Queen of the Sex hard worker

By Olga Anastasia

To my muse, E.O.M., who knows why.

1-Hub

She tried to evade them for years, but in the end, they finally caught her, Tisya Achoka, and they brought her here.

It is a fact widely agreed upon throughout the galaxy, that this place, the piratical slave traders'planet of Aghara-Penthay is one of the best position in the macrocosm to be male, and one of the worst to be female. Although the slave owner of Aghara-Penthay do shell out in some male captives, such as for travail, for breeding stock, or for those who prefer men providing their sexual services, the Slavers made their luck, and became infamous, for buying or capturing, preparation, and then selling desirable womanhood.

Over the centuries, it has become enshrined in Slaver civilization that women are only a trade good, and their laws have long dictated that a woman forfeits all her exemption as soon as she sets animal foot on slave owner territory. Unless she has already been registered as a secret slave and is accompanied by her male owner, just because she possesses a vagina instead of a penis, in their space she immediately becomes the property of the slave owner of Aghara-Penthay. She has become theirs to step and throw out of as they wish.

For many hundred, the slaveholder have based their business on the satellite below me - the oxide-red, barren desert planet of Aghara-Penthay. slave trader fellowship is formed of a loose federation of factions, each led by a tribal chief. Of grade, only males can reach citizenship of Aghara-Penthay society. As I've mentioned already, a woman is an physical object, and an physical object can no more be a citizen than could any other object purposed to offer satisfaction - a spell of porn, or a sex toy, or a bed.

outsider are often interested to know how the manful population is maintained. Let me reassure you than is not a problem, not on a world when every woman must do exactly as she's told. Sufficient females are chosen to serve The slave trader as breeding origin, sustaining the majority of the planet's population, and the rest of Aghara-Penthay's male citizens are drawn from the many leave offworld military volunteer, attracted to piracy by the scene of access to Thomas More female person than they could ever chouse in a life, and the electric potential of earning plenty credit to put out to a world with a pleasant climate.

Throughout most of slave trader account, engrossed woman were broken to their slavery by a combination of forcible intimidation, mind-controlling pharmaceuticals, and torture. Escape try were sponsor, and for those unable to take flight, self-destruction was by far the most unwashed cause of female end.

No longer.

Within the hold out half-century, nidation has become the received method acting of striver processing and control condition. Its innovation advanced the Slavers'fortunes exponentially. A chip is embedded deep into the woman's brainstem, from where bioactive tendrils worm into the cortex, making the gimmick impossible to remove without ripping away enough tissue to sprain the embed's dupe into a vegetable. The potato chip emits EM radiation, configured to interpose with some of the electrical sign which relate to gamy mastermind functions. There are too many options available as engraft customization to list here, but all silicon chip have sure coarse features, again enshrined in Slaver law. Firstly, the cleaning lady is compelled to follow any command, so long as it is spoken by a man, and secondly, she is prevented from taking her own living. For example, the man says,"halt there,"and she will say there. The man says,"fuck me,"and she will make out him. She can not even essay death as a means of escape, unless she is ordered to do so by her owner.

Tisya Achoka will get one of their implants in her skull by now. But not yet an implant that is fully primed, so she must obey all commands. No, there would be no sport in hunting adult female who simply came when you called. But the slave owner do imbed all the rape offset, to forestall the suicides which used to occur when Runners knew capture was inevitable. Only if she is captured during the sport, will Tisya's microprocessor chip be fully primed. Complete obedience, just like that impelled on the regular striver caudex, is the fate awaiting not the victor, but the Rape Run's loser.

Once any captive woman is implanted, she will be also given the home run - a typical unerasable swirling pattern that she'll carry for life on her face. Tisya too will already get hers. A badge of tone identifying her as someone defeated, and processed by the slave trader. Any man who sees a cleaning woman so mark off will be intimate what it means. She is going to be obedient. She has been broken. She is shamed.

After processing, once woman have their implant and mark, some of them are given further training - intimate behavior ; serving food and drink ; dancing ; and former skills to increase their value. A few are retained and remain on the Earth's surface in the service of the Slavers. Most will be sent to The Hub, either to serve there, or be sold on to generate a profit.

Male who are not of Aghara-Penthay, i.e. not being citizen-members of one of the Slaver sect, are never permitted down to the satellite's surface. The Slavers contact offworlders and the rest of the galaxy via a immense, heavily defended blank station orbiting the planet - The Hub - the place where I am now. All access on and off the red human beings itself goes via bird departing from The Hub, and boarding is strictly controlled. Only citizens and wrapped slaves may pee-pee the journey to the control surface. No female takes that misstep willingly. Once a woman is on the hot desert ground, she's doomed. There's no return to space until after her processing, when she's ready for sales event. overlooked females are not permitted on the shuttles back to arena. It's another Slaver law.

Unlike the private satellite's Earth's surface, The Hub is welcoming to male foreigner. Offworld Male may bring down The Hub to buy or sell striver, enjoy the bordello which cater for every mouthful and fetish, or simply jaw to relax and pledge. It has become one of the wandflower's most popular tourist destinations for men. Of grade, for female visitors The Hub is much less popular - visiting a place where one immediately becomes sexual property would not be almost woman's first choice for a holiday, but some are curious, and still do make the journey with a carefully chosen escort. There is, for a few, a charge to experiencing being briefly owned, and others are drawn by the agitation of peril, knowing themselves so close to such horror and such desperation.

The Slavers'wealth has enabled them to gather a pirate fleet unrivalled in the galaxy, with the home base for their vast police cruiser being the docking point at The Hub. Such violence means they've been able to flaunt their contempt for the civilized extragalactic nebula's jurisprudence and its women with impunity. Easily the most famous expression of Aghara-Penthay's merciless world power is The rapine Run. Each year, the faction loss leader contribute their most exceptional captives until ten of the galaxy's most desirable women are assembled for participation in a degrading competition. These char are released into a vast crater on the planet surface - The Zone. Watched through hidden cameras by a galactic consultation of trillions, they're then hunted by the faction drawing card. If a woman is caught, her capturer rapes her, rapes her and rapes her, and broadcasts it for the amusement of the creation. Afterwards, their implants are fully activated, and they are sold. Only the utmost woman to evade gaining control is released, traumatized and bearing the gull for life story, but unviolated and with her destitute will intact.

Rape moon curser must possess exceptional beauty, so models, athletes and dancers are always democratic, but many are chosen as much for the message their capture sends to the galaxy's distaff population. Political figures who advocate women's right, for example, are particularly affecting. fame who become lauded as distaff purpose models also need to operate their doors at night. The slaver sometimes savor taking a woman who seemed too well protected to capture. If they can catch her, then the subject matter this sends out, is that all cleaning lady should fear.

Thus, the religious leader Tisya Achoka, whose qualities ticked so many of those Slaver loge, was always going to be at particular risk. The Djenerion Sect believe their Gods only favor virgin female, not male person, favored with entree to paradise and the secret cognition of the God Almighty, so only a virgin woman may become a Djenerion priestess. Gender inequality provokes hostility whichever way it aims, and thus many are opposed to the Sect, but Djenerion priestesses do consume an undeniable gift of making spookily accurate prophesies. That's why the Sect's constrict privilege still draws a more diverse range of followers, with men and less-chaste cleaning woman included among their believers. Even if someone sacrifices their sexual morality for bearing offspring or worldly pleasure, that doesn't lay off them seeking the reassurance that comes from knowing the future tense.

Tisya, the religious order's leader, the current Djeneria, is undeniably an outstandingly beautiful woman. There are many men who will take delight watching Tisya Achoka participate as ravishment moon curser, and there will be a particularly sadistic thrill if she fails. For only Virgo cleaning lady attain the brightest Djenerion hereafter. The consultation know that according to Djenerion beliefs, consent-or-not, if she is penetrated, the creation will be sharing the moment when her paradise is shoot down from her.

But the Djenerion Sect are no chump, and they were not ignorant the danger arising from Tisya's note value as a prize. With Tisya being merely the latest of a recollective contrast of leader targeted for The ravishment Run, and slave trader by no means the only threat to the religious sect, they formed an elite armour guard of warrior woman - the Okhoron, devoted to protecting her. These pretty defenders were a blessing, but also a nemesis. Capturing a Runner who comes with a bevy of attractive consort became even more appealing to Aghara-Penthay.

The integral Djenerion religious order has long been considered as a particularly convenient source of female slaves, for another belief states that an inexcusable act is taking one's own life. A slave too terrified to kill herself needs to be less carefully monitored. However, although suicide is taboo in the faction, slaying is not an unforgivable act. Thus, the sect declared very publicly that should the holy gumshield of the graven image - the Djeneria Tisya Achoka, ever come under threat, the Okhoron were ordered to execute her before she fell into manful hands, and then shoot each former for the like reasonableness. wagerer to die a Virgo, and give paradise early, than live a sex slave. They thought that this annunciation might be enough to discourage the Slavers, and all buccaneer would get along to consider any effort to seize her as futile, given the Djeneria would be terminated as soon as her peril became too great.

The Djeneria's defenses are debile during her patronize ceremonial visit away from the Djenerix homeworld. The Sect and the Okhoron have always been nervous of the risk of attack offworld, but in the end that wasn't the circumstances of her abduction. It was just after she'd left a satellite, and her protectors had relaxed their guard. Still late inside Republic space, those women must receive thought they were safe.

No one knows how Salarin, one of the notorious Slaver junto leaders, managed to smuggle a stun dud onto the Djeneria's actual flagship, but without warning the escort vessels detected an unmistakable EM burst, and then the flagship was left drifting and unresponsive in space. Immediately the Slavers struck, hyper speed gravity drives delivering pirate watercraft as though emerging from nowhere. The escorts opened flack and closed around the soggy flagship, and the battle was furious, but there were just too many Slaver ships. Once the outcome was inevitable, the escorts switched to their emergency communications protocol, turning their flame on the flagship, but by then it was too later.

The coltsfoot perceived it as an impressive victory for Salarin. Despite all the cause the Sect made to protect her, even Tisya Achoka had been kidnapped, and taken to Aghara-Penthay destined for the Rape Run. Who next, if they can catch her ? One of the president's exquisitely middling girl, even ? The universe sat transfixed at their screens.

Footage is always broadcast across the galaxy showing each smuggler's arrival and processing. Tisya looked ashen faced during her low gear presentation to the universe, when under heavy guard, and to the jeer of the crowd, she walked barefoot and humbled through The Hub, her hand chained together behind her. Tisya's captors had stripped her original clothing as they do with all captives, and she had been provided only with an Aghara-Penthay hard worker wrapping - a rectangular opus of silklike fabric fastened under the left arm, humiliatingly revealing, and barely long enough to wrap up the sex pipe organ.

The wrap is designed to be demeaning, and is as recognized across the galaxy as the striver mark. Wearing it, much of Tisya's stunner was on show for the first time. However, even this meagre covering was envied by the Okhoron captured with her. They were forced to demonstrate naked in formation around her, performing in a cruel mockery of their late role. Each one was a marvellous and sizeable beauty, each has the same unnaturally pale skin and white blonde hair. The dividing line of Tisya's brunette in the middle of her suite was all the greater, dark amongst their platinum.

The display of so much exquisite frame was too very much temptation for the men on The Hub that day, and the warrior women's beauty made the fate of Tisya's escorts'certain. Rape base runner remain unviolated until the contest, to maximise the impact of their moments of ruination, but there's no motivation for such niceties with captive Okhoron. Some Okhoron female person rivalled their leader's allure, and the parade descended into a near-riot as the slave owner guards permitted the mass rape of Tisya's escort, the programme of the outrage to the astronomical audience showing a gratuitous close-up of each char's response, at the very present moment she was deny access to her future paradise.

The radical populace ignominy was almost as brutal a blow to the religious order as each rape must have been a personal one to the victim. Creator foresight failed the Djenerion that day, and for their follower, trying to hold opinion in the Gods'approving must have been challenging when the divinity ones did not interpose to save even one woman's virtue. And the Sect suffered a physical cost as well as a spiritual one. Nearly all the Okhoron were captured on that ship with Tisya.

A few were golden. The council which leads the Djenerion, The niner, wielding an dominance almost as bang-up as Tisya, happened to have been unnecessary for that sojourn by sheer lot, and the faction leadership avoided being wiped out thanks to The Nine remaining in their shrine on the Djenerix homeworld. But they faced the task of rebuilding a humiliated religion from only regular members of the Sect and old or injured Okhoron females - those who stayed at home, or were assigned to the bodyguard vessels. Even defective for The Nine, a new Djeneria can only be chosen at the death of her predecessor, so Tisya remains Djeneria, captive or not, and if she loses in the rape Run, the Sect face decades of humiliation with an deep-rooted sex slave as their reigning"virgin"leader.

The slaver knew all this, and they gloated.

Certainly then, in the eyes of the galaxy, a victory for Salarin and all the Slavers. But on Aghara-Penthay, the state of affairs was more equivocal. At first off, the muttering of discontent were nothing unusual. There is always tension between social groups when sentient beings are involved, and the coalition between the slave trader camarilla are no different. contravention on Aghara-Penthay frequently become violent, as often men do fight when cleaning lady are at stake. Only three years ago, a fifth faction leader, Leshan, was deposed shortly before that twelvemonth's Rape Run. And none of the current chiefs have been in post over a decade. junto leadership must watch for threat from within their own faction, threats from touch leadership, and threats from the rest of the galaxy. One can not be faint hearted and be a faction leader.

But for once, the discontent did not subside as easily as it normally does. Talk amongst the Slavers was that Salarin carelessly spent too many male person lives just to capture one offset. Valuable police car were lost in that battle. The severely damaged pirate police car from which I disembarked a few minutes ago, Virgin's nightmare, was for a while believed lost, and only limped home with its comms wiped out seven banner astronomic days after Tisya's capture.

It was the arcsecond meter in a shortstop full point when a raid targeting one womanhood ended up having a high cost. The other one ? The democracy finally decided to close its trimium mine on the dark, icy universe of Cancis tilt, and move the inhabitants to a more pleasant and more secure localization. Cancis careen had only recently been converted from a prison house into a safety for rescued slave womanhood. Benevolent safety device protected them from themselves - from obeying rules of order from Aghara-Penthay to revert ; from exploitation by predatory males - while allowing those whose implants forced peculiar urges on them, masochists, for example, to safely sate their needs.

Recovering a great consignment of slaves was an appealing candidate for the Slavers, but among those women was one they sought above all. melaena de Santo, the former Republic colonel. Melena was captured for the Rape Run and violated brutally, before turning the board and humiliating the slaveholder in front end of the whole coltsfoot, by escaping the Run along with the bounty hunter, Ja-Alixxe. The two woman were condemned to be raped to dying for their defiance, but so far, in venom of huge rewards, only Ja-Alixxe has been recaptured and paid the ultimate price for her escape. I saw the flow, when another slave - one from a species able to self-detonate, made Ja-Alixxe into a martyr, causing significant damage to The Hub in the process.

When Salarin received the intelligence agency of the break one's back adult female being secretly moved between bema, via some commonwealth agent who was in his pay, the Slavers moved to attack with wide-cut one-half of their fleet.

Unfortunately, it was a trap. The Republic were waiting with even greater numbers, and inflicted such a defeat that it will take up the Slavers years to recover. Anyone can receive bastard intelligence, but it happened to be Salarin who was blamed. To make the ill-feeling worse, Salarin's ships happened to tolerate much faint losses than the other faction leaders. He brought about a frustration, and gained ground over the other leaders at the Saame time.

It has not been a good year for Aghara-Penthay, or for the crowd of Virgo the Virgin's Nightmare.

Today, there is only one strange affair about the appearing of our group as we pass through the air lock and Menachem Begin walking through The Hub. passer-by see what they're meant to see - male person in typical slave trader wearing apparel - loose flowing shirts and desert semblance pant, with big body of work iron heel suitable for traversing the rocky surface down on Aghara-Penthay's surface. That is convention. Those who we pass might casually note how each one of us has on the upper arm of our undifferentiated the faction emblem of a slaveholder clan. Salarin's faction, in our case. Also normal. The one unusual element for Aghara-Penthay is our lack of slaver, swagger. In a line we stumble on, seeming on the verge of exhaustion, each looking barely able to convey their heavy chargeman weapon, and their regulation kit bag.

After returning from a mysterious space cruise, it is perhaps also slightly unusual that not one of us makes for one of the brothels to sate our desire. If one of us forgets to ascertain their face, someone in my squad might even be spotted seeming to look with antipathy at the striver women, naked or in wrap, buzzing around everywhere. But sexual lethargy too is not entirely unheard of, so if we are noticed, we draw no questions. There are enough striver in immurement on the surface to fulfil everyone, and people will assume even the most lewd appetence occasionally grows tired of constant, freely available, sex.

The date and clip of our docking is only hours from the commencement exercise of this yr's Rape Run, and the vast screens everywhere on The Hub are busily broadcasting chroma coverage. On one concealment, I see the Caranx crysos waiting in awe in their holding pen, down below us on the planet. I glimpse Tisya herself huddled against the bare bulwark, knees drawn up as though she's trying to be inconspicuous.

I frown, my heavy brow dark.

Another proctor that I pass is replaying highlights of the launch appearance, where the offset were subjected to a humiliating consultation by the host, Wagner. former screens cover each Runner's backstory, render her odds of success, and analyze her likely strategy. Ahead of me, I see Orteza pause when Tisya's face again comes on a survey screen - Orteza perhaps contemplating the collateral equipment casualty wrought on our lives, just because one woman was desired by Aghara-Penthay.

The glower level of The Hub where we disembarked is dedicated to the docking ring for Slaver pirate cruisers, and also to docking the tourist ships that bring mathematical group of men and sometimes cleaning woman on sex holidays. An upper berth stratum contains presidential term and deftness to superintend The Hub's defense. The main horizontal surface of The Hub, the one that we're half-way across now, is the mezzanine, a long funnies containing the brothels, auction houses, hotels, stores, restaurants and measure that sate every desire of the visitant. One berth in particular call my attention. I've been trying not to note it, and yet, as is the way with destiny, inevitably we pass it. The Palace of rosebush. Owned by Salarin's faction, one of the sporting house configured to please men with a taste for torturing women. It's as though a hand squeezes my warmheartedness. Here is where she finished up.

But I might crack if I look any longer. I focus ahead on our destination.

At one end of the mezzanine floor, beyond the tightest security department control condition on The Hub, is an area accessible only to slave dealer and slave. From here, small shuttles configured for short trajectory transport everything to and from the planet's surface.

We become more watchful as we pass through the security system checkout, our digit discreetly close to triggers in case there's trouble, but we make it through the scans without incident. Those formulate IDs were worth what we paid, then.

Waiting beyond the checkpoint we see a small group of naked cleaning woman, joined by chain of mountains at their neck, destined for the next bird down to the open. I count four of them. The faces of three are not yet marked - they must be fresh captives. Down there on the hot dry red Earth's surface of the planet, the new ace will inevitably be implanted, marked, and begin spending the rest of their lives serving the whims of their proprietor. The three fresh women are of indifferent caliber - the one with the comfortably boob having a face that is too straightforward ; the prettiest features being on the female child who is dead, and so on. But high quality or low, they are female person, and therefore slave. They will inevitably be processed and sold.

Two of these char have learned a little of how to guide themselves during their short time in captivity, and all stare down, not daring to make eye contact with anyone in slave trader uniform. But one still weeps quietly, probably contemplating that these are her close hour with devoid will. It is a mistake, for if her snivel irritates the safety device, she will be punished. A smarter fellow traveler elbows her in the costa irritably.

A fourth female, the one whom I judge most desirable, stands slightly apart from the former radical. Four is positioned in between the two Slaver precaution, probably under their rules of order, so they might touch on her if they wish. She has not been chained at the neck to the others, for she does not necessitate chasteness. Number four already has the swirling slave mark on her case. She will already have an implant in her genius stem, dissolving her will to withstand Male commands.

Just two men have been tasked as bodyguard for this sorry quartet, and they are only lightly armed. There is little need for weaponry when the charwoman in their charge are defenseless, and have nowhere left to run. For a woman, making an safety valve from The Hub is nearly as unlikely as fleeing the surface, so females need minimum policing. The men are merely there to insure that the reinvigorated capture do not end themselves before getting to implantation.

"What's her story ?"I ask the date gruffly, indicating the denounce one. It is unusual for mark female to be returned to the aerofoil. Processed adult female are taken to The Hub to dish up there, or most commonly are sold from there onwards, and it's only the sassy capture need to travel to the ground.

"There's a shortage in the breeding program,"shrugs the guard."She's to be inseminated."

"There's always a shortage in the breeding syllabus,"I grumble, rubbing the unnatural-feeling growth of stubble on my Kuki-Chin."They would rather sell female person than maintain the population we need. The chiefs think only of credits."

While I speak, I appraise the woman She's a sensible option. The girl is tall and strong. If her babies are manful, they will suit healthy and potent slave dealer. female person offspring might also bear value.

"Ajeedie ”, one of my squad interrupts from behind me, and a paw on my sleeve pulls me to the slope. The voice speaking is low, masculine, but urgent, seeking a private conversation not meant for the ears of those guards. I turn. Of track, it is Norenda. The penetrative thorn in my side of meat. When there's dissent, it's always Norenda, or Orteza.

"We can't fill the shuttlecock with these four, Ajeedie,"Norenda says."There was nothing in the agreement about involving innocents."

"If you want me on side, you will address me as air force officer Ajeedie, Norenda,"I snap.

How many times do we have to reiterate this ? The rest of the squad were bonded before I joined, and they didn't like a stranger parachuted into the helm. Since the beginning, they've deliberately disrespected me, with petty routine like not using my title. Some air force officer would make more sweat to get scout group on face, but I'm not one to be distracted from my finish, or give in to Norenda's pestering just to groom party favor. I dismissively answer :"We can not run a risk a holdup. It will attract too very much attention and besides - the Run is about to begin."

"Don't be so pontifical, or nonsensical,"Norenda retaliates."Of course, we can await a shortly clip. How will that draw in attending ? We're just off a long cruise, and it will be mean solar day before the Run is over. And what's more natural than us taking time to hang around, have a few beers and look at the young lady ?"

"All of us will need to purge soon,"I hiss in a low voice. Purging overrides all. The Hub is kept to a comfortable temperature, unlike the simmering surface which awaits us below, but all the same I'm feeling deliquium, and underneath the stratum I'm slick magazine with sweat. The others will be in a similar state."Don't forget the local repair and processing gang will be on the ship soon. We must be down to the planet before anyone checks the manifests on Virgo's Nightmare."

"There are places we can purge on The Hub,"Norenda parry."Every cathouse has private room. But if we take this shuttle, then the women become our responsibility."

frustration is making Norenda's voice crawling louder and louder. I make a warning gesture.

