by Joe Vasicek
Let him have his way, honey, just don’t give in to him at first. She smiled in a way that she hoped he’d find seductive and carefully maneuvered his hands away from her. “Later,” she said, unclasping the outer layer of her dress and slipping out of it. She wore nothing but a short underskirt beneath it, but at least that was something.
Qasar chuckled. “Then come,” he said. “Let us eat.”
They climbed onto the bed and lay facing each other in the center, the tray of delicious food hovering directly between them. Stella tried not to stare, but Qasar’s eyes never left her. From the expression on his face, she could tell he was undressing her in his mind. Even so, the plate of sweetmeats, combined with her own ravished hunger, soon distracted her.
“Is that—real food?” she asked, eying the platter.
Qasar cocked his head at her, then threw back his head and roared with laughter.
“Real food?” he said. “Of course! Do you think I am so poor that I starve?”
Stella smiled uneasily, unsure of what to say or do. Poor or not, nearly all of her meals on his ship had been synthetic.
“But if you will not believe—come! Eat!” He picked up a piece of meat from the platter and held it out to her. Stella’s stomach growled as she reached forward, but he withdrew the food before she could take it.
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head and grinning at her. “Your fingers should not get sticky, my dear.” He held the morsel out again, as if to hand-feed her. “Eat!”
Something about the way he insisted on hand-feeding her seemed deeply sensual, and more than a little disturbing. Stella hesitated, but the thick, mouth-watering aroma of the sweetmeats soon won her over. Leaning forward, she opened her mouth and let him place the food between her teeth.
It was meat—honest to goodness, animal-grown meat—springy and fleshy and cooked to perfection. Without a doubt, it was the most delicious food she’d eaten since her capture. She closed her eyes and chewed it slowly, savoring the juices as they stimulated her tastebuds. For the long, wonderful moment before she swallowed, she was in heaven.
Qasar’s eyes did not leave her as she chewed.
“Well,” he said, “do you like it?”
“Stars, yes,” Stella answered. She leaned forward and reached eagerly for more.
“No, no, my dear,” said Qasar, chuckling as he pulled the platter away. “Your fingers must not be soiled.”
Stella’s heart fell. This is degrading, she realized. Still, food was food, and she was desperately hungry.
“That’s right,” said Qasar as she leaned forward and opened her mouth. “Have another.” He placed another of the tender morsels between her teeth. It seemed almost to melt in her mouth, it was so delicious.
They ate together this way until the platter was half empty and Stella’s once-empty stomach was completely full. By the end, she found herself lying down with her head in Qasar’s lap. How that had happened, she didn’t quite know—but strangely, it didn’t feel as bad as she’d feared. His clean hand ran through her hair and caressed her neck.
“No more,” she whispered, patting her stomach. “That’s—that’s enough.”
Qasar nodded and stopped caressing her neck long enough to wash both hands on a washcloth and push the platters away. From her vantage point in his lap, she watched as he shed his robe, baring his muscular upper body.
Immediately, Stella’s body tensed.
Without a word, he ran his fingers through her hair, stroking downward across her neck and shoulders. Where his touch met stiffness, he squeezed gently and massaged her until she grew limp and relaxed.
Her heart raced as he shifted her off his lap so that she lay beneath him. He scooted down until his eyes were level with hers; in them, she saw a frighteningly potent hunger, as if he were ready to devour her. His hands migrated behind her neck, where he undid the clasp holding her top in place.
I shouldn’t be letting him do this, she thought to herself as he pulled the straps down off her shoulders and arms. His fingers stroked her skin, starting at her shoulders and moving steadily toward her breasts.
“Stop,” she whispered, stiffening once again. “Please, stop.”
To her dismay, he laughed.
“Are you frightened, my shy goddess?” he asked, pulling off the top half of her bedlah gown.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Please—stop this.”
He slipped a hand inside her underskirt. “It is good to be feared,” he said, “but it is better to be obeyed. Kiss me.”
Before she could answer, he pressed his body against hers. She drew in a sharp breath as her blood turned to ice. All of her muscles instantly tensed, and she pushed against him with all her might.
“Stop,” she said, struggling to get out from underneath him. “Just—stop!”
The smile on his face turned to a snarl, and he took her by the wrists and pinned her down.
Stella struggled against his grip, but couldn’t break free. Her panic grew, and she started to thrash about with her legs. In one smooth, controlled movement, he released her left wrist and struck her across the cheek with the back of his hand, sending her reeling.
She opened her mouth and screamed.
Her outcry caught in her throat as he struck her again, this time with his fist. Tears of pain flooded her eyes even as Qasar reached down and tore the underskirt clean off of her. At the terrible noise of ripping fabric, panic filled her. This was it—now, he would rape her.
“Stop!” she screamed. Once again, a hard blow landed against her cheek, but a surge of adrenaline gave her the strength to wriggle out from underneath him.
“Foolish woman,” he muttered. “Don’t you know your captain when you see him? Your life belongs to me now.”
Stella scrambled to the other edge of the bed and wrapped the tangled sheets around her naked body. “I’m sorry,” she cried, “I’m just—I’m not ready!”
