by Alana Khan
Grace took me to the ludus and I’ve begun to work out. One thing I’ve found all over the galaxy, gyms all seem to smell and sound alike. This room, with the imagined clang of weights colliding and the pungent stink of sweat remind me of the thousands of hours I’ve dedicated to honing my physical abilities.
My life has been like a freight train. On track in the direction of an MMA fighter until I was abducted at age twenty-one. Then a different train, going in another direction as a gladiator until a few days ago. And now, it seems, I’m not on any train at all. I’m headed nowhere for the first time in my life.
Everyone assures me I can take all the time I need to figure things out. But I’ve always been a Type A girl; people who knew me as a kid described me as “driven.” I need something to do with myself all day, so working out in the ludus is what I’ll do until something else strikes me.
I can’t lift weights, or do much of anything with my right arm, Drayke ordered me not to push myself. So I’ve been running, doing leg lifts, things like that. I thought about what they do for P.T. back on Earth. I’ve seen pictures of people squeezing those little pink balls to get their strength back. Of course, I don’t have a little pink ball, but I’ve been squeezing a wad of rags whenever I have a free moment. I have no idea if it’s doing any good, but it makes me feel in control of my healing process.
I have to come to the ludus after dinner, when none of the males are here. Drayke told me he’d feel the need to kill any male who was in the same room alone with me. The intensity of his bonding instinct is insanely high. I don’t know how he’s tolerating it. He wasn’t joking when he said males of his species go crazy from this. I’ll be honest, that puts a lot of pressure on me.
If it was just sex, that would be one thing. I mean if all I had to do was have mind-blowing sex with him to make Drayke’s hormonal madness stop, I’d do it in a heartbeat; it doesn’t exactly sound like punishment. But it’s the forever thing that’s the kicker. I can’t promise tomorrow to anyone, much less after till death do us part. I’ve known this male less than a handful of days—how can I promise him forever? And frankly, I can’t imagine ever being able to do that. Which leaves poor Drayke in a bind.
I’m trying very hard not to take responsibility for this. It’s not my fault he bonded with me.
“Dr. Drayke, Nova, Shadow, Petra, Steele, could you come to the bridge?” Zar’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
Dr. Drayke sun Omrun
I actually run to the bridge, hoping to get there before Nova. If she’s already in that small space, breathing the same air as the three other males, I’ll be hard-pressed not to kill them. Luckily, when I arrive only Captain Zar and Axxios the pilot are there. I step back out into the hallway and wait for Nova. I’ll intercept her, we’ll walk in together and she’ll sit on my lap. I can tolerate that. I hope.
The bonding sickness is progressing faster than I’d anticipated. I’ve noticed my peripheral vision is blurred, one of the symptoms I’d forgotten about. The almost-constant erection is becoming more painful by the hour. I’ve been masturbating more frequently, which only gives the briefest relief. I’ve reviewed more of the literature, looking for anything helpful, but very little can be done.
It says there will come a time when masturbation will give no relief. When that happens, the literature is replete with many stories of males who have electively amputated their own penis and testicles.
Luckily I see Nova hurrying my way and stop this morbid train of thought. What I should be doing is redoubling my efforts to court her. I know she likes me. It’s also obvious she enjoys our bed play. But that isn’t enough for a female to agree to bond. The word “forever” is scary to anyone, but seems to terrify her.
Nova approaches and grabs my hand, tucking herself up under my arm. She knows the drill. Poor thing, this dracking bonding, my deranged possessiveness, has caused her to miss mealtimes in the dining hall. It’s one of the best things about being on the Lazy Slacker, the camaraderie, especially when we’re sharing meals together. But my intense jealousy has robbed her of that.
My desire to keep my condition secret lasted about two minutes after I divulged it the other day. Everyone knows; I guess that’s to be expected. All the females have been great, coming to my room, well, it’s Nova’s room now, to talk and joke with her. The males have been far more understanding than I expected, and literally will jog the other way down the hall if they see her coming. Which I’m sure must hurt her feelings even though she assures me she understands.
