This is a re-issue. No substantial changes from the original have been made.
Dani Watson is a brothel worker on the planet Dantovon. Having escaped post-Armageddon Earth, she’s resigned to spending several years in service to pay off her contract. Her one consolation is that she avoided being captured by the Kalquorians.
When a Kalquorian clan buys her contract, Dani attempts escape. Crashing on a remote moon puts her life in jeopardy, leaving her and the clan of Gelan, Wynhod, and Krijero fighting for survival in a hostile environment. Worse still, they’re being hunted by a group of brutal Tragooms who are determined to capture Dani and subject her to a fate worse than death.
Warning: Mild BDSM, multiple sexual partners (m/f/m/m).
About the Author
Tracy St. John is the author of science fiction romance, including the bestselling Clans of Kalquor series. She lives in Georgia with her husband and son, fending off mosquitos and running from hurricanes. Before settling in to write fulltime, she worked in video production, in front of and behind the camera. She was often cast as the gun-toting bad gal, getting handcuffed in the end. She hopes that hot alien cops will intercept those videos and investigate. Soon.
Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Tracy St John 2017. All Rights Reserved, Totally Entwined Group Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing.
Reggie’s hypnotic trill lulled Dani as he slipped his penis into her. The swing that held her suspended in the air creaked as it moved back and forth in the middle of one of the brothel’s playrooms.
Dani barely felt the thin appendage as she floated in a calm sea of contentment. Sex with the Isetacian, one of her regulars since coming to Dantovon five months ago, was always pleasant. Reggie wasn’t much to look at, but that sweet warbling song that indicated his arousal made up for his lack of physical attractiveness. For all Dani knew, he was the handsomest man on Isetac. She’d found rating manly charm a futile exercise given the strange bodies and faces of the aliens who visited Dantovon.
Her large brown eyes half-lidded in trance, Dani traced the hard ridge of bone along Reggie’s back. It broke through his grey skin, a purplish-black, lumpy crest. The first time she’d seen an Isetacian, she’d thought the creature had been horrifically injured, its skin flayed to expose the skeleton along the spine and joints. When she’d discovered that was the norm for the six-legged race—or six-armed…with Isetacians, it was impossible to tell—she’d been both fascinated and repulsed.
Becoming a sex slave to get off the ruined hulk of Earth had been rife with surprises, good and bad alike.
For now, Dani was content to let Reggie sing to her while he plunged in and out, her long, lanky body suspended in the black straps of the swing. She’d gotten almost halfway through tonight’s shift at the brothel and this was as good an intermission as she could hope to get. Isetacians didn’t require much from the sex slaves. Stroke their spines and the crowns of their bulbous heads, let them do their thing, and they were happy.
She allowed herself to drift, Reggie’s trill taking her deeper still until her eyes closed, shutting out his face with its toothless mouth. She felt better not looking into the deep pits from which his tiny eyes peered. They circled his head in sets of two.
Dani’s closed eyes also shut out the small, dark playroom with its assortment of harnesses, restraints and pleasure devices. She was grateful that Reggie was so easy to please. He had left it up to her as to whether she would hang in a suspension field or sit in the swing. For some reason, the swing had appealed to her tonight.
A pair of Reggie’s hands—feet?—gripped her knees, holding her wide open. Another pair held the parts of her buttocks not covered by the swing’s straps. She possessed plenty of flesh for him to hang on to. For such a spindly woman, she thought she had a lot of backyard real estate. In contrast, her smallish breasts, while well-shaped, disappeared beneath the Isetacian’s three-fingered grasp. At almost six feet tall, Dani was an elongated pear when she didn’t think of herself as a big, galumphing horse.
Her customers didn’t seem to mind her awkward frame. Not that she cared about what they thought. As long as they paid her fee, lessening her contract in the too-small increments that meant she’d spend the next three to five years as a sex slave, they could regard her in any way they liked.
Dani sighed and made herself contemplate things other than the contract that she’d signed impetuously in her desperation to get off Earth. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Guaranteed meals, safe shelter and escape from being captured by the Kalquorian race that had destroyed her home world were a fair trade for sex, which she’d always been ambivalent about. Besides, Dani on Dantovon had a cute ring to it. How could it not be fated?
Reggie, whose real name was impossible for her to pronounce, deepened his voice, signalling he was close to climax. His scent intensified. He smelled like musty old books, the antique type with paper pages one turned. Dani sighed again. Her break was almost over and she’d have to get back to real work soon. Like the Earther men she’d bedded, Reggie got done way too fast. She barely had time to enjoy herself.
