DiamondStar IV

Chapter XIII – There are Various Ways to Serve

 

            Early in the morning Nysia was startled into wakefulness, unsure of what disturbed her sleep.  She looked around nervously, trying to pierce the shadows, the motion rattling the chain that bound her nightly to the room’s wall.  Mistress yawned, roused by the sound, and spoke drowsily, “It’s just the engines, Freckles.  Go back to sleep.”  Nysia had wrinkled her brow in confusion: she couldn’t hear the engines at all….

            And then it came to her: the engines had stopped.  They’d never been completely powered down since she’d been taken from DiamondStar; always, the ship hummed with their vibration, until now.  Wherever the ship had spent the last weeks going, it had arrived. 

            Nysia hadn’t slept the rest of the night.  She was filled with dread at the unknown, trying to guess at every possibility.  Were they about to attack some other settlement, and would her mistress be involved, and would she be okay?  It was startling to realize she dreaded the possibility that Jillian could be hurt, or killed.  Have I lost my sanity, to feel ties to someone who gleefully tortures me for her own amusement?  How can I care this way for a woman, let alone one so cruel? 

            Other possibilities loomed.  The ship could be at a base or friendly settlement where Nysia would be sold, given away, or simply left behind.  She would be helpless if she were freed: with no credit, no identification, no home, hardly even any clothes, it didn’t take much imagination to understand what she would have to do to survive.  Could I be a whore?  Could I take money for sex, quick and dirty against a bulkhead, how the prostitutes in the books always operated?  She shuddered slightly, involuntarily, and realized she would do it if she had to; that part of her would enjoy it, got wet at the thought of a dominating, brutal pimp forcing her to fuck nameless men for payment she would never see.  Yes, I could be bartered like an animal and some part of me would be happy in my misery.  It wasn’t a comforting thought. 

            It was early when Mistress rose, ship time; but it felt to Nysia like the end of a long wait.  She tried to be attentive – toweling, touching, licking just as the major liked it.  She fawned like an adoring lover, smiling, helping, anticipating.  But her owner was on edge as well, and the devotion earned an irritated scowl at first, then a hard, backhanded slap across Nysia’s face, sending her sprawling to the bathroom floor. 

            Her eyes ablaze, still naked and wet from her shower, Mistress turned wordlessly to continue the assault.  Nysia didn’t resist; she knew better than that, and simply screamed and begged as blows snapped her head back and forth.  Blood flowed from her nose, filled her mouth.  Her head rebounded from the wall and reality seemed distant, the slap of skin more intense than the pain.  Somehow she was on the floor.  More beatings came, slaps but also fists, bare feet slamming into her stomach, no air.  She gasped, crawled after her breath as it was forced from her lungs, then just lay still and cried as her sight blurred, then faded away. 

            Time passed, as it does in dreamless sleep; without thought or notice, but with the sense of temporal distance.  The beating was over, though she knew it had continued longer than she’d been conscious.  She opened her eyes, and saw she was still in the bathroom.  It took a few moments to realize she was lying on the floor.  Then the smell, and taste; blood and waste.  With a jerk, she was fully awake and sat up.  She hurt all over, her head and stomach throbbing with each heartbeat. 

            This was a new pain for Nysia; in the past she’d endured much more horrible tortures simulated through her implants, but when they ended most of the physical ache had gone away, leaving only the nightmares.  I think I rather prefer it that way, too.  After a moment the dizziness passed. 

            The stench around her was her own filth.  At some point during the beating, she must have lost all physical control.  She sat in her own urine, scat and vomit; it clung to her brown hair and slicked her pale body.  Some blood was mixed in as well, and there were splatters across the walls, but it didn’t look like too much; just a nosebleed, maybe a couple cuts is all, she thought with relief. 

            Mistress stepped into the doorway, fastidiously avoiding the soiled floor as she buckled her belt into place.  Finished dressing and ready to leave for her day, she leaned over, smiling, and tenderly kissed Nysia’s forehead.  “Thank you, dearest.  That was exactly what I needed to get the stress out.  Clean up when you’re able, and get some rest; I’ll see you tonight.”

            Nysia smiled back, weakly, and murmured in response.  “You’re welcome, Mistress.  Thank you.”  It was appropriate; she had planned the whole thing, after all, and knew from Jillian’s contented happiness that Mistress wouldn’t leave her any time soon.  Security was well worth a beating. 

            With a sigh, Nysia leaned back against the wall, still in her grime, and teased a breast with one hand as her left slid a finger up from behind.  She couldn’t do anything about her soaking sex, couldn’t cum, but she was too turned on to do turn to chores just yet.   

           

 

 

To be continued:  Please submit a review of this story on the bdsm library site – the author needs feedback! 

 

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