CHAPTER ONE

Blythe

 

When I volunteered to become an entertainer, I had no idea I would become a whore – let alone one shipped across the entire galaxy. I shouldn’t have been so eager, but the money was too good and signing the contract without taking anything too seriously came easily. The entire transaction was legit. Supposedly. There was nothing I could do once the ink dried on the paper. Who could I ask for help? My parents? My mom’s dead, and my dad’s the reason I signed the contract.

I could only hope the money promised was as concrete as the contract I had signed.

How would I know from five billion miles away?

Would I ever find out if the money I sent helped my dad at all? Did it matter? Would he still smile, in selfish relief, if he knew his oldest daughter had sold herself to become an intergalactic space whore?

This leads to me to where I’m at right now.

I glance around the room, taking note of the faces as the ship transports me my next assignment. As usual, everyone’s young, female, and at least somewhat athletic. All the girls train when we have a free moment but having something in common didn’t exactly make us friends. Quite the opposite. We look out for ourselves, save for a few of the high-class entertainers who always manage to work jobs together.

Frowning, I lower my cup of water. This isn’t a bad room. There’s enough space for all of us to stretch out and there’s a separate space if we need to take a piss. Accommodations have been a lot worse, but there’s still no telling how long this supposed situation will last.

“Where are they taking us?” one asks, ruining my quiet assessment. I glance up to find a pair of piercing blue eyes fixating on my much darker ones.

That’s how it is on a lot of these journeys. So many girls turn to me for answers. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe I look old or more experienced. Maybe I’m more approachable than the others. Either way, enclosed in this locked room with nineteen other girls, I’m not surprised when several of them flock towards my corner. I lick my lips and take in the first who’s brave enough to speak to me, recognizing her immediately.

Doesn’t mean I have to be friendly about it.

“I don’t know, Ellis,” I shoot back, dismissing my polite trained ways of speaking I use with clients. I don’t want to let worry show on my face, but this situation is outside the norm.

Twenty Human Whores locked in pleasant accommodations, if not for the fact we’d all be forced to spread our legs later for whoever purchased us.

Still though, twenty? It seems a bit excessive. Maybe it’s for another alien bachelor party of some sort.

Sighing, I remember I deserve this. I signed the papers. I boarded the shuttle without a second thought to my future or safety.

“There are twenty of us here, you know,” Ellis goes on, glancing around the sterile enclosed room we’re bunked in. She openly expresses all my worries in her submissive, yet obviously intelligent voice. “Twenty. What could anyone possibly want with twenty girls at once?”

“Bachelor party?” I guess sarcastically.

“Maybe they’re like the Entlas?” one asks hopefully, and I’m immediately drawn to her young face and near black eyes. “They weren’t so terrible. Some were kind.”

“Doubt it,” York says before swallowing. “Maybe they’re Sidyths?”

“You think they’re like the Pluefs? Or the ones with the fins?” The one with dark eyes swallows. “Or Drakens?” She finishes in a small voice.

A lot of these girls are new to me, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re new to the system altogether. There are formal training academies all over the galaxy, and they’re all buying up humans and humanoids with names I can’t pronounce. Humans are a commodity in the universe because no one cares about a human’s welfare. The mentality was, ‘what could we possibly do? Fly home? Alert the Galactal Federation? Please, go ahead’, followed by chuckling. Earth doesn’t belong to the Galactal Federation. To most, humans are only a few steps better than how humans view dogs. We’re pets. Adorable pets. Pets who can give pleasure.

And so, Human Whores became the accepted name for girls like us as a whole.

I’m sure it could be worse.

I turn my head slightly to face the one who asked about the Drakens and absently wonder what her deal is, but I want to also maintain my aloofness in this tiny space. If word gets around I know things – any things – they’d look to me as their leader. And in this world – the last thing I want is to be seen as a Madam. The less we know about each other, the better.

Made it less painful when we’re separated.

“Drakens,” the woman continues. “You hear me? They could be Drakens.”

“I heard you.” I can’t hide my annoyance. Of course, I’ve considered the possibility of being purchased by Drakens. Probably for some gallivant party. Drakens could afford it, but I didn’t want to be part of some alien version of a bachelor party. Drakens – though rich – were not kind.

“Say something,” the girl continues.

“How about shutting the fuck up?”

“I sure hope it’s not Drakens,” another girl mutters – Sloane. Sloane Clark. She’s a few years younger than me and dumb as a brick when it comes to books, but smart enough when it comes to staying alive. Her light blue eyes are in direct contrast to her blood red hair. She’s pretty. Most of us are.

