by Viki Storm
“I am,” he says. He pulls down on a huge lever and the ship whirs into life. It startles me, but I thankfully don’t let out the scared little whimper that threatens to escape my lips. I’m already appearing weak enough in front of him. “The peacekeepers won’t come for me,” he explains. “They’ll come for you.”
The ship lurches as we ascend and the sudden acceleration roils my stomach. I try to breathe slowly, but the harsh fact of the matter is that I am weak. I’ve hardly eaten in days.
Ayvinx sits down and starts to strap himself in. “We’re ready,” he says. He looks at me and fear flashes across his face. “Get your harness on!” he almost shouts. “Now!”
“What?” I say. There’s a configuration of straps and buckles attached to the seat, but I haven’t the first clue how to figure out how to work it. I slip one arm through a strap, but Ayvinx says, “No! You’ve got it all wrong!”
“How does this damned thing work?” I ask.
The comm speaker on his instrument panel beeps and a voice starts shouting, asking about positions and clearance codes and vessel identification numbers, and a bunch of other jargon that my language procedure can’t properly translate.
“Holy void, that was fast. We gotta go. Now. We don’t have time for this,” Ayvinx says. “Forgive me.” He comes to me and reaches out his hands.
“Hey! What the hell?” I say.
“We need to lift off now,” he says. “The peacekeepers are asking for my flight credentials. We have about two minutes before they put an engine lock on the ship.”
“But…” I protest—but he’s already bending down in front of me, his huge hands grasping for the straps of the harness. He untangles the mass of straps and threads my arms through the appropriate places.
He’s manipulating my arms, gently guiding them, the heat from his palms transferring to my skin. It makes my stomach do a little flip that isn’t altogether unpleasant. He’s careful when fastening the chest harness not to use the opportunity to cop a cheap feel of my breasts.
But he looks. Oh yes, he looks. He’s got a greedy, ravenous glint in his eyes. But there’s nothing predatory—nothing dangerous—in his eyes. Just… hunger.
He pulls the strap on the chest harness and it tightens against my breasts. There’s a strap going across my ribcage, right underneath my breasts, and two more straps that go across my breasts in an X. The effect is that my breasts are bulging outward, lewdly encased by the straps of the harness.
Ayvinx pauses for just a moment, before taking the buckle between my legs and fastening it to the rest of the harness. Again, he’s courteous—not running his fingers along my inner lips, even though he could.
He could do that—and a lot more.
The strap between my legs is tight, rubbing against my sex. I reach with my arm to adjust it and find that I can’t move it more than a few inches.
“What the fuck?” I say. “I can’t move.”
“Good,” he says. “These little ships take off violently.” He’s still standing just a few feet in front of me… Seeming to admire me strapped in like this. The harness encircles my breasts, pushing them out as if on display. The crotch-strap covers my sex, but also rubs against it in a way that I can’t help enjoying. I fidget just a little, squirming against the strap so it rubs on my clit.
I can’t stop thinking that this fearsome alien could do whatever he wanted to me right now. I’m completely bound in this harness.
I’m so damned stupid. I was so eager to get away from Tarlou that I trusted this complete stranger and let him bind me right back up again.
Ayvinx shakes his head, as if to clear it, and gets back into the pilot seat. He slips on his harness—which is just as intricate as mine—with the ease of a seasoned professional.
We take off and it’s a bumpy ride, as he warned me about. Once we get in the air and stabilize, he sets the autopilot controls. “We’re out of the atmosphere,” he says, “but I can’t set the autopilot until we get clear of the gravitational pull of the nearby cluster of planets.”
“Can you undo this damned harness yet?” I ask. He swivels his seat and turns to me. His stare—it’s so intense. I can’t help squirm a little in my seat, getting that strap to press against my clit. I’m throbbing down there now and I don’t know why.
Tarlou strapped me to a table and all I felt was sick fear and rage.
Ayvinx does it and… And what? My body reacts in a treacherous, devious, way that I can’t control.
