The Ballad of Decker Crane Ch. 03

Harp here. I used to try to juggle responding to comments in this section and releasing on time, but I've decided to abandon the effort. I just load them all in and mediators release them on their own judgment. That means there could be a real-time kerfluffle and I'm deaf to it because for me right now, that's in the future. For real time responses to any issues or comments that can't be taken care of in the comment section, see my profile. I'll keep it updated. Thanks for reading.

All characters are over the age of eighteen

Chapter Three

(Decker)

Decker woke to a perimeter alarm, an annoying beeping. His cock was hard and the sweet whore wasn't in his bed. The little beauty. He sat up and then stood, looking around. He hadn't dreamed her up. But he didn't remember her leaving, either. He couldn't have lost hold of her. Where was she? He looked under the bed. What the everlasting fuck?

The perimeter alarm went off again. He threw on his pants and then his shirt, getting a new one because she'd stolen his when she left. There was a dim memory of that. He didn't understand how she could have left without him knowing.

There was a knock on his door. Flipping the covers back, he stopped, his eyes focusing on his sheets. Blood.

The perimeter alarm sounded yet again. Things were just getting stranger. He could hardly sort it.

She hadn't been hurt anywhere to bleed. He wasn't. The placement was suspicious. She'd said the sex had hurt. He flashed on her face after. He hadn't been gentle. She hadn't told him for him to know to be gentle.

I'm new at this.

Well, how was he supposed to have known that's what she meant? Virginal was not what he'd expected from a Red Door whore, although if she was newly come from mid-system, that might also explain why she didn't know about the brikens. But not why she was so ignorant about everything else. Maybe she wasn't stupid. Something was off here.

There was another knock. He was still staring at the blood, going over the previous night in his head. And then she'd disappeared.

Rising and stripping the bed, he put on his jeans and stomped into his boots, putting on his belt with his pistol and pulling the buckle. She'd slipped from his hands. He got another shirt and put it on, not bothering to button it. He'd find her.

Decker walked and opened his front door. Theo Cochrain was standing on Decker's front porch, looking disgusted at his surroundings and impeccably dressed despite the hour, a double-breasted waistcoat and walking cane, his blonde hair slicked back. A sharp nose and square jaw. Oily little bastard.

Mr. Cochrain took him in, blinking. It helped Decker that people noticed him that way. He'd been told he was a good-looking man. Repeatedly. The little whore had found him so, if he could judge by her reaction. It had always been an edge, men underestimating him. Decker used every advantage he had to stay alive. And out of prison, if possible.

Now he wondered what had happened between Cochrain and her. He studied the man in front of him, a small smile coming to Decker's mouth. She was spirited, for sure. She'd gotten the drop on this little bastard after Cochrain had hit her in the face and whipped her. There was a bandage on his head, a nasty bump.

Two of Cochrain's men were hanging back not far, armed. Three more were on horseback, also armed. A big old display just for himself.

"Howdy, neighbor," Theo said.

Decker grunted.

"I misplaced something of mine," Cochrain said, waiting. He elaborated when Decker didn't say anything. "A woman went missing. Maybe you've seen her?" His eyes went to what he could see of Decker's house behind him, Cochrain leaning.

"Nope," Decker said, shifting into his line of sight. "What's her name?"

"It doesn't matter."

So she hadn't told this guy either. Decker's half-smile returned.

"She was on foot," Cochrain went on. "There's nothing the other way. I'd like your help finding her. Or, you could let my men go looking on your land. It wouldn't take long."

"Nope."

"I need to find her."

"The Red Door is certified." The whores had every right to leave if they wanted. They weren't prisoners. That said, women still didn't wander around Sur without a protector. She had strayed from Cochrain's protection and Decker had snatched her up. She was his, whatever this oily little bastard thought. Or, she would be when Decker found her.

Cochrain shook his head. "She's not a whore. She's mine, my own woman. I got a little ahead of myself. I need to speak with her so she understands."

"The only way any of your whores is getting on my land from the Red Door is through the briken enclosure. If she tried, she's already had her pretty little ass chewed up and shit out."

Cochrain grimaced. "Charming. As I said, she's not a whore. But perhaps money could help things along. I'll pay you three thousand dakas if you find and return her unharmed."

Decker's brows went up. "That's a lot of dakas."

