tagSci-Fi & FantasyTara in Space Book 01: Kidnapped

Tara in Space Book 01: Kidnapped


Book 1.

The Imperium.


The Imperium was vast. Yet like all empires before and after, there had been a single kernel in the beginning. A Solitary solar system, a tiny grain of sand, lost on the infinite desert of the universe. A story born from a legend governed at the start by a small people's council. They had climbed out of their single blue green nest, to see what lay beyond. A people of crude ideas and narrow concepts, who would later in their snail like progress of discovery, find a concept so abstract, and alien to them they would not see its true potential for a further three centuries.

Some had called it the folding of the universe; others had loosely termed it the tearing of space. A few who could see the abstract perception called it the four dimensional hyper-drive. Where using the fourth dimension of time helped, to shorten the other three dimensions thus compressing the vast distances of space. The majority had gone for naming it the Star-drive. All of which could fill three books, where there anyone to read it, and then very few people who did, would ever fully understand it.

So they fitted it to their old space ships, and began to explore, discover, observe, and in doing this they met other races, other species. There in the beginning thanks in most part to the trader's guild of Mercantile Templars. The Imperium expanded ever outwards. Seeking new world's new knowledge, and so creating more wealth. Nevertheless when the power and wealth went far beyond the venerable to achieving the overwhelming, so had come from the darkness those malevolent ones, whose greed was everlasting and backed by a ruthlessness to match their drive for the ultimate power.

Already on the outer fringes of the periphery of the empire, the Primary Edict as it was called. The golden rule of non-interference in primitive planets was forsaken, and open trading in mostly female slaves kidnapped from backward planets, had become a lucrative business for the excitement of the jaded palates of the rich.

The Old Imperium, the Imperium of legend, where there was no need to note where it was in the scheme of things. Only to know that it was there, strong and omnipotent or so it seemed.

Therefore, it was with the Imperium at its height. Like the greatest of trees, able to withstand any external attack, the Imperium rotted from within, although the danger was not visible from the outside. The decay continued relentlessly aided and abetted by power-hungry individuals, who continued to drain the very strength out of the trunk.

Selenium the single planet that had been the birthplace of the Imperium had become the administrative centre of the Galactic Empire. Slowly as power and influence increased, it began to turn in on itself to preserve the status quo. Although outward looking with its substantial fleet of ships, which ranged over the Imperium to uphold the sanctity of the law and free trade. In reality with its dependence upon the outer worlds for food, and for the necessities of life, the fleet's secondary role was becoming the more important, and that was to protect Selenium's jugular vein.


The grey lifeless moon showed a jagged landscape covered in dust. Craters ringed the plains between the broken escarpments. Apart from some litter left by the first explorers from the planet the moon orbited. There was no one to disturb them.

On the huge crater's jagged edge, the mechanical hand of an AdM43B mining android, adjusted the drill bit boring down into the rock. Around the drill head, another monitored the reading from the sensors packages placed, by his shorter companion. The repair droid, a squat, cylindrical and thick-clawed legged android nicknamed the boiler.

Around them the crushers, extractor, and compressors waited to isolate from the grey ore, the rare mineral Tritium, an essential component in the production of translucent steel. A transparent metal used throughout the galaxy for canopies and viewports in both star-ships, and on ground-based structures built on moons like this, where there was no atmosphere only the infinite vacuum of space, and only a sheet of translucent steel to protect the people inside.

The starship had no serial number or even a marque. Three Thousands had been built off these ugly workhorses, purely functional with no frills they could be seen all over the empire ferrying what ever was needed.

However this one, a concept of looks acting as camouflage, at a casual glance or a long range sensor probe, she was what its original builders had designed. Only this one had been modified to this high specification by its current owner. So it was one of kind and therefore carried no designation other than the name its owner had given it the Dark Star.

It was faster than an Imperium planet class destroyer, and armed with illegally acquired weapons that could take on the chaser and destroy it. Only the Imperium cruisers could match it for speed, and overwhelm it with fire power, and there the owner had installed special sensors to tell him when one was around. With only twenty in the entire Imperium, it would need a lot of bad luck to bump into one.

