Chained

  He frowned. “No, of course not. I’m just trying to relax you…and to be honest with you. You asked how I learned to give massages—well…” He shrugged again, like it was no big deal.

  “But this is…that’s…” Maggie shook her head in disgust. “I knew I shouldn’t have gotten into this ship with you. You’re just some kind of a…an intergalactic player, aren’t you?”

  Kor lifted an eyebrow. “Define ‘player.’ Is it like a gladiator?”

  “No! It’s a guy who screws every girl he sees—or tries to. He doesn’t give a damn about their feelings—he just wants into their pants.” Maggie crossed her arms over her chest angrily. How could she have let herself be so taken in by him? The quickest way to relax a girl, indeed. It was disgusting.

  “Maggie,” Kor said, leaning forward. “I don’t think you understand. I didn’t try to get into these girls, uh, pants—or under their skirts—or however you want to put it. They were sent to my cell for me to breed them whether I wanted to or not. I simply tried to make it easier for them.”

  “So you had nothing to do with it?” Maggie asked sarcastically. “Poor Kor, forced to have sex with all kinds of beautiful woman. What a terrible time you must have had.”

  Kor shook his head. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t pleasant at times but sometimes I was sent a female I had no affinity for. That was mostly with the rich mistresses though, who wanted the thrill of sleeping with an arena champion.”

  “Oh great—mistresses, virgins, was there anyone you didn’t screw?”

  “No,” Kor said harshly. “Because I didn’t have a choice. My master rented my stud services the same way he used me in the arena. I fucked at his pleasure as I fought at his pleasure. I was a slave—I had no free will in the matter.”

  Maggie shook her head, bewildered. “But how…how could you live like that?”

  “I had no choice,” Kor said simply. “It wasn’t all bad so I lived with it.” He frowned. “At least I didn’t try to take revenge, like some of others.”

  “Revenge? For being a slave?”

  He nodded. “Some of the other warriors in my master’s stable were cruel to the females that were sent to them. They looked at the opportunity to breed as a way to pay back the pain we were dealt. They didn’t dare get too rough with the rich mistresses but the slaves…sometimes they were brutal.”

  “That’s awful,” Maggie whispered.

  “Worse than you think. There was one…” He frowned as though remembering and his big hands curled into fists at his sides.

  “One who what?” Maggie prompted, curious despite herself.

  “He had the cell next to mine and he always liked to brag that he broke in the females who were sent to him properly. I remember one little virgin slave girl—barely old enough to bleed.” He shook his head. “It was fucking inhuman to try and get her with child at such a young age but her master wanted her to have a son with warrior’s blood. So he…”

  “He what?” Maggie leaned forward. “What happened?”

  “She was given to Raban—he went by ‘Raban the Animal’—and for a damn good reason.” His eyes flashed red. “He hurt her…badly. All night long I heard her crying and begging through the window that connected Raban’s cell to mine. I shouted at him to stop but he just laughed. Bastard.” He took a deep breath. We were locked in so there was nothing I could do. I paced all night, listening to it. Her screaming. Him laughing. And I couldn’t do a damn thing.”

  "That's awful!"

  "More than you know." Kor closed his eyes briefly and a look of pain passed over his face. “In the morning they let her out and I watched her limp away. She could barely walk and her face…” He shook his head. “I could tell she was never going to look the same again. Raban fucking brutalized her.”

  “Oh no,” Maggie breathed, feeling sick. “Wasn’t there anything anyone could do?”

  “Not officially. The masters didn’t care—the girl had been bred and she still lived, that was all that mattered to them—greedy bastards.” Kor’s deep voice was bitter. His eyes flashed red again. “Unofficially though, during my next training session with Raban, my sickle knife somehow slipped.”

  “Meaning what? What happened?” Maggie demanded.

  “Meaning that my master was no longer able to collect a stud fee for Raban anymore. He had nothing left to stud with.” Kor grinned grimly. “I was beaten severely for the ‘accident’ but it was well worth it as far as I was concerned.”

