the one with a space sex slave ring--
For nearly three decades, both sides of the battle respected this neutrality.          Â
But Iotaâs land was still quite fertile, unmarred by violence and carnage, and Iotians were a primarily peaceful, and inherently trustful people who had no reason to consider building their own weapons. Desperate times called for desperate measures; thus, the planet was invaded.
All things considered, they were lucky. Human ships were the first to descend on the planet. If the Lobites had been the first to arrive, there was no question that they would have slaughtered every man, woman, and child on sight and without hesitation. Iotians, after all, had the misfortune or sharing a similar biology to humans. Humanoid in appearance, the only indication that they were anything but were the markings on their skin that varied for each individual, intricate, naturally formed tattoos that mapped family history.
Nevertheless, it was humans who came first, and, later, some would claim that death would have been the better alternative.
The humans were initially diplomatic, but they usually were. Where Lobites had no qualms with showing their true nature, humans tended to be more tactful. They were kind to the Iotians to earn their trust, but when it became clear that the locals had no plans on choosing a side in the war, let alone the human side, their manner changed. More starships appeared from where they had been hiding behind Iotaâs moons.
It was a fairly clean takeover, with hardly any bloodshed. There had been no way for the Iotians to truly defend themselves, and those that tried to fight to protect their land were made into gruesome public examples. Any battles that ensued didnât last longer than a fortnight, and Iota was soon under human control.
At first, the humans didnât know what to do with the Iotians. They refused to join the war, but they also refused to do much else. Since the invasion, most stopped tending to the finicky crops and livestock so that the invaders could not reap what they had sowed. They might have been a peaceful people, but they were also about as stubborn as the elephant oxen that were also native to the planet.
To humans, Iotians seemed to be very simple. Clearly they were inferior and stupid because they couldnât defend themselves and rarely spoke; when they did speak, they chose to use their native dialect instead of any of the Universal Languages. To deal with their simplicity, the humans decided to react with savagery. They would teach the Iotians how to respect them.
Throughout the war, as a sort of tactic to force other races to take their side, the humans had developed a nasty habit of enslaving those who would not comply. The soldiers could not legally claim peaceful inhabitants as prisoners of war and therefore could not sell them out to the Collectors, a group of almost-mercenaries who dealt in a rather specific type of trade under the guise of debt collectionâ
In the beginning, when the Collectors first came into existence, their work was about as innocent as roundabout slave trade could be. Internees who had some sort of debt and could not pay were given the chance to clear their debt with their lives â although it was rather hard to leave once they were in the system. And then there were those who hadnât had a choice in the matter and were bought under the table, or stolen from their homes.
Internees were sent to work for important people; members of varying governments, royalty, anyone who could afford the ghastly price to buy a person. But with galactic expansion, many developed rather specific affinities for alien races considered aesthetically fascinating. And as it turned out, the Collectors had a creature for just about every fetish imaginable â for a fee.
And while humans might have found Iotians simple, there was no denying the beauty in the varying, mystical designs on their skin, or their strong, lithe builds, or their constant dreamy, almost indolent airs. Iota was small, there were so few of them, and their rarity only made them more desirable.
âSo the soldiers couldnât legally sell them but they could, however, turn a blind eye when the Collectorsâ massive ships descended on the planet. Young women were taken first, torn from their homes in broad daylight. There was no one to protect them.
The threat of their daughters being taken was enough for the Iotians to fall into line and resume work in their fields â under the supervision of armed guards, of course. But then, as they are often wont to do, people became greedy. The inhabitants of far away colonies began to wonder if the men were just as beautiful as the women, and the Collector's felt compelled to fulfill their demands.
He was thirteen when he was taken, ripped from the arms of his weeping mother outside of their farmhouse when the sun was still high in the sky. There was a soldier nearby, his gun perched on his shoulder, but his face was turned toward the field so he did not see the scene unfold â although it must have been hard to ignore the helpless cries of the small family.