The extremely sophisticated and modified hyper-drive which powered it might have reached even greater speeds if a considerable fraction of its phenomenal energy had not been used for oscillation concealment. This meant no tell-tale trails of tiny distortion amid the space-time continuum to betray its position to other starships that might wish to hunt it.

Even now, sitting in the ship's clean hemispherical cabin the man moved casually to the high backed pilot's seat, strapped himself into his harness and scanned the instrumentation, with its coloured panels and 3D readouts. Forward scanners powered up and began searching ahead. On three screens above the pilots yoke, pages of computer graphics flipped through showing every interior and exterior detail of the Dark Star. From the complexity of its engines, life support, weapon systems, and even down to the interlocking valves needed to discharge waste into space, without leaving a tell-tale trail.

Satisfied he instructed the computer to go through pre-flight checks, and waited for the mandatory bank of green lights before engaging the engines. He laughed to himself, with all this technology, his boss who owned the Dark Star hated the bland voice of a computer to tell him everything was ready, had simply forgotten to install the voice synthesizers. Quickly almost instinctively, he looked across at the 3D representation of his surroundings out to three thousand kilometres. It showed empty space, as it should be. This was a backward planet with an unsolvable death wish. From its first tentative steps into space, the people of the planet had returned to fighting amongst themselves.

Quickly he switched on the four beams to illuminate the drilling site. Everything looked fine, he could leave the mining bots to get on with it, and in seven days, the hold would be full of the precious mineral. A nice little earner, but not the real reason he was here.

He laughed, that was on the planet. The green lights blinked down the three rows. It was time to pick up the next cargo, he felt himself push against the prison of his pants. A week here alone with the androids was making him stir-crazy, and in desperate need of something more pliable and soft.

Gracefully she turned and moved over the escarpment, accelerating to break the gravity of the moon.


Nasim Habib looked at the ten young Nubian girls with the cold black eyes of a slaver. Naked they hung side by side on meat hooks, normally used for the carcass of butchered young lambs. Gagged and blindfolded, their wrists tied high above their heads; their legs splayed wide apart, ankles tied to metal rings hammered into the stones beneath them. They looked like meat hanging in a butcher's freezer. Slowly he walked around their stretched bodies.

His talent scouts had done well, this was prime young female flesh, bathed, oiled, waxed smooth, and hung for display. Their shiny ebony skins contrasting with the blood splattered grey tiles, of the slaughterhouse.

He moved to the heavy breasted girl, her nipples hard with fear. He stroked her back, so smooth and flawless. She would fetch a high price in any slave market. Nevertheless, he wanted this one for himself.

With a quick swing of his hand, he brought the hard palm down on the girl's firm rounded bottom. The girl screamed and he stepped back to watch the flesh obediently glow in a deep blood red. He smiled to himself as the girl jumped and gurgled through her ball gag.

Nasim Habib was at twenty-five, just over six-foot his lean hard body hidden by his black bisht. The long black hair covered by the white cloth of his utrah. For a moment, he studied the shape of the twin hemispheres, stroking the quivering flesh and noting the graceful curve of the girl's back. She would present her twin openings perfectly to the man, whether on her back, or on all fours. His hand remained for a moment feeling the warmth of the quivering cheeks. He looked down at the dial of his diamond Rolex. In half an hour, he would be flying back to Kuwait. The twins would be there in his private plane to serve him. He wondered about taking one of the girls, maybe this one in front of him, for those two Russian vixens to play their favourite game of cat and mouse. It would be worth watching them prepare her for him. He felt his shaft fill, and he looked at those large brown eyes filled with terror.

This was a good finish to his business in Morocco.

He stroked the flat plain of her quivering belly, sliding up towards the hills of her breasts. Indifferent to her needs only her reactions to his fingertips; he flicked the girl's right nipple hard. She spluttered in pain through her gag, her nipple turning deep chocolate red like her arse. Standing back, he watched her body trembling.

He smiled at her, and knew she was close to panic.

Satisfied with what he saw Habib returned to her. "Keep control of your bladder girl, the punishment for urinating on me will be death." Shivering on the hook, he moved his right hand back to the girl's quivering belly.

Cupping her smooth sex, he gently began to tease open the full dark lips, running a finger between them, he immediately became angry. "Slut we expect the desert to be dry, not our women." Moving to her clit, he watched her body tighten, her stomach tense, and her arse cheeks clench. Running the tip around the girls' vulva, he pressed a finger to her tightness and found it still resisted him.

