Yet, I’m not stupid. I can see them looking at my drab clothes and plain face, glancing at each other, wondering why the hell I’m here.
Sarah holds her hands up to the crowd of beauties. She’s clearly respected among them.
“Sit down, ladies, sit down. Mia’s got a story to tell!”
Then, she pauses.
“She’s not here to join the harem.”
As soon as Sarah tells them I’m not joining their harem, I see much of the confusion disappear from these women’s faces. They’re no longer wondering why the Aurelians would bring a low-class, bland woman into their ocean of exotic beauty.
I’m a maid. I’m here to clean. Of course.
I hate that I feel envy towards them. I know I shouldn’t. I’m not here to be just another woman in an Aurelian Harem – just one hole for those three gorgeous aliens to fuck, if they deign to find me worthy of their dick that day.
No, I’m here to work… according to my story.
In truth, I’m here relieve those three gorgeous warriors of an exotic possession – or three to be exact. Possessions worth more than I could ever hope to earn in my entire lifetime, even without resorting to honest work.
Still… It’s intimidating to be standing in a room in which every woman is more beautiful than me. Any of these gorgeous specimens would have men crawling over broken glass just for a chance to speak with them.
Like children gathering for story time, the women of the harem take their places on couches, or sit cross-legged on the floor, all watching me raptly.
I realize what makes this different to the last jobs I pulled. In those capers, I just had to convince the members of a single family I was a maid, and make sure they weren’t suspicious. Everyone else working alongside me just assumed I belonged – after all, as paid servants themselves, why wouldn’t they?
But here? The situation is very different. I have to tell my story in a way that is believable to all of the women of the harem – some of whom might have joined the harem coming from circumstances as grim as my own, knowing just how scheming a hungry young woman can be.
I gulp. Thirty sets of eyes are staring up at me, fluttering beneath perfect eyelashes.
“I… I come from Sector 4,” I stammer, and I see the nods of understanding. My drab clothes match what they’d expect from a woman of the city’s poorest neighborhood.
Their sympathy and understanding alarms me. Suddenly, everything I’d thought I’d known about Aurelian Harems is getting turned on its head. I thought the women who joined the harems were all poor and desperate – but as I stand before them, I can tell that some of these women came from noble families themselves. They weren’t escaping poverty, but actively seeking to become the disposable plaything of these horny aliens.
I know this to be the case – because while all these women are now gorgeous, in finery and perfect makeup, the noblewomen stand out like a sore thumb. It’s in their demeanor. They carry themselves with just that little extra confidence – not haughty, but proud.
Proud – and yet they threw away everything to enjoy the carnal delights of three Aurelian warriors. What must their families think? And why don’t these women care?
My mind reeling, I continue my tale:
“I didn’t have much,” I tell them, “so, when an off-world merchant came into our marketplace and announced he was looking for maids and cooks… I didn’t have any experience, but I went for it anyway. He paid up front. I thought it was a dream come true at the time…” I raised my fingers to my eyes, to touch my bruised face – knowing that it looked like I was wiping away imaginary tears. “Really, that was his way of exerting control. He wanted to… He wanted to…”
The girls all look away. They can read between the lines – which I appreciate, because it means they simply assume what happened, instead of my having to lie to them explicitly.
As the girls return their gaze to me, I continue:
“When I wouldn’t let him take advantage, he hit me.” Darr left very convincing evidence on my face to attest to that part of my story. “I ran away, but he followed me into the marketplace… That’s when Cyrus, Gallus, and Varian saved me.”
The girls all nod knowingly – as if there was no question those three Aurelians would do such a thing.
“I don’t know what I would have done without them,” I stammer. This is the painful part – the part that hurts. I feel awful, lying to these strangers – who’ve shown me nothing but kindness and a warm welcome. “They bought out my contract, so I guess I’m here to…” I shrug. “Cook, and clean, and whatever else they need.”
The women giggle. One of them – a short-haired lady with big, innocent eyes – smiles up at me. Those eyes flash, and suddenly I suspect she’s not as innocent as she looks.
“There’s not much work to do,” the girl admits. “They actually let us hire servants if we don’t feel like cleaning up.”
I blink. “So… What do you guys actually do here?”
There’s a chorus of laughter, and I suddenly blush despite everything. Of course. A harem isn’t a group of women that the Aurelians just look at.
Although, in some way, it almost feels like that’s the case.
This looming, vaulted mansion is filled with works of priceless art. Maybe half the reason the Aurelians chose these women – so diverse in their looks, yet unique in their beauty – is to simply compliment the decor.
One of the women in the harem – a pale-skinned beauty with buoyant red curls – suddenly looks at me with open hostility. Despite the smiles and warm welcome, I start to see the cracks beneath the veneer of laughter and giggles.
It’s like I don’t fit in.
It’s