My arms reflexively move to cover my breasts. My knees try to close, but I can’t move. My breasts are still protruding from the harness, sticking straight out. My nipples have turned into pebbles, hard and tingling.
He’s looking at me with that avaricious stare—and he really could do whatever he wanted to me. He’d just have to undo the strap between my legs and I’d be helpless. He sniffs the air a little and smiles.
“Not quite yet,” he says. I don’t know whether he’s being honest, or if he’s just trying to keep me naked strapped in this chair for a little longer so he can ogle me some more. “I’ll tell you about Zalaryn current events while we wait.” Ayvinx then tells me a fantastical tale of rebellion and intrigue and… Minerals? Fenda is a rich planet that has mines of something called qizo. Qizo fuels their spaceships and allows them to travel faster than the speed of light. Several generations ago, it also had the unfortunate side-effect of deforming and sterilizing the females of their race—which is why the Zalaryns take human females from Earth: We’re one of the few species that have DNA compatible for breeding with each other.
Some months ago, a rebellion started brewing. One of the High Councilors started working in league with the Kraxx to overthrow the High King. Dark Lord Noxu, their leader, thinks that the Zalaryn race has gotten soft and weak. “Weak?” I say, interrupting his story. “If those bastards on the ship back there are weak, then I don’t want to ever meet this Noxu guy.”
“I have no wish for you to meet him either,” Ayvinx says. “Noxu is leading a small contingent of disaffected Zalaryn warriors and a rather large contingent of Kraxx fighters. I don’t need to enumerate the despicable acts that the Kraxx are capable of, do I? And how much worse they’d be if they had qizo to fuel their ships? They’d invade every planet in the known universe, infecting every race with their egg sacs.”
“How are we going to stop them?” I ask, annoyed at myself for saying we. There’s no we. This is all so much worse than I imagined. I had no idea that the very universe itself was in jeopardy.
“The Kraxx prophecy states that the Dark Lord can only be vanquished by the Green Ghost Army,” Ayvinx says with a smile. “So, I just have to find one.”
“Good to know you’re taking this seriously,” I say, rolling my eyes. If this is all as serious as Ayvinx says then we’re going to need something. Though the Kraxx haven’t been on Earth for generations, the taint of their violence and cruelty is fresh in the minds of all humanity.
For a moment, I forgot the fact that I was nude and bound to the seat. I was so… comfortable? No, definitely not. I was just engrossed in the story he was telling. That’s all. And now I notice him staring at me and feel that oddly pleasurable tingle in my belly.
“I take everything seriously.” Ayvinx hits some buttons on the instrument panel, then unhooks his own harness and comes to me. “Autopilot is set,” he says.
But he doesn’t make a move to undo my straps.
“You see how important it is,” Ayvinx says. He’s speaking slowly—and I know that this is the bad part, “that you come to Fenda with me.”
“So you can give me to the Fendan Emperor?” I say. “A little token of your appreciation? A small bauble to pledge your allegiance?”
“First of all,” Ayvinx says, “you’re no small token.” A lecherous smile spreads across his face. “You’re the most beautiful human female I’ve ever seen. You’re priceless.” His gaze lingers, and I feel something stirring in my belly. I push it away, but I can’
t help looking back at him. He’s so strong and powerful—nothing like the scrawny, malnourished proles on Earth. His face is well-proportioned, his eyes gleam with mischief—and that smile… Oh man, it’s infectious. But I’m not stupid. I know guys like him, with their carefree attitude, their easy smiles and effortless lies that roll slickly off their tongues.
Ayvinx continues: “Second of all: he’s an Imperator, not emperor.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” I say. “At least you’re handing me over to a greedy alien Imperator.”
“Look,” Ayvinx says, “just come with me to Fenda. The Fendans? They aren’t so hot-headed. You should be able to get the Imperator wrapped around your little finger in no time. Have him feeding you fruits out of silver platters and drinking chilled wine from golden goblets.”
