Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Thee Untamed Soldier ❯ Redemption ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

note: I personally apologize for the agonizingly slow update. It would seem that, the army has had me doing other things, which doesn’t include free time. Here is the next chapter, I’ll dedicated this chapter to my reviewers. I’ll try not to disappoint you.

Disclaimers: I don’t own any Dragonball Z rights, and/or Copyrights
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Giving her a skeptical sidewards glance, he did as she requested. She edged back to her feet and put a length of the militant tent between them, standing with her back to the exit, hugging herself defensively. Her posture made him see her as a child, not a women, and he was suddenly somewhat ashamed of his behavior. By all the galactic guardians, he had treated her as he would a common space whore, and she was a young defenseless slave. A virgin at that, certainly not more then sixteen. Perhaps the real question wasn’t who was she, but what was she? A virgin or whore, villein or lady, child or women? Spy or innocent?

“You may begin with your name.”

She wet her lips before she complied with his simple yet determined command. “Bra. Bra Briefs. As I’ve already told you before, my father is Malcolm Briefs. Both my parents are deceased, and were once the Capsule Corps. founders. My father was the chief scientist and inventor. He ran the business, building it from the ground up---he was killed under the full-moon when Bardock and his sons came hear to seek cover from Frieza; they never new that or system worked differently then your own; but your race did. They knew how valuable Earth would be and the resources it could provide to your planet…I was told that was all that spared us and are home world. How fortunate for us.”

She flinched. “And you were right---these clothes are a disguise.”

Tersely he said, “Were you sent to me as a spy?”

“No!” She was pale. “I was disguised because I was meeting someone. A---A man of some sort.”

And Vegeta understood. “Hmm…I see now. A man.”

Again her small chin lifted. “It’s not what you think! The man was, I mean, he is arranged to be my husband.”

His stare was ice. “You have yet to explain your disguise.”

“Well isn’t it obvious enough? It’s unseeingly for a women slave, even with my elected status to be caught with a man, even when that man is to be their husband, and you already assumed as much, stop playing me for a fool!”

“And pray tell, who is this paragon warrior I assume. Who’d lure you to an undoubted fall from havens grace, Little one?”

She bit her lip. “Why is it your concern?”

It shouldn’t matter, except for the fact that he intended to verify every word she said. “It matters.” He was not pleased to realize that he was irritated---perhaps even jealous---that this women obviously desired another man. “Do you love this warrior?”

She was furious. “That, Prince Vegeta, is none of your business! Prince or no Prince.”

It wasn’t. He stood stiffly, finding his staff in order to lean upon it. Then he limped to her until he was towering over her even if it was only by 2 inches, his body was massive and the very air he breathed was intimidating; but she stood her ground. The wild exotic minx she was.

“To the contrary, women, you are now wholly my affair. And until I am satisfied, you will be detained.”

She lost the little color she had left. “Until you are satisfied, I will be detained! What do you mean?”

“I mean,” He said grimly, “that I intend to unearth the truth, about you, and until I do, you are my guest.” He hobbled past her, raising the tent flap.

“Your guest!?” She cried after him. “You mean that I am your prisoner! But why? What have I done? I have done nothing, Saiyan!”

He paused and turned. “To the contrary, Slave. You have whetted my very jaded appetite, and my even more jaded interest. If you are indeed of little importance, I think we will suit well, you and I, for a time, at least.”

Bulma stared after his back as he limped from the tent, leaving her alone. What did that last remark mean? Oh, Kami! She dared not delude herself. He suspected her deceit, intended to find the truth, and whether he did or not, she was in great jeopardy!

She sank down to the hard dirt floor, limp and drained. Prince Vegeta, Lord of the Saiyan Empire, he was one of the most power warlords in the galaxy, first having been an personal adviser to King Kold that cold alien bastard! The one who ordered for the purge of Earth--- the Saiyans who claimed it as a war prize, and now he was a personal adviser to that bastards son, that rotten alien scum. The same spitting image of his father, Lord Freiza. The Kold empire was her foster father’s worst enemy, and so was this man, this bastard son the next heir to the throne of Vegeta.

Bardock and Vegeta had clashed on too many occasions to count. Planet Vegeta wasn‘t always ruled by Saiyan dictator ship---it had been a planet which had lavished with an alien race fare more technologically advanced then the barbaric apes that scalped the caves, and mountain dwellings. They were nothing, until the birth of the moon---where they discovered there true ability to some mysterious primitive power. Then, King Kold had taken them under his arm, given them an Empire and technology to purge and destroy---with the agreement to do there will. They sold there souls to the devil himself. Genocide was nothing in comparison to what the Kold Empire did, and what these primitive warriors did in the name of Freiza.

