Sold To The Warlord
Astral Heat Book 2
Ashley Hunter
Copyright 2016 by Ashley Hunter
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced
in any way whatsoever, without written permission
from the author, except in case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews
and articles.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any
character, person, living or dead, events, place or
organizations is purely coincidental. The author does not
have any control over and does not assume any responsibility
for third party websites or their content.
First edition, 2016
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1: The Flesh Market
Chapter 2: Resistance
Chapter 3: A New Strategy
Chapter 4: Changing Perspectives
Chapter 5: An Ugly Secret
Chapter 6: Confrontation
Chapter 7: The Eternal Bond
Chapter 1: The Flesh Market
The heat of the Vakrallan sun bore down on Zalla without mercy. Sweat drenched her body, and she could barely stand. All around the open square, voices called out lewd remarks and hostile eyes pierced her with lustful gazes.
She felt utterly vulnerable and terrified but stared back defiantly at the rabble that had gathered for the auction. Most of them were copper skinned Vakrallans, the Trader Caste, judging by their dwarfish stature and head crests, but there were also a number of other beings from the neighbouring worlds around Vakrall.
One of them, a spidery creature from Vakrall’s Sapphire Moon, scuttled forward and fondled Zalla’s naked breasts with his slimy, sucker-like fingers.
“No handling the merchandise!” roared Odron, the hulking slave master in charge of the auction. He lumbered forward and smacked the creature hard across the back with his spike whip. The loathsome creature squealed in pain and retreated back into the crowd.
Zalla glowered at her captor. “I’m not merchandise,” she said in a venom-filled voice. “As I keep trying to tell you, if only it will sink into your thick skull, my name is Zalla Tran and I am a reporter with the Terran News Corp.
I’m also a citizen of Earth and you’ve made a grave mistake in attacking the transport ship I was on, you moronic sack of garbage. Do you really think the Earth Star Navy is going to let this open act of aggression go unpunished? You are in some serious trouble!”
Odron’s face-worms writhed in pleasure, and a savage grin split his granite grey face. He yanked the chain that was secured round her neck, pulling her clean off her feet. Pain ripped through Zalla’s knees as she fell onto the stony ground.
“I’m getting pretty tired of your constant protests,” Odron said in a menacing voice, grabbing a fistful of her curly blonde hair and yanking Zalla up to face him. His putrid breath washed over her, making the woman want to retch.
“You’re lucky Vakrallans value Earth females so highly, and you’re the only one I’ve got in stock at the moment or I’d have ripped off your lower jaw by now. If you don’t keep quiet, I might just do that. Now be a good girl and play with your tits and smile at the customers.”
He let her go and shoved her brusquely into the dirt. A nasty chuckle went up from the other alien females in the slave auction. Zalla shot them an ugly look. Like her, they had been captured by Odron and his gang from various locations and smaller vessels across the Rogue Zone.
Unlike Zalla, they had accepted their fate without question, rebuffing the brave woman’s attempts to get them to work together on escaping the slave traders. This part of the galaxy had never known the liberties and equality Earth took for granted. Brutality and slavery were part of everyday life, and here on Vakrall, life was less than cheap.
Stalking away from her, Odron grabbed the chain of the five-armed she-centaur from Corellio and pulled her over to the selling block. “My dear friends, have I got a bargain for you,” Odron called out to the crowd.
“A beautiful little filly wet and willing, ready to satisfy your most perverted desires. Let’s start the bidding for this precious creature at four hundred sovereigns. Who’ll start me off? Yes, four hundred from the mucus spawn at the back! Do I hear four hundred fifty anywhere?”
Zalla watched the auction in disgust. Before long, it would be her turn on the selling block and the very thought of it made all her defiance and bravado shrivel away to nothing.
No Earth fleet was rushing to save her. In fact, the Star Navy didn’t even send patrol ships this far into the Rogue Zone, in accordance with the terms of the non-aggressive pact between Earth and Vakrall.
Nor was she strictly a reporter with the News Corp. She’d only freelanced for them a couple of times before the work dried up, so no one was going to notice she wasn’t around. Nobody knew she was even out here. She was alone and with no chance of escaping back to Earth.
“Sold to the cyborg warlord!” Odron called out triumphantly. “Congratulations on such a canny buy. You won’t be disappointed,” he added, yanking the she-centaur’s chain and pulling her off the selling block to be collected by her purchaser.
Zalla’s stomach lurched. Time was running out. Despite her assertion otherwise, she really was just merchandise, a commodity to be sold on. The fact that she was not being sold into domestic drudgery was even worse. These ‘people’ who were bidding wanted something far more carnal. The irony tasted bitter.
She had travelled into deep space in search of true love, to find a man who would want her for who she was, who would look past the fact she wasn’t one of those skinny, pretty airheads that everyone went crazy for, and accept that she was a curvy, sensual woman. So far, that hadn’t happened.
In fact, she had waited so long for the right guy to come along that it had left a deep aching in her heart. In fact, she’d never even made love before, either to a human or anything else. Now though, she was going to end up a sex slave to one of these repulsive creatures. It was too cruel a fate to bear.
