Sex Slaves 2: Waiting For Yesterday

by Lorie O'Clare

  Dree wanted to cry out her protests when the guards laid hands on her. Her mouth was too dry, her lips quivering too much to speak. The rods her hands and feet were bound to apparently were mobile. She managed a cry of surprise when suddenly they wheeled her away from the King and through the crowd of onlookers.

  Chapter Seven

  Marc searched the growing crowd, making a mental count of how many of his men were positioned. He didn’t miss the brooding look of the Gren while the man watched the King’s guards position Dree just outside the castle. Marc knew his friend wasn’t pleased that once again they were risking their necks to rescue this woman. But damn it to all the hells, she just didn’t seem able to keep herself out of trouble.

  “The guards are not going to leave her,” Trent Dar, the Gren, spoke through his porta-comm.

  Marc heard him through the porta-comm wrapped around his head. “Then we take them down,” he answered, turning a glare on the curious man who had approached and now stood next to him.

  His harsh look was enough to make the man back away. Marc took in the growing amount of onlookers. “Let’s do our best not to hurt any of the townsfolk.”

  Trent didn’t respond, but Marc saw him nod. Looking around the grassy area, he squinted against the suns while doing a mental count of how many people already closed in on the area.

  Dree was captivating, spread-eagled, with her naked body on display for all to see. Her expression was placid, but he could tell by her heavy breathing how terrified she was. He had to give her credit for showing an incredible amount of bravery. More than likely her previous experiences as a sex slave enabled her to endure this moment better than another woman might.

  The guards moved away from Dree just enough to make them easy targets. “Now,” he ordered, pulling his laser from the holster on his hip.

  Trent Dar fired at the same time that he did and the two guards slumped to the ground without ceremony. Dree’s entire body jerked against the leather that bound her to the poles. She looked wide-eyed from one guard to the next, her shock turning to fear as her mouth opened, ready to scream.

  They had to move quickly. If Dree started screaming, more guards would be alerted. This wasn’t how Marc planned on taking down the King.

  Switching his porta-comm so that he spoke to all of his men, Marc barked out the order. “Secure the area.”

  Marc didn’t wait to watch his men carry out the order. He moved through the crowd, chaos already mounting. A woman somewhere in the crowd started screaming, her bloodcurdling cries chilling him. Several men surrounded Dree, their hands all over her. Marc pulled one of them backwards, throwing him to the side.

  “Wait your turn,” another yelled at him. The man already had undone his pants.

  “There will be no turns.” Marc punched the man, his knuckles hitting the soft bones in the man’s nose.

  The man stumbled backwards, one hand gripping his cock while the other covered his face, blood quickly streaming over his chin.

  The other man had his mouth latched to Dree’s tit. Marc’s blood boiled, fury feeding him as he gripped the man’s hair.

  Dree cried out when Marc broke suction. The man hadn’t bruised her, and although he was sure her nipple got a bit tweaked, it was nothing compared to the abuse she would experience if left strung up in the public square much longer. Dree would be fucked in every hole these men could get to, repeatedly, beyond what her body could take.

  His hands shook when he reached for Dree. She trembled against his touch, her skin so hot through his gloves he felt it clear to his groin. “Hold still,” he ordered.

  Her eyes opened wide at the sound of his voice. Those gray eyes looked wild, almost fierce. White strands of her hair draped over the delicate curves of her shoulders, ending at the full roundness of her breasts. Sweat gleamed across her skin, while her heavy breathing thrust her perky round breasts forward, her nipples jutting toward him as hardened peaks.

  “Marc.” She breathed his name, her soft voice sending fire through him, hardening his cock instantly. “What took you so long?”

  He wanted to laugh. His little ex-slave had anticipated him saving her. She had thought about him, had known he would be her rescuer. The blood seemed to drain through his body, sinking deep into the shaft of his cock. The pressure was almost unbearable, making it hard for him to concentrate.