Nova and I are already seated when Shadow and Petra arrive. Everyone else on the bridge is congregated near the front windows, so there’s plenty of room between them and us. My body is on high alert, though. It’s hard to stop the almost-constant growl coming from the back of my throat. I’m devolving, that’s obvious.
“We’ll be arriving on Aeon II tomorrow at 1700," Zar begins without preamble. “Petra, we sent a vid of you practicing on the rope to several bars there, and the Golden Pussy said they’d be happy to have you perform for tips.”
“It’s a chain? An interplanetary strip club? Are you shitting me?” she asks, her expression half surprise and half disgust.
I recall that’s the name of the establishment where she performed on Numa, the planet she was abducted to. She earned the money to buy herself. After hearing that, I’ve always admired her ingenuity and courage.
“Money and sex and fighting,” Zar says, “seem to be temptations in every sector of the galaxy.”
“I still think it’s complete drack," Shadow growls. “I’d happily fight in the arena to spare her having to do her rope routine with no clothes on.”
“I’ll be wearing clothes, Shadow,” Petra reminds him. “On Earth, we go to the beach wearing less than that. It will only be for an hour or two. Surgical strike, in and out.”
Shadow looks furious, but knows he’s lost the battle. He stops arguing, but his brow is knitted, his face is in a thunderous scowl.
Zar begins, “Drayke, Nova, and Steele, you’ll be going to the slave pens.” Everyone shows a visceral reaction to this statement; jaws tighten, eyes dart to the floor. Except for me, every person in the room has been imprisoned in one. Just the thought of it must bring back terrible memories for everyone.
“Doc, you said you checked out every male on board and Steele was the one you could tolerate best?” Zar asks.
“Best is relative,” I reply. “I still can’t endure any male near Nova.”
“Let’s see how this is going to work. Steele, step toward the doctor. Slowly.”
Steele, big, strong gladiator that he is, steps forward gingerly. He’s on high alert. When he’s about eight fiertos away I begin growling. At seven fiertos the hair on my body stands erect and I leap to my feet.
“Drack doctor! You’ve got to do better than that. I imagine you’ll be traveling tight corridors in the pen area. Try again,” Zar scolds
We keep running this experiment until Steele can get to within three fiertos of me, but I’m sweating profusely and feel like I’ve run for hoaras. Everyone else, even Petra, is now plastered against the glass at the front of the bridge. They’re giving me breathing room while I compose myself. I need it.
“Nova, I hate to say, but you’re going to have to wear this.” Zar holds up a pain/kill collar.
“Shit.” I hear her expletive loud and clear from where she’s sheltered under my arm. Everyone on the bridge except me has worn one of these.
Zar tosses me the control I’ll need to wear on my wrist. “These have been deactivated, of course. I don’t know what possessed us to keep these things after we overthrew the crew of this vessel.”
Nova holds the collar Zar tossed her between two fingers like it’s poisonous. “I’m not putting this on without you showing me it’s harmless.” She shakes her head for emphasis. This strong warrior female is trembling against my body. She must have been badly tortured by one of these for her to have such a visible reaction.
&
nbsp; I relieve her of it and hold it in my left hand while I turn up the dial on the wrist control. She watches as the dial moves from low to high to the kill setting. The collar doesn’t respond in any way.
“Even though it’s not working, I’m not putting it on until I have to.” Her lips are set in a thin line.
“What’s she going to wear?” Steele asks.
I give him a questioning look, a loud growl escaping my lips. If he’s having sexual thoughts about Nova I will tear his jugular vein out with my teeth.
He backs even farther toward the front window. “Obviously she’s playing the role of a sex slave; one you can’t bear to leave behind on your ship. Those clothes,” he gestures at her from feet to head, “don’t look the part.”
“I think we’ve taxed Drayke’s self-control enough,” Zar says with finality. “Whatever she’s wearing will have to do.
