SLAVE OF THE BROTHEL
Teagan Rand
Tuppshar Press
Smashwords Edition
Also by Teagan Rand:
A Slave Girl for the Emperor (Xhagia, Book 1)
In the Slave Harem (Xhagia, Book 2)
Final Surrender (Xhagia, Book 4)
At His Knee
Lesson in Bondage
The Slave in the Garden
Taken for Bondage (The Slave Raider’s Lament, Book 1)
Dark Confession (The Slave Raider’s Lament, Book 2)
SLAVE OF THE BROTHEL
PRINTING HISTORY
First Edition, 2010
ISBN-13: 978-1-936783-02-1
Copyright © 2010 by Teagan Rand
All Rights Reserved
Cover artwork Copyright © 2011 by Tuppshar Press
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be copied or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons (living or dead), locations, or events, is entirely coincidental.
www.tuppshar-press.com
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SLAVE OF THE BROTHEL
One
Stranded
Like most scholars, she had wanted to be sure. This would cost her.
For Dr. Kehenna Gek, professor of archaeology and ancient history at the Imperial University of Xhagia, despite her long experience at departmental politics and academic backstabbing, now found that she was sorely lacking in her judgment of both traditional politics and the military mind, and this had now stranded her, her excavation team, and her small research starship on the frontier world of Hynan. In her defense, however, it may be said that she, like every other citizen of the empire, had never had to deal with a situation like this one, and so her woeful lack of preparation may perhaps be forgiven.
Because she had wanted to be sure, and it was easy to neglect politics when you were digging through Valk ruins on a planet two hundred light years from home. And so, when she had finally wrapped up the season’s excavations and ordered the captain of the Tellarisan to take them back to the empire, it came as quite an unpleasant surprise to learn that the empire was fast becoming history itself. She should have left XRY-1430 a month ago, she told herself now, as soon as she had realized the importance of the new Valk text.
But she had wanted to be sure. Translating Valk was, even for one of the limited circle of experts like herself, an uncertain thing—hardly a surprise when you were dealing with a race that had vanished nearly 35 million years ago. And this text, carrying the less than glamorous excavation number of DS143307, had proved more difficult than most, even with her full library on the Tellarisan’s main computer to refer to.
A Valk history from just after the Great Wasting. This would make her career, if she could just get back to Xhagia and publish it.
Yet things had happened while she and her team had been digging, and they had happened suddenly, back on the capital, things that Kehenna Gek never could have anticipated. The emperor, the Xhagia Taj Rad, assassinated. His son, now the Xhagia Fadal Taj, trying to restore order as several major noble houses refused to acknowledge him, and with them their parts of the fleet and army were now increasingly in open revolt. There were questions about Fadal Taj’s involvement in the death of his father, and anger over the new emperor’s sudden conservative agenda and his unexpected embrace of Dharkalism, until recently a minor sect that he had now proclaimed the state religion of the empire. Rumors of massacres and purges in the palace itself.
And with this, a breakdown in order elsewhere. Star lanes that had only a few months ago been safe for travel now shut down because of raids, because of piracy. And Xhagia, once only a month’s travel from this outpost, now lay a full seventy impossible light years away.
She was arguing with the outpost commander in his office.
“Colonel Daavvik, I don’t think you understand how important this is. I need to reach Xhagia immediately.”
The commander shook his head. He was a large man, his hair cut short to the point of baldness, and his face seemed locked in a perpetual scowl.
“And, Dr. Gek, I told you that there is simply no way you or your ship can get through. The passage between Lavaka and Eldras is impassable. The last word we had was that the battlecruisers Devanstat and Indaliv were going to try and reopen it, but until they arrive and provide you and the other merchants here with an escort, it is simply too dangerous.”
“And this is why you’ve grounded my ship? I don’t think you understand the importance of what we found on XRY-1430. I explained this to you yesterday. I showed you the text. We have made a discovery that—”
“I don’t care, Dr. Gek,” the colonel snarled. “This whole sector is shut down. Three vassal worlds within ten light years of here have declared their independence and are hunting for any Xhagian civilian ship they can find. Whatever little conference or classes that you’re missing will just have to go on without you. I have a real emergency here and whether you choose to believe it or not, I’m trying to keep you alive.”
She sighed. “All right. Then let me send my paper on via a hyperspace link.”
At this the man actually laughed in her face, the first sign of humor she had ever seen from him. “Our only way to communicate with the homeworld, and you want to use it for your little publication? I hate to break this to you, Doctor, but the empire is slipping into civil war. Millions may die—they may have already died. It may come as a huge surprise to your ivory tower, but your little discovery and your little paper simply aren’t that important.”
She drew close to his face despite his size. “This may be the most important discovery in Xhagia’s history,” she snapped. “And you may be the man remembered for letting the empire fall without it.”
She sensed as his patience, what little of it there actually was, came to an end, and she realized she had pushed too hard. “Get out of my office, Doctor,” he answered, his voice dropping low. “I have better things to do than discuss your little theories. I’ll put your ship in the next safe caravan once either the Devanstat or Indaliv arrives, if they do. But if you keep bothering me you won’t get even that.”
Edelev met her outside, standing under Hynan’s dim red sun and trying to look like he didn’t mind the fine brown dust that seemed to get into everything. He had proven allergic and though he tried to hide the fact, she knew he was miserable.
“Anything?” he asked.
“Yes. The colonel is a bug-fucking prick.”
Edelev nodded. “Anything else?”
She looked at him, at his red, swollen nose and bloodshot eyes. “A drink,” she said. “We might as well use the damn grant money for something useful.”