A tear trickled down her cheek and she closed her eyes, not wanting to look at the rabble any more. It was over for her. Her journey had come to an abrupt end and she’d never find her dream lover now.
* * *
With bored disinterest, Draz sauntered through the busy streets of Canx Spaceport. All around him, lowborn merchants and hawkers stood in front of their stalls and handcarts, appealing at the top of their voices for his patronage.
He ignored them with haughty disdain, swatting anyone who got too close away with a sharp flick of his riding crop. He so hated the stinking, close confines of urban habitation, and hankered for the freedom of the vast, open plains of Vakrall’s great deserts.
Striding a few feet ahead of him, Navan turned and scowled. “Keep up,” he said irritably. “We’ll miss the auction.”
“So what?” griped Draz. “Odron never has any decent pussy.”
Navan shot him a puzzled look. “What is pussy?”
“It is Earth slang,” Draz smirked. “Roughly translating, it means desirable females.”
Navan nodded. “Then we must hurry before they sell some decent pussy.”
Draz shook his head and sighed, as his cousin sped off through the throng. Like his relative, Draz belonged to the Vakrallan Warri
or Caste. Unlike the Trader and the Slave Castes, Warriors were tall and well-bodied. Draz, like his cousin, was no exception to the rule.
Toned and muscled, much of his copper coloured skin was visible thanks to the flimsy black tunic he wore. His short stubbly hair was cobalt blue, marking his status as a High Sheriff, and his eyes glittered fiery red. He had sharp, wolfish features and many females had been easily seduced by his brooding good looks and finely sculpted body.
Easily, that was the key word. It was very easy for him to seduce women of many differing species, and he had done so at every opportunity. The only problem was that he now found it mind-numbingly tedious.
“But that’s what I’m telling you, slugwit! Odron doesn’t have anything decent!” Draz called after his cousin. A shuffling Vakrall of the Slave Caste got in his way and he shoved the contemptible creature into the gutter.
“We won’t know that until we see for ourselves,” Navan retorted. “Come along! I hunger for succulent pussy.” The warrior raised his arms in the air and started chanting at the top of his voice. “Pussy! Pussy! Pussy!”
Draz snorted in disdain and caught up with his cousin. “That’s hardly behavior fitting for the next Despot,” he drawled sarcastically.
“I’m not Despot yet,” Navan said glumly, “and I never will be until that old spider licker doesn’t hurry up and die.”
“Lord Seurus will not linger,” Draz assured him. “The poison in his wound gets worse every day. It will not be long before he decides to take the Final Crossing.”
“I hope so,” Navan said with feeling. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to command my own war fleet, and you cousin will be well looked after when my day of triumph finally does come. When I am Despot, I will make you my Supreme Overseer.”
“You honour me,” Draz replied, feigning enthusiasm. If he was honest, he already found his current duties as High Sheriff onerous and exhausting. Trying to maintain law and order in places like vice-riddled Canx and the other cesspit settlements scattered across Vakrall’s Western Territory was a near impossible task.
When he became Overseer, his duties would become even more impossible. Draz despised bureaucracy and paperwork. He longed for the simpler days of his past, when he was fighting pirates and revolutionaries in the Eldritch Underlands.
Still, it was no use dwelling on what had gone before. He and Navan had a bright future ahead of them, and that was all that mattered.
A sizable crowd had gathered in the market square where the auction was being held. At sight of the two warriors people parted and bowed allowing them to get to the front without any real difficulty.
“I told you this was a waste of time,” Draz grumbled, casting a quick glance round at the females being auctioned. “There’s nothing of any quality. Look at that stringy she-centaur, riddled with mange, and over there, he has a Gludge Maiden from Fomore. You know they shoot acid out of their vaginas? Very romantic.”
Navan sniggered, and Draz studied the other slaves, looking to find more faults when he froze and his heart suddenly jumped into his mouth. There, at the far end of the square, kneeling close to a Rock Woman from Granita, was an Earth female.
Draz stood open-mouthed as he took in her tangle of dark gold hair and pretty, oval shaped face. Naked, save for a mesh thong, he feasted his eyes on her gorgeous curves and voluptuous breasts, large and ripe.
Her skin was the same creamy white of a snow griffin, and he hungered to run his tongue along the contours of that full, goddess like body of hers.
As he fantasised at what he would do to her, she suddenly turned her head in his direction. A thrill of fear went through him, something he rarely felt, and he had to fight the instinct to retreat into the crowd. Holding his ground though, he gazed back at her and was struck by the abject misery on her face.
Unlike the other females, whose jaded indifference to their situation was clearly stamped on their faces, this bewitching human exuded a sense of overridden fear and vulnerability.
Draz was overwhelmed by the urge to reach out and protect her. This filthy slave auction was no place for her. She deserved to be wrapped in silks and treated like an empress.
“You’re right,” Navan said, interrupting his thoughts. “There’s nothing here worth the effort, though I’d take the she-centaur from behind if I was utterly desperate. Let’s go.”
