by Opal Carew
“Most of you will be taken to E’Le’Dor, where you will be sold as slaves. Along the way, we will stop at two more worlds, where we will pick up more slaves. When we are on planet, many of you will be loaned to the local brothels.”
“What happens to the ones who aren’t taken to E’Le’Dor?” a woman to his right asked.
Shena didn’t see exactly what happened, but she did see the woman fall to the floor, writhing in pain, one of the guards standing over her.
Ignoring the woman’s wails, the speaker continued. “I didn’t say you could ask questions.”
He paced a few feet, then back again.
“Once you are sold, your new owner can do anything he wants to you. He can touch you anywhere. He can fuck you anywhere. He can make you suffer in any way he likes. He can even kill you.”
He stared at them with steely eyes. “Get used to the fact that your body is his. Learn to pleasure him, and you may survive longer.”
He paced again. “Never make eye contact with a normal person. As a slave, you must keep your eyes downcast at all times.”
He pointed to Shena. “You. Come here.”
Butterflies swarmed through her stomach as she stepped forward.
“Sit.”
She glanced around. There was nowhere to sit down.
He pointed at her with a black rod about six inches long. Intense, rippling pain shot through her, frying every nerve-end.
“I said sit!”
She crumpled to the ground, then sat cross-legged.
He nodded. “Better. Now, look at this.”
She glanced up at the black rod he held in front of him. He shifted it in front of his face, stopping in front of his eyes. Her gaze met his for a brief instant.
“I told you never to make eye contact!” he snapped.
He pointed the rod at her again. This time, the pain became completely immobilizing. She fell to the floor, writhing. Her limbs flung outward and her body twitched involuntarily as every nerve-end, every muscle, every organ felt as though it would explode. She prayed for anything, even death, to end the excruciating torture.
Finally, the pain released her body, and she sucked in air, lying on the floor like a wounded animal, unable to move.
“I hope this demonstration will help you all remember the basic rules. Now, all of you, get into the bed slots and sleep.”
He walked away. She felt soft hands lift her. Two of the other slaves hooked Shena’s arms over their shoulders
“Can you walk?” one asked.
Shena tried to move the muscles of her legs, but they did not respond.
“No.” The sound released from her mouth on a breath of air, barely audible.
The women carried her to the nearest column of niches and laid her onto the floor, then slid her into the lowest bed slot.
Shena’s heart thumped loudly as she glanced at the close walls around her. She felt like she was in a coffin. Could it get any worse than this?
A few moments later, the lights went out, leaving her in pitch-black darkness. She felt as though she’d been buried alive.
Chapter 7
The next morning, Shena awoke exhausted, but relieved to climb out of the tiny sleeping space and thankful to find her limbs working fine again, if a little stiff. Most of the night she’d lain awake, despair coursing through her at the thought of Keern’s death.
She and the other women were handed bowls of warm, tasteless food that didn’t quite fill their stomachs. Then they were led outside the ship to a large, fenced area with over a hundred women inside. Shena’s group consisted of the women taken in yesterday. The other women had been with the slavers longer, she realized, as evidenced by their downcast eyes and dirty, bedraggled appearance.
Once inside the pen, Shena stayed away from the fences. There were several men in the area, some loading and unloading wagons or performing various other tasks and some just milling about. One was reading a newspaper, and the word “Herrington” caught her eye. It was in the front-page headline. She stared, trying to make out the rest, but with the way he had it folded, the only parts she could make out were “Herrington” and “Wak.” The man shifted the paper, and the word “Dead” became visible.
Her heart thundered in her chest. The paper held the answer to the question she so desperately wanted answered. Was Keern still alive?
She grasped the wire of the fence and strained to read more, but the man with the paper was too far away.
“What is it, honey?” one of the other women, a tall brunette, asked.
“That newspaper.” She pointed at the man. “It has the name of ... someone I know. I think he might have been killed.”
“You’re new, right? Well, you could ask the guy to give you the paper.”
“You think he’d just give it to me?”
The woman laughed. “Not for free. Just show him your assets.”
Shena stared at her, wide-eyed.
“You might as well get used to using them to your advantage.”
Shena tightened her hands around the wire.
“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t see the mark.” The woman’s gaze had come to rest on the circle on Shena’s arm. “You’d get in big trouble for that.”
The woman glanced at the man with the paper. “Is it really important to you?”
Shena nodded.
The woman called out to the guy. “Hey, you. With the newspaper.” The man glanced toward her. “I’d love a little news. How ’bout you give me that paper?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What’ll ye give me for it?”
She ran her hands over her breasts. “I could show you these.”
He stepped closer, chewing a toothpick.
“I can see lots of those for free when the graebers come bribin’ ye with food.”
One of the other women whispered in Shena’s ear. “Part of the payoff to the local police for the slavers to operate here is that they let them come and offer food in exchange for favors from the women.” She pointed to places in the fence with holes large enough for things to be passed in and out.
Shena’s new friend opened the buttons of her top, slowly, then parted the fabric enough to show a little cleavage. The man’s gaze locked on her fleshy curves.
