Y
27
The light chains the girl had draped about her jingled with every breath. She could not see—a hood was wrapped loosely around her head—and an enchanting, highly ornamental piece of music lilted strangely in her ears from somewhere very close by. Bea had heard its like before and only recently while in the company of the Floran Ambassador, but a few days ago. The melodic cadence flowed high and low in peculiar rhythms that were not completely unlike the Floran’s own sing-song speech. The creature must have been standing right next to her. Bea could not recognize any of the instruments being played, if instruments there were, nor could she identify any genre the tune might possibly approach. Whatever the music was called, it was magnificently beautiful: it brought images of birds, grass, and sweet gardens to Bea’s unoccupied mind. In the darkness of her slave’s hood, she could have listened to it for hours.
She had been given away. “You have won,” the Rexus of Woom had said to the former Eben Halc after the duel, after the death of her old master, may he rot in pieces. “All that was Larr’s is yours, including his name.” The Rexus had tilted his head then and glanced at the Floran standing nearby.
That was where she had heard the music earlier. The notes had followed the creature wherever it went.
“In theory, at least,” the Rexus had gone on to say. “You are not a citizen of this city, nor do we want you as one. Take no offense in this, but understand, tribesman. We permitted Larr among us because he could provide us wealth. Even then the decision did not come lightly. We were not aware he used invisible weapons during trials of blood.” He looked angry. “His name is spoilt forever here now.”
Her former shipmate had looked so pleasing in Bea’s eyes. He had looked so strong and so very masculine. She was hot for him, as a slave was hot for any man. Eben Halc had looked the Rexus straight in the eyes as he replied.
“I understand. I will press no claim of citizenship.” Behind him, looking more peaceful than at any time Bea had seen her on Y, the former Serry Garrant slept in a post-quenching state of utter relaxation. After the duel, Halc had carried her to a couch in the observation chamber and lain her there gently.
Before returning to the Rexus, Bea had seen Halc part the slave’s hair with his hand, lifting it from her face with the utmost delicacy, caressing. As only a Yn slave herself, Bea had blushed with heated envy.
“Good,” the Rexus said, nodding. “That will avoid complications. In our annals, then, this duel today will have been fought between two Floran citizens, not Yn.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “It will be the first and only such contest I would hazard, the Florans being such a miserable, cowardly lot.”
The Ambassador said not a word at this insult, nor did its smiling expression change in the slightest. Its unearthly music played uninterruptedly, its eyes seeing something no one else in the room could.
“Mifa,” the Rexus of Woom had called, and a pretty slave in a short white toga came and knelt at his feet with a ledger and pen. “Take this down. Today, a citizen of the city, Larr Gutis Mozez Voestra, died as a result of . . . accident. He left no heirs, he had no family to continue his name, nor has any of his retainers pressed suit to claim it.” Larr’s men after the duel had uniformly dropped their swords in the street and departed in shame. “All his property, including his slaves, as such returns to the state.”
Halc had opened his mouth to complain—he put a hand to his sword at the same time—but the Rexus waved to him shortly, in reassurance.
“In an unrelated manner, it came to the attention of the Rexus today that the City-State of Woom owes a debt to the Floran ambassador-in-residence, and though the Florans be shirkers of honorable combat, lovers of peace, and, worse, unwomanly unmen, a debt is a debt and therefore must be paid.”
He had tilted his head at Halc. “As such, a select choice of property was given to the Floran Ambassador on this day. Items at that time were claimed by the Ambassador’s representative.”
The slave transcribed everything. “Will that be all, master?” The Rexus had nodded. He then told Halc that, aside from the citadel, anything of Larr’s that the former Centauri officer wanted was his for the taking. To the Rexus’ rather stunned expression, Halc pressed for only two items: the former Serry Garrant, and, to Bea’s stunned relief, herself. Once more, she belonged to one of her former shipmates.
That was three days ago.
Her new owner had taken manly possession of his slave that first night after the duel. Oh, how she had squealed herself his slave within his arms! Bea had almost forgotten what a powerful thing a Yn orgasm was! Later, Halc had questioned her at length about her time on Y, and he thanked her again for saving his life. Bea had humbly kissed him and told him it was her duty to please her master.
“Then why did you cry out as you did?” Halc asked her. “You were owned by Larr. He was your master. Surely you knew you wouldn’t be pleasing him at that moment.” He was cuddling her warmly.
“There is a difference between being owned and having a master,” Bea replied. “Larr owned me, but he never truly became my master.”