“Drakens are rough,” she adds softly.

“Not good tippers either,” one says hoarsely, laughing. Experience always rings in Arizona’s voice, so much so that a few others join in meekly, but I merely shudder along with Sloane. From across the room, I notice Arizona hasn’t changed much from when I first met her at the training academy. That’s how experienced girls like Arizona were.

They’d come from time to time, between assignments, to teach the new girls a thing or two. She’s pretty enough, especially for working in this business for a decade longer than most of the others, but there’s also something I don’t like about her. Her stupid stage name? Her lackeys, Alaska, Dakota, and Kansas, who go with her on every job? Maybe her reputation around the stars?

Arizona does this. Arizona does that. Arizona never minds when I stick it there. Blah blah blah.

Or maybe it’s that though she’s pushing thirty, she’s a horrible combination of looking young and acting like a bitchy mama hen. She has the most amazing almond colored skin with a perfectly matched eye color. Her body’s tight and toned like a gymnast’s, and though she’s short, she commands everyone’s attention in every room. Rumor is she’s dominated a few aliens herself – an absolute rarity for a human whore.

Her lips pull into a smirk when she catches me looking at her, and unfortunately, I glance away too late before she notices. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” she teases, elbowing Dakota.

“No. I’m worried we’re heading to a Draken bachelor party,” I say, doing my best to keep my composure.

“Why?” Arizona smirks, lowering her eyes to my chest. “Oh. Yeah. I guess that would be a concern.”

No one joins in Arizona’s laughter this time. They all know what she’s inferring, and she’s not wrong to point it out.

Drakens? Those motherfuckers hate large tits. On the rare occasions I could get one to carry a conversation, I learned they got in the way when they wanted to suck the skin over my heart.

“Hey, at least you all have the latest language transmitters. They didn’t get a chance to update mine after they pulled the last one out,” one sulks. Winter – whatever her last name is, tugs absently at her ear.

“Oh boo-fuckity-who,” York sneers. “Consider yourself lucky you don't know what these creeps are going to say to us.” She pulls her knees up to her chest and looks around the room from her seated position on the floor.

York Albright – I’ve worked with her a few times. She isn’t the prettiest chick in the room, but she is the smartest. Unfortunately, she’s also a smartass who uses sarcasm to mask how afraid she is of anything. She’s only twenty-one with decent dark blond hair and brown eyes, but she’s already seen some of the worst the galaxy has to offer, so her mouth is permanently set in a skeptical frown. I leave her be for the most part.

“Personally, I don’t want to ever hear what these fuckers think about humans in general,” Sloane says, and I can’t argue.

“Seriously,” Alaska says after getting an approving nod from Arizona. Her accent from home is still thick on her tongue. “Where are we going? Does anyone know anything?”

“My last owner didn’t say anything,” I say lowly.

“Neither did mine,” says Sloane.

“Use your brains, ladies. Twenty Human Whores?” York says. “Most with language transmitters? Most having worked before? It can’t be good.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” someone chirps up with a smile, and I immediately want to smack it right off her face. She’s young and inexperienced. Easy to see she hasn’t been broken in yet thanks to her styled white-blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. “Personally, I’m kind of excited. Traveling the universe isn’t something everyone can do.”

“You’re fucking diluted, Phoebe,” York sneers. “You’re acting like this is some summer vacation. Don’t you get it? We’re slaves now.”

“Entertainers!” Phoebe chirps, rising to stand. York doesn’t bother to move. Alaska and Arizona smirk, and I barely manage to hide mine. This bitch is fucking clueless. “They said we’d be entertainers. That we’d travel the galaxies! How can you all be so negative about everything?”

“Maybe because I’ve been entertaining for too long,” York says. “Sit before you piss someone off, yeah?”

“But—”

“Sit down, Phoebe,” Arizona snaps.

And so she does.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the room as Phoebe whispers to the girl next to her. Probably some overexcited bullshit about traveling the galaxies. What a newbie. She has no idea what’s about to happen to her.

That’s the thing about some of the new girls. They start out so excited and ready for something new and fresh to do.

Travel the skies!

See the stars!

Send the money back to your families!

Entertain some of the most interesting beings in the galaxy!

What could possibly be wrong with that?

The term entertainer is such a laugh. We’re not entertainers. We’re whores. Toys. Pets. Slaves. The only things keeping us alive and mostly intact are our rarity and mythical contracts.

Speaking of which…

 

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