“Not yet,” Draz said quickly. He raised his riding crop and gestured to Odron, who had just auctioned off a boyish looking vampire hermaphrodite from the Orchid Galaxy. The disgusting slave trader waddled over to him and bowed low.
“Prince Navan, High Sheriff Draz, I am honoured you have attended my little auction today,” Odron said in an unctuous tone. “I trust you find my humble wares to your liking?”
“The Earth woman,” Draz said brusquely. “I want her.”
“Certainly sire, you will get the chance to bid for that curvy little delicacy in due course.”
Without warning, Draz lashed out with his riding crop striking Odron across the face. The slave trader staggered back, and a mocking cheer went up from the crowd. “I want her now,” Draz said in a flat voice. He unhooked the small coin purse from his belt and threw it at Odron. “Eight hundred sovereigns should cover it.”
“Eight hundred?” Odron protested. “I can get twice that much if I put her up for auction!”
A deathly stare from Draz silenced the little slime toad immediately, and he quickly bowed again. “On reflection, eight hundred is a most generous offer Your Excellency. The female is yours.”
Draz nodded brusquely. “Take her to our sand viper. It’s waiting near the Southern Gate.”
“Of course, sire. Thank you so much,” Odron grovelled, though Draz caught the flash of resentment in the slave trader’s beady eyes. “I will tend to it immediately.” He scurried away and started shouting at two of his servants to take the Earth woman out of the auction. Ignoring Navan’s sly gaze, Draz shot a covert look at his purchase.
The beautiful woman was looking around in confusion and dread, as Odron’s men carried out his instructions. Draz’s eyes raked over her peachy butt and shapely hips, and his erection stained uncomfortably against the tight thong he wore. He couldn’t wait to get his prize back to the palace and slowly explore her.
He’d never been driven so wild with desire for any female before, and he revelled in the giddy excitement he was experiencing. This was actually even better than the thrill of battle.
“And there was me thinking you’d started liking males,” Navan chuckled. “Not a bad choice though cousin. A little on the heavy side for my tastes, but I will be interested in giving her a good pounding after you’ve finished with her.”
Draz barked a laugh, but the thought of sharing her suddenly made him flare with anger. The idea of his human goddess not belonging exclusively to him provoked a surge of jealousy that was truly shocking. He wanted her to all to himself, now and forever.
Chapter 2: Resistance
With anxiety gnawing at her gut, Zalla was escorted away from the auction by Odron’s goons. At first, she thought Odron had decided to go through with his promise to kill her, but she soon gathered from her escort that someone had bought her right out.
She tried to think who that could be, but she hadn’t really been focusing on the lecherous crowd. If she was honest, it didn’t really matter. Whichever freak it was, they intended to use her however way they wanted, but they would be in for a nasty surprise. With cold determination, she made a vow to herself that she would escape her captor no matter what, or die trying in the attempt.
Leaving the din and swelter of the narrow streets, Odron’s men took her into an open courtyard just inside the spaceport’s walls. Two monstrous and very dangerously looking prowler lizards were tethered to a hitching post, alongside an open-topped serpentine vehicle.
As Zalla was shoved unceremoniously into the back of the vehicle, two handsome Vakrallan warriors sauntered over to the lizards and mounted on each.
“Open the gate!” yelled one of the warriors in a commanding tone. He had blood red hair tied into a ponytail, and a vicious looking scar sliced diagonally across his face.
Zalla quailed at the sight of him. He exuded an aura of raw brutality and she felt a renewed sense of dread at what was going to happen to her.
As the metallic gate swung open, Scarface dug his heels into the flanks of the lizard he was riding and it bounded off into the bleak desert beyond. His companion, a slightly less intimidating warrior with short blue hair, followed on his heels. As he came past, he shot a look at Zalla.
A frisson of delight surged through her as she got a clear look at the warrior’s attractive, boyish face. His eyes seemed to burn with a sultry fire as he looked at her, but then he turned his head abruptly and the moment was gone.
As he passed through the gate, the server droid at the controls of the vehicle powered it into life. Zalla looked around, seeing that Odron’s men were walking away. This was the perfect chance to make a break for it.
As if reading her thoughts, the droid pressed a button on the console and a shimmer of blue light surrounded the vehicle. Zalla sank back in her seat and swore under her breath. A force field, that was just great. Her last hope was gone and the vehicle slithered out of the courtyard following the lizards.
A desolate stony plain spread out endlessly before her, baked by the garish green sun up above. Zalla glared out ahead of her and found her gaze kept snagging on the broad back of the warrior who had deigned to look at her.
His tight tunic showed off his powerful arms and strong legs, and his smooth, copper colored skin seemed to glisten in the sunlight.
The sight of him sparked a longing ache between her legs and she had to remind herself she’d been captured and sold against her will. She had learnt all about the Vakrallan Warrior Caste in her xenoanthropology studies.
Sold to the Warlord (Astral Heat Book 2) Page 1
