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The sound was the most awful part of all of it.
Or more to the point, lack of sound.
They watched her, in almost complete silence, all wide-eyed with wonder, and maybe a little pity.
The matrons had bound her hands behind her once more, their strong fingers gripping her about the upper arms. She could no longer bear to set eyes on the throng pressing close at either side of the path they followed. At least they’d freed her feet, allowing her to walk under her own power.
The mist was thicker, mingling with the rich, twisted boughs of the trees above them. Insects buzzed, birds chirping and screeching, the afternoon almost dripping with humidity.
The sweat poured from her body, both from the closeness of the air and from fright. Now and then, as the path snaked through still more watching, softly murmuring pixies, the faint hint of smoke could be detected on the air, the note of roasting meat making her mouth water.
It was absurd to be thinking of her hunger at that moment, but the food she’d been offered hadn’t been nearly enough. Perhaps focusing on her need for sustenance helped her subconscious avoid confronting the truth of her situation.
She was now in very serious trouble.
The garlands, as beautiful as they might have been, were like gazing upon the noose in the hangman’s gauntlet.
Selena knew what they meant.
The crowd thinned out, and they emerged from the threshold of their little village, the forest creeping in from all sides, the path overgrown in places. Bugs flitted at her ears and she shook her head, her hair whipping against her forehead.
Daring a glimpse behind her, she found the pixies had fanned out to either side of the edge of the village, as if none of them dared take a single step further down the path of doom she was being led down. Other than the two matrons and a procession of warriors—who appeared to be there either to protect them, or perhaps to deter any thoughts Selena might have of escape—they were alone, amid the buzz of the steaming forest.
The instant she saw it, she dug her boots into the dirt.
Oh, no.
It was the clearing. It was a view nearly identical to the one provided by the probe’s footage they’d watched only hours before.
Only now, it wasn’t some abstract scientific observation.
This was real—and it was happening to her.
To her right, a glittering pool of almost crystal clear water, the sides lined with weathered gray stone, could be seen. This was something the probe had not picked up at all, though it was possible it had been merely random chance that the pool had not been captured in the observation footage.
The matrons pulled her toward it, and it was then that Selena made her move. Operating on pure instinct, she shouldered her weight into the woman at her right, the female’s breath driven from her lungs with a surprised gasp as Selena crashed into her, knocking the matron to the ground.
Seemingly shocked, the other female let go of Selena’s arm, that moment of freedom one she didn’t squander a second of. Sprinting as fast as her bound arms allowed, her wrists behind her back making it surprisingly difficult to keep her balance as she ran, Selena bolted for the forest line just past the pool of water. If she could make it to the brush, she hoped the concealment would allow her the chance to hide long enough that she could sneak away from the pixies. She’d just have to hope she could find a rock or a sharp outcropping somewhere she could use to cut through the twine at her wrists.
Heart pounding, the adrenalin pumping through her veins reducing her sight to almost tunnel vision, focused on the salvation the thick undergrowth offered her, she was mere meters from the edge of the clearing when something wrapped itself about her lower legs. It instantly pulled tight, tangling her feet, her momentum sending her flopping facedown. Pain burst from her chest as she toppled over, her breasts grinding beneath her, her chin making hard contact with the ground, stars bursting behind her eyes. The taste of grit filled her mouth, and she shook her head, thankful the soil was soft and relatively thick.
Before she could so much as turn over, the warriors were upon her, lifting her into the air. Several were smiling, as if this were merely a pleasantly interesting diversion in their otherwise mundane stroll through the forest.
“You assholes!” she yelled, twisting her body as they held her. “Let me... go! Fuck!” She tried to kick at them, their whoops and laughter only driving her anger and frustration higher.
She’d been so close!
Wasting little time, they carted her back over to the pool, dumping her unceremoniously to the ground, more laughter rippling through the ranks of the warriors.
Rolling, she sat up, drawing her knees up, trying to get her feet under her again despite the fact something resembling a jungle vine was still tangled around her ankles.