Now, the Saiyan Empire was galaxies wide. It had expanded through one system to the next. It was to be converted into the will of the mighty Lords, or to parish---and die. To be forgotten. Forever. Earth was under the protection of the Saiyan Empire, the resources of the planet were far to rich to expose of. The planet had plenty of sources and it’s weak dominating species had intelligence that adequately made up for it’s indifferences. It was a controllable race, and a rebellion was less then threatening and very rarely occurred, although Bardock and his sons were more lenient to rebelling under there own Empire in order to set a freedom of enslavement of the Kold Empire. Something Bardock considered Prince Vegeta to much a coward to commit to. Her father had blamed his young naive age, and his inexperience as leader, and a incompetent father who was blinded by greed and power.

The Princes parting words echoed, a frightening refrain. If she understood him, he intended to alleviate his lust on her if he thought her to be of no importance to anyone. Thus, if he did not learn the truth of her identity, she would be taken and used until he tired of her and discarded her. She would, in fact, be ruined. Yamcha would no longer want her. Of course, he was no fool and he would sill marry her, after all, she was the princess of with a great dowry---and her foster father was one of the strongest fighters in the known galaxy.

She almost wept. The only thing worse would be if the Saiyan Prince learned the truth. If he discovered that she was the foster daughter of Son Bardock of Earth, she would be a hostage until her father paid whatever exorbitant ransom her captor demanded. She did not fool herself for an instant. The Prince would do his best to cripple her father. He would demand far more then gold and coin; he would demand his kingdom. Which was in all actuality the Princes to begin with. Precious, priceless land of earth. Home. Land that the humans blood, and allied Saiyans had been spilled. In the name of freedom.

After the ransom was paid---and her father would pay it---Earth would once again be plunged into a fierce bloody war. Two years’ fragile peace would disintegrate like the wisps of yesterday’s dreams. She clenched she small fists, sucking in not just her breath but her courage. Her situation could not possibly be worse. Now she was fiercely glad she had not revealed her identity to him.

The Saiyan Prince was evil, she thought grimly---he had proved that beyond hearsay---but he was no fool. He had proved that, too. He had been quick to see through her careful, elaborated disguise, and he doubted the tale she had invented, a tale that was not unreasonable and might have fooled a lesser man. She would need every ounce of courage she had and then some; she would need all of her shrewd wits as well. She must not let him even guess who she was. For having met him, Bulma realized the extent of his power and his will. If there was a way for him to discover the truth of her identity, the Prince would undoubtedly find it, and once he did, her father and Earth---and herself would suffer the horrible consequences.

Just like her father used spies all the time, this man would certainly use them, too. By this evening there would be a crisis at Earths Joint alliance’ apart of the large Empires Crops, over her disappearance. A Saiyan spy would eventually report this…for how easy it was for a saiyan to disguise himself as one of her own fathers people. Bardock had told her before, trust no one, not even yourself. There are spies for the Prince, and spies for the Kold Empire. Was her captor intelligent enough to guess the truth once he learned that Bardock’s foster daughter was missing? How could he not comprehend her identity in such circumstances!

Bulma closed her eyes. How could she keep her identity hidden yet still hold him at bay for any length of time? It seemed an impossible task. Escape was the only solution but for the moment, that, too, was an impossibility. She wiped her eyes. Tears solved nothing. She must ready herself for their next war of wits and wills. So far she had not done very well. And she did not want to repeat what had just passed between them---the encounter that had drained her, yet left her feeling disturbed and agitated and so strangely ripe.

What had just passed between them? Bulma made a choked sound, her mind flooding with fresh memories. To her horror, she could still feel his touch, his mouth on hers, his hard loins on hers, and her body began throbbing. She covered her face with her hands. Bulma could no longer avoid her shame. It overwhelmed her.

Exhaustion overtook her. She would not dwell upon that bastard anymore. She shifted to look longingly at the fur pallet. She could only guess whether ‘he’ would return to sleep there or not, and she was too fatigued now to think clearly. But it didn’t matter. She could not lie in his bed, even alone; the very idea was appalling.

Bulma slid to the dirt flooring, huddling into a small ball. Finally numbness settled upon her aching mind, but her sleep eluded her. She drifted restlessly, listening to the sounds of the night and the camp, the, the nickering of horses, a hooting owl, the men talking quietly outside, until the lat of their voices died down. As the human sounds fades, she tensed, waiting for the inevitable footsteps---footsteps she was certain would come. She lay rigid for a long time, but they did not come---he did not come.

When Bulma awoke---she awoke with his face close to her own. For one instant she did not move, dazed with the haze of sleep, gazing into glittering eyes that were not as black as she had first saw them, but a rich maple brown. Then reality hit her with a violent force and she jerked away from him. He had been leaning over her, to touch his face almost to hers, but now he straightened.

“I hope your story proves to be correct--women.” His meaning was not lost upon her.

“Get away from me!”

