu­sive rap­ture that hov­ered out of reach. She felt his re­gard, his fierce study of her as she at­tempted to grind her clit against him.

  “There it is, the de­sire you thought you could hide. You’ve been aching for this mo­ment, when you’d be left with no choice but to ac­cept your fate. Now you are truly mine, with no thought but to sur­ren­der to me.”

  A part of her tried to re­mind Maryam this was only a game, a tor­rid scene they played. How­ever, an­other part ea­gerly grabbed Kels’s state­ment, be­lieved in its truth. She wanted him to claim her as his, to ride her un­til the re­ced­ing or­gasm rushed for­ward again and de­stroyed her.

  “I’m yours, Mas­ter. Do what­ever you wish to me.”

  His gaze soft­ened. Won­der lit his ex­pres­sion the sec­ond be­fore he kissed her.

  His kiss was deep, some­how gen­tle and de­mand­ing all at once. Maryam opened to it, sur­ren­der­ing all she was to him at that mo­ment. A sense of purest joy filled her, such as she’d not known be­fore.

  Kels kissed a line from her lips to her ear, where he paused to whis­per. “You have con­quered your mas­ter, my sweet Earther.”

  Some un­ac­knowl­edged hard spot in Maryam’s heart melted. A rush of emo­tion she dared not name over­came her. She could have wept in that in­stant, un­done by his con­fes­sion.

  Kels’s hips rocked, mov­ing him within her cling­ing sleeves, ren­der­ing their join­ing all the more pro­found. Then he shifted. The fric­tion against sen­si­tive flesh in­creased, the dou­ble full­ness dis­solv­ing sen­ti­men­tal­ity into some­thing more pri­mal. Maryam’s ev­ery breath ended in a high-pitched gasp, her core elec­tri­fied by ex­quis­ite con­tact.

  Kels wasn’t harsh, not at first. He wasn’t ten­der ei­ther. He pumped steadily, driv­ing into her with re­lent­less power that brought ev­ery cell of her flesh alive. Sparks flew with each thrust, build­ing the flames that were con­sum­ing her.

  Kels leaned back, kneel­ing so he could view his help­less slave as he as­serted his dom­i­nance. His mas­sive hands cov­ered her breasts, squeez­ing them so ex­cite­ment zapped from the mounds to her clit. The rougher he han­dled her, the louder Maryam moaned, over­come by the heady push-pull of pain min­gled with plea­sure. When she in­stinc­tively pulled against the cords, she was re­minded of how vul­ner­a­ble she was against the as­tound­ing beast claim­ing her.

  As ela­tion in­creased, so did Kels’s rhythm. His groin slapped against hers as he took her with greater de­mand. Small spasms clenched her tight around him, tiny pre­cur­sors to the cli­max inch­ing closer. Kels grabbed her hips and yanked her onto him­self with ev­ery in­ward thrust. His mus­cles corded, and his jaw was tight as he grunted, rut­ting her. His lips pulled back from his teeth, mak­ing him bes­tial.

  The sight of the man turned an­i­mal frayed the fi­nal ves­tiges of the con­trol Maryam didn’t want. The glo­ri­ous mo­ment ar­rived, when pierc­ing sweet­ness burst over her, dis­in­te­grat­ing all else. She dove into the cat­a­clysm, scream­ing Kels’s name.

  Great strokes of rap­ture rolled through her, eclips­ing all thought. For a glo­ri­ous eter­nity, Maryam frag­mented into motes of bril­liance, a clus­ter of stars in blind­ing white­ness. Sparkles danced be­fore her eyes, glit­tered in her slowly co­a­lesc­ing be­ing.

  “Again.”

  The growled word pre­ceded a de­ter­mined tug on her clit, and Maryam det­o­nated again. Plea­sure so in­tense it was al­most ag­o­niz­ing blasted her senses, roil­ing her in a tu­mul­tuous storm. A strain in her throat told her she screamed, but she couldn’t hear it.