Reggie’s hands tightened on her various body parts and his tone deepened to a bass note, held for a good ten seconds as he spurted cold seed that ran down her thighs and dripped to the floor. The moment he was done, he scrambled down. Sitting back on four of his six limbs, he solicitously helped her from the swing to stand swaying on her feet. After a moment, the hypnotic trance he’d put her in faded. Dani shivered in the cool air. Putting on her smile with professionalism, she asked, “Did you have fun, Reggie?”
He gave her a gummy smile, peering up at her with two pairs of deep-pitted eyes. “Ep, ep, you are always fun.”
“Will I see you next week?” She wished the restful alien could visit more often.
Reggie shook his back end in affirmation. “I will book my appointment on my way out. Hopeful ship still run.”
Dani shook her head, her tousled red hair tumbling over her shoulders. “You have the most trouble with your transport.”
His rear shook more. “I fix all the time. Old ship, few parts.”
With a final goodbye, Reggie left. Dani washed her legs clean of his watery spend and yanked her clothes on. Like those of all humanoid sex slaves on Dantovon, her grey skirt, almost a colour match for Reggie’s skin, was transparent from mid-thigh down to its knee-length hem. The matching bra pushed her teacup breasts up. Dani thought it accentuated how small she was rather than enhancing her décolletage. Oh well. Big, galumphing horses didn’t have boobs anyway. Clients were always more fascinated by the pert pink nipples than the size of her breasts.
Out of habit, she tugged at the collar on her throat, the half-inch-wide silvery metal that proclaimed her slave status. In actuality, it weighed no more than any piece of jewellery Dani had owned on Earth. In her mind, it felt like an anvil hung from her neck.
She checked the chronometer. She was exactly halfway through her shift. It’s all downhill from here, she thought, trying to face the remainder of the night with optimism.
The door slid open, admitting Dani into the long hallway that ran the length of the brothel’s playroom area. Lights flickered here and there. They wouldn’t be changed by money-grubbing Pob until they went out entirely.
Dani kept to the centre of the hall, mostly out of the reach of the guards positioned at regular intervals. Pob’s security wasn’t allowed to have sex with the prostitutes without paying for it, but they could grab the goods for a passing feel if they were so inclined. It was a side benefit of working in the house. Dani didn’t like to give anything away for free on principle.
As she absentmindedly dodged the gauntlet of hands, paws, claws or whatever the guards’ grabbing implements happened to be, the clamour of sex emitted from the closed doors, creating a web of sound. Sometimes the noises were happy, sometimes pained, but mostly it just sounded desperate to Dani.
She reached the lounge, her long legs covering the distance with quick efficiency. The light was brighter in here. Mirrored walls allowed the workers check their appearances before heading off to the next client. Couches of varying degrees of cleanliness and well-being scattered across the floor. Females of various species lounged on them. Still others slept on the floor, grabbing rest between clients. Chatter was sparse. It was as if the air filled with colognes, perfumes and the musk of alien sexual parts was too heavy to allow speech.
Dani checked the schedule, the red-lined vid suspended in the air near the door. A spark of anger made her snap at the attendant seated nearby.
“My next client is now?”
Husta, a native Dantovonian who was also the sister of the brothel owner, rolled her lidless eye at Dani. Husta’s segmented face didn’t allow much expression. She managed to convey her dislike for Dani anyway. “We’re busy.”
Dani looked around the lounge. Every available space was crowded with sex slaves. “Busy? Then why are so many lying around?”
“They’re not Earthers. You’re popular for whatever reason.” Husta’s long, cylindrical tongue flicked out of her tiny mouth. Dani knew the tongue scented the air, tasting the various aromas. Dantovonians looked like a science experiment gone terribly wrong, as if some mad laboratory had bred amphibians and insects with each other. Not pretty.
After testing the lounge’s questionable bouquet, Husta turned her head away dismissively. She knew as well as Dani did that Earthers as sex slaves were a rare commodity. Dani was the only Earther that worked in this brothel. For all she knew, she was the only Earther who worked on Dantovon. Most of the females of her race were far too repressed by their former home’s fanatical regime to sell their services.
Dani’s novelty kept her from having to work hard to please clients. Most were thrilled to have the opportunity to stick their sex stuff in the notoriously uptight Earther species just so they could brag to their peers.
