 |
|||
|
|
Nysia regained her senses slowly,
confused and disoriented. She panicked –
Oh no, I mustn’t stop, she’ll kill me! – and with a jerk leaned forward to lick her captor’s pierced sex, but then realized it was no
longer there. She lay on her side on the
floor of a hallway, her collar attached by chains to a series of other
captives. With a blush, Nysia saw a
younger boy she recognized from school chained next to her. He had just drawn back and was staring
lasciviously – Oh goodness, I’m still completely naked! No wonder he’s gawking so, though it’s quite
rude. Her hands were locked behind her
back, preventing any attempt at concealment.
At least the creepy little juvenile had the decency to look away, but as
soon as she glanced around his eyes were right back upon her; she blushed
deeply, again feeling it spread down her body.
This evening just isn’t turning out very well.
She licked her dry lips, and tasted
the woman’s sex. And what was that all
about? Pirates were supposed to be men, after all, and they were supposed
to be dashing and polite and lock the maiden in a room of luxury, to wear fine
dresses to private dinners and only after a great deal of seduction, when they
were perfectly willing, were the women forcibly ravished on silk sheets sprinkled
with gold credit markers. All the
romance vids said so! What she’d done
was just Yuck! and how could the pirate have raped her, a proper maiden (an image of
the black haired woman refusing to let her cum appeared before her, but she
pushed it away instantly). Only the
sluts and lowly workers were ever shackled, and even they wore clothes.
Okay, deep breath, calm down, she
thought. She inhaled deeply, holding it,
then opened her eyes to see the geeky twerp beside her
leering at her upthrust breasts. With a
vicious Harrumph! she glared back, suddenly angry, and
after a moment he looked away with a shrug.
She took stock of her situation.
She was nude, which was completely
unacceptable, but otherwise she seemed whole – her sex ached horribly from the
pounding the crazed woman had given her earlier, and her throat was sore, but
good Lord, those were fairly minor after being certain she was going to be
killed. The gravity was back; she was
sprawled on the floor, and pushed herself up into a crouch against the
wall. Other than the
boy – Brian? Ryan? Unpopular
people can’t be remembered after a year – she didn’t know anyone chained to her
beyond the vague familiarity of face everyone had on a station with only four
thousand people. The others were two
women, one of them very old and the other horribly fat, and a middle aged man
at the other end. And of course, all of
them get to wear clothes! They weren’t
very interesting, though; they just stared at the wall, apparently waiting for
something to happen.
Nysia spent the time trying to find
a comfortable position in which as little of her body as possible showed to the
boy. He had given up all pretense of
courtesy, despite her ongoing glaring, and just watched her squirm with
amusement. Then, looking into her eyes,
he slowly raised his index and middle fingers to sniff them, then…licked
them.
She wrinkled her face in disgust and
confusion for a moment, and then – Oh my God!
That little fucker! – she realized with a flash of insight why he’d been
moving away from her when she awoke, and why she hurt more between her legs
than she had while being pummeled with her diamond. Her eyes grew round with indignation. “How dare you, you little perv-- ”
Her collar was suddenly pulled back,
hard enough to tip her off balance and sprawl across the floor. “I said, fucking move, bitch. Don’t make me use the goddamn prod.” A figure in a grey uniform stood over her,
holding a long metallic pole whose end crackled with electricity, dribbling
blue sparks as it came towards her. “I
said move.”
She shot to her feet, and followed
the pull as the five prisoners were led down the hall. Behind her, the boy snickered.
They soon met up with other groups
chained together, apparently all being led towards some central location,
probably the large theatre. She saw many
other captives that had also been caught indecent – some were missing shirts,
or dressed in pajamas, and one man wore no pants; Well, at least the evening’s
not all bad. She looked again. Actually, a quiet place and a bit of time
alone with that could make it rather nice!
She shivered and looked up, realizing with dismay who
she was lusting for – Mr. Carlson, the English teacher she used to have a crush
on, and he was staring back at her with an equally mixed look of lust and
consternation. Oh goodness, how can I be
getting wet again? Nysia looked over the rest of the crowd, but
saw no one else completely naked. Does
no one else shower in the middle of the afternoon? She wanted to scream.
