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Nysia
and Lisa spent a total of three days in the slave quarters.
There
was very little to do; once every day, shortly after the lights brightened in
morning, a member of the crew entered the room and led the women through a long
series of exercises. The instructor
introduced herself as Kelsey, and she came in alone, unarmed, and even stripped
off her top to lead the class in a tiny black sports bra and the baggy grey
military pants and polished black boots all the crew wore. Nysia was shocked until she learned that any
refusal or resistance would result in the entire group being punished; Maxine
and her cohort took sadistic joy ensuring that didn’t happen. When one of the women slowed down, or seemed
on the brink of refusing, it was fellow slaves that cussed, threatened, and
beat until the exercises continued. By
the end of every session they were left dripping with sweat and exhausted; but
at least, for a couple hours, the monotony was interrupted.
They
were made to stretch impossibly far; many of the slaves could do the splits and
Nysia learned that when enough force was applied, she could as well, although
she howled with the pain. They thrust
their hips and clenched muscles in their sex Nysia never knew she had. They ran in cicles, even her small breasts
jiggling while others’ swung pendulously.
They practiced a long series of contorted positions, each meant to give
access to an orifice in some new, horrid way.
Lisa, who had been a gymnast in school, managed most of the postures
with little difficulty – Nysia would have felt envy, but she was too busy distracted
with darker thoughts. Looking at the
sheen of sweat covering her friend’s body, Nysia couldn’t push away the memory
of kneeling over her mouth like a toilet, or the beautiful way Lisa’s body
gleamed when soaked with urine, or how her piss-dampened hair had clung to her
face very much like it did now. Why
can’t I get that moment out of my mind?
Did I really enjoy it, like she said?
Why do I want it to happen again so badly?
For indeed
she did – every time Lisa was ordered about, and her chin rose in haughty
condescension, Nysia felt her heart flutter with the hope the resistance would
push too far, that there would be another round of punishment. I would have to help with it – really, it’d
be a kindness, to have a friend do it compassionately. But then, I don’t want to be compassionate; I
want to see her struggle and fight, I want to feel her humiliation between my
legs, I love her dearly but I want to hurt her so badly! This is all so confusing…! Was this how that pierced pirate felt, how man
behind me in the assembly felt? And if
so, can I hate them at all, can I do anything but agree that yes, I should be
used against my will, forced, humiliated, raped, just as I want to do to Lisa? Maybe I’m not a proper girl at all, and
everyone knew but me, and that’s why I’m not drinking wine in silken gowns with
my witty captors?
After
the exercises they were left to themselves, and Nysia struggled to push her
confusion aside to speak with Lisa. She
asked after the tattoos, whose every movement was beautiful and hypnotic. For a while, Lisa seemed inclined to refuse
to answer, but after a long pause in conversation she spoke of them. She’d gotten her first on her navel when she
was 15; she’d designed it herself, and a medical droid had needled it. It had been a secret to revel in, something
no one knew about her – truly her private place. “Now everyone can see my secrets; it’s
mortifying.” Only in the last year, with
school and gymnastics behind her, had she done the work on her throat and
wrists. “No one knew. Not even my parents! I kept looking for someone worth sharing them
with, some boy or…well, someone. But nobody
was quite right.” Or…girl? Nysia wondered. There had been rumors, for a while, that Lisa
was that way, but nothing was ever confirmed – as far as Nysia knew, Lisa had
never even kissed anyone. When pressed,
Lisa agreed. “Like I said…no one seemed
quite right. And now…well, now my
secrets are worth nothing, and I wish I would only be called upon for
kisses.”
For the
time being, however, the new arrivals weren’t called on for anything. The other slaves weren’t so lucky; in the
evening, shortly after the overhead sprinklers had delivered a hard, cold
shower throughout the room, they began to be hauled off in small groups to
entertain the crew. Hours later they
would return, bruised, disheveled and spattered with cum. Maxine, whenever she returned, would send her
friends to haul Lisa over and force her to her knees. They pulled back the blond hair and forced
Lisa’s mouth to the red curls and soiled sex, and abuse her breasts and nipples
until she’d sucked and licked every drop of spent seed; sometimes Maxine turned
around and Lisa was made to clean her backside as well, if the crewman had
chosen to use that entrance. “You’d
better learn fast, miss,” Maxine had said the first time it happened, “to get
that rebellion out of your eyes, or you won’t last long.” Still, somehow, Lisa seemed to look down upon
the others even as she was abased and made to serve in the most horrid
ways.