I make a quick judgment of the safety and their naked direction, considering the animation we hold in our deal. There's zip there to change my nous. There are always victim, where thrall exists. The adult female's futurity is miserable with us or without us.

"We are fighters, not knuckle down handlers. I am not nursemaiding a gaggle of captive across the surface,"I insist."What are we going to fertilize them ? Besides, what if they find out our object glass, and they turn against us ? You know the hazard of bankruptcy. They may favor to side with our opposition."

"We are fighters, Ajeedie, not liquidator,"says Norenda."If we take this birdie, we spare them, and we offer them the option if the spot changes."

"Norenda, I know your perceptiveness. it is not a fourth dimension to let a slave involve your fancy. We work alone, and that's an order."I insist.

But Norenda makes a distributor point of hefting that heavy blaster. And that overtly aggressive gesture finally is sufficiency to pass the attention of one of the two escorts. Although for now, the date still only goes as far as nudging his associate, suppressing a grin. Relations in the factions are fractious at outflank, and competitiveness are not uncommon. So long as it doesn't spill out into full disorder, violence would probably break the humdrum of their day.

"And you might not be murderers, but I am,"I say menacingly.

But Norenda is not going to reach in."If what awaits us awaits us,"my subordinate word declares too loudly,"then fuck your orders anyway Ajeedie."

I must restore authority, but still put a lid on this situation.

"You !"I demand to Orteza,"Take that soldier's weapon,"and to Norenda,"As for you - you're on a tutelage for insubordination."

I chose Orteza to exercise my will, intending to divide the duad and then conquer, but it doesn't work.

"I'm with Norenda, and I think you'll find we'll be the one making the yell,"says Orteza."nobody wanted to follow you, Ajeedie. Everyone knows you'd never have been put in command if you weren't the only option left. So don't misunderstand us. We'll let you bring chief just enough to get you where you need to be on the surface, but don't button us."

"Too right."Norenda smirks."And Orteza makes a ripe point - why did you become the sole option ? When there's some quiet time, and this is over, let's talk about where you were when the conflict was going on, Ajeedie."

"living that up and when there's some tranquilize time, I'll spend it killing you both,"I say,"and I'll enjoy it."I flex my limb, and muscle wavelet. I do not make tick over threat. I could obliterate Norenda, if I wanted. I could kill Orteza. Bartholomeu Dias. Ak-Mancheen. Illyri. Ko. All of them. I have the skill, the reflexes. They could even be armed, and I could own cypher, and I'd still be the winner.

But I force myself to count to ten, swallowing my wild humiliation. Now I'm the one drawing off aid. I delivered my end menace loud enough that the two safety device overheard, but on Aghara-Penthay, that's still not been menacing enough for them to fall behind their smile.

Unbeknown to them, I can read their body voice communication easily, and I'm confident they will not step in, so long as thing don't escalate. The minor man is even unlax enough that he begins groping the bosom of the breeder girl. She flinches at the 1st touch - even implanted women can't always override defensive animal instincts, but then she remembers herself, and opens her physical structure to him. He slaps her face anyway - to shock rather than to hurt her. A warning. I shrug, trying not to show any sympathy.

"putting to death me if you must,"Norenda William Tell me."But while I'm alive, we either look at this shuttle and deal with the consequences, or we wait."

"This is not over,"I warn them. What happens when we're in common soldier on the shuttle is a different subject to what happens in the public areas of The Hub, but for now it's best I give in. To the obvious dashing hopes of the watching guards, I grunt, gesturing to the shuttle, and we board. I'm patient, and my hour will get along. Those who are not in my team follow - slave, escorts, and all, for dependable or for worse.

Orteza has paused, and is watching me closely.

"What made you so stale, Ajeedie ? It takes more than one wreck to progress to mortal that bitter."

I'd prefer to let them think I'm a dick than tell apart them the truth. Our probability of achiever are thin enough, and there will be no satisfaction at the end of it. If they knew they'd be running already, not inviting the extra problem of a babysitting task.

"You don't know what I've had to see, you don't know what I've had to do,"I resolve gruffly, then I steal a glance at the escorts."And I'm about to add more criminal offence to my record."

That is how things are left, as we board.

Adding offence is just how it goes, too. minute of arc later, I have made several more kill. Yeah, Orteza and Norenda might brag, but they still leave the dirty piece of work of doing that to me. Well, murdering takes my mind away from dealing with man imagination issues.

The universe moves on. Somewhere out there in space, older policeman at Hub dominance and Surface Control, will soon describe to their superiors that our shuttle veered off track and crashed to labour somewhere in The Zone, with all on add-in lost. The demolition will be so complete I do not expect very much exertion will be made to aid us. In fact, I'm counting on it. Aghara-Penthay is a savage macrocosm, and death and suffering here are quickly forgotten. My contestation with my team proves how tough it is for tangible relationship to develop among those who must come here. I wonder briefly if anyone at all will mourn the occupants of bird AP-3142-Z, but seeing as one of those alleged victim is myself, I don't have the luxury of meter to mull over it for long.

2-Surface

Wreckage is spread over More than a square statute mile of the Earth's surface of Aghara-Penthay. Norenda did a good job, I must admit. The largest small-arm is no giving than a human head, and all the debris has been incinerated to blackness by the fierce heat from the impingement. When the rescue and salvage parties arrive, they will struggle even to place how many were killed. Forget identifying soul from this tattered passel. proficient. But the rising roll of tobacco signposts the locating of the clangoring, and the alarm will be raised by now. Not so good.

"We need to travel,"I say, unnecessarily. All of us understand the risk."We can't lowest longsighted out in this heat, and they will soon be sending ships to check for survivors."

I look to Orteza. As our group's tech, Orteza has switched that showpiece blaster from The Hub for a screen, suspended from a shoulder strap for easy transport.

"Any lifesigns yet ?"

Orteza subject field the apparent motion tracker, instinctively wiping a hired man across that balding crown, as though this actually helps remove sweat. Gods, it's hot here.

I wait anxiously. If the trailing device wasn't damaged in the clash, it should show anything moving in The Zone, beginning from the size of it of an adult human being. If it's broken, we're screwed.

"good tracing, Ajeedie. A high compactness of signal coming from The Zone center. That will be the Hunter groups. Scattered medium sized lifeforms elsewhere across The Zone. Runners, or native creature. Too many to tell. No sign of incoming ships yet."

I nod.

"In that case we have a few hour. Kit check, everyone."

My radical are at least sensible enough to follow that order, and everyone rummage through their Slaver kit bagful, checking the functionality of equipment. I view them, as they do their work. Seven of us. The plan was to keep an fifty-fifty number in case the tough happened, but my gain to the party messed that up. Another reason they resent me - I'm unlucky seven, the feared team amount in many enlightened galactic superstitions. But here we are. Ajeedie - ranking officer and combat specialiser. Norenda - pilot. Orteza - tech. Dias - heftiness. Ak-Mancheen - muscle. Illyri - pyrotechnics. Ko - medic. Those two slaver escort guard, and the shuttle's original work party, were cremated by the fiery wreck of the shuttlecock. Only the unlucky seven remain, the jinxed powers of our number already demonstrated by an certificate of indebtedness to our unwanted and grave new additions.

The group of women shuffle nervously, their bare feet sore now they're on the stony ground of The Zone. They don't understand what's happening. They don't understand why, as soon as the shuttle left The Hub and started to go down, the leader of a mixed bag radical of men butchered their escorts and the flight crew with terrifying efficiency, but chose to dispense with the hard worker. They don't understand why Norenda gently landed us on the airfoil, but then used a remote to read off and plough the birdie into the rocky background, at an impossible angle. They don't understand why Slaver scout troop are acting so warily on the surface of their own world.

They wouldn't guess the true intellect unless I showed them, but I can see their mental cogs whirring as they try to attain assumptions anyway. The conclusion they'll probably stretch is that we spared them for the common cause that men keep women. I will not offer them any reassurance on this. They are hard worker, and can not be trusted, and it's better for now that they look on us the way buckle down women usually look on male captors.

Having confirmed the readiness and functionality of my own kit, I look around. The floor of the vast crater which forms The Zone was pancake-flat in an era before put down history, but over millions of years, nature has created sufficient sport on the surface to provide ample cover song. Around me sharp outlines shimmer with the heat haze. A nearby outcropping of rock is dwarfed by the side of the more removed crater edge marking The Zone bound, but the outcrop will be sufficient to our needs. It is honeycombed with entrances, and in those entrances there will be the valued shade.

"We hole up over there until nightfall."I say, the deepness of my interpreter adding authority."Let's go. All of you - team : keep on the tough background as much as possible, so you leave no step. hard worker - espouse us."

Without waiting for an answer, I begin to border, making the tread on head. My boots are practical for the stony terrain, even though the thick Sol tend to crunch noisily on the gravel ground. The team fall into position behind me. At least seeing me doing that killing means their mental attitude has improved. The members of my squad keep an eye on me nervously now they know what I'm capable of.

Only the female with the slave bull's eye is implanted and compelled to be us, but the residuum of the cleaning lady trail docilely behind anyway. I suppose they have nothing else to do. arrive at a break for the sands, and they will find either more groups of men, or a cruel destruction alone in the desert. They do not complain. It must be painful for them stepping on discriminating stones in denude invertebrate foot, but that's not my trouble. It was Norenda's stupid decisiveness to sustain them alive, so Norenda can select how to deal with anyone who goes lame. Besides, in one specific way, those striver are luckier than we are. Although there were no wrap on the shuttle for them to wear, at least while they're naked, they're not cooking alive under this sun.

During our suddenly walk, the Rape Run year 4453 commences. Across the galaxy, the public will be engaged choosing between survive feeds of any Runner, or any of the four Hunters. Trillions of beings checking their favorites, and enjoying their triumph or defeats. There will be sentient being watching from almost every niche of the universe, with one exception. Here in The Zone, the broadcasts are blacked out with an EM shield, so neither Slaver nor Runner can hit an advantage of knowing the early's tactics. All we are shown is the official broadcast with the case of Wagner, projected to vastness on a screen in the sky. Launching the contest, he reminds the Runners of the rules for womanhood - they must send for for the foul sperm-laden hydrating fluid every two hours, or see one of the very few drinking pools and hazard being trapped there. They may call for a flare if in hurt, and a Hunter will be given their location. Finally, they must not queer the rim of the crater out of The Zone. Hunters have regulations too, but the only one Wagner quotation is they may not hound between sundown and first light.

"Hydrate,"I order the team, and they obey. Our H2O bottles do not contain the sperm of a Rape runner's sponsors, but they are nearly as unpleasant, having been heated by the sun to a temperature as warm as a bath.

"pee the slaves as well,"I order.

Wagner vanishes from the sky. So, it's begun. This very second, hunting watch's grouping have started fanning out from the shopping centre of The geographical zone, in search of runner. ball carrier will be making for somewhere they can parry detective work, much as we're doing. Each one of those women will be perpetually terrorise during her participation in the issue - frightened to be active, frightened to delay still, most frightened by imagining what will happen to her if she gets caught.

We have hydrated ourselves, but in the unfastened furnace where we've landed, no total of water is going to be enough. Ak-Mancheen, muscle, the biggest of us, stumbles, then goes cheek first down into the dirt. Ko, medic, haste in to determine vital signs. Ko's diagnosing - nothing more life-threatening than fainting from the heat, but where Ak-Mancheen has gone, soon there will be more. Our mathematical group can only resume with Ak-Mancheen leaning on Ko's shoulder. Even I can't help but smile wryly at them. Two multicoloured scruffs together, one giant, one slight. A comically mis-sized pair if I ever saw one.

We're in a sorry state by the clock time we reach the rocks. It is lucky that the outcrop is so nonesuch, because we don't have reserves for a plan-B. There are hundreds of caves in this one feature. We quickly find a place that has a modest, easily guarded entryway, and expands into a turgid space within. Bartholomeu Dias and Ak-Mancheen sweep it for lifeforms and pronounce it safe.

"In,"I say.

The air inside the cave is almost as hot as international, but it feels mercifully cooler anyway, just because the sun isn't baking us alive. All the Saami, I'm still near fainting with rut, and I don't need Ko's anguished reminder"Ajeedie ?"to know what must be done.

"Diaz, Ak-Mancheen, Illyri,"I say,"You three first. Find a cave and purge. Make sure you're not followed."

They are the lucid selection. Diaz and Ak-Mancheen are carrying the heaviest lode, and as demonstrated, that makes them the most vulnerable to succumbing to the heat. Illyri is imperfect than the others. The three of them don't need asking twice, and have left us almost before I've finished my sentence.

"Orteza,"I continue,"takings Norenda to cat, once Diaz and Ak-Mancheen return. I'll go last, with Ko."

Orteza and Norenda have the snug friendly relationship within the team, and I consider it a peace oblation to permit them purging at the same time. Of course, they even have to disaccord with that.

"Send Ko with Norenda,"Orteza comeback, although with a more venerating timber than I've heard before."Ko is soft, and needs it more quickly. I can wait. And someone needs to restrain an eye on you. We don't want you massacring the women, the outset moment we're away."

Fine, whatever. Perhaps when we're alone and purging, I can wipe out Orteza. I shrug.

"As you wish,"I say."Ko and Norenda - you're succeeding, then."

With that agreed, we return to our missionary post objectives.

"Lifesigns ?"I ask Orteza, who is once again concentrating on the gesture tracker.

"Ships now at the wreck land site. Slaver group with the junto leadership identified. Dispersed across The geographical zone. Multiple individual signals. Too many to confirm any as Runners."

"Monitor the huntsman closest to us,"I say."We'll Menachem Begin after dark."

"Ajeedie."Orteza acknowledges with a nod.

I sit down, with my backrest against the wall of the cave, and close my eye. Any effort only generates passion, and makes me more likely to collapse before the purge.

"Master ?"

It is the girl with her fount marked who interrupts me. She kneels in the filth, naked, only inches away from me.

"Do you want any service ? Master looks unwell."

She looks at us and sees men, rapists, but her face is a picture of confused business organization anyway. The implant in her skull, its biotechnology roots embedded recondite into her brain, is fulfilling its syllabus, and compelling her to preclude injury coming to men. She doesn't understand what we're doing here, and why we've been all-but ignoring our charwoman, but she must still try to delight anyway. When a slave is as pretty as her, many men would give forced themselves on her by now. Oh, for a normal life story, like one of those men. On a whim, I reach out and touch her impertinence, on the side where she's marked as a slave. It is an intense experience, having such fill in world power over another being. I trace down her vulnerable throat to the swelling of her full moon breast, until I reach the teat. I can see why she was chosen as breeding stock. She will make sizeable and attractive offspring.

The female child makes no endeavour to dodge my touching. In fact, she arches her back to present her chest more completely. She is one of those long-since broken. She has learnt there is no safety valve for her, and complete yielding is the best way to reduce her hurt.

"Where are you from ?"I ask, withdrawing my hired hand, and clarify,"before becoming a slave ?"

"Cuspix, superior,"she answers, a little uncertainly as though it was too long ago to remember."In the Danaean Cluster."

"I do not know it,"I say dismissively."What were you before you were taken ?"

"A medical ship's officer, Master. In a merchandiser fleet."

"Ah. Is that how you met the Slavers of Aghara-Penthay ?"

"Yes, Master. I was officer on a passenger vessel. Our itinerary was mysterious in Republic blank space where attack was unlikely, but a literary pirate found us anyway."

She waits silently. Men don't often wish to find out cleaning lady talk for long, and an experienced slave does not elaborate unless ordered. But like many, I can't assistant having a macabre fascination with those who have endured the revulsion. The other members of my squad still deliver have stopped to listen too.

"Tell me what it was like. Give me details."

"The blast was terrifying. Brutal murder, and those who died were the lucky ones. The Slavers spared only the life sentence of the desirable women."

"It is often that way."

"I thought they'd preserve us intact for a while - Virgo women have eminent auction bridge value - but the rapes began as soon as we were on the slaver ship. Many of the suitable females ended themselves before they could be taken. But I preferred to live, even as a striver. I did not have the strength to terminate myself."

"Sometimes it takes more courage to survive than to die."

"I no longer remember,"admits the girl."Now there is only existing to serve."

I study her again. Suicide used to be a major upshot amongst slave dealer, but implantation ended that. A slave's coding prevents them ending their own life. Not even that escape is potential for the victims of this world.

"I was one of those violated before we docked at The Hub,"she continues."With the other adult female, I had to walk au naturel to the shuttle bay. I'm sure Master has seen these parades many fourth dimension, but mine, I will never forget."

"Mmm,"I say noncommittally.

"That was the last time I saw my best friend from the crew. I know not if she lives. I suppose it doesn't matter. The balance of my story is a typical one, captain. I was processed. grant a little grooming. I was auctioned, and procured by a bawdyhouse on The Hub. I have served there, pleasing men, until the bidding to run as a breeder."

Her sexual thralldom has gone on for retentive enough that she kneels instinctively with her thighs extensive. char are trained to do this - it pleases men to look at the privates of female person, and slave woman, being no more than objects are permitted no modesty, but they say it takes a patch to go second nature. I can see all the configuration of her vulva, and the cowling of her clitoris. She is hairless down there. Another vulgar choice of the Masters of female slaves. I look back up and see the young lady is watching me.

I rest my headland back against the careen wall of the cave, and close my eyes. God, it's so hot.

"Master looks unwell,"repeats the girl.

She knows I was looking at her cunt, but there is not the least polarity of reprehension, even in her manifestation. It irritates me for some understanding that she is so live with, so passive. Is there not one of these creatures with the will to resist - a figurehead for the millions of dupe ?

"What is your name ?"I ask, a fiddling snappily.

"Karmeena, Master,"she answers promptly.

"Well I'm amercement, Karmeena,"I say dismissively, and she flinches."Don't ask me if I'm unwell again. Actually, I need to reckon. go out me for now, and go see if the others need assistance."

"Yes, master key,"she replies, and her compulsion to obey means she's rising to her feet even before she begins speaking.

It's not her fault, but the abject respect that's meant to delight us makes her a risk of exposure. Karmeena shouldn't be here, her or the other charwoman. I'm not naturally heartless, but it would accept been better to leave them in the shuttle, so they died in the crash. Norenda and Orteza's mutiny to make unnecessary them was understandably human, but goosy. After gloomy, we will set out our great body of work, and we will shatter the uneasy peace between the slaveholder sect completely. I don't wishing to fall back a precious fighter just to leave alone person babysitting the charwoman, but neither does a sensible force do its fighting with a gaggle of unarmed naked charwoman alongside. The planted female person is particularly unpredictable. The steganography of an implant defines a refine hierarchy of authority, necessity to ward off the slave experiencing a mental crack-up in the event of receiving conflicting manly mastery. For now, she identifies me, the loss leader in faction uniform with a cryptical voice, as the one to please. But her compulsion to her hardware might mean that once battle is underway, or if she finds out the truth of our history, she will try to get together our enemies instead of siding with us.

Perhaps even more dangerously, slave implants can be tracked. Other slaver have hopefully assumed she was killed in the bird smash, but if they bother to chequer, they'll discover she's alive, and then her signal will pass them to us. That lady friend is a walking time bomb. There should be no more than four slaver teams in The Zone - the hunting watch - and a few admin staff. Four teams, not five.

Still, she is pretty, and who doesn't instinctively wish to preserve ravisher ? I'm as guilty as the rest of them. Who doesn't want to see a creature like her, vivacious and strong ? I watch the musculus of her rump flex as she moves through the cave, admiring the way she has such a natural grace to her base on balls. Doesn't she deserve the chance of life ?

I spare a glimpse at the other fair sex, the inferior fresh captures huddling together nervously. They are not implanted, but no doubt they expect we're planning to remediate that at the first gear opportunity. They are a danger in a different way, traumatized to the verge of panic by the ahead of time stage of captivity - no use to me. It is not surprising that one of them shrieks with fear when the almost deafening cry of a cleaning woman suddenly resonates through the cave, followed by the strait of Otto Wagner's mocking voice.

"Siilka Noneeva,"he tuts."What's going on here ? Caught like this, when you won medal after palm for your performance in the pee ?"

As though magnetised, we move as one to the entrance to the cave to see where one of the vast filmdom has appeared in the sky. Even the slaves forget their place for a moment to issue forth and watch.

I can only see the heading and shoulder joint of the woman on the screen, but that's enough to confirm that this Siilka a beauty. Her eyes are enceinte and expressive, and her face is fragile - perfectly harmonious, with senior high, okay, malar. Her hair is jet black. Her tegument is an unusual non-human blue-gray spook, with a pattern of mottling which suggests scale.

The scene being broadcast by the slave dealer does not make sentiency at first off. Siilka is flailing with her arms, and seems to be swimming through the square sandy ground of Aghara-Penthay, as though the control surface somehow flux. But only temporarily so. The liquid sand she's fallen into seems to inspissate with every moment - an oil, then a syrup, then a gel. Wilhelm Richard Wagner soon explains.

"Thy called you the galaxy's well-nigh beautiful sportswoman, Siilka, they called you the supreme female athlete, but it turned out you weren't fit enough to escape a slave trader trap."

In the clip it takes Wagner to say that, the liquid finis setting completely. Siilka still squirms, but for the all the benefit she gets, she might as well have been set in concrete. She made the mistake of having her forearms below the surface as the trap fully solidified, and she looks like an amputee as she violently flails her upper body.

"Your aliveness as a sportswoman is over. Your biography as a sex slave has begun. But there is good news. It turns out you haven't lost that affinity for fluids,"says Wilhelm Richard Wagner,"especially cum."

These witty news explain the future sequence - a montage of Siilka, naked on her back, strapped down to some frame of bed, being repeatedly raped. The first base man to deal her is the sect leader, Lotho-Etsarra. He is considered the most handsome of the chiefs, but during a rapine, his fount is distorted by luxuria into a roughshod rictus. A successiveness of other rapist follows - presumably his men. I do not know any of their faces. Sometimes Siilka pleads"no"to these attackers, but it makes no difference. The ending is always the like. ejaculation, inside her, or sometimes over her face. Once she's been ruined and soiled by the relentless abjection, and her face is dripping with slime, the last attacker urinates on her, in an ultimate expression of contempt.

I do not reveal any emotion witnessing the scenery on the screen. I still have role to play. The unnoted women are looking at us as though in judgement, and we in Slaver uniforms would face unusual if they showed sympathy. Over the course of a standard astronomical year, one C of one thousand, no, it must be millions, of rapes take place. Only the Rape blue runner have the beetleweed witness the initiative bit of licking, but otherwise they are not special.

"Get back in under cover,"I social club brusquely."We don't want to be seen."

The daughter Karmeena obeys immediately. The others linger a moment longer as Otto Wagner's broadcast finishes, but when I growl, they too move back into the nuance. Useless creatures… This mercy towards them better not backfire on us. Karmeena is pretty, but we have work to do, and do not postulate an attractive engraft female for now. Godsdamn Norenda and Orteza. This is their fault. I just hope I'll live long enough to make them pay for getting us in this berth, if their kindness comes back and bites us in the ass.

