Ravished
By
Kallista Dane and Kate Richards
Chapter One
Trina
Pacing. Twelve steps one way, fourteen the other.
I’d paced the confines of my low-ceilinged cell so many times I’d worn a trail in the inch-thick layer of grime, revealing a faded patterned flooring beneath. With no windows to the outside or timekeeping devices of any kind, the days passed in a blur. My captor or his assistant brought me food once a day—although I suspected they’d missed once or twice—so I’d either been here thirty days or maybe thirty-two or three. Or more. Or less.
Perhaps they brought food twice sometimes. I had no way to know for sure. The lack of anything to do, no screens to watch, or work to do was about to drive me insane. I’d even tried to organize the items sparsely lining the storage shelves, partly to find something useful and partly to occupy my mind. Someone more clever might have figured out how a small porcelain statue, some costume jewelry, and the other items could equal an escape device, but I couldn’t.
Next to the door, I’d piled my empty meal dishes. Small silver-foil-covered trays, the self-heating kind that held unidentifiable messes of nutritionally acceptable meals. I choked down every bite for two reasons. First, the factory packaging offered an indication they were not drugged—something I could not be sure of in the cups of tea I poured down the drain in the floor. And second, I needed to be as strong and healthy as possible to escape should the opportunity arise.
A single lighting globe cast shadows into the corner of my unheated prison, which had, at some point in history, been a laundry area. That was the only reason I could afford to waste the beverages they brought me. On my second day, with a mouth as dry as sandpaper, I’d found the faucets behind some empty storage shelves. They took some doing to twist and, at first, spewed rusty water that trickled across the floor to the drain in the center but, after a while, ran clean and pure and, so far as I could determine, drinkable. And since my captors offered me no means of washing, my find enabled me to do that. I had only the clothes I wore, a lycrex jumpsuit and low boots, but I had managed to rinse out my undergarments, at least.
While they were drying, I drowsed on a pile of rags only slightly less filthy than the floor, doing everything I could to preserve my strength, but the minimal amount of food, unending dimness, and uncomfortably cold temperature had begun to erode my strength.
In the worst moments, I questioned whether my pride was worth my sanity. My life.
The click of the key in the door gave warning of an impending visitor. Which one would it be this time? And why so soon? I couldn’t be certain, but I believed it had only been a few hours since that sniveling assistant of Ravensworth’s had tossed a meal at me along with the thermal container of tea I’d tossed. Not that I’d had my guard down at any point since my kidnapping, but the change in routine had the fine hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up.
The door creaked open, revealing the skinny, sniveling assistant—nothing new there—but behind him towered two hulks dressed in silvery gray suits that barely managed to contain their overabundance of musculature. They wore their hair shaved close, and both their noses had the smashed-in look of a boxer who lost often.
My mouth went dry, and my heart banged against my ribcage.
“Let’s go, bitch,” snapped the assistant whose name I had never bothered to learn. “The boss wants to see you upstairs.”
I stayed where I was, as if my lack of motion could prevent whatever was about to happen. “No thanks. I’m all tied up this afternoon”—if it was afternoon—“and cannot fit him in. Perhaps tomorrow would be better. I’ll have to get back to you.”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” the assistant snarled, but instead of moving toward me, he stepped back and waved to the muscle twins. “Bind her and carry her upstairs.”
I’d thought things were about as bad as they could get, but, suddenly, sitting in a damp, cold basement storage area on the edge of hypothermia sounded not too bad. I slid backward on my knees until the wall behind me stopped my motion. I held my hands in front of me as if they could fend off two men each at least twice my weight, but that just made it easier for them to loop cord around them and drag me toward the door.
“Wait, wait!” I begged, as I struggled to keep my face from scraping along the floor. I’d probably catch some kind of a terrible disease if my skin broke. “I’ll walk.”