He went silent. Her anger was self-directed, he knew, and he also knew better than to bring this up. Like her, Dr. Edelev Vass was a veteran of far too many academic battles, and these had taught him a certain diplomacy that she sometimes lacked. The two of them made their way from the base headquarters and into the small settlement that was clustered around it, the wide landing field visible to the north, clustered with ships stranded like their own. The bar was crowded and noisy as Kehenna put in their order and they found a small table near the back of the room. Edelev brushed the dust from his seat with obvious distaste.
“I’m sorry about the air,” she told him. “I’ll talk to Captain Wesh about letting you run the filters tonight.”
“It’s all right,” he told her. “Just a runny nose.”
Kehenna nodded. “Can the ship’s doctor give you anything?”
“Already did. Made me dizzy.”
A penetrata appeared with their drinks. She was naked save for a metal collar, and a chain dangled from this with the transaction key. Edelev watched her as she set the bottles of beer before them, and Kehenna swiped her credcard through the key.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome, Mistress.”
The girl moved away. She was robust and well-curved, her hips swaying invitingly, her body and hair unwashed and bearing more than a hint of sweat and the ubiquitous dust, her bare feet callused from many days on this floor. There weren’t many penetrata on Hynan, maybe a few dozen in bars like this one and at the port’s sole brothel, and Kehenna imagined that they were being worked hard by all the stranded starship crews. Edelev, at least, had not indulged his lust with any of them, though she suspected he was feeling it. Xhagian men had strong needs and he had been at the excavation for six months.
Thank the gods I’m a woman, she thought, though her own hunger for pregnancy had at times been overpowering, and she thought of her two sons and daughter now.
Are you all right, there on Xhagia? she wondered. Please be safe.
Edelev was still watching the penetrata as she moved from table to table. One man grabbed her ass, and she stood silently as he fondled her, releasing her finally with an affectionate swat. Kehenna spoke.
“Do you think she’ll ever know?”
Edelev turned back. “Will any of them? Maybe it’s better to be safe getting back to Xhagia, Kehenna, even if it takes a long time. If we’re lost and this tablet is lost with us….”
“I’ve made copies,” she said. “Back at the expedition house, and on the Tellarisan. I’ll leave another here, if we ever get off. One way or another, the galaxy will eventually find out why the Valk did what they did, why we’re here, and why the penetrata are what they are.”
Her colleague nodded, taking a drink. He savored the taste for a moment and then set the bottle down, letting his gaze wander back to the naked slave girl who served so quietly, and to the crowd of Xhagian men and women who sat and drank and waited.
“True. I do wonder, though,” he mused. “Will it be too late then?”
Two
New Girl
On the day that Fahren Bok brought him the slave girl, Lehnam Eleha was trying to figure a way to make a hundred bottles of Celesian beer stretch over the next two weeks, since his last order for two hundred more had simply never arrived. The starports are opening and closing down without warning, his supplier had told him via holopad, and a lot of merchants just aren’t shipping. It’s the disorder in the capital and in the star lanes, uncertain times. Be glad you’re out in the country and away from the excitement.
Lehnam knew what the woman really meant: you aren’t a high priority and I have to take care of my bigger customers. So now he was wondering if he ought to water down the beer he had, something he had never done before, or just let it run out and take the consequences.
It’s not like they come in for the drinks anyway, right?
So Lehnam looked up as the farmer knocked at his door, and gave him a smile and a nod.
“Fahren. Haven’t seen you lately. How are things?”
The little man took a step through the door. He was squat and muscular, with strong hands that came from a lifetime spent in his orchards, and he wasn’t the sort to talk much. Today he took his cap into his hands and looked down nervously.
“All right. I need your help.”
“Oh? What is it?” Lehnam always tried to do what he could for the other residents of the small town, this being both neighborly and good business. Word got around in a place like this, and a man’s word and reputation mattered.
“I…found something,” Fahren said, and he moved back into the hall and returned in a moment with the girl. She was naked save for the length of rope the farmer had tied around her neck to serve as a collar and leash, and her long, dark hair was a mess, hiding her face. She stood silently, keeping her gaze down.
“What’s this?” Lehnam asked.
“I found her,” Fahren explained. “She was in my orchard…eating fruit…yesterday. I didn’t know what to do, and you’re the only one I know who might.” His slow words matched the nervous motion of his fingers, teasing over the end of the rope.
Lehnam stood and walked from behind his desk. The girl was a small one, and despite the dirt and grime that covered her, well formed. He brought a finger against her flank and felt her shiver.
“I thought maybe I should just leave her,” the farmer said. “It wasn’t that much fruit, and I guess she was hungry. But…I thought it would be better to bring her here. You’d know what to do.”
Lehman ran his finger over one of her small, perfect breasts, dallying for a few seconds at the nipple. She stayed silent.
“You’re sure?” he asked. “You found her, right? Didn’t pick her up from somewhere you shouldn’t have?”
Fahren shook his head. “No, sir. It’s the truth. I don’t steal. She was just there, yesterday afternoon. And it’s not right, a penetrata just running around. So I brought her here.”
Fahren Bok wasn’t the sort to make up stories; he wasn’t an imaginative man, and he was an honest one. Lehnam nodded and stepped back, sizing the girl up. It was damned odd, he had to admit. Outside of fantasies, naked penetrata didn’t just drop out of the sky and into the orchards of Xhagian farmers. “Did you ask her why she was there?” he asked.
“She doesn’t talk much,” Fahren said.