The Collectors had many names for him: boy, and other variants; Internee NI-264; Iotian wretch, scum, trash⊠They never asked for his name because it didnât matter â he would go by whatever name his future patrons wished â but he might not have told them if they had. His mother had called him Elliott.
There were tests and vaccinations to make sure that he was healthy, countless needles, medicines, and sterile, white rooms. Finally he was sent to Haven, a central satellite that had become the hub for the Collectorsâ activity, but he hardly had time to make himself comfortable in the quarters he had been given when he was being shipped off again.
His first patron was a retired professor with frighteningly particular tastes. When he became bored with him, around the time Elliottâs voice began to deepen, there was a brief respite before he was sent to a couple that like to dress him in pretty clothes. There was a rich elderly woman who had merely been looking for the occasional dinner conversation and someone to hold her hand on her deathbed; he had been sad when she died. There were doctors, soldiers, mothers, and fathersâ Anyone who was interested and could afford his pandererâs fee.
On the whole, he was one of the fortunate ones. Not all of the Collectorsâ victims had been lucky enough to find themselves in the care of a well-connected and fairly genial pimp, for thatâs what they were even if the Collectors avoided using the archaic slang. It would take him years to understand this providence.
By the time he was twenty-two, he found himself back on Haven. He was patronless, and consequently homeless, and had been sent to live in one of the hostels with others who also happened to be in between homes. He couldnât call this place a home; it had always reminded Elliott of the zoos that humans seemed so fond of. It was merely a waiting room for those in between owners.
It was a nice waiting room though, with plenty of space for the internees to live comfortably. He was given his own room, although the forth wall that faced the hallway was nonexistent unless potential clients requested privacy. There was a large plush bed that took up most of the room, and a matching chaise that he rarely used was pushed into the corner.
On the back wall beneath a window that overlooked a courtyard was a desk, and beside that a small shelf. Both of these were more to give the room character than for actual storage, although he did have a few meager belongings to display. Small trinkets and books, gifts from previous owners or regulars who preferred to buy a few hours of his time instead of years. Most of these things were fairly useless to him, but he couldn't bear to part with them. What else in the world could he call his own when he couldn't even claim his own body?
During the day, he was expected to leave the confines of his room and mingle with others who lived there, as well as potential clientele. It was best to pretend he was not actually living in a brothel, and in all fairness the Collectors had done a fairly good job in keeping them comfortable. Still, he found he preferred to spend time by himself, even when he made his way out of his room. He had a hard time getting along with some of the others, most of whom he considered fairly brainwashed â especially those who had made the decision to join the Collectors on their own. He was compliant because he learned early on that it made things easier, but that didnât mean he wanted to make friends.
Weeks went by, and he watched from what he considered the safety of his own room as others fluxed in and out of Haven. This wasnât the longest he had gone without a patron, but the lull was beginning to make him nervous. Everyone knew what happened to internees that couldnât keep money coming in, and he wasnât getting younger.
There was a scheduled Rain Day, and the internees were stuck inside. Most had made their way to the spa; Elliott had watched them pass his room giggling amongst themselves, playfully stripping each other for the benefit of any lingering customers. No one asked him to join them and he got back to his book, some religious text that a previous patron had given him in an attempt to save his soul, or something like that. (Which was ironic, considering the games this particular patron had enjoyed playing.) He found it rather dry.
Eventually the hall was quiet. He could hear someone in a neighboring room listening to gentle music, the patter of manmade rain, and the distant, hushed sounds of lovemaking. This was about as peaceful as it was able to get on Haven, and he made it through several more pages before he was considering heading down to the café for something to eat.
He closed the book and set it beside him, unfurling his crossed legs to stretch where he sat on the bed. He leaned back a little, arched his back and sighed pleasurably, and that was when he heard the voices making their way down the hall. They were speaking in English.
