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The
recreation hall was empty when they arrived, still naked and chained in a
tether, but already set up for the evening’s entertainment: gaming tables were
scattered around the room with enough seating for thirty or forty people. Twelve crosses, each about eight feet tall
and made of bluish metal in the shape of an X, ringed the room. Without ceremony, the captives were dragged
to them by guards and shackled tightly into place, then left alone. Nysia hung quietly,
and considered that she wasn’t particularly shocked at the thought that anyone
could walk in and see her naked. She
wondered when she’d gotten use to such things.
Before
long servants began to enter; obviously fellow slaves from their lack of dress,
most wore skin tight rubber that left ass, groin, and – on the women – breasts
bare, while covering nearly everything else.
Most took up places as dealers at the tables, or as waitresses, and a
pair stood behind a small bar; but one walked to each of the slaves in
turn. He was a giant, over seven feet
tall, with broad shoulders and (Nysia couldn’t help
but notice, and blushed deeply) a huge member that poked out of his rubber suit
and was contained in a cruel looking device apparently designed to keep it bent
and flaccid. What a pity…! As he came to each of the suspended slaves,
he reached into a bag and produced a colored strip of cloth, which he tied
around their arm, around the bicep. As
he placed a pale blue armband upon her, Nysia looked
into his eyes and flinched; they were not the seductive ones she had already
been imagining drowning herself within; this was no gentle giant. His eyes were a lifeless crystal blue, and
they radiated cruelty. She suddenly knew
this man, dispassionately tugging a knot into place, would somehow make her scream
with pain tonight.
She
glanced down with a whimper and saw his penis up close; within the device were
needle like teeth, pointed inward; if he grew rigid, he would be pierced
thoroughly. He’s going to hurt me, and
enjoy it, and then he’ll hurt too. The
thought made her shiver with wicked delight, and that, too, made her
frightened.
“Hello
again, Freckles. Still bein’ naughty, are ya?” The cheerful voice made Nysia
jerk in her chains and tear her eyes from the huge slave, who was tying an orange
band onto Lisa. The strange woman from
the station stood beside her with a lopsided grin. Nysia looked her up
and down with astonishment – although her various piercings
were still present, the small woman was now dressed from head to toe in a crisp
black unifom, complete with visored
hat and high, shining leather boots. She
looked…authoritative, and powerful, with all that shining silver and those
colored ribbons. The face was the same,
however: her green eyes sparkled mischievously, and Nysia
wondered what she was getting away with: something big, no doubt.
“Y-…you’re
here!” she stammered.
“Of
course, Freckles, I may not look it in the buff but I’m mighty pleased to
introduce Major Jillian Travis; I lead the motley lot of marines on this rig, which
makes me third in command and quite important, or so I keep tellin’
‘em. So I get
to come to all the shindigs.”
“But…what….”
she didn’t seem quite able to speak clearly; every time the other woman’s lips
moved she was entranced, remembering them wrapped around her nipples, moving
lower…she blushed and was mortified; will I ever not be wet?
“What’s
going on tonight?” Nysia
managed a nod. “Ah, the divvying of the
goods – that’s you, you’ll recall.” Nysia nodded again, then wondered
at how she could calmly nod to such a thing.
“Each of you darlings gets a color,” Jillian pointed to the armband,
“and there are ten tokens for each color.
There are twenty of us invited, so we each get six tokens – drawn
randomly, of course. We start playin’ from there; whoever gets all your tokens gets you,
cutie. Oh, there’s also a pretty hefty
buy in, of course, to keep things interestin’ and
plenty of other entertainment to make sure everyone goes back to quarters
happy,” at this, Jillian gestured to the erotically garbed staff.
“Oh
my…” Apparently the attire wasn’t just
for appearances; this should be a terribly interesting party. Nysia nodded towards
the giant, “And…him?”
“Ah
right, Gunther.
Well, we like to keep things a bit exciting, so we give him a whip. The cracks and screams create atmosphere, ya know? Twenty for each of you, every pass. We used to threaten him if he didn’t do a
good job, but we stopped bothering; that man enjoys his work.”
Oh sweet
lord, she’s just cheerfully told me the man’s going to beat me as hard as he
can. Has everyone gone mad?
“Others
are coming soon, so I’ve got to move on – can’t tip my hand an’ all – but don’t
worry about any of ‘em, I’m betting all for you
Freckles. See,” she held up a blue token
with an impish grin, “I own a tenth of you already!” Dear me, is that supposed to be
encouraging? As the woman sauntered off,
Nysia looked her handful of tokens: in addition to
the blue, there were two orange tokens – Jillian owned part of Lisa, too.