Lehnam reached out and drew up the girl’s chin. Her gaze came up with it, dark eyes just watching him, her expression blank. Probably hunger, he told himself, and he let her face fall again.
“I figured you’d know what to do,” Fahren repeated.
Lehnam considered this. He did know what to do, and Fahren’s instinct to bring the girl here had been the right one. Lehnam was the only slave owner closer than the city of Khaphra, which would have taken the farmer a full day to reach, as well as fuel and time he probably couldn’t afford. Lehnam ran the local brothel, though to call him a slaver was stretching things a bit; he was registered with the guild so he could legally buy and sell girls, but not really active in it, having no real need to be. Running a small brothel in a small town hardly required that.
And Senakya was really just that: small. It lay nestled in a range of short hills that surrounded three nearby lakes where a small species of local fish spawned regularly, these constituting a minor delicacy on Xhagia. Since preparation of these before they were canned was still done by hand, the lakes and the cannery that had been built here a century ago provided employment for several hundred of the town’s few thousand residents and formed the backbone of the local economy. Others, like Lehnam, provided goods and services in support of the fishing and canning, including the small airport where once a day a transport would take the day’s production into Khaphra. Otherwise, the town could only be reached by hovercraft or car along the paved road that ran from the north to the east, winding its way through the forest and past the orchards of men like Fahren.
The town was old, and the stability of its one industry helped to keep it conservative, which was one of the reasons that Lehnam had come here ten years ago to buy the old hotel on the town square and bring in a half-dozen penetrata to serve there. The road was too long and the cost of flying too expensive to justify more than the occasional visit by a mobile brothel, which had left an opening for an entrepreneur to take advantage. The hotel was in poor shape when he arrived, the metal superstructure showing signs of rust and the broad plastine windows having begun to fog with age, but Lehnam had turned this to his advantage; few noticed the rust and having a naked girl press her body against the fogged glass merely made her more enticing.
So customers had followed, the men relieved that they could sate their lusts more conveniently, the women that their men would finally stop pestering them with incessant demands for sex when they weren’t in the mood for pregnancy, the ages-old Xhagian problem. Lehnam kept his prices reasonable, knowing that this wasn’t a rich town, not the capital or a major city with a glittering sex district, and that his investment would pay off over the long run if he could integrate himself into the community. And so he offered more than just the use of his slave girls, but participated in the full life of Senakya, using the brothel to host parties and celebrations for festivals and birthdays, and putting the former hotel’s sound system to use to provide music for dances held in the town square. Senakya and its surrounding farms were overwhelmingly Vakkilite, with a small temple opposite the brothel on the town square, and so Lehnam had converted and now attended services regularly. Even some of his girls sometimes accompanied him there (though how and to whom they prayed was a mystery to him and everybody else, since they weren’t Xhagian, after all), and on festival days he always had all of them present at the town’s banquets, dressed properly in long gowns and serving large, steaming casseroles and cakes to the townsfolk and handing out candy to the children, as it was said the prophet Vakkil herself had done, three thousand years ago.
The result was that less than a year after he had opened up shop, the priestess herself came by to bless the brothel and all the slaves who worked there. And now nobody paid the slightest heed when three or four girls, naked save for kalithdas or laqhinas or the tiniest of panties, made their way down main street to the cannery at the end of each day’s shift to bring back as many men as they could. As the years passed, Lehnam added several new girls to his stable from the auction house in Khaphra, and although he was hardly the richest or most famous slaver on Xhagia, his business was reasonably profitable and he was comfortable in a community where he felt he belonged.
“What do you think?” asked Fahren now.
“Probably escaped from somewhere,” Lehnam answered. “You did the right thing, Fahren.”
The man’s gaze dropped, and he fidgeted a bit. “I thought that maybe…there might be something….”
Lehnam smiled. “Of course. Just a moment.” There was, in fact, a protocol for this sort of thing, though normally you had to wait for the girl’s owner to be identified for a reward to be paid. But these days, with all the chaos in the cities, that might take some time, and Lehnam didn’t want to disappoint the farmer; even if he guessed the wrong sum, the goodwill he could generate here would be worth it. And so Lehnam went to the small safe behind his desk and pulled out his credcard. Fahren smiled and produced his transaction key, and in a few seconds the transfer of funds was complete. As he left the farmer glanced back at the girl.
“Will she be here…later?” he asked.
Lehnam gave him an affectionate nod. “I expect so,” he said. “Times being what they are, you know.”
“Thank you, Lehnam Eleha.”
After Fahren left, Lehnam examined the slave more closely, pulling off the rope collar and then taking her by the neck and bending her forward. Her ass rose naturally, the perfect lips of her labia peeking out, and he nodded to himself; she had been trained somewhere. There was also dried cum on her inner thighs, an indication that Fahren had enjoyed her at least a few times before bringing her here. This was hardly a surprise, and no one would complain, since she had been on his property and stolen from his orchard. The farmer had probably thought about simply keeping the girl for himself, though that would eventually get expensive and the man had enough to do without trying to take care of a slave.
She moved without protest as Lehnam continued his examination, quivering slightly when he pinched at her nipples or tested the muscles of her abdomen, thighs, and buttocks. Finally concluding that she was in good health, though a little thin from not eating, he faced her again and once again put his finger under her chin to raise her gaze to his.
“What’s your name, penetrata?” he asked.
She hesitated, and then answered, her voice soft as though she hadn’t spoken for some time.
“Chrissy,” she told him.
He knew that this was a lie, but also knew better than to press the issue. A genetic scan later would establish her identity for certain, and the name would do for now. “All right, Chrissy,” he said. “I am Lehnam Eleha. For now, you are to call me ‘master’ and obey me. How did you come to be in Fahren’s orchard?”