  “Hold still,” he told her again, knowing he needed to stay focused and move quickly or their small window of opportunity would be closed by the King’s men surrounding them. “I need to cut you loose.”

  Squatting down was almost unbearable with his cock pressing painfully against the tightness of his pants. He ran his hand down her leg, glancing for the briefest of moments at her pussy. So sweet, so delectable. It called to him, begging him to place his lips against her smooth skin, kiss all pain away. He swore she thrust her hips forward, inching her pussy closer to his face.

  Growling in frustration, he focused on her ankles and the black leather straps that fastened her to the metal poles. Pulling his knife from its holder at his waist, he swiped through the leather, her entire body slumping when her legs closed together.

  “Hurry. Please.” She struggled against her confinement, but Marc needed no encouragement.

  In the next minute he had her free and in his arms. There was no need to order his men out of there. They would see him run, and he was sure none of them had any desire to hang out next to the castle any longer than necessary.

  Marc hurried through the growing crowd, no one trying to stop him. The Gren was at his heels, and Marc wasn’t pompous enough to think that the people parted solely because of him. Most feared the Gren, not trusting what they did not know. The race kept to themselves, riddled with tradition and strange ceremonies. The Gren’s dark forbidding look added to his sense of mystique. Trent Dar was a loyal friend, but his race provoked fear due to their deadly history. The Gren populated only a small part of their planet, yet had conquered all other races on it, showing the rest of the solar system they wouldn’t be messed with. That often made Trent a good man to hang out with.

  Dree seemed to curl into his body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against him, her hot breath setting the fire smoldering inside him to blazes. He could feel the swell of her breasts through his shirt, the softness of her skin, so pale and without tattoos, burned him wherever they touched.

  Reaching the street at the end of the castle grounds he put Dree down and opened the carrier door. She climbed in without instruction.

  “There is an incoming message from the King.” Trent Dar had slid his porta-comm off of his belt and now pushed several buttons on it. “It’s recorded, no response required.”

  “Allows him the final say.” Marc took the porta-comm and slid into the passenger seat of the carrier.

  Dree scooted up between the two front seats, sitting on the floor between him and Trent. He ran his hand over her hair, the act seeming so natural he had done it before giving it thought.

  “What does the King say?” Her voice was soft, soothing. It surprised him how calm she sounded and glanced down at those gray eyes that seemed so much wiser than a slave’s eyes should look.

  He turned his attention to the porta-comm, pushing the button to start the message. King Sorale appeared on the small screen. The ass lounged in his throne, appearing bored and unconcerned with any of his actions—like usual.

  “Marc of Torin. Take the slut you appear to be so fond of. Consider her my parting gift to you. Be it known though, if you set foot on any part of my kingdom again, you will die.” With that the screen went blank.

  Marc tossed the porta-comm onto the console, the King’s words an empty threat. “Apparently we won’t have an audience with the King today.”

  The Gren grunted. Marc knew he wanted to tell him he told him so. The Gren thought less of the King than Marc did.

  “You came here to see the King?” Dree looked from him to the Gren.

  Marc w
anted to pull her into his lap, feel the softness of her ass pressed against him. Those large breasts, so full and perky, swelled while he focused on them, once again sending the blood in his body straight to his cock.

  “King Sorale will not be happy until all of Benox acknowledges his rule.” Trent Dar glanced down at her and then over at him before returning his attention to the road in front of him.

  “Will he succeed?” Dree sounded worried.

  “No.” That was one thing Marc was more confident of than anything. “The King will die for his efforts.”

  Dree appeared content with his answer, her body relaxing as she looked down at her hands. The silky white hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Marc swallowed, trying to keep himself focused. The thought of her hair falling around her while she lay on top of him was a distraction not easily cast aside.

  Trent put the carrier into gear and started down the street, not taking to flight but simply hovering over the road. Without saying anything, he pulled it off the road and parked it.

  “Get out,” he said, without ceremony.

