There was a war in her universe, the last war, the great 'us versus them' war that humanity was fighting to maintain its right to survival. But that is a long story that won't be told here. It's not what you want to know about, anyway, is it?

What happened was this: She was fighting. Her first knife found its way to the throat of one of the enemy, and it went down. The second one, she lodged in the chitin-covered leg of another. She lost her spear in its chest; she thrust it in and couldn't pull it out. So she pulled out her gun. A handgun. A semi-automatic .45, to be precise. She thought, "I wish I was somewhere else," just as one of them came up behind her and smashed its clawed arm into the back of her head.

When she woke up, she was indeed somewhere else.

She was outside, for one thing. The floor and encompassing walls of her spaceborne ship were gone. She could see the sky, which was blue, and the sun, which was bright. It was warm. She blinked.

Am I dead? she thought. She sat up, then got to her feet and looked over herself. She didn't seem wounded. She was wearing her favorite black turtleneck, her tailored black pants, her sturdy black boots. She still had her combat vest on, fat lot of good it did her. Her holster and knife sheathes were at her belt, but they were empty, and her weapons were nowhere to be seen.

She looked around. She was in what looked like a town square. It was then that she became aware of the noise, the bustling, dull roar of people carrying on with their daily lives, as though there wasn't a war. As though there had never been a war.

She blinked again, a deep, intense rage welling up in the pit of her stomach. How could they be acting like this when her people were dying every day in this hellish war? But that thought was cut short as she spotted a couple walking by.

'A couple' was not the right description. It was a well-dressed man leading a scantily-clad woman. On a leash. She stared. The man was leading the woman toward an auction stage. She knew it was one, because above the stage was a banner proclaiming proudly, "Slave Auction", which she had no trouble reading.

She took an unconscious step back, still staring. Another pair walked by, this time a woman leading a leashed man. On the stage, she could a girl being collared and pushed forward.

That was when she knew this wasn't her universe. It couldn't be. There was no such thing as slavery where she came from, only 'them', and 'us'. She looked around the square, spotting a few more in various stages of dress, with collars around their necks declaring them, "SLAVEBOY" or "SLAVEGIRL".

She cringed and hurried out of the square, picking a road and heading west. At least, she thought it was west. She hadn't been on land for a long time, but she knew her directions, and she knew she needed to get out of there.

She kept walking, hurrying along until she had left the edges of the town. Flat, empty road stretched out in front of her, so she continued, until she saw the massacre.

There was a military station here. At least, it looked like one. Men and women in uniform, all slaughtered, shell casing scattered about the ground. The bodies had been there for awhile, based on the dust and dirt that had accumulated, but were oddly preserved. She took a breath and, against her better judgment, went inside.

There were more bodies. She kept going, pushing open a door. There was a stairwell. She followed it. And as she kept going, she saw a large, bright ball of light, big enough for someone to walk into. It was strange, and she was drawn to it. She walked in.

On the other side, she walked into a great, barren plain. The world was dim, as though in eternal twilight, and smelled almost dangerous. She felt homesick suddenly, and decided to walk around and explore.

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When she came upon the cave, her exploratory curiosity was piqued. She went inside, looking around the small cavern. It was small and dark. Bones littered the floor, strewn in the manner of someone uncouth sating its hunger. There didn't seem to be anything of particular interest, so she turned back around to leave, and saw him standing in the cavern's entrance.

He was tall and handsome in a cold, chiseled sort of way. A fitted duster coat was slipped over his urbane attire, and something about him seemed imposing, almost menacing. His build was lean, with taut, stringy muscle apparent even through his layered attire. Messy brown hair topped his head in abundance, and he had a firm, angular jaw that held the faint shadow of stubble. The striking eyes in his pale face were a piercing green, and they were fixed on her.

He'd been tracking her almost since she entered this side of the light. This side was Starside, and it was the residence of the monsters of the night. He'd smelled her humanity and feminity, all the smells that attracted him, and he followed that scent until he saw her.

