by Cain, Corin
That’s why the vote was over ninety-percent ‘yes’ in support of the council’s proposition. I wonder if the noblemen would have voted the same way if it was their own daughters who’d be up on what amounts to the slaver’s block. It disgusts me - the instant the Territus sector voted themselves free of the rule of the Aurelian Empire – which forbids slavery – the leaders of my own planet have started selling off women to pay their debt.
I shudder, imagining the lives of the women who’ll soon be given – nay, sold – to that Aurelian triad. I know what happens in the harems on Colossus, and other Aurelian worlds – but at least no woman volunteers to join those harems without knowing exactly how dominant Aurelians can be, especially in their mating frenzies.
That’s why the idea never appealed to me. Sure, the life of indolent luxury sounds appealing – but only if you’re also willing to embrace having your ass turned red, and being reduced to a whimpering, shuddering sex object by a dominant, chauvinistic alien. No thanks!
And yet, even as I think that, a tinge of heat grows between my legs, and I feel the dark shame that has been ever-present since I encountered those three towering Aurelians.
Who am I kidding? It was present before then – ever since I first learned of the nature of Aurelian warriors as a teenage girl.
My cheeks burn. I wish I was attracted to men like Lord Kendrick Dulloth…
Well, perhaps not him specifically, as that coward ran away at the first sign of danger, leaving me to die…
But I wish I was attracted to men of my own species. Human men.
And yet it’s only the huge, marble bodies of Aurelians that can make me feel so… So small and helpless. Vulnerable and innocent. It’s only those powerful, masculine aliens who have the power to make me tremble, and it’s they who constantly invade my dreams at night...
You would feel so helpless if you were at their mercy… So vulnerable. So pathetic. Unable to escape, and yet not sure if you’d want to even if you could…
My nipples harden and I force these dark, shameful thoughts out of my mind. I hate that I crave these aliens as much as I hate them – especially since seeing that triad of warriors right in front of me… Feeling the touch of that long-haired Aurelian’s hand on my face...
I shudder. If I was a poor, common women… Deep in my mind, I know I might have succumbed to temptation and joined an Aurelian harem, despite how much I hate the idea of being another slut among a vast array of women – all of whose lives are devoted to servitude.
“The Aurelians won’t stay long,” my father scoffs, snapping me from my thoughts. “They must have gone rogue, for whatever foolish reason. They’ll be hounded by Law Enforcement – constantly on the run. Imagine that – throwing everything away, and for what? To get a few women in return? There are women all over the universe!” My father shakes his head. He has no interest in women. After my mother died, I never saw him take another woman. All he cares about now is food and money.
But, for the first time, I actually agree with him. It doesn’t make sense.
Why would heartless, cruel Aurelians – rogues from the Empire, willing to break their most cardinal rule and take slaves – throw away their lives to save us? It makes no sense!
“I’m surprised you offered them anything, with that logic.”
My father snorts. “Shrewd, my dear. Very shrewd. I’ve taught you well. You’re right – we could have offered the three of them nothing and just watched them leave before Aurelian Law Enforcement could hound them down. But you saw their violence first hand. They cleared out an entire city of Scorp. There’s no reason for us to risk them turning violent against us… This was a tactical decision - an appeasement.”
Everything is tactical to the nobles of Tear, and everything is about money. It’s as if the women they’re condemning to servitude are just objects, not even people. It’s as if the nobles don’t recognize that they have feelings, or hopes and dreams of their own.
“You’ll wear violet to the… proceedings tonight,” orders my father, referring to the selling of slaves as ‘proceedings’ as if it’s as perfectly normal as a cattle market or estate auction; a regular, day-to-day matter of business rather than the transaction of human lives.
But there’s another reason why his demand so infuriates me:
“You want me to wear the colors of House Dulloth?” I fume. “After their son, Kendrick Dulloth, left Jenna and I to die? Running away like the base coward he is?”
The slap burns my cheek. I gasp. It’s the third time my father has ever hit me, in all my life, and tears come to my eyes at the humiliation of it.
“You will watch your tongue, young lady! Kendrick did what he needed to do – a noble doesn’t risk his life for a low-noble. If he’d stayed? Then he’d have been unworthy of you! Would you want a man who’s too weak to know the correct decision? Would you want a man who sacrifices his noble blood for those of a lesser rank?”
My father’s words are rehearsed – as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as me. When he speaks next, though, it’s with an edge to his voice, and the hint of that common accent he and I had to attend voice coaches to shed ourselves of.
“If you don’t fuck this up,” my father warns, suddenly the hard-nosed commoner again, “you could be wedded into his family – and then taste the real prestige of nobility.”
Almost as soon as that glimpse of my real father vanishes, his accent becomes more polished again, and he growls:
“Think of it, Lezena! We could become so much greater than we are already!” His eyes widen at the thought of the additional prestige and power he imagines himself to be worthy of.
I find it disgusting. My father is trying to argue that cowardice is noble – that selling slaves is moral. I’d been raised to think that the Aurelians were the degenerate sophisticates, but it’s becoming clear to me now that it’s the nobles of Tear who have blinded themselves to right and wrong.
