Prelude to a Sacracution

Zhahla was commanded by her Master to report to the chapel armory and prepare herself to participate in the ship’s Retributionist Sacracution. For the Garex farm girl this was a high honor, if an exceedingly dangerous one. The two hundred and five centimeter tall harem girl for once did not have to duck her head as she entered the shower and locker room adjacent to the amphitheater where Lord James Fujiwara’s gladiators were getting ready to take part in the weekly bout of sacred combat.

Zhahla could tell which of the professional killers had had their names drawn for the evening’s events and which had been lucky enough to have the night off. The ones who been chosen for the bitter work of fighting and killing in their Master’s name were off to one side limbering up or getting oiled and rubbed down by the Dranza attendants. They all shared a grim serious expression. one of the mortality experts, a Phaaz’n man was offering prayers to The Owner God for either a swift victory or a beautiful ****.

The ones who would only be participating in the honor guard and would not have to put their lives on the line were preening like peacocks in the fashion fab stalls getting the details of their armor just right or they were blowing off some steam getting the expungates ready to die. Zhahla walked past the line of xenos on their knees with their wrists bound behind their backs. The gladiators and their groupies were using sacramental markers to write messages to The Beast so it would know why it was being offered these people. The xenos had things written on them like ‘Tipper is a lazy bum who missed Master’s morning blowjob’ ‘Wally is an ungrateful prick who jerked off to pictures of Mistress’s sister’ ‘Buck is a naughty boy who got handsy with Master’s Beloved’ ‘Djinga is a careless cook who burned one dinner too many’ ‘Mycroft is a timid bath boy who cannot scrub me properly’ but most of the xenos about to be placed in front of The Beast had written upon their chests the same three words ‘I am Dranza’.

Zhahla walked over to the five fighters getting ready to dispense some mortality. She noticed that she was the only woman among. “They said that master Myers was sending someone over to sub in for one of us. Did you really try to crush an Amarlean with your thighs because some Core-world dick bitch tried to **** your girlfriend?” A young handsome looking Ligreon asked as he leaned on his spear in such a way that it showed off the abs the youth must have spent countless hours of training to acquire.

Zhahla blushed. The gladiator had a rugged masculinity about him that was utterly lacking in most of her masters’ harem boys. Unlike the prissy entitled twee boys Zhahla was used to hanging out with, this man had the attitude of someone who knew what it meant to be valued for what you do instead of what you are. “Well. These things do get exaggerated in the retelling. Rosie is not my girlfriend. She is just an adorable, brilliant, kind hearted, wonderful Egaz girl that I protect from the skanky bitches that think they can get away with bullying her because she is small and kind of a dorky in a cute way.”

“She sounds like your girlfriend to me.” The Ligreon gladiator said.

“She is not. I am a concubine. I am devoted to the pleasure of my master, and zer co-dominance, and their friends, family, and house guests. I would not be allowed to have a relationship with another xeno.” Zhahla insisted.

“Do you have sex with this Rosie girl?” The gladiator asked.

“Whenever I am commanded to.” Zhahla paused and thought about it. “Which is quite a bit. The Masters do find the whole dwarf-giantess dynamic to be hot.” The Garex woman shrugged all four shoulders.

“And when you do have sex with this girl, do you enjoy it?” The gladiator asked.

Zhahla thought about it and realized that she did, a lot. Rosie was an attentive lover who went out of her way to hit all of Zhahla’s special spots when they performed together. Zhahla appreciated that Rosie’s small size meant that the adorable cherubic wild caught **** girl was easy to pick up and manipulate and very enthusiastic to get tossed in the air before tossing Zhahla’s salad while the humans would watch. “Yes.” The Garex girl said.

“Then my advice is when you get back, tell her how you feel and that even if you cannot be together officially, that there is a special place for her in your heart just below where you keep your feelings for your Master.” The gladiator said.

“I can’t.” Zhahla’s slumped and sat down. “She was sold. Just a few minutes ago. I should be happy for her. She belongs to the man of her dreams. He is everything she ever wanted in an owner. A handsome, insanely rich, dashing, roguish seraphim pilot who owns a country famous for its wine, cheese, and chocolate. But…” Zhahla held her hand up to her face so that these strange men, these professional killers, would not see her cry minutes before they were supposed to stand shoulder to shoulder against the great galactic terror.

“You miss her.” Said the Phaaz’n man that Zhahla had seen praying. “It is natural to feel pain and sadness when the ties of love are strained. Love is the mother of NOXET. Just like we feel pain and longing when we are parted from the ones to whom we belong, so too do we feel the loss of those we have shared our burdens with when they are called by God’s Chosen to serve their great duty in another way.” Under those particular lighting conditions, naked xeno man’s jet black skin acted as a reflective surface for Zhahla to look at herself. The Garex girl thought that she looked like a wreck and tried to get herself in order as the onyx skinned xeno preached. “Take heart. Love is a gift given to us by our Masters so that we might better appreciate the joys of our submission. Be thankful for the love that the humans have allowed you to experience and go forth with that love in your heart. Let that love guide you on your great mission to fulfill the glory of The Master Race.”