“I was hungry.”
“Where were you before that? Who is your owner?”
She went silent, just staring at him; not the face of a girl withholding the truth, but one who either didn’t know or couldn’t answer. Finally Lehnam nodded.
“All right—we can deal with that later. For now, we need to get you cleaned up and fed. Come with me.”
He led her into the back, to the large shower where his girls bathed before and after each evening’s work, and he called for Veronica, directing her to wash the girl off. His penetrata said nothing, only obeyed, lathering Chrissy up with soap and scrubbing her with a soft sponge while Lehnam watched. When Veronica was through and Chrissy stood before him to be dried with a thick towel, he told his slave to prepare a bowl of slave gruel and sent her on her way, taking a few minutes to examine the strange girl more closely now that she was clean.
As was the case with most penetrata, Chrissy’s body was hairless, but as he turned her this way and that, Lehnam marveled at what he saw. She had been denuded by an expert, the small tuft of hair at her pubis a work of intimate art, accenting the soft lips of her sex perfectly. And she was a real beauty, too, slender and small, delightfully curved, her face, even blank now, a delicate vision. Her movements under his hand came instantly and clearly without thought, responding to his direction, each pose a sensual invitation. This was no ordinary penetrata, Lehnam realized; she was an exquisite beauty who had been exquisitely trained. Yet there was no life behind the instincts, no person there, and when Veronica brought the bowl of gruel Lehnam took it and had the strange girl kneel, carefully setting it before her.
“Lick it, penetrata,” he commanded.
She did, eating ravenously and most indelicately, drops of the gruel on her cheeks. When she finished he regarded her.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Yesterday.”
The fruit. “And before that? Remember that you are a penetrata, and I am a master. Tell me.”
The blank expression again. Her lips parted, as though she meant to speak, and then she shuddered, a low whimper escaping her. For the first time since Fahren had brought her to him Lehnam saw fear in her eyes, a terror that went deep. He reached out a hand and touched her bare shoulder.
“All right. You don’t have to answer. Would you like some more gruel?”
She nodded, and he sent Veronica back to the kitchen.
It didn’t matter that she was silent, he told himself again as he watched her. A simple skin scraping would get her DNA to the guild in Khaphra and they’d match it to the empire-wide database and contact her owner. This was an advantage in that all slaves were captives, and it was normal to produce files on each of them when they were still in transit from their homeworld. He had the pedigrees and certificates for all of his own girls in his safe, and although there were stories about black market slaves and forgeries and such, Lehnam had always stayed away from that sort of thing. There was no need to deal in illicit penetrata when perfectly legal ones could be had at reasonable prices.
Chrissy was watching him now. Lehnam smiled at her, hoping to make her feel comfortable.
The protocol, the procedure laid down by the slavers’ guild for escaped slaves, was clear: he was to report her to the guild and send the sample, then wait until either an agent of the guild or her owner arrived to retrieve her. Until that time he could use her as he pleased, so long as he didn’t damage her, so at the least he could put her in with his own girls and make some money to recoup what he had paid to Fahren in case there was no reward; in fact, as beautiful as she was, he could probably charge a little extra and no one would complain.
Veronica brought the second bowl of gruel, and Lehnam held this below Chrissy’s mouth and told her to eat again. He noticed that her wrists moved to cross behind her back as she did, her tongue licking up the gruel more slowly this time, and the thought came to him once more: she was trained, well trained.
Later, he took her into his room above the brothel and told her to kneel by the bed. She obeyed wordlessly, the motion fluid and graceful, and she watched him with interest. Pulling off his shirt, Lehnam regarded her back. “Tell me, Chrissy,” he said, “what are you?”
She hesitated for a few seconds, then answered softly. “I am a slave girl, Master.”
“And what does a slave girl do?”
“She pleases her master.”
“And how does she do that?”
“With her body and her words, Master.”
He nodded. These were basic responses, taught to all penetrata. It was a good sign that they came so naturally to her lips, so easily to her. He unbuckled his belt and pulled off his trousers, then drew his shorts down his legs. He watched her reaction as his cock emerged, and smiled as he noted her attention focus there.
“Do you like cock, Chrissy?” he asked.
“Yes, Master.”
“Why?”
“Xhagian men use their cocks to fuck me.”
“And you like being fucked by Xhagian cocks?”
She nodded, a pretty blush spreading from her cheeks and over her small, pert breasts, though her voice was still flat, toneless. “Yes, Master,” she said. “I love having Xhagian cocks fuck me.”
He took a step toward her. “Have you ever served in a slave brothel, Chrissy?” he asked.
Her face, innocent, looked up at him. Her lips moved but no sound emerged, as though she was fighting to find something to say. Finally he reached out and stroked her long hair affectionately. It had been worth another try to get past her uncertainty, to find out if it was all just an act. Her answers to his first questions had been automatic and yet sincere, just as most penetrata’s were, and he had used them on his own girls after buying them, in part to make sure they knew what was expected of them here. This girl knew what she was and why she was here, he saw; it was where she had been before that was a blank. But her amnesia was not total. Her slave instincts remained, a testimony to how skilled her trainer had been. To relax her Lehnam asked another easy question.
“Do you like sucking Xhagian cock, Chrissy?”
Her gaze returned to his groin. “Yes, Master.”
He moved to her and let his cockhead play over her lips and cheeks. She whimpered, and he gently guided the wide crown into her mouth, feeling her lips and tongue press moist around it. “Do so,” he commanded, lacing his fingers into her hair to ensure that she would not draw back.
