Warlord's Enigma MM BDSM Sci-Fi Erotica Page 2

  “I tried to run out but I was locked in. I screamed through the window, banged the doors and walls. No one could hear me. Then these thugs burst in—men I’d never seen before. They stuck a gun to my throat and made me drink a sleeping potion. While I was falling unconscious they put me into a giant black bag.

  “When I woke up, I was chained to a metal bench on a space ship with hundreds of commoners surrounding me. One of them told me we were on a shuttle headed for the Xen-Kroth megaship. We were the year’s slave offering, to replace the slaves who’d served the first term. Haine had shipped me off to steal my throne!”

  Arda’s brows pinched together. “This is quite a story. Did you tell my brother?”

  He gave her a blank stare.

  “Kinthor. I’m his sister.”

  Recognition sparked in his brain. She looked younger than Kinthor, who could have been anywhere between 30 and 50—it was hard to guage. She had his same blue-black hair and yellow eyes.

  “He wouldn’t let me! He had me standing there naked and didn't listen to anything I said.”

  “Oh dear.” She glanced at Tiff who had remained near after providing him the clothes. “Bring me a precision disintegrator. If we can just vaporize the metal, then we won’t have to cut his hair.”

  Tiff zipped away as ordered.

  “I don’t care about the crown.” He lifted his head to look at her again. “I need to get back to my world and deal with my damned brother.”

  Arda’s lips raised into a smile. She placed a warm hand on his face.

  “Prince, Kinthor can fix any nonsense going on down there. This usurper made a huge mistake by sending you here. You’re taking a close position with my brother. If he’s on your side, then everything will be fine. You can stop panicking.”

  Tiff handed her what looked like bulbous pistol. She made him tip his head forward again.

  “He's not on my side, though. The way he treated me was deplorable.”

  Arda pushed his strands of hair off one peak of the crown. She touched the gun to it. On the handle were dials she could manipulate with her thumb. He heard her turning them.

  “Kinthor is fair. If he treated you poorly, you must have angered him.”

  “I didn’t!”

  There was a click, then a humming noise. The crown vibrated against his head. Then it was gone. The pain of pulled strands of hair ended.

  “There,” Arda said. “Now we just have to untangle you a bit and you should look fine.”

  Tiff popped to her feet again. “I’ll get brushes.”

  Janus rubbed his throbbing scalp.

  Arda still had a thin smile on her lips. For a moment she said nothing. Janus presumed she waited for the brushes, but then she reached out and placed his hands in hers.

  “When you came in here, I gave you clothes. You didn’t thank me. I took that horrible thing off your head without hurting you. Again, you haven’t thanked me.”

  Janus clucked his lips. “I’m grateful. Obviously. I have other things on my mind.”

  “If you behave in this entitled bratty way with Kinthor he will punish you.”

  Now his eyes bulged. “Entitled? I’m not entitled to clothes?”

  “Not here.” She kept her voice placid. “We’re your conquerors. We don’t even owe you your lives. Your father understood that. He didn’t expect anything when he came here to surrender. He begged my brother not to hurt him because he knew he could be tortured or dismembered. Shalen took nothing for granted. That’s the attitude a conquered person needs to have. If you started off barking demands at Kinthor, then he will knock you down to where you need to be. You’re not a prince here, or a king. You’re our property.”

  Tears hit the back of his eyes. He shook his head at the madness she spouted. “It’s never been that way! We’ve ruled just the same for this last year. All we had to do is increase our yields so we could turn over a fourth of our crops and livestock to you—which was easy with the machines you gave us. Nothing changed on Sensicry. We’re not conquered! This was like a trade agreement.”

  Arda leaned back into her cushion. Her lips were pulled to one side.

  “Prince, or, um—what’s your name?”

  “Janus.”

  “Janus. You’re either incredibly naïve or incredibly stupid.”

  He clenched his jaw. Now he couldn’t stand to look at her. His eyes went to the guard, but he found no sympathy there. If he were home a half-dozen servants would scream at her not to speak to him that way. The whole universe has gone insane.