A moment
later the small woman was across the room, giggling as her firm grip on
Gerald’s groin forced his eyes to bulge with pain or…something else. Several more uniformed officers entered. Each took a few tokens from a bag held by a
slave next to the door, then walked around to inspect the goods.
When
they came to Nysia, she didn’t know what to say – she
simply stared at them, petrified. One
was tall and thin, with graying hair and huge epaulets and a raspy, wheezing
voice; the others referred to him deferentially as Captain. To his right, bulging in a white uniform, was a man with bright red hair; without a pause in
his conversation with the others, he walked up to her and thrust a finger
between her legs.
“Wet already…nice, but a bit too willing to have much fun with. That one over there, though, she’d be a fun
one to break…look at those tattoos!” Nysia gasped and squirmed as the hand continued to move
within her, thrusting deep enough to hurt, then
withdrew and wiped dry on her hip. The
group moved on, chuckling about a past romance.
Within the space of seconds she’d been forcefully used and abandoned,
and he’d barely even glanced at her.
This isn’t the way the vids said it’s supposed
to be at all! She sighed.
And why
do I keep enjoying it?
The next
few minutes passed in the same way: officers in crisp uniforms with ribbons and
sparkling insignia would enter and draw a handful of tokens, then walk around
chatting to each other and inspecting those bound on the racks. Nysia was handled
like livestock. Men and women alike
pinched her limbs for fat, felt her skin, turned her breasts or face this way
and that to get a better look, or touched her hair. Digits invaded her: fingers were thrust
between her legs, tugged at her clit, spread her wide; they thrust into her
anus, probing cruelly without regard to her screams of pain; one, after
performing both these other inspections, forced its way into her mouth. Her jaw was pried painfully wide, and
fingertips slid along her teeth, then back into her throat to see when she
would gag. She wanted to bite down on
them, but Gunther caught her eye and flicked his
whip. It was a long, cruel leather cord
of the sort vid stars used to tame lions. She retched on her own tastes and allowed the
examination.
Not a one
of the officers bothered to speak to her.
A couple simply glanced at a plate to the side, reading off measurements
and statistics without paying any attention at all to the actual article: as
though her entire self were summed up briefly in “5’5; 34-24-33, C; Age: 19;
Female; Hair: Brown; Hymen: No…” In a
way, it made her realize her position in a new, deeper way: that’s indeed all
she was, and maybe all she ever would be…a body to be owned, enjoyed, used, and
discarded. She was a slave.
The
games were cruel for the slaves. Lined
up around the room on raised platforms, they had a perfect vantage to watch
their fate decided by strangers. Tokens and
credits were passed between players as bets were won and lost; tokens were bet
against varying amounts of cash, depending on how appealing the slaves were
felt to be, and the commentary was as casual as it was brutal. One of the girls, a fair bit plainer than the
others, had her credits sold off for an embarrassingly low sum. One man declared, as he handed over his
bright red chips, that he’d rather have money for whatever’s in the next port,
while the purchaser – a woman – explained she wanted a couple children, but
couldn’t really be bothered herself: the slave would bear them, then, “if she
were still usable,” be turned to servant duties. Nysia shuddered at
the prospect, hoping hers would be better, and the other slave – now a future
mother – cried openly.
At
first, Nysia tried to follow the betting
carefully. She watched the pierced major
begin to play, but a glance around at her companions revealed her table had no
other blue tokens, and the first ones she pushed forward were the pair of
oranges. Two tenths of my only friend,
equated to a stack of bills…other oranges came out as well, and she watched
with horror as Lisa’s body was won and lost, passed around the group amid
friendly banter and cigar smoke. They
never even glanced at the girl.
Another
table seemed to have most of the blue tokens, and after the first few hands
(which settled the plain girl’s doom), she herself became the bid. She recognized the winner of the hand: the
thin doctor with the emotionless voice who had presided over their earlier
medical exams. He didn’t even smile as
he raked in the pot, which contained four blues.
The
games lost her attention then, however, because Gunther
began to work. He started two racks to Nysia’s right, on one of the men, and his first lashes were
aimed directly at the captive’s sex.
Bellows of pain reverberated through the room, causing every game to
stop for a moment as the players looked over.
Perhaps they’ll stop him…! She
barely had time to form the thought when the players turned as one back to
their cards, with a subtle undercurrent of chuckling amusement. The whipping continued.
