by Regine Abel
“What’s going on?” I asked, rising from my seat.
I wove through the crowd towards the changing rooms, a sense of unease gripping me.
“It may be nothing, but Brandon tagged a Samuel Trent boarding his shuttle with a veiled indentured sex slave. It wouldn’t be a big deal but she was wearing Mystique. According to him, her body height, size and hair color all matched.”
Whispers of fear coursed through me. Mystique was an extremely expensive perfume, averaging a few hundred credits per ounce. I bought Grace a bottle and she loved it so much, that’s all she wore anymore. No slaver would use something that fancy on a sex slave.
“What about her collar?”
I heard him repeat the question to someone else, Brandon I assumed.
“Standard leash,” William answered.
“Don’t let them take off,” I said.
I rushed through the throng. One of the patron’s yelp of protest died in his throat when he saw who had bumped into him.
I didn’t care.
As I neared the corridor leading to the changing rooms, Sheila cut me off with her usual fake smile.
“Mr. Myers, I haven’t seen you in a while.”
She traced her hand along my arm.
“I don’t have time right now,” I said, trying to go around her.
She stepped into my path, blocking my way again.
“Oh come on,” she said, taking a seductive pose. “Surely you—”
“You listen real good,” I grounded through my teeth. “Block my path again and I’ll toss you on your ass. I have no interest in whatever the fuck you’re peddling. Now I’m on my way to check up on the woman I intend to marry. You stay the fuck away from her. Should I ever find out that you tried to mess with her again, in any way, you will discover what happens to those who cross a Braxian.”
She paled. Shoving her aside, I hurried to Grace’s dressing room. I barrelled through the door. The room lay empty, her sequin dress hanging on the hook. There was no sound of water from the shower.
“Grace?” I called out, knowing she wouldn’t answer. “She’s not here,” I said in the still open com. “Don’t you let that fucking ship off the station.”
“You got it,” William’s voice replied, the com crackling with static.
I went to the dancers’ dressing room. Muffled voices seeped through the door, partially drowned by the music and chatter from the dining room. Hoping against hope, I knocked and opened it without waiting. The girls froze mid-sentence. Romero stood in the corner, without Grace.
“Where’s she?”
Their surprise turned into worry upon hearing the tension in my voice.
Carrie answered, “She should be in her dressing room, cha—”
“No,” Sacha interrupted. “She isn’t. Or at least she wasn’t when I checked before. Zenia said some man wanted to talk to her in the back.”
Cold dread washed over me. I rushed through the empty hallways. My footsteps on the tiled floor sounded unnaturally loud to my ears. I reached the back to find it deserted, as was the back alley. Coming back in, I noticed the closed utility room door. I opened it. Grace’s silk sarong scarf lay crumpled on the floor.
“It’s her. I’m on my way,” I said in the com. “Is Marcus on that ship?”
“I’ll find out.”
Romero and the girls rushed to find me holding Grace’s dress in my hand. I terminated the com, hating the thought that this may not be a kidnapping but an escape. She might have resorted to this if she wanted to keep our child and feared I would kill it. Ignoring them, I headed for the docking bay.
CHAPTER 22
Grace
The man loaded me into a hovercab so we could reach the docking bay quickly. During the short ride, he forced me to put my thumb on his datapad’s signature box. I didn’t need to read it to know he coerced me into becoming an indentured sex slave.
As expected, the docking bay overflowed with visitors. William increased security at the gates and I recognized a number of familiar faces. I didn’t know the guard who checked my abductor’s identifications. However, I recognized Brandon a few feet away in his riot gear. Brandon often ensured security at the headquarters and knew me well. The chances of him recognizing me in this outfit were slim though.
My abductor answered routine questions, including his name: Samuel Trent. The guard ignored me. Brandon headed our way to hand the guard a datapad. They exchanged a couple of words then, as Brandon was about to leave, his nostrils flared. He turned towards us and frowned looking at me. My pulse raced.
Recognize me. Please recognize me!