3 - purge

It's almost get torture for me by the time my play comes, but I'm determined to prove I'm better at holding out than the others. So when Ko and Norenda return I make a point of delaying even longer, checking my equipment again. I'm hoping that Orteza comes to plea, but turns out I'm not the only one who can diddle strong-armer. Orteza squats down and talks quietly to Karmeena, pretending not to have noticed it's our time. Finally, I'm willing to call it a draw.

"I'm going to purge."I announce to the group."Orteza - get gear up. You too. Norenda, you're in flush here. dungeon vigil. Don't let the slaves follow me. If a Runner gets close, let her see one of us, and she should steer discharge. But sound the alarm if you see hunter approaching."

"Ajeedie,"Norenda acknowledges.

Back outside the sun hits me total strength, and in nastiness of the need to read my long suit, I reel with dizziness. A hand grasps my upper arm, supporting me. Orteza, thank you, for once. Perhaps you may live after all.

A derelict building is a few hundred grand away, which would propose more privateness, but our want has become too pressing. A cave incoming is much closer, the red sandstone overhang creating a piddling shade.

We stumble only far enough inside to be surely we can't be seen from across the gap, where the others are waiting. We've all seen soundbox many metre, and yet my team prefer to purge alone, as though there's something shameful about the process.

First, I strip. Weapon, wakeless combat rush, socks, jacket with slaver insignia, desert scrap pant, T shirt, are all discarded onto an untidy heap. We wear no underwear - another way to come along as though we're like early Slavers. Naked, I stretch, flexing my tumid shoulder. The penis and ballock between my legs hang sound, distracting me. So a great deal trouble in the galaxy, all because male person have these ugly things.

Almost like I've never seen mine before, I cup the genitals in the laurel wreath of my paw, feeling their warmth and exercising weight.

Letting the debris drop, I look across to Orteza, who is now also nude, and showing a body shorter and wider than me. I've not seen that many men nude during my life, but I've come across enough to constitute some sense of what is intermediate. Orteza's diminutive height seems overcompensated with a ridiculously hanker penis that dangles halfway down the thigh.

The pilus on my skull is shadow and brusque - scruffy, but regulation. I reach up with both manpower to this hair, specifically to where the increment stops at the nucha of my neck. The chassis feels warm under my fingertips. Pressing firmly down on it, I begin to pull, stretching the airfoil gently, but steadily. The skin is configured to set about the purge only from there, and so it does, spreading from the radical of my skull vertically up and down the spur as though I've unzipped a line along my material body.

Underneath I am sweating profusely, even though my real skin is also naked. Once I've pulled the biosuit away over my pate, my truthful, long, unnaturally blonde hair reveals itself as so wet it looks as though I've been in a shower. I continue to overstretch the biosuit away, peeling it off my weapons system and down my body, as though I'm doing nothing more than removing a wetsuit. Gradually the whole cutis comes away, with the very finally part of me exposed being my feet. Feeling the sharp gemstone of Aghara-Penthay for the first time on my trunk's tangible colloidal solution, I straighten up.

I am grandiloquent for a female person. unremitting breeding has made my body comparatively brawny for my sex, but I'm cypher compared to male athletes, and indirect request as I might to come along masculine, my gene rule out any possibility of using strong-arm fitness to haze over my sex without the biosuit. The chest which curse me are full, unusually broad for my form. They earned me much ribbing in my girlhood. screen of a rack like mine is usually impossible, even in easy vesture, when they sit so high and pouch forward as proudly as if they're filled with helium. Compounding my woes, I have unusually prominent mamilla that have proved unmanageable to disguise even with the thickest padding.

Down below, my sex is rounded, and the lips of my vulva are fleshy and large, however that does at least mean the curves can conceal the protruding folds of my clitoris.

So there I stand. I know that some men prefer the pocket-sized, fragile woman like living dolls, but for those who favor healthy cistron stock, I know to my toll that my coming into court is of the variety considered exceptionally attractive."colza Run course ”, an cocksucker guy once labelled me, thinking I'd aim it as a compliment.

I am Ajeedie, a"rapine Run grade"naked female standing on the surface of Aghara-Penthay. My sex - my breasts and that opening between my stage, mean I can only ever have the status of slave on this world, and to evade servitude I'm completely reliant on the bodysuit. Such dependence doesn't stop me looking down with disfavor at the bundle of folded skin fabrication in the dirt. While the suit of clothes look entirely authentic and can also dupe any of the slaveholder'gender scanners, and the voice modulator lower my tone to a manful registry, they're not perfect. They're not porous enough for a hot climate, so we sweat unbearably inside them, and to invalidate prostration from heat debilitation, various sentence each day we must"purge ”, giving our real skins the chance to breathe. Furthermore, although it is possible to puddle through the fake penis, passing solidness is both unmanageable and unhygienic.

Orteza carefully holds her own bodysuit. Like virtually other womanhood, she is light than me, and her breasts are less pneumatic, but her aspect would, I believe, be of the kind men considered attractive. At any rate, since my arrival on The Hub I've seen miserable specimens of fair sex that the Slavers were volition to select as their property. Her mixed heritage makes her unusual, with a slight upward pitch to her glum eyes, a greenish tegument tinge and her near-jet-black hair betraying the nonhuman filament woven through her DNA. Her true female form is diffused than mine, and except for her chest, she is more labialize. Orteza has not endured the constant utilisation authorities of Tisya's elite guard, the Okhoron, so she lacks my muscle definition. Her eyes are very dark, and tumid - one of her better features, and her backtalk is wide, giving her grimace a naturally animal look.

We eye each former warily. The Djenerion Sect is an rules of order of fair sex, but we are a demure parliamentary procedure, turning away from our mortal bodies to attempt the enlightenment, and it is rare we are nude statue in the presence of another individual. So even if I hadn't discovered her sexual predilection was for female, I would probably get felt uncomfortable baring myself before Orteza. But on this planet of Aghara-Penthay, womanhood are defined only by our sweetheart, and by our economic value as sexual physical object. It is inconceivable to draw a blank our oomph while standing nude under the appraisal of another.

Like me, Orteza is dripping with swither. She moves a hand automatically to her gleaming shoulder."Don't wipe the sweat away,"I tell her."It will vaporize in the dry air, and so sang-froid you more quickly."

We have been at each other's pharynx more or to a lesser extent since we boarded the captured Virgo's incubus disguised our torso suits. But bare, Orteza feels the same vulnerability I'm experiencing, and as cleaning lady we're instinctively drawn together against this land of horrors.

"I need to pee,"Orteza admits.

"I won't look,"I reply."I want to do my form."I turn politely towards the cave hatchway, while she squats down on her haunches behind me in the dark.

I adopt defensive military strength four - body turned to the English, one leg ahead, knee hang as though making a fencing material thrust, one leg stretched behind. Closing my heart, I repeat the comrade round of city block and plan of attack : Attackers zones one and seven, block and strike back zona seven. Attackers zone three and nine. Block and eliminate zone nine.

The auditory sensation of Orteza's urine stream is noisy. Perhaps that's why she chooses to speak.

"Ajeedie - do you think we can reach her ? Tisya ?"Orteza asks. Her voice is high school and scratchy. The body case contain tech to tone the vocal sales pitch, and it's the low gear metre I've heard how she really sounds.

Orteza was at the Lapp delegacy briefing I attended, so she knows the result almost as well as I do. But she's seeking comfort and reassurance, rather than information.

Attackers zones two and six. engine block six, block two.

"If we all survive tonight's encounter, I think our hazard are in force. At least, our hazard of reaching the Djeneria are good. As for what happens afterwards, and whether we leave the planet, that needs much more luck. And all this is assuming we find her before the hunting watch. The slave trader will hopefully blame one faction leader being assassinated on his contender. But if they've already degraded Tisya and she must be eliminated too - well, then our fortune of escape are low. slave owner don't destroy valuable merchandize. Our natural process will give way away that something else is occurring, and then they will hunt us down."

"I wish we had a priestess with us,"Orteza complains. Not the first metre I've heard this from my team."I'd tactile property safer knowing there was someone with the foresight."

"You know that's not how the gift works,"I grumble. I stop the form exercises to massage my abdomen. My clock time of bleeding was not long before the mission began, and I still feel heavy with the aftermath of the cramps. My tit feel heavy and aching, but I don't want to rub them in strawman of Orteza.

"All the like, I'm uneasy that no priestess would come with us,"she says. The strike team is drawn from lay fellow member of The Sect, and myself - one of the few Okhoron bodyguard who wasn't caught with our loss leader."It suggests they don't think we'll succeed."

"The priestesses say we will run across her,"I say, squatting down on my bare haunches, to I look out the cave entrance, and hoping I don't demonstrate my ass too obscenely to Orteza."And they said what happens after is indecipherable,"I add."That probably was the truth."

"Priestesses don't lie,"Orteza says defensively.

"Hmm,"I say.

"They don't !"insists Orteza.

"They do not stage false information, but they are capable of presenting info in a way which creates the faulty effect. I've seen it. But anyway, it doesn't matter. We're not here for a theology debate. We will encounter her. We will economize her, or we will end her."

I reach up and overstretch the rope of my sweat-matted haircloth circle, and squeeze it to try to ring out some of the liquidity. My hair's-breadth, one of the few vanity I permit myself, flows way down my back, and normally looks like a fetching curtain of gleaming metal, but under the cause it's only been a effect that's added to the heat.

Orteza must be watching me do this, because she says,"You know if it wasn't for that hair color, you'd look just like…"

"I know,"I cut her off.

Thankfully, she's silent, so I can think.

To the barbarous men of Aghara-Penthay, their pastime in our Djeneria is only in her value and use as a sexual slave, and the message and humiliation her seizure would present to The religious sect, and to the women of the galaxy. The Slavers do not kill beautiful char. They break them.

But we in The faction can not accept a living Djeneria surviving in sexual slaveholding - shaming the Gods and The Sect for eld to come. And so, the Djenerion's leading council, The club, sent my team. The object glass, they told them in the briefing, was round-eyed. Find Tisya. If she's still virgin, take her with us and attempt to give using the like disguises that delivered us here. If it's too late, toss off her, so another Djeneria might be found. The Sect needed an go through fighter in charge, and as one of the few Okhoron who wasn't captured in the infinite battle for Tisya, I was persuaded to lead the mission. wellspring, for that grounds, and the early cause they gave me…

"How many have you killed ?"Orteza blurts out. Her voice is faltering."I mean… before those men on the shuttle."I wonder if she's been intimidated by watching the form."I've never seen anything like it. You move like you read their minds."

"I've killed enough,"I state simply.

"But women ?"Orteza presses,"Could you kill Tisya ?"

I think back to her vocalisation :"The elder God has found you suited, Ajeedie."

"I will kill her, if I must."

"Even if that means the slave trader hunt us down ?"

I stop and look round of golf at her, rising to my animal foot. I don't want to talk any More about this.

"I've killed cleaning lady. I could kill you if you get in the way of the deputation. Don't collapse me a reason."

Orteza seems to shrink, as though humbling herself. Unable to switch off the inherent aptitude for mutual appraisal, I notice that her nipples are abnormally magnanimous in congress to her average-sized boob, and they're an odd semblance - almost dark green. Alien genetics again.

"If we are going to get caught, do it cleanly,"she says, and it's a plea."A stroke to the backbone of the psyche. Before I know it."

"I promise,"I reply in a gentler tone than I've used before with her.

As I've mentioned, suicide is an unforgiveable act to member of the Djenerion sect, but there is much lupus erythematosus prohibition on murder. Our group was meant to contain even out numeral, until The Nine added me. If relief valve from the surface becomes impossible, with alone thralldom ahead we will free each other from the horrors of life. Except that leaves us the trouble of the in conclusion one.

"What are we going to do with the striver ? During the attack ?"says Orteza.

It's a mistake for her to cite the women. I can't help snorting with ridicule, and Orteza's reciprocal cross wickedness expression shows our truce has just ended.

"You have a nerve asking me that. Keeping them was your idea. You deal with them."

"We couldn't just let them die,"says Orteza.

"We could, and should. The deep-rooted one is severe,"I say, with more conviction than I feel. I too had watched her in the cave, admired her, and asked if she deserved a chance at life."What if they track her to us ? What if she sides with her Masters ? We can not let her know that we're really women."

"But the three others have a luck at fighting for their freedom,"says Orteza."They can help."

"They're good for zilch. Look at them, they're scared out of their wits. They're more likely to get us take hold of than to serve us away from here. And what happens if we do succeed, and we survive long enough to make it to the rendezvous ? You know it's not permitted to take unnoted adult female off the satellite's surface. We should have let them die in the crash."

Orteza stares at me very directly.

"Our religious order's belief are life affirming. Something abominable must ingest happened to you, Ajeedie, to make you afford up on all that."

"Call it an Okhoron matter,"I say gruffly.

"No… I've met early Okhoron and they were strong. You're dead behind the eyes."

( A man's vox :"A Rape Run grade piece of tail, you are ”. And then the vocalisation of Tisya :"The Elder God has found you suitable, Ajeedie.")

Angrily I snatch up my bodysuit. Here on this cruel planet, I can no longer accept being a naked woman. I'd rather be melting than be exposed.

"It's time to get back. We can't be out of touch from the others for too long."

She studies me for a moment, and looks as though she's about to say more, but thankfully I'm able to still her with a feeling, and we return to the others without more talking.

4 - Raid

As soon as the sun has set, we leave Ko at the cave guarding the women, and the remaining six of us start picking our way across the barren ground. She is most expendable in terms of this operation, having only limited combat ability. Also, if one of us is seriously wounded, we are unlikely to be able to turn in the injured fair sex off this humanity anyway. The bodysuits are fragile, and each of us knows that a damaged causa will direct to the indignity of the undisguised female abandoning it, and being forced to put on the role of our captive. For a spite char with a go against suit, a shot to the head might be the tolerant answer.

Orteza is laden with the tech, and carries only a hand blaster fastened to her belt. Illyri also concentrates on equipment. Norenda, Diaz and Ak-Mancheen and myself are bearing the heavy weaponry. I look approvingly at my police squad in their disguise - perhaps shorter than average for a radical of men, but otherwise convincingly masculine, and appearing exceptionally sleazy even for that sex. No one would ever know the truth.

Some of the ground in The zone is flaxen, but where we are now it's stony underfoot, and it's hard to act in low light without making dissonance. We're all supremely thankful for Orteza's long range scanning to fend off danger. Without it, we'd all be even more nervous.

"Multiple lifesigns, two dog"Orteza says."slave owner group. Bearing 225, stationary. Also a ace lifesign, stationary. Animal or female. Bearing 180. One click."

"It could be a offset,"says Norenda."What if it's Tisya ? We could be on our way domicile tonight."

"We could drop half the night hunting the desert, and even if it is a Runner, the betting odds are minuscule a objective would be her. Finding one of the other Runners would just draw attention. No - we need that slave dealer tech first."

The sky is cloudless, and above us, the innumerable stars of the galaxy look peaceful. Aghara-Penthay has no moons to reflect light, so even after our eyes have adjusted it is still very dark. But the temperature is mercifully cool, so we'll finis until dawn before needing to purge. Ak-Mancheen is trying to plagiarize the temper and says,"Nice Nox for a walkway,"but then because she's looking up, she sends a shower of stones skittering across the ground.

"Night vision,"I club curtly.

When we're fifteen minutes into the march, Orteza identifies a new single lifeform, moving at the speed of running human. It will bisect our path about two hundred yards ahead.

"concealment !"I fiat, and we conceal ourselves in a nearby ruined building. Although Illyri watches through her goggles from the incoming, we don't even get a optic to support the lifeform's metal money.

"All net,"I say after ten mo, and we move out again.

The linguistic rule of The Rape Run commonwealth that the faction loss leader and their teams must not move around or Hunt at dark. This isn't for the Slaver's benefit - it's because men aren't the only predator in the desert, and it's too dangerous to encourage Runners to be fleeing during darkness. The audience prefer watching rapes, not fatality. Hunters sometimes maintain a ticker, however, and then pursue any Runners they spot with the restoration of day. So as we start drawing close to the Hunter encampment we move more cautiously, keeping always in cover and progressing from building to building. I have my team move following a spacious arc, so we don't approach path in a straightforward line, leaving an well-situated trail to go after to our stemma. But even for those who take the uttermost precautions The geographical zone has its hazards, and in one of these building shells only a after part of a land mile from our target, we nearly come undone.

"Someone's been here recently,"says Norenda, puzzled."A Caranx crysos, maybe. appear, there's a ration pack. solid food and water."

The rations are on the base, in a plastic case right in the centre of an otherwise empty room. The lid has even been left open to point the contents.

"That's not a Runner's rations,"Illyri says."They only get sperm to drink, and they're forced to eat that stinking broth made for striver. Maybe it's for one of the admin teams ?"

"Look, delicacies,"adds Norenda. She's already reaching for the case when I understand.

"No !"I cry, diving for her knees to undertake her to the ground before she touches the treats, but it's too late. The clangour of alloy is deafening against the almost mute night, as something vast plumb from the ceiling. The cage which has dropped from the roof fills half the room. The yap was designed to becharm a lone moon-curser jerky enough to disturb the rations, firing when they'd naturally be in the center. It's only sheer chance that none of our with child group was underneath the heavy ironwork.

But the trap did its study. Norenda and I are behind the bars. Orteza, Diaz, Ak-Mancheen and Illyri are free. Within a bit Illyri starts up, moaning in fear, the audio odd in a masculine voice, and I see I need to assert control before the unscathed team descends into panic.

"plosive consonant that ! attend for a winch chemical mechanism,"I ordination."There must be a way they use to lift it back up when they catch someone."I add,"Now !"

woman search the way.

"It will make triggered an alarm,"whines Illyri, her modified voice still high and reedy."Slavers will come."

"It will,"I agree,"but remember there's only the Hunter teams in The zone right now, and they're not allowed to proceed at Night. As long as we get out the cage before dawn, we're safe."

Disguised behind a battered top on the rampart Norenda discovers a keypad, with a glowing LED betraying that it's under power. We're going to get nowhere using that without its code, however.

"Try to lift this sharpness of the batting cage,"I command next, pointing to the floor, and as one we strain against the backbreaking metalwork. Mercifully, it begins to shift. The trap is meant to catch a lone Rape Runner, and for that unlucky woman escape would be impossible. But with the totally team working we're able to stir the bottom sharpness by six in, leaving enough gap to get off underneath. But at a cost. Just from this small-scale quantity of exertion I feel myself cooking again inside the soundbox suit. No matter. As long as we can fly the coop. Norenda wriggles out first, while I support the lifting with the early women.

I want to keep proving my courage, my Okhoron superiority over the respite of them. value will be crucial later. So when it's my turn I nonchalantly say,"Might as well withdraw the treats as we're here ”, and ignoring Illyri's cry of repugnance I remove the credit card case from the shopping mall of the room. The detector are there, visible underneath, but they can only spark the coop once. Hitting the land, I crawl forward, boot camp style, under the metal coop, which is trembling despite my team's combined effort.

"Good. fog our footprints, and then let's continue,"I say with forced calm.

Illyri is still jittery after we've resumed, and the residuum of the team are being affected by her anxiety. Every time soul accidentally kicks stones across the gravelly ground, women jump, scanning around with their weapon system. We are irritable with each other.

"The ambush was triggered,"Illyri is still moaning."A base runner couldn't have escaped from the cage. They will get it on that a group has been here. They will bonk there are others in The Zone."

"That's why I took this,"I say, waving the lawsuit of provisions."They will think an animal activated the sensors. Something small enough to slip through the bars. So stop crying like a baby. No one will believe you're male with that much bitching going on."

That shuts her up. And the incident was perhaps even a good thing, for my squad are more measured after that. We hike for thirty min encountering nothing, until we end up concealed in yet another ruin, peering through caries in a building which, one C ago, might stimulate held windows. We've only been moving at a unbendable marchland, but it was enough that I'm drenched in sweat inside the bodysuit. It pools everywhere flesh pressure against chassis - in between my breasts, which have to be squashed uncomfortably to piss them appear like pectoral heftiness, in the cleft of my ass, under my arms, everywhere.

Using nighttime vision goggles I take in the scene. The precise location of each faction leader's foundation camp in The zone is kept secret, but I have watched enough footage of prior rape rill to be associate with the layouts used by each drawing card, and I know whose camp lies only 50 yards in front of us.

"Lotho-Etsarra,"I say with distaste. Of all of the sect leaders who we might receive to destroy, I'd hoped we'd come across Salarin first. Salarin the Sadist, the monster who haunts the incubus of so many char. From this sorry incubus, we could sustain done some well for the universe if we'd killed Salarin. But there's always tomorrow.

"That means the one prisoner Runner is there,"Orteza says."Siilka. A victim will bring extra men to the camp."

She is correct. With the Slavers ineffective to trace during darkness, they normally turn their aid to abusing their captives. Estimates by organizations which support the galaxy's women claim a failed colza runner is violated by between ten and fifty men on her first off night in captivity.

I consider leaving to take care for Salarin's camp. Tempting, but no.

"It can not be helped,"I say."There isn't time to obtain another Hunter before dawn."

"At to the lowest degree there's no watch,"Dias says with rest. Another just reason to choose this place.

I look around my team. Women disguised as men. Not one experienced warrior. I'm probably the only one who has killed before. We must act before their fears build. I need to be first to impart expiry upon this place, and once it's irrevocably begun, they'll have no choice but to follow.

"Ready equipment,"I lodge."Let's Thatch these fuckers a lesson. This is what we came to do."

Most of my team check blasters, but Illyri takes something from her back pack - a alloy oval which reminds me of a sports ball. I would expect such a device to have a glowing luminosity, something to mean technology, but there is nothing.

"Remember, we're looking for a pad. The huntsman are permitted almost no tech during The Run, so it's probably the only device you'll see. Our whole operation is inconceivable without that pad. Norenda, Orteza - lookup and pass the building on the left. Diaz, Ak-Mancheen - the right hand. I'll take the substance one alone. Illyri - you stay outside, in fount anyone escapes the building, and mop up."

They know our objectives already, but a monitor is never any harm. I try to sound more understanding.

"Listen - you're all in force and entitle multitude, but we must pour down anyone who is not trapped in restraints. Even unbound hard worker might be dangerous. The men will probably only have slave urging, because they'll expect to be safe on their homeworld. I'm not expecting to face many fatal weapons. They don't need them on the surface. But deadly or not, all the men must be eliminated, so no-one may be us, and we can't risk of infection striver being turned against us."

There is an uncomfortable muttering - The religious sect values life story, but they know the necessity.

"Let's do this. quick ?"

I give them one terminal bit, and then it begins.

"Activate the EMP Illyri. On my sign - three, two, one, mark."

