Unspoken
Prologue
I turn my head to the side as I close my eyes and think of Chikyuu, my home, my family, my friends, the life I used to have, the life I should still be living. His grunts are drowned out as I recall the crashing sounds of the waves as they once came ashore on the turtle hermit’s island. The aroma of fresh baked pastries my mother used to always purchase conceals the smell of his sweaty body. As his lips devour one of my breasts, I recall Yamcha, my teenage crush’s nervous attentions, how he would fumble with his hands, not knowing what or how he should touch me. Kami, I miss the days when I knew no more about the male body than a bashful virgin. But now I can barely remember them.
He hoarsely cries into the night, I feel his seed empty into my womb. He is done with me. After a few brief moments of rest by my side, he pulls the covers over us, loosely draping his arm across my breasts as he begins to nod off. At least once later in the night he will awake a take me again, but until that debasing moment, I keep my eyes closed, willing myself to sleep. Not that I will. I have not known the bliss of true, peaceful sleep since my home was destroyed five years ago. I was nineteen then, a little girl who thought she had the world at her fingertips. But I quickly came to learn how naïve I was. A fate served to me by the race of the bastard that lay beside me; the most feared and brutal warriors in the universe; killers of planets, destroyers of species, and conquerors of the weak.
Saiya-jins.
The title struck fear into all who knew of them. Their reputation for purging, raping, and pillaging planets preceded them almost everywhere they landed. Their thirst for bloodshed makes them an unscrupulous people who do not give a damn about anyone but their own, and even then the loyalty is limited. To put it simply, they are monsters. I would suffer a thousand tortuous deaths to see every last one of them eradicated. They are a plight on the universe, and to my horror, I must experience their brutality first hand.
Brolli is the name of the beast that calls himself my master. He purchased me five years ago, after I was collected by one of the manhandling monsters on the squad that annihilated my people. After being thrown onto a rank ship, I spent six miserable months traveling to this fiery rock of a planet called Vegeta-sei. My first destination after arriving was to the Seriichi, what we ningens would have called an auction block. After being stripped, cleaned and redressed in humiliatingly indecent clothing, I was to be sold into slavery. I was paraded in front of what appeared to be hundreds of salivating barbarians, waving their currency in the air, hoping they could purchase a fuck for the next few nights.
I was told I was a fortunate one. Apparently my Saiya-jin-like features, combined with my exotically colored blue hair and eyes made me a well sought after prize. It felt like an eternity that I was to be degraded by the ogling eyes of the murderous race that stole my life, but when it all ended I came face to face with the man who had won the right to claim me—the man currently sleeping next to me.
A member of the elite purging forces, Brolli was one of the wealthier purchasers. I have had a long lasting debate with myself, whether or not by being given to an elite was an advantage or disadvantage. It was well known that the higher-ranking warriors treated their slaves better, mostly because they could afford so many and thus disperse their tortures more vastly. But with the lower class warriors the longevity of a possession would be grotesquely shorter, though frighteningly more horrific. Yet, being as though many nights I have stayed up late, praying death would come and take me, the benefits perhaps are not worth the permanence of the term of misery.
My first few nights were by far the worst. After bringing me to his lavish home, I was properly bathed a prepared for him. Though the gown I wore seemed fit for a princess, it did little to shelter me from the fact that I was to become a man’s private whore. When he entered the bedroom I was placed in, he had an utterly condescending gaze upon his face. He removed his clothes and then ordered I do the same. When I sat still, not flinching under his demand, he became violent with me, forcing my meager covering off and thrusting me roughly onto his bed. I kicked, scratched, and pounded against his exposed flesh, but my thrashings only served to feed his passion.
I swallowed my scream when he rammed his engorged member into me. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that along with my pride he had taken my virginity. Though tears steadily rolled down my cheeks as he continued to violate me throughout the evening, I did not whisper a single murmur in response. I was too shell-shocked.
When he finally finished with me, evening had turned into morning and he was ready to leave my battered and bruise body to be attended to, so that I may be available for his use the next evening. Secretly I vowed to take my own life, damning the consequences, just so that I would not give him the satisfaction of having me another night. But I was never given the chance after receiving a poignant warning from Ezria.