Tears had made her eyes glisten. “That has only happened for me once here.” Halc kissed her then and made a more gentle yet equally thorough use of her, quenching her body’s carnal appetites.
Bea had gone to her kennel that next evening thinking about what it would be like to be owned by Eben Halc. It came to her in the early morning that though she loved her new master—he had swayed her, and, accordingly, she couldn’t help but love him, at least a little—and he had, too, rescued her from a horrible fate with Larr, she did not really want to be owned by him.
The realization made her nauseous. It ran in opposition to every instinct now inside her.
She was a slave. She needed to be owned. With every part of her, Bea wanted to be owned . . . just not by Eben Halc. It wasn’t that she was afraid he would turn out to be as bad as Larr. No one could be as bad as Larr. And it wasn’t that she felt Halc wouldn’t be a good master.
Bea could tell by looking at her former shipmate, tell from the heat in her loins whenever she gazed upon him, that the pleasure he would give her would be great. She felt a great envy for Serry.
It was just that Halc was too close to her old life for comfort. Bea remembered fighting her slavery in those early days of hers on Y, but in the time since she had made peace with it, and more. She loved being a slave! Being in the possession—no, being the possession—of a Yn master, Bea now fully acknowledged, was the height of ecstasy and bliss. She no longer felt ashamed of that. As a slave, she was choiceless, it was true, but what of it? She had been raised in a Hereditarian household. History was sacred, and Bea knew that in most of history freedom had enjoyed only brief flowering periods.
Having freedom was good, but it was not everything. There were other things as well: peace, security, justice . . . and love. Yes, love! Love and freedom were not opposed to one another. They could and perhaps should co-exist together. But the one was not indispensable to the existence of the other.
One could find love without having freedom.
Bea had been reborn a Yn slavegirl. Her freedom had been stolen. That was, perhaps, a tragedy. But she had, too, at least once on Y, found love, and that love had more than made up for freedom’s lack.
So, it wasn’t the fact that Eben Halc was a Yn master that was Bea’s problem. It was that he had been a Betan officer beforehand. He was too close! He was too much of a reminder of what she had been. Bea wanted to love, and she could do without freedom in order to achieve it, but not if a sign of her former life were dangled constantly in front of her face. She could not lose herself in love around him.
Basically, Halc’s very presence ruined the fantasy. Around him, she wasn’t just a Yn slave, as she most desperately wanted to be. She was a Yn slave who had once been Senior Lieutenant Bea Stoc of Beta Prime, Chief Astrogation Officer of the starship Flags of Centauri Independence. Around him, she was ashamed to be a slave. Intentional or not, Halc would always be a killjoy.
Not that she could ever complain. She was but a mere slave.
Bea had been resigning herself to serving her new master—At least with him she would have orgasms again!—when Eben Halc came and told her to go with the Floran Ambassador. “Master?” she had said in a small voice, and that was when the hood had gone over her head.
“I am giving you away,” Halc told her, briefly, curtly. These were the last words spoken to her.
Where she was taken, who took her in his arms, who chained her, she had no idea. It was not uncommon for slaves to be handled so anonymously. Many hours passed, she knew only that, that and the Floran music perpetually playing in the background, a constant reminder that that gaudily bizarre creature was somewhere nearby. Perhaps it was comforting her. At last, she was put on her knees on cold pavement, and a stick was used to gently prod her knees open. Bea’s training from the Academy took over. She assumed the standard waiting position for a slave, her thighs open, her head down, her breasts lifted. And she waited.
A chill breeze brushed over her naked bosom. I’m no longer in Woom, she thought eventually.
She was outside somewhere. It was colder out, though still well within her Yn comfort zone. She heard birds behind the Floran music. In the distance, too, she heard the heavy tread of men marching.
Somehow, the noises all seemed vaguely familiar.
He had given her away, just like that. But, in a way, she was glad. She wouldn’t have been happy with Halc as her master, good as he might have been. Bea just wanted to be a slave. She wanted to lose herself in her slavery. In front of her, she heard a door open. The Floran’s music abruptly stopped.
Had the creature left? She tensed. Where in the world was she!? Where had she been brought?
“It’s her!” she heard a woman cry out. “It’s her, Master! I’m sure of it!” She heard a shrill laugh.
“The Floran kept its word,” another voice spoke, a man’s voice. Bea’s heart began to beat very fast.
No, it couldn’t be.
There were tiny breathing holes in the hood at the same level as her mouth and nose. They let in a little light. A shadow eclipsed that light. Bea sensed the presence of a large Yn male towering over her.
