FreedomofThree

by Liberty Stafford

  Brandana could sense her mistresses shaky emotions. Being an empath, she felt everything and wished that she could wrap her arms around the girl. About the same age, both nineteen, they were at the same stages of their lives in so many ways but yet the strict caste system on Irella prevented such a show of kindness. Should Brandana touch Talia, she could be lashed twenty times as a punishment.

  “Shall I begin the clothing ritual?” Brandana asked, not making eye contact with her superior as boundaries decreed.

  “Yes,” she answered without force or relish.

  Irella was a place heavily steeped in tradition. It seemed there had been nothing new added to their history for eons, apart from the irrigation system her mother kept fed with water. Both girls knew what they must do.

  Talia undressed herself which took a very short time. She undid the bow and let her silk nightgown, navy blue and patterned in gold stars, slip over her skin to the plush pink carpet of her room. She trod quietly to the full-length mirror held fast by two gold plated dragons on either side, the symbol of their family name. Brandana busied herself in her wardrobe but from the corner of her eye watched as Talia examined her own body. Her metallic skin caught the last of the sunlight and twinkled faintly. A mound of downy hairs barely covered her modesty, silky as a rabbit, and her breasts glowed like two small globes. Talia sighed and Brandana guessed she was afraid that she would never be touched by anyone in a flurry of real passion.

  Brandana slowly walked around her, draping a white garment over her arms. Talia lifted up her slender arms and Brandana slipped it carefully over her head, certain her mistress was coated in material before she began the adjustments.

  Around her shoulders was a thin, golden hoop covered in soft voile fabric, like suede to the touch, but sheer. Lifting up the hoop and the cowl, Talia’s hair was covered by the soft material, the pointed tip of her triangle showing proudly, a symbol of her regal standing, the covering symbolic of the hymen of virginity. The soft fabric fitted to Talia’s willowy body like a coating of butter. The top dipped into soft folds to reveal her shining chest. From the waist flowed layers of netting spun from pure gold, dotted occasionally with glimmering golden sequins. In front of her delicate feet, Brandana placed a pair of golden slippers, plain and rounded to symbolise femininity. Talia stepped into them and sighed again.

  To finish the ritual, Brandana brought out a tray of Thornid gold jewellery. Irellans have a small amount of metal flake in their systems and therefore can create magnetic patterns upon their skin with metal jewellery. Brandana knew the traditional meeting night pattern she must create upon Talia’s chest. A complicated design made from a mosaic of golden shapes from the tray; trapeziums, diamonds, triangles, abstracts, to create the face of a dragon. Carefully, she placed each piece upon her mistress with a pair of diamond encrusted tweezers whilst Talia waited with a patience befitting a royal virgin bride to be.

  Once finished, Brandana curtseyed and moved away, backing out of the room subserviently. She would be required to wait at the secret side entrance to the bedroom for safety should the two youngsters either love or hate one another too much.

  Talia admired herself in the mirror. Tradition, in this instance, was certainly beautiful even if it was only skin-deep. A quick glance at the clock and knock at the door told her that her hour of Thornitariness was ended.

  “Enter,” she allowed.

  Uno stood sanctimoniously in front of her intended, proud as a peacock. “My sweet, I bring this man for your approval. In the time honoured tradition of our wise ancestors, look upon him and smile.”

  The king was behind Uno who stepped aside with a priggish glance at Devon before he left, still trailing behind his wife. They were alone. Two strangers. Devon still had dark hair which Talia looked at uneasily.

  “What is your name?” she enquired smoothly, aware she was in charge of the entire exchange.

  “Devon.”

  “What is the matter with your hair?”

  “Nothing.”

  Talia almost lost her balance, shocked at the outrage of his non-compliance. “But you bipenes are meant to be blond, aren’t you? And shouldn’t you be curlier?”

  “If you are dissatisfied, send me away.”

  “I might do. You are very insolent.”

