“For starters, you won’t get beat as bad as others do.”
“Oh, that sounds fair.”
“You bet.”
And that’s when Krysty simultaneously squeezed and twisted her hands as if she were wringing water from a damp towel.
The sec man let out a yelp, his body snapping straight and unable to move.
Krysty gave him another hard twist, the force of it lifting him onto his toes. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, and tears leaked from his eyes. She let go of his scrotum and reached down with her right hand to pull his knife from its sheath. It was a four inch hunting knife with a serrated edge on one side and a straight edge on the other. She came up with the knife quickly, slashing it from right to left, slicing off the tip of the sec man’s cock.
He screamed.
She let go, pushed him away with a hard shove and slid the knife under the bed.
He stumbled backward, then reached down between his legs to grab hold of his severed member. He tried to staunch the flow of blood with his hands, but it still flowed freely through his fingers and down the insides of his legs.
“Rad-blasted slut!” the sec man screamed, holding himself with one hand and trying to pull up his pants with the other. He finally let go of his pants and brought around his longblaster.
The door burst open and a second sec man entered the room. “Put it down!” he said.
“But she cut me.”
A third sec man entered the room. Krysty recognized him as the sec chief named Grundwold. “Did she reach into your pants and pull it out for you, too?” the sec chief demanded.
“He was going to hurt me,” Krysty said. “Mebbe even chill me. I was only defending myself.”
The sec chief looked at his two sec men with contempt. “Get out of here, before the baron hears about this.” He pushed the bleeding man in the direction of the door.
“But—”
“Never mind,” Grundwold said. “Or mebbe you want to explain to the baron what just happened here.”
The two sec men left without another word. Once outside the room, the injured one grunted and groaned his way down the hall.
Grundwold stopped in the doorway before he left the room. “You try and relax, mebbe get some sleep. The baron wants you looking your best.”
“That’s kind of him.”
The sec chief nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Krysty fished under the bed for the knife. She wiped off the blood and slipped it into her boot.
Who knew? Mebbe it would come in handy.
RYAN WAS HAVING troubles of his own. Although he was doing his best to do the job that was required of him and be as inconspicuous as possible while doing it, the addition of a new slave was bound to attract attention.
“Are you spoken for?” asked an older woman with scraggly brown hair. She was obviously several months’ pregnant and wasn’t too concerned about concealing the fact, or she would have felt the need to cover her bloated breasts, which rested on her distended belly like eggs in a frying pan.
“Yes, I am,” Ryan said, taking a bite out of a fresh peach.
“Who?” the woman wanted to know. “You just arrived. How could you—?”
“You can’t rut with him,” a second woman said. She was younger by about ten years, rake thin and without child. “That’s not your choice to make. You’re already heavy.”
“But I want him,” the pregnant one said. “He’s strong and handsome. Maybe even a little mysterious.”
“But if the baron catches you rutting without permission while you’re already heavy, he’ll chain you up until you birth.”
“Who’s going to know? Who’ll tell the baron? You?”
The younger woman just smiled.
“Why, you bitch,” said the older one. She threw her fist forward and caught the other woman flush in the nose. Blood began to drain from one of the younger woman’s nostrils, but that wasn’t stopping the older woman from trying to hit her again.
The young woman dropped to the ground and took the older one’s legs out from under her with a spinning leg trip. The older woman fell on her rear, and her enlarged breasts seemed to bounce and jiggle for the longest time. The younger woman was about to give her a hard kick in the abdomen when another slave came by to break up the fight.