D2-670A
Part 13
"This isn't over, you fucking slut. I just want you to know that," spat Marcus.
"I will hunt you to the ends of this pitiful dimen..."
Daphne silenced Marcus' rantings by stuffing a filthy rag into his mouth and
then smoothing five readied strips of tape across the lower half of his face.
She stood, wearing his shirt and pants, and theatrically dusted her hands off
for his benefit. For a moment, she enjoyed his half naked, angry reaction -
which consisted of no more than a slight squirm within the confines of his wrist
to ankle hogtie - and then turned in the direction of the exit.
Although she was far from sure, Daphne believed she had gotten all the
information she was going to get out of Marcus. He had refused to say anything
at first, but a couple of sharp blows to his wounded shoulder had convinced him
otherwise. She'd thought she would have trouble forcing the information out of
him, but she had surprised herself by finding it almost a pleasurable experience
to lay into the man who had been responsible for her attempted torture. Marcus
had confirmed Rene's story about her being his runaway slave, but did not know
where she was currently located. He assumed she had been kidnapped - along with
another of his slaves named Kitara - by the men who had attacked them all at
Daphne's apartment. About Shana and Heather, he knew nothing.
But the most important information that Rene had obtained from Marcus was how to
use the processor block she now held in her right hand. It was silent at the
moment, but he had assured her that the moment she got within a 30 mile radius
of Rene or Kitara, it would register their respective presences.
Now all she needed to do was figure out where she was, find transport, and start
scouring the city. With any luck, and with tracker firmly in hand, she hoped to
be able to locate Rene by the end of the day.
With any luck.
Daphne made it as far as gripping the exit door's handle when it was suddenly
thrust inward and the hulking form of Rufus slammed into her. Daphne yelped in
surprise as the two of them went down together. She struggled to get out from
beneath Rufus' weight, terrified that she had again been caught. Both of her
arms were pinned, but she pushed with all her might, trying to get an arm free
to reach for the weapon tucked into the waistband of Marcus' commandeered pants.
She suddenly realized that Rufus was not fighting back. Pausing, she glanced up
to see that his face was battered and bruised. His right eye was swollen
completely shut, his lip was split nastily, and blood obscured the remainder of
his face. He looked like he was barely clinging to consciousness.
She heard a voice. "Well well. Look what we have here."
A shadow blocked out the light from the doorway. "What kind of Male gets himself
bound by a lowly slave?" An indignant grunt from the direction of Marcus was the
shape's only reply.
"Please ..." Daphne begged. "He's crushing me."
The shape clicked his fingers and stepped aside. Three other men wearing bad
Hawaiian shirts and sunglasses stepped into the warehouse. They bent and grabbed
Rufus underneath his arms. He groaned as they pulled him to his feet. Free from
the big man's crushing weight, Daphne's hand wrapped around the grip of the
stolen energy weapon. She almost drew it, but she was unsure exactly what was
unfolding above her. Were the newcomers friend or foe?
Either way, she appeared to be forgotten for the moment. The leader had stepped
across to hover above Marcus, and the other three men were in the process of
lowering Rufus to the floor.
"You led us a merry chase, Marcus. But then, I assume that's because you know
the penalty for unauthorized retrieval attempts."
Marcus again grunted through the gag Daphne had placed over his mouth.
"I'd help you out with that gag, Marcus, but I don't think it would serve any
purpose - given that I'm about to have you executed by order of The Council."
The leader glanced over his shoulder and nodded to his subordinates. Two of the
men instantly moved over to haul Marcus up, so that his bent, hogtied legs
dangled a full eighteen inches off the ground.
Daphne never heard what the leader next said to Marcus. Her attention was
suddenly caught by a nearby whispered voice. "Give me ... the gun."
Rufus' eyes were open and his hand was extended toward her. He looked far more
coherent than he had a moment ago, and Daphne realized that he had been
"sand-bagging". Her gaze flickered over Rufus to take in what the others in the
warehouse were doing. She almost gasped aloud as she saw the leader had produced
his own energy weapon and had it pressed against her ex-captor's forehead.
"Marcus Cerillio, I hereby sentence you to death in accordance with Rule 86 of
The Council's Decleration - for the crime of unauthorized interdimensional
retrieval."
"We're next, girl," Rufus hissed. "So give me the weapon!"
Daphne hovered uncertainly. How could she possibly give the weapon back to one
of the men responsible for kidnapping her? But what if he was right? What if by
failing to act now she was effectively condemning herself to death? Of course,
there was always the option that she could draw the gun and fire, but she wasn't
sure she could take another life so easily. And that was even assuming she fired
the gun correc -
Daphne's whirl of thoughts was interrupted by the sizzle of an energy weapon
being fired. She looked up in time to see Marcus' head snap back, and fragments
of skull and brain explode across the concrete floor of the warehouse behind
him. Daphne reacted without further conscious thought. She gripped the weapon
more firmly and slid it across the short distance between herself and Rufus. In
one smooth motion, the big man pounced on the weapon, turned and fired - even
before the Hawaiian shirts had registered the threat.