  “I’m glad you did it,” Maggie said decisively. “I’m glad you cut off his…his business. It sounds like he deserved it.”

  “He did,” Kor said soberly. “But even though I took revenge for her, nothing could undo that little slave girl’s agony. No doubt she’ll be frightened of males for the rest of her life.”

  “Poor thing.” Maggie felt a lump in her throat. “And what a terrible thing for you to have to hear when you couldn’t do anything about it.”

  “That was an extreme case, but unfortunately not that unusual around our stable. We lived and died, fought and fucked all at my master’s command.” A grim look came over his face. “I will never be in that position again,” he swore softly. “I am no one’s fucking plaything and no master or mistress will ever control me again from now until I die.”

  “I don’t blame you for feeling that way,” Maggie said quietly. “And I don’t blame you for doing whatever you had to in order to get free.”

  “Oh, I didn’t kill my master to gain my freedom,” Kor said. “I killed him for revenge. Some things…” He looked away, staring out the window which showed the blackness of space speckled with stars. “Some things can’t be forgiven or forgotten.”

  “Oh,” Maggie whispered. Would she ever understand this enigmatic man? “But—”

  “Mistress, we are now making orbit around Twidal,” the voice of their Sporran driver came over the speaker mounted in the ceiling. “Touch down will be achieved very soon. I will strive for the softest landing possible.”

  “Oh, uh, thank you,” Maggie said. But before the words even left her mouth, the hovercoach was descending toward a bluish-pink planet. It landed with a barely discernable bump—apparently the ride was over.

  Maggie hastened to put back on her shoes.

  Well, so much for understanding Kor. As soon as we get out of here I’m headed straight for the nearest phone or whatever they have that makes long distance calls so Ferna and Ratner can come get me. She wondered why the thought didn’t make her happier. But a look at Kor showed he didn’t seem to think their time together was done.

  “Here we are,” he murmured, sitting up straighter and squaring his massive shoulders. “Follow my lead and remember to act the part. It’s time to put on a show.”

  Before Maggie could ask him exactly what he meant, he had stepped out of the hovercoach and was holding out a hand to her.

  “Come, my lady,” he murmured. “Your future awaits.”

  Chapter Seven

  Maggie allowed Kor to take her hand and help her out of the cab though she clearly had no idea what he was talking about. Luckily for both of them, he did. For a time he’d had a wealthy elderly patron who came to him, simply because she wanted to talk. Kor couldn’t understand why she was willing to pay his stud fee simply to pass the time but he had grown to enjoy her company and looked forward to her visits. One of the topics she talked about had been the elite society that attended the Lo’thian spa. From talking to her, Kor knew what was expected—even if Maggie didn’t.

  The hovercoach had brought them to the edge of the Grand Promenade, which was traditional. It was a long, white carpet which ran from the very front walkway of the Lo’thian spa to the reception desk where helpful and obsequious attendants waited to take the guest’s name and escort them to their rooms. At the edges of the carpet, other spa guests loitered with their slaves. Kor also knew there were hidden recording devices implanted in the graceful white trees with black leaves which lined the carpet. This was so t
he other ladies who were making use of the spa facilities could watch the entrance later. It was vital to make a good first showing because it would be remembered and discussed for the entire duration of their visit.

  “My Lady Pope’nose,” the Sporran burbled, coming around to bow to Maggie. “It has been a pleasure serving you. Before I go, please forgive my ignorance but I believe your orders specified that you would need one of the spa’s slaves to help you to the reception desk. Therefore one is waiting.” He nodded to their left where a burly slave with white-blond hair and chiseled features stood with his arms clasped loosely behind his back and his legs spread.

  Probably to show off the size of his cock, Kor thought and felt a growl rising in his throat. This idiot wasn’t getting anywhere near his female—not if he had anything to say about it.

  “Oh, well…” Maggie was clearly confused. “Thank you, I guess,” she told the Sporran. “But I don’t know what help he can really be. I mean, unless he wants to carry the bags but—oh, the luggage was sent a long time ago, right? So I really don’t know how—”

  The spa slave came forward with a sneer. “My Lady,” he began. “I would be more than pleased to escort you to the reception desk if you find your own slave…” Here he eyed Kor up and down. “Unacceptable.”