She was slender, willowy and not very tall--five feet and one or two inches, perhaps, but with long legs and proud posture that made her seem taller. Her clothes were form-fitting save for the vest, which muted the curves her ample bust and narrow waist. Her hair was pitch black and silky straight, framing her heart-shaped face to the middle of her back and fluttering with the wind. The darkness of her hair contrasted prettily with her smooth, taut skin, which was a light pink shade that was almost pearly white. When she finally turned around and looked at him, he could see her the small, pretty features of her face. Her large, long-lashed eyes were a shade of grey so deep it was almost violet, and they studied him as he blocked the exit.

A moment of silence passed, where she thought, How long has he been there? I didn't hear him. I didn't think there was anyone out here.

She recovered herself, and addressed him simply, a slight tremor in her clear, musical voice. "Hello."

He smiled, but it was a wolfish, dangerous smile that just touched the edges of his thin lips. "Hello, Ally. What are you doing out here? It's dangerous, you know. There are a lot of wild animals in this area." His voice was low, quiet, predatory. It sounded gravelly and dark, as though greased with cigarettes.

She started, and took a surprised step back. He matched that step, maintaining his proximity to her, but did not advance further. After a pause, she replied somewhat stand-offishly, "I was just walking around. I hadn't seen anything dangerous. Creepy and strange, yes, but nothing dangerous." She hesitated a moment, then demanded, "How do you know my name?"

The wolfish smile on his face became bigger, and suddenly, he blurred. A chill went down her spine. In an instant, he moved from the cavern exit to right in front of her. A cold hand touched her chin, tilting her head up and forcing her to look up at him. She realized he was quite a bit taller than her. He chuckled. "Interesting."

She jerked out of his grasp and took a step back, then another, hands reaching into her holster and knife sheaths. He didn't follow. Chagrin crossed her face as she remembered she was weaponless. "What's interesting?" she asked, trying to buy herself some time. She subtly shifted her weight, preparing to run.

"Interesting that you think you can flee," he said, taking a step forward and melting into a nearby shadow. She took off, but found herself suddenly grasped from behind after no more than a step. One cold hand touched her chin, pulling her by the neck and holding her against him. His other hand shredded the shoulders of her vest in no more than an instant. As it fell to the ground, his hand found its way to her breast, fondling her. Another chuckle sounded in her ear. "I did warn you there were wild animals here."

The whole thing only took a few seconds.

She was stunned, and couldn't understand what had happened. The shock blanked her mind for almost a minute, letting him basically have free reign with her for that period before she blinked, and her survival instinct kicked in. She thrust her arm backward in a sharp jab toward the man's stomach with the full force of years of combat training.

He simply chuckled again and took his exploring hand off her breast to catch her arm mid-jab, twisting it behind her back in a painful lock. "You'd best stop now. You don't want to make me angry." He pushed her twisted arm painfully for emphasis. Without waiting for a response, he took his other hand off her neck, digging into his coat for something.

As soon as his other hand moved, she took the opportunity to bend and turn her body, trying to get out of the armlock and kicking backward at him. The kick landed solidly on his thigh, but he was faster. In one smooth motion, he followed her, keeping her arm pinned, and forced her to the ground, cuffing her hands behind her and paralyzing her legs with the weight of his body. She panicked then, starting to scream for help, and for him to let her go.

He was angry she had managed to strike him, and his words came out coldly. "There's not a soul on this side who'd keep me from my prey, girl. Scream all you want." He looked down and realized that, perhaps, she hadn't actually lost her wits. There was a hairpin in her long fingers, and she was trying to pick the lock on her handcuffs. He smirked and snatched the pin from her, tossing it aside and out of reach. "That was naughty, Ally. Just know you deserve this."

He put a hand in the pocket of his coat, taking out a switchblade. He flicked it open, and pressed the blade against her slit. With a smooth, practiced motion, he sliced through the cloth of her pants and the panties beneath. Then he slipped the knife back into his pocket, put both hands on either side of the cloth flaps, and ripped.

He exposed her supple white bottom and sat back to watch her squirm.

