Sex Slaves 2: Waiting For Yesterday

by Lorie O'Clare

  WAITING FOR YESTERDAY

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, November 2004

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  1337 Commerce Drive, #13

  Stow, OH 44236-0787

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0070-6

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  WAITING FOR YESTERDAY © 2004 LORIE O’CLARE

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Warning:

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Waiting For Yesterday has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Waiting For Yesterday

  Lorie O’Clare

  Chapter One

  The sound of Dree’s footsteps echoed in the wide hallway. She didn’t care. Let them discover her here. It wouldn’t matter now if they beat her to death, whipped her badly enough to leave scars, tortured her until she didn’t remember her name. There were some things she simply would not put up with. And His Majesty was about to hear about it.

  Dree of Torl didn’t care if she had less rank than the dirty boys who scrubbed the kitchen floors, scampering for scraps to take home to their families. The elite on this planet didn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone beneath them. And that was a fairly large population. King Sorale of Benox, this filthy planet she now called home, didn’t care about any of them.

  That was about to change.

  “Dree. No.” The hushed voice startled her.

  Dree squinted into the shadows near one of the large windows. “Bean. Is that you?” The gaunt man leaned against the wall as he moved toward her. “What are you doing here?”

  Then she saw the material drenched in blood wrapped loosely around his hand. “What happened to you?”

  Dree reached for him, but Bean pulled his injured hand closer to his bare chest, avoiding her touch.

  “Where are you going?” He ignored her question.

  “King Sorale’s guards just beat Dela. All she did was not move fast enough.” Dree felt her anger rage through her all over again at how they had treated the poor Benox woman.

  Bean shook his head. “Don’t risk your life over one of them. The people of Benox don’t care about themselves. And they care less about us.” He raised his blood soaked hand, the rag wrapped around it appearing to be his shirt. “I just lost a finger because I accidentally touched the King’s food while serving him. He’s insane, Dree. Don’t go in there.”

  Dree looked down the large hallway toward the solid wooden doors at the other end. The King’s court was on the other side, carefully closed in so that he wouldn’t have to endure the stench of the world he ruled. She hated him so much she shook from the intensity of it.

  “Dree. Don’t.” Bean’s soft-spoken words were meant to persuade her away.

  But returning her attention to him, seeing how atrophied he was without his shirt on, hardly any muscle clinging to his protruding bones, she couldn’t stop now. Bean could have been a good-looking man, a strong man. But neglect and fear had turned him into a fading shadow of what could have been.

  “You need to get that looked at.” She nodded to his hand.

  Once again he pressed it to his chest. “Don’t worry about me. Take care of yourself. You face a fate that would make you beg for death if you go in there.”

  His words made her insides tighten. She’d heard rumors of the atrocities of King Sorale, seen the results of his mutilation on the lower-ranking citizens of Benox.

  “I have to do this.” She stared at the large wooden doors at the end of the hallway. A cold sweat spread over her, giving her chills. If she didn’t keep moving she would lose her nerve. Already she was terrified of what she needed to do. But someone had to do something. “Sometimes I wonder if he even knows what goes on around him.”

  “He knows.” Bean’s words were like a cold rush of wind, chilling her to the bone.

  Dree searched his pale lavender eyes, proof of his Kopah heritage, the slave trader plantation that had bordered her home at Torl on the planet Poltar. Once they had been slaves for the elite, pampered and living in the lap of luxury. Their only training being how to sexually please their masters. But that life had been destroyed, wiped out in a single day.

  “Go to the kitchen. Get your hand taken care of. I’ll be down there in a little bit.” She had no idea if she would or not. But if she didn’t sound confident, she would lose her nerve. “Go.”

  Bean looked down. Without another word he hurried down the hall. Taking orders was in their nature. And that is what made this so difficult. Dree needed to stand up for her people before they were all destroyed at the hands of bored guards. She needed to give the orders.

  She tucked loose strands of her white hair behind her ear, then ran her damp palms down the front of her loose-fitting shirt. It was the same kind of shirt Bean had wrapped around his hand. Simple and without color, the rough fabric hard on her skin, Dree’s shirt fit her as poorly as her pants did. But the unattractive clothes kept her from getting raped, usually.

  She put one foot in front of the other, forcing herself forward while her heart moved to her throat and pounded painfully. Her hand shook when she reached for the long metal handle on the huge door. The metal was cold, her fingers barely wrapping around it.

  Dree took a deep breath, thinking how the door appeared to have been made for giants. She suddenly felt very small.

  This had to be done before she lost all will and turned tail to run. She gave the door a push. It barely moved. She leaned against it, and managed to open the door enough to squeeze inside.