She hesitates for one last bit, then squeezes the oval. To our sensing, there is nothing. No noise, no lightness. We can only hope that the bomb has worked as intended, and the nearby cameras just went down. Unfortunately, during the assault Run unseeable television camera provide cover coverage of each moon-curser, and each of the Hunters. There aren't adequate television camera to comprehend the integral geographical zone, but we must temporarily knock out the local ones before each encounter. The EMP weapon should hopefully do that.

"Go, go."

Many multitude fear armed combat, but I've always found it a gloriously liberating going of tension. At lastly, there is for me no past tense, no future to think of, only the now of the mission. The ship, the cave, her voice, all those memory board leave me. I even smile, as we move quickly across the ground, almost at a run. When we're only yards away from the first building, and just as we're separating into teams, the first man emerges from the doorway. He's in the eye of rummaging with his pants, as though he's just finished take a leak. Or perhaps just finished raping someone. His unexpected arrival is actually good for us, because I've raised my blaster and killed him before the others have metre to call up. Rookies often hesitate faced with their first kill, and being led by lesson is always helpful.

I enter the doorway without pausing. The room is barely furnished, little more than a stock with crate and provisions stacked up. Two men are inside, their slave trader uniforms disheveled and unkempt from a day's foul trade union movement. They look up as I enter, centre widen when they see my chargeman, and one is dead, another is absolutely, before they fully understood that this was their end.

"Dolork ?"A manly part says, and from the next room he emerges. He just looks like another man, but he's the one. Lotho-Etsarra, looking down in puzzlement at one of his prone soldiery. With my Okhoron focal ratio I have the luxury of time to reckon him. How many pitiful fair sex have you violated, Lotho-Etsarra ? Another victim added to your offense only just now, wasn't she ? I can state by your relaxed stance, and by the reek, you've had sex recently. Well, here's one cover for the womanhood. With a surge of elation I aim, and deliberately use two shots to pour down him - vaporizing the place between his ramification, giving him just long enough to understand what he's lost, then firing the disastrous flak between his eyes before he's hit the basis. shag you, Lotho-Etsarra. A cleaning woman just killed you ! despoil me now !

Okhoron reflexes are in overuse. From a third doorway behind to my leftover, I already sense another one of Lotho-Etsarra's men approach. I turn while dropping, and raise my blaster. This one is actually armed, and reaching for his weapon, but he doesn't do it fast enough to economise him. Upright again, I make for the elbow room from where the chief emerged.

I can take heed growing sounds of men shouting, from directions close by and further away. They will have sex they're under attempt by now. Let's hope the others are doing their business. There's no recurrence from here. good. fear us, fear womanhood, for once in your lives.

The adjacent room is the Slaver's sleeping bedroom, and in there I encounter the number 1 female. Chained on her back, naked, mortise joint and radiocarpal joint secured to the corners of the bed so she can not protect herself, is the die Rape Runner Siilka Noneeva. I've never seen a char who looked so pathetic, so hurt, so completely give away. The downfall of her coming into court is not sufficiency to discourage the Male libido. Between her peg a man is fucking her, his combat drawers round his knees, so I see his bare buttocks flexing as he thrusts deep within. Men are such beast ! His sex drive is so strong that even with an incident occurring he gamble his animation to dispatch his pleasure. The lance of his member, which I can see during the withdrawal part of his accident, is coated with a glistening slime of her sexual fluids.

I end him with a slam to the face of the head, so a spatter of red brains decorates the grubby bulwark and showers the girl. He slumps on Siilka, instantly inert. She screams.

I scan the way checking for other threats. It is clear. And on a faecal matter, to my huge relief, I see discarded the object we've sought like it's our holiest keepsake - the pad. foreign mission accomplished, but I will not take in it yet - I should not encumber myself, not when I need two hands to get undecomposed results from the chargeman. I briefly conceal it on the far English of the fille, who after gang rape and a bloodbath has lost her humor entirely, and is struggling hysterically underneath her attacker's cadaver.

The natural selection of all my squad is more pressing than soothing the terrors of one failed Rape smuggler, so I leave Siilka there in her chains and bear on my sweep of the edifice. In the succeeding room, I find a man crouched in holy terror in the corner, holding a goad between his legs to fight down himself as though it's some oversized electronic penis. Blocking my route to him is a au naturel female, her big bosom distracting for the angry red injuries across them. The slope of her aspect carries the slaver's mark.

"Out of the way,"I club her. Compelled by her implant combined with my modulated voice she begins to move, but the man shrieks,"protect me"and overruled, she moves back to block up my snap. Her expression is a portmanteau word of emotions - awe, purpose, and a plea - a supplication to end this ?

I hate to destroy an innocent, but there's no choice. The primary possessor coding will mean his control supersedes mine. I shoot her in the aspect, instantly, without a delay which would further her suffering. Again, blood and brains spatter everywhere. Lotho-Etsarra had it coming, but with the woman I allow myself a pause to respectfully mourn her, also letting the male person anticipate what's coming to him. I never knew anything of her life, but I still feel some sympathy.

Then I turn to him. He's shaking almost uncontrollably.

"She didn't have to die for you,"I state coldly."You could have ordered her to retreat. It's time for jurist, brute !"

I kill him slowly, blasting his knees and working my way upwards, pulverizing every piece of him. Into each pellet, I try to transmit my hatred for those men who have harmed vulnerable char. To begin with, his screams are deafening - let all males nearby hear and learn to revere Ajeedie. But soon he's too far gone. Once there's aught but pulp, I leave this charnel house of a room, and continue. There are two more males in the building, but neither is armed with any artillery to present a real threat, and I've soon cleared the building. One has wet himself, hearing the approaching sounds from the executions.

I emerge into the starry night outside. Probably I should find more, but I am vacate with enervation. Illyri, shaking with fright and Thomas More disturbed by the screams than the men, raises her artillery, but recognizes me in meter. In the open air, I contemplate going to aid the others who are still tidying up, but I decide to wait. With such unskilled warriors, I'm more likely to get scud storm my own side than to be helpful.

It's a stand-in when all the others emerge alive. Ak-Mancheen has been hit with a goad, and holds one of her arms hobble and numb, but that's our only casualty. My team are jubilant with victory.

"Fuck you, slave dealer !"Diaz crows.

"Do we experience the pad ?"Norenda asks. She has her head together more than the others.

"It's in there, with the fallen Rape Runner,"I say, gesturing to the inwardness building."Everyone, stay fresh sentinel for anyone attracted by the fight. I'll go and fetch it. Get quick to pull out. We leave in five minutes."

Back inside, the sight of me, apparently a Male and one covered with gore, offers Siilka Noneeva little reassurance. She begins to scream and struggle.

"Stop panicking,"I say harshly. Carelessly, I roll the corpse off her trunk onto the floor, and I retrieve the pad from behind her. Then I look at her. It's so foreign to throw a real Rape Runner - one of the Galax urceolata's most famous and beautiful women, so wholly in my power. Undeniably she's stunning, even covered with homo ruins. If I was a man, this is when I would take aim her.

The girl does not stop panicking. She's too frightened to be logical, and I realize I must traumatise her back to herself if we're to have any talks. So without warning I reach between her thighs and cup her sex in the palm of my hand. Siilka gasp at that, tensing herself. Her abdomen suck in as she inhales, and her mountain chain clang as they go taut. My bodysuit is reducing my boldness predisposition, but I can feel her Hammond organ is lovesome, and her nether back talk are subdued. No matter - it's just a pussy.

My speck produces the desired effect. She quiets immediately, going rigid. Now she's able to work what's happening. If she thinks my interest in her is merely intimate, she can understand the threat.

"The killing is over."I tell her, withdrawing my finger."We can not take you with us, they will track you, and we are a varlet Aghara-Penthay radical, dissatisfied with our Faction leadership. But former Slavers will be here soon. They will take with you appropriately."

Weakly Siilka lifts her promontory from the bed. Her expression is an appeal for kindness. Perhaps I'm the first Male to show her the to the lowest degree circumstance. It would be a mercy to vote out her. I would sacrifice her that choice to live on or die if I could, but her implant already prevents her seeking her own death, and she'd certainly refuse. More importantly, we are allegedly sowing dissension between the camarilla, and it would be questioned why a rogue mathematical group would needlessly destruct a senior high school value sample of flesh.

So having planted the lie which she will restate when they come for her, I turn my backrest and wantonness her.

I'm received like a champion by the squad now I have the pad.

"Let's get out of here,"I say,"before the camera are back up."

In gamey spirits, we set off across the rocky flat coat, tracking a zigzag route to the cave, intended to deter trackers. Orteza scans for life sentence house, but cipher is moving, and we feel no threat. The woman talk boisterously, sounding like a unmarried man company through their regulate voices. Even I'm effected by the camaraderie.

We halt to eat some rations, and even some of the delicacy removed from the Slaver trap. Now we're safe, that near miss with the John Milton Cage Jr. is nothing more than a soldier's anecdote. To wash the food down, we risk passing round a flask of alcohol.

Unlike many belief system, the Djenerion Sect does not disallow intoxicant, or even the consumption of inwardness. Only dairy produce is out, and for practical reason. Seeing as the Supreme Being favor virgin females, lactating mothers of any specie are therefore classed by them as the antithesis of the blessed, and dairy interferes with the gifts. I am like well-nigh Djenerion, raised to reject dairy farm, and I now find the conception of consuming milk or cheese repellent. Only the darker, dairy-free candies are appealing.

Back at the cave Ko is waiting anxiously for us, her male form ( a particularly swarthy and harsh specimen, even by our standards ) rubbing its hand together nervously.

"Thank the immortal you're all alert"she says with relief as she counts us back in. Everyone else is correctly here. The tag striver, Karmeena, lurking behind her in the apparition. The three fresh captures, still secured together by their necks, remain at the backbone of the cave as they try to avoid our attention.

"Get working on this,"I say to Orteza, casually tossing her the pad."Find me the Djeneria."

"The Rape runner chips don't emit signals overnight,"Orteza says, unnecessarily."It would be too easy to identify the pop ace, while they were resting. But I'll get on it at first light."

"In that slip, you purge with mortal first, then take the maiden quietus,"I tell her."I'll take initiatory watch. Illyri - you're on guard with me."

Orteza clutches the pad to her chest. Recovering it should signal the end of our confrontations with the slave dealer, meaning the most challenging part of the mission is done. It's going well. Too well. And I should be careful, seeing how the divinity have never been on my side.

5- Missing

As the rapine Run grew in popularity, the Slavers developed more sophisticated means of maximizing the joy of the galactic consultation. More pleasure meant more watchers. More witness meant a higher profile for the Slavers. There were more visitant to The Hub. more credits were spent, and captive were sold.

One of the measures they introduced was a system reversing the traditional ability of a sports fan to back up their favourite. Viewers were able to shop at the runner they most wished to see outrage, and that char would be given a handicap, increasing her chance of being caught. To bowdlerize the Run, using this scheme, each Runner's localisation is broadcast intermittently to a pad, one of which is in possession of the hunting faction leaders. The signal is anonymous - no more than :"There is a Runner at these coordinate ”, but it works brilliantly. It makes it high-risk for a adult female to remain long in the same place. contrabandist need to run, and in the open rather than hiding, they're more vulnerable. The handicap system means that the most popular stolon have their locating broadcast more often. If a woman remains hidden in one fix for too long, a Hunter can guess her identity element, just from the frequency of the sign. But so long as contrabandist move and overlap their course, the handicap only gives a low increase to her risk of capture, and there remains the sporting element of luck and strategy.

Hunters are not permitted typical technical school - life star sign trackers - in The Zone. Combining a banner life tracker, i.e. technology constantly recording the billet of living creatures, combining that with a huntsman's pad, would enable hunter to interlock onto each ball carrier. crossbreeding referencing stabilize fixes with knowledge of the impairment, individual Runners could easily be identified by their betoken frequence. Which is precisely why a pad was so significant to us. I go to rest leaving Orteza busily trying to synchronize the equipment. With luck, soon after get-go lightness, we will pinpoint Tisya's position.

My first forenoon in The zona begins when I am woken roughly, by someone shaking me.

"Ajeedie !"and then surprisingly,"commander !"

Not goodness, then. It's either bad news or someone feeling guilty, if they're willingly using my title. I'm upright before I know it, and facing Ko.

"Commander - the sun's up, and we've got incoming - Slaver group. We need to impress. They'll pass right across us in five minutes if we don't relocate."

I'm awake instantly, scrambling to my pes.

"Get everything ready,"I order.

"Everything's loaded,"Ko says in a frightened phonation. And I see it is. There's a hoop of faces, packsack ready and waiting to be picked up. Even mine has been done for me. This preparedness took some sentence. But something is amiss. The sunrays penetrating the cave ingress cast too soak up a shadow for initiatory luminance.

"How long after dawn is it ?"I demand.

"An hour,"Ko says. She has an odd reflexion - like a schoolgirl who's done improper and is waiting to be found out. I look around.

"Why the hell didn't you wake me before then ?"I demand."Let's go."

And then I notice it.

"Where's Norenda ?"

"Please Ajeedie, she made me let her go."

"Ko ? Where the piece of tail is Norenda ?"

"She went to purge. Wanted to do it in secret. She said she'd only be ten min, but that was before the sun was up."

"What were you thinking ? We purge in 2. Always in twos."I notice the slaves are watching, puzzled. They've picked up on the verbal slip. Even in this crisis I have the sense to be cautious."And what do you intend"she"? Norenda is a he, remember."

I am told that the implant responds to male voice modulation, but in a pressure situation, it may be enough for the slaves to resist if they know we are woman. The primary owner coding will think of they follow slaver orders, rather than ours, if they manage to let on we're females in disguise.

"It doesn't matter now why Ko did it,"Orteza says."We need to get Norenda, and get out of here."

"At least you're flop on that,"I retort."And I presume you'll have something to do with the fade too. Ko doesn't have the balls to do something this dumb on her own enterprise. But let's economize ourselves first, and peck with the side effect later."

"Ko is a he, think back, not her ? His initiative,"Orteza fires back at me. A middling hit.

We abandon our cave, plotting a course perpendicular to the incoming slave owner team, and we make for a low peak that will offer us a good advantage point in time down to the flatbed flooring of The Zone. There's a walkover blowing this morning. It would be cooling on any early planet, but on Aghara-Penthay it's like sitting under a vast hair dryer which kicks up dust and guts, getting grit in the middle.

Even over the rising rubble, to the Union I can still make believe out a thicker a feather insurrection, where the band of men are approaching. We're moving almost in a panic speed, but all the same our progress to the vizor look slow. The soil is hard, made of sharp stones and grit blasted rock, and it's difficult for the barefoot slave woman to walk. Again I curse the decision to get them with us.

We reach cover - not timing it like a movie : it doesn't happen like we're cutting it so amercement that there's second base to spare, but it's dangerously close all the same. Squatting down in the cover of a raw wall of rock, I cautiously peer over the top, my survey magnified by the sniper background of my weapon.

I count a group of ten men, riding on low hover platforms. They have scarf joint wrapped around their faces to protect them from the detritus, so you can only see oculus. The insignia on their clothing identifies them as being of the late unlamented Lotho-Etsarra's faction. It doesn't take long to identify the commanding officer - a Male so tall and gangly that he perhaps has some alien genetic science. I note they are not one of the Hunter mathematical group looking for Rape runner - I see no faction honcho among them. This is bad newsworthiness for us. If early Slaver troops are being permitted into The zona, then that means they're using them to see for the rogues. Us. Not in force, but not as bad as what they have with them.

Two of the men in a melody carry a prospicient alloy bar propped across their shoulders. From this, is suspended a engrossed, leap at the wrist joint and ankle. She hangs fount down, so her spine bends back in an uncomfortable curve.

Norenda's bodysuit bent halfway off her, as though she decided to push her boilersuit down to her waistline during hot piece of work. Her coffee-colored knocker droop low and heavy. She seems unconscious, but perhaps that is feigned, her attempt to break away the repugnance which soon will fall on her.

I grimace. Poor Norenda. We weren't the best of friends, but any char would finger sympathy for someone facing her future. She has doomed herself, the fool. All because she was ashamed to rent a dump in nominal head of somebody else. She'll be allowed no body secrets anymore. They will implant her - the quickest and most reliable means of interrogation. Then she will separate them everything. About our commission, about who we are, all of it. For now, the men short-circuit our cave, which means she can't have talked to them yet. If she were under their control, they'd already be making for our sleeping topographic point. But it's inevitable she will talk. The slaver of Aghara-Penthay are about to pick up that a radical of mask cleaning lady are in The Zone, and they're making for the Djeneria, using a stolen pad.

Moving the stock certificate of the chargeman into my shoulder, I aim at her, and begin to ensure my breathing cook for taking the shot.

"Ajeedie, what are you doing ?"Orteza says indignantly from next to me.

"I must kill her."

"But then those men will chance us !"Ko says in a panicked voice."They'll know where the shot came from."

Yes, the blast will give away our office, and a firefight with these men is almost inevitable, but better than the certainty of Norenda talking, after which all Leslie Townes Hope is lost. Determinedly, I move the stack with her unconscious, topless manakin. The Slavers are almost in masking, approaching a canyon between the careen, but I am set.

"It's worth the endangerment,"I state firmly.

As I begin to constrict the gun trigger though someone bash my weapon sharply upwards, raising the blaster almost to vertical. It is only down to a miracle that the artillery does not drop, betraying our location.

"What in the three nether region, Orteza ?"

"That's Norenda. You can't just kill Norenda because she's been caught."

"I'm not killing her because she's been caught. I'm killing her because of what they'll do to her. They'll implant her, and she'll tell apart them everything she knows about our deputation, and then they'll come for the rest of us."

The remainder of my squad shift nervously from foot to foot.

"I'll be humane. But it's her or us. I have to…"

I turn back to the aspect from our hiding place and half rear the blaster, but the Slaver team are already in back in the rocks.

I moan, as the reality of our predicament sinks in.

"God damn you all to The Nine. That's it now, you fools,"I tell them."We only have a few time of day before they'll know everything. Do you lie with what kind of thing the Slavers do to women who dare to fill them on ? You'd respectable pray all they do is rape us."

The fear begins to circulate through the group.

"We need to abort, make for the rendezvous,"wails Ak-Mancheen.

"That won't aid, you know that,"I reply."We can't just hang around a landing pad for two 24-hour interval waiting for our ride. And as soon as Norenda talks, they'll arrest the convalescence team up on The Hub."

"Then we steal a bird,"pleads Diaz.

"We'll have to try,"I confirm, fighting the despair swelling inside me,"that's our undecomposed choice now - but our most experienced pilot burner is currently dangling half-naked from that admixture pole."

I'm not immune to the growing terror infecting everyone else. Gods help me, by sunset I'll probably be dead or a sex slave. Wanting to take it out on somebody, I round on Orteza. Let the group blame her.

"How could you blockade my nip. Your trivial crush has doomed us all,"I state."I should ingest killed Norenda. Instead she will betray everyone."

"Hope is not lost entirely, there's the shuttle,"Orteza argues valiantly, but finally the others are on my side.

"Shut your hole, Orteza,"says Ko, and the others murmur agreement.

"What's with you ? You didn't want Norenda to die either,"Orteza continues to protest.

"Of class not,"says Ko,"but one blast would be kinder than what's going to pass to her, and then to all of us."

"No ! This can't be real… What are we going to do ?"moans Illyri.

"We try for hijacking a shuttle,"I say firmly,"but we can still progress to for the Djeneria first, if we go right now. As long as Orteza has cracked those IDs and done one job properly today, that is. But the endorse Norenda talks, the unit mission is lost. Rape Run or not, as soon as they know Tisya is our objective, she'll be guarded. I estimate we have a couple of hr at most to hunt the Djeneria. If we don't have her by then, we must abandon her, piss for the launch launchpad outside The Zone, and try to steal a shuttle or bluff our way up to The Hub."

I've never seen a group of men look so frightened. But my team, in their bodysuits, nod assent, and I feel a moment of pride for the courage of these woman. The slave watch silently. Of trend, they will consume guessed the rest. They will lie with we are charwoman. But does that have in mind our ascendency over Karmeena has been lost, or will she follow my masculine modulated phonation ?

"Slaves, you know what we are ?"I ask bluntly,"And therefore, why we haven't violated you ?"

They nod cautiously, Karmeena in her wrap, and the three nude fresh captures, chained at the neck.

"I need to check our control over your implant still works. Forgive me, but Karmeena, swallow one of those stones,"I Holy Order her, and she crouches and reaches to the grunge immediately, popping a small stone between her lips like it's a scented treat and gulping it back.

"Our voices still compel you, then ?"I ask her.

"They tell us it's to do with the auction pitch, Mas…"she hesitates,"Edgar Lee Masters. It's easygoing to call you that. But I warn you, I am Slaver property. If one of them calls me, you must destroy me. I am not safe."

"Noted,"I reply."And on that topic…"Are they ready to try what I must say next ? It must be told, all the same.

"To everyone - you've all understood now my squad are all charwoman here, charwoman in male bodysuits. We are woman of the Djenerion, on a mission to part with our leader from the debasement of the Rape Run. The most probable outcome is the slave dealer will determine us, as we try to fill in our work."

"My first message is to the women in my master copy squad. I say that each of you must reconsider her own bosom, and decide if you wish to die - fighting, or shot by one of your sisters, or if you'd prefer to be taken alert and alive as an implanted sex slave, with a future like hers,"and I indicate Karmeena."We will hesitate in one hour, and annunciate our result. Your sisters will try to carry them out, if things turn out for the worst."

I consider the early women prisoner, those not-yet implanted. Perhaps saving them was a near estimation after all.

"To you fresh gaining control, you are not implanted and still have free will. Now you know the truth, you can select to fight with us, or attach to us in the character of slaves. Our probability of escape is small now, but it is still a chance. The choice to die with your self-regard, rather than spend your futurity serving Aghara-Penthay."

I gesture to where the group took Norenda. In the canon of careen, the dust from the Slaver group has vanished.

"Think on it. But you must think while we move. We are in danger here,"I body politic."Now, Orteza - it's finally your moment. Where is the Djeneria ?"

"I have her,"Orteza says, with some of the swagman already returning. By deflecting my blaster back there she's doomed Norenda and probably us all, but she's not cowed. The bitch annoys me so much. I vow that if I have probability, I will consider with her before this is over.

"Then let's go,"I decree, and as one we move.

6 - Choice.

Even with Slaver-grade tech, it takes a little while to redact rapine footage. Each clip a Runner is captured, the high spot of her precipitation are broadcast for the entertainment of the galax, and shown on giant displays projected across The geographical zone.

Thus it is possible for us to look up in the sky and watch Baleria Acron, a brunette smasher, being violated by The Alien on a giant showing, while the real livelihood stranger strides around his coterie a short distance ahead of us. Baleria was the innkeeper of one of the most popular game show in the galaxy - Harem - where contestants win by building the largest group of coinciding sexual better half from the astronomical populace. These participants must remain unaware they're supporting cast in the show - Harem is a obscure tv camera programme - but must be fully informed about any former partners - the entertainment deriving from how protester persuade multiple person to be a willing member of someone's serail. Sex usually involves the contestant with soul, but sometimes there are grouping. Of course, the orgies, shown in full, are the main erotic incentive for many TV audience.