  “My Lady needs no help from anyone but me.” Kor glared at the other male trying to horn in on his territory. A possessive rage swept through him, making his eyes feel hot with fury. It was the same way he felt when he fought in the arena. He’d be damned if he let another male lay a finger on Maggie, let alone escort her all the way to the reception desk.

  Speaking of Maggie, she was tugging anxiously at his arm.

  “Kor, no—your eyes,” she whispered when he looked down at her. She had a worried expression on her face as though she expected him to explode in rage, just as he had when he’d almost killed Lady Pope’nose.

  Kor took a deep breath, fighting to control his fury, trying to calm himself. Slowly the burning in his eyes cooled and the red veil that had dropped over his vision cleared. But the damage was already done—at least as far as the other slave was concerned. He had been staring at Kor with growing apprehension and now he took an involuntary step back.

  “My apologies,” he said quickly. “I can see the lady has all the help she needs.”

  “You’re damn right she does,” Kor growled. “And you can spread it to the other males in this place as well—no one touches my lady but me.”

  “Understood.” The slave bobbed his head quickly and scurried away, much to Kor’s satisfaction.

  Maggie watched the slave go, clearly confused by the whole episode.

  “What was that all about?” she asked, turning to Kor.

  “This.” Without warning, he lifted her swiftly into his arms and began the long walk up the Grand Promenade to the reception desk.

  “Wait—what? What are you doing?” Maggie demanded, but in a low voice, Kor was glad to note, since many avid eyes were watching them eagerly.

  “Escorting you to the reception desk,” he answered matter-of-factly.

  “But you don’t have to carry me,” she protested.

  “Yes, I do. That’s the whole meaning of escorting you to the desk. It’s the tradition here at the spa,” Kor explained. “A mistress who doesn’t have a slave strong enough to carry her at least most of the way to Reception is scorned and laughed at by the other patrons.”

  But Maggie continued to protest.

  “You don’t know how many cupcakes I’ve eaten lately—I’m way too heavy.”

  Kor burst out laughing. “What? You’re light as a feather, blondie. I could carry you all day.” He frowned. “And what the hell are cupcakes?”

  “Little tiny cakes that have crazy amounts of fat and sugar and carbs.” Maggie sighed. “Seriously though, you don’t have to pretend I’m light. I nearly broke poor Jonas’s back on the way from my ship to the chasm.”

  “That skinny little slave.” Kor didn’t even try to keep the scorn out of his voice. “He probably couldn’t lift a child. His weakness is no reflection on you.”

  “Oh, well…” Maggie seemed somewhat mollified. “I guess I never thought of it like that. But you know, he can’t help being skinny and I can help being…uh, not skinny if I would just diet and exercise. And skinny guys aren’t all bad—my fiancé, Donald, is pretty, uh, slender.”

  Kor frowned. “You keep bringing him up. You’ll have to tell me more about this skinny weakling you’ve promised to join with soon.”

  “Hey!” Maggie protested. “Donald’s not—” But just then they arrived at the end of the Grand Promenade. At the far edge of the pristine white carpet the reception desk loomed, a high, polished structure made of solid black Korthinian marble. Two spa attendants—Sensorians, if their milky white skin was any indication—sat behind the desk.

  “Yes, slave,” one said in a clear, bell-like voice. “Whom have you brought to us?”

  “May I present Lady Pope’nose,” Kor said clearly. He set his lady gently on her feet before the desk and then took a step back and bowed his head. Now it was up to Maggie.

  * * * * *

  Maggie wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Um, hello?” she said uncertainly, looking up at the strange beings staring down at her from behind the black, shiny desk. “I’m here to check in?”

  “Very good, Lady Pope’nose,” the one who had spoken first said. “You are expected.”

  “And may we congratulate you on a very fine entrance,” the second continued smoothly. “It will surely be recorded in the annals for future contemplation.”