  “Listen,” Devon began. “You are very pretty, but are you feeling anything? I mean, any spark? How are we meant to be happily married in this stupid, ancient system? Standing here with you, I can tell. There’s nothing between us. No link. No warmth. No romantic glow. You should call in your mother and tell her the deal’s off.”

  “Don’t presume to give me orders.” Talia said in an unconvincing reprimand.”How old are you?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Older than I, just. That will suffice.”

  Talia plucked a single gold shape from her chest and offered it to him, aware that her bare skin was about to be touched for the first time by a non-royal. Even though only her fingertip would be touched, she quivered at the thought of it.

  “Are you not going to take it?” Talia felt uneasy with this man who would not obey the traditions of their planet.

  “I will not. I hate your traditions and refuse to be bonded to a girl to whom I feel absolutely nothing should I touch your skin.”

  “I don’t understand what this means,” Talia frowned. “Now you should take the golden shape and, in the passing of ten moons, we will be married.”

  “Don’t bank on it.”

  “It is not to be?” Talia’s sweet voice shook with nerves. “I am your intended. We are to be married.”

  “Listen,” Devon adopted an informal tone quite inappropriate to the situation. “I understand what is meant to be, you and me and all that, but I can’t do it. Sorry. I can’t marry someone I don’t love or, hell, someone I don’t even know. Believe me, you’ll thank me for this one day. One day when I am far away from here.”

  “Brandana? Where did you come from?” asked Talia as her servant entered the room from behind an ornate, oriental style modesty screen in pale greens and pinks, decorated with hummingbirds and hibiscus flowers.

  “Come with me,” Brandana beckoned to him.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Talia as she began to hyperventilate.

  “Hurry,” warned Brandana, “before she gets her voice back and calls for the queen. I heard everything. Believe me, the walls in this palace have ears. If you want to live, come with me. Otherwise stay and die. It’s tradition, after all.”

  “How do I know whether I can trust you?” asked Devon. “Death could be preferable to whatever you have to offer. Anything to end this sad existence as a royal puppet.”

  “Your choice, but me, I’m off.”

  “Wait! Give me a minute.”

  “We don’t have a minute.”

  “Fine. Something tells me I should trust you.”

  “Take a chance,” urged Brandana. “Quickly. For your life, come with me.”

  “Brandana,” Talia managed to gasp. “What are you doing? Be quiet at once. Mother!”

  Devon felt a rush of adrenaline burn his throat. Brandana, it seemed, was the lesser of two evils in his life at present. At least with her, he had a chance at freedom and decided to snatch it. Whether it worked or not, he knew it had to be worth a shot. He disappeared behind the screen, knocking it over, and ran towards a nearby door which Brandana locked swiftly behind them.

  Light was poor and dusty in the narrow stone corridor where he found himself but there was little time to stop and look round to gather any bearings. His guide was moving swiftly and he followed with equal haste. Eventually the corridor placed them via a secret entrance into Brandana’s quarters; a small room with low ceiling but which smelled invitingly tropical.

  “Follow me!” she exclaimed and disappeared into the square laundry chute entrance, grabbing first a long, black, cylindrical bag which was ready packed at its side.

  Devon had no time to think. As always, his life was o
ut of control but this time he was enjoying it because it tasted of liberty. Voices nearby began to shout and a general hullabaloo was raised throughout the palace as the alarm was sounded to find the missing bipene. He squeezed his medium sized frame into the laundry chute and let himself go. He whooshed down the smooth metal shaft, his toga crumpling up around his waist, revealing all his glory, letting his backside and rear penis receive stinging friction burns where the metal panels were joined by rivets.

  Without warning, Devon plopped out into a pile of dirty laundry where soiled sheets coiled around his arms until he fought his way clear. Brandana was waiting for him with her hands on her hips, looking around, searching for danger with her eager feline senses. She took Devon’s arm, pulled him up and together they ran from the steamy condensation of the laundry room out into the palace grounds and towards the edge of the nearby cliff face. Devon held his breath as Brandana easily launched herself over the cliff edge and began to slide rapidly and roughly down, her heels scraping over the dusty, crumbling soil, scraping loose any rough patches of green scrub growth. He began to tumble rather than make a conscious leap, and soon his bare legs were grazing over the rough ground, his toga no protection whatsoever.