“I’ll decide when you’re ready!”
He glared at her, as if by the force of his will he could make her submit to him. Instead, she felt doubly frightened.
“What more could I have done for you?” he shouted with rage. “I fed you, clothed you, gave you a home, gave you servants to take care of your every need—what gives you the impudence to turn on me now?”
You invaded my home and took me from my family, Stella wanted to scream. Ben, James, Father, Mother—what did you do to them? The thought made tears well up in her eyes. She rubbed her still-throbbing cheek and started to break down.
“I’m sorry,” she stuttered in between sobs, “it’s just—just that I—I’ve never done this before—and I—”
“Never done what before?” Qasar asked, frowning inquisitively.
“I’ve never done—never slept with a man.”
His eyes narrowed, and he moved closer to her. “Are you telling me that you’re a virgin?”
She took a shaky breath and slowly regained some control. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, that’s it.”
Qasar gave her a hard, penetrating stare. “Don’t lie to me, woman. Why should I believe you?”
Stella cringed with fear. “I—I don’t know,” she said. “But it’s true—I swear!”
“Why didn’t you tell me this from the beginning?”
“You—you never asked.”
“Of course not. What, you expect me to ask every planetborn whore whether she has already defiled herself?”
The contemptuous way he pronounced ‘planetborn’ suggested it was a derogatory term—though Stella didn’t know why, because it didn’t make any sense.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “What’s ‘planetborn’?”
He scoffed. “What do you think it means? You should know—you are one.”
“If it means I was born on a planet,” she said without thinking, “that’s not true.”
She cringed, expecting him to lash out in some way for being contrary. Instead, his eyes widened with surprise.
“Yo
u are not planetborn?” he asked.
“N-no,” Stella said, not sure why he’d stopped.
“Then who are you? Where are you from?”
She took a deep breath. “I was born into a merchanter family. We’re from the Colony—that is, one of the stations at the fifth Lagrange point of Kardunash 3.”
“Truly?” said Qasar, his voice completely changed. “So you are not from one of the planets in this system?”
“No,” said Stella. “I wasn’t born on any of Karduna’s worlds; I was born on a space station in a trailing orbit behind the third planet. That’s my home.”
Qasar stroked his goatee with fascination. “Tell me more.”
What does he want to know? Stella wondered. And why?
“My—my home is the Colony, an old mining operation in Kardunash III’s Trojan asteroids. My family mostly transports processed durasteel from home to the ports at Kardunash IV and Kardunash VII.”
“Not planetborn, then,” Qasar muttered, mostly to himself. “But not shipborn either.”
Stella frowned. Shipborn, planetborn—she didn’t know what to make of it.
“I wasn’t born on a ship,” she said, “but I am—I was—training to be an astrogator. I’ve been on half a dozen voyages to other star systems—piloted two of them.”
Qasar nodded at her with respect. Considering how he’d beaten her and ripped off her clothes only moments before, the gesture left her shocked and confused.
“I apologize,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “Please forgive me; I thought you were planetborn.”
Why should that matter? Stella wondered. She didn’t dare interrupt him, however.
“If I had known who you were,” he continued, “I would not have … behaved so badly. Since my cousin picked you from the spoils of our conquest, I assumed you were one of them.”
No mention of stripping the prisoners and processing them like cattle. No mention of killing those who resisted—or the senseless massacre of those deemed unfit to live.
“Please, forgive me.”
Stella wasn’t sure what to think or do. With her throbbing jaw and clothes strewn all about the room, the entire discussion felt too surreal. Sensing her discomfort, Qasar put on his robe again and passed the bedlah top and coin dress back to her.
“Thank you,” she said, taking them gratefully. She turned her back and slipped them on—without the underskirt, the coins felt hard against her skin, but at least it was better than nothing.
“You are not like my other concubines,” Qasar stated, “and therefore, you should not be required to do the things that they do. It is not your place.”
Stella frowned. “So—”
“So if you do not wish to lie with me tonight, that is your choice. I will not force you, though I do hope you will keep me company—as my guest.”
Stella hesitated. The bruise on her jaw throbbed with pain—Qasar hadn’t apologized for that, nor did he seem about to.
“Yes, I-I’ll stay,” she said, too afraid to refuse.
“Good,” said Qasar, as if the answer had never been in any doubt.
* * * * *
“You told him what?”
Stella bit her lip and stared at the blue tile floor of the bathing room as Narju brushed her hair. Tamu sat on a stool across from her, an incredulous expression on her face.
“I told him I was a virgin,” Stella said softly.
Tamu shook her head. “Bad move, honey,” she said, clucking her tongue. “That wasn’t smart.”
“But what was I supposed to do?” Stella asked. “He was going to rape me!”
“Whether or not it’s rape is up to you, dear.”
Stella’s eyes widened in shock at Tamu’s comment, and her cheeks burned red with anger. “Oh, really?” she said, her voice low and sharp. “Then I suppose it isn’t murder if—”
“Calm down, dear, calm down. No need to shout.”
Stella took a deep breath and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to scream. Behind her, Narju finished with her hair and rose to his feet, pulling the small stool aside with a wooden scraping noise.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” said Tamu. “Tell me everything.”