A series of men and women in grey
uniforms continued to herd the prisoners towards the theatre like livestock. Each carried one of the prods, and when
anyone stopped, or even slowed too much, they’d be touched with the blue
sparks. The screams were horrible, and
the devices left a large welt and the smell of burned ozone. Nysia and her group hurried along, finally
reaching the theatre, which was packed with people. At its fullest, the room was only meant to
hold about five hundred people; but now it seemed every survivor of the attack
was being crowded in, and it looked like most of the four thousand people were
still on their feet.
She was forced up tightly against
the person in front of her – a large man who almost completely blocked her view
of the stage. More bodies pressed
against her sides, and then more where packed in behind her so tightly it
forced the breath from her lungs. Even
if she lifted both feet, it was so cramped she couldn’t have fallen down. The people around her struggled for room to
breathe, and she felt hands, elbows and other body parts of the faceless
strangers press against her and slide over her naked flesh. With every movement of the man in front of
her, his wool shirt scratched her nipples, making them so sensitive she wanted
to scream. A drop of moisture began to
trickle agonizingly slowly down her leg, and she longed to wipe it away. Oh my god, not here, she begged
silently. I can’t get wet here, everyone
I know is here, daddy is here, mum, my little sister, Mr. Carlson is here, Radley is here!
Anyone can see me, and I could just die, and why is that making me
soaked? Standing there, thinking of
nothing but why in the world this made her want sex so badly, it at first
seemed like part of her own fantasy when hands came to rest on each of her hips
and someone pressed up tightly against her ass.
She tried to look behind her, but
the metal collar wouldn’t let her turn her neck so far, and the press of bodies
prevented her from turning her own. It
was definitely a man; she felt his warm, rigid shaft as he rubbed against
her. Her eyes widened.
“Who is that? Mr. Carlson?
This really isn’t the best time…”
She heard the electrical crackle
next to her face before she saw it, hovering inches from her body. A man leaned over the balcony above, dangling
it threateningly. “When the captain
speaks, you shut the fuck up or I burn you.
Got me?” Omigod omigod...she
nodded rapidly, as much as the crowd and collar would let her, and closed her
mouth.
And indeed, the captain was
speaking; she could hear his voice, rasping and harsh, carried over the
speakers, although she still couldn’t see the stage. “You have been boarded by members of the
Citizen’s Navy in an attack against the imperialist overlords of the
Nysia lost track of the speech,
trying to remain calm beneath the fingers of her mystery paramour, and thought
for second that she hoped the occupation wasn’t too terribly brief. Mr. Carlson’s exposed prick came to mind as
she felt hot flesh wiggling to rest between her cheeks while hands explored
them as though it were perfectly within their rights. I really ought to feel indignation, she
thought, but her sex was so wet and her nipples felt so very good…. She used the small amount of leverage she
could gain to brush them along the wool shirt, as the large man was now
standing frustratingly still and intent upon whatever was happening on
stage. The scraping sensation felt
delicious.
She felt behind her with her cuffed
hands, grabbing hold of the man’s shirt – What do I do with that? She pulled it
closer, trying to get a better grip, and felt him shift behind her, taking her
tugging as an invitation. The hands
pulled her cheeks apart, and she felt a fingertip brush against her puckered
anus. A thought came to her: it had been
Brian – Ryan? – behind her on the chain, and maybe
that was him behind her now, groping her again when she was unable to
resist. “No no no no no,” she whispered
hoarsely, and clenched her bottom tightly, squeezing both the penis and finger
as she tried to deny them access. She
heard a grunt, and he stopped moving.
“…no harm will come to you unless
you resist….”
An abrupt jab in her side took her
breath away as a fingertip drove harshly between her ribs. She squealed like an animal as she tried to
arch away from it, and then realized her mistake. For just an instant her posterior relaxed,
and instantly the stranger behind her thrust his finger brutally into her
anus. She’d never had anything back
there – she was a proper girl, after all – and the violation burned, sending
waves of pain through her body. She
screamed like a banshee, “Oh god, get out get out get out!”
The entire theatre went suddenly
silent, and all eyes turned to her as the rod above quickly descended to touch
the metal collar. The blue sparks arced
and popped, snapping around the entire circlet like a noose of pure agony. She screamed again, this time nothing but a
formless howl. An hour ago she had been
a respected member of the elite, and now four thousand people stared as the
spectacle of her pain. Although they
could see nothing more than her head and shoulders above the press, Nysia felt
their gaze take in her nudity, her dripping sex, the
dick lodged between her butt cheeks and the finger inside her. How did I get to this? Another wave of pain burned her neck, and she
released her bladder uncontrollably in the middle of the theatre, warm urine
pouring down her legs and the finger began to thrust into her. She wanted to die.