  Another world was on the other side of that door. Dree couldn’t believe it. She stood in a room so large, with ceilings so high, she almost thought she was outside. And indeed, large open balconies on either end of the room allowed a breeze scented with the fragrance of a multitude of flowers to drift through the area.

  People moved around in front of her, beautifully clothed, chatting easily. They didn’t notice her. The relaxed atmosphere immediately made her homesick, memories of how good her life had once been as Torl’s slave hitting her hard.

  “Are you lost?” A guard stepped in front of her, his hands on his hips, looking at her with disgust.

  “Gods.” A woman nearby screeched.

  “What is it?” Another woman, adorned in the beautiful silk the elite wore, her tattooed body
beautifully displayed through the delicate material, covered her mouth, looking at Dree in terror.

  “I want to see the King.” Dree tried to speak clearly, hoping for more respect if she sounded like she had her wits about her.

  The two women hurried away, fanning their noses while they whispered to each other.

  The guard laughed. “I doubt he would want to see you.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust and reached out to grab her.

  Dree tried to duck, but his large hand gathered the back of her shirt and a fair amount of her hair, and dragged her through the room.

  “I can walk.” She tried to pull his hand off of her. But the best she could do was wrap her fingers around his thick wrist behind her head and try not to lose her balance while he hurried her past curious onlookers.

  Two palace boys, wearing the loose-fitting pants of the higher-ranking servants, hurried to open another set of doors when they saw them approach.

  “No. I want to see the King.” Dree struggled, afraid he was sending her right back to the outer courtyard.

  She shut up quickly when she realized they had entered another finely adorned room of the inner castle.

  “What is this?” An older woman, her silk darkened, showing her privileged status not to be seen naked, sounded annoyed.

  “She’s one of those Poltar slaves.” The guard said the name of her home planet with disgust. “I don’t know where she came from, but you take care of her.”

  With that, he tossed her at the woman’s feet and then turned and left, the large doors closing silently behind him.

  Dree hurried to her feet. She knew this woman was a higher-ranking slave—no more. And Dree had her freedom. Her former mistress had set her free when their home had been attacked. Regardless of what King Sorale dictated, Dree outranked this woman. Granted she had no home, no livelihood, and lived no better than the slaves, but she was not a slave.

  The woman looked her over from head to toe, her expression a mixture of disbelief and contempt.

  “I can’t help my appearance.” And she wouldn’t apologize for it either. “The King might appreciate my message better in my current state.”

  She doubted it, but held her ground while the slave assessed her.

  “Why is this here?” A man spoke from behind her and she turned, and then looked up at the giant brute who glowered over her.

  “This has a name.” She pointed at her chest, the man following the action with little interest. “I am Dree of Torl and I want to see the King.”

  The man walked around her slowly, Dree turning too so that her back was never to him.

  “Bring her.” He turned and walked away, his clothing foreign to her, along with his accent. “I can’t tell if there is anything there with all that filth on her.”

  The woman slave clicked her tongue at Dree, gesturing for her to follow. It took some effort not to slap at her hand when the woman poked her with a bony finger to get her moving. She followed the man, her heart racing while she tried to keep her thoughts focused. It was hard to take in her surroundings and keep in mind what she planned to say to the King.

  Everything around her was so beautiful, so elegant, nicer than anything she’d seen on Torl.

  Another slave boy opened a door when they approached. The man entered the dimly lit room, clapping his hands a couple of times.

  “Clean her and then bring her to me.” He turned around and left without another word.

  Dree realized he’d spoken to two slave women. They were naked, fine silver hoop earrings pierced through each nipple and a dainty silver chain around their waists and necks. The older woman pushed her from behind and Dree lost her footing.

  She fell into a pool of very warm water, a cement bathtub dug large enough for an orgy. The warm scented vapors rising from the water alerted her immediately.

  “Damn it to all the hells.” She reached for the side, holding her breath while she pushed herself out of the drugged water.

  “You need a bath.” The older woman tried to push her back into the water.

  The two naked slave girls tried also. Dree fought all of them. The two girls being no challenge. Their movements were slow and lethargic from having spent so much time around the heavily drugged water.

  “You will not drug me and make me stupid.” Dree pushed hard, forcing the older woman to stumble backwards.

  The woman tried to hold on to Dree to keep from falling and succeeded in ripping Dree’s shirt when she fell.

  “Call the guards.” The woman scooted backwards from Dree, yelling at the drugged slaves. “Hurry. She is mad.”

  Dree wanted to yell at the old lady to shut up. There wasn’t time though. She couldn’t get caught.