“So you don’t want to see them?”
“As I said, I’ll see ’em later for free.”
“Maybe. But you won’t get to touch them.” The woman made her voice sultry and low.
His gaze remained riveted on her hand as she slid it inside and stroked herself.
“It’s just a little newspaper,” she continued in that silky tone. “You can buy yourself another.”
“Come over here,” he said as he moved to one of the openings in the fence.
She stepped close, but not too close. “Do we have a deal?”
“I don’t know. Let me see what I’ll get.”
The woman pulled the fabric further apart, just short of revealing her nipples.
One of the other women who had overheard Shena’s desire to see the paper leaned close to him and said in a muffled whisper that Shena could just barely hear, “She only wants the fashion section. Give her a page at a time.”
He smiled, then said, “Show me all of ’em, and I’ll give you the first page.”
The dark-haired woman pulled open her top, and his jaw dropped. She had the largest breasts Shena had ever seen. He shoved the first page through the bars. The woman who’d whispered grabbed the page and carried it over to Shena.
“Now come over here so I can touch them,” he demanded.
The brunette buttoned up her top and turned away.
“Hey, I thought you wanted this?” He waved the paper, clutched tightly in his hand.
He grabbed one of the women through the bars and dragged her against the fence, but one of the guards pushed him away. The women laughed, which made the guy angrier, but the guards prodded him on his way.
Shena pulled the page open and began to read the article, which re
vealed that her father had gone after the Herringtons and killed one of them. Her heart lurched as she read the words, until she saw the first name.
Will. Not Keern.
She relaxed, relieved, yet knowing Keern must be suffering the loss of his brother. The words blurred as she read how her father had killed him and the eldest remaining brother, Keern, had killed her father.
Her father was dead, and she felt nothing for him. Only a coldness deep inside.
The article went on to say Keern blamed the daughter for his brother’s death because she’d lied about an encounter between them, after which, according to the reporter, she’d claimed Keern had raped her.
She remembered his tender touch and the way he’d brought her exquisite pleasure. He must feel mortally wounded believing she would call such a thing rape.
The words at the bottom of the page indicated that the article continued on a later page, which Shena did not have. The paper dropped from her hands.
A fist tightened around her heart as she thought about the pain Keern must be in.
He blamed her for his brother’s death. And rightly so. Although she hadn’t told her father Keern had raped her, she had verified his identity to her father. Maybe if she had lied ... Maybe if she had held her tongue ...
If only she could change things so that she and Keern had never met.
Her soul ached as she could almost feel his hatred gripping her.
Two days after Will’s funeral, Keern and his family sat in court. He and the chief constable had gone back to the Wakefield house and tried to find Shena, but no one knew her whereabouts, or so they had claimed. As the judge entered the courtroom and sat at his desk, Keern glanced around. Still no Shena.
After listening to all the statements from Keern’s family and their men, the chief constable had agreed they had acted in self-defense, but with so many rumors bouncing around about the reason for Wakefield’s attack, this hearing was being held to determine if Keern would be tried for the rape of Shena Wakefield and possibly the murder of Henry Wakefield. Since Shena was the key witness, Keern was amazed she wasn’t here.
As the proceedings progressed, he kept an eye on the door and another on the clock, wondering when she would make her entrance. As the minutes ticked away, he began to realize she wasn’t coming. His gut twisted as he wondered if something had happened to her -- and cursed himself for caring.
The judge glanced through his glasses at the papers on his desk. He cleared his throat, the sound reverberating through the large wood-paneled room.
“Mr. Herrington, in your statement, you say that Mr. Wakefield attacked your family and killed your elder brother, Will, and in turn, you killed Wakefield. Since he was the one who instigated the attack, you claim you acted in self-defense and the defense of your family.”
“That is correct, Your Honor.”
The judge lifted the paper in front of him, then shifted it sideways, examining another.
“It seems, however, that Mr. Wakefield attacked your family because he believed you, Keern Herrington, raped his daughter.”
Anger rocketed through Keern at Shena’s vicious lie, but he kept it tightly hidden.
“I did not, Your Honor.”
The judge leaned forward, his eyes dark and forbidding, and held up a sheaf of papers.
“I have signed statements from a number of people in Mr. Wakefield’s employ who say that when Wakefield heard rumors of the alleged rape from a neighbor, Wakefield confronted his daughter and she claimed you did.”
“She lied,” Keern stated calmly, although he felt anything but calm.
The judge glanced around the courtroom and scowled.
“Well, since Miss Wakefield is not available for questioning at the moment, I have no way to verify that.”
“Your Honor, we have evidence to support Mr. Herrington’s claim.”
Keern glanced at his lawyer, and the man nodded back, a sure smile gripping his face. The lawyer had told Keern as they stepped into court this morning that he had new evidence that would prove Keern’s innocence, but had refused to tell him what it was. The man loved the dramatic.
“Well, bring it here, man,” the judge ordered.
The lawyer approached the judge and handed him a large, flat envelope. The judge opened the flap, tugged out a piece of paper, and examined it. He shook his head, his mouth a grim, straight line.