“Yes, well, obviously not all of you
will choose to come with us,” the captain continued on, he – and everyone else
– suddenly ignoring her once again. “But
for those who wish to fight back against your oppression we have several things
to offer you….”
Nysia did try to fight back, but as
unidentifiable man began to slide himself faster between her cheeks, she
realized her squirming only excited him more.
He kept moving his finger in time with his penis, driving harder and
faster into her bottom. The pain brought
tears to her eyes, and she began to whimper.
“St…stop…will make…scream….”
He paused, unmoving, and she sighed
with relief; but then he pushed again, and she felt another digit tear into
her. His hips moved quickly in tiny
thrusts and his other hand began to pinch her left cheek cruelly. She began to cry in earnest; her attacker
wanted her to scream! He wanted her to
feel the rod again! He’d enjoyed her
humiliation, her pain, and the spasms of her muscles around his member as her
nerves burned with electric pulses! She did the only thing she could think of to
muffle her screams – she leaned forward, pressed her face into the woolen
shoulder of the man in front of her, and bit down as hard as she could.
The man grunted with the pain and
shifted slightly, and a moment later threw back an elbow. The man was built like a killball linebacker,
and the hit slammed into her stomach like a hammer. It would have made her double over and drop
to the floor like a sack if she’d been able to.
Instead, suspended between packed bodies, she could do nothing but take
the beating. Blow after blow hammered
into her tummy, until she felt her insides must be pulverized, as the man
behind her slid his warmth up and down her bottom. His fingers were busy, and when she finally
began to think the worst had passed and her body began to adjust a third finger
forced her wider. Her agony redoubled,
and so she bit harder, and so the rain of blows increased.
It became too much, and she felt her
senses surrender; there was nothing in the world but pain and the taste of
blood in her mouth and being used. Her
assailant shuddered against her, and warm liquid spattered across her butt and
lower back. At the feeling something
within her seemed to break; the pain in her belly and bottom and neck, the
humiliation of all she’d done in a room filled with strangers, erupted in
uncontrollable shivering, almost an epileptic fit. She hung, suspended between the men, as the
fingers at last withdrew from her bowels.
She cried, and panted, and then felt one final disgrace: having spent
himself on her, the man behind her, his identity still unknown,
pushed the head of his penis against her cheecks and began to pee. The warm liquid flowed down her crack to drip
from her sex and trickle down each leg: now she was
covered front and back in urine.
“…if you won’t come with us, you’re
dismissed.” It was over.
Suddenly the pressure upon her gave
way, and she collapsed to the floor. She
lay sobbing for a moment, then realized – It’s my only chance to find out who
that was! She struggled to her feet, unable to use her hands to rise, but just as she began
to turn a fist collided with her jaw.
She blacked out and never felt herself hit the floor, but a moment later
she in a puddle of piss and looked up into a bearded face above a blue woolen
shirt. “You dumb little snit, what they
hell did you bite me for?” He shook his
head and walked off. Looking around,
Nysia couldn’t tell who had been behind her, or to her sides, or anywhere:
everyone was in motion towards the exits.
The collar in the chain behind her, where the creepy underclassman had
been, was empty. He must’ve joined them,
she thought to herself, remembering something of the speech she’d just
endured. If it was him, he’s gone. If it wasn’t, well, this is over…we’re
dimissed…. A uniformed man stepped next
to her – the same one who shocked me? – and unlatched
the chain. She rose and began to walk,
dazed, towards her quarters.
A jerk on her arm brought her up
short. “Not you,
screamer. The major said you come
with us.”
She looked back, confused – there
must be some mistake? “I didn’t
volunteer. I won’t join you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. You aren’t a recruit doll, you’re goods.”
“But…” what was he saying? “You said we’d be free if we didn’t resist.”
“No,” he spoke patiently, as though
to someone stupid, “the captain said you were free if you joined us. Otherwise, we just promised to let you live.”
“I shouldn’t…I mean…I don’t…I’m a
proper girl, I don’t want to be goods!”
The man looked her nudity over, and
she blushed to realize urine still dripped down her legs. With a snort, he shrugged. “Shoulda joined the crew,
bitch.”
To be
continued: Comments, suggestions, and
ideas for inclusion are encouraged at ElectricBadgerAccessories@yahoo.com.
|
|
|