As he had now learned to anticipate, she was skilled, and it was easy for Lehnam to surrender to her, allowing her to fellate him hungrily, savoring the feel of her tongue against his shaft and below, to his scrotum, hearing her sweet moans as she licked him there. Her lips were like velvet around him, kissing intimately and attentively, the little sounds of it adding to the erotic fever that soon he felt growing within him. He heard his own words as though they were far away, her hair soft against his fingertips, her hands caressing up his thighs and moving with increasing energy over his tense buttocks.
“Ah…. Good girl…. Good little penetrata….”
It was moments later, when she took complete control, that Lehnam Eleha realized he was in the presence of a fellatrix of the highest order, and as his knees went weak and he slumped to the bed, he forgot for those moments why he had brought her here, why he had felt the need to test her, and what he was supposed to do with her. There was only the pleasure of her lips and tongue and mouth against his cock, the throbbing need to release that she coaxed so close to satisfaction and then held off again.
When her unspoken permission finally arrived in the form of the tightness of her mouth sucking hard together with a tense stroke of her small fingers around his shaft, Lehnam roared loudly in relief and joy as he exploded past her lips, helpless as she drew back to take his baqqan over her face, the thick, rich semen never seeming to end. Her whimpers, loud now, reached his ears, and he knew that she was coming too, that her words to him had been no lie, no fabrication just to please him. Whoever she was, this girl knew cock and enjoyed it, knew Xhagians, and knew what they could make her feel and what she could bring to them.
Clarity returned slowly as he caught his breath on the bed, supporting himself on his elbows and looking down at her. His baqqan, glistening as it flowed wet and thick over her pretty features, was lovely, erotic, and intimate, her aroused smile beneath it the first such expression he had seen from her. He struggled for words, his blood heated now, and finding none that would adequately complement what she had just made him feel, he settled on a single command that would keep him from having to think about it.
“Runkiss.”
She obeyed, crawling atop the bed and lowering her shoulders, raising her perfect ass high. He took a moment to caress her form, marveling again at the shape and feel of it, her soft skin warm beneath his palms. Her moans told him she was orgasming as he touched her, her body trembling and her small breasts quivering while she held the pose, nipples growing hard beneath his fingers as he pinched them tenderly. Her breath drew in with ragged gasps, tongue licking at the semen that had run down her face to her lips, and as he moved behind her Lehnam saw that the lips of her sex were wet with need, pink and engorged.
His cock, still hard from before, throbbed now, his own need almost painful. He moved behind her and positioned his thighs to either side of hers, letting his hands caress over the curve of her flanks, the rounded flesh of her bottom. Bringing his cock between the natural cleft, he guided it against her soft, intimate lips and then pressed slowly into her, the sensation of her vagina tight and wet around him like spearing warm butter. She let out a cry, her ass shivering beneath his hands, and he moved these slowly around to her thighs to grip her there, even as he began to thrust hard.
“Gods, penetrata,” he groaned, “you are tight.”
Her response was a push back combined with a ripple of her vagina around him, and had he not already been kneeling Lehnam would have fallen. Her own voice devolved into a set of sweet, piteous moans, these firing his blood further as he sensed her undeniable pleasure at what he was doing to her.
Again he marveled. Before, it had been she who took charge, who led him into ecstasy, but now Lehnam found that she followed his lead with equal skill, responding to each of his motions, reacting to his cock so deep inside her, their two bodies locked into a dance that made them a single, flowing entity, a shared bliss as he took his time, holding back himself just as she had made him do, because he found that he wanted to savor each second with her, each moment she writhed beneath him, not wanting the pleasure to ever end.
This did, of course, in time. In time her beauty and skill proved to be more than he could restrain, and Lehnam pushed forward hard, groaning loudly and helplessly as he orgasmed, ejaculating thick and full, growing weak again as her body spasmed, the force of his cock and the effect of his cum taking hold inside her while she cried out sweet pleas for him never to stop, for him never to let her go.
For the moment, he reflected, his hands exploring her while she squirmed and whimpered under his touch, there was little chance of that. Drawing out at last, he turned her slowly to her back, her eyes watching him closely as he prepared to enjoy her again.
Much later, she lay cuddled against his thigh, his spent cock resting limp and satisfied in her mouth, and Lehnam caressed her soft hair gently and relaxed in the pleasure she had given him. Her responses were exquisite, he knew, spasmodic and urgent, and her ecstasy sincere, her desire to please him instinctive and real. And as she snuggled against him now, her tongue caressing intimately, he wondered again how she had gotten into Fahren’s orchard. This was no ordinary runaway, he knew; at auction she would probably bring more than his entire brothel was worth, slaves and all. This was a girl who must have come from the most expensive, exclusive harems and brothels, the kind of pleasure slave who served high nobles and the very wealthiest men of the empire.
So what had happened? As he continued to caress her gently, Lehnam wondered if she had been abused, if her fear came not merely from being a slave (how she had just squirmed beneath him showed that vigorous use, at least, did not frighten her), but from some cruelty her master had inflicted on her. This was not unknown, and was in fact more common among the wealthy than the poor. The men of Senakya, commoners all, could be a little rough sometimes, but Lehnam had never had to eject one from his establishment for hitting a girl or trying to hurt her.
Another thought came to him then: if she had been abused, had merely escaped an abusive owner, could he live with himself if he returned her? Lehnam was not by nature a cruel man, and viewed his own girls with a sort of paternal affection; they were rewarded when they did well, both as slaves and in their place in the community. Maybe it would be good for this girl, he told himself, to spend some time in his brothel, to heal from whatever trauma she had endured.