  No sound but his voice, which com­manded her obe­di­ence even unto de­struc­tion. “Again.”

  As help­less to his will as the cords had made her body, Maryam suc­cumbed to a third burst of ex­cru­ci­at­ing bliss. Then the voice shouted in word­less tri­umph, and her vi­o­lent spasms were joined by an­other’s. Heat filled her where ec­stasy bel­lowed, drown­ing her in min­gled pas­sion.

  A weight, warm and heavy, drifted onto her. Soft moans filled her ears, and the weight shud­dered. Still, the brute drove against her, de­mand­ing her dis­so­lu­tion once more.

  An eter­nity later, Maryam blinked and stared into a soft cur­tain of black hair, which parted here and there to al­low her glimpses of the shut­tle’s beige ceil­ing. Her pussy pulsed half a beat be­hind Kels’s cock, their surges qui­et­ing slowly to­gether.

  It was per­haps five min­utes later when Kels hoisted him­self up on his el­bows. His face hov­ered over hers, and they stared into each other’s eyes.

  Chap­ter Fif­teen

  The devil
you know is bet­ter than the devil you don’t.

  Maryam con­sid­ered the old say­ing as she and the clan sat around the still-flat­tened bench seat, on which their lunch was now spread. If Pana and Der­gan guessed why the seat’s back had been low­ered, they showed no sign of it.

  They ate from the sup­ply of emer­gency ra­tions, which weren’t as aw­ful as she’d sus­pected they’d be. Pre­served ronka sand­wiches, fruit chips, and pick­led swala eggs made for a sim­ple but sat­is­fy­ing meal.

  Her thoughts were far from food, now that she’d dis­cov­ered it was palat­able. Again, the words rang in her head: the devil you know is bet­ter than the devil you don’t.

  The devil she didn’t know was a life as a hunted ex­ile. The un­cer­tainty of run­ning off to Ga­lac­tic Coun­cil space, damned to live in ten­u­ous hope that Earth wouldn’t at­tempt to ex­tra­dite her, grew more ter­ri­fy­ing the longer she con­tem­plated it.

  What of the devil she knew? Clan Kels was only meant to be a brief in­ter­lude in her life, but she was hav­ing to fight the idea of it be­ing more. Her mind kept cir­cling to the pos­si­bil­i­ties of stay­ing with them af­ter the birth of their child. Cer­tainly, their sit­u­a­tion was a pro­found one. Even with­out the drama that had been the con­text of their new­found re­la­tion­ship, Maryam be­lieved she knew what she was in for when it came to the three men. When she com­pared that solid re­al­ity against the am­bi­gu­ity of life on the run, re­main­ing on Kalquor with Clan Kels wasn’t cast in a bad light.

  Don’t pre­tend it’s just about se­cu­rity. The sit­u­a­tion is more than that.

  Fine. Maryam had con­nected deeply with Pana. She felt real af­fec­tion for Der­gan. As for Kels…

  A com­plete one-eighty. From en­emy to full-blown in­fat­u­a­tion. Love at first fuck.

  No, the sex had lit­tle to do with why she’d dis­cov­ered a sur­pris­ing at­tach­ment to Kels. It had been his vul­ner­a­bil­ity by the stream. His des­per­ate de­sire to fix what had gone wrong, or at least as much as he could at this late junc­ture. The re­al­iza­tion that de­spite his dis­hon­or­able ac­tions, there was a core of in­tegrity within. That sweet, whis­pered sur­ren­der in her ear as they’d made love.

  She had sev­eral months to sort her feel­ings out. To dis­cover if the pull she felt to­ward the clan was worth ex­plor­ing. To find out if they were all her heart hoped.

  A beep­ing filled the shut­tle’s cabin, in­ter­rupt­ing her thoughts. Der­gan left them to check on the in­stru­ments in the cock­pit. Maryam, Kels, and Pana watched and waited.