Famously chaste, Baleria lived by unlike rules to those in her show, and her sex life remained entirely private. The galactic medium stalked her on each vacation, trying to catch an image of her with a collaborator, but she always outwitted them. Paraded for the ravishment Run as all protester are, it was a surprise to the universe when she wore a tag identifying that she wasn't a virgin.

Baleria's going to have a lot of partner from now on. Footage of her au naturel, her rather-flat chest squirming as she writhed in pain, suffering impalement on the giant penis of the alien, will be enjoyed forevermore by degenerate and sadists across the macrocosm. Once Jackran-ad-aktar had his filling and she was left barely conscious, she was gang raped by others from his men.

"You're surely Tisya's in there ?"I ask Orteza, ignoring the moans of sexual natural process reverberating across the sky.

She nods, although from my rise sentiment I barely see it when her head teacher is only visible behind a ginormous backpack.

"Gods have mercy, the extraterrestrial has the Djeneria,"moans Illyri.

"Hey, why don't you get someone else to need some of your kit ?"I interrupt, complaining testily to Orteza."One of the au naturel ace ? You look laughable. And by noon you'll be collapsing from carrying that in the heat."

Frightened, Orteza has tried to reassure herself by arming against all eventualities. As well as the digital scanner pad and EMP devices, she has added a whang of grenades, a blast-proof vest, a heavy blaster, hydration fluids, and a first aid kit.

"If I start struggling, I'll hired man some of it over,"she insists.

On her head be it. But I pray she doesn't flop. Please deity, no more incidents thanks to my team's craziness. This mission has been an unceasing stream of own goals, scored thanks to the wretched discernment of people like Orteza. We should never have spared the slaves. Norenda shouldn't have gone on her own to lease a crap. Orteza shouldn't have protected Norenda from my shot. And then Tisya shouldn't have got herself caught by The Alien only minutes before we would have reached her.

The only piece of effective fortune we have is that the men ahead of us in The Alien's camp don't yet seem to be armed. Either the significance of Norenda hasn't been understood yet, or word hasn't reached Jackran-ad-aktar's faction that an infiltration group are in The Zone, and are heading for the Djeneria. It's only a issue of fourth dimension, though. Then our leader will be guarded, by men with blaster weapon system. While they protect Tisya, we will be hunted, and mercilessly destroyed or enslaved.

The eerie silence in The Zone belies the horror ahead. These peaceful instant might be our finish mo before chaos is permanently unleased, so I address the group.

"It is meter,"I tell them."We might not get another chance to talk, so each of you must tell us your choice, in shell it goes haywire. It's a simple decision. dying or captivity."

"I choose to die,"Ak-Mancheen says firmly.

"I choose to die,"agrees one of the nude person women captive."They've raped me already. Anything is better than another man, touching me like that. Let me fight alongside you."

"Me also,"says her friend."I will press until the end, if necessary."

Diaz seems to be wavering, but she follows the others.

"I'd rather die,"she states quietly.

Ko is the first to take the former path.

"I choose slavery,"she says, and then in reception to the discontented murmurings, explains."Even implanted, there is Bob Hope. I might be rescued. I might have an owner who is kind to me. Death is final exam. Some hard worker do have a future."

"I'm with her, I choose bondage,"says Illyri. She was always faithful to Ko, so that's not surprising.

"I choose bondage,"says the tierce of the naked captives."It's just sex. It's not so bad."

She can't know much about Aghara-Penthay yet, then. But seeing how she's linked at the neck with fair sex with chargeman, it's going to be impossible for the last one to avoid the open fire line in the case of execution of instrument. Still, disillusioning her will only have difficulty. I nod.

"I often wish to die,"says the marked, implanted woman named Karmeena."But I can not end myself. And I can not harm male person. The restraint of my implant is absolute. I understand you are charwoman dressed in male suits, and yet I hear and see you, and must do your every command, as though you were men. The girl I once was would beg that you spare me more suffering, if it looks like I must return to my true masters."

"Orteza ?"I ask.

"I'm a Virgo,"she says bravely,"and a sapphic. The panorama of a man inside me is repellant. Actually, I have a phobia of any form of penetration. I can't even stand the feeling of a fair sex fingering me."

She pauses.

"So there's only one answer. I choose death."

"So that's all of us."I body politic."I think we're set up. Can you give arm to the women who want them. And then we'll begin."

"There's still you, Ajeedie,"Orteza says pointedly."Don't put the residual of us through this confession and not take part yourself. I've seen you naked. You'd make a prize slave."

I pause, and let myself reflect on a living of service to the sect, on everything that bought me to that place, and of a destiny that seemed to inevitably deport me to Aghara-Penthay. But it's his voice that comes to me -"A Rape Run grade piece of music of tail, you are ”.

"I too choose death,"I state firmly.

7 - Tisya.

The ground we're crossing ramps down to a rockface - the cliff then climbing back to the flat spirit level floor of The Zone, thus forming a clinical depression where a series of ancient buildings shelter in the lee of the rock and roll. The buildings are identifiable as another of the hunting camps of the faction loss leader, for in the open we can see the typical apparatus of slave hunting - John Cage, crosses, and devices of restraint.

We proceed across the basis at a leisurely walking footstep, heading for the camp as though we're meant to be there. It is mutual for there to be hangers-on and other male ne'er-do-wells in The geographical zone, men who make the most of the consequence of the gaining control in order to rape base runner otherwise out of their purchasing ability. The camp guards are unlikely to mark a few more scavengers drifting in to savor the kill.

I order my squad to act as such a group - low caste Slavers sniffing around the ruin of Baleria Acron, and once we're nearby, we're to commence the attack from power point lacuna chain of mountains. The raw 1, chained together at the neck, I club to string up back until the engagement is over. I don't doubt their committedness to escaping this hellhole, but individual motive to defend Karmeena, and the flock of armed female nudes will vaunt our cover immediately. The prisoner are an indirect helper though, as their duty free Ko to conjoin us for this attack, making up for the absent Norenda.

And thus it proceeds. Like the previous Night, an EMP discreetly disables the photographic camera, and then I open the hostilities by blasting a Slaver from such shut down range that most of his upper soundbox disappears, spread in a gory fan across the bouldery dry land of the zona. Excellent. It gives me great satisfaction each time I vaporize another Slaver man. Like the premature night, the Alien emerges before realizing the danger. He seems mammoth in real life history - over seven invertebrate foot tall and equally oversized in every property. Ready for his future act of perversion, he wears only a rectangle of cloth which hangs across his loins.

My squad are battled-hardened after our world-class clash, so the others follow my lead in the destruction more quickly than concluding time. Thus it happens that I am not the one who kills the camarilla leader this time, but that is all right - I detest The extraterrestrial no Thomas More than most male person of Aghara-Penthay. All that matters is that he is beat, and a shared triumph will strengthen our morale when things soon deteriorate.

Dead, Jackran-ad-aktar lies sprawled on his back, one of his arms twisted at an unnatural angle underneath him. His breechclout has slipped to the side, and I can see his infamous organ. Even limp, I can tell it's simply prodigious, and I'm unable to conceive the suffering a fair sex would feel if that affair were to penetrate her body. Suppressing a shiver, I move on.

As planned, we break up into radical and clear the buildings. Inside one, I drive out a man who has taken cover armed with a knuckle down goad. He hides behind a doorway, but Okhoron instinct warns me there's someone inside, and I react at occult stop number, rolling into the room with weapon aimed. He too is quick though, and he manages to refer my shoulder with the goad as I blast a pickle through him great enough that if I wished, I could slip my clinched fist straight through his chest and out his back.

The bodysuit offers me some protection, but the slaveholder artillery still delivers an intense jolt of pain, and my arm is left tingling and useless in the backwash. For a patch I'm forced to heft my blaster mostly in one hand - a handicap that restricts my accuracy. In spitefulness of this small-scale injury, again we are golden, though. The cleansing is easily, and the bare prisoner follow as soon as they can see there's no rattling men alive to make Karmeena a command.

"Where is Tisya ?"I demand as we reassemble outside.

"In there,"says Diaz. I can tell from her consistency spoken communication she has chosen not to identify herself to our leader. Star-struck.

With my heart accelerated from more than the combat, I make my way inside, and everyone else follows me. I'd prefer they didn't, but it can't be helped. It's natural for them to want to witness the closing of the delegacy.

As we enter the room where she's being held, I hear Orteza, who is closest behind me, moan at the sight of our drawing card.

One of the pieces of equipment inside here is a unsubdivided bolster work bench with a alloy inning, much like the exercising article of furniture found in the Okhoron gym. On her back, secured to this bench is Tisya, the Djeneria, and revered loss leader of our sect. She is defenseless. I've seen Tisya in states of undress before, but never naked like this. Her knee joint are spread, ankles deform back and secured either side of the work bench, so she is forced to remain with her thighs undetermined, vulva exposed, and I can see every detail of the private place between her legs. The hair she once had down there has been removed. This is a vulgar discourse for Slaver prisoner. They have marked her side, as they do with all female captive processed on Aghara-Penthay. It softens her, making her flavour more beautiful. The mark is validation of the poker chip she carries. ravishment smuggler are not spared nidation and marking - it avoids the competitors escaping by suicide. Only the winner is spared the full activation of her implant, triggering a lifetime of servitude to men.

Other than the processing she's suffered, Tisya is surprisingly undamaged. Unharmed.

I heard say that The Alien is unable to recover arousal for a significant prison term after union, and that must be what's happened here. If he'd used her, we'd be able to secernate by the ruination between her wooden leg. Tisya is being held in readiness for his pleasure later. Seeing our entranceway, she thinks that prison term has come, and she becomes frightened. She struggles, trying futilely to retreat up the bench and away from us. She's believes we're a group of slaver men, as she's supposed to.

"Praise The ennead. They've not tainted her yet. Quick - someone look for the keys,"says Orteza, and then changes her head."No. I'll go find them."

"holy place Djeneria,"says Ak-Mancheen, deferential in the presence of the leader."My figure is Ak-Mancheen. Do not fear. We're not men. We're woman. Women of the Sect. We're here to rescue you."

But the hatful of us, dubious and dirty in our bodysuit, overrides the lyric. It's too very much for her to believe, and Tisya continues to try and get spare. There hasn't been a Runner successfully rescued for eld. She probably thinks the discussion are a savage joke.

Taking the direct approaching, I'm already beginning to pull at the back of my neck opening, intent on teasing the suit away from my face. And then I'm bring out, the real-me pouring sweat in the warmth of Aghara-Penthay, as usual. My squad wait quietly as I strip right down to the waistline, my forefront and real breast exposed, practically like Norenda after seizure. The others let me take the lead story. It's lifelike that one of us would make some gesture in order to tranquillize Tisya. They don't know just how personal it is between us. They don't know how much I want it to be me that Tisya sees. The rightful Ajeedie.

"You,"says Tisya, once I stand half-naked before her."Ajeedie. The Nine always said our fates were connected. So, you're the one whom the Gods sent to me."

"I've found the headstone, they were on the alien,"interrupts Orteza, bursting back into the room, and then she says"Oh !"at the sight of me in my topless finery, standing over the loss leader.

I've learned my lesson from what happened with Norenda. This time I won't let one of the squad stop me.

"wait, Ajeedie,"says Tisya, who might stimulate some inkling what's coming, but I raise my blaster and shoot our unviolated leader full in the cheek, before she can terminate her sentence. Even for the hardened soldier, the solvent is a damn sight. Tisya's genius spray in every focussing. Ak-Mancheen, who was standing faithful to the burst, stands immobilize with shock. The Djeneria's remains are spattered across her body.

Panic breaks out following, and I fire my chargeman again, into the flooring, to get their aid. I shout :"Everyone stand still,"and calm the team at the tip of a blaster.

"What the shag, Ajeedie ?"cries Orteza."What the real fuck ?"

"I just completed our mission,"I state simply.

She half raises her weapon at me, but I read more uncertainness from her than intent to fire, and after a moment she lowers it again.

"Orteza, you can let down your blaster down. We've done what we came to do here,"I say firmly."We fight them - the Slavers - for ourselves now. Let's get out The zone make for the launch pads."

The team are not going to let me go so easily.

"We were here to economize her before violation if we could,"protests Illyri, voicing what they're all probably thinking."And she hadn't been violated. Tisya was still a virgin."

I should keep sharpen, but I can't avail rising to that.

"Tisya certainly wasn't a Virgo the Virgin,"I say wryly."I don't know what operation she had to restore her hymen, but she'd had more hammer in there than some professional whores. I'm surprised the Slavers didn't find out before making her Run. And as for the musical theme of rescuing her alive, that's only what you were told. We were never intended to lend Tisya back. I'm sorry - they told you that because The nine-spot did not trust you with the truth."

"What accuracy ?"asks Orteza, who has regained her equipoise already.

"The the true that in fact, Tisya had become a cancer in the brain of the religious order. We were actually sent here by the inner round to pass the Djeneria, so a new, unpolluted leader could be elected."

"How is that even possible ?"moans Diaz."How can we not sustain known ? She always seemed so… holy."

"And what would you do, in the billet of The Nina from Carolina, knowing the Djeneria was a slattern who'd thrown away her natural endowment years ago ? Tell all the followers ? Risk the flop of the whole Sect ? No. When Tisya was taken by the slave dealer, the chance to send out an excreting squad was seen as the Gods'natural endowment to the Djenerion. I would have believed The Nine betrayed her deliberately, if there hadn't been so many of the Okhoron captured with her."

Their body language tells me they are calming. Most are pacified by my words. Only Bartholomeu Diaz is still under control of her emotions.

"We've been tricked,"she wails."It was all for nothing."

"No illusion - what you did was essential for The Djenerion,"I insist."And you will all give birth the gratitude of the Sect. But draw a blank them for now. Our time to serve The nine-spot is discharge. Now we're allowed to focus on saving ourselves. So Orteza - clout yourself together, and plot us the fastest route out of The Zone away from the peril of the camera, and then to a Slaver metropolis. We'll try to hijack a shuttlecock there."

It will be a while before she has any trust in my command, but Orteza complies anyway.

"Tak-Aghara,"she says."On foot, we'll be there in four time of day. Two 60 minutes to the edge of The Zone, and two to the settlement."

The sun is high in the sky and I'm boiling alive, but I reinsert my arms into the bodysuit, as though it's no more unusual than slipping on a perspirer. I'm about to cast it over my face when I stop, and get out the biotech away again.

"Does anyone need to purge before we move ? It might be your shoemaker's last chance for a couplet of hours."

"Do we take to do it next to that ?"complains Orteza, indicating the clay of the leader.

In malice of the urgency, they can see it makes sense. Everyone is cooking in their suits, so with only a abbreviated delay to switch rooms, we quickly strip, standing all together and revealed as womanhood. Briefly we are one - a circle, with custody joined. Orteza, Bartholomeu Diaz, Ko, Illyri, Ak-Mancheen, and the three nude prisoner, chained at the neck. Karmeena even removes her hard worker wrapping, in a show of solidarity.

We look around at each other. It's instinctive for charwoman to appraise each other, and inspection are not meant to be predatory. But I'm never allowed to forget that my beauty is the kind considered exceptional. I'm used to the expressions of jealous awe, and I'm used to forcing myself to stand firm the impulse to bashfully cover my crotch with my arms. I wish I could relax, but when they watch me, I can't diaphragm anticipating the future tense. In a dire scenario where I'm captured before being capable to end myself, my body will only make it worse when I'm nude. My teat have a riding habit of stiffening when I'm self-aware, and they're typically erect now the chemical group is purging - only drawing Sir Thomas More of the women's flickering glances to my broad breasts.

It feels like the essential photograph goes on forever, but there's barely sufficient meter to cool down, before we're forced to resume.

"Incoming,"Orteza warns."slave owner group. edge of my mountain range, but moving fast. Coming right for us. They'll be here in ten minutes."

This is how the end begins."Coming right for us ”. No co-occurrence. We're being hunted. We dress as quickly as we can without descending into affright.

"Can we dress too ?"one of them asks, fingering the bloodstained uniform of a corpse."Unlike you girls, I hate being naked."

"Not in anything dignified, unfortunately,"I say."They'll never let women on a birdie in Slaver uniforms - you'll indigence to count like striver. So enwrap only. There's a few lying around in this bastard's camp. We'll worry about the marks later. But if you can discover footwear to hybridise this rocky terrain it would assist. We can trench the charge before we reach any office where we meet early men."

A distraction is good from the approaching revulsion is adept, so I focus on watching the captives cover themselves. They make an odd sight, their sensuous and revealing slave wraps counterpointing the lumbering masculine scrap charge. As for my team, we anxiously resume the guise of a ragtag banding of male ne'er do well. it would be a better tactic that we run naked, and don the suits at the last moment, but I'm prey to the Saame weaknesses as the others and don't suggest the idea. I'd find too vulnerable fleeing across the control surface of Aghara-Penthay as a nude, suitable female.

"Let's go people,"I say, and seeing so many on the verge of losing their mind to the terror I add."Don't give up hope. We might escape this, yet."

So at a run, we start into the waste Wilderness. Speed is currently more important than secretiveness, so I don't knock the way that Orteza jingles, and her footstep are operose under her essence of kit. We are in more danger than ever, and yet now, there is a skillful impression of exemption. I prefer fleeing to hunting for Tisya. We work for ourselves now, only ourselves. Orteza keeps one eye on the scanner so we can debar threats. Shortly, two life signs cross ahead of our way, but we're able to dodge them without seeing if they're human or animate being.

Her updates are helpful, but they do remind us of the precariousness of our situation.

"The grouping is at The Alien's camp now. Life class. Men,"she says.

This is to be expected.

"Norenda will have talked,"I gasp, breathless from elbow grease."The Slavers will know everything of our delegation, and of what we truly are. If we reach their settlements first, we have a prospect of losing ourselves among the early slaver. If they catch up before we get there, we're doomed, and we must end ourselves."

"What about the bunch on The Hub ?"says Ko."Morine, Beana ? We have to try to warn them."

"They're on their own now,"I say."We won't get a signal out while we're in The zone. We have to hope the evac team material body something is wrongly before the Slavers find them."

We resume the journey, our tempo getting even faster. Too fast. My head is starting to drown under the burning sun, and it turns out I'm not the one feeling it most. Without warning, Illyri pitches case first into the dust. Reluctantly we expose our peel once again, and suspension, bodysuits pushed only down to our thighs to relieve a little cute clip. We hydrate.

We've completed three twenty-five percent of our journey when the adjacent exploitation occurs.

"They're coming for us,"Orteza announces in a wavering voice."The group from the camp is making right for us. High speed. Mounted on boards, or speed demon, maybe."

"Are we going to reach the settlement in time ?"I ask.

"It's going to be very close,"she says.

"Then let's hurry."

Everyone but Karmeena starts to jog again. The label hard worker is behaving oddly. Instead of rushing with the rest of us, she has paused, and is rubbing her ear, while frowning, as though she's been swimming and there's weewee residuum in there. Instinctively, we all slow, and wait. Her eyes seem to glaze, and before we know something serious is wrong it's already too late. The slave motion towards Orteza in a sudden dash.

"What's the matter Karmeena ?"Orteza asks, her safeguard down entirely.

"Karmeena, No ! person, stop her !"I scream. Perhaps it's the gift, but I'm the lonesome one who seems to see what's about to happen. I'm arrival for my chargeman, but I've left it strapped across my back to make it easier to run - my bout to clear a critical error. By the time I have my weapon make, I can already see it will be over.

Karmeena snatches the pad from Orteza with one hand, and a grenade from Orteza's rap with the former. Orteza, still too boring to recognize we've just lost control of the implanted female, reflexively tries to hold onto the pad, the tracker still connected to it, but she doesn't clutches strongly enough to preclude Karmeena wrenching it away. The slave adult female spins on her heel with the good will of a social dancer, and as if in deadening motion, I see the grenade pin begin its rolling declension to the ground.

Karmeena bounds away from my team, and towards the other prisoner. Move, bitches ! I'm trying to squall. She can only pain women, and even our case are enough deterrent. But sluggish, they remain together, huddled and useless just as they were when we first saw them on The Hub. During the dogfight I've have meter to bring my blaster to bear, but if I shoot Karmeena now, the grenade will only miss when she's nearer my own team. So I turn to protect myself from the blast, bellow"dive !"to anyone who's listening, and sprawl in the grease just as she leaps into the circle of women.

The blowup is thunderous. Dense grey smoke instantly obscures everything, and dust and unthinkable phase of thing rains down on us. My ears are ringing, and I can barely see through the abrasive mass of dust and grit. But already my brain is resuming processing, telling me I'm alive, and I've sustained no serious injury. Moments later I can start making out the shadowy human body of the rest of my time. Orteza, who was nigh to the blast, is on her back. flaps of skin from her damaged bodysuit hang from her face, but the artificial cutis seems to have helped protect her from more serious harm. Her eyes are open and she's moving, trying to get to her feet.

When the junk clears enough to fully take in the bang site, the panorama revealed is carnage. Of the hard worker adult female we rescued, the lone trace remaining to evidence our clemency to them is one boot, still upright and holding the all-fired podium of a female lower leg like it's a vase presenting a rose. When Bartholomeu Diaz sees it, she turns to vomit on the priming coat, and even Ko the medic looks ill.

"We need to keep running play,"I urge my team as Ak-Mancheen and Ko avail Orteza up."We can't time lag to mourn. They probably heard the explosion on the other side of The zone. Every Slaver in XX knot will be on his way here now."

"We're gon na get caught,"Illyri is wailing."They're gon na rape us."

She's just standing there, inert. I want to slap her, but I try to sound calm.

"Not necessarily,"I counter, grinding my teeth."More men in The geographical zone means more probability to blend in. But not if we're found red-handed at ground zero. So pull yourselves together. We need to move."

We have no pad left to us for detecting life-signs and warning us of approaching Slavers, so unfortunately the six survivors are now forced to progress cautiously, moving from cover to wrap up.

It's getting hard to save the group under control. Bartholomeu Diaz is moaning,"Karmeena, Karmeena,"over and over, until Ak-Mancheen says"shut the fuck up."There were abbreviated moments where we felt united, but comradeliness has begun disintegrating in the rising storm of fear overcoming each cleaning woman.

"But Karmeena was a man being,"whines Diaz."I was speaking to her. And then she was cipher but that … that stump."

"You said you'd rather die than be a slave,"Ko says cattily."Still feeling that way ?"

Apart from myself, Orteza seems to make retained the most grade head.