Could it be!? She hardly dared hope! The voices sounded so familiar!
“It’s her,” the man said, definitively, and the woman behind him yelled for joy. Bea felt a pair of hands at the hood. It was pulled off. She looked up, eyes straining and pained from the hours of darkness.
When her vision cleared, Bea shouted out, an exclamation of purest joy.
“Welcome back, little slave,” the mighty Baor Korez, Rexus of Tolaam said, standing over her. Not far behind him, Bea saw her onetime friend, the precious Onora, holding her hands before her bosom and jumping up and down like an absolute madwoman. Her mammoth breasts bounced deliciously.
“Take her inside, Master! Oh, please, please take her inside!” Onora squealed in joy. The Floran was nowhere to be seen.
Bea was speechless. She felt like she was going to faint.
Korez turned to his other slave. “Discipline, proctor,” he told her austerely. “Remember. You are my head slave now. Show some discipline.”
“I’ll try, Master, I’ll try,” Onora shouted out. “She’s back, my Master!” She laughed uproariously.
“Is this a dream?” Bea asked gently. She all but fell into Korez’s arms. He picked her up effortlessly.
Korez carried Bea across the threshold of his citadel, the Citadel Korez, in the heart of the City-State of Tolaam, where he ruled. She was taken into his citadel as a slave. Slowly, he disentangled her from her chains. “No,” he said. “No dream. The Floran brought you back to me as a favor for another.”
Eben Halc? Bea’s body blazed with fiery passion. If her former shipmate had been there, she would have kissed his feet. He had arranged to bring her home!
Korez barely managed to get inside before he stopped. “I cannot wait,” he said. “Arrange my rooms for me, Onora.” The gorgeous proctor bowed, fell to her knees, and said she would at once obey. She ran off, still squealing. Korez carried Bea over to the side of his anteroom near a set of wooden posts.
He pulled away his kilt, laid aside his coronet. It rolled away heedlessly. Bea lay on her back beneath him. “Is this a dream, my Master?” she asked again.
“You tell me.”
Korez’s hand moved between her legs. Bea writhed in pleasure. A slow moan emerged from between her parted lips. “Master,” she breathed. He bent over and put his mouth on her, on the warm, moist center of her. Bea spread her legs very wide. Her hands clutched at the wooden post behind her.
Her owner began licking her out. As his mouth closed upon her, as his tongue explored the sweet tenderness within, Bea exploded in ecstasy. Her whole body bucked up and down. She pulled on the posts with her hands, providing herself leverage. At the same time, she thrust her hips forward toward him, spreading wider and wider until she was nearly spread-eagled. She arched her back in one final exquisite burst of pleasure, and then Korez put his hands behind her and lifted, taking her to a bench.
He kissed her everywhere, making patterns of his saliva and her own orgasmic fluids over her red skin.
She bit and licked at him whenever he was in reach. Their faces met, and their tongues sought each other out, wrapping round one another, sucking. He straddled her, placing his massive thighs to either side. His swollen erection dragged over her belly and between her legs before he plunged inside.
“OH MASTER!!” she exclaimed. “OH MASTER, MASTER!!!”
She had forgotten how good her Master felt inside her. Once more he proclaimed his ownership of her. When he came, his cum ignited Bea like an old-fashioned rocket ship.
“Aiiihhhhhh!!! Oh Gods, Master!! AHHHHHHH!!!!!”
His hands kneaded her breasts, smaller on average than the typical Yn woman’s, that was still true, but even so much larger than those she had sported as an insensitive human female.
He cupped and squeezed them.
Korez thumbs ran over her nipples. He bit and kissed at her until she exploded again, over and over.
“MASTER!! PLEASE, MASTER!!” A titanic wash of purest happiness and joy enveloped Bea.
He swayed her. “You are a slave. You were born to be a slave. You were born to please men.”
“I am a slave,” Bea whispered back, nearly out of breath for screaming so loud. The whole citadel must have heard her. She couldn’t have cared in the least. “I was born to be a slave. I was born to please men.”
“Pleasing men is your greatest desire. Pleasing men makes you hot. You are a hot and needy slave.”
“Pleasing men is my greatest desire. Pleasing men makes me hot. I am a hot and needy slave.”
Larr had sometimes swayed her with these same traditional words, but the effect was never the same as this. Never once. Bea’s heart felt like it was swelling with pride and joy. She was a joyful slave.
“You are my slave,” her blessed Master swayed her, shaping her consciousness. “You are my slave.”
She was his slave. She was the slave of Baor Korez, the Rexus of Tolaam. She was his property.