“I don’t think the girl was looking for a sermon.” The rugged Ligreon said. “Sorry. The Reverend here has a bad habit of assuming that everyone is as crazy as the Phaaz’n are. Did you know that wild Phaaz’ns think that they can talk to trees and rocks? They believe that the spirits of nature talk to them, and they are so crazy that it generates enough psionic energy to flux reality.”

“I make no apologies for my pagan kin. I give thanks every morning and evening for my salvation. Through the light of the NOXET and the fires of the geneforge I am made pure so that I might find my place in The Divine Order. ‘For God loves you so much that Zhe created a race worthy of being your Masters so that you might show yourselves worthy of being Zer slaves.’” The man said, quoting from the Book of Overseers.

“No, actually.” Zhahla turned to the Phaaz’n man and bowed her head. “Thank you. You helped a lot. Sometimes we forget that we have to be grateful to The Masters for all the good things in life. We take it for granted that without Masters for whom we can be slaves, our lives would be a hollow, pointless existence devoid of any real meaning. Just blobs of protoplasm wandering through space without any value to anyone. ‘True connection requires The Sacrament of Bondage.’” Zhahla could not remember which of the approved scriptures she had drawn that quote, but it caused the Reverend’s face to smile and nod in approval.

“Exactly.” The Phaaz’n said.

***

The woman once known as Zelza xol Bazul, whose full name had been changed to The Artist Formerly Known as Zelda; Now Just Another One of Lord James Fujiwara’s SongSluts, was warming up for what she expected to be an exhausting night of intense playing. The band had rushed from the foyer to the Retributionist Chapel to make sure that even the early arrivals would have something to listen to while they waited for the evening’s feast and festivities. As the officers, crewmen, specialists, and their xeno attendants walked in to take their seats, many of them pointed at Zelza with looks of surprise and incredulity. There had been a lot of debate and gossip in the off hours and between shift changes whether the captain had brought his prized musician on their voyage to chart the frontier or if the six time giga-platinum selling artist was back in The Cluster on the leash of Lord Michael. The sight of Zelda SongSlut’s signature pixie haircut warming up with a violin, guitar, banjo, and tenor saxophone put all the speculation to rest.

Much to the surprise and amazement of everyone, most of all Zelza herself, was by the fact that she had begun writing her best work in the last four years since the Schar woman had become James Fujiwara’s ****. The experience of being bound to her Master had awakened something inside of the artist’s soul that she had not known had existed as a free woman. As a ****, Zelza had had her world opened to new sensations and feelings, her horizons had been broadened as the woman came to fall in love with the music of ancient Earth, especially the music the historians had classified as German Classical, Swiss Metal, British Rock, and American Country. Zelza remembered how she felt when she had heard Beethoven the first time. Listening to the 2nd movement of the archaic composer's 7th symphony and feeling transformed by its beauty. She remembered that being the moment when she truly understood why humans were The Master Race. Zelza could recall how it was youthful vanity that originally drove her music career. The Schar woman had written and performed her music in a misguided pursuit of self-expression, the naive notion that she was making art for art’s sake, and because she enjoyed the attention and adoration of her fans, especially the groupies. It took the mind expanding power of NOXET to show her that real art had to be made selflessly. Zelza dedicated herself to only making music for the glorification of Humankind and the pleasure of her owner.

The results were two albums that went Giga-platinum in her first year of residence in Arisaka Secundus’s royal palace. ‘Reborn in Bondage’ sold a billion copies in six months with ‘His SongSlut’ doing that in half the time. Lord Michael was so impressed that he commissioned his son’s prized musician to write an opera about the fall of her homeworld. ‘Three Flames Flickering’ was received with praise and won several prestigious awards including The Synod’s Choice. The original cast were invited to tour The Trinity which included performing for The Shogun herself. Zelza remembered how honored she was to be on her Master’s leash as he and his father Lord Michael sat with Inga Colacoke at the premiere performance at The Capitol Music Hall and the distinct feeling of pride she felt when the most powerful humans in the whole Federation gave her work a standing ovation.

It was not just humans that enjoyed the new musical stylings of the performer who was usually referred to as Zelda Songslut. Though her music would have been censored in The Core Worlds, Zelza continued to enjoy a strong and growing black market following among the free Schar scattered across Alliance space. It had broken her heart to learn that her entire catalog had been placed on the list of proscribed content, but that did not stop her fans from holding onto physical copies of her music and performances. Zelza had even learned that her Master and his father the Sultan made a significant profit from the sales of her material to Knavar packs who sell the recording and sheet music to middlemen who get the latest Zelza xol Bazul all the way to The Alliance Heartworlds.

Zelza remembered that fateful day when she was summoned into Lord Michael’s study. She was surprised to see her Master was there standing with an expression on his face that led Zelza to believe that the two Fujiwaras had been arguing. “Ahh, Zelda. There you are.” Lord Michael said with his deep, friendly voice that fit so well with his jovial demeanor.

Zelza had prostrated herself towards her exalted company. “My Master, Sultan, This **** is awed and humbled to be in your presence.”

