by Carew, Opal
“Level-three means all three orifices are virgin. Two means two are; one means only one. Level-two-B means only the mouth is not virgin, and level-two-A means the anus.”
Bahrd lurched to his feet and started unbuckling his pants as he moved toward Shena. He pulled his dangling prick out of his pants and pushed it at Shena’s mouth.
Shena cringed in revulsion.
Dark Hair grabbed Bahrd’s arms before he could push it against her lips.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Well, I ain’t been paid yet, and since she sucked cock before, I’m aimin’ to get my share before she’s sold.”
“Not a wise business move.”
“Eh?”
“I said she is technically a level-two-B,” Blond Hair explained. “In cases like this, we have some leeway. Given only one incident, we don’t have to disclose that information and can sell her as a full virgin.”
Bahrd lurched forward again.
“If one’s okay, two won’t make a difference.”
Blond Hair shoved Bahrd back into his chair.
“When buying a virgin, our patrons desire a woman who is naïve in the ways of sex,” Blond Hair said. “Two times can very well make a difference, but more importantly, it will put us outside our regulated tolerance level. We have a clear understanding with Mr. Wakefield. He is entitled to the full amount for this virgin. If you wish to have her perform oral sex on you, you will be required to pay the difference.”
He eyed Shena. “How much?”
Shena knew he’d be reluctant to admit that her father was dead. They’d probably buy her anyway, but the weight of her father’s status behind the deal gave him a better bargaining position.
“One thousand local credits.”
“A thousand?” His fists clenched. “No woman is worth that.”
Shena gulped a sigh of relief as he shoved his limp member away and zipped up.
“Look, you’re not leaving for a few days,” Bahrd continued. “How ’bout I bring back a few friends, maybe twenty or so. We’ll split the thou’. A lot of ’em would love to fuck her face. Fifty each wouldn’t be so bad.”
Shena shuddered at the thought, her already queasy stomach lurching.
“Out of the question,” Dark Hair responded. “If you paid the thousand and used her, she would then be officially classified as level-two-B, and we’d make her available in the brothel while we’re here. In that case, we would keep the thousand plus the fifty per man.”
Shena shuddered again. Her father had told her the slavers often put their slaves into the local brothels. A big attraction was the night they made the locally purchased slaves available. The men seemed to love the opportunity to be with women they knew and couldn’t have had before.
Bahrd’s expression turned sour. “Fine. Just give me the money.”
Several moments later, with the exchange of money and a bill of sale declaring payment for a full virgin, Bahrd was on his way.
Shena glanced around, wondering what would come next. She didn’t have long to wait. Dark Hair grasped her arm at the wrist and elbow, and before she had a chance to pull away, Blond Hair pressed a metal rod against her skin. Searing pain and the smell of burning flesh assaulted her at the same time. She cried out, tears prickling at her eyes. When he removed the rod, she saw a circle about an inch in diameter burned into the tender white flesh about three inches from her wrist. A single line radiated from the centre of the circle to the edge.
Dark Hair exclaimed in some foreign language, then yelled at Blond Hair. He disappeared into the other room and returned a moment later, holding a metal device. When he brought it near her, Shena cringed, but Blond Hair held out her arm while the other held the device to the branded skin. Seconds later, the mark, along with the lingering pain, disappeared.
What an amazing healing device. But why in the world had they inflicted the brand on her, only to remove it? Blond Hair continued to hold her arm, and Dark Hair put the healing device down, then grabbed the rod again. He fiddled with a lever on the end of it, then pressed it into her flesh once again. She cried out, then whimpered as they branded her once again. This time the mark was a simple circle.
Dazed, she stared at the angry red skin as the men placed metal bands, connected by a chain, around her wrists. One of them led her out the door and around the back to a truck. She’d heard the word in reference to the self-powered vehicles the slavers, and some of the other rich merchants, used to transport goods from the spaceport to the market. Another transgression allowed to the wealthy off-worlders who could buy themselves past the law.
The door on the back of the truck creaked open, revealing twenty or more women packed inside, sitting along each side of the truck or on the floor. Her captor pushed her inside and closed the door behind her. A little light entered the dismal space from a small window in the door. No one said a word. Shena continued to stand, uncomfortable with so many bodies so close.
About twenty minutes later, the door opened again and two more dazed women were pushed into the truck. The door closed behind them.
A rumbling started, and the vehicle lurched forward, slamming Shena against one of the newcomers, who hit the door with a thud. The floor bounced below them. Shena pressed her hand against the door and eased herself to the floor, as did the other two women.
About a half-hour later, the truck stopped and the door opened.
Four hooded slavers stood outside.
“Get out.”
Shena was glad of the breeze across her face as she pushed herself from the truck and the heavy closeness of the air inside.