“Everyone but Nova will wear a comm and carry a gun. Every male on the ship will be standing by, armed and ready to go. If there’s trouble we can be there quickly.”
“Have a stretcher ready if we need it,” I bark. “We don’t know what shape Braxxus will be in.” I glance at Axxios and see his jaw tighten at the mention of how debilitated his brother might be.
“I think that’s everything.” Zar announces. “We’ll meet at the outer doors tomorrow at 1900.”
Nova
We’re both visibly tense as we ready ourselves for bed. My muscles are strung so tightly they ache. Just touching that collar got my heart racing in fear. It was the first thing they did after I was abducted. They collared me, chipped me with the subdural translator, and showed me a vid of what the collar could do.
After they showed me pictures of an alien screaming in pain, and then having the device literally blow his head off his shoulders, they turned my device on. The pain set every nerve in my body on fire. For a moment I thought I was dying. My captors told me that pain was a one on a scale of one to ten.
I still fought them. After all, I trained as a fighter my whole life. I only made a few attempts before they had me cowed. That was one of the worst parts of my captivity, losing my will to fight back, losing my very will to live.
Drayke put the device on the desk, but I can’t tear my eyes off it.
“We both like Axxios," he tells me as he emerges from the bathroom a towel slung low across his hips, “But you don’t have to do this. This mission is going to be hard on both of us. I can see you’re dreading wearing that collar, Nova. No one can force you to go down to the planet.”
“I’m imagining Axxios’s twin. Dying in some shitty, dirty cell. Possibly lying in his own filth, certainly in pain. I can handle a little fear and some Post-traumatic Stress Disorder to help him. Decision’s made, babe. Tomorrow I’ll put on that fucking collar and get the job done.”
He strides over, puts his arms around me, and kisses the top of my head. “You’re a strong female. It’s but one of your many attractions,” he says with a sinful smile
He’s wearing nothing but a towel, smelling delicious, his blue-black hair still shiny and wet, but my libido is securely in the “off” position. I’m totally preoccupied with tomorrow’s expedition.
I shower quickly, pull on a t-shirt, and crawl in bed next to him. He’s stopped wearing the loincloth to bed. He told me it cuts off his circulation, and does nothing to stop the perma-erection he has. He’s nothing but a gentleman, and it’s somehow soothing to have it pressing into my back as we go to sleep.
I flip over to face him and stroke his damp hair. “I had a thought.”
“I’m always interested in your thoughts, Sweet One.”
“You seem to be a little...calmer after we do...sexual stuff.”
He doesn’t respond, but I know he’s listening.
“I was thinking, tomorrow, before we leave the ship, maybe we should spend some time in the bedroom.”
“I won’t argue sharing time in here with you,” his voice is husky, his erection pulses against my abdomen.
“But do you think it will help?” I ask.
“Perhaps. I’m getting worse every day. I’m sure you’ve noticed. I’m worried I won’t be able to concentrate enough to help Braxxus once we get him on board.”
“But your possessive instincts relax a bit after you...taste me, right?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“So tomorrow we’ll do that right before we leave the ship. And Steele was right about my clothing. I’m going to wear a dress; Grace has one I’ll ask to borrow. If you need to you can…” Okay, this is the most awkward conversation of my life.
“Computer, lights out,” I order so I can finish my freaking sentence. “When we’re on Aeon if you start to lose it, you can have easy access to touch me and smell me and calm yourself down.”
He moans. I don’t know whether it’s out of desire or disgust at his own condition. “I’m honored that you would do such a thing for me, Nova. To...debase yourself in front of onlookers, allow me to paw you in public. It squeezes my hearts to be so...crippled. But you’re right, I may need it.”
He turns me around so we’re spooning, resting his chin on the top of my head. He puts his hand between my legs, two fingers lying along my folds. “You’re right. This calms me. Your body calms me. Your scent soothes me. Go to sleep, Sweet. You’ll need energy for tomorrow.”