Those three Aurelians faced great danger for the sake of humans they didn’t even know. They sacrificed everything to protect us – turning their back on their Empire and their duty.
Maybe that’s true nobility.
But maybe true nobility resides in not being ‘noble’ at all. Perhaps my father was right: Perhaps Kendrick made the correct strategic choice, and that’s the mark of so-called ‘nobility.’
I bite my tongue to stop myself from retorting. Despite his cowardice, Kendrick still has some redeeming features. His house was one of the few who voted against the resolution to reward the Aurelians with women – and his face was white with rage throughout the proceedings.
Maybe even a coward knows right and wrong better than my own father.
Our ship touches down gently on the pad of my family’s estate, and I climb out without another word – after my father, of course; who once told me once never to walk ahead of him in public.
The skin of my cheek still burns from the impact of his palm. I defer to my father like any good daughter should – but right now, I also hate him.
“We’ll put some concealer on it, and it’ll look as good as new,” says Jenna, examining my reddened cheek. She’s trying to console me, but it does little good.
“Is it that bad?”
“No! It’s fine,” she lies. “Lezena, truly, it’s fine.”
I smile at her gentle mistruth. I prefer that Jenna call me by my first name, despite how most noblewomen insist on having their servants use their title. I’m painfully aware that it was mere luck that elevated me to the rank of noblewoman, and poor fortune that Jenna is the servant. In many ways, she’s the more noble of the two of us – and I know that even if our places were reversed, she’d treat me just as well as I try to treat her.
I allow Jenna to touch up my reddened cheek, and she’s true to her word, as always. Jenna is a wizard with a make-up brush, and the stinging red palm-print disappears beneath her ministrations. There’ll be a bruise tomorrow – but Jenna is already calculating which c
olors of powder and paste to mix and blend in order to hide the purple-brown.
“Thank you so much,” I say, feeling relieved as I examine myself in the mirror. If I’m to go out in public today, I don’t want my face to match the violet of the dress my father is forcing me to wear.
I step out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. Another servant has already brought my dress, and I groan out loud as I see it.
The dress is a little too sheer for good taste. My father lacks in subtlety, and I can see his intentions by choosing a gown with a slit cut high up the leg. He wants me to draw the eye of Lord Kendrick Dulloth; but in this dress it’s as subtle as trying to draw the eye of a street mongrel by waving a porkchop at it.
Jenna picks the dress up, looking at it as skeptically as I do. She purses her lips. “You can’t wear this.”
I shrug. “What can I do? If I refuse, my father will just send his guards to force it on me; and if the dress rips in the process, he’ll just hit me again.”
Jenna shakes her head. “Lezena… Think about where we’re going tonight.”
A cold chill grabs me. Tonight, we’re going to watch as poor, innocent women are sold to a trio of brutal, alien warriors – all to pay a debt we didn’t even ask for.
Those three, rogue Aurelians – who’ve thrown off the constraints of their Empire just so they can have their pick of beautiful, fertile young women... Whether the women want them or not.
I mean, that’s the only explanation for those Aurelians going rogue, right?
I shudder.
What if they see me?
My body trembles as I remember the long, black hair of the Aurelian who so gently touched me. I’d never seen an Aurelian with such flowing locks before, even in pictures. It gave him the appearance of a savage beast – his ivory skin contrasting so sharply with the ebony blackness of his hair.
I raise my chin and straighten my spine, remembering my training. I still feel like such an outsider in this world of nobles. I grew up in a technically wealthy family, but before our ocean mines hit those deposits of Liquidium, my father had been forced to constantly put his accounts into overdraft to fund his mining ventures.
We lived in a small, modest house – and there was a constant aura of stress around the dinner table, as we all wondered if father would stomp back home despondent at that day’s disappoints, or delirious with the promise of the next day’s riches. He’d always known one day he’d strike it rich; but it was a hard journey for all of us to reach that day – and not all of us made it.
I often wonder if the constant stress was what lead to my mother’s heart attack – so unexpected, and at such a young age. It was a shock to all of us – especially my father. I know he truly loved my mother, in his own selfish way. When she died, it was like something inside of him died. He never looked to another woman – no young stepmother to help raise me. Instead, he turned his heart towards money and status; and those became the only things he cared about.
Given our humble background, once we’d risen to the rank of low-noble, and wore the mantle of status and wealth, my father became obsessed with hiding our humble roots. He’d hired coaches to teach me everything that a young noblewoman should know – and I’d been taught how to talk, how to walk, and how to act in every situation.
And yet, my training had never covered slave auctions.
In the bedroom, I pull my modest skirt and blouse off and drop them to the floor. Jenna then helps me into the revealing, skintight dress. It hugs the generous curves of my body, and I feel incredibly self-conscious in it. My round figure and voluptuous curves seem so ungainly compared to the elegant, model-like physiques of most noblewomen.
“It looks really good,” says Jenna, with a genuine smile. “Kendrick’s going to lose his mind.”