“What frightens you women? Is it me you fear, or yourself?

Bulma found the blade of her tongue. “Why would I fear myself? The only thing a fear is the sick sadistic bastard. A Saiyan who’s heritage is to rape as causal as a sport of sparring.”

He chuckled. “I can assure you, little one, I have never participated in that particular act of violence, and I never will.” He added, very low, “I have never needed to, and when you join me in my bed, it will be with enthusiasm---the same kind of enthusiasm that was in evidence last night.”

His blunt reference to her appalling behavior yes day infuriated Bulma. “You will never see such enthusiasm from me again!”

He lifted a dark brow in question. “Are you challenging me?” His smirk was genuine. “I enjoy challenges, women.”

She shook her head vehemently, her heart tripping. “You have now power over me.”

“To the contrary, I have an ancient power over you, women. The power of a man over a women.”

“I’m not like most women.”

“No?” His teeth flashed in a fishes grin, “You appeared to be a women as any other last night, when you lay mewling beneath me, a women both in my power and at my mercy. But if it makes you feel better, I will admit that you are far more interesting then all the women I have---so far met. Far more interesting, fare more intriguing, and---” He smirked again, his eyes suddenly warm “---far more exotic and beautiful.”

Bulma fought the seduction that simmered in the intensity of his gaze. She bristled. “I do not mewl, Saiyan. And you may say whatever you like, you may think as you undoubtedly will, but it does not change what I feel, and what I feel for you is better left unsaid.”

He eyed her for a long moment, assessing. “Beneath the anger there is more to explore, I think. Nerveless, we are wasting not just words but time. We leave in a quarter hour. I suggest you take a few private moments to do what you must. This dispute can be concluded on Vegeta.”

Prince Vegeta turned and limped away, moving remarkably well for a man who had recently suffered a gore wound. Bulma started after him, relieved that he was gone. Every encounter she survived---intact---seemed to her no small victory.

But she was also dismayed. Planet Vegeta was the new thrown to the western Empire. The earl, the bastard princes father, had spent some fifteen years completing it, and rumor held it to e an impenetrable fortress. Something that could even withstand the fury of Frieza. If that was true, it meant that once she was imprisoned there, she had no hopes of being rescued. It flashed through Bulma’s mid that by this morning, Bardock and his only son left, would be scouring the countryside looking for her. Perhaps she could be rescued before being imprisoned on Planet Vegeta. She must be rescued first! It was her only hope. What if she were to leave a sign for Bardock? How could she do this? Quickly she shoved aside the fur she had been covered with, trembling with excitement. Someone had brought her a bowl of water, and Bulma quickly washed. She hurried from the tent and stopped.

The horse-like beasts were being saddled up, and on father exploration she noticed how much the Earth horse and the animal before her looked so much alike. Although these creatures were double the size massive, and evil looking in there shielded armor. Less traceable then if they were to take ships and quicker on foot, then in flight were one would risk reveling there ki. There main amber-like similar to a fire, and she took note to the smoke that rolled from there corners of there lashing mouths, and nostrils.
She speculated that they we engulfed with fire, that was controlled by there handlers. They were so busy with mending up camp and there animals for the moment, and then Bulma saw her captor, talking with another Elite warrior, his back was to her.

Bulma took a calming breath, prayed that the Prince would not notice her. But he suddenly turned to face her. Bulma ignored him, hoping her sudden excitement didn’t show, as she began to walk into the woods. She was well aware that one of the warriors trailed after her, obviously instructed to guard her. Her spirits were dimmed somewhat, but not her determination. Bulma disappeared behind a tree and some bushes to tend some pressing needs. In the process she tore off a piece of her fine silk chemise, worn beneath both slave tunics, one well laundered and bone white. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took several attempts to tie the bright piece of fabric to a swaying tree branch. When she had succeeded she tore off several additional strips, stuffing them up her sleeves. She hurried around the bushes to where the warrior stood, his back to her. Her hopes soared. Surely one of the scouts searching for her would find the flag she had left!

The warrior escorted her back to the camp and her captor, the Prince was in conversation with the man who had captured her yesterday.

“Capsule Corps, compound?” Turlas was saying. “It should not be a problem, Prince Vegeta; after all by tonight everyone will be well crocked from the wedding feast. I can find out what you want, my lord.” He flashed him a cocky smile.

Vegeta smacked him roughly on the shoulder. “Godspeed.” He tilted a smirk towards Bulma. “Is there a message you wish to give someone? Your beloved fool, perhaps?

Bulma was frozen, but only for an instant. “Do you have eyes on the back of your head like some misshapen monster?”

He was amused. “Did you really think to eavesdrop? If you wish to know my intentions, you need only ask, little one.”

“Why is he going to the Capsule Corps. Compound?”

“Do you have something to hide?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you have nothing to fear.”