How did that get around my legs?
Then one of the warriors crouched before her, his brief cloth hanging down between his thighs. A hand gripped her chin and forced her head up.
It was the same young man who’d betrayed her earlier.
Hissing, she ripped her chin from his grip, scowling at him.
He merely smiled, his fingers playing in the folds of his cloth, bringing forth a narrow strap made of something that looked much like well-worn leather. Holding the strap before her, his smile faded instantly, the male slowly shaking his head.
The message was clear, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. He could take his message and shove it up his fucking ass.
He nodded to someone behind her, and strong hands wrapped under her arms, drawing her up to her feet.
Then those same hands began drawing down the zipper of her jumpsuit. She gasped, stunned for a moment at what was happening. Spinning around, she tried to back away, but collided with the male’s chest. He held her by the arms as one of the other warriors brusquely drew down the zipper, strong hands opening her jumpsuit wide. She struggled against his grip, but he held her fast, only letting go of one arm at a time to allow the other warrior to pull it from her suit. The air was humid and surprisingly pleasant against her sweaty skin, but that didn’t stop her from trying anything to make her degradation stop.
She pushed and kicked, only succeeding in getting further warriors to step in and finish her forcible disrobing.
Rather than take her underwear off, they cut it from her body with tiny knives, making her gasp in mortification as her breasts bounced free, heat bursting at her cheeks. She pulled futilely at the bonds holding her hands at her back, the urge to cover her breasts from their avaricious gazes almost overpowering.
But it was no use. She was helpless.
They finished by pulling her boots and socks off as well, leaving her completely nude.
For a moment, they held her between them, her utterly naked and defenseless, them clothed and gloating over her humiliation.
How far she had fallen—in more ways than one—in the space of mere hours!
The warrior who’d betrayed her in favor of his sister, held her by the upper arm then, guiding her toward the pool. She balked at the edge though. The water looked clean enough, but without the use of her hands, the idea of stepping into it was out of the question. What if it was too deep? How could she swim without the use of her hands?
Such considerations were apparently immaterial to the male holding her though, the strap prodding at her naked hip, urging her forward. She twisted instinctively, her feet scrabbling at the edge of the pool.
With a sigh, the male drew her down, kicking her feet out from under her, making her slip into the pool, the water cool but not frigid against her skin. Rather than throw her fully in though, he forced her to bend over the side of the pool, resting her upper body across the ground, the water lapping at her knees.
Stinging fire burst once, twice, a third time across her bare ass, and she cried out, her cheek against the dirt.
“Mother... Fucker!”
Three more cracks, in rapid succession, burned across her buttocks, and she grunted against the rising pain.
Then he waited, and Selena froze, unsure what was happening, the presence of the onlookers watching her subjugation making her suddenly dread the possibility that something much worse than a strapping could be forced upon her next.
The pale warrior—in her mind, she called him Ghost—crouched before her once more, pulling her head up by the hair. He met her gaze, his seemingly perpetual smile lighting up his face once more. She hated him more because he was attractive, that he seemed to enjoy his duties so much, his wide-eyed eagerness almost boyish.
He held the strap before her once more. “Hukama leo tujaka, ne. Hokala?”
She didn’t speak a word of his language, but somehow the meaning was loud and clear.
Cooperate, or else.
But what was she cooperating in?
I think you know the answer to that, Selena.
Paving the way for her own sacrifice was bad enough. But the unknown of what that sacrifice actually entailed was somehow even worse.
Still, what choice did she have? She had to buy time until she could locate Lieutenant Strabo. It was clear the sacrifices weren’t actually killed. But that knowledge was cold comfort.
There were any number of exceedingly unpleasant things that could be perpetrated upon her, short of taking her life.
In her mind, she recited one of the lessons from her survival training in pilot school.
As long as you’re alive, you’ve still got a chance to escape. No matter how bad your situation gets, stay alive. Do anything you have to in order to stay alive.
