Minara. the Grojan War
Chapter 22: Escape

Copyright© 2015 by C. Osborne Rapley

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 22: Escape - Minara is an ex solider turned bounty hunter earning a living catching human survivors from the Human, Grojan war. She stumbles across a large enemy fleet and is shot down. She crashes on a primitive planet where Minara quickly establishes herself as a bodyguard to a princess of a small kingdom. Unbeknown to her a powerful general from a rival kingdom is a genetically modified human. By chance and political events, they meet and sparks fly.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Science Fiction   Aliens   Slow   Military   Royalty  

Arron had started counting the days since he had been locked in the dungeon. When the first door was opened he expected to be led away for his execution, but so far all that happened was the hatch lifted and a plate of gruel was pushed through. He ate, then placed the empty plate by the hatch, then an hour later the door would open followed by the hatch and the plate was snatched away. Once he had not placed the plate to be collected and the next day he was not fed so he made sure he always had the plate ready. As the days turned to weeks, then months, he lost count. There really was no point, until he was taken to his execution or escaped. The one thing that played on his mind was Minara. As much as he had tried to hate her or even forget her he could not. She was a constant presence in his mind. In his dreams her face would haunt him. In less lucid moments he wondered if the beautiful woman in his imagination was even real.

He had explored every inch of his cell and had found no weakness other than the grill over the wide hole in the corner through which the water from the spigot drained and he used as a toilet. When he had first arrived the hole had been too small for him to squeeze through, but as the weeks passed and he lost weight he reconsidered the possibility. He lay down and assessed the width across his shoulders.

After working at a lose slat on the bed for several days he had managed to break it off and had used it to make a workable blade with which to wear away the stone and cement holding in the bars for the drain. The task proved to be extremely slow and the soft metal of the bed slat wore down quickly so once it became too small to use he was forced to break another slat from the bed. Time became irrelevant as he worked at the bars. Once one was exposed he would start at the next. His bed slowly disintegrated as slat after slat wore down. He had been sleeping on the floor for an indeterminate amount of time and had started to get concerned his bed would be used up before he had freed up the grill.

The last bar was only half exposed when the last slat became too small to hold. Arron stood over the grill and pulled with all his remaining strength but it was still stuck fast. He fell to his knees, rolled over and looked at the small slit high in the wall where light seeped in. All the effort and time for nothing, he rolled on his side pulling his legs to his chest in a fetal position preparing to give up the struggle. He lay facing the far wall where the remains of the bed lay. As he watched a shaft of light shone through the slit and lit up the side of the frame.

Arron blinked, a sudden idea forming in his exhausted mind. He stood and walked to the frame. There was no longer any bracing just the oblong metal. He lifted it on to one side then lent on it causing the oblong to fold breaking the corner joints.

He took the short ends and laid them together by the edge of the grill then one of the long sides he jammed into the grill, his hand pushed down using the sides as a fulcrum. He had made a crude leaver, so he pushed down on the end, then put all of his weight on it. The metal started to bend and still the grill held fast. In one final desperate attempt he shook the end of the leaver by jumping and the grill fixings gave with a sudden crack. The grill flew upwards as the leaver and Arron fell to the floor with an almighty clatter.

Gasping for breath, he lay winded on the floor, certain someone must have heard the noise and would come and investigate. He lay still listening, but as he counted the time with his breaths, no one came.

Finally, the grill had broken away from the drain, after countless hours of scraping. Arron stood and danced round the cell silently, waving his arms in the air. He was certain that if anyone could see him they would think he were mad, and perhaps after all the time alone in the near darkness he was. He placed the remains of the now totally destroyed bed against the far wall and lightly replaced the grill. Just in case someone did come to investigate. He had seen no one for so long he doubted they would, but someone came every morning with the plate of slop so he did not want to take a chance. He pulled his empty plate away from the hatch in the door. He assumed they would investigate why there was no plate after a couple of days so he would have at least three days before his escape was discovered. If he put the plate by the hatch they would discover it had not been touched the next morning so he reasoned he would get longer by not putting the plate down rather than leaving it to be picked up.

After what seemed forever the light faded from the small window so Arron assumed it was nightfall. He removed his ragged clothes and tied them into a small bundle then lifted the grill and put it to one side, shivering as the water splashed over his naked body. He swallowed back a sudden doubt, then taking a deep breath squeezed through the hole feet first. He reasoned that if there were a drop at the end of the hole it would be better to land on his feet rather than his head. His hips were a tight fit but the surface of the hole was slippery after years of waste and water had coated the rock surface. He raised his arms above his head and wriggled, and bit by bit he worked himself into the stinking hole. The smell was overpowering as he continued slipping downward. He fought back the urge to gag and kept on wriggling until his shoulders were below the edge. He was now at the point of no return. If he got stuck he would be unable to pull himself back up with his arms stuck above his head. He slipped further in, and the tightness of the stinking hole caused panic to tighten across his chest like a steel band. He fought it back, because if he were to lose it now he might get wedged and die. He closed his eyes and continued pushing and wriggling.

He was below the edge of the hole when he realized he had another problem; the water from the spigot was pouring in faster than it could run by because his body was partly plugging the hole. If he did not reach a wider opening quickly he would drown as the hole started to fill above his head. He wiggled and pushed frantically as the water started to cover his mouth. It had risen to cover his nose when he felt the walls widen round his hips He gripped with his knees and arms and gave a large push. His body became free and like a cork popping out of a bottle he shot from the narrow hole into a cold stinking underground river.

He bobbed up and took a breath then let the current take him. As the current pushed him along he was battered against rocks and overhangs. He protected his head as far as he was able with his arms, but his body was swiftly becoming a mass of bruises and cuts. He was beginning to think he could not survive the battering for much longer when he was suddenly shot out into space. He estimated he fell about twenty feet before striking water again. He held his breath as he went under then bobbed up, blinked and looked round. There were trees silhouetted against the clear night sky. He was in a lake or large pond. He swam for the shore and pulled himself out of the water, laying cold and exhausted.

Arron knew he had to get away from the water's edge and start walking to get warm. He had held tight to his bundle of clothes throughout his nightmare journey. The clean water of the lake had cleaned most of the effluent covering his body, but Arron suspected however that he would never feel clean again. He pulled on his wet clothes, hoping that even though they were wet they would afford him some warmth and protection.

He walked for just over an hour before encountering an affluent looking farmstead. He made his way round the house. At least on this planet there were no animals similar to dogs so he could move about without being discovered. Round the back of the house, in a small yard, clothes were fluttering on a washing line left over night to dry. Arron walked up to the line and found a set of clothes almost his size. They were far better than his wet ones so he borrowed them, vowing that one day he would pay for what he had taken.

 
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