J McKenna: Slave Planet

He let her rise without interference. He came again with a technique Jorja had seen him do many times in practice—a high-low combination that often fooled the rookies. She blocked the feint to her face, then tightened her stomach against the blow that followed. Jorja pretended it hurt her worse than it did. She staggered back as the crowd cheered.

Keltar allowed himself to become cocky, and followed up quickly with a grab that was designed to push her into the ropes. She spun around and kicked, holding back as she did, feeling her foot connect with his midsection. Startled, he let go of her and backed away, shaking his head.

He grinned at her, as if he knew what she was doing. She felt they were on the same wavelength. For some reason, Jorja found this to be highly stimulating. She couldn’t believe it. They were in the middle of a fight, even if she was just making a show of it, and the interplay was making her hot. Maybe it’s because she was doing it for Keltar and he knew it. She was letting him save face and that really was the only possible solution to this dilemma he created when he tried to exert his command over her.

I’d have sex with you anytime, just not in public—we Earth women haven’t come that far yet!

He came in again with a technique he had taught her just yesterday—a sweeping action that knocked most opponents off their feet. Jorja had taught him a counter to it—a quick jump up, legs tucked tight, a fraction of a second before his leg struck the back of hers, causing him to fall off balance. When she landed a second later, she had been in a perfect position to counter-punch him. This time, she let his technique work and landed on her back, slapping her right arm down to absorb the blow.

Jorja pretended to be hurt. She rolled around on the platform, while Keltar strutted about, waiting for her to rise. The umpire finally stepped in and declared the trainer the winner.

He graciously helped her to her feet and they left as the crowd roared its approval. Jorja “limped” along with Keltar’s arm about her waist. His touch electrified her. They walked to the training compound alone, as Klasdor and Ripatus made their way into the ring for the big fight, drawing the crowd’s attention.

“Don’t you want to see them fight?” she asked.

“No. Klasdor’s going to win. The bets are down already.”

“The fight’s fixed?”

“No. But Klasdor is a very good fighter. I trained them both. I know who will prevail. I’m more worried about you.”

“I’ll be OK. I’m not really hurt, you know.”

“I know. I wanted to thank you for not challenging me there. I would have lost my position as trainer if I had lost to a woman.”

“I figured as much. I really didn’t want to fight. you” She straightened up after they were inside, out of sight. Jorja put a hand on his strong broad face. “I’d enjoy having sex with you—but we just don’t do it in public where I’m from.”

He nodded. “You are quite different from Baktu women. I must remember.”

They went into the shower room and cleaned up. They left, naked and dripping wet, letting their hands roam over each other’s bodies. Jorja was dripping wet in another part of her anatomy as well, she noticed. Their playfulness caused Keltar’s erection to grow. It was like a club sticking out from between his legs. Jorja was fascinated by it, like a snake charmer might be.

They practically fell into Keltar’s room, stumbling to the bedding. The water had evaporated already from their skin. They clung together as they rolled as one, Jorja kissing the trainer, feeling a true kinship with this humanoid like she had never felt with an Earth man. Here was a big strong man she could hang onto.

He fondled her breasts, causing an electric current to spark between her nipples and her cunt. She had to have him, now.

She wrapped her legs around him, opening her cunt to his hard cock. He teased her for a few minutes, letting just the tip slide past her engorged labial lips as her cunt sucked at him.

“Oh, please,” she begged. “Put it in, put it in.”

“Perhaps this would be a good time to discuss men’s superiority to women,” he said, humor in his voice.

“Oh, please, not now! Just fuck me!”

His cock slipped out and back a half-inch, driving her to distraction. “Now, after your miserable performance in the ring, would you not say men are the better fighters?” he teased. “And women should stay at home and care for the house, cook for their masters?”

Jorja could hardly concentrate on his words, her entire being so caught up with the feel of his cock. “You bas-tard,” she gasped, grinning.

“Calling your new master names? Looks like I’ll have to punish you.” With that, he thrust his cock hard into her. She gasped once as it filled her completely, then her breath left her as she exploded into a powerful orgasm. More stars surrounded her head.

Keltar still wasn’t finished. He kept stroking his huge cock into her, bringing her to another climax in a few seconds. Then another. Finally, when she couldn’t imagine coming again, she felt him erupt into her, causing yet another orgasm to rip through her body.

“Oh, Jesus! I can’t stand it!” she cried out, hugging him tightly to her.

They clung together, finally able to express their love for each other. Jorja felt her small sacrifice in the ring was well worth it.

Six months and three days later, the U.S.S. Saratoga eased into orbit over Devon. Four times the size of the Letanya, this, by all accounts, was a battle ship. It bristled with armaments, including lasers, space cannon and heat-seeking rocket-torpedos designed to work in airless space. The lasers could cut through a planet’s atmosphere and destroy structures—or people—on the ground. The Saratoga normally carried a crew of 25, but the addition of the Marines brought the total up to 40.

Unlike the Letanya , this ship had two large shuttles, capable of carrying ten men in each. Both shuttles would be used in this mission. Nine soldiers would fly down in the first shuttle, followed closely by the second, carrying six soldiers. The remaining space on board was reserved for the hostages, as they had come to call the former crew women of the Letanya.

“Listen up, soldiers,” barked Sgt. Dale Baker once the Marines had shaken off the effects of cryosleep and gathered in their staging area in the shuttle bay. The beefy black sergeant spoke with the authority that fifteen years in the Marines had given him. “You’ve had your beauty sleep, now it’s time to earn your pay. The lieutenant will be in shortly to give us a final briefing, but I just want to remind you: You know you’ve all been hand-picked for this mission. I expect you to honor the code and use your heads. I don’t want anybody to get hurt out there.”

Lt. Carl Nystrom opened the cargo access doors and strode in. Immediately, the group jerked to attention. “At ease,” he said as he walked up the steps to the platform to stand next to the sergeant. “Everything OK?” he asked. Baker nodded.

“All right, listen up.” He eyed the fifteen Marines, dressed in full battle gear, their heavy-duty phase rifles nestled in their arms. “This isn’t going to be a bug hunt or a weenie roast. We’re dealing with intelligent beings, not unlike ourselves, only these guys are big and aggressive. We don’t want to be the Ugly Americans, but we’re not going to be pushed around, either. We’re going to go into the village where we picked up the transponder signals and ask politely for our astronauts back. Only if they refuse will we get medieval on their asses.”

The Marines cheered upon hearing that. They didn’t come all this way to pussyfoot around with the natives, regardless of what the mission parameters were.