“Well, that explains why the young woman’s not here,” he muttered.
Keern’s heart froze. Was Shena dead?
The judge raised his gaze to the courtroom. “It seems that the young woman has been sold to the slavers. I have a photograph here that shows her in the slavers’ camp, and the brand on her wrist verifies she was a virgin. She’s holding a newspaper showing the date as two days ago. The claim she made to her father about Mr. Herrington was obviously false.”
He turned his gaze to Keern. “Well, Mr. Herrington, it seems you were telling the truth. This hearing is adjourned.”
His gavel cracked against his desk, and joyful voices erupted around Keern.
But Keern hardly heard them, or felt the slaps on his back from his brother and cousin.
Shena had been sold to the slavers?
He approached the judge and reached for the photograph. The judge handed it to him, and he stared at the image of Shena, wearing a plain white gown, a circle branded into the soft, pale flesh of her inner arm, visible as she held a newspaper. The article she read was about her father’s attack on Keern’s family.
A slaver ship had left yesterday. That was probably the one she’d been on. His stomach twisted. Protective urges swarmed through him at the thought of the slavers touching her, pushing their devices into her, at the pain she would have felt when she’d been branded, but he slammed back those urges. That witch had been the cause of Will’s death and she deserved every foul experience fate seemed eager to give her.
As a virgin, she would not suffer a great deal on the way to the slave market, but she would be trained. That would not be pleasant. No, where she would truly receive her just punishment for her treachery would be at the hands of her master.
If only he could be the one to administer that punishment.
Keern pulled his pack from the back of the wagon.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Keern?” Jacob asked. “You know we could really use your help, with Will gone and all.”
“I have to do this. Jordan is more than ready to take over the household.”
“Well, if I can’t talk you out of leaving, can I accompany you while you find transport?”
“No need. I’ll manage.”
Jacob nodded and shook his hand firmly. “I hope I’ll be seeing you again, cousin.”
Keern smiled. “I’m sure you will. Take care of them for me, Jacob.”
Keern turned and walked away, hearing the creaky wheels of the wagon and the clomping of the horses’ hooves as Jacob left.
Keern knew the slavers would be heading for E’Le’Dor, the only planet in the coalition that still allowed slavery. Not many passenger ships serviced Tarun, but he negotiated passage on a small trade ship. Luckily, E’Le’Dor was a prime location on the trade route.
Chapter 8
Shena followed the woman in front of her, prodded forward by the guard. The door of the ship slid open, revealing an alien landscape beyond. A sea of sand. A wavy horizon. An amber sky.
The planet E’Le’Dor.
She plodded forward, sixth in a long line of women, her ankles and wrists weighed down with chains. The skinny, vacant-eyed young woman ahead of her stumbled as she passed through the doorway. Shena felt the dense, stifling air blast in her face. Her dwindling reserve of energy seared away as she concentrated on moving one foot at a time down the ramp.
Setting foot on an alien planet sent a tremor through her. She squinted against the blazing light of an unfamiliar sun. Her stomach twisted at the thought that soon she would be sold to some brute whose only interest in her was clai
ming her virginity.
Who would buy her and how she would be treated, she didn’t know, but she was sure it would be a horrendous experience. Some of the other women speculated about rich men buying them and lavishing them with jewels and fine silks, but Shena knew better than to fill her mind with such fancy.
These men wanted fresh virgin bodies, and more than likely once their hymens were spent, the women would be discarded, replaced with new virgin meat. Then they’d probably be sold to brothels. Or for labor. Or just put to death.
Keern watched as Shena was led to the block. He was shocked at the emptiness in her eyes.
After hearing of Wakefield’s death, one of his soldiers must have sold her to the slavers. Keern was surprised she hadn’t been raped by such a despicable man, but it seemed he was more interested in platinum than lust, because Shena was listed as a prime virgin, and interest in her at the market was high.
Keern had arrived on the planet several days before the slavers. His friend Jakmerah was very influential and had accompanied him today to bid on Shena.
The guard shoved Shena’s bound hands over a large, dangling hook. Then another man pulled a chain, hauling the hook and Shena’s arms upward, until she held herself on her tiptoes. She barely seemed to have the strength to do that.
The auctioneer regaled Shena’s attributes in a dialect Keern could barely understand. He heard words like “stunning beauty” and “hair like golden sunshine.” Then the man tore open her rag of a garment, exposing her naked body to the whole marketplace. A protective instinct shot through Keern and he jerked forward, but his companion grabbed his arm.
“Easy, Keern. There is nothing you can do for her now. Leave this to me.”
Keern froze, then nodded. He trusted Jakmerah. He had to leave this in his hands.
The auctioneer slid his hand under Shena’s left breast, lifting it slightly, saying words Keern couldn’t hear through the red-hot rage slicing through him. He swore to himself he would tear the man’s hands off if he ever got close to him. Shena just stood there, like a lifeless statue. The man gestured and the hook rose higher, until she hung from her wrists. He spun her around, lifting her garment to run his hand along her round, firm derriere. Then he spun her back and lifted her ankles, starting to spread her legs.