The slaver ship lay about a hundred meters ahead. Big, flat, dull silver. The hull, which had always appeared smooth from a distance, was made up of all kinds of panels with handles and devices jutting out. The ships had always looked so tiny up in the sky, but this one seemed gigantic, with its yawning door and the darkness within.
The guards herded the women onto the ramp leading to the door. Shena’s knees almost buckled as she realized her father’s nightmare threat had finally become a reality.
She had been sold to the slavers.
The large hatch closed behind them, blocking out the setting sun and probably her last view of her world.
Shena and the others were led to a large open area just inside the ship’s entrance. One by one, their chains were removed, and they were left standing there for a long time. Finally, a tall, bearded man followed by two guards came and led them into a narrow corridor. After a few turns left and right, one of the guards opened a door to an empty room about fifteen feet square. The women plodded inside, glancing around. In the walls, there were niches about six feet long and two feet high. They were stacked six high, about twenty-four in all. Shena did a quick count of the women. Twenty-two including herself.
“I think that’s where we sleep,” one woman whispered.
“Silence.” The tall, bearded man strode into the center of the room. A guard closed the door.
“Most of you will be taken to E’Le’Dor, where you will be sold as slaves. Along the way, we will stop at two more worlds, where we will pick up more slaves. When we are on planet, many of you will be loaned to the local brothels.”
“What happens to the ones who aren’t taken to E’Le’Dor?” a woman to his right asked.
Shena didn’t see exactly what happened, but she did see the woman fall to the floor, writhing in pain, one of the guards standing over her.
Ignoring the woman’s wails, the speaker continued. “I didn’t say you could ask questions.”
He paced a few feet, then back again.
“Once you are sold, your new owner can do anything he wants to you. He can touch you anywhere. He can fuck you anywhere. He can make you suffer in any way he likes. He can even kill you.”
He stared at them with steely eyes. “Get used to the fact that your body is his. Learn to pleasure him, and you may survive longer.”
He paced again. “Never m
ake eye contact with a normal person. As a slave, you must keep your eyes downcast at all times.”
He pointed to Shena. “You. Come here.”
Butterflies swarmed through her stomach as she stepped forward.
“Sit.”
She glanced around. There was nowhere to sit down.
He pointed at her with a black rod about six inches long. Intense, rippling pain shot through her, frying every nerve-end.
“I said sit!”
She crumpled to the ground, then sat cross-legged.
He nodded. “Better. Now, look at this.”
She glanced up at the black rod he held in front of him. He shifted it in front of his face, stopping in front of his eyes. Her gaze met his for a brief instant.
“I told you never to make eye contact!” he snapped.
He pointed the rod at her again. This time, the pain became completely immobilizing. She fell to the floor, writhing. Her limbs flung outward and her body twitched involuntarily as every nerve-end, every muscle, every organ felt as though it would explode. She prayed for anything, even death, to end the excruciating torture.
Finally, the pain released her body, and she sucked in air, lying on the floor like a wounded animal, unable to move.
“I hope this demonstration will help you all remember the basic rules. Now, all of you, get into the bed slots and sleep.”
He walked away. She felt soft hands lift her. Two of the other slaves hooked Shena’s arms over their shoulders
“Can you walk?” one asked.
Shena tried to move the muscles of her legs, but they did not respond.
“No.” The sound released from her mouth on a breath of air, barely audible.
The women carried her to the nearest column of niches and laid her onto the floor, then slid her into the lowest bed slot.
Shena’s heart thumped loudly as she glanced at the close walls around her. She felt like she was in a coffin. Could it get any worse than this?
A few moments later, the lights went out, leaving her in pitch-black darkness. She felt as though she’d been buried alive.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Shena awoke exhausted, but relieved to climb out of the tiny sleeping space and thankful to find her limbs working fine again, if a little stiff. Most of the night she’d lain awake, despair coursing through her at the thought of Keern’s death.
She and the other women were handed bowls of warm, tasteless food that didn’t quite fill their stomachs. Then they were led outside the ship to a large, fenced area with over a hundred women inside. Shena’s group consisted of the women taken in yesterday. The other women had been with the slavers longer, she realized, as evidenced by their downcast eyes and dirty, bedraggled appearance.
Once inside the pen, Shena stayed away from the fences. There were several men in the area, some loading and unloading wagons or performing various other tasks and some just milling about. One was reading a newspaper, and the word “Herrington” caught her eye. It was in the front-page headline. She stared, trying to make out the rest, but with the way he had it folded, the only parts she could make out were “Herrington” and “Wak.” The man shifted the paper, and the word “Dead” became visible.
Her heart thundered in her chest. The paper held the answer to the question she so desperately wanted answered. Was Keern still alive?
She grasped the wire of the fence and strained to read more, but the man with the paper was too far away.