  “We’ve been nice to your world. You should be grateful. You shouldn’t act as though you're entitled to it. Your father brokered that treatment by surrendering humbly to my brother. We don’t treat other worlds this well.” Tiff entered the room with a basket of grooming supplies. Arda gestured to her. “Tiff’s people were enslaved. They’re forced to work in the gollick mines under their planet’s surface. They kept revolting and cursing us. It didn’t have to be that bad for them—but they wouldn’t surrender. We’re the Xen-Kroth. We can be kind conquerors or cruel. It depends on the planet. We reward obedience and crush defiance.”

  “You are beasts and bullies—using your powers to devastate people and steal from them.” His face grew hot. He was rarely so insulting, but she’d brought it on herself.

  “That’s right.”

  He scoffed.

  “And you’re on the other side of our gun. Are you going to spit at us and get your head blown off? Or are you going to accept reality and kneel?”

  Janus seethed through sneering lips. “There’s no justification for what you do. It’s barbaric thievery.”

  Arda leaned back into the cushions. “Fine. We don’t pretend to be anything different. See how far standing on your moral high ground will get you with Kinthor.”

  Janus crossed his arms. He muttered through clenched teeth. “When is this nightmare going to end.”

  She took a brush from Tiff’s basket. “If you want my brother’s help you have to earn it. You’re not entitled to it.”

  She started brushing. Janus tolerated this. The bristles soothed his sensitive scalp.

  “I know he expects obedience from a comfort slave. He’ll get it one way or another.”

  This struck him. He made himself look into her eyes.

  “What’s he going to do to me?”

  “That’s up to you.” She remained smug. “You’re there for his pleasure.”

  Bile rose in the back of his throat.

  “You can use your position to help your situation on the planet, or you can just suffer. The good thing is he doesn’t keep defiant slaves for long. Kinthor wants someone to relieve his stress. Not to cause him more.”

  “You’re saying I’ll be raped?”

  Arda returned her brush to the basket. “Not usually, but I can’t make any promises. If you piss him off enough you'll regret it.”

  Janus put his face in his hands. “You people are deviants. Father made it sound like something pleasant—that’s not what I see.” His stomach squeezed. If he’d eaten today he would have thrown up.

  Arda stood. “Come. You need to bathe and get measured for a wardrobe before I turn you over.”

  He raised his head. The derision in his face must have touched her. She gave him a soft smile.

  “Make things easier on yourself,” she said. “He can be kind, my brother. That’s actually what he prefers.”

  3

  The wardrobe Kinthor’s sister referred to came from a machine. He gaped at the tawdry garments it spewed. When it was finished, he sifted through a horrifying selection. Tiny black underwear was the closest he got to pants. There was only one that would cover his ass cheeks. The rest of it was superfluous garbage: long gloves, thigh-high stockings, and tight fitting shirts that left his chest and stomach bare.

  Janus clung to the towel around his hips. “Where’s the outfit I had before I went into the shower?”

  Arda leaned against the silver-paneled wa
ll with her arms crossed. “That was Tiff’s. She was only lending it to you. This is what you’ll wear as a comfort slave.”

  He picked up underpants with only a string in back. “This is obscene!”

  Arda’s shoulders rose and fell with a huff of breath. “Prince Janus, I’m seriously warning you to stop acting like that. I don't care, but Kinthor won’t put up with it for long. Try to think rationally about the situation you’re in.”

  He threw down his towel (since she’d already seen him naked) and donned the most concealing shorts. He pulled on stockings, gloves, and a wrap as well. The less flesh he showed the better.

  The two guards had disappeared when he went into the shower. They resurfaced at the door. Arda placed a hand on his back to steer him to them.

  “He’s as ready as I’m able to make him.” Arda handed a satchel with his tawdry garments to them. “I don’t know how he will work out, but we’ll see.”