I frown. She’s right. Somehow, the dress accentuates my body, rather than trying to disguise my curves or downplay my figure. As much as I feel self-conscious about not looking as slender or elegant as the other noblewomen, I know they probably look at me and feel their bodies are positively boyish compared to my feminine curves. This dress makes me look like a woman.
The violet is muted, drawing out my skin color and contrasting with the green of my eyes. The neckline is high, but it still doesn’t stop the dress from showcasing the generous curves of my bosom, hugging the roundness of my breasts. A deep slit runs up the side of the dress, and as take a step forward to test the fit, I find that the slit reveals the ripe flesh of my thigh from ankle almost to the hip.
If only I wanted Kendrick to lose his mind…
There’s a knock at my door. “Enter,” I say, and one of the guards steps in, his head bowed down in respect. Growing up, I’d never had an army of servants and guards at my beck and call, and even now it feels awkward to be around people who have been brought up to be uncomfortable even making eye contact with me, due to our perceived differences in station.
The irony being, of course, that before my father’s good fortune, many of these servants would have been considered the same social rank as me.
“Lady Albright,” the guard addresses me by title, which is another uncomfortable aspect to my newfound status. “The Lord Albright requests that you make your way to the transport dock.”
“Thank you… Peter,” I respond, taking a moment to recall his name.
I see the hint of a smile on his face – surprised and delighted that a noblewoman would care enough to bother remembering his name. Most would simply say: “Leave us.” Or possibly respond with something as curt as a mere nod.
I follow the guard to the transport dock, where my father’s ship awaits. I’m self-conscious of the way my hips roll in the dress as I walk. There’s no way for me to hide the curves of my body in this clingy fabric.
When we arrive, I find my father in deep conversation with an advisor – but even he holds his hand up to silence his employee mid-sentence the moment I arrive.
My father turns to look at me with wide eyes and a greedy expression. It’s not a look of desire, or anything inappropriate between father and daughter. If I was to compare it to anything, it’s the look my father gives a particularly juicy, well-cooked steak when it’s bought to his table…
…or a large stack of money.
“Good,” my father nods. “Very good.” His eyes travel up and down my body, and they take the scenic route. “I commissioned this dress myself, from Leana Wang.”
Leana Wang. No wonder I look good in it. It must have cost a years’ salary for the average worker on Tear.
I hide my frown. I hate the way my father looks at me – as though I’m a piece of livestock, ready to be sold at auction.
In a way, I’m being sold no differently to those poor women at the auction. At least being Kendrick’s property couldn’t be as bad as belonging to those three Aurelians – and in theory, I could still refuse any betrothal he offers me…
…if I didn’t mind being disowned and thrown onto the street, that is.
Three Aurelians. Oh, Gods! Three!
I’m ashamed that my thoughts so easily turn to those towering, beastly aliens – to their immense bodies, and huge muscles. How much bigger they are than Kendrick…
My cheeks burn – probably bigger in every sense possible!
My father scowls at my sudden red cheeks – probably assuming I’m merely embarrassed by my revealing outfit, and unaware that I’ve allowed my mind to wander to wicked places.
I bite my lip and we both climb aboard the luxurious transport vessel.
As I take my seat, I can’t help but let my mind return to the wicked places it had visited just moments earlier…
Three Aurelians!
Even one of those huge aliens would be too much to handle, I’m sure of it. I can’t even imagine what a poor woman would feel being trapped together with all three of them…
Or can I? My imagination is certainly giving it a try!
I think about their huge hands – gripping at my flesh, groping my body
, and gripping me so possessively… Oh, Gods! I’d feel so helpless, so out of control…
My nipples harden and I push the thought out of my mind before my arousal becomes obvious. Sadly, in the sheer material of my dress, you can clearly make out the points of my nipples and right now they’re as obvious as bullets against the front of the gown.
Why do I allow myself these thoughts? I know in my heart I couldn’t handle even a single Aurelian, much less three!
My life has been so closely controlled, I’ve never even been allowed to remain in the same room as another man without a chaperone being present – and the only time I’ve been kissed was a quick, stolen peck when the gardener’s son sneaked over…
I never saw the gardener again – and it filled me with guilt that I lost the father his job for the sake of a moment’s distraction with his son.
My father’s ship takes off, and my stomach lurches as we rise swiftly above the streets of Tear.
We fly towards the theatre, where the proceedings will take place…
The proceedings. I still shudder at the misleading mundanity of that term. Proceedings sounds like a regular, old business meeting – except this is one in which innocent, helpless women will be forced into slavery to the three huge, violent alien warriors.
5
Lezena
Those three, huge alien warriors are going to be in that room.
My heart skips a beat as I follow my father through the ornate doors, into the seating section reserved for low-nobles. We’re above the merchants, businessmen, and prominent members of society that fill the general seating – but still very clearly below the seats and boxes reserved for the nobles and high-nobles; who take the most prestigious spots in the beautiful old theater.
I scan the huge chamber. This particular theatre has a huge stage, normally used for the elegant ballets and prestigious operas that I’m not refined enough to enjoy – although the high-notes are always impressive.
Today it breaks my heart.
The stage is filled with women.
