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Before
she fully understood what was occurring, Nysia had been led to another small
group of prisoners and once again attached to a chain. As the tether clicked into place, she finally
comprehended what was about to happen.
This wasn’t just a brief, forced coupling or abuse: she was about to be
taken away from her family, her home, and all she knew and held dear. The nightmare wasn’t over – oh my God, it’s
never going to end. I’m going to be a
slave.
Once,
such a thing had been illegal; but as humanity expanded in the infinite, there
was no way to control it, and finally the
Still,
Nysia protested. She screamed as loud as
she could; she called for her family, for Radley, for anyone to save her. The pirates were amused at first, and called
out taunts – Who’s going to stop us? Is your big boyfriend going to beat us up now
– maybe he was just waiting for the opportunity all this time! Your daddy won’t help you; we’ll send him
vids of all the shit we do to you, and he’ll be happier beating off to it than
putting up with your whining!
After a
while, however, they lost patience. The
tall one came up behind her and, with a laugh, touched his prod to the back of
her neck. Blue light arced wildly
through her nervous system, and she dropped, instantly. For the next couple of minutes she just twitched
on the floor in convulsions. Her eyes
were round with shock, and drool dripped from her mouth. Once she began to regain her senses the man
smiled again and slowly, deliberately, lowered the wand to hover inches from
her sex. Her legs were too numb to
protect herself. “Give me an excuse,
bitch. Please. I’ll fry your nerves so bad you’ll never feel
your clit again. Or are you gonna be a
good little slave?”
Nysia
had only a moment of indecision, watching the crackling sparks between her legs
– some of them sputtered off to fall on her skin. She began to cry, and nodded, and became a
slave.
Aboard
the cruiser, Nysia and the others were taken to a single, large room. It had probably once been meant for storage,
but now the metal walls encased a group of women – the other slaves the
revolutionaries kept. They were a sorry
looking group, comprised mostly of very young women. All were naked and collared. Other than the slaves, the room had no
features: no beds, clothes, or any other items were permitted to the girls.
When the
troops entered with the new captives in tow, the inhabitants fled to the far
walls like frightened animals. Wide eyes
stared nervously at the wands, and examined the prisoners. As the first of the new prisoners let in,
Nysia was simply released from the tether, unlocked from the handcuffs, and
shoved towards the wall – where she quickly joined the nervous slaves. The next one on the chain was then unlatched,
and guards stepped forward to grasp her clothing and cut and tear it away from
her body. She was old for this group –
in her mid twenties. Nysia recognized
her: Mr. Carlson’s wife. As her figure
was revealed Nysia found herself staring at it, examining
the large breasts and wide hips, and considering how hers compared – and
wondering if this woman’s husband had left the sticky gobs of cum that even now
dribbled down Nysia’s back and rear end.
I hope he did – and maybe he enjoyed it enough to soften the loss of his
wife. Would he find someone new? Would he share his seed with the next student
to fantasize during class? At the
thought, she began to feel her excitement growing yet again – what is with me?
– and when she saw some of the cum that had sprayed
onto her hands, she tasted it without a thought. It was delicious, with an indescribable salty
muskiness – she licked the rest from her fingers and thought, Who’s is this? If I
tasted him again, would I recognize it? Would
I scream at him, or beg for more?
She
looked up at sounds of a commotion. The
final girl on the tether had struggled against nudity, and they had used the
prod on her, just as they last had on Nysia.
The blond’s hair rose in a static halo as another prod jammed into her
side, but still she struggled, kicking out at her captors. They kicked back, with heavy boots and much
more effect, until the girl was too brutalized to move. It wasn’t until a marine grabbed the blond
hair to lift the girl’s head and spit in her face that Nysia recognized who it
was: Lisa, one of her best friends from class.
Lisa had
always been proud; she dominated their social group with her demands, and
everyone knew better than to argue with her.
Even now, with saliva dripping from her face, she arched her perfect
eyebrows and stared haughtily from ice blue eyes. The grey suited men didn’t care, however; her
resistance was feeble, and they began to cut apart her jumpsuit. Once again Nysia stared intently at the
process, watching with wonderment as each strip of clothing was cast
aside. Lisa had always been very
secretive about her body; she wore tight fitting garments that proved she was
slim and toned, but always covered her from chin to toe. “You haven’t earned a look,” she’d say to
those who asked about her habit, and then cut them with her own words. The rest of the students had decided she must
be scarred or discolored somehow.
The
students were wrong.
As Lisa
was revealed, Nysia saw what she had been hiding: tattoos. Dark, blood-red roses were twined with thorns
in ribbons around her wrists and neck; a large V was centered on her tailbone,
above a soft, perfect bottom; more wrapped around her ankles, and finally, in a
jagged pattern above her sex. The rich
colors against her pale skin, overlaid with red burns and bruises, were
breathtaking. Even their captors paused
to take in the effect.