  The guards brought him down a round side corridor that opened into an expansive thoroughfare, with a domed ceiling hundreds of feet above them. One of the large men pulled on a handle on the silver-paneled wall, opening a hatch. A small car came out automatically. He sat in back with a guard beside him while the other drove. Similar cars with Xen-Kroth drivers whizzed around them. Overhead was a booming announcement: All jed-level cadets must report to Bay eight-four-ten for armory duty.

  Close to the walls were sidewalk platforms. Dozens of Xen-Kroth people strolled on them, many while tapping on computerized tablets. Janus saw Xen-Kroth children, some walking and a few in strollers. Several of the men were in black uniforms with exaggerated shoulder armor. The female had soldiers had adornments on their hips, rather than shoulders. Those who weren’t in uniform varied from drab grey suits to garish costumes. He spied a woman in a dress typical on Sensicry. Once he spotted this, he realized there were others. Some Xen-Kroth men had dressed as nobles from his court. Still more wore the outfits of commoners, but the garments were new, lacking frayed hems or patches.

  Canteen Armedion now serving Jezzu Sandu. All officers ranked Third Destroyer or higher eat free.

  Janus knew they’d never delivered clothes in their mandatory offerings. The aliens were imitating their styles. He realized some of the more garish costumes must have come from other conquered societies.

  Have they no culture of their own? The only native Xen-Kroth clothes were the military uniforms. War is their culture. War—and nothing else.

  He spied a yellow-skinned alien with antenna tapping on a tablet as she walked. None of the Xen-Kroth gave her a second glance. Then he remembered the green minister with Kinthor and the blue woman working for Arda.

  They steal everything from other civilizations—even the people. He grimaced.

  Five hundred new modules are now available on Leaf Deck! Three and four bedrooms starting at 80 credits per month! Open to non-uniformed citizens. Walking distance from refinery ten and hydrogen cores 8 through 16!

  The vehicle stopped at the wall ending the massive channel through the ship. They exited and went to a door as tall and wide as a house. A line of guards in blue armor were before it with bulbous rifles slung over their shoulders. His guard tapped a key code and leaned forward for a retinal scan. A smaller hidden door an eighth of the size of the elevator opened for them. Janus stood between the two guards as the capsule-styled elevator lifted them.

  The doors opened to an apartment, but one far more expansive than Arda’s. He peeked outward. Neither of his guards made a move to exit. The one to his left glared at him.

  “Get out.”

  Janus stared a moment as though he didn’t understand. Then he inched forward. The guards remained in place. He looked at them more explanation.

  “Wait in there.” The guard thrust his satchel of clothes into his arms. “This is where you live now.”

  He stepped in gingerly. The elevator closed, almost pinching his back. Janus stayed planted front of it. His indignation was replaced by fear. Was Kinthor going to leap out and attack him?

  He craned his head to scan the open living room. It appeared more massive than Arda’s entire apartment. His timid feet brought him further in. There wasn’t a sound. He peered down the corridor leading to more rooms. No movement.

  Janus went by a giant sculpture of some horned animal. To his left was a gushing fountain made from a mosaic of gemstones. To his right was a kitchen thrice the size of Arda’s kitchenette. A niche close to a curved wall had a seating area in front of a large view screen.

  Janus moved onward into the corridor. Two closed doors flanked him. He tapped the panel on one and it opened to a bathroom. The door across had a small bedroom.

  He continued to the room at the end of the hallway. This massive bedroom had to belong to Kinthor. He had an enormous round bed on a platform. The remainder of of floor space was filled lush furniture.

  Janus went to the bathroom off of the bedroom’s back corner. It was vacant, the same as with all the other rooms.

  He let his shoulders slacken. Kinthor’s not here. His instinct was to get out of his bedroom, but something on the nightstand caught his eye.

  Janus sat on Kinthor’s bed (which was harder than he expected) and plucked a picture frame off the table. Rather than a single image, the unit displayed a slide show. Each photo lingered for five seconds and then was replaced.

  Janus became enraptured. He saw Kinthor standing before a multitude of stiffly lined Xen-Kroth troops. He wore full armor, not just the shoulder adornments he’d seen during their meeting. His expression was fierce as though he gave a stirring speech before battle.