“Rise and be at ease. You may refer to yourself.” When the Schar woman had gotten to her feet, the Sultan gestured to the bar where a Zee-Rai was mixing drinks. “Would you like something?”

Zelza knew that it would be rude to refuse an offer of such magnamity. “Whatever red my lords believe best.” Without taking her eyes off of the two hands shaking a martini, the Zee-Rai bartender used her other two hands to pour a glass of merlot.

“Cheers.” Lord Michael said clinking glasses with the ****. “The reason that you were summoned is because my son and I would like to present you with a choice.” Zelza almost spit up her wine at the words. Her expression of incredulity caused amusement to spread among the humans. “I cannot blame you for being surprised. But Jimmy and I had been arguing over this for over an hour before Reagan had the brilliant idea that we should just let you be the tie breaking vote.

“As you know, Jimmy’s new ship is almost finished with her trials. When his illuminator class cruiser is finished my boy wants to go out playing Captain Kirk…”

“Cook Dad. Captain Kirk was fictional. Captain Cook was a real ancient Earth explorer.” James said.

“Whatever.” Lord Michael said with an exasperated sigh and an affectionate smile. “Can you believe they finished Jimmy’s 30th birthday present two years early? I wanted to get him a pleasure yacht, but he said that he refused to command anything that could not beat a Kroxaa battlecroc in open space. HA!” Lord Michael shook his head. “You would think he would have had enough action for a few decades after conquering your homeworld. Anyway. Jimmy is making the final preparations for his voyage to chart the frontier under The Company flag. He wants to take you with him. He thinks that you will act as a big boost for the crew’s morale and that your reputation might be helpful in dealing with future supplicants. I reminded him that in additions to the inherent risks with such a voyage, that you have several sold out shows that would have to be cancelled and refunded in addition to the fact that your new opera about the The Second Nuclear War is at a critical stage of development. but Jimmy is insistent. So my dear. Would you like me to buy you? ” Lord Michael asked.

“My Lord. I. I do not understand.” Zelza said sheepishly.

“It is very simple Zelda. Do you want to go with James and Reagan to explore unknown space, or do you want to stay here as my **** and continue your work?”

After a long pause, the artist who used to be Zelza but was now the **** called Zelda asked. “What about my children?”

“The twins are essential equipment. The experimental psionic auspex requires expert specialists, a role which Schar twins are uniquely suited for.” Reagan said.

“And my son?” Zelza asked.

“He is just a common bitch boy.” James said. “I was not planning on taking that particular pecker polisher, but if his presence matters to you, then sure, we can take him with us.”

“Thank you, Master.” Zelza said. “I will do as I am commanded by the one to whom I belong. If my Master is benevolent and kind enough to keep my family together, then I am grateful for his generous magnanimity.”

That day, that last choice, came back to Zelza in a rush as she saw her boy being led into the captain’s box on the security chief’s leash with a new collar and a new name. She felt her throat tighten as it occurred to her what had happened. Her son had been traded, gifted, or sold to her owner’s best friend’s spouse. She thought about how since they were first assigned a holding cell on the ship that took them from Scharun, Zelza and Zolink had shared a small cot most nights together since their enslavement. One of the few privileges that Zelza had wrangled out of her fame and value was the small luxury of being able to share her living space with her child that did not have rare psionic powers. Zelza realized that last night was the last night that she would fall asleep with her twee baby boy in her arms.

“Hey.” Gunther the Amarlean bassist said, looking at where Zelza was looking. “Your boy seems pretty happy. You were always telling us that he is the kinda guy who wishes he was owned by a woman. He probably thinks that he slammed the golden raffle being collared to a transcendent.” Zelza looked closer at her Zolink to see that her sweet boy was grinning at his Master as he rubbed zer neck and shoulders with his antenna while Amandla’s fingers and font reached under his skirt. Her son had always found adjusting to their new lives difficult, especially after Lord Michael had learned that he was straight and had him sent back to James’s service. Now, after struggling for so long as CandyShaft YummyCum, Zelza thought that her son might have found his place as Shasta.

Zelza turned her attention away from her son and the audience and towards her band. Gunther on bass was good to go. Daarwulf the Ligreon was on second guitar was loose and lively. The wide eyed and jittery Zee-Rai on drums gave a thumbs up. On keyboard was another Schar woman, a long haired elfin beauty named Seluna who was already playing an ethereal tune. Last was the brass section. Five Dranza had been drawn from the holding pits and assigned to play a trumpet, a trombone, a french horn, an alto saxophone, and a baritone saxophone. It never ceased to amaze Zelza how versatile the Dranza could be. Gifted, or cursed, with brains that were highly suited for absorbing photodidactic engrams, it was often taken for granted the svelte young green girls were highly trained experts at nearly any job assigned to them. After figuring on who would be playing what, the five Dranza ran through some basic warmup before they all agreed that they were ready.

The Artist Formerly Known as Zelda; Now Just Another One of Lord James Fujiwara’s SongSluts picked up her saxophone and took the reed out of its water and prepared to jam.“Alright my xenos. Let’s get this sacracution started. And a one, and a two and a one, two, three…”