ââŠAnd we're looking for a birthday present.â
âWell, youâve come to the right place. Weâve got everything her heart could possibly desire. Weâve run your credentials and everything seems to be in orderââ There was a switch in tone as the matron clearly addressed a third, more important person. ââYouâre welcome to look around, your ladyship. These are the quarters, and the courtyard is that way, but it seems the Rain Day has driven almost everyone to the spa.â The matron let out a little, pompous laugh, like this amused her, as if to say kids will be kids. âIf you keep heading down this hall, thereâs a lift that can take you there. If you have any questions, or need anythingâŠâ
There was the sound of almost bored affirmation, and the click of heels against the marble floor as she made her way further into the dormitory. âYour ladyshipâ had made Elliott curious â very rarely did royalty actually come to Haven â and he straightened where he sat. Her footsteps paused, and he heard another internee murmur something lewd. The woman laughed pleasantly, but she resumed walking.
He swung his feet to the floor and tried not to stare into the hall impatiently. That would have been unbecoming of him, and he didnât exactly expect to make any sort of lasting impression on a royal. That was not his usual clientele, although he had heard stories that they made for some of the best patrons. There were rumors of lords and ladies buying entire lives, and if the internee was to outlive his or her master, they were to be free.
He also tried not to get his hopes up.
ââNI-264,ââ a voice in an accent he couldn't place said.
Elliott looked up and she was there, standing just outside of the room and looking at him curiously. Her hand was raised, fingers pressed against the nameplate outside of his room like she had traced the numbers as she read them. His first thought was that she could have been Iotian; she was tall and slender like his people, but her pale skin was absent of any tattoos and her hair was much too red. Only humans had hair like that.
His second thought was that she was very, very pretty.
Silence stretched between them as they studied each other in mutual interest, neither of them moving at first. But she dropped her hand from the nameplate and stepped into the room, tearing her gaze away from him to look around. He kept watching her, suddenly feeling suspicious for reasons he couldnât place.
âWhatâs it mean?â she asked casually, still not looking at him. She picked up a small toy horse from his desk.
âItâs the name the Collectors have given me,â he answered in a practiced sort of civility, hating the taste of her language on his tongue. His eyes stayed on her fingers as she turned the toy over in her hands. âMy identification.â
She glanced at him for a second before placing the toy back on the desk. âYes, but what's it mean?â She leaned to smell a vase full of flowers that he had collected from the courtyard.
His eyes rose to her face, his brow furrowing for a moment. He still sat on the bed, his hands folded in his lap, and he hadn't considered that this might have been rude. They didn't have royalty on Iota. He sighed. âIt means where Iâm from. âNIâ, Northern Iota. Iâm the 264th internee from my planet.â
âYou have rather good English, for an Iotian,â she noted, her voice still light.
ââFor an Iotian,ââ he parroted under his breath with a derisive snort before he could stop himself.
Her expression shifted then, she went rigid where she stood like she was caught off guard. She was quick to compose herself though, like any good royal, her eyes narrowing in his direction. Now he stiffened too, recognizing his mistake. He began to panic.
âDo you know what I could do to you?â she was asking amiably, almost flirtatiously, making her way closer to the bed. Despite the pleasant tone of her voice, there was no mistaking the threat between her words. She stopped within armâs reach and looked down at him with an expression of thinly veiled antipathy.
âAnything you wish, your ladyship,â he answered in a low, static voice like he was reading from a script. He was too frightened to dare looking her directly in the eye.
Her lips curled into a wicked smile and she reached to brush his hair from his face. She didnât say anything at first; she just watched her fingers trace the shape of his ear, down the slope of his cheek where the pattern on his skin began.
She followed it with the tips of her fingers inquiringly, her nails scraping against his neck gently, making him shudder involuntarily. He hated himself for it. She tilted her head as her fingers slipped beneath the collar of his tunic, pushing the thin fabric aside so that she could see the marks along his shoulder that moved further down his chest, his back, disappearing beneath his clothing.
Her eyes found his again and she pulled her hand from his shoulder, reaching to grasp a fistful of his hair to tilt his head back. âIâll advise you to remember that,â she hissed leaning closer, her face very near to his. âEiânn-ddaf?â (Do you understand?)