Dani grumbled as she stared in a mirror, dragging her fingers through her wavy copper hair. “If the next client wants me bad enough, he can wait a few minutes.” Reggie’s song had left her loose-limbed and lazy.
“And here I thought you wanted to pay your contract off. That group paid extra.”
Dani glared at Husta. “Damn it, multiples? More than two?”
Husta radiated smug amusement. “You’d better get moving before they come looking for you.” She hop-crawled away on spindly stalks of limbs before Dani could ask who her clients were.
Bitch, Dani thought uncharitably. Even knowing extra money was involved couldn’t salve her irritation. Only three species she knew of tended to have sex in groups—Bi’isils, Solns and Kalquorians. Bi’isils required intricate rituals with sexual intercourse. The grey-skinned race considered it within their rights to kill the brothel’s worker and owner if a mistake was made in those rites. The only reason anyone served them was because they might pay off a contract within half a dozen visits. Bi’isils spent obscene amounts to have sex with women not of their own species.
Dani wasn’t trained in their sex ceremonies, so unless Husta wanted her brother dead, she could scratch that option off the list.
Since Dani’s contract stipulated no Kalquorians, that left the Solns. She sighed. Sex with the tiny Solns didn’t require she actually do anything, just stand still while they climbed all over her. That was easy enough, but the clean-up afterward was rigorous. Soln seed stuck to the skin and hardened quickly. Damn straight they’d better have paid extra.
Dani consulted the room number and frowned. Husta had put them in a fully equipped playroom, which made no sense. Solns didn’t use restraints, disciplinary tools or arousing toys. Unnecessarily tying up one of the grand playrooms might put Dani in dutch with another prostitute who could have used it to chop off a sizeable chunk of her contract. Husta wasted no opportunity to make Dani’s life more miserable than it already was.
Putting a lid on her simmering hostility, Dani yelled across the lounge. “Husta, I’ll need a full break after this one.” She added under her breath, “Bitch.”
With one final primp in the mirror, Dani stomped out of the lounge in full pout. At least she could wallow in her pique. The Solns wouldn’t care about her bad temper.
Dani headed back down the hall, absentmindedly sidestepping here and there to avoid the guards’ eager grabs. She wondered if she could get the Solns to relocate to a smaller room, one without all the bells and whistles.
Dani had to snort at herself. Bells and whistles indeed. The first time she’d seen the fully equipped playroom, she’d thought of a medieval dungeon. The props and furniture had seemed more like torture implements than pleasure devices to an Earther. She had been raised in the repressed environment of a religion-based government gone mad.
Fortunately, Dani had got away with a lot more decadence than the typical Earther. Privilege and a deep-pocketed father in politics had given her leeway most Earthers hadn’t enjoyed. She’d been no trembling virgin when she’d come to Dantovon. Once she’d got over the initial shock of blatant sex, sometimes committed in full view of an audience, Dani had been more curious than appalled by the strange apparatuses the brothel’s customers used on their playthings.
She’d even enjoyed a few of the toys. There was a table one could be strapped down on, a swing like the one she’d entertained Reggie in, manacles in the walls, manacles hanging from chains, a suspension field, straps, shock prods, spanking boards, gags, blindfolds and stimulant dildos of various sizes and shapes to accommodate the anatomies of various species.
It still made no sense the Solns would choose that room. But who knew why aliens did what they did? Dani couldn’t make sense of her own species, never mind trying to figure the others out.
She reached the playroom door and punched her code in. The door whooshed open obligingly and she stepped in.
The room’s walls were curtained. The dark blue fabric was easily swept aside to put in use any of the restraints that hung behind the drapes. Spotlights were trained at those areas, as well as over the equipment scattered about the floor—padded cuffs hanging from the ceiling, the table and the podium that emitted the suspension field. Shadows pooled in the corners, making the lit areas so much more glaring for the surrounding darkness.
As the door closed behind Dani, movement came from the far corner. Her clients came forward, but not the ones she had expected to service. Instead of a dozen tiny Solns, three huge men stepped from the shadows. Kalquorians.
Dani had only an instant to register the dark-skinned, black-haired aliens before turning on her heel and running for the door, a scream poised on her lips. She’d not taken one step before a thick, muscled arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides and pulling her to a granite-hard body, lifting her from her feet. The Kalquorian had her near six-foot length dangling several inches above the floor. She kicked wildly.
“Let me go!”