For her
part, Nysia couldn’t control herself during the punishments. As her comrade was beaten and molested, her
sex grew wetter; while watching Lisa’s tongue work deep within a pussy or anus,
she had to reach down to touch herself, pretending it was she being served. The more Lisa was degraded the more turned on
Nysia became, until she was frigging herself the instant the other slaves laid
hold of her companion. The first time Maxine
noticed this behavior, she’d simply laughed and winked; from then on, the
redhead made an effort to always keep Lisa turned away from her would-be ally,
and Lisa never realized her abuse was a spectacle to her friend. Afterwards, Nysia would offer comfort even as
she shivered with the last waves of orgasm from delight with the suffering.
Truly,
I’m no sort of friend at all.
The
third night aboard ship was poker night.
What this meant, neither of the two girls could find out; the others
spoke of it almost with resentment.
Finally, during the afternoon of that day, one of Maxine’s henchwomen
told Nysia. Lisa was in the center of
the room, lapping the crack of Maxine’s bottom clean in long, deliberate
strokes of her tongue, pinned down and oblivious to the world. Nysia and the slave were reclined on their
elbows; both had just masturbated, and shared quiet conversation as they
watched, recovering for another effort -- and Lisa thinks I’m being held down
myself so I can’t rush to her aid, not chatting amiably with her
oppressors.
“When we
get new slaves, some are set aside for the officers,” the woman explained idly,
“generally the young and pretty ones, which is why
everyone hates you for it. From what I
hear, I’d rather stay down here – there are worse things than a whore.”
“But…”
she struggled with what that comment seemed to imply. “Why poker?”
“Apparently
that’s how they sort out who gets who.
Lots of gambling, both money and flesh; whoever wins you, owns
you.”
Nysia
tried to imagine what would happen, and failed; she began to form another
question about what was in store, but then Lisa began to scream. Nysia’s sex flooded and her fingers moved
quickly, and poker was entirely forgotten.
After
Maxine finished, Nysia told her exhausted friend what she’d learned. Lisa was too tired to even wonder how such a
conversation had taken place as her ally struggled to help her; she just sighed
and shrugged. “At least we’ll be out of
here. We knew something like this was
going to happen. No dandy officer could
be worse than that bitch Maxine.”
Later, when
the showers started, they rubbed each other clean and afterwards did their best
to comb out each others’ hair with their nails, although it wasn’t entirely
clear why they should want to look nice for their own auction. As she says, Nysia thought, any officer would
be better than this. Who knows – maybe we’ll
end up in silk yet!
That
evening, along with the veteran slaves, several of the new girls were called to
service. Nysia winced when Annalise
Carlson was one of the first, and walked grimly to her task. Poor darling…she’s about to
be raped yet again. But only a
few minutes later a dozen troops in crisp, starched uniforms entered and read
off six names: both Lisa and Nysia were on the list. And, I suppose, so are we.
They
rose to walk towards the revolutionaries; but Lisa pulled her companion back
for a moment, and turned to face her.
She leaned forward suddenly, and her lips touched Nysia’s; they were
soft, and despite everything they tasted sweet.
So did her tongue, when it twined around her friend’s in a deep, sensual
kiss. Lisa pulled their bodies close,
giving no chance to pull away, and their bodies and breasts pressed
together. When they broke the kiss, Lisa
smiled. “I wanted my first one to be
with you. Whatever happens…whatever we
have to do…you’ve been a great friend; I love you Nys’.”
Nysia
hugged her friend, and felt excited and sick all at once. Then hands grabbed them, attached leashes to
their collars and pulled them like animals from the slave quarters.
To be
continued: Comments, suggestions, and
ideas for inclusion are encouraged at ElectricBadgerAccessories@yahoo.com.
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