Calla made her way through each of the rooms, changing linens and straightening what little there was to straighten. They had very few personal possessions, so she hadn’t gleaned much information about them in her cleaning. Usually she was able to tell a great deal about the guests by what they left in their rooms.
The final room, at the end of the hall, was actually a small suite. According to Jess, her best friend and crèche-brother, the squadron’s commander was staying here.
Mistress Jenner seemed to hate him more than all the other Saurellians combined. Calla had heard her blame the man for everything from the recent rise in food costs to the timing of transport take-offs, which caused a shudder to run through the entire space station. Last week, Jenner had spilled hot tea all over her hands during a rough launch.
According to Jenner, the commander was the most disgustingly licentious Saurellian of them all. He even had pleasure workers spend the night with him at the hostel and hosted parties in his suite, something which never would have happened if they weren’t under martial law. Mistress Jenner wasn’t brave enough to stand up to their conquerors, but there was no question as to what her opinion about them was.
She believed they were evil, pure and simple. Not that she had held a much higher opinion of the Imperial troops, of course. As far as Calla could tell, the only people Mistress Jenner actually liked were her fellow Pilgrims. Given the choice between accepting Saurellian money or being turned out of her own home, however, Mistress Jenner had opted to take the money.
When she reached the suite’s door, Calla didn’t bother to knock before placing her hand against the palm plate to open it. There was never anyone there during the day, anyway. As she walked in, she banged her basket on the door frame, dropping several towels on the floor. Carefully balancing the large basket against her small, compact frame, she knelt down, reaching for the towels.
The action was just enough to loosen the knot dark brown hair at her nape, and the entire mass of unruly curls came off her head and down before her eyes. She fought with it for a few seconds, then gave into the inevitable and set down the basket. She’d have to braid it to get it out of the way now, she thought with disgust. She hated doing that, because braids, combined with her youthful features and the smattering of freckles across her nose, always made her look like a 12-year-old. Not that she had anybody to impress, anyway, so it really didn’t matter she reminded herself wryly.
As she braided the long mass with swift fingers, she heard a sound come from the other room. She froze in place, heart thumping. After a moment’s silence she laughed nervously to herself, convinced she had imagined it. Perhaps the long hours were getting to her...
Moving quickly and efficiently once her hair was out of the way, she set her basket on a low table, picked out a set of linens and headed toward the bedroom. As she opened the door a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind, and she was pulled back against a large, unyielding form. Calla tried to scream, but the noise was instantly muffled by a hand that covered her face. Something sharp pricked her neck, and she knew she was in big trouble.
“What are you doing here?” a deep voice whispered harshly in her ear. Calla tried to answer, but her captor’s hand still covered her mouth. “I’ll let you speak, but if you scream I’ll cut your throat. Don’t try to play games with me.”
“I-I-I’m C-C-Calla,” she said, stuttering slightly in fear. The blade pressed more sharply against her neck. “I w-w-work here, I clean the rooms.”
The man’s hand and arm slipped lower, clasping her across her chest and effectively pinning both her arms. His body was hard against her back, his arm a band of iron trapping her. Even if he wasn’t holding a knife to her throat, there was no way she’d be able to get away from him.
“I gave strict orders to Mistress Jenner not to have anyone come in here today. I’m going to check your story out,” he said, arms not moving an inch. “If you’re lying, this is the time to tell me. Otherwise I’ll kill you.”
“I’m not lying,” Calla whispered. She could scarcely breath, she was so frightened.
He would do it, he would actually kill her. She could tell from his voice that he was serious.
The man keyed a small comset attached to his shoulder with his chin. “Tiernan, this is Seth. I’ve caught a woman going through my room.” he said. “She claims to work for the hostel. Her name is Calla. Can you confirm this for me?”
“Yes, sir,” Tiernan answered, his voice sounding tinny through the tiny speaker.
Calla assumed he was one of the men guarding the hostel’s entrances. He should be able to confirm her identity, although he couldn’t go quickly enough for her comfort …
Until then, it was clear that the man had no intention of letting her go. His arms remained inflexible as steel–there would be no escaping.
She could feel the entire length of his body against her back, solid as a wall. His breathing was steady and sure, although every muscle was tense and ready for action.
Then she felt something pressing against the small of her back. With a shock, she realized her captor was becoming aroused as he held her against his body. Fear swept through her–if he wanted her, there was nothing to stop him. Mistress Jenner certainly wouldn’t come to save her, even if orders hadn’t been given to stay out of the suite. Stay calm, Calla told herself. This will pass if you just stay calm.
Seth’s erection was quite obvious now, jutting insistently against her. She tried to edge her lower body away from him slightly, but his grip tightened instantly.
“I told you not to move,” he said in a menacing tone. His breath was coming a little faster now. Holding the knife steady at her throat, he moved his hand from her upper arm to slide slowly down her chest. It slowed at her breast, cupping her gently. Using his thumb and finger, he plucked softly at her nipple, sending a whisper of sensation through Calla’s body. It felt exquisite. There was something strangely sexy about being held like this, she thought. The realization was simultaneously disgusting and compelling.
After a few seconds, his hand left her breast to slide lower, stopping just below her slightly rounded belly. Pressing with the palm of his hand, the man rubbed her body gently against his cock. One finger reached down toward her clit, and even with the layers of cloth between them Calla gasped slightly at the touch. She was afraid of him, but excited, too. He still held a blade to her throat, and she didn’t doubt that he’d use it if he needed too, but he was also attracted to her. He held most of the power in the situation, but some small part of it was hers–he wanted her, Calla, the slave.
With a shock, she realized she wanted him, too. A tendril of sensation coiled through her at his touch, and she could feel moisture gather between her legs. Without pausing to consider the consequences of her actions, she relaxed against him slightly, allowing her legs to shift restlessly. It surprised him, Calla could tell, because he stopped breathing for a moment.
She watched as he moved the knife from her throat. He set it down on a small table beside them before reaching back to her aching breast. He started rocking the aroused length of his cock against her again, one hand massaging her breast while the other focused attention between her legs. His large fingers moved back and forth, pushing the rough fabric of her undergarments across her most sensitive spot. It felt so good it was almost painful.
A pressure was building in her body, and while she was still far from coming, she let out a little moan. She simply had to have more. Without thinking, Calla whispered, “I want to do more than this.”