Chapter Ten
Nova
“Oh Petra, you look hot!” I exclaim.
Shadow throws me a critical look, obviously disapproving my compliment, but Petra is dressed for her part. She’s wearing a shiny red bra and panty set that gives the word “sexy” a whole new meaning. Shadow looks ready to kill the next person who says anything about the way she’s dressed.
She hits the comm on the wall, “Could one of the women bring an oversized t-shirt to the exit area?” She spears Shadow with a questioning look. “Better?”
He nods almost imperceptibly, his jaw tight.
I barely notice much of this conversation because most of my attention is focused on the pain/kill collar in Drayke’s hand. It’s the moment of truth. I’m going to have to put the damn thing on. Every muscle in my body clenches in distress.
Drayke demonstrates again that the control on his wrist doesn’t activate the collar, then snaps it gently around my neck. Earlier, Steele connected a handle and chain to the collar so I am literally tethered to Drayke.
This is a level of humiliation I’ve never experienced before. I remember the first time I wore a collar. The Reptilian slavemaster slapped it on so hard and so tight it hurt for a week. I drag my thoughts away from that and focus on today.
Today I choose to go on this mission. I’m helping people.
Maddie runs in and hands Petra a t-shirt; on her tiny five-foot frame, it actually looks like a demure dress.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” I try to sound eager although I’m full of dread. I can’t imagine this operation going without a hitch.
“You all know the plan,” Zar tells us. “Everyone but Nova has an active comm unit and a gun. Steele, I see you have your favorite broadsword fastened on your back. Let’s hope you don’t have to use that.
“Petra and Shadow, you don’t need to stay too long. Return by 2300 at the latest. We’ll leave atmo as soon as the five of you are back on board. Every gladiator on the ship is armed and standing by. Should you need anything, we’ll be mobilized in a heartbeat. Be safe.”
Petra and Shadow turn right as soon as we’re at the bottom of the ramp. Steele, Drayke, and I make a left and jog to our coordinates. None of us want this mission to last one second longer than it has to.
The slave pens aren’t far away. They’re near the space docks for quick entry, sales, and exit. Oh my lord, I smell the building before I see it. It’s the cheapest setup imaginable. It reminds me of a big flea market from back home: mostly outdoor pens, with a few little permanent shacks sprinkled around haphazardly. Everything is dilapidated and looks like it has never seen better da
ys because it was built like shit to begin with.
There’s a roof overhead, and rows and rows of open-air barred cages with one occupant in each. Other than shelter from the sun, there are no amenities of any kind. The sun is setting and it’s still well over a hundred sweltering degrees on this shithole planet.
I know some alien species smell worse than others, but the odors assaulting my nose have less to do with the differences in species, and more to do with the total lack of lavatory facilities. These are just pens, like those containing livestock at a rodeo. No beds, no toilets, certainly no running water, just straw floors and metal bars. I’ve seen cattle slated for slaughter with fresher hay and cleaner water. My heart breaks for these beings.
As we approach, I keep my head down, playing the part of the good slave, aware that Drayke controls my leash. The facility manager converges on us from one of the crappy little buildings. This reptilian doesn’t look like he’s missed any meals lately. He’s wiping crumbs off his bulging belly as he walks toward us. I see his demeanor change mid-step from haughty top-of-the-food-chain slavemaster to obsequious toady because of Drayke’s apparent position as a high-ranking Dacian. I hate this motherfucker already.
“Dr. Mereno?” his tone is fawning, smarmy.
Drayke nods arrogantly.
“I’m Oblet, I received the message from your ship that you’re looking for gladiatorial stock for your fighting stable. I have a list of the best candidates already organized for you.” He holds up his pad and approaches.
Drayke tenses, then rises to his full height.
“Dr. Mereno does not like to be within ten fiertos of others,” Steele commands.
Oblet takes a small step back, but the way the nostrils flare in his flat nose makes it clear he doesn’t like taking orders from anyone.