“Well…this
one definitely goes to poker night,” one sighed, and the others nodded
unhappily. With that enigmatic comment,
they shoved her forward, into the center of the room, gathered up the clothing,
and left. A heavy metal door sealed shut
behind them.
Nysia
pulled her friend to the side of the room, pillowing Lisa’s head in her lap and
wondered what would happen next.
The
trouble began when one of the slaves – the ones who had been here before –
walked over to look at Lisa’s tattoos.
That wasn’t exceptional: most of the members had at some point or
another examined her, and Nysia had spent hours following the intricate designs
with her gaze as Lisa slept and recovered.
This woman, a tall, hardened woman with red hair, was simply more
obvious about it.
The two
friends had kept to themselves so far.
They’d held each other tightly, talking quietly in the near-total darkness
of shipboard night, speaking words of encouragement and bravery, and promising
to support each other through any obstacle they faced. For a while, Nysia had considered asking Mrs.
Carlson to join them – she hasn’t anyone here to help her, and she must be
missing her husband sorely. But it
seemed unseemly to comfort a woman for the loss of her love, when (what might
be) the same man’s seed was dried to an itchy, flaking glaze across one’s hind
end. After a while, a pair of slave
girls had gone to her, and spoken quietly; and after a few minutes, apparently
tired of quieting her nicely, they did so forcibly. One girl grabbed Mrs. Carlson’s wrists, and
raised them above her head, forcing the woman to bend over, and the other lay
back and spread her legs, pushing her head down between them. There had been loud slaps, forcing the woman
to cooperate, and then nothing but the sound of slurping and moaning.
The old
slaves, those who had been here before, ignored the incident completely; and
the new ones, shocked by the casual rape, looked around for someone to do
something, but no one did; and so the slaps and the slurping had continued for
most of the night. When it finally
ended, Mrs. Carlson crawled to a corner away from everyone, and cowered, and
never cried again.
But now
it was morning – the lights had come back on – and the red haired woman had
stared at Lisa’s tattoos, and then stated in a matter of fact voice, “You must
have really dug the pain. You’ll fit in
great here.”
Lisa’s
crystal blue, piercing eyes had flashed with fire; she’d risen, slowly and
deliberately – she was still having difficulty moving after her beating – and
did as the soldier had done to her: she spit in the woman’s face. “I’m not one of you.”
Almost –
almost – the woman had backed down from that stare, so intense and dominating
was Lisa’s gaze. But after long moments
of indecision, she’d pulled back her arm and thrown a punch into Lisa’s
stomach. In a heartbeat, half the room
was on their feet, rushing forward to grab Lisa and pin her to the floor. More took hold of Nysia as she tried to
intervene, pushing her up against the wall and grasping both her hands. She was helpless to watch as Lisa was forced
into a spread eagled position, with a woman pinning down each arm and leg. The red head stood over her, arms folded,
grinning.
“That
wasn’t smart, miss. Obviously you don’t
know how things around here work, so I’ll spell it out nice and clear. I’m Maxine.
What I say, you do. If you do as
told, we’ll be good to you. If not – if
you act like that ever again – we have ways of fucking you up without doing
anything the guards will complain about.
So what’s it gonna be, miss? You
can crawl over here and kiss my ass and say sorry – or we can show you who’s boss.”
Lisa
looked up and arched those perfect, narrow brows. “Fuck you.”
Oh
goodness…this is not going to end well, Nysia thought.
Maxine
just grinned. “I was hoping you’d say
that. Girls – you know the drill.”
Apparently
they did. The four women holding Lisa’s
arms and legs pulled tightly, keeping her secure, while their leader stepped
forward and kneeled over the pretty blond head.
With her sex only inches from Lisa’s face, Maxine released her bladder,
spraying urine onto the trapped girl’s face.
Her hips gyrated, and the stream hit Lisa’s breasts, shoulders, and
soaked into her hair. Lisa moaned in
protest.
“Ready to pledge servitude, miss high and mighty? Or do we get to have more fun?” Lisa just stared back,
and Nysia, still pinned to the wall, didn’t know whether to cheer for her
friend’s bravery or cry for her foolishness.
Maxine
kneeled down, locking Lisa’s head between her legs, and reached down to adjust
herself. Nysia was horrified to see her
place her slit directly over Lisa’s nose and settle onto her haunches; it
prevented any attempts to turn away, and also forced Lisa to open her mouth to
breath. Another girl – even with Maxine
and six others holding down the two friends, there were a dozen more on their
feet – came to squat over Lisa’s mouth, and immediately released her own
bladder. The tortured blond sputtered,
and Nysia knew she’d swallowed some.
After
that, each of the slaves took a turn squatting over her friend to relieve themselves. The old
slaves were first; some faced Maxine, exchanging deep kisses or lewd comments,
while others faced away, bracing their hands on Lisa’s body for support as they
took their turn. Once they were done,
the new captives, those who had so recently been Lisa’s crewmates, came
forward. Yesterday, they would have
exchanged polite greetings with her, smiled or waved as they walked by – today
each took their turn humiliating her.