“What is it, honey?” one of the other women, a tall brunette, asked.
“That newspaper.” She pointed at the man. “It has the name of ... someone I know. I think he might have been killed.”
“You’re new, right? Well, you could ask the guy to give you the paper.”
“You think he’d just give it to me?”
The woman laughed. “Not for free. Just show him your assets.”
Shena stared at her, wide-eyed.
“You might as well get used to using them to your advantage.”
Shena tightened her hands around the wire.
“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t see the mark.” The woman’s gaze had come to rest on the circle on Shena’s arm. “You’d get in big trouble for that.”
The woman glanced at the man with the paper. “Is it really important to you?”
Shena nodded.
The woman called out to the guy. “Hey, you. With the newspaper.” The man glanced toward her. “I’d love a little news. How ’bout you give me that paper?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What’ll ye give me for it?”
She ran her hands over her breasts. “I could show you these.”
He stepped closer, chewing a toothpick.
“I can see lots of those for free when the graebers come bribin’ ye with food.”
One of the other women whispered in Shena’s ear. “Part of the payoff to the local police for the slavers to operate here is that they let them come and offer food in exchange for favors from the women.” She pointed to places in the fence with holes large enough for things to be passed in and out.
Shena’s new friend opened the buttons of her top, slowly, then parted the fabric enough to show a little cleavage. The man’s gaze locked on her fleshy curves.
“So you don’t want to see them?”
“As I said, I’ll see ’em later for free.”
“Maybe. But you won’t get to touch them.” The woman made her voice sultry and low.
His gaze remained riveted on her hand as she slid it inside and stroked herself.
“It’s just a little newspaper,” she continued in that silky tone. “You can buy yourself another.”
“Come over here,” he said as he moved to one of the openings in the fence.
She stepped close, but not too close. “Do we have a deal?”
“I don’t know. Let me see what I’ll get.”
The woman pulled the fabric further apart, just short of revealing her nipples.
One of the other women who had overheard Shena’s desire to see the paper leaned close to him and said in a muffled whisper that Shena could just barely hear, “She only wants the fashion section. Give her a page at a time.”
He smiled, then said, “Show me all of ’em, and I’ll give you the first page.”
The dark-haired woman pulled open her top, and his jaw dropped. She had the largest breasts Shena had ever seen. He shoved the first page through the bars. The woman who’d whispered grabbed the page and carried it over to Shena.
“Now come over here so I can touch them,” he demanded.
The brunette buttoned up her top and turned away.
“Hey, I thought you wanted this?” He waved the paper, clutched tightly in his hand.
He grabbed one of the women through the bars and dragged her against the fence, but one of the guards pushed him away. The women laughed, which made the guy angrier, but the guards prodded him on his way.
Shena pulled the page open and began to read the article, which revealed that her father had gone after the Herringtons and killed one of them. Her heart lurched as she read the words, until she saw the first name.
Will. Not Keern.
She relaxed, relieved, yet knowing Keern must be suffering the loss of his brother. The words blurred as she read how her father had killed him and the eldest remaining brother, Keern, had killed her father.
Her father was dead, and she felt nothing for him. Only a coldness deep inside.
The article went on to say Keern blamed the daughter for his brother’s death because she’d lied about an encounter between them, after which, according to the reporter, she’d claimed Keern had raped her.
She remembered his tender touch and the way he’d brought her exquisite pleasure. He must feel mortally wounded believing she would call such a thing rape.
The words at the bottom of the page indicated that the article continued on a later page, which Shena did not have. The paper dropped from her hands.
A fist tighte
ned around her heart as she thought about the pain Keern must be in.
He blamed her for his brother’s death. And rightly so. Although she hadn’t told her father Keern had raped her, she had verified his identity to her father. Maybe if she had lied ... Maybe if she had held her tongue ...
If only she could change things so that she and Keern had never met.
Her soul ached as she could almost feel his hatred gripping her.
* * * * *
Two days after Will’s funeral, Keern and his family sat in court. He and the chief constable had gone back to the Wakefield house and tried to find Shena, but no one knew her whereabouts, or so they had claimed. As the judge entered the courtroom and sat at his desk, Keern glanced around. Still no Shena.
After listening to all the statements from Keern’s family and their men, the chief constable had agreed they had acted in self-defense, but with so many rumors bouncing around about the reason for Wakefield’s attack, this hearing was being held to determine if Keern would be tried for the rape of Shena Wakefield and possibly the murder of Henry Wakefield. Since Shena was the key witness, Keern was amazed she wasn’t here.
As the proceedings progressed, he kept an eye on the door and another on the clock, wondering when she would make her entrance. As the minutes ticked away, he began to realize she wasn’t coming. His gut twisted as he wondered if something had happened to her -- and cursed himself for caring.