Page 15 of Rescued

Because what else could she say? Her situation was bad, but it could always get worse if she wasn’t careful. She’d heard that the bottom tier flowers had to “entertain a client” every solar hour. At least she was limited to one or two clients a day, since she was often in the Flower Lounge performing.

“What does this client want?” she asked, trying to keep her temper in check. “Does he want me to sing to him?” That was what she hoped, anyway. Please, God—no more toe sucking!

“I do not know what he wants—but whatever it is, you will provide it for him,” Oozle had burbled sternly. “He is the Trollox ambassador to Opulex—a very important male!”

At that point, Sonya hadn’t known what a “Trollox” was, so she simply nodded her head.

“All right. I understand.”

“Good. On your best behavior, girl! Do whatever Sir Grox tells you and do it with a smile!” Oozle had pointed one slimy digit at her and then oozed out of the room with the tiny vacuum following behind him to clean up his trail of slime.

A moment later, the Trollox had stepped in and Sonya felt her heart freeze in her chest.

The monster! a panicked little voice in the back of her brain whispered. Oh God, the monster—he’s here!

Sir Grox had to duck his head to get into the large penthouse room and once inside, he seemed to fill it with his presence—and not in a good way. He had taken a seat in the reinforced chair that had been brought into her room earlier—apparently just for him.

Despite the reinforcements, the chair had creaked ominously as he lowered his ponderous bulk onto it. He had settled himself with his legs wide apart and Sonya hadn’t been able to keep from staring at the massive bulge in his leather trousers which looked as big as an enormous roll of bologna in a deli case. She tried looking at the top of him instead—but the view didn’t improve.

Two of Sir Grox’s heads were bald and the one in the middle had greasy orange hair that was slicked back from its temples. He smelled too—a rank odor like rotting meat and dirty feet and unclean genitals.

Smells like he hasn’t taken a shower or washed his junk in a month of Sundays! Sonya thought dismally as her heart began to beat again. The old saying about a “month of Sundays” made her think with longing of her granny who had died right at the beginning of the Scourge invasion. What would she think if she could see her granddaughter now? If she knew what Sonya was being forced to do?

“Er, hello…” Her heart had been in her throat and her skin felt clammy with fear as she forced herself to face her latest client. “How…how can I entertain you?” she’d asked him, just as she had been taught. “Would you like me to sing you a special song? Just for you?” she added hopefully.

But Sir Grox had shaken all three of his heads. He looked like the ogre in the book of fairy tales her mother used to read to her as a child, Sonya thought. That damn picture had given her night terrors—for years she’d woken up screaming and crying in the darkness, terrified that the horrible ogre was going to get her and “grind her bones to make his bread.” And now, here he sat—a ten-foot-tall nightmare come to life—and there was nowhere to run and no one to wake her up from this horror.

The monster, whispered the voice again. He’s here for you, Sonya and there’s no getting away from him!

“Take off your clothes.” Only the middle head—the one with the slicked back hair—spoke. It had a surprisingly high voice, considering the enormous body it was attached to. The cartoon sound of it might have made Sonya laugh if she hadn’t been scared stiff.

“Take off…take off my clothes?” she’d whispered, feeling sick.

“Take them off. Grox wants to see your cunny, little female,” the middle head said and the other two heads on either side nodded and giggled—high, evil laughter that raised the short hairs on the back of her neck and made her stomach clench into a slick fist.

Sonya wanted desperately to run—to hide. But there was nowhere to go. The Trollox was between her and the door and even if she could get out, she’d only manage to make it into the corridor which was regularly patrolled by the Flower House guards. And even if she dodged past them and managed to get all the way out onto the street, where could she go?

She’d been told—along with the other new “flowers”—that the planet they were on, Yonnie Six, was completely ruled and dominated by males. A woman wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without a man because all women here were slaves and property—it was like the Patriarchy on steroids.

“Unaccompanied females will be reported and rounded up the moment anyone sees them,” Oozle had informed them in his burbling voice. “You will simply be brought right back here and punished severely. You will lose your ranking and be immediately cast into the bottom tier of flowers. There is no escape from Yonnie Six or from The House of a Thousand Flowers—do not even attempt it.”

So Sonya was stuck here and she knew it.

She was a sex worker now—she had almost accepted that. But she’d been able to imagine that she would only have to go on singing for the various “clients” she entertained. None of them had asked her to undress before now—not even the Zoporan who had wanted to suck her toes.

Hands shaking, she had taken off the long, slinky gown she’d been wearing during her last performance in the Flower Lounge and draped it over the vast silver platform bed in the corner of the apartment. Then, feeling cold all over, she turned around and stood naked before the enormous Trollox.

The monster…the monster…the little voice kept chanting in her head.

Sonya was horribly afraid he wanted to touch her—to paw her with those huge, grimy sausage fingers with dirt under every nail. Or God, what if he wanted to fuck her? How could that even work? There was no way the enormous thing she saw bulging in his brown leather trousers would ever fit inside her! It would be like trying to have a baby in reverse—as if you were cramming it back up into yourself instead of pushing it out!

It was a sickening thought and it did not appeal to Sonya. She stood there naked, rubbing her arms with her hands to try and dissipate the chill bumps that had broken out on her skin. But it was useless—she was cold and frightened and horrified at what might happen to her. Her nightmare was coming true and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

“Show Grox your tits,” the middle head directed her.

“I…what?” Sonya’s voice had come out in a paper-thin whisper.

“Come here, little female—show us your tits,” it commanded.

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