Stella took a moment to calm down and gather her jumbled thoughts. Off to the side, Narju opened a locker and began pulling out different clothes, laying them across the cushioned bench for Stella to peruse.
“I followed Engus to the bedchamber,” she said, rising to her feet with the bath towel wrapped tightly around her body. Tamu followed her. “Qasar was waiting for me on the bed. He came over to me, and we talked for a while—”
“You can understand him?” Tamu asked. “You mean, you actually spoke with him?”
“Well, yeah,” said Stella. “Can’t you?”
“No, sweetie. I’ve picked up a little here and there, but not enough to carry much of a conversation.”
“Then how do you even communicate with him?”
Tamu laughed. “Oh, we don’t talk much, dear. When he calls for me, he’s only looking for one thing, and it certainly isn’t conversation.” She winked and nudged Stella with her elbow.
Stella shuddered. For several moments, she didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t stop there, honey,” said Tamu. “Go on, go on.”
“Well, uh, he asked me if I was hungry. I said yes, and he pulled out a tray full of roasted meat. We ate until we were full, and then, ah—”
“And then what?” Tamu asked, hanging on Stella’s every word.
“He, uh, that is, we—we started to …” Stella’s cheeks flushed deep red from embarrassment as her voice trailed off. Tamu’s eyes glistened while Narju waited patiently for Stella to pick out her dress.
“It all happened so fast,” Stella said quickly. “He started to undress me, and then his hands were all over my body, and I just couldn’t take it.”
She picked out a modest skirt and blouse. Narju wordlessly replaced the other clothes in the locker. While his back was turned, Stella unwrapped the bath towel from her body and quickly slipped into her chemise.
“So you resisted,” said Tamu. “That’s when he slapped you, isn’t it, dear?”
Punched me, Stella thought as she stepped into the skirt. He punched me.
“Yes,” she said, pulling the skirt up around her waist. “He said I didn’t have a choice in the matter. That’s when I told him I was a virgin.”
“And what happened next?”
Stella slipped the blouse over her head and poked her arms through, pulling it down over her stomach. “He stopped,” she said. “For the rest of the evening, he was a perfect gentleman.”
Tamu frowned. “Is that all, dear?”
“Well, no,” Stella admitted.
“Out with it.”
Stella swallowed. “He asked me about my home,” she said, “and when I told him I wasn’t planetborn, he—”
“Aiie!” screamed Tamu, her voice filling the small room. Stella and Narju both jumped at the sudden outburst. “You told him what?”
“I told him about my home,” Stella said. “That I was born on a space station and was training to be an astrogator. He made a big deal about the fact that I wasn’t ‘planetborn,’ but—”
“He didn’t just make a big deal honey,” Tamu said. “Out here, it really is a big deal.”
“Why?”
“Because the Hameji think that the planetborn are soft and weak. That’s why they choose all their concubines from their prisoners, honey—because they don’t think we have any honor.”
“So what’s the problem?” Stella asked. “At least he respects me now.” Not to mention that he no longer treats me like some kind of sex toy.
“That’s just it, honey,” said Tamu. “You’re spaceborn, a virgin, and fluent in Hameji. There’s no way he can keep you as a concubine—if anything, you’re wife material now.”
Stella frowned. “Wife material?”
“Uh-huh. Wife material.”
“But—but isn’t Qasar already married?”
“To four ruthless women, dear, any one of whom can make your life a living hell.”
At that moment, the bead curtain parted and Engus stepped through. Tamu instantly fell silent.
“Mistress Sholpan,” said Engus, staring directly at Stella with his beady eyes. “You have summons. Level two, Lady Borta’s chambers. I show you when done.”
He stepped briskly out of the room, making the beads clatter in his wake.
“Oh no,” Tamu muttered. “You’re in trouble, dear. Big trouble.”
“Trouble?” Stella asked, her voice stammering. “How?”
“Borta is Qasar’s head wife, dearest. She’s the worst of all of them.”
Chapter 4
“So you are the one they call ‘Sholpan.’”
The remark was more of a stated observation than a question. The middle-aged woman who spoke stood with her arms crossed over her chest. From her long, green dress and the obstinate scowl, Stella recognized her at once as the woman she’d bumped into in the hallway on her first day.
“Yes,” said Stella. “And you are—”
“Lady Borta,” the woman snapped.
“Ah.”
Borta’s private apartment stretched almost twenty meters from end to end—an unthinkably huge room for an interstellar spaceship. Compared to the concubines’ quarters, it felt like a cathedral. Glass mosaics of green vines and rich fruit lined the walls and floorboards, while to the left, a small fountain, surrounded by a cascading hydroponic garden, filled the room with the soft sound of trickling water. That must be why the air smells so clean in here, Stella realized. Other furnishings included a computer terminal, a series of food processors, and several couches. A normal door—not a bead curtain—separated the front room from the private quarters.
Lady Borta rose magnanimously from her seat on the nearest couch and circled Stella. “Not bad for one of Qasar’s playthings,” she muttered.
Stella winced. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I never meant to come between you and your husband. If—”
“What? Come between me and Qasar?”