"Let me add a further incentive," Cochrain said, his cane tapping his boot idly. "She needs to learn a lesson. I'm going to whip her naked in front of my men. You can add the pleasure of watching that to the price. Sally tells me you might enjoy that. After that, you can have ten tokens, each good for an evening in the Red Hall and none of the whores can refuse you. Any one you want. More than one, if you'd like. How does that sound?"

"I want to do it."

"Pardon?"

"I get to take my belt to the little runaway whore."

"She's not a whore." Cochrain looked away, his mouth tight, and then shrugged. "Fine. No permanent marks. No fucking her. No starting without me."

Decker swung the door closed. He went to the kitchen and put on his kettle, getting synth-tea, which was a stimulant, colored and tasteless. While it steeped, he put new linens on his bed. He'd have breakfast and then go get her. Whatever her name was, she wasn't used to the wilderness and she couldn't get very far on foot. He had the vaguest memory of her leaving. He couldn't imagine why he would let her go. It certainly had not been his intention.

#

Decker was more surprised she'd gotten as far as she had than the fact that Cochrain's men were behind him. He'd counted on that. A frontier bargain was set in spit, but Cochrain had just broke it sending his men. Decker led them for a while and found a spot. There were three of them.

When they came through the rocks, he stepped out, his pistol pointed at the leader. "I'm Decker. This is my land."

The leader, a big guy with ruddy skin and a full beard who had gone for his gun and then reconsidered, eyed Decker, his eyes cold. Leaning, he spit. "Emmet."

"You're trespassing."

"I apologize," Emmet said mildly. "Mr. Cochrain told me you said we could look for the woman here."

"That oily little bastard lied to you."

"Respect, Decker. He's my boss."

"That's your burden, Emil. I never agreed to take his cock in my ass. I'll know when your transport leaves. Or, I could ground your electronics and you could walk back to the Red Door through the briken enclosure."

Glaring at him for a moment and then backing the horse up, Emmet signaled. The other men turned to go, but he paused to have more of a chat. "It's Emmet. I'll see you again soon, Decker. You don't know who you're messing with."

"Or care," Decker agreed. "But maybe I'll tell Cockring that because of you, I said to hell with the money and spread the woman's legs and fucked her sweet little virgin pussy bloody while she came all over my cock."

That made Emmet angry, the pissant. When he was gone, Decker holstered his gun. He resumed his grid.

By late morning, he'd found her tracks. She'd gone to the river. He was definitely reevaluating her intelligence. Something was off here, Cochrain acting even oilier than usual and that was a whole lot of dakas to retrieve a whore who he said wasn't a whore.

Decker decided someone so stubborn would go upstream. He spent until early afternoon finding her tracks again. Cochrain was counting on Decker being too afraid of him not to hand her over, he imagined. Cochrain didn't know shit. She was getting tired and slower. He could tell by how her tracks wandered.

#

(Persya)

Persya stumbled, almost falling. Recovering, she staggered, still wearing that terrible man's shirt. She was exhausted. Filthy and hungry. She hadn't eaten in two days and she didn't know how to survive here. Her only goal had been to evade Decker and the other man, Mr. Cochrain, both of them equally horrible. She'd panicked and run and now she was lost.

It didn't matter. She wouldn't go back. There had to be something this way, eventually. Someone to help her. To help them. Surely nobody would abandon women to a place like this.

Since she'd been here, every bad thing she'd ever heard about the frontier planets had been confirmed. Going high in the landscape was her next idea, to see if she could see any other houses or people. Out of breath, she slowed. Her eyes were on the ridge. Something itched on her arm, the area bleeding now where she'd scratched at it.

When she'd first seen her rescuer, soon to become her captor and tormenter, in the light outside the fence with those horrifying animals, she'd been shocked by how handsome he was. Bigger than Beren Cromwell or Mr. Cochrain. But Decker was rough and unkempt. Even after she'd gotten out of his house, she'd run, afraid that despite her singing, he was going to notice she was gone and follow her.

The moment he had gotten hold of her, like he had the right, Decker's large hands had been all over her body, on her nipples. They'd slipped between her legs on the horse, the most delicious sensations. She'd been completely humiliated, Decker masturbating her. Then he'd done it again, ignoring her helpless cries. And after that, he had hurt her so much.