He eyed my hair and veiled face. Stepping closer to me, he leaned forward and inhaled discretely. Why would he...
He recognizes my perfume!
“Samuel Trent,” Brandon said, looking over his identifications on the datapad, “what is your business on Venus Hive?”
“Entertainment, naturally,” Samuel answered. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve just gone through all that with your colleague. Is there a problem?”
“And you’re about to go through it with me,” Brandon deadpanned.
Yes!
“You arrived this morning. Why are you leaving so soon?”
“I came to pick her up. As you can see, she’s a nice piece and I have some customers eager to get to know her better, if you know what I mean.”
We all knew too well what he meant. What I both wanted and dreaded to know was who those customers were. Samuel targeted me specifically. This felt well planned. Surely whoever they were knew not to fuck with Anton.
“Do you have the contract?”
“Naturally. Right here,” Samuel said, tapping a couple of instructions on the datapad.
Of course, there was no name for me. Should it be contested, the fingerprint was proof enough. Brandon gave it a cursory glance before looking at me.
“I’d like to see her face.”
My stomach dropped.
“Well now, you know that’s not possible. She’s veiled for a reason,” Samuel said. “You must respect her wish for anonymity.”
Brandon pinched his lips but couldn’t argue – it was the law. From the look on his face, it was obvious Brandon didn’t want to let it go. Samuel slipped a hand in his pocket, no doubt reaching for the remote detonator in case Brandon pressed the issue. Fear coiled in my belly.
“Is that correct, Madam?” Brandon asked. “Do you wish to retain your anonymity?”
No! Like hell I do!
I swallowed, then nodded. Brandon narrowed his eyes but didn’t challenge my statement.
“You may proceed,” he told Samuel, handing him back his datapad.
Samuel tugged on my leash for me to follow. Despite the fear that twisted my insides, a sliver of hope blossomed in my heart. Brandon sensed something wasn’t right. I knew he would communicate his suspicions to William. I needed to hang on until they came for me.
It felt like a long walk to the ship. People jostled around us, calling to each other. Every delay gave me another reason to hope. Unfortunately, we reached the dingy rust bucket Samuel called his ship far too soon for my liking. The small star cruiser had known better days. Judging by its size and make, it looked ideal for a two-man crew. It could even be one-manned with a solid enough AI integrated onboard.
The ramp lowered and Samuel pulled roughly on my leash. If he kept this up, he would break my neck. To my surprise, the inside of the ship didn’t look as bad as the outside. The light gray wall paneling bore many scrapes and scratches but it was clean. It was at odds with Samuel who didn’t seem to be too big on personal hygiene. The stale air inside the ship made me realize this may not be Samuel’s ship. If someone paid him to abduct me, he might have bought this tub from a refurbishing shipyard.
“Who are you? And why are you doing this?”
“Quiet bitch,” Samuel said, giving the leash another tug. “Your new master will tell you what he wants if and when he wants to.”
I
bit my lower lip as we followed the narrow corridor past the bridge to a closed room in the back. The door swished open at Samuel’s approach. The smell of oiled leather assaulted my nose. Dangling from the ceiling, sturdy chains with shackles at the end swayed quietly. I swallowed as a bondage bench sitting beside a range of canes, whips, and floggers entered my line of sight. My skin prickled as my imagination ran wild, picturing them biting my flesh. I didn’t even want to think what the metal chest of drawers and large shipping crate beside it might contain. As I stepped into the room, my eyes fell on the huge bed, and more importantly, the massive man standing in front of it.
“Gerwin…” I breathed, feeling faint.
“As promised, here’s your new pet,” Samuel said, unhooking the leash from my collar and removing my veil.
“Hello, little human,” Gerwin said, a cruel smile stretching his thick lips. “Looks like we’re finally going to get properly acquainted.”
Terror choked me. Gerwin had forced his fingers brutally inside me at Sade. Without Anton’s intervention, he could have seriously hurt me. Now wasn’t the moment to give in to panic, though. Gerwin was a bigot with an irrational hatred for half-breeds. If he ever found out about my baby, he would kill us both. I needed to buy myself time. But how?