The assistant grinned and winked at me. “I knew you’d see reason. The boss was about to give up on you, you know. But I told him, after nearly six weeks down here, you’d do almost anything for a shower.” His gaze went from me to where my underthings hung. “It won’t take long to strip you and get you under that water, either. You’re a dirty girl, taking off your unmentionables like that. But”—he shrugged—“the boss will keep you naked anyway. Until he gets bored with you.” He waved at the goons. “Help the lady to her feet and escort her upstairs, gentlemen. She has a date to spread her legs for the big guy. If she’s gonna be bruised, he’d prefer to do it himself.” He tapped a finger on his cheek. “Hope you like being whipped.” Then he turned and headed out the door, his laughter carrying after him. “Not that it matters. Like it or not, he’ll enjoy breaking you.
A shiver ran down my spine, but when the goons jerked on my rope, I pushed myself to my feet and marched along behind. Things seemed dire, but at least the main part of the mansion would have doors and windows. At this point, I’d throw myself out anything up to three stories and take my chances.
The assistant paused on the first landing, waiting for me to catch up, then took the cord from the gorilla who held it and marched me upward. “I got this, fellas, and I’d like to have a word with the lady before we get her ready for the boss.” I perked up, pretty sure I could escape from this weasel pretty easily. But my hopes were dashed when he said, “But stick close in case I need you. Who knows, if she doesn’t measure up, he might be willing to pass her along for some fun.”
I heard a grunt from one and a chuckle from the other. Bile bubbled up in my throat.
Before long, we exited the basement area into an industrial kitchen. Sure enough, there were windows, and, for the first time in six weeks—could it really be that long? I’d sure been off—I knew roughly what time it was. The sky was dark, and the kitchen dim and empty of activity. Probably late at night. I cast around for a clock but saw none.
And no door to the outside. Big windows, though, and, as the assistant led me across the room to another set of stairs and through a maze of narrow, concrete floored corridors designed a long time ago for servants to use, I tried to keep track of our journey so, the first time someone turned their head, I’d be out the door and away.
I accepted I’d probably be thoroughly ravaged when I did, but my freedom mattered more than my honor. Unlike all of my friends, I had yet to take a lover, and now I regretted my pickiness. I was old-fashioned and had held out for true love. What a joke. Instead of a nice evening out with a handsome guy followed by a friendly toss, I’d be raped.
Which brought to mind a question. One I’d had for some time, six weeks, apparently, and never asked because I didn’t want to encourage anything. But now, it didn’t matter. We made a turn and emerged into a wide hallway with maroon-and-gold fabric wall coverings and carpet so deep I sank to the tops of my boots. The ceiling was a mural painted by an artist more than four centuries before. I knew this from history class in school. I stood in the private quarters of Ravensworth, just outside the bedroom of state.
“Look, before I go in there,” I said, licking my dry lips, “can you tell me why, if he’s going to rape me now, he didn’t do it before? I mean, if he doesn’t require my consent, why the delay?”
“Really, don’t you know?” The assistant put his palm on a pad next to the door, a modern touch in all the ancient grandeur. “He’s been watching you on-screen all this time. Building his appetite for that sweet flesh you so
kindly bared when you washed up. Pouring all our drinks down the drain. They weren’t drugged, you know. You were entertaining enough as it was.” He removed his hand, and the door clicked and opened inward. “Let’s go. The bathroom is on the left. As much fun as it was to watch you wallow in the dirt, he won’t want his wife coming home to a grimy bed.”
“When does she return?” I held my breath for his answer. Perhaps I’d only be raped for a day or two. Why wasn’t that comforting?
“She’s at her mother’s for the week. Just left in fact. That’s another reason you were down there. He could hardly bring you up here and fuck your brains out with his wife home, could he?” He jerked the rope, sending me stumbling into the room. “That wouldn’t be respectful.”
I dug my heels in, trying to buy time, although I could hardly buy a whole week. If the hallway had been elegant, the bedroom was more so. Black-and-gray bedding, matching flocked wallpaper, and gleaming polished floor with what I’d swear were silk throw rugs. The fireplace was marble, the mirror over it huge and gilded. A historic room occupied by a modern tyrant.
