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“I don’t know what you call this, but I’ve never had anything this good in my life.” She took another succulent bite of the soft purple fruit, more sweet juices running down her chin.
“It’s called a qunna,” Malcolm said, seated across the table from her. “The matakee-ra cultivate it. One of my favorites.”
The depression in the tree was more of a cave in itself, a huge space cut into the trunk of a truly immense tree, its size dwarfing even the very largest giant sequoia back on Terra. A nice table and benches had been hewn out of it next to the bed, and it was there that Malcolm laid out the tray of fruits and vegetables for her.
“I knew you’d have to be ravenous.”
It was true too—she really didn’t know how long it had been since she’d eaten. She had no real idea of how long she’d been on the surface of the planet, or how many hours that translated to in Terran years (the planet rotated somewhat faster than Terra, but she couldn’t recall the exact length of a day).
“Yes, this is... my lord, this is soo juicy.” Another bite and the qunna was finished. Her belly felt full, finally, a satiation and contentment that somehow went far beyond mere caloric replenishment.
The slightly more modest garlands helped; the memory of how many orgasms she’d just had, staked on his huge cock, helped some more.
That doesn’t matter, Selena. Get that shit out of your head.
But it did. Oh, it mattered very much.
More than that though, it was the feeling that... she was going to be okay. That her world had finally found some equilibrium.
He hadn’t hurt her—not really—and in fact, he’d probably saved her from a ghastly, slow death wandering those caverns in vain. She might never have found her way out. Indeed, she still didn’t know which way ‘out’ really was. It could have been right out of the proverbial frying pan and into the fire of captivity with the primitive pixies—the matakee-ra, as he dubbed them.
She licked the sticky, tart juices from her fingers. “If you could take that back to Terra you’d make a killing.”
Malcolm’s eyes darkened. “Qunna is never to be taken from this planet. It is not some commodity to be bought and sold.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, shrugging. “I didn’t meant to offend. It’s just damned good.”
“Do you feel better then?” The clouds behind his eyes cleared a bit.
“Much.” She hugged herself under her breasts, loving the soft caress of the garland’s flower petals against her skin, even as she wished they covered just a little more of her flesh.
But much still weighed on her mind. His words, what he’d said to her as he took her... it haunted her. And it was at the same time, a way toward accepting what had happened—and accepting herself.
There were other more pressing matters at hand though.
“Malcolm, I need to know—if you know. My crew? They’ve got to still be out there. Are they?”
He nodded. “They are—and they will remain safe here. As long as their behavior warrants it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He stood then, walking toward the edge, the verdant rolling valley sprawling in the background. His broad, muscled back to her, his round, compact buttocks flexed as he stretched his arms overhead. “You know exactly what it means. We both know they will try to take you.”
“They’re my crew, my friends. They’ll be worried about me...”
She didn’t have the heart to tell her captor that they were really her only friends left. It had never been a thought she’d openly anatomized, but part of the appeal of being a pilot was the isolation, in being away from it all.
It also meant she could conveniently ignore the real truth at the heart of her desire to make it as a cruiser jockey.
She’d never really felt... at home. Not anywhere. It was far easier—more comfortable—to keep everyone at arm’s length. To never truly let anyone get to know the real her. Did she really even know herself?
Sure, she’d had boyfriends, lovers—but did they really know what made Selena Marks tick beyond what got her off? Not a single one.
How many of them knew all the nights she lay awake in bed, trying to pinpoint the disquiet that had troubled her heart, her soul, for as long as she could remember.
She’d never quite fit in—which made launching herself into the solitary life of interstellar space travel the perfect fit.
Of everyone she’d ever known, it was only Langley who’d gotten to her, who spotted—if only for fleeting moments—her vulnerability, her fear at being a piece of the puzzle that had no place in the larger picture, rootless, drifting in search of a purpose.
Her craving for meaning.
But Langley, rather than explore it with her, used it against her. He saw her vulnerability as a ploy, an inside track to use in more fully bending her to his will.
Yes, she’d liked that too—but only because, ironically, that was itself a shield she could put up between her and anyone truly knowing her.
Langley was a predator, yes, but in his own way he’d shone a spotlight on many truths about her makeup. And the hard, ugly truth about who Selena Marks really was inside.
“I will make sure no harm ever comes to your crew. I pledge it to you.” He turned back to her then, the heavy penis, recumbent, swinging languidly between his massive thighs. “But you will be staying here. With me.”
“They’ll try to find me.”
“That will not matter.”
There was no way a rescue had been dispatched yet. Standard protocol was that when a survey vessel’s CentCom went down, a rescue would automatically be launched. But there had been instances in the past where what looked like a total shutdown had instead been a bad transmitter, or simple stellar interference preventing the vessel’s CentCom from being visible on the fleet-wide UTCS active missions register.
So, there might be some delay before confirmation would be assured that something had in fact befallen the Gambier Bay. On the other hand, the Gambier Bay was practically a brand-new vessel, on only its second mission since shakedown—which made it highly unlikely there was a malfunction or failure of the transmitter.
Lifeboats were equipped with supplies sufficient to keep the occupant alive for up to fourteen days—with proper rationing—which would normally be more than enough to last until a rescue arrived.
At worst, there might be several more days before a rescue vessel would be on station. But it was also entirely possible a rescue was already in orbit at that very moment.
Until she could somehow verify the presence of a rescue, she would have to trust that Malcolm would keep his word. There was little choice in the matter.
“You can’t keep me here, Malcolm. Let me go home.”
“Impossible.”
“They won’t give up looking for me. You must know that.”
It was both a comfort and an increasing source of anxiety, though there was no way she could answer precisely why that was.
He advanced on her, until he towered over her, all those hard muscles and his male scent making her mouth water along with... other regions of her body.
Damn him!
He tipped her chin up with one hand, forcing her to look at him.
“You belong here now, Selena.”
“I belong on Terra. My home. Please let me go.”
Even her own words rang hollow though, for she was no longer sure where home really was anymore.
Because for the first time in her entire life that feeling of not belonging, of being the puzzle piece that never quite fit... was gone.
Unfortunately for you, that doesn’t change the truth of things. Does it?