He wants respect and submission.
And then I knew.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
I bowed my head and walked towards him.
“Hey!” Samuel called out, reaching for me.
Gerwin lifted a hand, indicating for Samuel to stop. From the corner of my eye, I saw him watching my movements intently. In accordance with the Braxian house slave greeting protocol, I knelt before him. Forcing myself to ignore the grime on his shoes, I kissed his feet then rested my forehead between them. Above me, I heard Gerwin’s slow chuckle.
“The mutt actually trained you well,” Gerwin said. He gently tapped my cheek with the side of his foot, indicating I had permission to rise. “Trent, get us the fuck off this station before they notice she’s missing.”
Samuel grunted and walked out of the room. The door slid closed. Cold sweat ran down my back as Gerwin circled around me. His huge hand caressed my skin, squeezing my breasts and ass along the way. His touch was rough, but thankfully not as brutal as that first time at Sade.
“Take off your dress.”
Hands shaking, I did as he commanded. The cheap material scraped my hands like sandpaper. I balled the dress and held it against my stomach, like a shield. Gerwin ripped it away then tossed it to the ground.
“You know,” he said, circling me again as his calloused hands roamed over my skin, “my original plan was to fuck you bloody, tear that tight cunt of yours to shreds – your ass too if you lived past round one. Then I would have shoved your corpse in this nice little crate,” he said pointing at it, “and sent you back to the mutt, with my regards.”
Goosebumps rose over my skin. “Please—”
“Quiet, slave,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I said ‘my original plan’ which your proper show of respect made me revisit.”
A single tear of relief silently slid down my cheek.
“As it seems you know your place, I might keep you around. Why waste such a nice pussy when I can fuck you every day, anytime I want, and any way I want?”
Those were almost Anton’s exact words when Gerwin asked why he hadn’t fucked me to death as punishment for Jeruna.
“I intend to have my cock inside you within the hour, so let’s get some Denax in you. Then you get to suck me off until that pussy of yours is ready for a real man. You better make it good if you don’t want to end up in that crate. Get on the bed,” he said, shoving me back.
My knees hit the bed’s edge and I stumbled onto the stiff mattress. Turning on my back, I watched Gerwin as he retrieved a large bottle of Denax from the chest of drawers. He stalked back to me and I instinctively started crawling back up the bed. He caught my ankle and dragged me towards him and the edge of the bed.
“Spread them,” he ordered, flicking open the lid of the bottle.
My legs shook as I willed them to part. I didn’t see the size of Gerwin’s cock at Sade, but I knew he would be bigger than Anton. It would take more than one application of Denax to loosen me enough to receive him without tearing. Gerwin drizzled some of the dilator over my pussy before starting to massage it in and around my opening.
Blocking out the feel of his unwanted touch, I focused on how to delay the moment he would take me. If my instinct was right, Brandon raised his suspicions already. William didn’t leave things to chance and would investigate. I just needed to hang on.
Repulsive as it sounded, I would suck Gerwin off ‘and make it good.’ I didn’t want him hurting my baby. I would take my sweet time and make it last. My biggest problem was the damn implant. It needed to come out before security showed up.
If they show up.
Never mind that. The question was where to find a blade sharp enough to cut the damn thing out without butchering myself.
“Such a pretty little thing,” Gerwin mumbled to himself.
The citrusy scent of Denax permeated the room as he poured more of it between my legs. His fingers worked the lotion in and out of me. Gerwin became aroused and his motions got more forceful.
“Do you have any idea how badly I want to ram my cock inside you right now?”
He flicked down the lid of the Denax bottle then tossed it to the ground, his other hand continuing to stretch me. My eyes widened in fear when he leaned over me, supporting his weight on his forearm. He crushed my lips with a brutal kiss, and the taste of iron exploded in my mouth. I whimpered but stayed still. His mouth trailed down my neck to my breast, sucking on it with such greed it felt as if my nipple would tear off. They had become more sensitive of late, so I felt his brutality more acutely.