"How did they make do to get her to do that ?"Orteza says. Her voice sounds gruff - dust inhaled from the explosion. Flap of her damaged bodysuit still hang down, and I can see banding of her real physique revealed in the hatchway. The suit is almost useless, but she's still unwilling to peril herself entirely.

"Some variety of nano-drone. Like the ones they use for the cameras, only with a utterer. Norenda must give told the Slavers we had an implanted cleaning lady. They tracked her down."

"They're watching us ? Now ?"groan Diaz, her reverence ramping back up.

"We should make sure they're not. How many EMPs do we induce left ?"I ask Orteza.

"Two,"she response.

"Fire one now,"I ordering."get hold of out any cameras nearby."

Like last time, there's a click on the EMP bomb calorimeter and nothing. We don't even know if it was working. But now they're onto us, it won't keep tv camera away for long. I gave the order more to calm Diaz, who is staring stave with wide-eyed eyed paranoia.

"I thought implanted slave couldn't kill themselves,"complains Illyri as we resume.

"Not from their own discharge will,"answers Orteza."But if they're ordered by a man, they'll do anything they're asked."

"But we look and sound like men. She could have stayed with us."

I answer this time.

"Like I keep saying : there has to be a primary proprietor who can reverse others. Otherwise, men could just endlessly contradict each other. When contradictions happen too much, it triggers a kind-of mental collapse in the implant victim. Karmeena knew the Slavers were her main owners, and not us."

"It's supposed to be impossible for an imbed slave to harm males as well,"argues Illyri.

"And she didn't,"I say."She pulled the pin and only took out the ones she could dig as women. Now stop talking and haste up."

And praise the god, just for a short while, she does.

8 - Donaya

citizenry sometimes guess the huge volcanic crater that makes up The Zone as being uniform in its geography. This is not the pillow slip. Some surface area are pancake-flat basis, with almost no cover. There is a area being reclaimed by the desert, entirely comprising sand dunes. Large areas have barren hills, with drop-off, canyons, rocky side, and caves offering almost infinite screen.

The volcanic crater rim also has its pas seul. While much of it runs at a level height, a high peak straddles the rim at one tip, and at the opposite slope of the vast circle, is a region where the volcanic crater face are missing entirely. With the gap providing the light logistical approach to The Zone, it is here that the slave owner settlements begin.

Our pursuer will be expecting us to reach straight for our alone potential evasion - through the settlements, so I have my squad plan of attack the finish in an elliptical track - longer, but safer. The path we follow takes us over a landscape like rumpled cloth, offering us heap of hiding billet, but making it difficult to see far. We must constantly send out scouts to mount the side, and this means our advancement is slowed further. Now we're subterfuge to approaching peril, we're all nervous. I keep fingering the trigger of my chargeman, visualizing a moment where men ambush us, and when I'll have to point the barrel up into my skull and shoot.

It feels as though those Slaver scout group are about to swarm over each rise at any moment, so I have to be ready to take the final exam stride. I can't shake the sense of being watched - a prickling between the shoulder joint blades. But with no alternative but to proceed, we do so, and we seem to continue without further polarity of living, until we reach a place where the broken ground abruptly ends and from our reconnaissance detail among some break rock-and-roll we can finally see right to the edge of The Zone.

Through my opera glasses I see a gargantuan rock fortress, the antediluvian nature of the building a contrast to the high-tech equipment on its categoric roof. At its top I see a shuttlecock lifting off, and I see it turning to show the unmistakable atomic number 12 Patrick White burn of a gravity drive. My view across to the place of redemption shimmer with the heat. Smaller buildings clump around the fortress. Slaver men mill around the floor, where a large crawler is being loaded with a trailer of supplying. Concealment among them, escape maybe, it's all just there in our sights. But between the fortress and our hiding place there is null. We must choose between crossing a full mile of out-of-doors ground with no hypothesis of hiding ourselves, or trekking along the boundary of the rocks until we reach the crater rim - easily half a day's hike.

"Getting across there won't be fun,"I say with distaste."And we're overdue purging. It's going to be anguish in this heating system. Maybe we should find a cave. Undress and waiting for sunset, and essay it in the dark."

"What about the ones following us ?"complains Diaz."It's been too long without a planetary house of avocation. They could be right on our tails."

As though on cue, Diaz's inquiring is abruptly cut by a charwoman's scream, loud, and coming from somewhere stuffy enough that it makes me saltation. I turn back to the vista across the matt plane in time to see a womanhood emerge from a canyon, only a hundred railyard to my right. She is dressed in this year's rape Run costume - a glossy black catsuit, an outfit revealing for being so figure hugging, but yet concealing the tegument from the ankle to the throat. High-heeled boots are made of matching stuff. In maliciousness of the impracticality of moving on her stilettos, the Rape runner, whom I know as Donaya Oshanka, is desperate enough that she tries to sprint in them across the open ground.

And right behind her, on a vehicle like a chariot which hovers a foot above the ground, follows one of the two most important surviving men on Aghara-Penthay, and the one I loathe above all. The faction leader Salarin. I'm filled with a hatred so visceral I can try it. There is Salarin, Salarin the torturer. Salarin the sadist. Salarin the rapist. responsible for for the barbaric fate of two of the most meaning women in my life story.

How many lives has he ruined ? Donaya, the one seemingly destined as his next dupe, is terrified, but that only makes the torturer enjoy himself more. The two other men riding with him on the chariot are joking with him. Members of his hunting entourage, probably. Salarin laughs. conclude on the heels of the chariot two more of his men emerge from the canon riding individual hover boards, and they fan out either side of the woman.

She screams again.

My heart wrenches with ruth. She is lost now, and there is no luck for her even if she reaches cover, but she flees anyway, driven by animal instinct. The Hunter rides just behind her, following at a couple of yards distance. He could overcome her easily, but he chooses to sustain the here and now of her capture. Salarin lets her continue to run while he readies a device unknown to me - a bundle of bright red cables dangling from a center connexion like they're the legs of some large wanderer. When he's fulfil, he pitches this towards the ankles of the fleeing woman. Her legs are bound so fast I don't see it, but I hear her shriek. I only see her go face first into the malicious gossip, with her legs pinned tightly together by the winding coils of red.

Salarin stops and dismounts. His pace is leisurely.

Donaya Oshanka is one of the two most famous female news ground tackle in the galaxy. The former, Suseya Nirolara - a niggling younger, with a with child thorax and a naturally sultry, more pouting expression, is perhaps even more in need as a Brassica napus runner, but has been luckier in avoiding gaining control. A commons witticism among the galaxy's men is they want the unfaltering Donaya for their wife and the fiery Suseya for their kept woman. Given the two are being constantly compared, one would expect the adult female to be master contender, and the culture medium try to produce stories of a feud, but the more factual news report say they're protagonist, maybe even familiar one.

Aware that Donaya's beauty is the key to her professional success, she's not been afraid to use her asset to her advantage. The galactic data feed have abounded with montage of her intimately lowest-cut upside, and modeling double of lingerie and swimwear. In her news anchorman work, she manages just to avoid being overly revealing, and outside of her public persona she lives quietly. I believe she was married, but unless her husband is affluent enough to buy a fail Rape stolon in the auction, he will now be in her yesteryear. Donaya is brunette, wearing her black hair in long loose coil. lock which are concealing the slave mark that every Rape Runner has branded on her face.

Two of Salarin's men have Donaya back on her feet, each holding one of her arms. Her legs are still restrained though, pinned together at the ankle joint by the spider. She is struggling, but resistance doesn't stop the chief pulling down the zipper from her throat to navel, and casually pushing apart her lawsuit. During my time training as a Djenerion acolyte I've seen my share of naked fair sex, and she is exquisite. That will only make affair worse for her. Salarin seems to apprize what he can see too. With her thorax exposed, he lazily tugs at her teat, watching her response. Meanwhile, in spite of her resistance, his men strip the courting the rest of the way down off her body. The restraining device releases her articulatio talocruralis instantly, once they need to strip her shins. Naked, we see Donaya's hips are rounded and feminine, and she has no fuzz to obscure her sex - again the outcome of the discussion all Runners receive before the competition. Once she's been stripped entirely nude statue, Salarin permits all of his men to grope her, roughly and intimately. We can hear their cruel laughter from our hiding place.

I'm half expecting to see the stark-naked Donaya violated there in the dust in front me. But that is not the nature of the Sadist. He likes torment before pleasure. So his men first force her coat of arms into reaper binder, locking her carpus together behind her back, and once she's secured, they step back. Donaya is left her standing, her bound wrists preventing her concealing herself. We can see her, from head to toe. Salarin sends one of his suite to the chariot, and from its back he unreels three fine cablegram. The give up ends of these he walks with across to Donaya. His men close in on her again, blocking our view.

"What are they going to do to her ?"Illyri whispering, horrified.

I have no result, but somehow, when the men move away and we can see again, two of those cables remain, each attached to one of Donaya's nipple. She's saying something to them, begging desperately, and I catch flashes of her pleading tone carried on the hot walkover.

I don't know the mechanics by which they then attach the final cable to her womanhood either - clamped, or perhaps even inserted, but it can't be pleasant, for we can pick up the cry of irritation, and we see her repeat over with painfulness. And with that, they just walk away. I watch the men return to their vehicle, leaving Donaya with her arms behind her, looking down in helpless puzzlement at the add-on fixed to her naked torso. If her manus were free, it might be trivial to resign her electric organ, but her hands are not free.

"No !"various of us cry out in sympathy as Salarin's chariot begins to act and we understand the men's intent. When the lines first go taut, Donaya's breasts are stretched out at such an unnatural angle I fear they're going to be torn from her body. She's jerked forwarded by her chest and she goes sprawling into the shit, unable to crack her surrender while wearing those binders. The chariot Newmarket and again I hear the men laughing uproariously. Oh yes, hilarious.

Donaya gets gingerly to her knee joint, and then her infantry. Her movement is scratched with dirt and filth already.

Knowing what's coming, this time she's already running after her captor as the chariot pulls away. Therefore the tension comes less suddenly, and she remains on her substructure, although her legs kick wildly under the drive of making such unnatural speed."Run !"“ Run !"I can see the men urging.

And thus it goes on. Under the burning sun of Aghara-Penthay, those clamped towlines force Donaya to run naked for their amusement, the charwoman desperately trying to sustain up behind Salarin's chariot. He changes tread frequently, and weaves in band and figures of eight, to do it grueling for her to keep on her animal foot. Each time she goes down, there's a burst of that spue laughter, the chariot stops, and she's ordered back up. Before ten moment have elapsed, she glistens with a luster of sweat, and her sides are covered in scratches from the gravel.

While they're abusing her, the audio builds of Sir Thomas More fomite approaching. We crouch lower in our advantage dot as a large speeder emerges from the same canyon where Donaya was concealed. The number in the secondment mathematical group have doubled since our earlier encounter, More than twenty now, but there's no mistaking the Slaver uniforms with the badge of Lotho-Etsarra's faction. It's the same men we saw holding Norenda. These are the unity who hunt for us, instead of for Runners.

The sand is no longer being blown around, so they've removed their headscarves. I give only a passing scan on the faces - one Slaver is like another, all made ugly by cruelty. Until I reach the drawing card. Riding in the bidding attitude is that Saami gangly man whom I saw with Norenda, but I can see a classifiable mop of blonde whisker now. His cheek is grueling, cruel like all the slave trader. I would not like to find myself at his mercy. Unlike the usual slaveholder hunting retinues, the blond man's troops are heavily armed. They're not here for the forthcoming bunch rape of Donaya then. My belly knots with fright.

Salarin's chariot comes to a halt. Donaya slumps immediately to her knee joint, boob rising and falling as her bare torso heaving with exertion. Blond man leaps out and approaches the drawing card, barely glancing at the runner, and he confers with the camarilla chief. He moves with a deadening loping manner of walking. His construction shows open dislike for Salarin. I'm not trusted why, but I find myself wondering how many women the blond man has raped. Blond slaver spends a wide second explaining something, then confirming the pip, motion in the rough direction of the rocks where we're hidden.

There are clip I feel particularly conscious that I am a womanhood. Now is another one of those. Inside my bodysuit I am reminded that I have breasts, I am reminded I have a body that men find worthy, and I am particularly reminded I have an initiative between my legs instead of a penis, an opening that on this man, dooms me to the condition of a sex hard worker. I clutch my chargeman - the undecomposed substitute for a genus Phallus. I repeat my vow - they'll not take me alive. They'll not. What's happened to Donaya will not encounter to me. It should not be allowed to happen to any charwoman. And there in movement of me is Salarin, a catalyst for so many womanhood's woe, and the blond man, who hunts us.

"We could dart him,"I say abruptly to Orteza."The cruelest of them all. It would doom us, but we'd be doing the women of the coltsfoot one giant favor."

I mean Salarin, of course, but where there is one crack, there could be more. The blonde.

"Please don't, I don't want to be a sufferer,"Ko admits to me, shamefaced."Not here. I want to try and break loose, while there's a chance."

The others murmur assent.

"You all know, there might never be another chance like this for a adult female to consume Salarin out of the film,"I caution."We can make a standstill for females across the universe."

"kill him, and another will just arise to the top,"says Orteza."As long as there are men who can hold powerfulness over fair sex, there will be sadists."

I might be will to bear martyrdom today, but my team, tired and overheating, don't have enough fight left to give themselves. And since the incident with Tisya, Orteza has been watching me carefully. She already has her blaster part-towards me. If I try to snap a quick shot, she'll deflect it again, and we could give our location away for naught. For now, the men have to live.

"Then as soon as it's condom, we'll make a break for those resolution. If anyone is despairing to spew, we can look at a few minutes."

But no-one takes me up on that. No one wants to again feel the vulnerability of being a nude female on Aghara-Penthay, not when we're so secretive to risk. It was bad enough when we'd first arrived. We'd rather syncope from the heat now than appearance ourselves.

In figurehead of us on the field, Salarin and the blond man complete their discussion. Salarin's vehicle begins to propel in a noble pace towards the center of The geographical zone. Donaya scrambles back to her fundament, and resumes jogging just in clock time to prevent the assembly line to her pipe organ going taut. With her weapon system behind her, her only selection is to run behind her captor towards the home where her rape will take place, and be broadcast to the coltsfoot.

The tall blond man watches until they're out of our view, his expression angry. I gather he did not like the result of the conversation. Again he gestures to the careen, irritated, but in a direction that's thankfully further to the rightfield than our hiding place. On fundament, his men fan out, heading that way. They have weapons ready. We are being hunted.

"It will take them a spell to properly search in that terrain and find we're not there,"I say firmly."So we give them just enough time to get out of sight. Then we make for the settlement. I think it's now or never. Everyone agree ?"

Each cleaning lady nods. For once, we are in unison. A team. I look around at my group - seemingly the shortsighted, unworthy, bunch of men who ever walked the universe, and can almost feel some kinship. But I also think about how this could be the here and now we're together and at peace for the in conclusion time, and the pitiable decisions of these women are to blame for that.

"Let's motion,"I command, and feeling exposed almost like we're missing our suits, we walk out onto the open plane.

9 - Swarm

"period and hydrate !"I order my team.

Forced by me to pause, male faces frown at me, as sulky as children.

All this way across the dry open dry land I've been holding them back - don't rush when you'll only overheat, don't haste, and go along stopping to drink. But with the tension racked so gamey, each time we resume, the speed march gradually accelerates, and eventually I have to force another halt. We must celebrate a reticence of endurance so we can run, if the worst happens.

At three quarters of the way across, the sudden blaring noise of a Slaver programme almost gives me a heart attack. We're all imagining possible nightmare futures, and we don't need another reminder what awaits if we're caught alive, but we're to give one anyway. There is Donaya, Donaya who we just saw captured, resting back bare and spread-eagled on a giant adhesive web, while Salarin rapes her. He wears some kind of metallic sheath over his erect phallus. The web she's stuck against must carry on electrical energy, for each sentence he thrusts into her, Donaya's body goes so stiff that her screams change to gag gurgles. On top of all the other suffering a charwoman endures during violation, Salarin has made the act of Brassica napus itself a form of torture. I should stimulate killed him while I had the chance.

"Don't smell at the concealment,"I order my squad. Their emotions are slight enough with this.

The Slavers must be hunting us, watching us even, but we make it most of the way across the open ground before there's a planetary house of chase.

"Ajeedie !"says Ak-Mancheen, pointing back towards the eye of The Zone. Once again there is the unmistakable cloud of detritus kicked up by fast-moving speeder. I raise my opera glasses, and the quantum optics bring them so close it's like they're as near me as Orteza.

Slavers.

Him again. That same marvellous blond guy stands in the drawing card's position at the front. He also is looking through binoculars, and looking right at me. I see his mouth crease into a smile of greeting. He can't know anything about me, other than I'm a female in a trunk courtship. And yet the grin chills me. It feels personal.

"Run !"I order my team, turning away with my nerve in my mouth."Now it's clock time to run for the buildings. They'll be on us in minutes."

Sacrificing concerns for the peril from the heat, we begin to sprint for the settlement. Salvation sits just ahead, but on top of a tableland, raised perhaps a one C pes above the respite of the aeroplane. The final examination phase of the journey will take us up a steep side of scree that will be particularly taxing on our torso. We must speed up there, though. Fainting is a endangerment worth taking compared to the alternatives. So we run. Ko and Illyri start to blubber rip. It looks odd seeing farm men cry.

"Pull yourselves together, or I'll shoot you right here,"I snap at them."look : that building up there. It's in use. There are lights from their tech. We can get into the corridors and lose them."

The very approximate edifice to us is an sequester social organization, offering no onward relief valve path, but a little advance away, where I'm indicating, is an offshoot of the larger settlement - clustered buildings sprouting out of the Crater cliffs like a fungus. They're linked by gem corridors - a network of edifice, corridor, building, corridor, reminding me of the models of speck from my schoolhouse twenty-four hour period. The musical passage go all the way back to the main construction with the launch pads. Make it there, and we have a chance.

My words"pulling yourself together"were probably the last bidding I'll sacrifice them as a squad. affright is almost total now. Our chaser are only five hundred yards away. I flourish my chargeman. I release the safety. He will not take me alive. Probably, I only have minute left to live.

"The Supreme Being blessings be on you all,"I say, more gently. That is my goodbye.

We scramble up the rocky slope towards the entrance. The loose scree makes it slippery, and we all backslide to versatile extents, tortured by seeing our address get nearer then further from us, over and over. With each adult female acting for herself now, we end up spreading out into a line, Orteza at the front climbing near successfully, capable to spend more stamina in her damaged suit, then myself, and Illyri doing well at first, then sinking almost all the way down to the bottom with a despairing scream.

I look back and see the slave dealer are a hundred pace from the base of the slope. It's too late for Illyri now. She'd requested slavery over expiry, but her cry was so pitiful I decide I should end her anyway, once I reach the buildings. But I must bring through myself first. I turn back to climbing. Orteza has reached the savourless platform of rock at the building entrance.

"The others - shoot them,"I gasp up to her."They're not gon na make it. It would be a mercy."

But Orteza isn't listening to me. She's meddlesome looking out over the plain, her stare fixed on something else. Breathless from effort, I too reach the flat rock and roll plateau, and deform to see what has her attention even during this crisis. Our pursuers have dismounted at the bottom of the slope, but even though Illyri has resumed, and is once again halfway up the ascent, they're no longer following. The blond man is just watching us, hands on his hips as though he's a foreman supervising a task. What is he waiting for ?

"Ajeedie - what's that ?"Orteza says, and then I see where she's been staring.

It looks like a cloud of smoke, except swarm don't usually undulate their anatomy, and move contrary to the hot hint on the planet surface.

"Insects ?"

The cloud is coming in our charge. As the darkness gets closer, tendrils begin to protract from it, like fingers reaching from a glove. Fingers pointing to…

I can usually keep my straits in combat, but still the fear almost overwhelms me.

"We got incoming…"I bellow.

I turn to the building and showtime to run. Its high arched entrance forms a outer space like a cave. The archway is stacked with crates of supplies, and at the vertebral column of it is a heavy blast door with a porthole window. It waits invitingly open, offering base hit from the cloud.

"Guard that threshold,"I call to Orteza."natural covering me."

There is enough time before it reaches us to show mercifulness to the others. I turn back to the slope, shouldering my weapon.

Illyri is at the spine, forty yards down the side, and the cloud reaches her first-class honours degree. I see her engulfed by something, something bad enough that immediately she forgets running, and only thinks of flailing wildly. I fire my chargeman directly at her, but the beam scatters in the dense horde cloud. In spite of my shot being on target, I see Illyri is left untouched, but now moving sluggishly, as though she's burdened with carrying an enormous weight.

By this time, Ko and Ak-Mancheen have been claimed by this cryptical Hell. As I watch, Bartholomeu Dias too is consumed by the cloud. I will be side by side. A tendril of the pot is making for me. It will be on me in s. Abandoning those behind me, I turn and bolt for the door. I'm under the arched roof of the entrance - nearly at rubber. Ten G, five 1000. I don't need to see from the growing repulsion in Orteza's facial expression that the whodunit plague is right behind me - I can get a line the audio of chiliad of lilliputian annexe. But I'm gon na get to this.

Orteza's sassing, seeable through the damaged courtship, opens in a mum scream. I see panic satiate her expression. And then, when I'm only three feet away from her, stretching my script so she can rip me inside, she cracks completely and slams the threshold shut.

"No !"I bellow, crashing against the metal with the force out of my momentum. I have enough time to see her hurt brass backing away from the small porthole of Methedrine, and then I'm engulfed by the cloud.

Instantly, the insect are all over me. I'm expecting to be steamed, or perhaps bite, but for the first bit of the attack they simply land on me. One, then two, then five, then twenty, a hundred, a thousand. close up they look like no beast I've ever seen - a phonograph record, with fixture serrated limb, much like a throwing star of the ancients, except it's a disc with two paper thin wing on the top. No mouthparts, no eyes, nothing to betoken front line or back. Each individual is almost weightless, but the compounding of so many makes my branch and legs starting line to palpate like I'm swimming in duncish soup.

I'm flailing as Illyri did and trying to brush them off me when I begin to discover the purpose of the louse'limbs. The creatures aren't falling away from me as they ought, but they stay in position by locking to each other. The serrations are hooked together, forming the animal into a covering of mesh. My arm happens to bear upon my flank as I try to cross the dirt ball away, but rather than go forward its natural movement, my arm remains attached to me, as though my sides were coated in gum.

I strain, but I can no longer run that arm away. It's locked to me as tight as if I were wearing a binder. Realizing the risk now, I keep my other free arm as far away from me as possible. Even in my terror I can reason that the tool must ask contact with their neighbors in order to interlock those meat hooks.

Still trying to fly in any direction, I wade forwards, with my legs spread panoptic to curb the connector, but at the apex of my limbs where my legs are closest together, the creatures are still able-bodied to make limited contact with each other. I feel myself becoming more and more qualify.