He was so shocked to hear her speak in Iotian that he wasnât certain how to respond at first. He couldnât remember the last time anyone had spoken in his native tongue to him, and it confused him that he might hear the words in such a strange lilt.
âIeânn-ddaf,â he responded softly. And then as an afterthought, and because he remembered that it was disrespectful to not use one of the Universal Languages when addressing royalty, he added, âI understand, your ladyship.â
âLady Win?â came another voice from the hall. It was the other voice from before, the man that had been speaking to the matron.
She looked up, but didnât relinquish her tight hold on his hair quite yet. âHaimes,â she acknowledged, her tone light again. Her fingers loosened and she stroked his hair back gently, almost fondly, as she straightened. âThis one.â
The man in the doorway looked from her, and then to Elliott, his expression almost incredulous. âYou donât want to see what elseââ
âThis one,â she interrupted sharply, her hand still possessively pressed against the crown of his head. She looked back at Elliott and smiled again. âHeâs mine. Arenât you?â Her head tilted prettily as she waited for his answer.
And he knew; looking at her then he knew that she was right. There had been no monetary exchange for his life yet, but something in the air had shifted. He didnât know why he felt so certain and it frightened him because it was such an unfamiliar, dazzling feelingâ
It has never felt like this before.
He nodded slowly and when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, âYes, your ladyship.â
âGood boy,â she said cheerily, patting his head like he was a well-behaved pet, and he was so delighted by her response that he couldnât help but smile too.
He was left alone to pack his belongings in a haze while all of the proper paperwork was filed. He was told that in a few hours he would be leaving on a private shuttle with an armed escort, but he was too dazed to think about this properly. Word travelled quickly that a royal had been present on Haven, and as soon as the others realized she had chosen Elliott â of all people â they began to mingle around his room to ask questions that he couldnât seem to answer.
Lilith (SV-6435), a small internee with skin the colour of milky sapphires, was lying on her stomach on his bed, wrapped in a towel and still a little wet from the spa. She had been watching him pack and was chattering incessantly about how this was an amazing opportunity for him. By now, the others had become bored with the news and had crept off to their own corners to gossip and preen.
ââŠAnd remember to be good, â she stressed. They were conversing in her language because she had been teaching Elliott sporadically since they had met several years prior, and both of them enjoyed the privacy of speaking in a language that not many around them knew.
âIâm always good,â he responded, tucking the last of his clothes into his suitcase. He looked at her and tilted his head in mock innocence. âThey like it that way.â
She laughed bitterly, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger absently. âDonât be cute; thatâs not what I meant,â she said, suddenly serious. âIs it any wonder why youâve never been patronized by a royal before? You understand why everyone is so surprised she chose you, donât you?â
He didnât say anything, so Lilith took this as her opportunity to continue lecturing him.
âYou have to follow their rules, Elliott,â she said. âYouâve lasted this long because youâre pretty and exotic â donât make that face, you know itâs true â but they know that Iotians have no use for royalty. They know that not only are you unfamiliar with their traditions, but also that you donât care about them. If you make one mistake in front of the wrong personââ
âIs this your way of saying that you care about me and you would hate to see me in line for the guillotine?â he asked pleasantly, moving to pack his books.
Lilith laughed and rolled over on her back, tilting her head so that she was watching him upside down. Her towel had slipped away with her movement, but neither of them noticed. âDonât be stupid. I hate your guts,â she said fondly. âBesides, I think hanging is back en vogue. Itâs cleaner, but still has the necessary drama for a good execution.â
Both of them bubbled into fits of easy, momentary laughter, and then their conversation drifted to discussion of things of less consequence. By the time his  belongings were packed, hardly taking up the space of two small suitcases, the artificial sunlight was beginning to dim outside. He crawled into the bed with her for one last time and Lilith pulled the blanket over them like it might draw out the time, or protect them from the cards they had drawn in life.
âIâm gonnaâ miss you,â she said like it was a secret, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. Her mouth parted against the warmth of his skin, almost like a kiss, and Elliott smiled to himself.