“I hate wine,” I say.
“Of course you do,” Ayvinx says, undeterred. “You just have to make nice. Play along. Okay? Then, when this is all over, I’m getting out of here with all the sweet, void-lurking speed I can muster and I can take you with me. I’ll drop you off wherever you want. There are plenty of planets you can go to escape your past.”
What nice lies, I think. He knows exactly what I want to hear.
“What’s the catch?” I say.
“No catch,” he says. “It’s not hard for me to drop you somewhere. Consider it my way of apologizing.”
“Hmm,” I say, noncommittally. But I know he’s full of it. He’ll help me out of the goodness of his heart? What a load. No one has goodness in their heart.
“What’s the hold up?” I demand, annoyed that he’s kept me strapped into the seat for so long. “You were going to give me a bed sheet and a pair of scissors, remember?”
“I remember,” he says, “and a present too—don’t forget that.”
“Then hurry up,” I say. He leans down and unfastens the first buckle holding my arms. He’s close. I can feel his heat—smell that earthy, rugged scent of pure masculinity.
What the hell. I must be loopy from lack of oxygen or something.
Ayvinx sniffs the air again, opening his mouth and tonguing the air with that weird bumpy tongue.
“Okay, what the fuck,” I say. I’ve had enough of this. “Why do you keep sniffing the air? Is there an exhaust leak or something?”
“If you insist on knowing,” he says. “I can smell your arousal.”
“Oh, fuck you!” I say, trying to cover my breasts with my arms. “That’s utter bullshit. Now get me a sheet.”
“Is it?” he says. “Now your arousal is mixed with embarrassment. I can sense everything—your increased heart rate, your anticipation, your slick fluid that’s likely smeared all over the seat and the harness.”
“Fuck you!” I say again. I have no response to his accusations—mainly because he’s right.
“Do you want the rest of these restraints off or not?” he asks. “I can let you loose and give you materials to make a robe—or maybe you want to sit here for the rest of the flight? Maybe you like having your breasts on display like this? Maybe you’re having fun rubbing your sex against the harness strap. Yes—I noticed that too. It feels good, I bet.”
“Just get me out of here,” I say. I was so stupid to trust him. He only has one thing on his mind—and I was dumb enough to let him strap me into this cunningly complicated harness. He could put his hands all over me… He could start rubbing me…
I need to stop this. It must be something with the atmosphere, playing with my hormones. My body would never betray my brain like this.
I can’t meet his eyes as Ayvinx reaches between my breasts to undo the last strap. I get up and glance down at the seat. Sure enough, I’ve left a slick spot of wetness on the surface.
He doesn’t mention it, but I know he sees it. He can’t not see it.
Ayvinx leads me down the main corridor of the ship and into a small dormitory. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I was just messing with you. I like to see you squirm. Especially when it’s back and forth, rubbing your wet little cunt all over the passenger seat. But I’d never take a female against her will—though something tells me it wouldn’t be against your will right now, would it?”
He’s leaned in so close to me in this small room that his lips are almost brushing my earlobe. My skin is covered in goosebumps. I hesitate—almost possessed by some dark demon of desire, about to lean into him—but at the last moment Ayvinx takes a quick step back and rips a sheet off the small mattress.
“Here,” he says. “You can make something out of this, can’t you?”
“Yes,” I say. I wrap the sheet around my body. He knows nothing about me—my talents, my past, my crimes. And that’s good. No one knows those secrets.
Would he go through this much trouble to save me if he knew the things I’ve done?
Would he look at me with admiration? With desire?
Probably not.
“Here,” he says. Ayvinx hands me a pair of sewing shears. It takes me a second to realize they’re mine—the same ones I used to escape the constables before I was apprehended by the Zalaryns.
“Where did you get these?” I ask.
“They were on the cargo ship,” he says. “I stole them on the way out.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I don’t know if I should give them to you,” he says. “I was going to wait until I was sure you weren’t going to plunge them into the side of my neck,” he says, “but I’m still not a hundred percent sure on that one.”