  The hill was steep and, although their descent was painful, it was also quick and meant they would not be followed. From the bottom, Brandana dusted herself off and sucked at a raw wound on her wrist whilst checking for the tell-tale dust trails of followers, of which she could luckily see none. Devon had also reached the bottom and was nursing a painful wrenched elbow joint. His white toga was shredded and stained orange from the landscape, red from his wounds, but he felt more alive than ever before.

  They had arrived in a large clearing where nothing grew and orange tumbleweeds rolled. Docked nearby was a space cruiser, dark and imposing, a terrifying sight to Devon who had never seen anything like it in his short, sheltered lifespan.

  “What is going on?” Devon asked, confused.

  “An escape route if you want it.” Brandana ran for the cruiser, catching her breath and his arm while he lagged behind. “Come on!”

  A dirty looking man waited in the doorway for them, dressed in tight black leather trousers with a grubby red bandana holding some long, greasy braids away from his narrowed violet eyes. As they hurtled towards his craft, he lifted them both roughly up by the wrists. Brandana hugged him quickly and fiercely. He curled his lip up at Devon and his handlebar moustache twitched, revealing the faint lines of a scar across his chin. Underneath the grease, which smeared across his cheeks after fixing an engine problem whilst he waited, he was actually rather handsome. Absentmindedly, he cleansed his hands over his ripped tee shirt.

  “So good to see you, Hans!” Brandana exulted.

  “You too, Brandy. Who’s this? Looks like you brought a pretty little decoration for the Christmas tree.”

  “Leave him alone, he’s alright. His name’s Devon, right? He’s been through enough and he’s with us now. How about you? What’s the situation?”

  “It’s been a rough few years on Jendo without you,” Hans gruffly spoke. “We would have come sooner only the battle took longer than I thought. Lo-City’s still full of pirates who hate Kirslarns.”

  “I like your ship. Seems sturdy,” Brandana said, looking around.

  Hans proudly said, “Got it from a Ratt Pirate. They always were useless at cards. He didn’t let it go easily, though.”

  “Devon, meet my little brother,” Brandana introduced Devon and Hans shook his hand fiercely. “We’re from Jendo but we got separated years ago. We used to live in Kirslar and, when the war came and our city got bombarded with sex travellers, our parents sent me here to work for the palace, to keep me safe. Our planets have similar atmospheres. Mother thought I would be happy here.”

  “I don’t know why she bothered,” Hans growled. “Brandana’s always been able to look after herself. Anyway, the war cooled off and I decided to come back for her. She’s got fire in her blood, all right. The Ratt Pirate and any Suterons in hiding, better look out now we’re back together.”

  “Your elbow, let me see it.” Brandana stretched out Devon’s arm causing him to wince. “This wound doesn’t look good. It’s very swollen. Can you help him, Hans?”

  “Of course I can. I can do anything, remember? Come with me, pretty boy, there’s a first aid box on this ship somewhere. Brandana, set a course for Jendo, if you can remember how.”

  Chapter Three

  Freedom Beckons

  While Brandana, Devon and Hans flew away to relative safety, it hit the fan back in the palace in Irella. Queen Uno burst into her daughter’s room to find her on the floor, sobbing her heart out. She immediately sent her guards down the secret passageway to find the others, screeching about how she never trusted that girl, but even though they got close, they returned empty handed apart from sketchy reports of a black space cruiser leaving the planet from the bottom of the dry gulch.

  Queen Uno salivated wolfishly over the shaking frame of her shamed daughter. “They will be found! Husband!”

  “Oh dear,” he mused in contrast.

  “Don’t just stand there! We must find them.”

  “I’m afraid they’ve gotten away, my dear. Don’t worry. There are at least a couple of other bipenes almost ready in the compound.”

  “That’s not the point! That boy has a contract, a life contract to fulfil. He will marry my daughter, whether he likes it or not. Talia, Talia, tell me true, did he touch you? Did your fingers meet?”