âIâm gonnaâ miss you too,â he said, pulling her closer. She hooked her leg around his like it was the natural thing to do and he held her against his chest, his fingers toying with her hair. âDonât worry, Iâm sure sheâll tire of my provincial ways soon enough and send me back in exchange for a better model.â
âDonât say that,â Lilith muttered against his throat, for a moment sounding legitimately hurt. âDonât say that because⊠because this is a good opportunity for you. It would be for any one of us. If you can make an impression on her, maybe⊠maybeâŠâ
She trailed off, but he knew what she meant to say. Maybe he could earn his freedom. Frankly, he wasnât counting on it. In nearly ten years of being under the custody of the Collectors, he had only seen a handful of internees earn their freedom back. And out of those, several eventually made their way back to Haven for one reason or another.
Besides, what could he do with freedom? He hardly knew the meaning of the word anymore. There was no way he would ever be able to afford to make it back to Iota, even on the cheapest of shuttles, and he wasnât even certain there was anything left for him there. Ten years was a long time.
Lilith's hands were creeping up the front of his shirt, and he felt the curve of her smile against his skin. âLet me give you a going away present,â she whispered impishly, pushing him onto his back. As she shifted on top of him the blanket slipped away, but she was quick to keep the both of them fully shrouded from the rest of the world.
Elliott laughed gently, his fingers still in her hair. âYou know you canât,â he said, but she was kissing his neck and he tipped his head back to give her better access. âYou know I canât. Not without permission. Iâve been bought and itâsââ He gasped as her mouth dropped lower, where she had pushed up his shirt. ââand itâs against the rules. Werenât you just explaining the importance of following rules to meâŠ?â
âOh, shut up,â she said, biting his chest. She wasn't exactly tender, but her mouth was soft enough so that she wouldnât leave a lasting mark. He gasped again and she laughed, pleased. âCâmon. One more lesson for the road. Tell me about your lady. Usual rules apply, and Iâll even give you bonus points for poetic flare. And you know how much I despise poetryââ
This was a game they liked to play to pass the time since there was rarely much else to do on Haven â and the internees were encouraged to fraternize with each other anyway, for the entertainment value. They merely found a way to make this particular aspect of their lives amusingly educational, and as a result, more engaging.
He would talk to her about whatever she told him to, in her dialect, and she would try her best to distract him into forgetting words. Points were irrelevant, like everything else, but she still enjoyed doling them out for creativity or taking them away if (when) he faltered.
âHe didnât say anything at first, but his eyes slipped shut as her mouth moved across his stomach. He knew that she was tracing the lines and eddies of the tattoos in his skin, and he had to swallow a shuddering groan.
âYou would have liked her,â he started slowly, smiling to himself as he thought about it.
âOh?â Lilith hummed from just above his navel.
He nodded and tilted his face to look down at her. She had her chin propped on his stomach, and was waiting patiently for him to elaborate before she carried on, despite the discomfort she was already beginning to cause him. Her eyebrows were raised, as if she were telling him that he could do better than that.
âShe was so beautiful,â he said in a sharp, sudden breath, and this almost seemed to catch Lilith off guard, but she pressed her mouth back to his skin. âThereâs an old Earthling fairy storyââ She bit him again and he choked out a laughing gasp because he knew that she hated fairy stories, and he had just lost some of his imaginary points.
ââThereâs a princess with white skin like⊠like the white on mountains. The white rain.â
âSnow,â Lilith corrected, slipping lower so that she could press her teeth into his hip. He began to shudder beneath her.
âSnow,â Elliott repeated, trying out the new word, his fingers tightening in her hair. She hummed in affirmation against him, signaling him to continue. Her fingers toyed with the waistband of his pants distractingly. âShe was white like snow,â he was saying dreamily, his head tipping back. His eyes shut and he could see her, how her face had been so close, her fingers curled in his hair â Heâs mine.