  The Nobek called from the open door. “Sen­sors are pick­ing up three Earther as­sault ves­sels and a bat­tle­cruiser pass­ing the moon.”

  “Any sign they’re slow­ing to take a look at the planet or here?” Kels sounded calm, which soothed Maryam.

  Der­gan con­tin­ued to study the read­ings. Af­ter a few sec­onds, his shoul­ders re­laxed. “None. They’re main­tain­ing course, chas­ing the de­stroyer.”

  “We might get out of this alive?” Sit­ting next to Maryam, Pana man­aged a weak smile.

  “Hush. Don’t jinx us.” She winked.

  He took her hand and kissed it. “For luck.”

  She squeezed his hand and kept hold of it as she re­sumed eat­ing.

  * * * *

  The dream was so fa­mil­iar, Maryam rec­og­nized it for what it was im­me­di­ately. Years of hear­ing a baby’s dis­tant cry while she slept in the deep­est of night al­ways made her heart ache, but it no longer plunged her into des­per­a­tion, as it had the first year she’d en­dured it.

  As al­ways, she dreamed she was in her home on Earth, the lovely colo­nial house she’d lived in when she was mar­ried. She stood next to an empty crib in the nurs­ery that had never boasted an oc­cu­pant.

  These days, Maryam re­fused to chase the baby’s wails through room af­ter room, try­ing to find her lit­tle one. She knew the fu­til­ity of it. There was no child to find, be­cause the child hadn’t been born.

  She’d learned to wait the dream out. Even­tu­ally, it would twist into some other noc­tur­nal fancy, which Maryam might or might not get lost in.

  In the mean­time, she headed for the nurs­ery door, not want­ing to re­main in its dis­ap­point­ing at­mos­phere. It was too easy to beat her­self up for her fail­ure as she stared at the spring-green walls and eter­nally wait­ing crib. Bet­ter to go to her own bed­room, sit on the bed, and ig­nore the cries un­til they faded.

  She reached the door in time to meet Pana, who was walk­ing down the hall. “I’ve got him,” the Imdiko cheer­fully said as he passed. He hur­ried on and dis­ap­peared through the door that led to the den.

  Maryam blinked. What was Pana do­ing in her dream? She hes­i­tated, won­der­ing if she should go to her room as usual, or in­ves­ti­gate whether any­thing else had changed.

  As she de­bated, the baby abruptly ceased its cries. A deep voice—Pana’s per­haps—re­placed it, hum­ming a tune.

  Un­able to re­sist cu­rios­ity, Maryam went to the den. She blinked as she dis­cov­ered Kels and Der­gan sit­ting on her couch, eat­ing pop­corn and watch­ing a bas­ket­ball game on the tele­vi­sion. Pana paced the room, hum­ming and rock­ing a small, blan­ket-swad­dled bun­dle in his arms.

  He glanced up to find her star­ing. “Do you want to hold him?”

  With­out wait­ing for an an­swer, he came to her, hold­ing the bun­dle out. In­stinc­tively, Maryam reached for it. A sec­ond later, she cud­dled it in her arms.

  A tiny, sweet face, his eyes bril­liant pur­ple, his hair a tuft of black on top of his round head, gazed up at her. The baby she’d waited so long for. He was there. He was there, and she was hold­ing him.

  A low hum filled the air, and the gor­geous vi­sion dis­in­te­grated. “No!” Maryam cried, sit­ting straight up in the dark­ened cabin of the shut­tle. She grabbed at empty air, still feel­ing the pre­cious weight in her arms.

  Her baby was gone.

  Lights came up, dimly so she wasn’t blinded. Der­gan was on his feet, star­ing at the locked hatch. Tight bands en­cir­cled Maryam, and it took her a mo­ment to re­al­ize it was Pana, hold­ing her close as he stared over her head at Kels, who’d been sleep­ing be­side her. The Dramok sat up and be­gan pulling on his boots.

