by Rayann Marse
Slych, his challenger, and a half dozen others came down the hallway now. They stopped by the cell where the women stood and watched and trembled. One of the males bent low and sprayed something on the floor. He moved in a circle, leaving a trail of white. A ring, nine or ten feet across.
They were going to fight right here. Right now.
Sybil reached through the bars and clutched Tina's hand tight.
"It'll be fine," Sybil said. "Whatever happens, you won't be hurt. I'm sure of it."
But Tina wasn't. She had just begun to see Slych as a gentle individual, a reasonable creature who understood and respected that she herself was a being with her own wills, whims, and wishes. Perhaps, he would gladly subvert those wishes to serve his own passions, but not without realizing that he was doing so. And not without making sure she was as comfortable as possible.
Looking at Slych's opponent, she got the opposite impression. He was taller, beefier, even more heavily scarred. He had been in his fair share of challenges as well, and probably won all of them. He looked like an utter brute, devoid of any softness or sentimentality. If he won, Tina had a good feeling he wouldn't wait for her to be ready the way Slych did.
She got to her feet, broke free of Sybil, and ran to the other wall.
"Slych!" she called, reaching her hand through.
One of the other males raised a blade as though to cleave her hand off. Slych gave him a kick in the gut, making him double over gasping. Slych then locked eyes with Tina. There was confidence there. Confidence and a manly sort of glint she had seen too few times before; it signified lust and ownership. He would not let her down. He probably wasn't even considering the possibility of failure.
It seemed there was honor among these creatures, after a fashion. Even the one who had been kicked now behaved in a fitting manner, stepping away from the circle, ready to catch whoever came out of it and push them back in.
Tina didn't want to think about what would happen if one of the fighters spent too long outside the circle. Maybe they would be killed immediately by one of the observers. Or else they would simply lose and be forced to live on as a failure. Perhaps that would be worse than death.
The two combatants stood facing each other on opposite sides of the circle. One of the observers barked a command. There was no translator nearby, but the meaning of the command came clear when the combatants simultaneously unsheathed their weapons. Their stances were identical. There was clearly a specific fighting style in use here, with its own rules and prohibitions.
After another command, the fighters suddenly rushed at each other.
Their blades met in an explosion of sparks and noise. The combatants became something of a blur, twirling and swinging, feinting and dodging and parrying with speed too great to follow. With the ease of practice and experience, they navigated the first several minutes of the fight as though it were all a matter of course.
Finally, blood was drawn. Slych's blade nicked the opponent, drawing a thin line of blood from the slabs of muscle over his ribs. The other male seemed not to feel the injury at all. They kept fighting, but slightly slower now. Every now and then they would break apart and back up to opposite sides of the circle. They were thinking, strategizing, figuring out the style of the opponent.
And then they would come together again in a flurry. By the time they backed away once more, both of them would be bleeding from several fresh wounds. But no serious blows were landed.
Until, after ten minutes of fighting, Slych suddenly grunted and stumbled backward. His shoulder had been cut deeply and dripped blood to the floor. His opponent used this moment to his advantage, pressing continuously forward. Slych did a fine job of blocking the swings, but was slowly backed toward the edge of the circle. The observers stood around with their arms folded, perfectly impartial.
"Slych!" Tina cried again.
The concubine grabbed her by the back of her towel and yanked her away from the bars. She hissed a warning, untranslatable but clear.
Tina fell to the floor, watching the fight through her fingers.
An overhead swing nearly cleaved Slych's head in two. He dodged sideways, and the blade shaved another chunk of flesh off his shoulder. He growled in pain, hit the floor, and rolled back to his feet. The blade of the attacker was lancing toward his chest, and he barely managed to turn the blade aside.
The tide of the fight had turned in the enemy's favor. Slych was on the defensive; he was being worn down, tired out, cleansed of his former confidence with each near death experience. Tina saw no way that he could win.
By now the concubine, wife, or whatever she was, wept openly with her face pressed into the corner of the cell. If this creature was so upset, with her native knowledge of the combat and the nature of Slych's opponent, Tina had every reason to be terrified.
She watched the fight. She couldn't take her eyes away if she wanted to. It was like staring straight into the lights of a freight train that is seconds away from running her over.
Slych was on the ground. The blade of the enemy rushed toward his heart. He stared upward, teeth bared. It seemed for a moment that he was watching his fate approach just as Tina was doing. That he had resigned himself.
But at the last moment, he rolled away, using his powerful muscles like a full-body spring to launch himself to his feet. It happened so quickly that the enemy was still stabbing downward, still bellowing his victory roar. The blade tip sparked off the floor, making a terrible squeal.
Slych's opponent had a bare second to recover. He lifted his blade, started to turn, and suddenly his head was separated from his neck. It fell to the floor and tumbled out of the circle, trailing blood. The rest of his body stood straight up for a moment, as though trying to figure out whether or not it was dead. And then it fell, too, crumpling awkwardly as only lifeless things can.
Slych said nothing. He didn't cheer or roar in triumph. He merely sheathed his blade, walked out of the circle, and disappeared down the hall. The observers were left to clean up the mess.
