“Wha’s goin’ on, Slick?” he demanded blearily. “You already drank up your share of the profits?”
“Profits from what?” Need demanded.
“From sellin’ the girl to Mistress Bigaboo, o’course,” the man replied. He squinted at Need. “Do I know you?”
“No, but you’re going to.” Red Rage was creeping over Need, tinting his vision and making everything look bloody. He wanted to kill these two bastards. Clearly they had found Velda with Lan’ara inside and had taken the liberty of selling the girl to buy drink for themselves.
But if you kill them, you’ll never find out where Lan’ara is! the voice of reason whispered in his head. Be careful Need—find out where she is before you give in to the Rage.
Reaching down, he lifted the other drunk by his throat as well so that the two of them dangled like rag dolls from his hands.
“Now tell me!” he roared in their faces. “Where is this Mistress Bigaboo and what has she done with my Lan’ara?”
“She…she runs a brothel,” the second male gasped. “Down on the Southeast corner of the docks.”
“You’ll know it by the sign,” the other said helpfully. “It says ‘pretty pussy for cheap’ so it does!”
“A brothel? You sold my female to a brothel?” Need roared. “When? How long ago?”
The two of them shook their heads wildly.
“Don’t know!” the first male gasped. “Couldn’t have been too long ago—I still have half a bottle left.”
“She’s a virgin!” Need was so angry now his head was pounding. “A virgin and you sold her to a whorehouse!”
“Well she won’t be much longer if you don’t hurry,” the second male told him. “Mistress Bigaboo believes in breaking in the new girls right quick. So you better let us go if you wanna get to her before that happens.”
Need couldn’t take it anymore. With an angry move, he bashed their heads together as hard as he could and then dropped them in a heap on the dirty paving stones. He had no more time to waste with these bastards—he had to find Lan’ara and fast.
Before it was too late.
Thirty-Eight
“Come on now, girlie! The Mistress said you might be a bit shy so I’ve been patient-like. But enough is enough, I paid top dollar for you and now it’s time for you to put out.”
The huge, dirty man advanced on Lan’ara, who backed away from him as fast as she could.
“Please,” she begged. “I don’t belong here! Please, kind sir—if you could just help me get back to my rightful owner, he’ll pay you a large reward—I know he will!”
“Don’t want no ‘large reward’,” the man snarled, turning suddenly nasty. “Just want to dip my wick in your sweet honey pot, girlie. So get on the bed and spread for me—now!”
“No!” As she backed away, Lan’ara searched desperately for something—anything—she could use as a weapon. But there was nothing in the room except the flat pillow and stiff, dirty blanket on the rickety cot. She didn’t want to get anywhere near there for fear her first “customer” as Mistress Bigaboo called him, might force her down on the filthy mattress. Just the thought of that—of having him anywhere near her—had her stomach roiling.
He had backed her almost into a corner, near the dirty slit which served as a window. The faint breeze, redolent with the odor of rotten fish and filth drifted in, making her feel even more nauseous. Turning her head, Lan’ara shouted out the window.
“Help! Somebody help me! I’ve been kidnapped and I’m being attacked!”
“Yell all you want. Just who do you think is gonna come, girlie?” the huge man sneered. “You think you’re the first unwilling female Mistress Bigaboo forced to be a whore? Nobody ‘round these parts cares. So just get on the bed and spread your legs for me so we can have a little fun.”
“No!” Lan’ara gasped as he made a grab for her. She broke and ran but there was nowhere to run. In a half-second, the man had her up against the wall, caging her with his arms on either side of her head.
“Now, girlie,” he snarled, his breath thick and rotten as it blew in her face. “You’re gonna give me what I paid for!” And he grabbed her by the shoulders so she couldn’t get away.
Lan’ara felt her stomach rolling at the touch of his skin against hers. She wanted to fight—wanted to struggle—but the sudden nausea overcame her and it was all she could do to keep from throwing up all over the man.
“Please,” she gasped, turning her head to try and keep him from kissing her—which he was now trying to do. “Please, I’m going to be sick!”
Oh Gods and Goddesses, where was Need? And what was she going to do if he never found her?
Thirty-Nine
Need found the brothel the two drunk idiots had mentioned easily enough. It had a blinking holo-sign out front that showed an erect phallus squirting cum in a splashing arc over and over. Under that blinked the words, “Pretty Pussy for Cheap!!!” just as the males had described.