Ezria was sort of the matriarch of the household. She was in charge of all the servants, and more specifically, the comfort women. The stout elder female lifted me in her strong arms and carried me to the servants’ regeneration tank. I was in it for five hours before my physical wounds were healed. When I stepped outside of the healing machine, I was given a modest robe and then shown to my chambers. All of the master’s women have their own rooms, more for his convenience than ours, but it does award us some privacy.
Once I was inside I received a brutally honest assessment of what the remainder of my life would be like. Aside from being the master’s convenient fuck at any moment during the day, I was also to work as a server. It is the responsibility of his women to wait on him hand and foot, and degradingly, any of his comrades when they are in his home.
I had only half listened as Ezria ran down my list of duties; my mind was still spinning with various ways to, as painlessly as possible, take my own life. After spotting the open window in my room, I decided to break it and use the shattered glass to slit my wrists. It seemed like a flawless plan, and may very well have worked, had my mind not been conscious enough to hear Ezria’s final warning.
"And do not think about taking your own life." I sometimes think she had been reading my mind as she said so. "The master’s rule is that he will massacre the entire staff for the selfish act of one, so do not dare consider ending your life at the expense of ours!" Her words still haunt me to this day. Every time I think I have had enough, I envision the faces of my comrades in misery, murdered because of my actions. It is that image that has kept me alive to this day; that, and the numbness that makes life easier to live.
After a week, then a month, and then a year had gone by, what little life I had in me was completely extinguished. Broken is what I now am, both physically and mentally. I think a part of Brolli is gratified to know that he has made me the numb motionless body in bed that I am today. I can no longer feel anything when he takes me. I cannot cry, scream, curse, or fight him anymore. I am empty, completely and totally dominated by another living being.
I have seen him do it countless times with the twelve women he purchased after me. Five are still among his core. Three have since died in his company, and four were subsequently sold. The master is particular in his types of women. He likes to have many to select from. Never has his private Harem been less than twenty women strong, some being willing bed partners, and many being detached as myself. But he uses all of us. Fortunately since he has had me for so long, his interest seems to have waned. I am only summoned, on average, once a month for his pleasure. A staggering decline considering he used to want me night after night. Not that I am complaining, of course, I can only hope eventually he will ‘demote’ me to being a simple house slave. At least that is not as degrading.
His arm begins to move and I feel him grasp one of my breasts. After fondling it for a few moments, he releases it and moves to wrap his arms around my waist and pull my body flush against his. I feel his erection stabbing my thigh; it seems he wants me again.
He makes no immediate move to take me, and I am confused by this until his hand grasps my cheek and he turns my eyes to meet his. His ebony orbs gaze into mine evocatively as he asks, "Why do you still refuse me after so many years?" My first thought is that he must be joking in asking such an absurd question, but when he continues, I realize he is truly in ignorance. "I have been a benevolent master, ne?" He strokes my hair. I want to scream at him, curse him for having the gall to enact such an affectionate gesture, but as always, I say nothing.
"Hm… I wish you could tell me what is going on in that pretty little head of yours, Aoiro." I cringe inwardly as I hear his given name for me. I hold some guilt in his using it. After all, I would never privilege him with knowing my true name. "Then maybe I can change the way you feel about me." I want to laugh at him. The elites are supposed to be the smartest of the Saiya-jin, and yet, he is oblivious to my reasons for hating him. A part of me wants to part my lips and tell him how I truly feel, but I will not. He does not deserve such a privilege after the years of hell he has put me through.
I suppose he is bored with talking to me because he pulls the covers away from us and begins to abuse my body once again. He has me on my hands and knees; clearly he wants to remind me that I am merely his pleasure pet, and that his previous questions are of genuine confusion, not concern. He is a little rougher with me than usual as I bury my head into my pillow to muffle my groans. With every stroke he becomes more violent. It seems he was more displeased with my complacency than I imagined.
At some point he grabs a clump of my hair, and forces me to kneel with him. His hand encircles my throat, and for a split second I silently pray it is my time to cross the boundaries of this dimension into the next, but the pressure he applies is not enough to end my miserable existence. "You know," his lips are right against my right ear as his tail begins to slide down my pelvis. A lump forms in my throat as I feel him pull my legs further apart. "I have been very patient with you, Aoiro, but I must be honest, your defiance is getting old." With a rough thrust his tail has done what I feared, entered my body.