She felt tears rise. Not long ago, she'd been in her bed imagining what it would be like if Beren touched her. It had been nothing but a fantasy, she knew. He'd been a rich man toying with her. But it hadn't been this nightmare.

"There you are, stubborn," someone said behind her.

She looked back and cried out, running uphill. He dismounted and was on her, Persya struggling. She hadn't known men would be so fast. He was here. Mr. Cochrain had been easy to manipulate. But Decker almost hadn't let her go, a struggle beginning to end. She'd never imagined anyone would be so difficult to sing to. And now he'd found her. She'd walked all night and he'd still somehow found her.

"I forgot how little you are, beautiful," he said. "Did you drug me?"

She didn't answer, caught in his arms as he turned her around to face him. Even if she could sing to get him to release her, there was nowhere to go, and he'd just come after her again, angrier than ever.

"You left me," he said. "We're going to have to talk about that."

Persya's eyes swept him. Talk? After what he'd done, she would never speak to him again.

He grinned. "You're so cute when you make that face. Cochrain says you're not a whore. That seems likely, since I learned you were virginal. So, at this point, he's been more honest with me than you have. He's made me an offer. If I hand you over to him, he'll give me three thousand dakas. He and his men will watch while I whip your naked body with my belt and then he'll give me tokens for any whores I want at the Red Door."

Feeling a wave of dizziness, Persya went still, staring up at him.

"You're pale. How long has it been since you've eaten, girl?" Walking to get his horse, he returned and steepled his fingers again. "Get on."

Her eyes swept him. He must think she was stupid.

"I did, but I don't now," he said like she'd spoken aloud, straightening. "But you can't keep going in this direction. There's nothing but more of the same and then barren toxic wasteland and you'll starve to death if you don't choke first. Get on."

But Persya was remembering how he'd told her she could speak to the authorities. If she'd been able to contact them last night, or Beren, they might have already saved her sister and the other women of her house. Instead, he'd lied to her and coerced her for sex while they had suffered whatever horrors there were in that awful place. She despised him.

"You do have a stubborn streak, standing there glaring at me, you know that?" he said. "Well, it's not a bad time for you to start to learn to do what I say when I say it." Grabbing her wrist, Persya struggling against it, his foot went into the stirrup as he heaved himself up with one hand and got on the horse. "Tell me when you'd like to ride with me."

The horse moved forward, but he still had her wrist, leaning. Persya was tugged, forced to walk or be pulled off her feet. Now she was trotting. Watching her face, he made the horse go faster. Persya was barefoot, staggering, trying to keep up.

She wouldn't ask him to stop. He urged the horse. Losing her footing, Persya cried out, anticipating going under the horse's feet, but he pulled steadily and she was over the saddle just like the first time, facedown.

"Fuck, you're stubborn," he said, flipping the back of his shirt and smacking her bare butt.

She shrieked. The vicious brute. Bracing her hands on the horse's side, she shoved, stiffening, sliding back off and landing on her feet and then on her behind. She didn't care if she got trampled. He made the horse go in a circle, the animal tossing its head.

In a moment, he was beside her on the ground, down on one knee, bringing the rope he'd had looped on his saddle. "It's all right if you're a slow learner, beautiful," he said, smiling. "We'll get there." Catching at her, he began wrapping her wrists with it.

She struggled, pulling away and kicking at him.

He laughed, hauling her up, her wrists bound. "If you want to ride, all you have to do is ask nicely." With the other end of the rope in his hand, he got on the horse.

It was, again, either walk or be dragged. He was looking back at her, but she didn't look at him, her steps jerky because she didn't have her hands for balance and sometimes the horse tugged.

It was another hour-or-so before she fell the first time. He looked back at her and slowed as she twisted on the ground in his shirt, and then he stopped. She hung her head, panting. Then she got up on her knees, and then to her feet, walking again. She wouldn't ask him, seeing shake his head.

By the time another hour had passed, she was at the end of the rope, stumbling. She fell, sweating, and her arm itched. She couldn't reach it, dragging it along the ground for some relief, maddening. Getting to her knees, panting, she got a foot under her, and another. He made the horse go faster. She felt sick.

Falling again, this time the horse dragged her and then stopped.

She hated that she was crying. He was going to beat her naked in front of other men and then hand her over to Mr. Cochrain to rape. She wanted to go home. She wanted her sister, her throat thick, sniffing.

