Slaves of Love (7 page)

Bahrd shoved the man in front of him, smaller by at least a head. The man touched Bahrd with one gloved hand, and he lurched backward, clearly in pain.

“You will sit and wait,” the slaver stated with authority.

Shena continued staring behind her as Dark Hair dragged her forward again, through a doorway, toward one of her greatest fears. He closed the door behind her, and she glanced around to see a large chair-like thing made of long pipes or rods of some sort.

“Sit,” the man commanded.

She glanced at the contraption, uncertain. Dark Hair grabbed her arms and spun her around, then backed her into the thing, pushing her downward. A strap slung under her thighs about six inches from her knees caught her weight, and another hugged her back at her waist. He grabbed her right wrist, positioned it above her head, and strapped it to the vertical rod on the right side of the chair thing, then took her left wrist and attached it to the left rod. Next, he tugged her leg forward, parallel to a horizontal rod extending straight out in front of her, and strapped her ankle to the hard metal. Similarly, he restrained her other ankle.

He stepped toward a high table jutting out from the wall, where he tapped on buttons and stared at some kind of changing display. With a whirring sound, the rods started to move, flattening out, positioning her in a stretched-out, horizontal position; then the ones at her ankles separated, opening her legs.

Shena’s breaths became short and hollow. The man stepped toward her, scissors in his hand, and pushed up her gown, exposing her underwear. She gasped as he slipped his finger under the white cotton at the crotch and tugged the garment away from her body, then clipped the cloth with the scissors, exposing her most private flesh. Her face burned.

Oh, God, this is really happening.

He slid his hand away, his fingers grazing her pubic curls. What was almost more frightening than his touch was the total look of indifference on his face. He returned to his controls and tapped at the buttons. A movement near her ankles her drew her attention. A silver device moved toward her, a long, slender oval, like a fat cigar, moving upward between her knees. She tried to close her legs, but the straps held her firm. In fact, she realized that she couldn’t move her lower body at all. Panic roared within her. Her wrists strained against the straps as she tried to kick her legs, but nothing happened.

The device continued moving higher, now between her thighs. She sucked in deep breaths as it came closer, zeroing in on her womanhood, and her breath caught as the cold, hard metal nudged against her.

Her vision blurred and she felt faint.

Oh, God ... Oh, God ... Oh, God.

Was it going to thrust inside her?

Thoughts spun wildly through her head, but the device stopped when it firmly pressed against her soft flesh, slightly parting the folds.

She released the air from her lungs, then drew in another breath. They were checking if she was a virgin, she reminded herself. It wouldn’t be very useful if the test itself broke her maidenhead.

Every muscle tensed, she waited for what would happen next. Her shallow breathing left her feeling light-headed. Suddenly, nausea rolled through her stomach as something -- or things -- seemed to crawl into her, like the legs of some giant spider. They crept up the walls of her vagina, then continued moving deep inside her, probably into her womb. She lay stiff and shaking as the things prodded her insides. She had never known a moment so long or filled with such dread as she now experienced. It seemed like hours as the tendrils swirled inside her. Then painfully, slowly, they withdrew. The cold device eased away from her.

Her head flopped back, her neck resting on another strap. At least that was over. The whirring began again, but this time, the rods drew her upright and folded her forward, her backside thrust behind her, her legs still held wide apart. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel a cold metal device brush against her buttocks, then settle firmly against her anus. It pushed forward a fraction more, opening her a little, and then the tendrils invaded her again. Tears prickled at her eyes as the device squirmed within her, fluttering against her insides, torturing her with an almost intangible touch. A few moments later, the tendrils slipped out, and the device drew away.

This time, the whirring rods returned her to a sitting position, but another device approached her face. When she tried to jerk away, she found she couldn’t move her shoulders, neck, or head.

The device pushed between her lips, and the tendrils explored the inside of her mouth, then slid down her throat. She felt the need to gag, but her body did not obey. She felt sick at the invasion of her body, but she wondered if the butterflies in her stomach were nausea, or the legs of the device swirling inside her.

The tendrils withdrew, and Shena, once again able to move, immediately threw up all over the sterile-looking white floor. Her captor didn’t even look up as the foul smell of her vomit filled the room. A small, round device on wheels, about a foot around and three inches high, scurried across the floor and disposed of the mess, leaving the floor gleaming white once again.

A few moments later, after tapping on his buttons and staring at his device, the man released the straps at her wrists and ankles. She immediately shoved her gown down to cover herself. He pulled her to her feet and led her back to the other room, then pushed her into a chair. A regular one this time, although not like the wooden ones Shena was used to.

Bahrd stared at her as if she might have found a way to cheat him; then he turned to the slavers. The original man who’d brought her and Bahrd to the wagon had left.

“Because this device will tell us if she’s lying.” The blond slaver turned to Shena. “Have you ever had vaginal intercourse with a man?”

Good God, why would they ask such a thing?

“Have you ever had oral intercourse with a man?”

Her eyes widened, and she locked gazes with the indifferent gray eyes of her interrogator for a split second before shifting to stare at her hands. “No.”

“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.

“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.”

“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.

“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.