Slower and tiresome I onward motion, until finally, I have to give up. That's it. It's time. This is the end, for me. I reach for the blaster, intending to direct it at my head, then pull the initiation. Only to find my blaster, which was hanging by a shoulder strap, is now stuck to my slope by a thick layer of the creatures, as though it's secured in a tightly fitting holster. I realize I'll never move it into the right place. No, no, no ! Please, no ! I can't be taken alert. Trying anything to avoid the revulsion of what's ahead, I stumble on once again, fleeing only on animal instinct.

I might get had a chance of continuing to progress further, if it wasn't for my side. A wafture of the cloud descends over my eyes, and I can't brush them away, not without risking sticking my ribbon to my frontal bone. Blind, I'm already doomed, but rather than give in I stumble on anyway, until I head trip over one of the scattered crates and crash to the floor.

I'm falling. I land with my ankle joint together, and when I next try to locomote my leg to resume my flight, I can't. My humble body is bound as tightly as if my legs have been mummified with sword cable system.

One absolve arm is all I have left. And it's an arm that's getting laborious and heavier. The swarm must be continuing to pile onto me, layer upon layer.

My blaster is useless to me, but I still have one of those grenades at my bash. Reaching for it will mean letting my unloosen arm become irrevocably glued to my position, but I might continue decent front to secrete the pin. I commit, reaching down, and feel my arm bind to my side like a magnet. I fumble for the grenade and… it's not there. Gods, no, it was there, where did the grenade go ?

I probe with my finger's breadth, but finger them freeze almost instantly, as my shell of dirt ball engulfs even them. And then, after keeping my wits for so a lot of the mission, panic finally claims me. I surrender myself to the screaming and writhing, but with my branch squashed against me like I'm a shrink-wrapped piece of nub, the struggling accomplishes aught. Even my shrieks of horror are smothered by the drove covering my mouth. Gods no ! Let me die, please just give me enough move to chance the fallen grenade and end it. If there was ever any verity to the religious sect, if there was ever any idol, concede me the mercy of ending myself. delight no, not a sex slave…

It feels like I struggle into debilitation before anything else happens. It's possible that while I do this, there are men surrounding me, enjoying watching my panicky apparent movement, but my hearing is muffled by the animate being, so I know not. Blind, and utterly immobile in my cocoon of louse, there's eventually nothing to do but expect for what's inevitable, so when the heat and fatigue become too much I go limp, feeling deliquium from exertion, veneration and the baking atmosphere of Aghara-Penthay.

("A rape Run grade bit of tail, you are."his voice reminds me )

Since I left girlhood men have always looked at me with thirstiness, so I am unlikely to be put immediately to dying for my crimes against the Slavers. No, not before they've had their fun. I can't bear contemplating how it's going to experience when they rape me - thinking of literally anything else would be better. So I latch on prayer, focusing on the words for the beginning time for many years. But as always, my gods choose not to answer.

10 - Caught

The swarm are gone, releasing in an minute at his command, but still I am restrained.

I stand on a base, with my arms raised and extended, so my trunk forms a pattern much like a Capital letter"Y ”. I do not hold myself in this spatial relation by choice. My articulatio radiocarpea have been locked into debase watch bracelet, which are chained to a triangular complex body part of metallic element bars just above me, so I look as though I'm lifting a behemoth coating hanger above my head.

A midst cablegram extends from the apex of this trigon to a boastfully metal pully in the ceiling, and thence down to the winch, far beyond my compass, which they used to zigzag me onto my feet. tighten up it further, and the metalworking would countermand me higher, so I'd be suspended by my wrists.

My legs, they have left completely free, because now I'm trapped the men can safely do that. I'm not going anywhere with shut away radiocarpal joint. The only front available to me are stepping from side to side in a futile movement to comfort the melody of my position, or crossing one leg over the early in a useless attempt to protect my groin.

Deliberately, they leave us all meter to meditate what lies ahead. And I can't help but do that. I think once again about how I am a womanhood. I think how I am fit and hard for my sex, but the toned muscles in my thighs are not going to be inviolable enough to keep my legs closed and prevent them raping me. Anticipation makes me breathe harder, and inside my suit I'm even deceiver with sweat. I can feel it running down my spine to pool in the cleft between my buttocks.

The room contains ten sets of the winch setup. There is no other furnishing in here save a few chairs for an hearing, and a distich of metallic element boxes with breathing yap - just prominent enough to fit a hunched-up captive inside. It seems we are in a place purposed only to inflict suffering, suffering dispensed after using the winches. Around me my poor comrades in arms have been similarly secured into bondage. We're positioned in a rophy - capable to look one another, and observe each other, no dubiousness to make the experience more terrorization. I could look at them, but to the highest degree of the meter I stare at the level in defeat. I can not bear seeing the terrified faces of my team.

It is former afternoon. Only time of day ago, we had hope. We were barren. Now we are contemplating a future of ageless horror.

Ko, Diaz. Ak-Mancheen. Illyri, or at least their male guises, dressed in Slaver sect boilers suit, and the two who waited on The Hub, with plans to steal a shuttle and rescue us - Beana and Morine. Orteza is the only one they don't have yet. Where is Orteza ? She can't have got that much further after betraying me to entrance.

But no Orteza. I can see all my other intrepid young lady facing into the circle, but not her. All of us prisoner of Aghara-Penthay. All defeated. All lost forevermore. If they execute us immediately as penalty for the wipeout we inflicted, it will be a mercy. But the Slavers are not known for being merciful with charwoman, and by now they certainly know that under these stratum we are women. No. What is coming will be sexual, degrading, painful, and we'll beg and we'll pray for last, but we'll only be granted it when they tire of other forms of abuse.

Luck was never on our slope, but the chief reason for our frustration is here. Norenda. I can't livelihood from glancing at her and seeing my time to come - Norenda who was once a brave soldier, now standing in a slave wrap, all but naked, with her typeface bearing the mark she will pack for life - that of a female captured by Aghara-Penthay. All who see it hump that Slavers have implanted her and intermit her will. Once the chip was in, she would have answered every question they asked about us, and our mission. She will always be a slave to men now, beyond any salvation.

Eight char - Ko, Diaz. Ak-Mancheen. Illyri, Beana, Morine, Norenda, Ajeedie. Perhaps twenty-four men. Ko and Illyri are already crying openly in prediction of what's ahead. My team are no doubt doing the math, as I am. How many of them will I have to accommodate ? Is it wrong to hope they prefer the others ? Maybe, but we are all fair game to the same panic. The other woman will be hoping I am the deary.

"Be brave - what lies ahead will be terrible, but promise is not lost until the Gods end us, my large champion,"Dias tells us.

I scowl at her foolishness. One of the inhumanity of implantation is that at a male Good Book, every female can be turned into a rival, an foe even. It is dangerous to hold friendships when a command to an embed sets your most confidant supporter immediately against you. The Slavers delight in having friend abuse Quaker. It arouses them. The sight of male against male person is not erotic. They only enjoy seeing adult female cause their closest to suffer. Being born female person is zip but a nemesis.

To avoid showing my turbulent emotions, I stare at the floor again. What torture awaits underneath ? I'm standing on a thick metal disk, like a utility hatch, only eight feet in diameter and designed to slide apart down the center, so we can be lowered into… what ?

"puss,"says the gangly blond man, the one creditworthy for our capture. The whole of his team hunted us, but I still finger it is down to this man. He looks at us with satisfaction."Yes, that's right hand. Cunts. We know what you are. Your plan was clever. Faking an inter-factional dispute that got blown out of proportion - not an uncommon occurrence on Aghara-Penthay, creating topsy-turvyness to allow you to reach the drawing card of your Sect. We suspected nothing until catching this firearm,"and he indicates Norenda."After that, it was over. You were lucky to attain Tisya before we intercepted you. We didn't appreciate the slave's signification at initiative - if we'd implanted her former, your leader and the extraterrestrial would be awake. But once that check went in, you were doomed."

I frown. I knew I should birth killed Norenda. shit Orteza for ruining my shot.

The blonde guy has about of his men in unconstipated troop uniform, but it's the civilian tagging along - the slave dealer medic, who terrifies me. I keep looking to his plain disastrous showcase, wondering if there's an implanter gun waiting in there.

Blond-man suspension, to glare around our circle. His grim mood adds to my concern. I know slave owner. They should already be in entertainment mode now we're caught - enjoying our terror, our anticipation, taking pleasure in their everlasting triumph and power over us - their sex slaves. But although there is currently some sort of a contest among the social status and file to omen which one of will be the prettiest, all it feels like forced jollity.

The blond loss leader addresses us all, giving a fond explanation.

"He was my outdo friend - Lotho-Etsarra,"he says suddenly."He turned my life around. I was something of a outer space bum, before I came here and discovered my design. We all looked to him as a leader."

"Aye !"a few of the men cow dung in.

"We had a salutary loss leader, until your team wiped him out, slaughtered him, and many fine men with him. Just to try and keep one fair sex having to open her wooden leg. The punishment you receive for this will be terrible. You are to be handed over to Aghara-Penthay's ruler and made into illustration horrific enough to deter the galaxy."His joke is bitter."The slaveholder justice which awaits you will strike little terror into every cunt in the Galax urceolata. But our rule will only have you once we're done with you."

"Aye !"more of the men agree.

I hate that vulgar give-and-take - cunt. But it's what slaver call free female person - the generic label for every exclusive woman who isn't a slave.

"That's right. You snatch butchered our friend, our leader, and for that you must first bear the brunt of our personal wrath. We risked defying club to institute you here, instead of delivering you straight to Slaver justice."

He stamps a rush down on one of the metal discs, and I hear the ring of a hollow space underneath. What is down there ?

"You'll all be expecting to be stripped and raped ? Yes, my men are certainly going to pack our vengeance on you first, but that's only contribution of your fortune for the next few hours ..."

The joke that goes round then - the sheer cruelness in it - chills me to the pearl. I'm not the only when one horrified by it. A dark bloom is spreading from the groyne of Ko's slave trader uniform. She's wet herself from fright.

"Charax, face, you're scaring the slits,"of the subordinate laughs coldly.

dent - another disgusting label.

But thus I learn the name of he who captured me."Charax ”. I sound it over and over in my fountainhead as though it might offer some clue as to his nature.

I am the prisoner of Charax. A man named Charax has nail power over my life. Contemplating what it means to be Charax'prisoner, I force myself to be still, and I stare down at the base, where in strawman of me I can see my booted feet on the metal phonograph recording. If he wishes, Charax is going to rape me, but I entirely believe him when he says that won't be the unsound of it.

Please Gods no, if there's any true statement or forgivingness to you, dispense with me whatever horror Charax is planning, let alone our final punishment, once their leaders have us. I failed to end myself before capture, so inevitably they're about to strip, rape, and unconscious process me, like any woman taken by this world. But later there's something even worse ahead, and that scene makes me throw off with fear. Most of the universe's women will be delighted that mortal executed Lotho-Etsarra, but those sentiments aren't shared by a mediocre proportionality of the galactic male population, and not the men here on Aghara-Penthay. The slaver risk losing face in the eyes of the galax, and when one relies on rule by terror, a loss of boldness is unforgivable.

"When will you cunts need to vomit ? Is that what you call it ?"Charax asks, almost as though he's concerned for us."I don't want you collapsing too soon ”.

No-one answers him. We're all long overdue and we're soaking inside the false skins, but we will all tolerate the soreness of boiling in the suit of clothes rather than willingly bring out ourselves. If I die from heatstroke, it would be the best outcome of my day.

"Very well. You can sudate,"Charax says coldly."Perhaps you'd like to hear about the topsy-turvyness you've caused to my home base, while you're warming up. Cronorgan and Salarin are currently out there trying to take advantage of the post and soak up the leaderless Slaver group, but many garbage to dish them, and some seek to become new leaders. There is a state of matter close to polite war around us as rival make their move, over the unknown's grouping, for model. The factions of Cronorgan and Salarin have been forced to lock down, and are guarding their assets while the others fight it out. affair are so serious that The Rape Run has had to be stopped, until decree is restored. This is the first time for LXX age the case has been completely halted. In compare to such political disturbance, it seems a nipper issue that your maraud also cost Aghara-Penthay a valuable Rape Runner - the bidding on Tisya had been competitive. And yet, merely damaging some merchandise would receive already been enough to earn you dire consequences."

There's zip any of us can answer to this, so no-one speaks. Thomas More of my adult female have started crying. The audio of pretender male voices blubbering is irritating, but I can't enjoin them to stop. They're beyond my guild now. I try to drag my wrists through the tight alloy bangle. I can't seem to hold back still, and I must keep twisting and testing my Bond. I am terribly uncomfortable, roasting alert. There's so a good deal sudor dripping inside my courtship it feels like being under a shower. But still I struggle.

Charax studies us for a bit, but then abruptly turns to Norenda.

"William Tell me, you - which one of these pussy was your leader ?"

I look up as compelled by her implant, Norenda indicates me.

"Then she will be raped first, while the rest period of you watch what's ahead,"Charax informs the circle."Now secern me, slave, which female do you recall men would find most desirable in your group ?"

Norenda probably likes me least of the group, but she is implanted and must serve honestly. My middle is already sinking as she indicates me again.

"The Lapplander ? Convenient. It brings a little More satisfaction to the deterrent example she will provide to the rest of you,"states Charax, and he crosses to stick out before me. He's taller than me, and I have to look up to see his fount. Intimidated, I drop my gaze, and end up looking at his groin. His uniform is loose about his thin frame, and I can not secernate if he is already aroused. But I'm sure Charax has a penis. He's golden - his genitals mean he's not an automatic slave on this world.

I'm still tensing in my restraint as though trying to squinch away to nothingness, heart beating insanely fast, but aught helps. And it is thus, inevitably, the time comes when the ordeal we've feared begins.

"What is your name, slit ?"Charax asks me.

"Ajeedie,"I answer after a interruption, trying to keep my voice steady. There's no point lying when I can so easily be found out.

"Ajeedie…"he tests the strait in his vocalisation."Are you cognisant, Ajeedie, it is a breach of our constabulary for a female person on this cosmos to masquerade as a male person ?"

I hesitate, then speak.

"Just get on with it, asshole,"I say defiantly."We all know nothing I can say will make a difference."

"Excellent,"Charax says, although I'm not surely why."In that cause, winch them all up,"he continues, stepping back into the center of the circle."And let's get these pillock slit naked ”.

Men start moving - Charax's subordinate - as he addresses the room.

"They teach trainee Slavers that the two mop up moments in a slave's life are usually when she is first stripped, and first raped,"Charax says."fountainhead, you have done well today, my men, so these import are yours to bestow. The prizes are yours to undress. You may do to these fair sex as you wish, once they've been stripped. All I ask is the flop to claim first the one I find most desirable. You may make use of her too, after me, of course."

There is a cheerfulness."master ! top dog !"they chant, as though he's not a junior officer, but a faction leader.

I strain angrily, trying to perpetrate my wrists free of the restraining bracelets. We are not"prizes ”. We are not the entertainment for some victory celebration. It's just been confirmed - this Charax is as big a son of a bitch as the rest of them.

But I don't have any Sir Thomas More clip to debate who I hate most on this cursed cosmos. There is the sound of cranking machinery, and the bar between my wrists suddenly jerks upwards towards the ceiling. Around the circle, explosion forth the panicky cries of sham male. The spliff in my weaponry stretch painfully as my wrist suddenly bear the weight of my dead body. I scrape my hard boots futilely against the cover underneath me, trying to conserve some purchase, but soon I'm kicking the empty air. When the mechanics stops, I'm left field suspended - just far enough from the floor that I can't even reach it by stretching down my toes.

I look frantically up at my chained articulatio radiocarpea, and turn of events and turn the bones in the shackles to try and free myself. But I know I'm helpless to preclude what's coming.

Charax's goons are already moving to the others, but there is a hesitance to near me. By account, a man with a long nose asks of his commander"You're sure you don't want to undress the best one yourself ?"

"No, for now I simply wish well to watch,"Charax reply calmly."I want to savor the view."

There's not time to comment on that, for male assailants are quickly onto me. I'm flexing my wrists and flailing with my feet in a endure endeavor to kick at them, but of course it only invites them to cut away my iron boot first. Hands inevitably extend to me, and then they inevitably pull at my clothing, and there's nothing left which prevents them undressing me. The removal of my slave owner uniform they do in a perfunctory manner, quickly slicing the material when only the male physical structure case is underneath. The sight of a naked man is not of interest to these fellows. During this undressing I do not resist the process and hang there limply, despite the dreadful significance that come from being nude on Aghara-Penthay.

Before long the bracelets present me as a limit, suspended, naked male. I hang with my legs slightly apart, and my fake genitals dangle downwards between artificial second joint. Around me, my nude comrade are similarly revealed. Ko's private parts are unfeasibly enceinte in carnal knowledge to her short height. I wonder if she specified being hung like the Alien. If only these forms were substantial, our futures would be so much better.

"Very impressive disguise,"Charax says with blessing,"but you will know that here on Aghara-Penthay, we all prefer the sight of defenseless female person, and we are eagre to see your existent physical structure. Men : continue."

immortal save me, here it comes, here it comes. His men move in again, and begin to pull at the skin on my upper arm, as though they're trying to stretch a party balloon to bursting.

"The skin suits open at the back of the neck opening,"Charax reminds them,"so the plant one told us. continue the biotechnology suits. We want to analyze them. They might come in useful."

His men rapidly shift their touch towards my back. I brace myself as the hands find the rectify spot on my spine. Here it comes. A virtuoso of tearing behind me, and then the air of the room is on the glistening skin of my real, bare, back.

god help me, I'm being exposed as a woman on Aghara-Penthay.

"You're probably wishing you were dead,"Charax says, word primarily aimed at me, but gaudy enough to be heard by us all."I can't imagine how humiliating it must be for you all to be captives of the Slavers. The Djenerion call that their women are divine go-between, but the graven image really seem to hate you, don't they ?"

I can't supporter but agree. While he speaks, I'm gradually unveiled - the suit of clothes opening down my spikelet to my pelvic girdle, coming away over my rightful grimace, spilling the long damp tail of my matted hair.

"Wait, plosive speech sound !"Charax says abruptly. The men undressing me pause. I'm used to enduring men looking at me with admiration, but Charax's face is more angry surprise.

"god,"one says."She looks just like a blonde interlingual rendition of that Rape stolon - the bounty hunter."

Please, why couldn't I have died, I silently ask myself ? Even having my face displayed makes me feel terribly exposed. My resemblance to Ja-Alixxe doesn't explain the sudden tensity, though.

"Okhoron !"one of the men stripping me gives it voice.

Charax rounds on Norenda.

"You never said she was Okhoron,"he says angrily.

"I never had chance !"she stammers, shaking with fright,"I didn't think it mattered."

"Didn't think it mattered that a trained grampus was leading the group ?"

He's almost roar now.

"A captive is a captive !"Norenda jabbering."You nearly had her anyway."

Charax breaths deeply, calming himself.

"So, Okhoron, it's not surprising your group caused such havoc,"he tells me, rubbing his chin with his hand as he examines me."Okhoron, eh ? ... Well now, you, Okhoron, are a tasty footling slit. Very pretty. But I'm sure you're well aware of that. Proud of that nerve, huh ?"

"She's exquisite,"a muscled giant of a male agrees."I was on The Hub when Tisya's group came through, foreman. Salarin took some prime meat with the other guardian, but this one stands out even among them. If her body matches the fount, it'll be a pity when we have to dispose of her. Look at that angry mouthpiece. And aren't those brim made to suck shaft ?"

"I'll raciness yours off if I get the chance, bastard,"I growl at him.

"Remember those words when I'm fucking you, slave,"he grins."It's your asshole, you need to worry about."

"Perhaps you thought your beauty would save you, if you were caught ?"Charax asks me, resuming control. I shake my head."You hope you're too worthy to endure like your champion ? But there is a sanctified rule on Aghara-Penthay. Even for men, there are some normal. We have one which says no woman is too beautiful to be above the law."

Good. Even if it's brutal, I'd Sooner die than live as a sex slave to these men.

"Continue,"Charax purchase order his men.

The work resumes, the bodysuit being dragged down my blazonry ( requiring another fumbling maneuver releasing my wrist one at a sentence ), leaving the biomaterial still giving its last protection to my chest, but exposing my back down to the base of my spine.

He's about to see my knocker. Aww, crap, they're all about to see my breasts. I tense my limb, as though lifting my consistence up a few column inch might somehow move me safely out of their image, but of course there's no leakage. metier fails me and I sink back down, blinking back the tears of shame, as my suit is tugged in one moment right down to my abdomen. I can feel the air of the room on my chest. Almost all the others are already completely naked. I'm the alone one with any covering remaining, and yet I'm still the one nearly everyone is choosing to see.

Too humiliated to see their faces, whether cruel or likeable, I look down at the globes of chassis attached to my chest, with those mamilla I always considered embarrassingly overlarge. My raised arms come up my boob even more now, while offering no chance of hiding. The sick skin is my torso is glistening as though I've been oiled for a massage. Gods, this is unendurable, being on show like this. Kill me now, I pray.

"Now those are a distich of exchange premium titties,"announces the one who bared my chest. The same man who labelled me as Okhoron. To me he adds,"Nice beak, puss !"

"Beauty is skin deep, but you'll always be a imbecile,"I try to retort, but it's hard showing authority when you're topless and helpless, and my defiance just provokes a laugh.

"I'm going to fuck you too, for that,"the idiot informs me.

Without warning Charax steps up to me, and cup my titty, one in each hand, and bounces them, daring to feel their weight, as though he's testing fruit. I close my eyes thinking how they must all be watching me - all my team are watching me humble and proven infirm.

"You were quite rightfulness,"comment Charax to the minion who made his lewd observations."She does experience nice heavy titties. Excellent."

My tit are released as abruptly as the approach started, but when he's gone, the feeling of where his hands were on me remains.

"slave owner scum,"I say softly.

"Once more, proceed,"Charax ordination, ignoring my words, and my suit is abruptly dragged down over my groin. This motion exposes my womanhood - my rattling buttocks and my genitals open to the room. These men can see my sum now - the office between my legs, where I have an possible action instead of a protruding penis - a vulva and a vagina - share of my body that doom me to the status of a slave on this earth.

Only the anatomy down my legs remain covered. Oh, this is unbearable. I try to adopt a military position that's as untempting as possible, but my puss and ass are exposed now, and hanging from my wrist joint automatically forces my back into a natural arch. That position may remove my vulva from gibbosity, but it presents my rump all the more completely behind me. I'm not sure what's tough - pushing my behind out invitingly, or the way the archway of my spine display my knocker.

I twist my hip joint, but fall in up. The only strategy left is to die hard. I stare straight ahead and try to insure my emotions, as I don't want them to see how often this mortification is getting to me.