  Marc looked at him questioningly.

  “Out now. Something is wrong.”

  The Gren’s expression left no room for argument. Marc opened his door, reaching for Dree. But Trent Dar was faster. He grabbed the woman, pulling her out backwards on his side. Marc jumped out of the carrier, moving around the front toward the two of them. A clicking sound was all the notice he got.

  The carrier exploded. Heat and the pressure of the metal blowing apart knocked him off balance. Marc stumbled forward, and then hurried almost on hands and knees out of the way of the falling, burning metal that seconds ago was his carrier.

  Smoke filled the air, burning his eyes. He strained to see through it, hugging the ground while he searched for the Gren and Dree. There was screaming and yelling all around them. The ground vibrated underneath him from people running up and down the street. Some distance away he could hear the alert sirens of the town patrol approaching. The last thing he wanted was to be detained in this city because the King had failed to kill him, or a fine for the mess his exploding carrier had caused.

  He scurried across the ground in the direction he assumed Trent Dar and Dree were.

  “Are you okay?” The Gren stood, wiping dirt off his clothes with the naked Dree standing next to him.

  “Thanks to you, it appears we are all okay.” He let his gaze stroll down Dree, her body covered with dirt but no bruises or scrapes.

  The Gren nodded. “I suggest we get out of here.”

  “My sentiments exactly.” Marc grabbed Dree’s hand, pulling her along as they took to the street, fading into the confused crowd as the alert sirens sounded louder.

  In the next minute, he lifted her, tossing her over his shoulder. Her adorable ass was an incredible distraction pressed next to his face and bobbing over his shoulder. He placed his hand directly over her ass and pussy, allowing her that much modesty as he hurried through the town.

  “I can walk. I’m okay.” Dree protested only a bit while she adjusted herself, her head hanging upside down along his back.

  “We can move faster this way. Be quiet for now,” he instructed her, moving his hand slightly over her most private, intimate area.

  Her small hands gripped his waist while he held her securely like a cherished bag of goods he had tossed over his shoulder. The people in this kingdom were so accustomed to sex slaves that no one batted an eye at the naked woman on display as the two of them moved quickly through the town.

  Trent spoke into his porta-comm. “Arrange to pick us up on the other side of the marketplace.”

  They passed by a small arena where young women and men were on display for purchase. The smell of body sweat and rank pussy turned Marc’s stomach.

  “What’s that bitch got that I don’t?” One of the girls inside the arena matched their pace, following them on the other side of the fence. “She looks too used up for her to be any good. Men like you two need some fire.”

  Marc thought of telling the slut that Dree had more class than the woman would ever know. But then he wondered what made him want to defend Dree. The same thing that had him risking their necks saving her ass. Something about this little ex-sex slave. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it called to him. More than just to his cock. Every protector instinct he had kicked into overdrive when he was around her.

  The sound of a whip cracking made Dree jump.

  “Get your ass over there and talk to the payin’ customers,” a man’s gravelly voice said.

  The woman fell to the ground, a bright red line of blood instantly appearing across her back and ass. When the slave keeper raised his arm to strike the whip against her flesh again, the woman moved to her hands and knees, spitting dirt from her mouth.

  She might have cursed, or begged him to stop. But they kept walking, Marc’s insides hardening while he held Dree closer to him. Nothing infuriated him more than people’s inability to properly care for others. He would kill anyone who treated Dree that way. The King being the first name on his list.

  “This way.” Trent Dar nodded with his head and they turned the corner, taking a narrower road away from the merchants’ part of town.

  “Where are my men?” Marc regretted not grabbing his porta-comm before running from the carrier. “We’re an easy target and I don’t like it.”

  Again Dree squirmed in his arms. “I can move quickly.” She struggled to turn on his shoulder. “You don’t have to carry me.”

  He ran his hand over her ass, wanting desperately to slide his fingers into the soft folds of her pussy.