Some were initially unwilling, and had to be shoved forward; others were
eager to take their place. Mrs. Carlson,
Nysia saw, was the most vicious of these: she ground her pussy into Lisa’s face
as she let go, and reached down to viciously twist both the victim’s nipples
until Lisa’s arched her back in an impossible shape, opened her mouth to
scream, and was filled with pee. The
school teacher’s wife had learned a harsh lesson last night about control, and
it was clear she was eager to use any she could get.
When
they were all done, it was Nysia’s turn.
She hadn’t thought that she might be told to – she was too shocked by
what she saw, by how quickly civilized women had become crazed and perverted,
to imagine that she was one of them. But
they dragged her forward and pushed her down over her best friend. Maxine leaned forward, her nipples hot points
against Nysia’s back. “You’re either
with us, or against us. You do it to
her, or we do it to you.”
She
cried, and looked down at her friend’s face.
Most of Lisa’s face was hidden between Maxine’s legs, with only her
mouth and chin exposed. She was
breathing heavily, no longer trying to avoid her abuse; yellow liquid soaked
her skin and hair; it covered Maxine’s lap and formed a large puddle under them
both. I can’t do that…and what’s just
one more? I’m so sorry Lisa…I’m so
sorry! Nysia closed her eyes and pushed,
sending a steady stream over her good friend.
Most of it went into Lisa’s mouth, and Nysia looked down, enraptured, to
watch the girl’s tattooed neck. A single
rose held in the center of a ring of thorns bobbed as she swallowed
repeatedly.
“All of
it,” Maxine breathed, and Nysia nodded in understanding. She relaxed her bowels to add another level
of humiliation to her best friend’s abuse.
Lisa had no warning, and as the excrement fell into her open mouth she
bucked and struggled anew – but she was feeble, and could gain nothing. Soon,
she stopped fighting and simply swallowed.
“Sit on
her face; she’d better get every damn drop.”
Oh dear, can I do this? Nysia
grimaced and lowered herself slowly, her hands on each of the blond’s
shoulders, until her sex brushed against Lisa’s pink lips; she felt her
friend’s tongue dart out, hesitantly at first, so lap up the remaining
moisture. Then the licking became more
confident, the tongue darting into moist reaches, and Nysia could only sigh and
relax, enjoying the sensation – enjoying my friend’s humiliation! What has come over me? – and
moving her hips back and forth to give access to all of her. As her anus passed over Lisa’s mouth, the
girl licked that too, and thrust her tongue inside it as well, sucking to clean
the mess.
When
Maxine reached beneath Nysia’s arms to cup her breasts and teased her nipples, she
found herself unable to take any more.
With a shudder, she came, releasing a new liquid into Lisa’s mouth,
which was lapped up as dutifully as the others.
After it
was over, Nysia fled back to the wall, her head swimming with questions – what
have I done? Will Lisa ever forgive
me? Why did I enjoy it so – why do I
want it again? She couldn’t look away as
Maxine slid down, releasing her own stream into Lisa’s mouth, and then abused
the exposed breasts as she took her own enjoyment from her captive’s
tongue. She screamed with her orgasm, gyrating her hips wildly against Lisa’s mouth, and when she
done Maxine simply stood up and walked off with her fellows.
Lisa
gasped for air for a minute, then crawled – too
exhausted and beaten to walk – to collapse next to Nysia. Despite her recent trauma, it was Lisa who
looked to her friend with concern. “Are
you okay? Did they do…that…to you too?”
Nysia
could only shake her head with bewilderment – she’s still speaking to me! –
“No, they pinned me up against a wall, until….” She trailed off, uncertain.
The blond
hunched against the wall; her hair dripped steadily onto her shoulders and the
floor. “How could they do that? The last two…Maxine and some other…I could
tell, they enjoyed it. They loved doing
that to me. My humiliation – it turned
them on, every second of it made them soaking.”
She
didn’t know! Her eyes had been covered,
but Nysia had assumed she would understand who Maxine was talking to. But instead, Nysia hugged her friend and
spoke words of comfort, condemning the sadism of her tormentors as she wiped
her own piss, mixed with so many others, from her friend’s face.
Much
later, during the next night, Nysia had the strangest dream. She awoke in the small hours, and looked
around the room to see that nearly everyone else still slept deeply. Only one other person was awake; in the
darkness it looked like Lisa, on her knees next to the drain the slaves used as
a toilet. Her face was pressed to the
floor, eagerly licking up the waste that had missed, or rested on the grate,
while her hand moved vigorously between her legs. Nysia watched for a few minutes, confused
what the dream meant, then rolled over and returned to a deeper sleep.
To be
continued: Comments, suggestions, and
ideas for inclusion are encouraged at ElectricBadgerAccessories@yahoo.com.
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