Now, she was truly afraid. She was shivering and humiliated. The screams for help came from the pit of her stomach and echoed against the cavern walls.

He took his time unzipping his pants, enjoying her screams. Subduing her to this point had made him hard, but he wanted to make this last. One hand slipped his engorged, rather large member out, while the other reached out to explore her slit.

He realized something interesting then: her hymen was still intact. A vicious grin split his face, and without warning, he slammed the whole length of himself into her, pushing through the tightness to reach all the way in. He let out a groan; it'd been awhile since he'd had someone this tight.

The force made her stop screaming and gasp instead. A wave of mixed pain and humiliated pleasure washed over her as he filled her. Tears started rolling from her eyes to drop onto the dirty floor of the cavern, matched on the other end by pearls of blood dripping from her broken hymen.

He withdrew from her, pressing his tip against her bloody slit teasingly, letting it lubricate him. She shuddered, and, as though he'd been waiting for that, he forced himself back into her, beginning a continuous assault that elicited whimpering moans and cries from her. He put his hands on her hips, forcing her to ride his thrusts and adjusting her to angle deeper and deeper into her. A deep groan escaped his chest, rife with pleasure.

The assault filled her with shame; she could do nothing to stop him, and, what was more, it felt good, as though she had wanted this. She tried to maintain control over herself, pulling away from him and clenching her muscles to force him out, but this only served to inflame him. Her body was responding to his ministrations; clear fluids mixed with her blood, making her slick and even easier to violate. Her back arched, letting him in further and forcing her to moan.

He could feel the shudders and quivering from inside her, and he could feel his own climax on him. His thrusts grew fiercer and faster, and he grabbed her by the hair and whispered in her ear, "Cum for me, girl. Your master commands it." He felt her try to shake her head and tightened his grip, holding his own pinnacle at bay while he continued to force the girl.

She tried to hold back, filled with dread as she thought of what might come of this. "No-- please--" she cried, but the pleasure overwhelmed her, and she did.

Then he felt it too, and heard the deep moan come out of her chest, and came with her, unloading himself with a satisfied groan. It took quite awhile for him to deposit himself completely in her. The wicked grin remained on his face as he pulled out of her, creamy white fluid leaking from her slit.

He wasn't finished.

He pulled off his belt. She didn't have a collar, but that didn't bother him. He buckled the belt around her neck, uncontested by her currently limp form, and slapped her bottom hard. "Up, girl. You're coming with me."

She looked up at him. Her face was smeared with dirt and tears, and she looked generally pitiful. She shook her head.

His eyes narrowed, and he yanked on the makeshift leash. "You're coming with me, little bitch. Up, now."

She sobbed. "I--I'm-- not--" she hiccupped. He yanked on the leash before she could finish, just starting to drag her whether she got up or not. The belt was sturdy and held her weight. He dragged her over every rock in their path until she got up and stumbled along behind him, insisting, "I'm not a slave." He responded by yanking the belt forward and grabbing her hair, dragging her along.

He moved quickly, and while dragging her, melted into shadows here and there with her in tow. It was only a few minutes before they arrived at an ominous-looking mansion. Still grasping her hair, he dragged her in with him, into a warm rumpus room that would look quite normal save for the various paddles, whips and gags in one corner. Her eyes fell over the panel with a sharp inhalation, but he didn't let her have a chance to catch her breath.

He dragged her over to a padded waist-high table and threw her on it. Before she could recover herself, he bent her over it and locked its manacles over her wrist, one on each corner, then forced her legs open, locking them in to manacles attached to either table leg and leaving her completely exposed from behind. He smirked, flipping out the switchblade again.

With exaggerated care, he sliced her shirt, the remnants of her pants, and her boots down their seams. The knife was sharp and the cuts smooth. He was finished in just a few minutes.

"You'll be staying with me from now on," he said, tossing clothing scraps aside and standing in front of her. She noticed that he had a gold ring on his hand engraved with the word, "Master". He reached out and patted her on the head, and left.