His knuckles came into her field of vision, wiping her cheek. She looked up at him. He was squatting in front of her. It didn't matter how handsome he was. He was awful.

"Hell. Those eyes," he said, shaking his head. "They'd take the heart straight out from under a man. It's a good thing I haven't got a heart, or so I'm told. Just ask me. It isn't difficult."

Her eyes narrowed. She couldn't stop him from doing awful things to her, but she didn't have to speak to him, and she didn't have to make it easy for him.

He shook his head again, rising and getting on the horse.

After that, it was a blur, the horse in front of her and dust. She tried to stay on her feet. Going down on her knees, she was yanked off of them, landing on her side and crying out, dragged across the rough ground. He stopped.

She looked up at him, panting, when he turned the horse to loom over her.

"You ask to come up here, I'll give you some water," he offered.

Water. She wanted it, feeling how dry her lips were, her mouth gummy. Her nose flared. The barbarian. She would never give him the satisfaction. Getting to her knees and then her feet, she staggered. He sighed and turned the horse.

She finally fell and didn't have the strength to get up. Her leg scraped on a rock, Persya making a miserable pain sound.

"Shit," he said, stopping and getting off the horse, grabbing his water bottle. When he got to her, he reached for her leg. "Let me see."

She reversed and kicked at him and his hands drew back.

"Dammit," he said. "Have some water, girl." He held it at her lips.

She reached and batted it with her bound hands, the water container falling and skittering away. Shrugging her hair into her face, she hid from him.

His hand grabbed the back of her neck, holding her in a tight grip. Her hair fell back and she couldn't move, caught in his grasp as he studied her, their faces close.

Reaching for the bottle and leaning to get it, he brought it back. "You haven't had water in too long. You need to drink." He upended it, water on her nose and then in her mouth as she sputtered, furious.

When he drew it back, she spit the water in her mouth into his face.

Seeing it run down his cheek, Persya began to shake, still in his grasp. He didn't move, expressionless. When he brought his hand up, she flinched, trying to get ready, but he only wiped his hand across his face. Her eyes blurred. Now he would beat her.

"I'm not going to hit you," he said, reading her mind again, and he didn't even seem mad. "That was a reckless thing, sweetheart. There's those would take deep offense to it, and I believe you know that. You're lucky I'm not one of them. I thought maybe you were being perverse because you're pissed and out of options, but now I am beginning to suspect this is your nature. A person can't change that. I won't punish you for being how you are. There wouldn't be a point anyway. But I still have to get you home."

He grabbed the rope by her wrists, which were numb, and then he grabbed her from behind, picking her up and setting her on her feet by the horse. Persya struggled, but there was nothing she could do. He heaved her up, pulling her leg over and wrapped the rope around the part sticking out of the saddle he rode, her hands trapped there. He got up behind her, getting the slack.

"Let's go, Cote," he muttered to the horse.

She struggled for a while, but it was no use. Panting, her head bowed forward over her hands.

They were finally back. He untied the knot and pulled her off, wrapping it around the post. She waited as he took care of his horse. When he was done, he squatted in front of her again and began taking the ropes of her wrists.

"Hell, baby, look at that," he said when she was free, her hands pulled close to her chest. Her wrists were abraded. "Why would you struggle in rope? It only makes it tighter."

She glared at him. Like she would know that, the idiot. She didn't care about anything else, her fingernails going to her arm, digging in. Not being able to scratch had it had been its own torture. It felt so good, and then it stung.

Sighing, he bent and got his arms under her knees and her back and lifted. Her head rocked back, off her feet. He was so much stronger than she'd imagined a man would be. No wonder he could outrun her.

"I'm assuming you don't want me to give you over to that oily bastard," he said, looking down at her as he carried her. "I can understand that. I was just letting you know what he's put on the table. This is the frontier. If you'd like, you could make a counteroffer and I'll consider it."

Like it was a mystery what he wanted from her. Like he had anything she wanted except to let her go. Persya shoved at his chest, but she couldn't summon any more strength for struggling.

When he got in, he set her down on her feet. "You need food and water and tending and I don't want to be as mean as I'd need to be in order to force your cooperation because of how stubborn you are. So, I'll tell you what. You can choose between two evils just like the rest of the world. You can sit down and drink some water. Have some food. Then, you can go in the room alone and have a hot bath if you like. Stay in there alone all day and I won't trouble you."