Tina stared in disbelief. She had never seen such violence before. Nor had she ever expected to feel so relieved in the wake of it.
A short time later, the cell was opened. A male escorted Tina and the concubine to a room where Slych lay in recovery, his wounds cleaned, cauterized and bandaged. He was sound asleep, with his bloodstained right arm dangling to the floor. The concubine grabbed his hand and kissed it, mumbling some form of prayer or thanks.
Tina wandered off through the ship. No one stopped her.
Chapter Six
She saw nothing of Slych through his days of recovery. She was not quite allowed free range on the ship, but most rooms and corridors were open to her. No one spoke to her, or asked her what she was doing. But if they had, she would have told them she was searching for the women she came there with.
Finally, she visited the jail corridor where the fight had taken place. The ring was gone, as were the blood stains. There was a small gouge in the floor where the dead male's blade had struck, but no other sign that death had occurred here.
Sybil's former cell was empty. There was no note or anything to tell Tina where she had gone.
***
Three days after the fight, Tina finally got up the courage to return to the ship. It was like visiting a childhood home, full of warm but strangely sad memories. Tinged and tainted by the knowledge that some things, once gone, were gone forever.
The sad feeling was abated when she saw Sybil on the bridge with three women gathered around her. But they were not Aurora, Kozue, and Stella. They were tall and purple, wearing basic robes of reddish brown material. Tide stood before them all, acting as an intermediary.
When Tina appeared, Sybil broke away from the group and ran over. They hugged fiercely, and Tina held back tears.
"You're safe," said Sybil. "Thank God for that."
"How did you get here?" asked Tina. "How did you..."
"Get out of jail? They just came and let me out aft
er a while. I suppose they figured I had learned my lesson." Sybil turned, gesturing at the alien women. "I've managed to make a few friends. Somehow. Right now, Tide and I are learning the language. And then we can really start to communicate."
Tina almost asked what the ultimate goal was. But she was afraid to know. It seemed better to maintain her current innocence. "Us women have to stick together," she said, instead.
Sybil grinned. "Right. This is clearly a patriarchal society. A sort of barbaric one, given what we've seen. But even in such cultures, a woman can hold surprising influence. There are always strings to be pulled and male minds and bodies to win over."
Sybil must have seen the look on the other woman's face. She cut herself off.
"Anyway," said the translator. "How have you been?"
"Fine. I've just been kind of... wandering. Waiting for Slych to get better. Then I guess... well, he'll find something for me to do."
Sybil nodded. "They fought over you. Now you belong to Slych. At least, that's what he thinks. It's best to keep him thinking that way. But don't forget why you're really here."
"I won't," said Tina.
Sybil clapped her on the arm. "Good. We need to install ourselves at all levels of this society. The next step, I think, is to make contact with the others. As long as they keep letting us wander, we can use this ship to meet up on a regular basis."
"You haven't heard anything from them?" asked Tina.
"Not yet. But it's a large ship; they're probably embroiled in their own struggles. Or orgies, in Aurora's case. Sometimes, I worry about that girl the most." Sybil shook her head, dispelling a bad thought. "Maybe you can try and get Slych to tell you something."
Tina thought back to the time she got him to tell her his name — and then he masturbated in front of her. "I think he can be malleable."
"Good. Like it or not, seduction is the best weapon at our disposal. At least in times such as these. Use it. As Aurora said, wrap him tight."
Sybil held up her little finger. Tina mimicked the gesture. They locked their fingers together in a mini wrestling match and broke into a fit of giggling.
"We're in trouble, aren't we?" Tina asked, wiping away a tear.
"That's up to each of us to decide," Sybil replied. "Go, now. See how things are going inside."
***
The ship was, as Sybil said, very large. Tina got lost more than once, trying to find her way back to the room where Slych was recovering. She did find it after an hour or so. But it was empty, and she wasn't at first sure it was the right place.
Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned to see Slych's concubine towering over her.
The woman said something and then beckoned, walking along the hall.
Tina followed. Unlike the males, the woman slowed down to make sure Tina could keep up. Eventually, they reached a mess hall of sorts, where a hundred or more males dined.
Everywhere Tina looked, she saw shouting matches, bare knuckle brawls, and bouts of some game that combined arm wrestling with seemingly random slaps to the face. Those engaged in this last activity seemed to be enjoying themselves. In fact, all of them did; even the fistfights were a form of casual fun around here, it seemed.
Slych was easy to pick out of the crowd due to his scars, bandages, and comparatively passive nature. He dined alone, quietly taking bites of some kind of stew. At least Tina thought he was alone, until she came close and saw the female servicing him orally under the table. Tina learned later that this female had formerly belonged to the male Slych had fought.
The concubine pushed Tina down on the bench beside Slych and then sat beside her. Sandwiched between the two giants at a table that was far too high for her, Tina had a perfect view of the female who slurped and sucked at Slych's massive cock.
As she watched, open mouthed, a spoon suddenly appeared and bumped into her lips. It was Slych, spoon feeding her. He let her take a bite as he held the spoon, then lifted her hand and inserted the spoon into it. She realized that several minutes had passed as she watched the alien blowjob. A tray of food had been brought to her.