“I am your slave,” Bea exclaimed, climaxing helplessly. “I am your slave! I am your slave!” She repeated the words forever. Her Master took her again, and she screamed once more like the taken slave she was. “Oh, Master! Master!! I am a slave! I am a slave! I love you, Master! I love you!!”
“You are Haru,” he swayed her, later, after quenching her a bit so as she could fully comprehend. The warmth of his semen inside her, the wet trickling down her inner thighs, triggered little electric bursts of pleasure every second. When he spoke to her, when he commanded her, they became even better.
“I am Haru, Master,” the taken slave replied, and just like that the deed was done. Bea was no more, thank the Gods! She was only Haru, the slave, once more. “I am Haru, Master. Thank you, Master.”
She dropped to her knees before him and took him into her mouth. She loved him—Him!—so very much. He tasted so good!! Haru’s lips folded around the thick shaft of him. She pushed herself onto him, drawing his meat further inside until her mouth pressed against the side of his body. Her tongue swirled around his masterhood, his magnificence . . . her magnificence! When his seed filled her mouth and stomach, jetting down her throat like an fountaining geyser, the slave Haru’s mind all but shut down.
Everything disappeared in that ongoing explosion of ecstasy, of total womanhood, of completed slavery.
Her Master picked her up. His mouth met hers once more, their cum-slick tongues sliding greasily over the other. They kissed deeply, soulfully. Haru’s heat rose until she was but a mass of molten metal.
Her Master took the entire rest of the day—a long thirty-two hour Yn day—to reacquaint himself with his lost possession. “You will never leave me again,” he informed her casually. “I admit it. I became a trifle fond of you, my little alien girl.” He massaged her breasts. “Mostly, though, you are back for my men. Some of them complained a little of your absence.”
“Did you truly miss me, my Master?” Haru whispered to him. She could barely stop from kissing and sucking at him long enough to make the proper words.
“Well, not really. Not at all. You are only a slave,” her Master said, leaning back with typical masculine arrogance. She loved him! “Don’t let this attention go to your head, little slut. You are . . . just a minor craving, easily satisfied. Some of the men asked for you, perhaps. I forget.” He smiled as he said it. His studied indifference spoke volumes to Haru’s cum-enhanced Yn senses. He liked her!
Her Master was actually fond of her! Haru’s heart burst with an even greater eruption of pleasure.
“And,” he went on, “I think some of the girls might have missed you too.”
After she was cleaned up a little, and her Master sent her down to her old kennel, Onora met Haru and swept her up in a cheerful embrace. “Sack-law-ee-yahhh,” she said, endearingly mispronouncing the name. “Ab-by-yeah! Had-bahhh!” She went on, naming with great flourish the planets and greater moons of the Betan system in Centauran.
She mispronounced every one, not that Haru cared. She had remembered!
The proctor giggled and kissed Haru on the mouth. “I missed you!” She licked at Haru’s face. “And oooo, so nice, you smell of Master’s use still!”
Their hands roamed over each other’s voluptuous bodies. They cuddled in the dark of the slave quarters. “It’s been so long,” Haru said, tears in her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d remember me!”
“Master was beside himself with anger for allowing that bad man to steal you away. He actually sent a ship out to search for you!” Onora laughed delightedly. “He was depressed for nearly three brawls!”
Haru’s skin felt like it was glowing. “You’ve become proctor,” she said. She kissed Onora’s cheek.
The head slave of Citadel Korez nodded, not even attempting a show of stoic dignity.
“A colleague of Master’s on the council made an impressive offer for Theru. After much discussion Master accepted. Theru is now only a serving slut in the man’s household, but she’s happy, she tells me. She comes to visit every ten days or so.” Onora dragged Haru into the nearest narrow kennel.
“Her advice is invaluable,” Onora said. “There’s so much to do as proctor. Men are so needy!”
“The man who stole me,” Haru said, “he made me his head slave for a time. It was awful.”
Onora soothed her, taking her lover in her arms. “The three of us should compare notes.” The head slave looked over Haru and put on an expression of mock sternness. “But don’t think you’re going to get any special privileges here, little small titty alien girl!” Haru giggled. It was so nice to be home.
“Just because I’m the head slave and all. You’re just another slut here.” Onora kissed her hard.
“I’m just another slut,” Haru whispered back, and she too giggled. She and Onora wriggled around in the narrow confines of their kennel, and they took a great while to become acquainted once more.
It all came back, all of it. The joy, everything. After all this time, Haru was home again.