by Alana Khan
“He was a calm, sweet man, Dax. I miss him.”
“You know you’ll never see Lorry again, right?”
I nod. “Larry. Of course I do. I’m not stupid. I can still miss him.”
It’s quiet for a long time. We’re still sitting on the edge of the bed when his big hand slides around mine.
“I have a question, Dahlia, and I don’t want an answer right now. Will you be kind enough to think about it and tell me later?”
I stare up at him and nod.
“I’m not asking when you’ll be ready to move on. Whether it’s today or next lunar cycle or next annum. That’s up to you. But when you see yourself over Larry, could you ever have feelings for me?”
I open my mouth to answer although I don’t know what I’ll say; he puts a finger, whisper-soft, against my lips. “Please do me the favor of giving it some thought.” Grabbing my hand, he escorts me to the door. “Good night Dahlia.”
I make my way to my cabin almost blindly because my eyes are so full of tears. It’s too early for bed but I take a shower and plop into bed before my spinning thoughts slow enough for me to think.
I can’t imagine a starker contrast between two people. Larry was five foot eight inches with a spare build. He was quiet and serious; the perfect temperament for an accountant. He was methodical, a planner.
Dax is huge in every way. My guess is he’s seven feet tall. He’s the biggest male on this ship full of enormous male gladiators. He’s built like Dwayne the Rock Johnson —only taller, with more muscles.
He’s large and loud and sometimes his filter doesn’t work. He’ll mouth off to the other guys with some fairly personal insults. But they always just laugh. I guess it’s a gladiator thing.
He’s funny and open and impulsive. If he was more of a planner, I doubt he would have agreed to this match. I never want to step foot on Aeon II again. They played dirty last time.
I toss and turn and plump my pillow, then throw off my covers, then pull them back on again.
Now’s the time to get honest with myself. Although Dax and Larry are polar opposites, I have to admit I like them both. Maybe part of my attraction to Dax is the very fact he’s so unlike Larry.
He’s fully alive in that gorgeous golden-brown skin of his. When he looks at me like he wants to tear off my clothes and throw me on the mattress and taste me, it makes my toes curl.
Larry was quiet in bed. He was methodical there, too. He read a couple books on how to please a woman before we ever 'did it’. Sex with him was fulfilling, but I often wondered if he was paging through those directions in his mind when he was inserting tab A into slot B.
I remember my first time with Dax. I don’t like to think about those early days onboard the ship. It was terrifying. I worried they’d kill me at any moment.
I wore scanty, pink baby doll pajamas for days before Dr. Drayke was kind enough to give me a huge blue jumpsuit to cover myself.
The slavers tossed me onto the floor of Dax’s cell. We were told if we didn’t mate within one hour they’d torture or kill us. When I saw the size of Dax’s cock, I shook my head and backed into a corner. I thought he would rip me apart.
Instead of roughly impaling me, he sat on the edge of the bed and talked —low and sweet and calm —just like he did tonight. He encouraged me, told me we could do this together. Said we’d take it at my speed. Even though the clock was ticking, he chatted with me like we were on our first Match.com date.
When I was ready to start, he didn’t immediately go for the gold; he took time for foreplay, touching me everywhere until I was wet. You’d think I’d be too terrified to be aroused, but somehow my body responded to him. Then he flipped over onto his back and let me work myself onto him at my own speed. He never moved. I don’t even know how he orgasmed without thrusting.
The ordeal was embarrassing, humiliating, and made me hate my captors even more than I already did, but I liked Dax from the start. He couldn’t have tried harder to make things bearable for me.
We’ve been kind of a team ever since. We sit next to each other in the mess hall and hang out together every day. When we have time to explore a planet, we do it as a couple. We have sex when I want —which isn’t fair to him. But I’ve always held back because in my mind I’m still engaged.
The Urluts took my engagement ring the moment they snatched me. After the overthrow, I combed every nook and cranny of our original ship and found it in a dresser in the abandoned wing. It’s been sitting in my underwear drawer ever since.
I wonder why I didn’t slip it back on my finger. Maybe I didn’t want a thousand questions. Or maybe I didn’t want Dax to know.
I pad to my dresser and my fingers find the ring in the deep recesses of the drawer. I slip it on the tip of my index finger and swivel it in the dim light.
It’s an accountant’s ring. Not too expensive or ostentatious. Something he could afford. A simple gold band with a modest diamond. Larry called it sensible. He was right.
I have no idea what to do with it, and then it comes to me.
“This ring signifies the past,” I begin a one-person ceremony. “I honor every moment of my time with Larry. What we had was good and honest and real.”
I glide the ring onto the fourth finger of my left hand and admire it. “Computer, turn up the lights.”
I twist my hand to inspect it.
“This ring signifies fifteen years with a wonderful, kind male.” I take a breath before I say this next part. “I’ll never see him again. Never.” My lips quiver, but I repeat it, “Never. What we had was good, and it’s gone. Gone forever.”
