She readied herself to call upon the power of Gaia.
The baron was now standing directly in front of her, his small erection just a few inches from her face.
“Take it!” he said.
The sec men in the room chuckled at that.
“I said take it,” the baron repeated.
This was where it ended, Krysty thought. She reached out with her right hand and gently caressed the baron’s scrotum, feeling his testicles sliding around inside his sack. With her left hand she took hold of his cock, her fingers able to reach all the way around the thin shaft, and then some.
“Ahh,” the baron sighed. “That’s good.”
Krysty, ready to invoke the name of Gaia, prepared to squeeze as hard as she could with her right hand. She also tensed her left hand, ready to give his scrotum a hard twist.
“Enough!” the baron said, pushing Krysty back in her chair.
She released her hold on the baron’s genitals.
“I don’t want to scar you, my pretty one,” the baron said, doing up his bathrobe. “I know an East Coast breeder who is partial to redheads, and I doubt he’d pay much jack for, uh, damaged goods.”
Krysty began getting dressed.
“But first you have to give me an offspring.”
“Who do you wish her to rut with?” the man with the book asked.
“I imagine there will be many who’ll want her,” the baron said. “But only the strongest man on the farm would be worthy of her, so we’ll have a gladitorial-type contest for her. Men, battling each other to the death for the privilege of rutting with this vision of beauty.” The baron looked out the window at his orchards. “Yes, men brutally chilling each other, spilling blood, guts and gore, all for the right to mate and make new life with this woman.”
Krysty wanted no part of the baron’s mad plan, but as long as she played along with it, she’d be safe and able to try to get in touch with Ryan and Mildred so they could begin to figure out an escape plan.
The baron turned to two of the sec men in the room. “Take her to one of the private lounges and make sure she’s comfortable. I want her to look good for the combatants.”
The sec men nodded and led Krysty to the door. The baron turned to the man with the book, and took his riding crop from the pocket of his bathrobe. “Send me a breeder,” he said, whipping the crop against his hand. “And make her red-haired if we have one.”
“Yes, baron,” Norman Bauer replied. “Right away.”
Chapter Thirteen
Doc had been right about the muties.
When the four friends were done making their recce of the area from the observation level of the tower, they found the fruit gone from the stairs, and the three muties fast asleep on one of the landings.
“So you see, John Barrymore,” Doc said, as they carefully stepped over the sleeping muties. “It wasn’t your fault that you fell asleep on watch. The fruit had a similar effect on all of us.”
J.B. nodded, feeling a little better, but only a little. So there was a reason why he’d fallen asleep on his watch. It still wasn’t anything but an excuse.
They made it down from the tower without further incident and began the journey northwest toward the farm. When they reached the outer edges of the ville, where the ruins of the old city ended and the ruins of the old farms began, they decided to take a short break to eat what little supplies they had with them. Doc was still carrying the bag of fruit, but none in the group was hungry enough to eat any. Instead, they made do with a few pieces of jerked beef J.B. had with him, and a bag of nuts Jak had squirreled away in one of the pockets of his jacket.
“Any more peanuts in the bag?” Dean asked Jak.
“Ate them.”
A sound erupted behind them just then, like the snap of a twig or the fall of a rock. All four of the friends had their blasters drawn a second later and were searching the nearby tangles of weeds for a sign of what was there.