He was toying with her, testing her, and she was justifiably anxious. “Why are you doing this?”

His amusement faded. “Because I cannot help myself.”


They started at each other. His gaze was briefly penetrable, and Bulma saw dark desire and even darker determination. He exerted a magnetism upon her that she was powerless against. She shuddered with a sudden foreboding she dared not comprehend. It was far safer to ignore whatever had passed between them, to pretend it did not exist, had never existed.

He broke a spell he had so effectively cast. “Come, we are leaving; you shall ride with me.”

Bulma did not move. He dropped the hand extended. “Is something wrong, Bra?”

“I wish to ride with anyone else but you.”

He planted himself in front of her and stared down at her. “But I am not giving you a choice. Little one.”

He smiled slightly. “Besides, riding with me will be very entertaining.”

(Now, to understand why they were ridding, was simple. There ship was a days travel from there prime location. They didn’t want to be located around the boarder lines spying. It was easier to use the ‘Nightmares’ which was the breed similar to the horse---which had been described before. I want to assure that none of you are getting loss; and yes Nightmare is the exact replica of the horse in Dungeons and Dragons.)

She understood the innuendo and could feel her face flame, but at least his frankness was something she could deal with. “You are so typically cocksure.”

He chuckled, that rich rumbling sound. “Did I hear that remark from a woman’s lips?”
“I do not care what you think of me,” She gritted. “Where is your damn beast?”

He pointed, laughing at her in mockery, his fanged teeth flashing white. Bulma marched to the big huge black ‘Nightmare’ his laughter echoing in her mind. She resolved to outwit him no mater what the cost, and when she did, she would fling her triumph into his face. Then she would be the one laughing.

Vegeta assured his horse ,(we’ll call it that for now)for these animals were very temperamental to be ridden by an unknown rider. The flames could severally hurt the women. Soon as he knew his horse was assured he lifted her into the saddle effortlessly, then swung up behind her with the grace of a much smaller man. Bulma tried to ignore the feel of his hard thick male body behind her. She griped the pommel tightly. It was going to be a very long day; if of that she had no doubt.

They traveled at a rapid trot, away from the comfort of her Empire. They traveled through rocky, rolling hills, and September had swept much rain across the countryside, and the land was green and verdant. It was clear to Bulma that he was intent on reaching the Main Ship today. Obviously whatever mission the Prince had been about had been accomplished. She brooded upon the possibilities. She was determined to learn what the Saiyans had been doing in the vicinity of the outskirt lands of her Fathers territory and so close to the Capsule Corps. Compound.

And every hour that passed, Bulma let a piece of her chemise slip from her sleeve and flutter to the ground. Their pace did not let up until they stopped to water the horses at noon. By then they were surrounded by the harsher skies of gray---they were near the ship now. Occasionally gulls wheeled above them. Bulma thankfully slid to the ground, drained from having to endure the intimacy of sharing a saddle with her captor for so many endless hours. She though that it was close to hell as she might ever come.

No one was paying attention to her. Around her the warriors spoke in low tones, their mouths drank deeply with there traveling water bags to there lips. Bulma edged closer to a single gaunt tree. She sat down with a show of fatigue, and let slip another piece of chemise. When the warriors had remounted and reassembled a few minutes later, she got to her feet and ambled back to the group. The prince rode his great powerful monster of a horse, slowly towards her.

“Enjoying the scenery, are we?”
She glared. “What is there to enjoy in this scene? Nothing surrounds me but ugliness.”

“Spoken like a true slave.” His gaze pierced her. “Are you a slave, Bra?”

She stilled. Was he the devil---and a reader of minds? Or had he guessed her identity?

“I am a slave through and through.”

“You don’t speak like a slave---except when you choose to. Your wording is flawless.”

“Perhaps, Saiyans are to stupid and dim-witted to learn to speak Japanese well.”

His jaw tightened. “Perhaps this Saiyan has been dim-witted indeed.” He slid from his horse, giving her an enigmatic look. Bulma did not like his words or his tone. She froze when, instead of lifting her into the saddle, he walked right past her.

He walked directly to the misshapen tree where she had been sitting. Bulma’s heart skipped. He stooped and retrieved a piece of her chemise. His strides were hard as he returned to her, clenching the silky fabric in his fist. “What a clever little minx you are.”

Bulma took a step back. His hand shot out, jerking her forward. “If you are so eager to shed your clothing, women, you need only say so.”

Bulma could not summon up a suitable response, especially no in the face of his fury.

“For how long have you been leaving these signs, women! For how LONG!”



Authors remarks: Well, here you guys go. I know it’s not as long as you guys would have liked it to be, but I have to pack up. And head off to another training site for a two week military school. Fun, fun. So read and review. When I come back and feel stratified with enough reviews and good impute I shall submit another exciting chapter.