Tina had always considered herself open minded. She had rarely found a food she didn't like, and this alien stew was no exception. She could identify none of the ingredients, but they all agreed wholeheartedly with her taste buds. There was meat in it, and she tried not to imagine what kind of strange animal it came from. Thankfully, it was more like beef than pork, but who knows with this alien race, it might have been from the male Slych had killed.
As she ate, Slych rested a hand on her thigh. Or rather on both of her thighs; his hand was large enough to span both of them. She looked up at him, chewing her stew.
"Ready?" he asked.
It took a second for Tina to realize he hadn't used a translator. She swallowed too fast, choking. Slych fed her water from his cup and patted her back.
"You've learned my language?" she asked.
Slych listened, furrowing his brow, then held a translator up to his ear. He smiled. "Small," he said. "Little."
Tina nodded. "It's a start. Maybe you can teach me your language, too."
"Ready?"
"Sure. We can start after we eat."
He grabbed her hand and started pulling it to his crotch. She pulled back, and he released her.
"No!" she said. "Not yet, I mean. I thought you were asking if I was ready to learn your language."
He nodded in understanding. "When ready?"
"I don't know. I just want to eat right now, if that's fine."
He listened, nodded, and went back to his own food.
Tina wondered how it was possible to feel affection and terror for the same individual. Maybe Sybil would have the answer.
Under the table, the other female's mouth was suddenly filled with semen. It spilled out, streaming onto her breasts, but she did her best to swallow all of it. Her throat moved up and down and the veins and tendons on her neck bulged as she fought the urge to breathe. The sight of it made Tina feel very strange, tingly even. Later, when she ran a finger up the slit of her pussy and it came away wet and sticky, she realized what the feeling was. A depraved, perverted arousal. And a bit of jealousy.
Chapter Seven
Over the next week or so, Tina maintained a routine. She would wake in her room, the analog of her quarters on her home ship, and Slych's woman would join her for breakfast. Then she would wash herself and read for a bit, waiting for Slych to arrive. He would set her in his lap, and they would learn together, talking back and forth, letting the translator teach them. And Tina would not quite ignore — but make no effort to entice — the bulge beneath her.
One day, Slych came in completely naked. The tip of his heavy member was moist, as though he was freshly aroused or else had recently been serviced by one of his women. He sat Tina on his lap as usual, talked to her in the same tone, and seemed to have nothing on his mind other than the act of learning.
But Tina was unfocused. As per Slych's implied wishes, she remained nude at all times while in this room. And so she felt him fully, for the first time. The heat that rose from him, his firm but surprisingly soft flesh. The gentle pulsing of his heartbeat, which quickened slightly when she shifted her position, sliding over him.
Slych kept speaking and letting the translator work. He told a story of some fight in the distant past. His first challenge ever, and how he had won his first female. Meanwhile, his manhood continued to fill with blood and engorge, pressing into Tina.
She had thought about Slych all night. She had woken from a dream of him and found that she was touching herself. And so when his arousal-moistened manhood rose to the space between her legs, it met an equally aroused womanhood.
As soon as Slych realized this, he grunted in pleasure. His cock jumped from a sudden infusion of arousal, going fully erect. It struck Tina's wet pussy from below, causing an audible slap. Tina shuddered so violently that a moan was forced from her mouth.
Slych tossed the translator away. He leaned o
ver her, breathing into her hair.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready," said Tina.
He stood up, lifting her by the arms and carrying her to the bed. She fully expected to be tossed down and brutally ravaged, but he took a more gentle approach. He lay her on her back and studied her body with his hands, touching every inch of her, swirling his fingers around the areas that brought a response from her; a whimper, a moan, a shiver.
Tina didn't think he knew what a kiss was, but she planted one on his hand when it passed over her face. He followed her lead, giving her kisses of his own. Tasting her. It was entirely erotic, and the end result was inevitable. She became a quivering mess, her nipples erect and her pussy pulsing.
She gasped when his fingers found her clit. The response goaded him on. He slid a finger up and down her slit, getting it covered in her juices before sliding it straight inside her.
Tina moaned, instinctively lifting her legs and spreading them wide to give him better access. His finger was so large, it felt just like the cock of an ordinary man.
He fucked her with his finger, slowly at first but increasing in speed and then he slid a second finger into her. She cried out in pleasure at the delicious feeling of being stretched and filled. But Slych did all of this with the same casual air, as though he were reading or eating. He was, Tina realized, simply getting her ready for the main event.
She didn't think she could get any more ready than she was now. In the past, she had had trouble reaching orgasm. But she had already come twice on Slych's fingers. With all his strength, he had fucked her through the pulsing waves of her ecstasy.
"Slych," she finally said, her voice shaking. "Please..."
Even if he didn't know the word please yet, he still seemed to understand her meaning. He pulled his fingers out of her, stood up straight, and pulled her to the edge of the bed. His heavy ccok plopped down onto her belly. His balls rested against her opening. She could see now how far he might go inside her. Horribly, unbelievably, beautifully far. She was ready to be torn apart, if need be. Anything for him.