“Now, off to the shower with you. And get good and clean, you filthy whore.” He freed my wrists. “Ravensworth wants you nice and sweet when he gets up here, and if you’re not, he’ll make us both pay.”
Filthy whore? I might be filthy, although I’d done my best not to be, but I was nobody’s whore. Yet. But rather than argue, I headed for the bathroom, with some vague idea of locking myself in. But I should have known better.
“Leave it open,” he sneered. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until the boss gets here to take you in hand.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “And remember, my associates are right outside the door. You don’t want me to get them in here to help.”
I stripped under the watchful eye of a man who I could probably beat up and get past, if only he’d let the goons go. But since I’d figured out we were on the fourth floor, making the only exit I knew of the one where they waited, I stepped into the sonic shower, another modern touch, and waited while it cleaned me from head to foot in ten seconds, leaving me sanitized for Ravensworth’s pleasure.
Maybe he’d want a blow job. I had no doubt sometime before his wife returned, he’d arrange to dispose of me somehow, so I might as well bite off his dick now and save myself and others from a fate worse than death. Because mine would be death.
Standing naked in the bathroom, I waited for further instructions, but when none came, I peered out the door. The assistant was gone. Ravensworth stood there instead. He wore a suit nearly as shiny as those of the goons, and was in the process of unbuttoning his pants. “I don’t have all day, little girl,” he said, waving toward the bed. “Bend over the footboard and I’ll be with you shortly.”
Fear froze me in place as he let his pants and boxers drop to his knees.
“Now!” he barked.
I scurried toward the bed and bent at the waist, all my time in the basement suddenly seeming pointless. Why had I put myself through so much discomfort if it was going to have the same end? But then…there’d never really been a choice, had there? He had to keep me stashed until his wife left, anyway.
All I’d done is refuse to let him fuck me.
Wanting my first time to be my choice.
As he jerked my legs wider apart, I swallowed my sobs. And there was absolutely nothing that would stop it.
Nothing.
I waited, tears pouring down my cheeks, listening to the heavy breathing behind me. Fingers prodded at me, and he grunted. “Dry as a desert. You’re a cold fish, but I’ll warm you up. A few stripes on your bottom and some slickener, and I’ll slide in there as easy as a warm knife through butter.” The fingers moved away. “Don’t move.”
I didn’t. What good would it have done? I lay feeling vulnerable and hopeless. In a moment, he would be back to beat me and fuck me. I was still planning to bite his dick off first chance I got, but it didn’t seem that would be before he took what I’d saved for someone special.
That made me madder than anything.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing home?” His voice came from the other room, and I held my breath.
“I forgot my earrings for the dinner party tomorrow night,” a woman’s voice replied. “I’ll just get them and be on my way.”
“Don’t go—”
“I knew it!” This time the woman sounded much closer. “Another one of your little whores. You promised you were done with them.”
Lying naked on my belly, I listened to them fight and call me names. Whore! I was the only virgin whore in history.
“I’m sorry, my dear. I missed you.”
“I’ve only been gone an hour. Really, Ravensworth. What am I going to do with you?”
She didn’t even sound angry… Why not?
“I’ve been a bad boy,” he replied.
“You certainly have.”
They were both breathing hard. This was getting weirder by the moment. “I have to punish you for this, my dear.”
“Of course,” he said in a hoarse tone. “I deserve it.”
I heard kissing! Then, “Before I give you the spanking you’ve earned, what are we going to do with your whore?”
I’m not a whore! But I did have the brains not to say that aloud.
“I don’t suppose we can share her?” he asked hopefully. “We did that last time, and it was quite pleasurable.”
Oh god no.
“I wish we could, and if you had gone about this right, asked permission first, I think that could have been arranged. But you were naughty, so she has to go.”