Part of him was rationalizing, and he knew it. He had a commoner’s dislike and envy of the nobility, and he stood to make money off the strange girl’s service if he kept her here, and it would be nice to enjoy her from time to time himself. But there was another issue, too: with the assassination of the emperor things were dangerous on Xhagia right now, and it was possible that her owner would be in no position to reclaim her anyway. The news out of the capital was all bad, with several noble families in open revolt, the new emperor widely disliked by many and openly despised by some. So Lehnam could justify waiting a little while before reporting her, and keep her safe.
It would be the right thing to do, he decided finally, even as he felt his cock stir to life in her soft, attentive mouth.
The right thing indeed.
Three
Rumors and Memories
Dalgaz Tav turned his glass and stared at the remnants of his drink, wishing there was some way he could wash the taste from his mouth without attracting attention. Whatever the stuff was, it wasn’t what he preferred, but good wine was rare on Xhagia these days, even in the capital, and in a place like this it would only have attracted attention if he had asked for it.
And attention was the last thing he wanted, making even the itch from the holographic disguise he wore worth the trouble. He took another sip and winced at the bitter taste.
Kerdis seemed to like this stuff, anyway, and now the bigger man drained his glass and motioned toward the bar. “You want another?” he asked.
“No thanks.”
Looking unfamiliar beneath his own holodisguise, Kerdis sensed Dalgaz’s discomfort and grinned. Neither of them were nobility, but Dalgaz was beginning to realize that there were class distinctions beyond this on Xhagia. Kerdis was a soldier, and had probably slept in places worse than this one, though to Dalgaz now that was hard to imagine. Dalgaz looked around the dim room and touched at the stem of the bottle he held in the bag beside him, resisting the urge to open it and drink. Fine Lyran champagne would be just the thing right now.
Kerdis returned before he could fantasize further.
“Do you think he’s going to show?” Dalgaz asked.
“He’s known for his love of drink, and apart from water and piss, there isn’t much coming in these days,” Kerdis answered. “He’ll show.”
Dalgaz glanced into his own glass and withheld the obvious comment. As he looked up he heard Kerdis speak again.
“Ah. Here.”
The man was small and unfamiliar, looking as out of place here as Dalgaz felt. A mid-level administrator, probably, his look worried as he glanced around sheepishly. Kerdis indicated the seat opposite them, and the man sat.
“You have it?” he asked, his voice low.
Dalgaz nodded, bringing up the bag. He pulled it open and drew out the bottle just far enough so the seal and top of the liquid inside were visible. The man’s face relaxed and he managed a small smile.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“First, if there is any news from the palace.”
The man shook his head. “I don’t look, and I don’t ask.” His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “The new emperor…he’s not like the Xhagia Taj Rad.”
“No?”
“He has…other ideas about how things should be. I don’t look, and I don’t ask. But last week he took Baron Gelanth and said he was a traitor. I heard….” The voice faded off completely.
“Heard?” asked Kerdis. “Gelanth is a war hero.”
“Was,” the man corrected. “And the baroness…well, all the noble women….”
Kerdis’ voice went cold. “Tell us.”
“He makes them crawl. Says it’s their place. Says it’s a commandment of Dharkal. Told them they had to bare their breasts when they were in the palace, and I heard that he had some of them beaten. A lot of the female employees at the ministries have simply stopped coming in.”
“That’s not Dharkalism,” Dalgaz said. “If they were penetrata, cruelty would be part of the doctrine, but not with Xhagian women. Does he ever talk about penetrata?”
The man shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything, except that the imperial harem is still missing.”
And it will stay that way, Dalgaz thought. I didn’t train those girls for all those years just so this psychopath could skin them.
“There are rumors about punishing the Terran ambassador,” the man added, “but he’s missing too.”
“Are they looking for the harem?” Kerdis asked.
“Well, they want Dalgaz Tav, the harem keeper. And some soldiers who deserted with him. But there are a lot of other problems that they talk about, and I don’t think they have the time to really look for any of those people.” The man looked around nervously. “Is that all you wanted to know?”
“There’s one more thing,” Dalgaz said.
The man eyed the bottle. “What’s that?”
“We want to know what happened in the palace the night the emperor was killed,” Dalgaz answered. “They say you saw something.”
The man’s face paled, this visible even in the low light of the bar, and Dalgaz worried for a few seconds that he might bolt. It had taken him and Teshan three weeks just to find him and set this meeting up, and another week before it could happen. The circumstances of the death of the emperor Taj Rad were obviously a well-kept secret, even in the palace of his son Fadal Taj, which was fast becoming known for its love of secrecy. This meant rumors, of course, but Dalgaz needed more than those. He needed to find her, Christine, the slave girl who the emperor and Minister Qahness had been interrogating that night. And so it was worth pulling in a favor to get one of Teshan’s last bottles of Lyran champagne if it meant any real information.
“Well?” asked Kerdis.
The man licked his lips, glancing at the stem of the bottle again, his eyes hungry for it.
“There isn’t much,” he said.
“Then there isn’t much champagne,” Dalgaz answered. “I might be able to locate another bottle, if I thought I might learn something. Or I could just take this home and drink it myself. Looks like a fine vintage.”
The man twitched nervously. “All right,” he said finally. “They say something killed the emperor.”
“Old age? Bunions? This isn’t very helpful.”
“No….” The man’s head shook. “Something.”
Dalgaz watched him for a moment. “All right,” he said. “Something. What happened that night?”