  “Hold still,” he told her. “We can move faster with you right where you are.”

  Not to mention he liked her over his shoulder like this. Her soft belly pressed into his shoulder, her thin legs held together against his arm, and her full round ass, so tempting, was too much not to caress while they hurried down the less-used street.

  Alert sirens sounded behind them, not too close, but close enough to grab Marc’s attention. “Anyone in this town would turn us in to get a favor from the King.”

  “Agreed.” The Gren pushed a few buttons on his porta-comm. “We’ve got pickup coming toward us now. They swept around the town so as not to be noticed.”

  If the King had any sense about him, he would have the entire area on alert looking for them. Leaving the carrier was probably crime enough to trap Marc. He knew how the King worked. He was a cheater and a liar, and would create a crime to snag Marc if he could.

  The alert siren sounded closer, and then a second one followed. They were coming from two different directions. This was going to be close.

  One of his guards broke through on the porta-comm. “We’ve got the King’s patrol on our ass. Want us to shoot them down?”

  Hell yes, he wanted them destroyed. But starting a war with the King had to be planned out carefully. He knew His Majesty had a lot of power behind him and wouldn’t fall from the throne easily.

  “Hold fire,” he said quietly, and the Gren issued the order. His friend then gave him a brooding stare. His dark eyes searched Marc’s face. “We won’t get out of town without more bloodshed,” he said after a minute.

  “As long as it’s not our blood.” Marc turned, adjusting Dree in his arms while he looked behind them.

  The buildings had thinned alongside the narrow road. Small homes, where most of the merchants lived, lined the street. And although most of the merchants were tending their shops, the area seemed too quiet for his taste. Except for the sharp wail of the sirens, there was little else going on around them.

  Trouble brewed in the air. He could feel it, and the Gren probably sensed it too. While he watched, the King’s patrol turned the corner, the siren burning through his ears as it drew closer.

  This time Dree almost flipped off of his shoulder. She struggled to be free, and he gripped her, while her body half slid down his front.

  “You’d move a lot faster
if you weren’t carrying me.” She slid down him far enough that her face was inches from his. Her gray eyes were wide with fear. The way her lips puckered when she finished speaking, an almost pouty look filled with determination, made him want to kiss her until she relaxed against him.

  And she was anything but relaxed. She pressed her small hands against his shoulders, pushing away from him.

  “Do you think you would stand a better chance of avoiding them if you ran from me?” He held her so firmly against him, the pounding of her heart became one with his own heartbeat.

  “I think too much is at risk to slow us down by holding me like this.” She glared at him, but only for a moment.

  The wail of the second patrol, its sirens sounding from behind the merchants’ homes, told Marc they were quickly being surrounded.

  “They are going to catch us.” Dree squirmed in his arms, her full breasts brushing against his shirt while her legs kicked his in her effort to be free.

  “This way.” Trent Dar pointed toward the other side of the street and then took off running.

  Marc didn’t have time to throw Dree over his shoulder again, and he would be damned if he would leave her. She would be captured and killed, and he knew her death wouldn’t be pretty.

  “I’m not leaving you,” he hissed into her face, and pulled her up to cradle her in his arms before taking off in a full sprint after the Gren.

  Shots fired at them from the patrol carrier coming down the street after them. Marc dodged alongside one of the homes.

  “I don’t want to die.” Dree cried into his ear, clinging to him with more strength than he would have guessed that she had.

  With her small body wrapped around him, Marc took in his surroundings. “Get our carrier here,” he growled at the Gren, who seemingly ignored his threatening order and instead looked around them as well.

  The sirens were so loud they grated on Marc’s nerves.

  Standing in between two homes, shaded and partially out of view by the low hanging roofs, the two men watched the King’s patrol move slowly down the street. King Sorale’s guards would follow their orders, but Marc knew from experience their training was based on manipulation and fear. In battle they wouldn’t stand a chance. His only concern at the moment was shielding Dree if laser fire broke out.