Were they going to kill me now? My head spun at their games, at being naked and about to be murdered.
“Whatever you say, dear.” His footsteps clicked away then returned, but he was not alone. “Take this woman to the spaceport. She’ll be a last-minute addition to the diplomatic mission leaving later today.”
As one of the goons tossed me over his shoulder, I was still trying to figure out everything that happened.
The assistant waited in the hallway. He gave my ass a slap. “She came back earlier than usual. If there were time, I’d finish up where he left off, but alas, you’re heading for outer space in an hour.”
“So if it’s a game, and she’s in on it, why the six weeks in the basement?”
“Oh they both love watching their victims before the climax. You were the star of the show for all that time.”
“They’re sick.”
He shrugged. “They’re rich and powerful. The rest of us are pawns. Enjoy your diplomatic mission.”
It had to be better than what had almost happened.
Chapter Two
Dylos
I strolled between the tables, inspecting our captives. Squeezing a nipple here, stroking the curve of an ass there, with the casual indifference of a well-fed matron wandering through the stalls at a Naridian meat market.
Other than a faint whimper or two, I got no response.
The females had barely stirred when I ordered my crewman to strip off their clothes so I could inspect them thoroughly before making my choice. I chalked up their stupor to heavy sedation before transport, another poor choice by the gutless worm who sent his females to our solport rather than grant our request for aid and shelter on his planet.
An Arythian warrior would have fought to the death before he ever allowed an alien male to touch one of our women. Their cowardly leader gave us his world’s most precious treasures, to use however we chose. If he really wanted to assure that we stayed away, he should have applied cybellus instead of giving them drugs that put them to sleep. By the time they arrived, they’d have been half-crazed with lust, ready to fuck every warrior on the ship. My crew would have been far too exhausted to plan the invasion he feared.
Mantsk had already chosen one of the captives, as was his due. As captain of the solport, he’d been the ranking officer when they arrived. When he contacted me with the news, I gave the order that he be allowed f
irst choice, to show my respect for his position. After the disaster that had befallen us, it was important for our men to know our chain of command was intact.
As for me, I was here out of duty. Nothing more. These alien females held no appeal for me. Skin in varying shades of beige, hair brown or dull yellow, except for one. Her body had a warm, deep hue, like a mug of Veccan honeymead, and her head was covered in a tangled mass of black curls. I lingered for a moment, running my fingers through the matching curls below. Her eyelids fluttered, but she never woke up.
I turned away, bored. Any physical needs I had these days were satisfied by consorts at the Rapture Dome on Girra Sola. I paid well for their services, and they delivered, complete with wild screams and lavish praise of my sexual prowess. Without any of the demands that came along afterward from a mate.
Especially a mate determined to breed. When I first met her, I thought my Illora was the most beautiful female I’d ever seen. Soft pink skin, hair a cream-colored cloud that fell around her shoulders. I couldn’t get enough of her. We fucked like wild tarazzas, spending every minute we could in bed when I came home from a mission.
But as the moontides turned into sol cycles with no offspring, she became desperate. When I walked in the door, she’d greet me smeared in cybellus, her eyes wild. Our mating was no longer filled with joy at being together again. It became just another duty required of me.
Arythios had no male equivalent of cybellus. No magical potion to stimulate my desire. In our society, males prided themselves on being ready for sex all the time. Even when my fellow warriors and I were alone, getting drunk and sharing our darkest secrets, no one ever confessed that sometimes he wasn’t in the mood. Worry, exhaustion, pain—to hear us brag, nothing ever slowed us down.
I fought back a wave of grief tinged with guilt, concentrating on the rage that simmered inside me night and day. I was free of my duties as a mate. Illora was gone. Gone, along with everyone else I cared about. My parents, my younger sister. All the children, the elderly, our ruling class—every inhabitant of my planet was dead. Only myself and a handful of other warriors remained. Occupants of starships out on maneuvers when an unknown enemy attacked.
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