By the
time her own turn came, Nysia’s eyes were wide with
fear and disbelief. I’m going to be
whipped! I shall try very hard not to
scream, not to let him see me suffer….
Her
resolution vanished instantly. The whip
itself was not as hard as she had expected and braced herself for; the slap was
hard, but no worse than one of her father’s spankings, when he was very truly
angry. Unknown to her, this was
intentional: any other way, the whip would have torn her skin apart just before
she was claimed as property. However,
the actual blow was not the vicious thing: fine wires ran down the length of
the whip, and when they touched her, Nysia’s nerves
exploded into blinding white pain. It
was like the prod at the assembly, but over and over and over…it would never
stop…there was nothing but pain, then blessed
darkness.
When she
awoke, the screams were coming from her left.
It was Lisa’s turn, and her friend was shrieking with agony. Thank goodness, Nysia
immediately thought, then felt a wave of guilt. She didn’t dislike Lisa; indeed, the
beautifully tattooed girl was the only friend she was likely to have here, and
she loved her dearly. But somehow,
constantly, Nysia was eager to let her suffer in her
stead. At least this time her own lingering pain and exhaustion prevented any physical
pleasure to accompany the relief. Still,
she looked over to watch her friend’s whipping, staring in rapture as electric
pain was delivered to breasts, stomach, sex and thighs. It wasn’t until Gunther
turned to the next captive that she realized Lisa was looking back. Nysia looked away
guiltily.
The
games continued as Gunther worked his way around the
crosses. The orange tokens continued to
circulate around the table, the subject of heavy betting, and the major’s stack
of credit chips grew steadily. The
single blue token never moved. On the
other table, the doctor continued to collect other blues; he was up to
six. Nysia’s
mind summoned a picture of the assistant,
In other
places, the serving slaves were being taken advantage of, and that was far less
disconcerting to watch. Indeed, Nysia felt the cruel, guilty pleasure that was becoming
familiar as she saw the slaves used viciously.
One pair – a man and a woman – were bent over stools before several
young male officers; they took turns with the woman, using her hard from both
ends, and from their taunting Nysia learned the man
had once been her husband. Now, he was
made to clean each member that had been spent in his wife, and when a couple
regained their stiffness they stood behind him and put him to similar use. One of the former bartenders was crouched on
her bar over a slim blond female ensign who had already lost most of her
clothing. Her crewmates were gathered
around, tipping drinks and hors d’oeuvres upon her, which the slave was
required to remove with her mouth and tongue.
Nysia only recognized one of the slaves from the hold,
because she was completely stripped: Maxine was not so regal here. The fat red head that had first fingered and
dismissed Nysia appeared to have taken a special
interest in the similarly colored slave; she was bound in a corner and being
beaten severely with a device similar to Gunther’s.
All too
soon it was Nysia’s turn again for the whip, although
the pace was slow and a full circuit took well over an hour. The man to the right sagged with relief after
his final blow, and Gunther walked towards her,
menacing and overwhelming in his height and mass. He was indeed enjoying his work, Nysia noticed with growing horror; his penis was rigid
despite its captivity, and rivulets of blood dripped down his legs. He’s going to hurt me, and enjoy it, and then
he’ll hurt too, she remembered thinking; how prophetic she had been!
As if to
confirm her, he leaned forward until his breath was hot and wet upon Nysia’s face, and her eyes grew round with fear. “I saw how wet you were earlier, you little
slut…you think you’re going to enjoy this?
Fuck that. They think this whip
won’t do anything permanent, but enough strokes in the same place can fry your
nerves like bacon. I’m going to do your cunt every pass; I’m gonna burn
you so badly you won’t feel a fucking for the next month. Hell…you may never feel it again.” He grinned and pulled away, readying a blow
as she began to beg.
By the
time he was done Nysia felt like a red hot brand had
been forced inside of her. Her bladder
had failed halfway through, and the moisture seemed to make it even worse; her
entire crotch was on fire, and she had no doubt that a couple more sets would
do exactly what he claimed. She paid no
heed to Lisa’s torture this time, just hung limp and cried.
When the
pain had faded enough to open her eyes again, Nysia
looked back to the tables; at least some of the games were approaching an end,
and she began to hope there wouldn’t be enough time for Gunther
to come back.