  Jumping around the two worthless slave girls, she pushed against the heavy door.

  “You don’t look too clean to me.” The slave boy at the door was rather mouthy with the absence of guards.

  Dree shoved the boy, who was actually not much smaller than she was, into the bathing room. She shut the door, closing the four of them in the drug-filled room. Then glancing up and down the hallway, she chose the direction opposite where she’d come from.

  Potted plants, standing taller than she, with leaves as big as her face, blocked part of her view of the large foyer at the end of the hallway. But they also proved a good shield. She wrung out her hair, glancing down as she did at her soaked and torn clothes. There would be less chance of drawing attention to herself if she were naked.

  Footsteps sounded, approaching ahead. She pressed herself against the stone wall, its cold hard surface matching the atmosphere of the palace.

  “Do you think His Majesty will go along with it?” A man spoke, the footsteps slowing.

  Dree peeked around the large leaves spotting two men both wearing long cloaks. They weren’t dressed like everyone else. These two wore dark-colored clothes made out of material so thick she couldn’t see through them. Their bodies were completely covered.

  “That is why you are here, to ensure that he does.” The second man had lowered his voice, speaking so only his companion could hear him.

  The two men had stopped within feet of Dree. If she wanted, she could reach out and touch their strange clothing.

  Her body shook, but she dared not breathe, and did her best not to even blink. Long daggers hung from their belts. She could see laser guns strapped at their hips. Never before had she seen so many weapons all at once.

  But that wasn’t what caught her attention. Throughout her years as a sex slave, her body had never responded to a male of any race the way it did right now. Her heart raced, although no longer from fear. Suddenly her breasts seemed swollen, an ache growing in them while her nipples hardened with need. Slowly the ache spread through her while she watched the two men. These two were the sexiest men she’d ever seen in her life.

  Chapter Two

  The sooner Marc Torin could get out of King Sorale’s palace, the happier he would be. He’d shown up, as ordered. Now he just wanted to get the fuck out of there.

  “Don’t play games with the King.” Trent Dar gave him a shrewd look, those coal black eyes of his not blinking once. “He may appear insane, but know now Torin, he can be very cruel when he feels he’s been cornered.”

  “I didn’t corner him.” Marc stopped, glancing around them. He didn’t see anyone, but he didn’t trust the walls in this gaudy presentation of wealth. “If he viewed any of my comments as threats, that is for him to lose sleep over, not me.”

  “Don’t get too sure of yourself.” Trent Dar didn’t look around him, but kept that non-blinking gaze of his hooked on Marc.

  Marc wasn’t too sure of himself. His people suffered under the leadership of King Sorale, but he hadn’t figured out the best approach to solving the problem. When the King had complained that their communities flourished too much and that he needed more tax from them, Marc had refused. He hadn’t been surprised when the messengers from the palace brought the formal notice saying the King wished
to see him.

  “All I am sure of is that today we don’t have to pay his damned tax.” Marc waved a hand at the marble walls. “Like he needs anything from any of my people.”

  Really all the King had control of was his kingdom, and he did a lousy job with that spread of land. Under all treaties on paper, King Sorale ruled all of Benox, but the man ignored everything outside his kingdom unless word got back to him that parts of the planet were flourishing too much.

  He looked down and something caught his eye. A puddle of water pooled from behind the potted plant. Maybe it had been overwatered. If so, it was the first thing out of place he’d seen since he had arrived here. But then he noticed something else. Feet. Small feet. Small, dirty feet.

  “What do we have here?” He looked around the potted plant into the terrified eyes of a young lady.

  At least he thought she was a young lady. Marc reached for her, pulling her out from behind the plant to get a better look.

  “What were you doing hiding behind there?” He had never seen a softer shade of gray than the color of her eyes. And the way she looked at him. Her body shook. He assumed she was terrified, but her eyes didn’t show fear—more like curiosity.

  “I want to see the King.” She didn’t sound like the drugged sex slaves that strolled throughout the courtyards. She spoke clearly, never looking away from him.

  Trent made a snorting sound, either disbelieving her or finding her humorous. Marc wasn’t sure. He glanced at the man who focused on the young woman. Marc returned his attention to her as well.

  “And you think standing behind a plant will get you an audience?”

  She gave him a look to kill. “Hardly. I ran from some of the guards. Who are you?”

  Her manner didn’t match her appearance. Marc didn’t know why he wanted to know more about her, but he did. She was absolutely filthy and smelled like she slept with the garbage, or worse. Her clothes were torn and hung on her, making it hard to see what she really looked like. But she didn’t wear the thin silk of the castle sex slaves. And she didn’t act like one.