“Please,” I pleaded, tears pooling in my eyes. “You’re hurting me.”
At first, I thought he would ignore me, but then he stilled. Even the motion of his hands stopped. His mouth released my nipple, which smarted from the recent abuse. Breathing heavily, I watched in confusion as he wrinkled his nose, nostrils flaring. He sniffed at me as if trying to identify a smell. He recoiled. A look of great disgust etched on his face. He launched off the bed, away from me.
His horrified expression threw me for a loop.
What the hell just happened?
Sitting up, I sniffed at myself, trying to understand what triggered such a violent reaction. I could only detect the refined aroma of my expensive perfume.
“What–what’s wrong?” I asked, frightened.
“What’s wrong?” he growled. “WHAT’S WRONG? That mutt fucking ruined you! He stuck an abomination in your womb!”
Pure dread washed over me. My baby… He knows about the baby.
“What?” I repeated, numbly.
“The half-breed impregnated you with his tainted seed. I can smell it on you.”
My hands flew to my stomach, in protection.
“Smell?” I said with a shuddering voice. “You can smell pregnancy?”
“Didn’t the mutt tell you? We can smell pregnancy. By the stench, you’re carrying a male.”
He stepped towards me. I tried to crawl back on the bed but he grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling me savagely to him. Crying out, I feared my scalp would tear right off. As he held me in front of him, I stood on shaky legs. Gerwin yanked my hair back, holding it down, exposing my neck. My hands gripped his shirt for support. Something sharp pricked my skull.
My hairpin.
Gerwin took another long sniff at me and once more, his face contorted with disgust.
“You reek! Your bastard is at least two or three months in. That fucking mutt thinks he gets to further taint a Braxian bloodline?” Gerwin brought his face inches from mine, hatred burning in his eyes. “He took everything from me. Now I’m going to destroy everything he ever cared about. You and your abomination are going in that crate
.”
Anton knew. This whole time he knew.
For three months he said nothing, allowing it to live. He wanted our child. Why didn’t he say anything? Did he fear I would reject it like I feared he would?
I didn’t see the blow coming. Gerwin’s fist crashed into my stomach. My breath rushed out of me and I doubled over. Except, I couldn’t quite fold down with his hand still holding me up by the hair. I gasped but no air came in.
The second blow knocked my feet out from under me. He hit my ribs. I heard a crack. The agony spreading throughout my chest felt like the fallout of lightning striking my side. For a moment, I dangled like a broken doll, too winded to react. A fistful of hair tore from my scalp, unable to sustain the weight of my body. It felt as though a sharp knife sliced off the back of my head. I wheezed a silent scream.
I collapsed, my head thudding on the hard metal floor. Warmth trickled down the back of my head and along my neck. Gasping for air, I curled up in a ball. I braced for the blows that would rain down on me.
None came.
Gerwin grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the middle of the room.
“Descend,” he ordered.
The chains clinked above my head in response to his command. Pulling my arm up, Gerwin clasped a handcuff around my wrist. He grabbed my second wrist, yanking it up savagely. My scream came out as a throaty groan. I couldn’t breathe with the shackles stretching my arms up. At this rate, my broken rib would pierce my lungs and I’d drown in my own blood.
Kneeling to relieve the pressure, I heard Gerwin’s footsteps recede behind me. A drawer opened and he rummaged in it. His footsteps approached again. My heart tried to pound its way out of my chest and I shuddered at what he might do. Each tremor stirred a lancing pain in my side. I didn’t even want to think about my baby right now.
Please, don’t beat me. Please, don’t beat me.
The canes, floggers, and whips loomed in my mind. My imagination swelled with the different horrible ways he could kill my unborn child. Gerwin yanked my head back by the hair. My strangled cry died in my throat when I came face to face with his crotch. His cock stood erect in front of me like a bat.