He wondered would her eyes grow wider when he saw him naked, would they fill with fear. She was young but her body was ripe, and that was all that mattered she was ready to reproduce, and so she was ready to please. A simple philosophy he thought for any trader in flesh.

He push gently and felt the dampness come from her virgin opening. "Good girl, you are learning, maybe just maybe I will use you for one of my clubs." Pulling his finger away from her, he looked across at the huge gorilla of a man in a dirty grey ill-fitting suit.

Amar never flinched, only the young men under him, when he fucked them.

He laughed and moved away. Maybe he would give his next visitor to Amar; after all, there was a spare hook available.

He looked at his watch again, where was the flat toned stupid Englishman?

"Now my friend is the correct time," said the voice of the man filling the doorway.

Habib turned showing for a moment surprise then anger. How the hell did he get past his two men, standing by his armoured Mercedes outside? They were supposed to be the best. He would talk to them later.

The anger quickly turned to an artificial smile that showed no warmth.

"Good evening, or maybe I should say good morning my friend," said Habib, with the smile that showed no warmth.

"Neither is appropriate to me, nor are you my friend," said the Englishman in an indifferent tone.

Habib watched him silently cross the room. He was tall, and big, yet his size was proportioned not bulk. The heavy shoulders tapered to slim hips, the leather trousers perfectly cut, hiding nothing of his strength. Around his waist a thick ornate leather belt, showed a coiled whip on his right hip, and a long sheathed knife on his left. Habib tried to contain himself from laughing; the only thing missing on the Englishman was his fucking fedora.

Nevertheless, the face showed hot sun and a life of hard landscapes. Shoulder length black hair lay across the collar of his shirt acting almost as a backdrop for the rugged face. The prominent chin seemed to support the lips that opened in a smile of perfect teeth. Above them light grey eyes separated by the straight Romanesque nose, looked quickly at the girls and then at Habib, his eyes steady and cold.

"I see you have brought the girls, they appear to be beauties, I assume none of have been with a man."

"The gates of paradise have yet to be opened on all of these lovelies," said Habib with a slight bow, his eyes never leaving the leather attaché case held in the Englishman's hand.

The man ignored the sarcastic courtesy, and placed the executive case on the small table by the girl's feet. Clicking off the catches, he offered with a hand gesture for Habib to examine.

Quickly Habib went to the case and pushed the lid back. Both the case and Habib's eyes sparkled with the pink, yellow and pure white diamonds divided inside the case into compartments that meant millions to him. This prick of an Englishman must have more money than sense ten African virgins would normally fetch two hundred thousand on a good day, this idiot wanted to give away millions.

The man moved away and along the line of girls examining each one, their beauty capturing his eyes.

Above the sparkling case Habib's watched, the Englishman engrossed in the one who would be the toy for his Lear Jet. Nodding to the giant, Habib waited. Amar was less than an arm's length from the foolish Englishman.

For a man his size Amar's huge fist came out of his coat in a blur, the heavy leather cosh swinging clear of his fingers.

The Englishman had not moved. Or had he? Habib's could not tell his eyes and brain could not comprehend the speed. The giant had stopped; he looked down surprise at the handle of the knife sticking out from his neck. The carbon composite blade had sliced through his windpipe, and on between two cervical vertebrae to sever the giant's spinal column. For a moment, he stood like stone, and then the huge form lost definition, as it folded onto the floor by the struggling screaming girl.

Habib instinctively went inside his bisht for his Glock automatic pistol. The whip burned like pure white fire on his wrist and the gun flew across the room.

"Now boy that is no way to show respect to your new master," said the Englishman.

"How dare you talk to me like that infidel," shouted Habib.

The whip cracked and his bisht ripped as burning flame branded his chest. Habib screamed in anger and rushed the Englishman, who deftly stepped to one side, tripped him and brought the edge of his hand hard down on the Arab's neck.

Blackness came to welcome him.

He awoke shivering swinging naked from the spare hook. He could feel a hand roaming over his back and across his naked buttocks. The ebony whip handle came down hard on his clenched ass, with an echo of wood on yielding flesh, Habib cried out in shock and pain jerking like a string puppet.

