J McKenna - Slave Planet

When Beth was brought down from the platform, she got a close look at her new captor. The man had a kindly face, reasonably clean-shaven. Close up, she could tell he was middle-aged—there was some gray in his spiky hair. For that reason, she thought of him as “Spike.” Beth couldn’t imagine she’d have much trouble from him, even if he did try and mate with her. After all, how many times could he get it up? Of course, she realized she was comparing him to an Earth man. Here, they might get hard-ons well into their eighties!

He fastened a collar around her neck and attached a leash to it. She expected to be taken away immediately, and was glad to see him stick around for the rest of the auction. She was really worried about Greta. As he stood next to her, he began idly stroking her breasts and smiling. Apparently, he liked the smooth skin on these new slaves.

Ally was brought up next and quickly sold to a man who already had three women in tow. She couldn’t imagine why he’d need another woman in his life. The man was close to seven feet tall, which made Ally look like a child next to him. He hardly paid any attention to her, letting his women leash her and drag her along behind them as he walked away.

Beth, watching and listening closely, again heard that word detashia used. Ally wasn’t much taller than Beth, so it couldn’t be “big.” Spirited, perhaps? Pretty? Valuable?

Greta came up last. Beth saw that she was still quite dizzy and had trouble standing up on her own. Her captors treated her like damaged goods and the crowd reacted accordingly. Very few bids were offered. The two men seemed upset over their captive. They shouted at her to straighten up and walk. Her injuries prevented her from doing what they wanted. Beth was very worried about her. Surely they can see the wound on her head—don’t they have any medical help on this godforsaken planet?

“ Detashia ,” she said suddenly to her new owner, pointing to Greta. He looked surprised.

“ Detashia?” he repeated, quizzically, looking up at the limping woman.

Beth grabbed his hand and stroked her skin with it, mimicking his actions of a few minutes before. “Yes, she’s valuable merchandise,” she said in exasperation. “Buy her, you old goat—I know you like the smooth ones. Besides, I can help her.”

Spike looked around, as if thinking about what she had said. Beth held her breath, wishing she knew exactly what the word meant. She hoped it meant “valuable.”

“ Qwitan,” the man said suddenly, raising his hand.

Lumpy looked down at him. “ Qwitan?”

The man nodded. Lumpy looked out over the crowd and said a few more words. There was silence. He looked back to the man and nodded, scowling. He brought Greta to the edge of the platform.

“Let me help her,” Beth said, holding up her bound hands, tipping her head toward Greta. Spike looked at her for a moment, then took out a knife and cut her free. She wasn’t going anywhere, not with the leash on her. Beth turned to Greta and with the man’s help, brought her down to the ground. The commander sagged in her arms.

“It’s all right, commander, I’ve got you. You get to go with me. You’re going to be fine.” Beth wished she could be sure of that.

Beth braced herself against the weight of the larger woman. Their buyer made no effort to help. It’s probably a cultural thing, she mused. Owners don’t help slaves. But when they reached the man’s cart, parked at the edge of the square, he helped Beth lift Greta into the back. He put a collar and leash on Greta and tied both leashes to the cart. Then he clucked his tongue at the donkey and the two astronauts rode off toward their new lives.

Jorja, collared and leashed, was dragged along by the young man toward their cart. The older man and his slave followed behind.

The younger man gave her orders that she didn’t understand and began to get angry until the old man caught up and spoke a few words to his son. The older man turned and gave the same orders to the woman with them and she immediately braced herself against the cart, head low. The older man stepped up behind her and pulled his loincloth aside.

Jorja turned to the young man. “Oh, no! Not that! I’m from another planet! I don’t belong here! We aren’t even the same species!” She was desperate not to let this happen. She imagined fatal consequences from such an intimate liaison.

The boy was not to be denied. He grabbed her and forced her head down next to the slave woman. Jorja tried to struggle. On Earth, she would have been able to fight off most men. Here, the men were more than a match for her. Still, she had to do something.

Instinctively, she brought up her right leg and kicked back, catching him in the groin. He doubled over and Jorja turned and brought her knee up into his face, hearing the satisfying crunch of cartilage. The old man just stared at her, his cock pinning the slave girl to the cart.

Enraged, the young man tried to backhand Jorja across the face, but she blocked it and punched him hard in the stomach. He stepped back, gasping and she followed with a front kick that sent him sprawling onto the ground.

He jumped up, enraged, looking around wildly to see if anyone had seen him getting beaten up by a woman. There were several people standing around, staring. He charged the Earth woman angrily, ready to use his superior weight and strength to knock her down. Instead, she sidestepped and tripped him, using his momentum against him. He fell headfirst into the dirt again. He cried out in fury and frustration and began to scramble to his feet.

She froze there for a moment as the full weight of her rash actions hit her. Jorja sensed that on this planet, no woman would probably ever dare to do what she had done. No doubt there would be severe repercussions. In an instant, her fear galvanized her into action. She turned and ran down the main street, her leash flapping behind her.

Jorja heard the old man shouting. She didn’t look back. Several men came out to stare at her as she sprinted past, as if they couldn’t believe their eyes. Then, at first just one or two and then in larger numbers, they began to intervene. Reaching out for her, they tried to grab her arms. One dove for her legs, but she managed to jump over his back.

Her breath was coming in gasps in the hot atmosphere. The natives were used to it and they came at her from all directions now. She fought them, using knees, elbows and speed. She kicked, she punched, she used all her skills. Still, there were just too many. Someone managed to trip her and she fell heavily into the dirty street. She cried out as three big men pinned her to the ground.

The crowd parted as her new “owners” approached. Jorja could see blood on the face of the younger man. He was clearly furious. The older man tried to talk to him, but the younger man just shrugged him off. Uh oh, I’m in trouble now , she thought. She struggled again. The men held her firmly.

The young man unhooked the leash and doubled it. He slashed out suddenly, catching her on the legs, the leather stinging her flesh. Jorja cried out.

“ Junga!” A tall, elderly man stepped between Jorja and the angry young man. Instantly, the crowd went silent and stepped back. Clearly, this man commanded respect. Perhaps he was a village leader, she mused. He said a few sentences to the father. The young man didn’t like what he heard, but his father smiled. He nodded his head in agreement.

The son stepped forward, gesticulating wildly. The town elder listened, then spoke a few words. The young man cocked his head, then looked at Jorja. His father took him aside and whispered something into his ear. Slowly, the son nodded and gave a grim, bloody smile.