The first of the men was blown clean of his feet, his chest all but hollowed out
by the first pulse of pure energy. The leader swung around to return fire, but
before he could squeeze his trigger, a second bolt of energy tore past his left
side - close enough to sizzle away the clothing and melt the skin beneath. He
crumpled to the floor, but Daphne could not tell if he was dead, because she,
too, was moving. Shots boomed around her as she dived behind the relative cover
of a stack of crates. (Relative, because she was under no illusions as to what
would happen if a blast hit the crate against which she leant). More shots
howled through the warehouse in quick succession, until, finally, silence
descended.
Daphne swallowed hard, wondering if she should check to see if anyone was left
standing. Instead, it was all she could do to look down at her hands and press
them hard together to stop their involuntary shaking.
She only looked up when Rufus lumbered around the corner, his huge hands
outstretched and grasping for her.
*****
Kitara had found the loose end of rope after only a few seconds of exploring her
bonds. She'd been trying so hard to wait for her new Master to return, but as
the minutes had ticked into hours (or at least what felt like hours), she'd
found herself becoming restless. And after the restlessness had come the aching
muscles.
Kitara had put up with the discomfort for as long as she'd been able. She'd
rolled over onto her front, fought to find some extra slack in the hogtying
rope, squirmed onto her back, bit down on the rubber filling her mouth,
alternately relaxed her arms and legs - anything to take her mind off the
growing muscular aches. Finally, the aches had given way to mounting pain, and
Kitara had known that if she wasn't freed soon, she was going to be less than
useless in terms of pleasuring her Master when he eventually returned.
So with that justification firmly in mind, Kitara had begun checking the ropes
binding her for any hope of escape.
And now, only moments later, it seemed she held the key to that escape in the
tips of her questing fingers.
Could her new Master really have been so careless in binding her? He'd certainly
been in a rush, but surely no-one could make such an obvious mistake?
Kitara pulled on the rope and gasped into her gag as her legs were suddenly
released from their bent, hog-tied position. She paused to allow the blood to
rush back into her starved lower limbs, and then noted that the rope holding her
hands seemed looser. She tried pulling her hands apart and was again surprised
as the bindings easily gave way.
Now there could no doubt. Her Master had deliberately left her with the means of
escape. No matter how hard she tried, Kitara could not understand why He would
allow such a thing. She could guess that this was some bizarre type of game that
took place in this dimension. Perhaps now she was meant to find Him and beg to
be punished for giving into temptation and escaping?
Or, Kitara thought as her tingling hands unbuckled the penis gag and pulled it
from her mouth, perhaps I'm supposed to be hiding so that He can find me and
then punish me.
The petite redhead decided to let the door to the room be her answer. If it was
locked, she was meant to wait. If not, she may as well have been commanded to
move beyond.
At least, that was what she told herself when the door knob turned in her hand.
Grimacing with uncertainty, Kitara took three tentative steps into the corridor
beyond her cell, and closed the door behind her.
*****
Christian sighed for perhaps the hundredth time and tried to find a more
comfortable position to rest in.
He sat, naked except for his boxer shorts, on the edge of the room's bed, held
in place by a set of handcuffs that had been latched around his ankle and to the
bed's iron frame whilst he was unconscious. He still wasn't quite sure how he'd
allowed himself to be jumped so easily, but the basic fact of the matter was
that it had happened. It was his mistake, and certainly not one that he planned
to make again. Although he was going to make sure that a certain upstart
prisoner did more than her fair share of explaining once he got his hands on
her.
It was a pleasing thought, and one that helped pass the time.
When Christian had first woken up, he'd made every effort to break free of the
simple restraint. The bed, however, was bolted to the floor, and he was not
stupid enough to believe he could simply slip a foot out of a ratcheting
handcuff. He'd also tried calling for a while - knowing full well that the
guards did not actually stand outside the door to the cells. Instead, one was
supposed to check each prisoner every three hours.
Christian knew this, because it was the system he had implemented as Head of
Security. In essence, it saved on time and manpower, but it was also standard
company policy to keep the predominantly female captives bound and gagged in
their cells. So what point was there in having guards outside each door? Some of
the cells were even equipped with small security cameras, and it was just
Christian's luck that this particular cell did not appear to be one of those.
So he had waited while time crawled by. Besides wondering what the escaped woman
was doing, and fantasizing about her eventual capture, Christian time and again
found his thoughts returning to Kitara. The petite red head had sparked
something in him - of that there was no doubt. It was just that whatever had
been sparked was so unfamiliar that Christian did not actually know what it was.
Her look, submissiveness, and the way she writhed against the ropes binding her
had all whispered volumes to him. But it was the delight she had taken when he
had treated her with relative gentleness ("relative" compared to that usually
afforded the female captives of Davidson Global), that had cemented the
attraction he felt toward her.
A practical man, Christian did not normally believe in fate. On this occasion,
however, it almost seemed as if she had been trained to be his slave, and his
alone.
In other words, it instinctively felt right.
Christian was broken from his reverie at the sound of his cell door being
unlocked. A moment later, a gaping guard stood in the doorway. "Sir?"
Christian waved the implicit question away. "Just go and sound the alarm,
Aronsky. We have an escaped slave on our hands. She is to be recaptured alive.
Understand?"
Aronsky nodded. He paused uncertainly for a moment longer.
"The alarm first. Free me second, Aronsky."
The guard scampered away. Christian could tell from the look on his face that
word of his indiscretion would soon be all over the building. This was not
something he was going to live down quickly.
*****