It is one form of torture to have a man forcibly dominate your body, but it is another type of mortification when he knows how to make your body willingly respond to him. "Now, I think it is only fair to give you warning that if you do not become more welcoming of advances, then I may just have to put you back up on the Seriichi, and purchase myself a more compliant body." He emphasizes the words in the same moment my body collapses against his weakly. Damn it! It is not fair how my body betrays me, and how eagerly he exploits it. "How would you like that?"
I will not reply. Even as he dizzies my mind with his gentle ministration, I will not allow him to believe that I will one day come to him willingly. My lack of reaction seems to anger him, and he abruptly removes his tail from me and then throws my body back down onto the bed so he can finish what he started. After I hear a groan of bliss cried from his lips, I feel his massive body collapse atop of mine. I am suffocated for a few moments before he pulls out of me and rolls to my side. His gaze pierces me.
"Think about what I say, Aoiro," his fingers glide up and down my back. I feel like vomiting. "You are one of my favorites; I would hate to have to give you up." He seals his admission by biting my shoulder playfully. He thinks he has won. He never will.
As he drifts off to sleep once again, I close my eyes and hope that I can be taken from my nightmare for at least a little while. Even though I know I won’t. I no longer have any hopes or dreams of escape. I do not have enough strength left to wish for my knight in shining armor to save me. Because the cold, hard truth is that my life is unchangeable. I live solely for the pleasure of one of the sons of bitch’s who destroyed my home. I will never know what it is like to feel pleasure, to not live in fear, to know the comfort of companionship, and dare I even say love.
What is left of my heart breaks at the thought. Love, I can barely remember what it felt like to be loved. Not, of course, that it matters now. The memory only makes me want more for what I have lost. Because the truth is that I live through another. There is no freedom for me, no peace, no hope. My soul is dead. I can only pray that my body will soon follow.
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He screams, begs for my mercy, but I show him none. He deserves none for the hell he has put me through for the last twenty-five years of my life.
My father, Vegeta, king of the great Saiya-jin Empire—correction, soon to be former king of the Saiya-jin Empire will no longer rule my life. It is my time to rise. For years I have dreamt of this moment, when I would be strong enough to finally defeat the bastard who has made my life a living nightmare since the day I was born. We Saiya-jins do not feel great affection for our kin, my father knew someday I would take his throne, just as someday my son will do the same to me, but I will not punish my brat for destiny as my father has me.
He looks at me with fury in his eyes as he begins yet another pointless assault. I easily knock him down, to the cheers of all the elites gathered around me. They do not want me to succeed my father, I am not so naïve as to believe their encouragement is genuine, but I bask in the false sentiment anyway. They are not as brainless as they all look; they know whose side they must be prepared to switch to. It is inevitable. It is finally happening.
Once he has been brought to his knees, I ask my father if he has any final words. To my shock, he does, and with all the cruelty left inside of him, he spews his final embittered syllables, "You, boy, are not fit to take my place. You are too soft, just like your mother."
I snarl as I hear him mention her. He has no right to speak of her! Grabbing him by the throat I hoist his beaten body into the air as I challenge his claim, "Too soft!?" He will not falter in his demeanor. "We will see just how soft I am."
The crowd cannot pull their eyes away or silence their boisterous chanting as I beat my father to death. I feel no remorse as I do so. The man was a true coward behind his domineering exterior. He deserves to die such a humiliating death.
When I finish, my gloves, armor, and face are spattered and smeared with my father’s blood. After swiftly disintegrating his body with my final breath of energy, I lay my claim to the throne, and dare anyone to contest my capability. Silence ensues for several minutes before Nappa steps forward; he was my father’s top advisor and military leader, if anyone was to start a mutiny, it would be he.
I feel my breath catch in my throat for a moment before the burly man kneels before me and pledges his allegiance. The crowd soon follows in taking a knee, and vowing to honor me as their new king. I would never allow the mild relief I feel to be shown, but some part of me is appeased I do not have to kill any of them for dissention. Political purges were my father’s manner of ruling; I would much rather use my advanced intellect to keep my inferiors inline.
Raising my hand in acknowledgment of their testament, I dispense a few brisk threats to make certain my father’s ‘soft’ claims are refuted, and then announce that my first order of business will be to sift through and clean up the purging sectors that my father has arbitrarily designated in the past. Since I receive no blatant signs of concurrence or defiance for my plans, I assume all is well and I take to the air to return to my castle to begin eradicating my father’s essence from my fortress.
Vegeta-sei is now mine to rule, and I will damn well do so in a likeness that contradicts my predecessor.
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