  “Oh, thank you, I guess.” Maggie smiled at them.

  At least, unlike the Sporran chauffeur, the desk attendants looked vaguely humanoid in the face. Their skin, however, was a strange milky white and both had long, white, tentacle-like hair which waved gently around their narrow heads like seaweed in some underwater current only they could feel. Their eyes were large, perfect ovals, the palest imaginable shade of pink with light blue stripes. They reminded Maggie strangely of Easter eggs.

  The first attendant nodded at her. “Your room is prepared and your luggage is already installed. Your gowns have been pressed and are hanging ready for your use.”

  The second attendant frowned. “But your slave’s clothing has not been unpacked. It was our understanding from the call you made last night that you would not be traveling with a slave after all. I believe you said that the one you had planned to bring was still unbroken?” He glared meaningfully at Kor who was standing quietly behind her with his head bowed.

  “Oh!” Maggie took a deep breath. “Well, as a matter of fact, I did manage to, uh, break him at the very last minute,” she improvised quickly. “And so…here he is with me. So I don’t need any other slaves,” she added, remembering how angry Kor had gotten when the other slave had offered his assistance. Really, she had been sure he was about to blast the poor guy when he offered to help her to the reception desk.

  “I can’t help noting that your slave wears no pain collar,” the second attendant said. “How can we be sure he is truly broken to your service? How do we know that he will not cause a ruckus or present problems to the other mistresses here at the spa?”

  Maggie had no idea how to answer that. Luckily, Kor apparently did. He stepped forward, nodding his head respectfully to both the strange beings behind the desk.

  “Your pardon for my interruption but I wish to declare myself. I am a true and obedient slave to my lady. I serve her with love and devotion so no collar is needed. I vow I will not cause any trouble as long as my lady is safe.” He frowned. “If she is threatened, however, then I cannot speak for my actions. I would give my life to defend her and kill any who offered her harm.”

  Maggie couldn’t help being impressed with the speech. Kor seemed like a pretty straight forward kind of guy so the flowery language was a surprise but he pulled it off well. Obviously the desk attendants thought so too. They look
ed at each other and then nodded in unison.

  “An impressive declaration,” said one, looking at Maggie. “But are we given to understand that you have broken this slave with no more than the power of your will?”

  “I told you, I serve her from love,” Kor insisted.

  “But in her call to us, your lady said you were completely intractable. She vowed you would not even kiss her foot—as is right and necessary.” The attendant frowned at Kor in an accusatory way.

  Maggie shivered, remembering the scene between Kor and Lady Pope’nose where he had threatened to bite her if she stuck her foot in his face. And then there was the vow he had made to never be a slave again while they were talking in the hovercoach. Surely this gesture of obedience was too much to ask of him.

  “Oh,” she said hastily. “That whole kissing the foot thing is such an old-fashioned custom and so unsanitary, you know I—”

  Kor cut her off by dropping to his knees and kissing the top of her foot gently. But he didn’t stop there. Maggie stifled a gasp as his large, warm hand slid up her ankle to caress her calf. His lips followed, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses from the top of her foot all the way up to the ticklish, sensitive spot behind her knee.

  “Oh,” she whispered, reaching out a hand to steady herself. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was suddenly dry. Somehow she found her fingers buried in his springy black hair, almost as if she was urging him on. His mouth was moving even higher now, inching slowly but surely up her inner thigh. The coarse black stubble on his cheeks scratched her tender flesh but his lips were as feather-light as butterfly wings. “Kor,” she murmured breathlessly. “Kor, that’s…I think that’s enough.”

  “Indeed it is, though you have been most generous with your display, Mistress.” The high, bell-like voice of the desk attendant cut through the spell that seemed to have been cast by Kor’s gentle kisses. With a little gasp, Maggie looked up at the desk.

  To her surprise, she saw that the two desk attendants had changed. Their faces and forms remained the same but their pale, milky-white skin was now a glowing pink and their tentacle like hair was almost maroon. The hair waved more quickly too—whipping back and forth like a nest of snakes someone had stirred with a stick.