  The picture drew up no emotion in Janus. This was exactly what he expected from the warlord.

  The next image was of Arda standing under a wide-bowed tree with a gigantic smile. Sunlight glinted on her cheeks.

  He supposed the two of them were close.

  After that was a portrait. Kinthor sat on the black cushioned throne he’d seen earlier with the green-skinned man at his side. Kinthor’s face was somber. The minister looked as though he laughed at a joke.

  Why was this high minister not a Xen-Kroth? Was he a famous genius from one of their conquered worlds? He remembered the yellow alien on the walkway. Why had they integrated other races onto their megaship?

  Janus shook his addled head. The intricacies of his conquerors weren’t of interest to him. He had his own compromised royal court to deal with.

  The next picture was of his father.

  Janus froze. Painful emotion beleaguered him at the sight. Why did this bastard have a photograph of him?

  It was a state photo, duller in color than the other pictures. King Shalen sat on his throne with a large smile that made his eyes crinkle around the edges. He wore a royal suit that looked baggy on him. His father had been a small man. Quiet and polite. He ruled with slow calculation, seeing a problem from all sides before acting.

  And he was happy. Janus’ chest clenched with a sob. Three months had past and his pain felt as raw as the night he died. He should have been on Sensicry, making things right.

  A picture with Kinthor, the green-skinned minister, and Arda came up next. The trio stood together smiling in the same sunny setting as Arda’s earlier photo.

  Janus put the frame back on the nightstand. He clutched his satchel of clothes against his chest.

  Why did this warlord have a picture of his father? He looked around the room while absorbing none of the imagery. Father told him Kinthor was a kind man. He was king who cared for his people, like himself, except with a more liberal attitude towards sex.

  He swore Kinthor hadn’t harmed him during his bodily surrender. Janus remembered him calling it a ‘revelation.’

  He sat on Kinthor’s bed and tried to wrap his head around things. His father gave him permission not to hate to their conquerors. He was glad not to have that burden on him. Now it seemed Kinthor really liked his father. His picture lived with other people he loved in his electronic frame.

>   Wasn’t it good that father hadn’t been hurt? He owed Kinthor gratitude for that. This same brute who’d treated him worse than a commoner had been kind to his father.

  A close-up of Kinthor’s face appeared on the frame. Janus picked it up. He was smiling, and no longer looked cruel. He stared the full five seconds before a new picture replaced it.

  At least father hadn’t been forced to submit to someone ugly. Even with the horns and odd coloration, yellow skin that turned red in the shadows of his cheekbones, around his eyes, and on his throat—Kinthor was attractive.

  Janus drew a deep sobering breath. Arda told him to stop being defiant. His father must have been submissive. He was incapable of animosity. If there was kindness inside of Kinthor, Shalen could find it. He took the worst of situations, their planet’s conquest, and turned it into something positive.

  Is that the attitude he had to have? Is that what would get him home to fix the mess in his court?

  He leaned forward with a despondent groan.

  It’s not fair.

  4

  Rodin had two squadrons lead him to the capital of Sensicry. For all he knew they were planning a revolt. The primitive world wouldn’t stand a chance against them, but still—sometimes madmen took power with no regard for the lives of their people.

  The ships landed on the surrounding pasture. Rodin landed his vessel right in the courtyard. He came out with a full complement of armed guards.

  The air was warm on the planet, the sky clear, and there was no hint of foul-smelling pollution. Rodin sucked in lungfuls while marveling over the primitive castle. It was grand in size, but had been made from stone and mortar.

  The twin brother of Kinthor’s new comfort slave led a procession out of the castle’s arcade. Unlike his brother he wore a regal suit with a golden sash for a belt and a fur-lined cape flowing over his shoulders. The crown on his blond head was not entangled in his hair.

  Three men followed the apparent king, one dressed as a nobleman was rotund and middle-aged with olive skin, the other two were guards but their weapons were fragile partisans that appeared ceremonial.