I walk back to the dresser and pull out the lovely multicolored scarf I bought on planet Fairea before that awful terrorist attack. Dax tried to buy it for me, but I wanted to pay for it with my own money. Maybe somewhere in the far recesses of my mind I knew how I would ultimately use it, because I’m not a scarf kind of girl.
I pull off the ring and thread the end of the scarf through it. Then I fold the scarf into a nest with the ring nestled on top.
It’s my little shrine to Larry, and to my whole other life. It’s gone. I’ll never get it back.
“It’s time to move on. Those days are behind me.” I pause, this next part will be hard. “I love you, Larry, but I’m letting you go. I imagine you think I was raped and murdered. Maybe you’ve contacted America’s Most Wanted and there’s an episode about me. But dead or alive, I’m not coming back.
“Larry you get to move on, and I do, too. That part of my life is behind me.” I put the colorful little bundle on top of the dresser, then turn my back to it. “I’m moving forward.”
For some reason, I take another shower. It’s cleansing, I guess. A rebirth.
Chapter Four
Dahlia
Although I was Dax’s owner of record the last time we went to Aeon II, this time there’s way more pomp and circumstance because he’s the premier fighter at these games. Petra did my hair in the style of ancient Rome with loose braids adorning my head and falling down my back.
Savannah, our resident clothes horse slash ex-Marine, solicited donations from every woman on board and assembled a two-day wardrobe of colorful, gauzy dresses she enhanced with strategically placed costume jewelry.
Dax is dressed in his gladiator uniform of black leather kilt and sash. Shadow and Steele are wearing similar outfits. They’ll accompany us. I even wrangled a room for them in the same fancy hotel as ours.
Shadow carries the net and eight-foot spear Dax uses in the ring when he fights as a retiarius gladiator. Shadow and Steele are armed with their own weapons —swords for show and laser pistols hidden under their kilts if something goes sideways.
“Pain/kill collar,” Captain Zar says as he hands me the collar and wrist controller.
Dr. Drayke did the honors last time we were here because there were three alleged slaves and no one was paying close attention. Today it’s all on me.
“I… don’t know how.” I shrug, loo
king at Zar for help.
He fastens the controller to my wrist and shows me the dial and on/off switch.
“Do we need to remind you those are just for show?” Shadow jokes. “You look like you’re thinking of using it.”
“Very funny. I know it’s disabled.”
“Put the collar on Dax,” Zar prompts as he hands it to me.
I glance at the shiny, metal collar and remember the abject fear I felt during the week I wore it. Knowing someone could torture or kill you for the slightest infraction makes you live in terror. Even though this is just for show, I don’t like even touching the thing.
Dax comes over and kneels in front of me, his hands behind his waist. It’s obvious he’s done this so many times before that he’s on autopilot. There’s something awful and frightening about this dynamic.
“Here’s the leash,” Zar says as he hands me an eight-foot chain leash to attach to Dax’s collar.
“No!” The collar was bad enough, but dragging him on a leash is too much.
“This is the way of it,” Zar urges. “Dax, tell her it’s okay.”
“Reporters will greet us at the bottom of the ramp. I’m one of the premier fighters in tomorrow’s games. It’s expected. Having a female owner is rare. This will make headlines. They’ll all have an amazing picture of the beautiful red-headed humanoid controlling her big gladiator. Put it on.” Still on his knees, he lifts his chin to give me better access.
“I don’t like this,” I whisper as I snap the link into place.
He rises to his feet and I see why it will make a spectacle. I’m five foot four, he’s pushing seven feet. Me controlling this beast of a male with a small wrist controller and pulling him on a leash will make great headlines.
I also realize it’s… sexy.
Shadow, with his prosthetic arm and eye, loaded with weapons, exits first. Steele, whose silver flesh shimmers as if it’s made of steel, follows closely behind. Dax pounds down the metal ramp in front of me, looking like bridled power. I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and act as if I enjoy owning my humongous gladiator.
Dax was right, there are reporters here. Even though we’re a million miles from Earth, it’s easy to spot them. They must look the same everywhere —eager, shouting questions, and intrusive. None of us speak, we just hurry to the waiting hoverlimo and take off.
We fly from the spaceship docking station on the outskirts of town to the fanciest downtown hotel. As we entered the burbs we began seeing ourselves on hundred-foot-high moving news billboards. I seldom think of myself this way, but in this costume, I look pretty. The picture of little me tugging big Dax on that metal leash pulls my attention… and pulls on my clit.
I never thought I was into S&M or D/s or whatever all those initials stand for, but there’s something about the inverted power dynamic that makes my nethers throb. I squeeze my thighs together and take a moment to despise the fact that these guys can smell a female’s arousal at fifty paces.
On Earth, you can hide your little moments of public horniness. In this enclosed space, my shame is on full display. Thankfully, they’re all gentlemanly and don’t mention it.