The
orange tokens were spread evenly between two players at the major’s table, and
the stiff postures and lack of conversation belied an intense game. Hands passed back and forth, but none seemed
sure enough of winning to bet their chance at Lisa, while the major, apparently
completely at ease, seemed blithely content to build a pile of credits and
smoke cigars. She’s not bidding for me
at all! The blue token didn’t seem to be
in front of her anymore, either, and Nysia suspected
it now belonged to one of the male officers whose bodies partially blocked her
view.
And
then, as Gerald shouted in pain under Gunther’s whip,
one of the piles of orange tokens was pushed forward; it was, apparently, all the player had left to bid. A moment later the petite pierced rapist
leaned forward and scooped them up nonchalantly, and the next hand she
collected the other stack.
The woman
owned Lisa.
On the
other table, her own blue tokens seemed not to be much in play; the doctor
still owned six, with the others divided.
The current playing centered around purple –
Gerald’s color. From the conversation,
they had been impressed with his roars of pain and now several of them were
vying for the opportunity to extract more.
Oh dear, she thought, this will certainly not end well for him.
Maxine
had ceased her own screams: she too now hung limp and broken, and the paunchy
mate had unhitched his pants to pound into her sex. As he thrust deeply, sweating and grunting,
his face hovered inches from Maxine’s and Nysia
realized with a start the hair was indeed the same color, almost exactly; and
the features were too similar for coincidence.
They could only be brother and sister, she realized with horror – and
watched from then on in fascination at the incest; brother took sister in her
sex, her mouth and finally, with much heaving and several blows, in her rear as
well. Finally – perhaps unable to harden
enough for another penetration – he returned to beating her motionless
form.
Then
suddenly it was her turn again; far too soon, she’d lost track of time! Gunther walked up
to her, then turned to look at the table she’d been
staring at so intently. “Prime, ain’t it? I was
worried you’d enjoy yourself too much here, but it looks like you’re going to
the Doctor. That’ll certainly end your
amusement.” He snapped his whip in the
air. “I’m still going to burn you,
though…just for fun.”
Nysia found herself suddenly
angry, defiant: “
He just
laughed. “Oh, you’re right about one
thing – you won’t be using it anymore. But he’s not planning to doll you up like
Asp. You’re type O negative.” She looked at him without comprehension; of
course she was, everyone on DiamondStar
had been modified generations ago: an expensive process, but useful in a small
community that didn’t have much choice of blood donors. He grinned at her confusion, and his member
twitched in its confinement, starting a new red rivulet. “He’s a doctor on a ship that doesn’t get
regular supplies, and you have a type no one else will reject: you’re about to
become spare parts, bitch.”
Her
resolve crumbled, her defiance instantly falling to pieces; she was going to
die! She looked at the table and saw the
doctor now had seven blue tokens – when had he won another? – and he was pushing two forward, and another man put two more
in, and they were placing their cards on the table –
-- and
the whip slammed into her groin; unprepared, she buckled and dropped like a
stone, to hang limp from the cross as another blow ignited the nerves all over
again, and worse, and another blow and she started to feel a pinpoint of
numbness, and that was worse because the nerves were giving way, and she could
only shake her head and beg, “not me, oh please don’t, oh god no don’t hurt me
anymore!”
As if in
a dream, she heard Lisa scream to be whipped in her stead, and she couldn’t
help it; she nodded as pain kept exploding between her thighs and begged for
that too. “Please yes, whip her, burn
her, do anything you want just don’t hurt me anymore, please, do her instead!” Gunther paused a
moment and turned to the officers behind him, and Nysia
followed his gaze.
The
major looked up from where a waitress was kneeling busily in front of her bar
stool to look at Lisa long and hard; an intense look with an indecipherable
meaning. Then she smiled and shuddered
with pleasure from the waitress’ ministrations, and the illusion vanished. Her voice cut through the room: “Oh aye, that
one’s mine – have at ‘er instead, Gunther,
I don’t mind a few marks from some extra blows.
Hell an’ damnation, she’s so eager give ‘er
some more – twenty for her, twenty for Freckles there, and twenty for the good
ship Nighthawk!”
Then the
blows stopped and that was all that mattered; she just hung there and kept
repeating herself, like a mantra: “Her
instead…whatever you want to her…just not me….” Finally the darkness came again, and she
welcomed it.
She
drifted slowly back to wakefulness, and it wasn’t until she’d gazed at blue
tokens for a couple minutes that she realized their importance. At the doctor’s elbow was a tall pile: every
blue token from the table was there. She
tried to count them from afar, and sometimes saw nine and sometimes ten. The game continued on, with that stack set
aside. To her left, Lisa slumped in her
chains; her body was covered in angry red welts, and spittle dripped from the
corners of her mouth. I’m no sort of
friend at all, she though, then her eyes rolled back so far that only the
whites showed, and her head dropped inertly.