“I saw the guards…later. After it happened. They brought them through. I don’t like blood…it made me sick to see it.”
“Whose blood?” asked Kerdis.
“The guards’. One had his chest…torn open. He was screaming.”
“And you saw this?” Dalgaz pressed.
The man nodded. “They were all like that. A mess. They had doctors there, working on them, and going back down the hall, into the Ministry of Justice.”
Qahness’ Realm, people called it. You go in, and you come out…a little at a time. That was the joke.
“Go on.”
“Then an officer came and he had us all lie down. They put us in restraints. They kept talking about a search, and there were men with guns everywhere. They kept talking about keeping it under wraps.”
“Standard procedure,” Kerdis noted.
The man shot him a glare. “What then?” asked Dalgaz.
“They took us all to interrogation rooms and talked to us. They made us swear not to tell what we had seen.”
“Did they mention anything about penetrata?”
“No. Why would they?”
Dalgaz passed the man’s question by. “All right,” he said. “You say you saw something, there in the gallery. What was it?”
The man’s shoulders slumped, and he shuddered. “I don’t know. It was just a glimpse. I wish I hadn’t looked. It was dark, like night but more.”
“Black?”
“No…that’s a color. This was dark, like it sucked all the light out of the room, like it sucked out the life. Shimmering almost…dark. And it was tall, too. Long legs. And the claws…I can’t stop seeing those claws….” He caught his breath, still shuddering. Kerdis had gone silent, watching him. Dalgaz spoke firmly, the way he would to a reluctant slave.
“What did it do? What did you see?”
Now the man looked very small, his voice and body trembling. “Please….” he moaned.
“What did you see?”
“It…moved so fast. And it screamed…not like a person. I just ran. But then I saw. It broke the window and was gone.”
Kerdis’ voice betrayed his skepticism. “Broke the window? Of the imperial palace? Those things are made of the same plastine used for the ports on warships. You don’t just break that.”
If the man heard him, he gave no sign. His eyes were no longer on the bag that Dalgaz held, were no longer on anything. He was mumbling now, and Dalgaz reached forward and gripped his collar, pulling his face up.
“Tell me now,” he said, his voice harsh. “And I want all you know, do you understand? Was there any mention, anything at all, about a penetrata? I don’t care what you saw, and I don’t care if you’re afraid. You tell me.”
The man watched him. “No….” he stammered. “Nothing….”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes….”
Dalgaz nodded, sighing inwardly. They wouldn’t get anything more out of the man tonight, and he didn’t want to push him too hard in case they needed him later. He extended the bag and the bottle to him, and after a few seconds’ hesitation he took it. Dalgaz turned to Kerdis. “Can you see that he gets to the transport tube all right? I don’t want him to get rolled.”
Kerdis nodded, guiding the man up by the arm, making sure he had the bag with the bottle held securely to his chest, walking him to the door and out into the night. When the soldier returned a few minutes later he sat again.
“Awfully hard on him, weren’t you, Dalgaz?” he asked. “He’ll probably polish off the whole bottle of that champagne tonight just to keep the nightmares away.”
Dalgaz sighed openly now. “We’ve got an imperial assassination, a thing that can shatter the plastine glass of a warship, and a new emperor who uses enhancement to rape young women and who has the wives of nobles crawl around with their tits hanging out,” he said. “And on top of that I’ve got a missing penetrata who I swore I’d protect. I’m afraid you’re going to see me get a lot harder, my friend.”
Despite the fact that the palace and the emperor lay only a dozen leagues away, Dalgaz was safe where he was, deep in a series of hidden rooms in the large building that was the brothel of his friend Teshan, here in the heart of the sex district of Xhagia’s capital city. The reasons for this safety were multiple, including the sense of allegiance within the slavers’ guild that was even stronger than loyalty to the empire, the fact that the new emperor had so publically embraced Dharkalism, which advocated the elimination of slavery on the grounds that races like Terrans were animals who needed to be more completely subjugated than simple slavery allowed, and the fact that Dalgaz had a longstanding and well-deserved reputation for doing favors for his fellow slavers, which had resulted in men like Teshan owing him more than a few in return. But it was still hard, to be cooped up in here all the time, despite the fact that he could go up to the high balcony and look out over the city and still be invisible from the outside, and despite the fact that Teshan insisted that he enjoy all the finest food and drink that the brothel could provide, as well as its more intimate pleasures.
When Dalgaz insisted that he didn’t want to be a pest, Teshan silenced him with a wave of his broad hand.
“A pest? Ha! Thanks to you, I’ve added two dozen penetrata from the imperial harem to my stable! Do you have any idea what girls like that would have cost me if I tried to buy them on the open market? Even with the economy falling apart, they alone are bringing more money into this place than you could possibly consume in food and drink and pussy. So enough with the false modesty, Dalgaz! You are my guest for as long as you desire!”
And that was that, and this included sanctuary for Kerdis, Chajar, and Yazther, the soldiers who had helped Dalgaz get the girls of the imperial harem out of the palace when he began his life as a fugitive. None of these men were as shy as Dalgaz about taking advantage of Teshan’s hospitality, either, and the brothel keeper had in fact begun to pay them as extra security. The news from outside was universally bad: violence had spread into the city and neighborhoods were forming their own protection as the police were overwhelmed. Martial law had technically been lifted, but a de facto curfew remained, and more and more soldiers had taken to looting citizens and homes because they weren’t being paid regularly. Many people, those who could afford to, had simply packed up and left the city, causing the local economy to contract still further and squeezing those who had to remain. Indeed, of all the parts of the city, the sex district was now the safest, because the slavers’ guild had long kept order there.