"Get me down infidel, and you can take the sluts, leave the diamonds and we will say no more."

The Englishman laughed, "I was doing just that before you tried to get your henchman over there to close an alternative deal. Now boy I have another, which is far better for me. I have quickly examined you and maybe I have someone who may want you. You have sound teeth, good skin and muscle tone, and," he brought up the handle of the whip to lift Habib's balls. "You could make a fine stud, he laughed. "That is of course if you keep them."

Habib felt the first stirrings of fear, the Englishman's voice grated on his nerves; it was toneless like a computer.

"I 'am Nasim Habib, I have many friends, there is no place on this earth Englishman were you will be safe, once it is known you have kidnapped me."

The Englishman laughed. "Where you are going boy, nobody on earth will ever find you."

The Englishman smacked the Arab's balls with the whip handle, and Habib lurched on the hook, the pain almost making his back snap. Gasping and trying desperately to hold onto the contents of his stomach. He shuddered and hung feeling a strange crimping in his neck.

The Englishman waited patiently.

Slowly the pain subsided and Habib felt the iron around his neck, and screamed as his mind recognised the sensations of a metal collar.

"You fucking Infidel bastard, what have you done. Take this collar off immediately, I'm no slave."

The Englishman pulled Habib's foreskin back hard, "impressive, this should make my client very pleased, she wants a stallion to break to her bridle.

The Englishman tapped Habib tender balls, and the Arab slaver winced trying to protect them by crossing his thighs. A hand shot out and pulled his balls down hard, stretching the Arab's scrotum. Habib cried out in fear and panic. The blade so recently extracted from Amar's neck had once again come from nowhere, cold and hard at the back of his scrotum just above his balls.

"Now this knife as turned a number of healthy strong males like you into whimpering eunuchs. It takes but a few seconds for you to be seeing your balls directly in front of your eyes.

"Now if you do not want to lose them boy," he pressed the blade on his sensitive skin, "and start singing like a castrato, I suggest you call me Master," said the Englishman, this time with a voice and tone that sounded direct from the grave.



From the bedroom window, the observer looked down on the girl on the sunbed, and remembered another from yesterday on the bed behind him. Her thick auburn hair in his fist, the symmetrical curve of her back angling her hips to spread her bottom and present both her vulva, and her anal-ring to him. He smiled remembering his shiny cock almost buried up to the balls inside her. Below her rounded full breasts waited to swing to the rhythm of his thrusting, as she panted out his name. He had spanked her ass and pulled her head back, almost lifting her off the bed with his hardness. She had cried out in pain and pleasure whimpering, and tensing her vagina around his cock.

"What is it you want?" His voice cold and hard, as he pulled on her auburn reins.

The woman shivered, "Please, Please," her taught throat making her voice croak, her eyes looking up at the ceiling as her body felt him move out and thrust hard back into her, filling her with pain and pleasure.

"Say it, do not waste my time." He growled.

The crack of his hand echoed back as a cry, and the soaking of his cock. He slid his hand down her smooth hips over her quivering belly to stroke her throbbing clit.

"Say it," he growled thrusting a thumb into her asshole.

"Please, Jonathan please fuck me."

He smiled and pushed her head into the mattress raising her arse higher.

The observer returned to the girl. They could have been sisters separated only by age. There in those deep, wide, intense green eyes, a narrow straight nose, and high cheekbones leading down to her fleshy mouth. All framed by falling rivulets, this time of thick golden hair fanning out from behind her oval face down to her shoulder blades. His eyes followed her slim neck down across the plateau of her chest to the hills of the girls' rounded breasts. Naked and free the twin perfection so full and firm now shone proud in oil, the darker areolar anchoring the hard shiny nipples. He continued taking in the curving flesh leading down across the concave bowl of her stomach. Sunlight flared for a moment off the silver wings of the tiny butterfly in her naval. On her hips the elasticated white line of her thong, curved across her taught stomach dipping to a white triangle of wafer thin cloth, snug against the girl's smooth rounded pubis, defining the full lips enclosed inside. She was like the one on the bed designed and made to be enjoyed by men, who would pay a high price to have her flesh gasping underneath them.

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