âBut she had little spots. Little spots like stars under her skinââ
âFreckles,â she prompted, shifting to tug his pants down over his hips. He arched his back for a moment, but she was roughly pushing him back into the bed like he was an impatient child.
âFreckles,â he said on a sigh. He wondered where else she had freckles. âHer hair,â he went on, trembling at the memory. âShe wore it down. Iâve never seen hair like that. Redââ But whatever he was going to say after that was cut off by a surprised moan because her mouth had found him. He tried to press his hips up, but her hands gripped him tightly, holding him down.
When Elliott went on, his voice was quiet and shaking. His eyes were still shut tightly, his fingers soft in Lilith's hair. âRed like⊠Red like Iota's second sun.â Her pleased laugh was muffled around him, and he moaned again at the sensation. Bonus points for poetic flare, he vaguely remembered, and he smiled too.
âThe second sun,â he said with a groan, âThe second sun is the larger star. In the summer she fills the sky with fire but we worship her and she keeps our crops safe. My ladyââ He gasped, because he found that he liked saying it, he liked being claimed by her. It surprised him, but he didnât have a chance to think about this because more broken words were tumbling from his mouth. âMy lady is the fire⊠the fire that curls from the second sunâs surface, the little licks of heat, those thingsââ
Lilith pulled her mouth from him with an amused chuckle. âThe⊠solar flares?â she suggested, ducking to bite the inside of his thigh. More points lost for stumbling.
He nodded, his mouth opening and closing like he might try the words himself. âSolar flares,â he finally said, and the words sounded strange to him, but Lilith was rewarding him with her mouth again and he moaned pleasurably. âWhen my lady smiles it burns; she is wrathful, but gently soââ
His words were cut off by another low moan as Lilith happily brought all of him into her mouth, a prize for his turn of phrase, and his hands pressed into her hair eagerly. âShe could kill with a single look, butâ Ah, Lilââ Her name drew out in his mouth, but she was swiftly pulling away to bite his thigh again and he cried out at the sudden pain.
âNaughty, donât talk about me,â she cooed pleasantly, nuzzling his hip. âCâmon, pretty boy, tell me more.â
Elliott sighed, petting her hair affectionately. âShe spoke Iotian,â he said abruptly, almost under his breath because a part of him had wanted to keep that detail to himself. This seemed to surprise Lilith, her eyes widened for a second before she lowered her mouth back to him. âIn her funny voiceâŠâ He laughed airily, remembering, but it dissolved into a tremulous moan.
âThatâs when I knew,â he managed, his voice still low. Lilith wasnât holding him down any longer, and he pressed his hips up excitedly. She hummed around him, urging him on. He was only dimly aware of what he was saying now, he was tumbling, stumbling across the words that she pulled from him.
âThatâs when I knew I was hers. Becauseâ ahâ Because she knew, because she knew my voice, she knew my tongue,â he was saying dizzily. He wanted to tell her how close he was, but that would only result in more punishment. His eyes closed again and he could see her, clearly as if she were there too, and he thought of the way her mouth had looked when she smiled at him.
âShe could destroy me,â he said, drawn out and trembling because he thought maybe he wanted her to destroy him. His hips stuttered against Lilith's mouth, and he knew what was coming next. He was almost babbling. âAnd she will, she will, like the sunââ
He gasped, cried out suddenly, but he pulled a hand from Lilith's hair to clap over his own mouth. But he didn't need to hold her there because she pressed down to swallow all of him, she might have smiled if she had been able, but her eyes were turned up to watch him come undone.
And the moment was over almost as soon as it had come, and he stilled, his arms falling to lie on either side of him, his breathing ragged. The blanket was still draped over them and he was suddenly aware of how warm he was as Lilith gently pulled his pants back up and crawled to curl next to him. Her head fell against his shoulder, and he let out another long, pleased sigh. He might have fallen asleep like that if she hadn't said anything, her voice so quiet that he almost didn't hear her. But there was no mistaking the concern in her words, like she was frightened again.
âRemember, please be careful.â
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