“We’re here,” I say to her. Jula’s sitting sullenly beside me, taking every opportunity to glare at me—bright defiance blazing in her eyes. “Well, almost.”
I activate the window coverings. We’re approaching the Solmi galaxy, the home of billions of stars and about twenty-thousand known inhabited planets—one of them being Fenda. We’re traveling well above the speed of light, and approaching all the stars after so long in the void can screw with your head. Puking is common. Plus eyestrain, headache, vertigo—and then more puking.
“Where’s here?” Jula asks. I can see her straining to look through the windows, but the covers are going down. “Fenda? Do you need a bow to wrap me up before you give me to their damned king?”
“Wrap you up?” I ask. I’m not sure what she’s talking about.
“Like a present,” she explains. “Because that’s what I am. One bastard king giving me to some other bastard king.”
“You’re taking this personally,” I say. “Do you not understand the situation as I explained it? The rebels and the Kraxx can’t be allowed to get into those qizo mines.”
“I understand that just fine,” she says. “But you think that giving me to the king is going to stop this invasion?”
“Obviously not,” I say. I check the controls on the nav-panel and adjust our deceleration path slightly. She’s from Earth, after all, and the fastest vehicle she’s ever been in was probably pulled by a stinking animal with four legs that stopped every few miles to drop a load of dung into the street. I modify our landing path for a gentler trajectory. “But giving you to their Imperator will be a sign of diplomatic good faith. It will restore his confidence in the rightful Zalaryn crown and seal the bond between our two planets as true allies.”
“I’m honored that you think so highly of me,” she says. I can hear the resentment and defiance in her voice—and it’s becoming clear that Tarlou was right. If I’d had at least one functioning brain cell, I’d have realized back on the cargo ship that this female is a feral creature, full of all the venom of an arachnoid. Presenting her to the Fendan Imperator is going to be like handing him a bomb with a lit fuse.
I’d have known that if I’d been thinking clearly. I have a nose for sniffing out trouble—mostly because I try to avoid it as much as possible. Unfortunately, I also have a nose for sniffing out troublemakers—mostly because I am one.
I wasn’t thinking clearly when I was aboard that cargo ship. The sight of a pitiful human female—strapped
down and about to be defiled by the crew of warriors—was part of it. The fact that those same warriors were supposed to be granting her safe passage to Zalaryx was also part of it.
But it wasn’t all of it.
Mostly, I took her because I wanted her.
She’s beautiful—lithe and full of venom. I’ve seen human females before in the pleasure houses, but Jula is different. It’s not just the red hair, which is undoubtedly rare and beautiful. It’s more. There’s something inside her that’s perhaps as red and rare as her hair.
There was nothing honorable in my actions. Yes, I took her because Tarlou and his crew were about to do despicable things to her. Yes, I took her because she’s stunningly beautiful and would make a nice gift for the Fendan Imperator.
But the real reason I took her—and not a meek, tractable female—is because I like her.
I wanted to see her smooth body. I wanted to take her with me on the voyage to Fenda. I wanted to hear her colorful curses, wanted to smell her. Her scent on the cargo ship was the rank and sharp smell of pure hatred and it masked the softer, truer smell beneath.
I know she doesn’t belong to me—that she’ll never belong to me. She’s the Marked property of the Zalaryn clan—soon to be the royal property of the Fendan Imperator.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t have her for just a little while.
“I do think highly of you,” I say—and it’s the truth. “You are indeed a gift fit for a king. It would have been a crime to have you gentled. It would have been like pulling the teeth out of a… leonoid.”
I can see the struggle on her face. She’s debating whether or not to deliver the clever insult she has chambered and ready to fire. It’s a quandary I often face myself.
The ship suddenly lurches downward. The first descent cycle is underway. “What was that?” Jula says, panic choking off whatever rude thing she’d been planning to say. And she was planning on saying it—of that I’m sure.