Although we’re here to watch men almost kill each other in a two-thousand-year-old coliseum, the city is super modern with tall metal-and-glass buildings that sparkle in the sun. The sky is closer to bottle green than Earth blue, but the puffy white clouds look the same.
Pulling up to the hotel, we see even more reporters vying for the ‘money shot’ of the outer space version of Beauty and the Beast. Shadow and Steele hurry me into the lobby and whisk us up to our room.
They check every nook and cranny, looking not only for explosives but recording devices.
“We’ll see you at seven for dinner at the Oasis room downstairs,” Steele says.
“No! Can’t we get room service? I don’t want to eat in a fishbowl.”
“I’ll explain it to her,” Dax says, “I’ll comm you at six.”
It’s silent after they leave.
“I fight for money, Dahlia. Everything we do from here out is about increasing our take. It’s for the good of everyone on the ship. I’m asking you to call Ja’Meer, the Master of the Games, and tell him we’ll eat in public and speak to reporters for ten minimas if our price rises from the two-fifty he’s already agreed to. Our new ask is four hundred thousand.”
“Crap, our first conversation was torture. He’s such an unscrupulous fucker. I never want to meet him in person; I can’t even bear talking to him on comms.” I take a deep breath, knowing I need to do this. We need money for better weapons.
A moment later I comm Ja’Meer, spreading on complements like there’s no tomorrow, and offering our deal.
“You’ll have a leisurely dinner at the Oasis?” he confirms. “Vex will be at the table with you? On his knees? On a leash? Just the two of you with your bodyguards out of the picture?”
I glance at Dax who’s perched naked as always on a gold-and-blue-striped couch probably worth more than two years of my teacher’s salary on Earth. He nods.
“Yes.”
“I’ll raise the purse to four-hundred thousand if you allow ample opportunities for the media to see you feeding him from your hand.”
How can I feel three distinctly different things at one time? Embarrassment, anger, and… a hot pang of lust. Why is my core clenching in anticipation of having Dax on his knees eating out of my hand? Who knew I was a perv?
“You want me to touch my filthy slave like that? Put my hand near his dangerous, rotten teeth? Eat a meal in one of the galaxy’s finest restaurants with gladiator flesh so close it might touch me?” Who knew I’d find my haughty, inner bitch so easily? “For that, I have to ask for four-fifty.”
Dax looks startled for a moment, then stifles a laugh, his eyes crinkling in good humor.
“The highest I’ll go is four-hundred-twenty-five, and to pay that much I’ll have to postpone the games to make certain the stands are at 100% capacity.”
Crap. Postpone the games? Stay here longer? I’d kill to be on the Fool’s Errand with all my friends, lounging in my leggings and t-shirt.
“Postpone? How long?”
“Until I’m at 100% capacity plus standing room. I’ll get back with you tomorrow.” He clicks out without so much as a goodbye.
“How’d I get us into this?” I moan as I plop onto the bed.
“You were magnificent,” Dax says. “You pulled an extra hundred-seventy-five thousand credits out of him. We need the money. You’ll be fine. You’ve certainly stayed in worse places than this. I’d consider this a step up from the original cage we shared.”
“You’re right. Oh my, are you still wearing that awful collar? Let me take it off.”
After crossing the room, he kneels at my feet. Looking up, he exposes his thickly muscled neck. I touch my thumb on the tiny pad to unlock it, then pull it off.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, he’s kneeling on the carpeted floor in front of me, naked. We’re eye to eye. His beautiful green eyes don’t blink. I’m certain my pulse is pounding in my carotid. The tips of my breasts contract in need.
My lips open of their own volition and my tongue slicks out to wet them.
“There’s something about this you like?” His eyes haven’t left mine for a second as he leans forward one millimeter at a time.
“Like?” I’m playing the innocent even while my hoarse voice is giving everything away.
His lips are half an inch from mine. His breath breezes across my skin. He inhales audibly through his nose, then glances down for the briefest second.
“Your body seems to like this.” He pierces me with his gaze again and just waits for me to answer.
“Hard to deny I guess,” I give a timid little laugh.
He puts his right hand on the bed near my left knee, then mirrors his action with his left. He’s not touching me, but it’s like he’s trapped me in a vise.
Even though my gaze is captured in his, I can se
e his cock straining at me from down below.
He’s perfectly still, like a predator waiting to pounce on prey. I’m paralyzed, memorizing every aspect of this moment: the silence, his beautiful, bronze skin, the beating of my heart, the pounding in my clit, the yearning in my core.
“You want to be in control?” The words rolled off his tongue mellow and sweet with rounded vowels and soft consonants.
I shake my head ‘no’ before I even think about the answer.
“You like me on my knees, Dahlia? At your feet? Naked?”
I forgot how patient he can be. He’ll kneel there for hours waiting for a response.