But despite the luxury, despite the good food and drink and company, Dalgaz found that as the days passed into weeks his mood did not lighten. He spent much time alone, using Teshan’s network to comb the rumors that leaked out of the palace; he recruited several of the slaves, including Patricia and Jacqueline, both formerly of the imperial harem, to check for anything, any rumor, any evidence about what had happened in the imperial palace all those months ago. Sometimes he would just sit with his own holopad; Kerdis had cut out its network connection, adding another felony to the long list of crimes he was now technically guilty of, meaning that Dalgaz had only his own records of the harem to peruse.
He often spent this time with her, with the memory of her.
Tonight it was a video, one of the hundreds he had made as part of her training, there being thousands of these for all the girls who had been in the harem. She was naked, her slender, feminine body moving gracefully as she crawled, and as she tossed her long, dark hair aside and looked at him with a smile. The video was from later in her education, when she had more completely assimilated into her new life as a slave girl, the role growing natural to her. He could see his own bare back and shoulders in the foreground, and he smiled at the memory, recalling the intense erection she had brought him. In the video, her gaze roamed over his and settled on his loins, and she giggled.
“Why, Master, your lovely cock is hard.”
His own chuckle then. “Lascivious little slut, of course it is.”
She moved, the camera following her automatically, her eyes mischievous as they consumed him. Another giggle escaped her perfect lips, even as he saw the lust growing in her eyes. The sensual movement of her hips, her thighs, her arms, and her breasts quivering just a bit as she posed before him, was all a quiet dance of invitation, of promises of such absolute ecstasy, offering herself to him even as her body begged with its own hunger. He could almost smell the scent of her need and her lust, and now reached out to caress her image, closing his eyes to let the memory wash over him.
Another voice then, from his door.
“Master?”
Dalgaz turned. Jacqueline stood there, clad only in a tiny laqhina that was drawn low around her curvaceous hips, this shimmering and translucent, and a thin, open negligee vest to match, her rich, full breasts parting this naturally. Her hair was curled and fell softly around her pale shoulders, and her face bore the familiar blush of a slave, lips red and glistening, eyes darkened with a hint of eyeshadow. Her legs, already long, were brought high by the shoes she wore, white pumps with heels that drew her feet into inviting points.
He smiled. Another gift from Teshan. “Good evening, Jacqueline,” he said. “Please, come in.”
The girl stepped forward. Her eyes fell to his holopad, to the images playing there, and she stopped as she reached him, gaze moving back to his own.
“Master Teshan has said that I am to please you this evening, Master Dalgaz.”
His lust, already very real because of the video, stirred.
“So I see. You’re quite lovely tonight, Jacqueline.”
She smiled, her eyes moving over him.
“Thank you, Master.”
She had been one of the final five he had trained, along with Patricia and Olivia and Helen and Christine, and he remembered well how she had felt in his arms, her body beneath him, and the way she had been so warm and moist and tight around his cock. And she, like the others, had blossomed into a real beauty, a curvaceous delight. Like Patricia, she now belonged to Teshan; Olivia and Helen had gone to different brothels, where they, like the other girls of the harem, might be safe.
And Christine? Dalgaz glanced at the image on his holopad again.
Nothing. No word. On the night he died Taj Rad had taken her to question her, and that was the last anyone had seen of her. And so even now Dalgaz wondered if he should hate her, if she was the assassin who had brought all this trouble on the empire, or if the feelings they had shared earlier, during those two weeks at his home, were real, if maybe she was more than just a slave girl, a delicious penetrata.
Beside him, Jacqueline moved a bit in her place, a subtle hint to remind him that she was there. Again his lust stirred, growing hard and urgent, the thought of her in his arms, of her wearing his baqqan and licking it from his finger, of the soft lips of her sex embracing him as he rode her hard, the taste of it as he raised her into ecstasy. But even the lust seemed empty tonight; he had used her many times, had fucked her hard as he trained her, but it would only be release if he did so now, only his needs, his lust. And he knew that this was not enough, not tonight. He would sate it later, he knew. It would grow too strong to resist and he was surrounded by lovely slave girls who he knew delighted in his touch. But tonight he wanted something more, wanted the memories of Christine, the images of her on his holopad, to close his eyes and see her face across his dining room table as she tasted the delicacies he had prepared for her, the way her hand had felt in his own as the two of them stood before the gravestones of his parents.
“Master?” Jacqueline asked, her voice soft.
He looked at her and read the expression in her eyes. Then he ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, just sensing the material of the laqhina tease against his wrist, and he touched her intimately.
“You’re moist,” he noted.
She shifted a little under his caress.
“Yes, Master.”
“And needful, I think.”
She said nothing, her hips moving slightly, a low, throaty moan escaping her. For a moment he kept his hand where it was, feeling the pressure of his own erect cock in his pants, the moisture at its tip, his own desire. Then he spoke to her softly.
“I don’t think I can tonight, Jacqueline. Listen now: Kerdis is in his room. Go there and beg him to take you. He likes you, you know. And I think you like him. A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be neglected simply because I’m too….”
She blushed as his voice faded, and she smiled. “Yes, Master,” she said. “Thank you, Master.”
He gave her rump a gentle tap. “Off with you now,” he told her. “Make Kerdis squirm.”
Jacqueline stepped away, and then hesitated at the door, looking back at him and the images on his holopad.
“Master, I’m sure she’s alive,” she said. “I just know it.”
His smile held his gratitude.
Four
The Festival