Ghost tapped the strap against her cheek. “Hokala?”
She nodded reluctantly.
His broad smile beamed triumphantly, and he pulled her—gently this time—to her feet. Guiding her to the center of the pool, he held up his finger for her, beckoning to one of the matrons. The female produced a wooden cup, engraved with elaborate patterns, from the folds of her robe, handing it to Ghost.
With slow, deliberate movements, he dipped the cup into the pool, pouring the water over her shoulders, rivulets of it cascading down between her naked breasts. Her nipples hardened to stone instantly, and she shivered. Over and over, he did this, in a way that bespoke something bordering reverence. He conspicuously avoided her hair, which was a small mercy. Still, it was a truly mortifying process, standing, naked and bound, before a throng of savages, being ritualistically bathed for reasons she couldn’t possibly fathom.
Her embarrassment amplified still further when Ghost took particular care with dripping several cupfuls across her chest, his big eyes watching with fascination as her nipples, so hard they almost ached, stood out obscenely, dark pink bullets saluting the ministrations of the cool water coursing down her shivering flesh.
The front of his loincloth tented visibly as he washed her this way, and she looked away, closing her eyes at the sight of several of the other male warriors exhibiting similar, quite physical... responses, to her treatment.
Stay alive. Just get through this.
Ghost returned the cup to the matron, Selena relieved to see her ordeal appeared to be at its end.
It was anything but.
Ghost waded into the pool next to her then, and she shied away, her feet threatening to slip on the slick rocks she stood upon. Taking station behind her, Ghost grasped her arm firmly, standing quite close before her. He held up a hand, flat, palm out. He gestured, turning his palm down toward the ground, then tilting it back up again.
She wasn’t certain what he meant, but it appeared he meant to lay something down.
What the hell is happening here?
A hand closed in the loose locks of her hair, and she was plunged suddenly face first into the water. She struggled against the grip, panic threatening to overtake her.
No! Oh, God, no!
Just as quickly, she was lifted from the water.
Before she could say a word, he plunged her back in again. Using every ounce of willpower she had, she stayed still.
He kept her underwater longer this time, and she couldn’t help but begin to push against the hand holding her head under.
Then he yanked her up again.
“Stop! I can’t—!”
A third time she went into the water, and all pretenses at cooperation were gone. She twisted and pushed against the bottom, but his grip was surprisingly strong, and all she succeeded in doing was painfully pulling the roots of her hair, the sting hot and bright.
Let me up! Let me up! Oh, fuck!
Mercifully, he did, just at the moment her lungs began to protest at the lack of oxygen.
She spluttered water, coughing, her nose stinging.
Ghost smiled at her, smoothing her dripping hair away from her eyes.
It was a ritual. A baptism—an archaic Terran tradition—was what came immediately to mind, but that didn’t quite fit. This was more of a... preparation.
But preparation for what?
Not giving her time to contemplate it further, Ghost drew her out of the pool, the water almost instantly ice cold against her skin. Her nipples throbbed; her face burned with her embarrassment as Ghost’s inquisitive gaze dropped to the erect tips.
His arousal, if anything, had only grown more prominent.
But instead of taking advantage of her total vulnerability he did something else entirely. He bowed before her, placing his hand over his chest. With one last little flash of his eyes, he stepped back into the crowd of waiting warriors.
A matron stepped close then, draping the flower garlands over her. Selena instinctively wanted to resist, but any covering was better than nothing, especially surrounded by a gaggle of leering males, their erections still quite prominent.
The flowers hid very little, her nipples clearly visible amongst the petals if one were to look closely enough. But the flowers around her waist at least concealed her sex, at the price of leaving most of her buttocks bared.
A low vocalization began to rumble from the gathered males, a subtle hum at first, slowly rising to a rhythmic chant.
The matrons took hold of her arms again, leading her away from the pool.
And at that moment, Selena saw it.
It was the cave.