When Nysia woke again she looked around to find the hall was
mostly empty. Only two tables still
played: one, with the captain, seemed more involved in their smoking and
conversation, while the doctor’s table still played intently. A couple other officers, including the major,
lounged at the bar with drinks. Only one
of the original pair of bartenders remained, and she no longer retained her
exposing rubber suit. Even from this
distance, Nysia could see she had been used by
several men, or one man repeatedly, as their residue still covered her; Nysia licked her lips and remembered what she’d done with
Half the
other slaves were gone, as was Gunther, and she felt
a wave of relief until she looked over to see Lisa still slumped and looking
around with almost insensibly; her eyelids flickered as if she were struggling
to stay aware and saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth. I do hope she’ll recover….
Then a
player at the doctor’s table rose with a yawn and walked away, holding a
fistful of credit chips, leaving the emotionless officer alone. He reached out to pick up the pile of blue
tokens and began to rise, turning towards Nysia, no
doubt to claim her; would he begin cutting right away, or keep her around until
there was some need, and divvy her out bit by bit?
And then
Jillian stood in front of him. She
smiled impishly and reached into a pocket, pulling out a single blue
token.
“Looking
for this, herr doctor?”
“It’s
late, major. I don’t really have the
time to deal with you. How much?”
“Aw,
that’s not very sporting. No sale. We bet!”
“As I
said, I don’t really have the time. All
or nothing, and you need collateral – one token isn’t worth nine.”
Jillian
shrugged, and reached in another pocket to produce a pile of orange
tokens. “Double or
nothing, then. One hand, and one of us walks out with a pair.”
The
doctor’s pale eyes narrowed in distrust.
“No…I know your reputation for cards, major. We cut for the highest – one card each, and we’re done.
Nothing but luck.”
Jillian
looked displeased, and a hand reached up to idly play with the many piercings along the edge of her ear. “Fine. Kinda dull,
though.” Nysia
wanted to scream – Not for me! At least
Lisa was going to get away…now I’ve risked her life too.
The
dealer shuffled the cards without comment as the major sat down; her opponent
remained standing, clearly anxious to be done, until the deck was offered to
him. He cut it, and turned it over – a
queen of hearts. The major grunted in
displeasure, and took her own turn, cutting and looking at the card in
displeasure; from her vantage, Nysia couldn’t see
what she’d drawn.
“Mine,
then?”
“No…we
go again.” She tilted the card – a queen
of spades. “Pair of
queens though, damn appropriate.”
He simply waited, clearly not appreciating the significance. With a shrug, Jillian replaced the queen and
cut again. “Four of
clubs.” She seemed unconcerned.
Without
ceremony the doctor took his turn, slapping the card down too quickly to
see. The look of displeasure on his
face, however, brought a sigh of relief to Nysia; In the end, being won by the impish, insane major was in
fact encouraging.
“Don’t
think no one can tell what you’re up to.
I’m watching you.” He turned
around and left with a derisive huff.
Behind him, Jillian’s hand unconsciously touched her belt, where a
pistol would be holstered, and watched him leave with a piercing stare.
And then
she shrugged, and the playful smile returned, and she was back to her teasing
swagger as she approached Nysia. A hand reached up to caress her cheek, then
the major stood on tiptoes and kissed her, lightly, on the lips; the second
girl to have done so on this busy night.
She owns me now, Nysia thought, and scrunched
her eyes closed but kissed back. “It’ll
just be a moment, Freckles, one last lil task for the
night.” She turned and walked to Lisa, a
bounce in her step, then leaned forward to kiss her as well. For her part, Lisa still seemed barely
conscious, and didn’t seem to respond; but then Jillian leaned forward and
whispered something in her ear, and her eyes focused slightly, and she
nodded.
Within
the next five minutes Jillian had returned to the captain’s table, and bet all
her orange chips, and lost them to him on a horrible bluff. Then the night was over, and Nysia was released from the cross, her arms tingling with
renewed blood flow, and lead off on a leash in complete confusion, leaving Lisa
behind.
Nysia hadn’t quite heard the whisper, but had been sure,
for a moment, the major had asked if Lisa was ready.
Ready for what?
To be
continued: Comments, suggestions, and
ideas for inclusion are encouraged at ElectricBadgerAccessories@yahoo.com.
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