  The dream slipped away, chased off by ten­sion. Some­thing was wrong. “Kels?” she whis­pered, shov­ing aside the aching loss of slum­ber’s fan­tasy.

  Kels stood, his at­ti­tude cau­tious. He watched Der­gan as the Nobek dis­ap­peared into the cock­pit.

  “What is it?” Maryam whis­pered.

  “Prox­im­ity alert. It may be an an­i­mal has wan­dered close.” Kels spoke in a nor­mal tone, though his alert de­meanor didn’t re­lax. “Put on your shoes, just in case.”

  They’d slept in their clothes as a pre­cau­tion. It only took a sec­ond for Maryam to slip her feet in her shoes. The next in­stant, she was glad they’d been so care­ful.

  Thuds against the hatch had barely be­gun when Kels dis­ap­peared from her side in a blur of mo­tion. He reap­peared in front of the hatch, a blaster in his hand and pointed at the ac­cess. Thun­der boomed, as if com­ing from in­side the shut­tle it­self. Maryam squealed as Pana stood, heft­ing her in his arms as he did so.

  Der­gan re­turned to the cabin, hold­ing a blaster as well. In an al­most ca­sual tone, he re­ported, “It’s an Earther squad. They must have been dropped off to in­ves­ti­gate while the ships went af­ter the de­stroyer.”

  Div­ots ap­peared in the hatch door, ac­com­pa­ny­ing the booms. Kels scowled, as if to ter­rify it into re­cov­er­ing its pre­vi­ously un­marred state. “Per­cus­sion blasters.”

  “Will they break through?” Maryam fought to not scream the words and suc­ceeded. Barely.

  “Yes, they will. We could use a con­tain­ment shield, but it wo
n’t hold for­ever ei­ther.”

  “We’ll have to make a run for it,” Der­gan said, watch­ing the hatch.

  “Pana, put Maryam down. Both of you, hide be­hind those seats. When I tell you to run, go as fast as you can and make for the for­est. I’ll be with you.”

  Der­gan nudged Kels to one side, re­plac­ing him in front of the hatch, tak­ing aim at it. Star­ing at the Nobek wait­ing for sol­diers to come through, Maryam de­manded, “What about Der­gan?” So help them, if they planned for the Nobek to sac­ri­fice him­self—

  “I’ll give you cover.” He glanced at her, and when she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “We don’t have time to dis­cuss it. Once you’re in the clear, I’ll make my es­cape. Af­ter I’m cer­tain they aren’t fol­low­ing you, I’ll join you as fast as I can.”

  The hatch was buck­ling, giv­ing weight to his in­sis­tence that there was no op­por­tu­nity to ar­gue. Maryam pressed her lips to­gether and crouched with Pana be­hind a bench seat.

  “Lights off.” The il­lu­mi­na­tion dis­ap­peared at Kels’s com­mand. When he spoke again, his voice came from nearby. “Hang onto me and Maryam, Pana. I’ll lead us out.”

  Pana’s hand found Maryam’s, as if he could see her in the dark. She gripped hard, her sole con­ces­sion to the fear that choked her. Could they es­cape? Did they have a chance? Did Der­gan truly ex­pect to slip past an en­tire squad, or was he for­feit­ing his life to save theirs?

  She didn’t have long to fret over the sit­u­a­tion. “Hatch, open.” Der­gan called.

  Dim il­lu­mi­na­tion burst into the cabin. Peer­ing through the crack be­tween the back of the seat and the hull, Maryam spied the in­digo sky be­yond the hatch. She strained to spot Der­gan, but he no longer stood be­fore the open­ing. Si­lence de­scended, ex­cept for the harsh gasps she couldn’t quiet and the wild beat­ing of her heart.

  She bit off a scream when sil­hou­ettes ap­peared in the shut­tle’s open­ing, inky against the back­drop of the night sky. A beam of light stabbed the ves­sel’s in­te­rior.