  “No, Mother.”

  “Ha, that doesn’t matter. He has already set foot into hallowed ground, into our palace and into your bedroom. This is an outrage! A complete insult! I want that boy before me. I’ll make him suffer.”

  “Mother, please, if he’s gone, leave it be.”

  “Never! He belongs here. We practically raised the boy, for goodness sake. No, I want him back here. He must answer to me before we go any further.”

  “But Mother, what about my wedding?”

  Uno stroked her daughter with a touch that made Talia shudder. “My dear, you must wait of course. That boy, Devon, will be here again soon, then all can proceed as planned.”

  “But Father said…”

  “Never mind about that silliness. You will wait. Now, I have heard about a man who offers a bounty hunting service. I think he and I should have a little chat. Right away. There are a couple of people I need him to locate.”

  Chapter Four

  Like Minded

  Devon had been ordered to bed by Hans after he forcibly popped his elbow back into joint by brute force. When Devon declined, Hans shoved him into the bed and growled at him to stay there until further notice. Devon was too tired to argue so lay back on the soft pillow to take in his surroundings.

  His room on the cruiser was small, just big enough to take the length of a bed, with a basic wardrobe on the opposite side. A grey, leather-like fabric covered the walls and ceiling and soft linoleum in sky blue provided a warm floor covering. A strip light of blue neon shone at the bottom of the door and, in the event of emergency, these lights would become the crew’s only guide.

  His bed was soft and clean; white sheets, white pillow, sky blue blanket. Perhaps Hans had a touch of design genius Devon wondered quietly and reminded himself never to broach that subject with the man. A soft, mysterious white noise, barely audible, filled the craft and created a strangely calming atmosphere. Someone was turning the handle of his door and Devon sat straight up in bed, revealing a strong, muscular, darkly haired torso.

  “Can I come in?” Brandana was at the door, her long, white hair swaying gently beside her waist.

  “Sure.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  Devon moved his elbow. “It’s bruised, but nothing much. Your brother did a good job even though I would have preferred a trained doctor and a bit of TLC.”

  “He is a trained doctor, pretty much. Before the war came and interrupted everything, Hans had
practically finished his training to become a doctor. After the Ratt Pirate and Suteron attacked, he found a better outlet for his skills. Goodness knows how many lives he’s saved in our crusades, and taken, I suppose.”

  Brandana stepped into Devon’s room and shut the door furtively. For a while, they were quiet and simply looked at one another. Her tall, serpentine body entranced him, and had done ever since he had first seen her beckoning him to safety. She still wore the black sari which nipped in at her waist and legs and revealed a pair of curvaceous, lightly tanned ankles. Likewise, since their initial meeting Brandana had felt sparks of attraction seeing Devon trussed up ready for consummation in his white toga with gold braid, a complete mismatch to his burly stature, dark glare and rebellious mane.

  “Thank you, by the way, for helping me,” Devon nodded.

  “Not a problem. We were both in a bad situation.”

  “Slaves, both of us. No better,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Not now. Now we are free.” Her empathy skills suddenly latched on to a huge wave of anger from Devon. Brandana decided to change the subject. “So, you are a bipene?”

  “Yes, but I’m not like the others.”

  “Yes, you have your own mind, don’t you?”

  “It’s a blessing and a curse,” Devon admitted. “I could never have submitted to marrying someone just because they were royalty and just because they told me to.”

  “That’s admirable,” Brandana smiled.

  Devon was relaxed now, free from his bonds and the planet which tried to crush his spirit. Brandana was to thank for that. He felt pangs of arousal for his saviour but tried to keep them secret.

  Devon’s lips parted and his tongue showed occasionally as his mouth dried. He felt a touch of moisture forming on the top of both his penises which were getting harder by the second.

  “How are you, also?” Devon tried to avert his erotic feelings. “You took a few falls yourself.”

  “I don’t know,” Brandana replied and slid down the top half of her sari, revealing spherical breasts and small, erect, lilac nipples. “Will you check me for bruising?”