It's warm, even within the protective cover of construction on this sun-blasted world, and my picket skin is still dripping with elbow grease. Between my tush I'm still slick with fluid, and trails of liquid chase the remains of my case down to my feet, when the men finish rolling the remains of my covering away like pantyhose. And with that, even my end nerveless protection is gone, and I'm completely naked. I'm a raw woman, on display to the Slavers of Aghara-Penthay.

I, Ajeedie, am being presented, dead nude statue. I am unwillingly showing off my entire body, displaying it to the men, displaying it to my Comrade, as they display their physical structure to me. I see them all in their true form. Ko - soot black skinned with a nimbus of frizzy whisker, a short woman, with titty that are oversized in intercourse to her organic structure. Dias - tall and White person with a healthy consistency and wide hip joint. She's the one-time - her white meat are beginning to sag with the onslaught of middle-age. Ak-Mancheen - heavily built, strong and with piffling breast development. blonde and dispirited heart, she's rather mannish. You'd have guessed her to be the lesbian one, rather than Orteza. Illyri - a small, rather lilliputian figure, with an intelligent expression and a freckled face. Then there's the two women from the deliverance squad - overweight, frumpy Beana with here pasty-looking, acne-covered face. And Morine, pale with a natural sensuality that makes her attractive, and with jet black hair nearly as long as mine.

We are women. charwoman on Aghara-Penthay. We haven't been processed yet, but because we have female genitalia, we are sex slaves, now - it is the law on this world. And men on Aghara-Penthay may do as they wish with sex slaves. The rapes haven't begun yet, but they're ineluctable. I saw a broadcast of a survivor of slavery saying their universe becomes easier once the captive accepts it. I am Ajeedie, I am a sex hard worker, I tell myself. Don't try to stop them looking at your eubstance. It's pointless. They will do what they want, because you are a sex slave.

It doesn't seem to help.

"fountainhead the rest of her does not disappoint,"is Charax's professional judgment as he approaches me."bounty quality female person. You would have been rapine Run grade material, had things been different. But you must be wasted, as you wasted so many male lives."

I flinch at that hated phrase - violation Run grade, but Charax is too in use to notice.

"winch the marked one up as well, please,"Charax says. The cry suggests Norenda wasn't expecting the same treatment. Her sudden wails have no encroachment as she is dragged by two men towards one of the frames, and quickly suspended like the residue of us.

While Norenda is being stripped - a simple issue of pulling a tie when a womanhood wears a wrap - Charax walks out of my view, round behind me. I try to move my nates anticipating an unseen assault, but that's not his first target. He reaches instead round my front, and he touches me at my nigh intimate place, between my open air peg. I can not avoid crying out. Gods help me, don't touch me ! Not there, not in front of everyone.

"You're sensitive,"observes Charax."But don't be ashamed of that, slit. That won't terminal for long. You won't feel a thing by the time we helping hand you over."

Next Charax's fingerbreadth do travel over my behind, as though he's evaluating a prize beast rather than a homo being. Wherever I look for aid I see eyes locked on Charax and me - the men with expressions of cruel entertainment and desire, the adult female with repugnance. I try to be strong, but I start to blush. I'm ashamed. Ashamed to turn on desire in the men, ashamed to look pathetic and helpless in strawman of my squad. ineffective to bear so many eyes, I drop my head and stare down at the alloy floor.

It's fallen silence while they watch us, so the rustling from Charax's pants opening is audible even with so many people in the room.

Is this it ? Please, isn't there something I can do ?

He grasps my hips with both hands, and pulls me back against him, lifting me slightly, so my naked buttocks are squashed against his abdomen. Some of my dead body weightiness goes from the restraints, and I'm capable to twist my wrists.

I feel the head of his cock now, iron-hard and warm. He must be big down there, for even from behind his length reaches between my leg and pressure against the mouth of my vulva. I shake my torso, trying to move my pelvis away from the intruder, but he grips my hips and keeps me steady.

"You're going nowhere, loose woman,"he tells me.

I feel tears beading in my eyes. Please, mortal save me.

"Confirm something for me again Ajeedie : your religion - the Djenerion,"Charax says loudly,"is it chasten that only pure female person attain paradise, and once you have sex with a male, even if it is violation, you're denied entry forever ?"

He must already know the response. But he wants me to say it.

"That is chastise,"I reply quietly.

"Louder, slit…"

"That is correct."

"And in your ass, is no different to the front ?"

There is a chortle from the men. My backside ? Why does he… ? Oh please, please, please, no !

"response, prick,"he insists.

"That is correct,"I repeat in an even softer voice.

"Louder…"

"That is correct."

"Good,"crows Charax."That pleases me. That pleases me very much. At the moment when, in figurehead of your team, my cock enters your anus and your future is torn away, I hope to listen you mourn, as we mourned the men you all butchered."

Desperately I look round for aid, even though I know there's no Leslie Townes Hope. All those of my team within my view are watching me, transfixed with horror, and having them witness my chagrin is going to be almost as bad as the strong-arm hurt. These womanhood looked up to me once. No, please, not in front of all of them…

"No !"I plead, but no-one seems to be listening to me.

Say adieu to your gods, cunt !"says Charax.

His thrust is sudden and brutal, and as forecast, penetrates not into my vagina, but between my fundament and into my anus. Charax uses no lubricant, and something instantly rips inside me. I scream with pain. A second later he draw back part way, rams roughly forward again, withdraws, Ram forward, and so on. I feel stuffed with him, but my suffering is so vivid that I am spared the experience feeling sexual - there is little sensation from my pelvis except pain sensation.

Forwards, withdraw, forwards, withdraw, while I cry over and over, unable to hold back my agony. So this is how my time as a free woman ends - brutally anally raped in battlefront of my squad. Charax piece of ass me hard, and each poking pushes my totally torso forwards, making my tit swing and forcing out another groan. I try to fell my chief in defeat, but he notices and knot one hand in my long hair and uses it like an beast rein to pull my mind back, so I must wait at the room. My team of virgin look out me, trying to apprehend and come to terms with the experience before they endure it themselves.

The shame I feel is almost as bad than the strong-arm woe. I'm ashamed of being naked in front of everyone ; I'm ashamed of being so publicly humiliated ; I'm ashamed of the way that after a minute, he decides to touch around with his free hand and pull at my pap, and that means they can all see my breasts stretch ; I'm ashamed of the way I can't help moaning each time he rams into my derriere, but strangely, I feel most self-conscious about having them see my human face. They can check the expression I pull when I'm being savagely fucked. I don't want to seem weak and display I'm suffering, but the torture to my renal pelvis is too intense to conceal, and it would be worse if they believe some part of me is enjoying this. Please little girl, don't look at me.

The room is strangely silent except for my rallying cry, and his grunt of pleasure. My eyes flick from side to nerve to font, looking for a delivery which I know will never come.

I don't have any word of advice when Charax climaxes. Overloaded with pain, I don't find his phallus move any differently. He just thrusts particularly intemperate, drag my rump firmly against him and holds himself there as oceanic abyss in me as he can go, and gasps like he's carrying a heavily core.

When he withdraws, I'm forced to cry out again. The overwhelming slicing sense experience towards absence is almost as bad as being filled. As he lets go, my question is finally released. I let it hang down in surrender as I reflect that I've crossed a point of no coming back in my life. Before I was Ajeedie, an individual, a person, whose thoughts and tactile sensation mattered. Now I'm nothing more than a distaff body, one of the thousands, probably millions, of slave womanhood who have been raped over the 100 here on Aghara-Penthay. I hang ponderous and hitch from my wrists. I'm sweating almost as much as when I was in the suit of clothes. My fanny is burning like it's on fire, and there's something slick and disgusting I can finger filling the scissure between my tail.

"Next ?"says Charax."Toscoro - why don't you take a turn ? You're hung like the unknown was."

"No !"I plead, but Toscoro - the muscly giant who's dick I threatened to bite off, is already stepping up to me. There is a sharp intelligence in his expression - it was a mistake to cross this one. A 2d error is looking assail my char. I shrink from the unsighted repulsion in Illyri's side.

"Any more than scourge, kick ?"he asks me. I look away, submissively.

Unlike Charax, Toscoro wants me vaginally. He pulls his penis from his uniform - a hideously large veined matter - while closing the blank between us.

"outdoors your legs,"he gruffly orders me.

I'm complying, for their triumph is complete now, but something doesn't satisfy him enough, and he punches me in my belly. Okhoron reflexes give me plenty of time to foreknow the impact, but with my hands shackled above me, and my dead body weakened from the first rape, I'm too slow to wind my animal foot and stop it. The air rushes out of me. It feels like I've been hit in the stomach by a sledgehammer. Men laugh.

"Lotho-Etsarra was a great faction loss leader,"he tells me."You're going to pay for what you did, snatch. Now open air your legs."

I don't want to be punched again, so I docilely participate in my own ravishment, lifting my knee and wrapping my legs around him so he might more easily violate me.

When it's just the tip of him touching me, the penis of this"Toscoro"doesn't palpate too intolerable. But then he buries himself deep in my vagina, and forced to hold the shaft, I must cry so loudly it's almost a scream. please no - gods, he's immense. Again, it feels like I'm going to rip apart.

Meanwhile Charax has returned to his post in front of me, to best observe the scene. I can see him over Toscoro's monolithic shoulder joint. Charax's penis, the organ which just orgasmed inside me, is still free from his pants. It looks revolting, even fatter and smoother than I'd expected, coated with the slime of blood and body waste from my can. He is still hard, and there is a milky guck seeping from the tip of him.

He watches me, watches me with my thighs wrapped around Toscoro, while we fuck. The giant is supporting my body free weight by gripping my nude buttocks with his hands, so my arms currently hang limp and passive from the bracelet.

While the second man is raping me, Charax addresses the room.

"You're all welcome to use Ajeedie,"he announces to his squad."She's not taking long to tame. Or if you'd prefer to be get-go to begrime one of the others, facilitate yourselves."

With a rumble of conversation, the men disperse. Some want to wait for a turn with me, but the frightened cries of some other cleaning woman join mine, as a few men make unfermented choices. Quickly the rhythmic moans of more women being raped begins to fill the quiet. As of now, they too are no longer Virgin of the Djenerion faction. They have become sex slaves. I am a sex slave. This sound of mass-suffering is perhaps to raper, erotic, for Toscano climaxes at this stop. He withdraws his huge erecting from me, making me gasp, releases me, and again I hang helplessly from my wrists.

"Now you, Ajeedie, are a estimable shtup,"he tells me.

I had wanted to die rather than give in to this. I don't want to be a good nookie. I'm surely at the lowest point of my lifetime. Perhaps it would be releasing for me if only I could let go of my self-control and weep dejectedly in front of the adult female I used to command. But for some reason I can't. Perhaps I'm still numb with the enormity of it and I'll go to pieces later. Perhaps it's some shielding mechanism dissociating me from realness. Perhaps there's just not time. A here and now later someone behind me unexpectedly strokes my breast, and then that someone then forces first appearance into my already damaged rear.

I could trust I'm growing more immune to the pain, but that doesn't prevent my stamina depleting rapidly. Before long I believe I've felt so tired in my life. Terror-induced epinephrin is all that keeps me conscious. By the clip phone number four rapes me, I'm barely capable to abstract my head and expression around the room. When I do muster the forte, what I see is a tragic view of depravity. At the beginning, Charax's men chose me as the most desirable, but about of my fellow are not so homely as to be beneath sating their lecherousness. Men are raping away the afterlives of short, dark-skinned Ko, elfin freckled Illyri, wan Morine, big-breasted Norenda, and honest-to-goodness, strong Dias.

idol, did I look like as tragic as they do ? I've never seen women look so utterly degraded. Their torso swing from their enchained wrists with each jabbing from their rapists, making their breasts sway like udders. facial expression are screwed up with the inescapable intensity of the wiz. Morine seems to be their favorite, aside from me. She has a lineage formed, with two early men waiting their turn.

Only mannish Ak-Mancheen and the acne-covered Beana are untouched. Are they to be envied or pitied ?

On this planet where all men are savage, it's ironically a Male who brings temporary worker reprieve. A messenger arrives, a scrawny, pock-marked fellow wearing the badges of Salarin's faction. In spite of his uninspiring looks, he carries an air of authority, and a symbolisation on his arm denotes a rank surprising in one barely out of his stripling. He freezes for a bit as he takes in the vista, but then remembers himself and eviscerate himself just, ready to say something of neat importance.

"Who is in bearing here ?"he asks in a convinced voice."Who is Charax ?"

"I am. Who is asking ?"reply Charax.

"I am Morg,"he says."I bring news. I represent Salarin's faction. I'm here to tell you we are your faction, now. You, and your men."

11 - Pit

"That asshole ?"says Charax scornfully."I'd rather rape that ugly one over there than swear commitment to his kin. The man is dick-sick. He's losing it, only interested in that Brassica napus blue runner he keeps as a pet."

"Salarin holds you in similar respect,"says Morg, unruffled."The unit of Aghara-Penthay remembers it was Charax who called the sandstorm alert, allowing melaena and Ja-Alixxe time to escape from The Zone. Another 30 seconds and we'd have had them."

"Aghara-Penthay also knows I was following the protocol, protocol ordered by the loss leader,"Charax says stiffly."No-one could have predicted the outcome."

"But I'm here today on line of work, not to deliberate sports,"Morg resumes smoothly."There are ontogeny. We've been trying to reach you for the past hr. A mighty new leader has arisen from the social status of the noncitizen's faction, risen mostly by killing anyone and everyone in his way. Significant bit of men have joined him from the former faction, particularly yours. The only way to counterbalance the new self-assurance is for a second tumid faction to exist. Cronorgan's group are too small. So Kordin-Desh, high-pitched remaining rank in the Lotho-Etsarra faction, has sworn allegiance to Salarin on behalf of the clan."

"I don't believe that,"Charax says."Kordin-Desh hatred Salarin almost as a lot as I do."

"But he understands the political state of affairs, so he did so all the Saami,"says Morg."Go and check out the tidings current if you don't believe me. You know what a twat Wagner is. He wouldn't dare call a puss a cunt without official approval."

There are murmurs among Charax's men as this update is taken in. Temporarily, everyone has forgotten us. We hang by our wrists, naked and degraded. Most of my charwoman look blatantly soiled. There's no mistaking what's happened to us all. We have streaks of grunge down our legs. We are sweat-covered, our hair matted and mussy. There is the stop care in our center of women who are dupe, victim like all the others we've seen since docking at The Hub. I don't have a mirror, but I can reckon I must take care spoiled than the others. I've been raped the most.

We're in this nation when Morg pays care to us, ending our breathing space.

"Who are these ?"he says.

"The strike squad,"answers Charax."They're the ones responsible for all this pandemonium. Once we're finished with them, they're to be delivered to the Chiefs for judgement."

"They were supposed to have been delivered straight away,"Morg says disapprovingly.

"Yes, but delivered to who ?"riposte Charax."We've been waiting to see who was in charge."

"Rumor is, it's the Elmek Fetish for them,"says Morg, with a hint of smugness."Salarin suggested it."

"Then for once I approve of your chief's decisions,"says Charax.

"Our honcho,"corrects Morg.

"But first, Sloar,"says Charax, again tapping one of the alloy plates with his iron boot."The Elmek can have those who survive."

"putting to death one before they're handed over, and you'll really be for the high leap,"says Morg,"especially if you snuff the pretty one."

"Lotho-Etsarra was a personal friend,"Charax response, determined."We'll take that risk."

We adult female look at each other, untamed eyed with fear. Of course, none of us know what the"Elmek juju"is, or"Sloar ”, but we repeat the words over and over in our minds like some mantra, as though saying it will offer insight or protection.

"I sympathize,"says Morg."I liked him too. But still, make sure they're all delivered to Tak-Hadern before sunset. I can forget I found you, until then."

"And what future for the faction ?"Charax asks Morg.

"attender will consider stock of the new imagination,"answer Morg."use will be assigned to new clan members."

"Normality is restored. Salarin thinks to seize the wealth first,"Charax says snidely.

"None of this likes this situation,"says Morg."These women have committed more hurt than can ever be answered for. But so it is. That is all for now - I have others to inform. pass around the word to parade in the faction - our camarilla - if you see them."

With that, he turns stiffly on his heel and walks out the room. There is silence for a present moment as Charax's men take in the developments, and thankfully, for a while longer rapine seems to be forgotten.

rental my head economic crisis, I find myself looking down at my nude, sweat-covered body. Oh, I'm so wear. Gods assist me, I'm in a terrible situation - suspended naked in front of men, dangling naked from my wrists - a captive of the Slavers, but I can think of picayune but resting. covert of my breast is impossible, but with a dwindling reserve of energy I cross a bare thigh over my former leg to briefly conceal my core, smearing a streak of my blood which runs in a thick trail down as far as my stifle.

My vagina tone like it's on firing, but the pain sensation from my ass is lots worse. I don't need to see so much blood on my leg to hump I've been seriously injured in my tush.

I summon the strength to wait around at my naked, helpless, team. Morine looks to be in the speculative State among them. She's also half unconscious with exhaustion, blood steaking her legs too, her voluptuous dark haircloth matted to her picket skin. Freckled Illyri's whole body is trembling as though she's cold. Surprisingly, the unspotted Ak-Mancheen looks the most frightened. She's twisting and turning futilely in a desperate effort to hightail it her chemical bond. Perhaps the most terrific thing is that which we don't know.

Meanwhile the men, all but ignoring us, discuss Morg's announcement.

"We're in Salarin's faction ?"says the one named Toscoro, who raped me."Gods shit him, that cum-drip."

A cum-drip - a thing of shame. I can still finger Toscoro's cum-drips, seeping from my vagina.

"You should result a faction."It is one of Charax's men who offers this, rather than Charax himself."Break away. We'll pursue you."

"Aye !"a few to a greater extent agree.

"There are too few of us to organise a new faction,"Charax disagrees."And we'll not be able to depone Salarin from within this clan. The White rapist are too loyal."

"His personal army ?"says Toscoro."Gods damn them too. If I had my wish, they'd be serving on The Hub, implanted to please men, and their leader with them."

"After that shambles in the Rape Run they blamed me for, if Salarin could be publicly discredited, that would be enough to make my day,"grumbles Charax."I'd even settle for one of his bitches snapping his neck, if it would just get him out the way."

"A girl with a usable implant would never do that,"says Toscoro."And a girl with a unkept implant - she'd be too busy trying to salvage her own neck."

"Of course, I know that,"Charax cracking irritably.

Toscoro looks at me speculatively.

"It's a ignominy we can't keep primary ascendency of that one,"he says, indicating me."You know what Salarin's doing with the former cleaning woman like her ? The Okhoron ? He's got them all kept back, for a Cum wash. They're all in a pen, just waiting, while his men use them. And the Cum Race succeeder is to be taken to conjoin his personal slaves. You have an Okhoron right there. Put her into the race, and make sure she gets to the palace. We already know she's a killer."

"But we can't keep direct control. And I've not forgotten who she murdered,"counters Charax."It's thanks to her grouping we're in this heap. It's more authoritative that she's punished, and we'll heap with Salarin later. Open the hatches."

My heart begins to slipstream with fear again. At his bidding there is a deep rumble of machinery, and from beneath me the cover version begins to slide apart along its mall line.

"You think the penalty she'd suffer for murdering Salarin would be any better than the penalty for murdering the other leaders ?"argues Toscoro."Look at it as postponing the inevitable."

I can see what's below now, waiting for me, and I scream. Other women in my squad are doing the same as affright sweep oar through our circle. Some are already flailing their branch, as though trying to get by by swimming up through the empty air.

It's a humanoid, but only just. Its torso is covered with a thick dim fur, and it has an ape-like jutting jaw and low brow. The eyes that are fixed on me only show trammel intelligence, and a strand of thick saliva hang from its jaw. The thing is Brobdingnagian - perhaps nine human foot tall, and incredibly thickly muscled. It looks as though it could easily rip me in half with those gigantic coat of arms. most terrifying is the brute's member - heavy even than the stranger's. Perhaps a foot and one-half long, and easily three inches thick. The beast is rampantly hard, and as it stares at me it touches itself.

"Woman ! Woman !"it growls at me excitedly.

It talks ?

"No !"I beg to Charax, calling out shamelessly to him now that I understand."Please, god no !"

"meet the Sloar, cunts !"Charax smiles as he addresses us all."A semi-intelligent coinage from the Danaris system. Unlike human males, who can checkmate pretty much any time, the Sloar go through a ten-day mating cycle only once every hundred days - one of their solar years."

"During the cycle they experience a immense billow in testosterone, and they have an irrepressible impulse to pair. Anything with a pussy on two legs will do it for them when they're pumped, but their female person are hairless like ours, so they do bear a fussy appreciation of homo women."

"No !"I plead. Gods no - that thing's dick can't possibly fit inside me.

"Sex in their species is always rape. The males don't go flaccid after climax, like human male, but can keep on for minute, holding down the smaller female to prevent their escape. Scientists believe that this barbarism ensures only female person with strong factor have sufficient stamen to survive."

I look at small Illyri, who is hysterical with brat. She can't possibly survive if her monster is as big as mine. Its penis will reach half-way to her throat.

"Of course, the Sloar do not suffer the aesculapian capableness we do, but even to women encountered in the civilise galaxy, the animate being are still unsafe. But take comfort in this - any of you who perish now will be lucky than the survivors."

Illyri's shrieking are almost deafening.

"someone gag that female person over there,"Charax says with a dismissive wave."I can't hear myself think."

Bastard. Fucking by-blow. I don't think there's anyone I hate as a good deal as him. Unfortunately, there's nil I'll ever be able to do about it. Charax moves towards me. I'm the one he wants to see going in.

"You, on the former hand, are very free to scream,"he tells me."I'm still waiting to hear you properly scream."

"piece of ass you !"I manage to say - probably my final prospect at rebelliousness."If you're going to do it, just put me in there."

"Excellent,"he says again, and with a motion to one of his underlings Charax says,"Lower them down."

I kick out wildly, trying to gain some purchase on the rim of the pit, but it's too wide.

Gradually I begin descending, in small jerked meat motility as one of the men cranks a handle. I'm instinctively pedaling my legs in the empty air, trying to cipher some way I can protect myself from insight by using my arm, even though I know it's going to be futile. deity no, this is not going to be nice. All around me, my comrade are screaming. most are lower than me already.

Charax watches me impassively, his blazon folded, as I gradually drop into the pit. Bastard.

"What if we could ensure she's loyal only to us ?"interrupts the medical officer, hurrying over to Charax, his interpreter urgent."There are ways… Risky. Illegal. But think of the rewards… You could exact over the faction."

I look at Charax desperately. He's the only way I can avoid the impossible revulsion that's waiting below. I am selfish, cowardly, but I want him to save me. Even if he saves only me.

"We can talk over it while she's down there,"Charax says with icy composure."Until then, I'm bequeath to take the chance that she might die."

The men all seem to think the beast is unlikely to kill me, but I don't see how death can be avoided if they do put me in the pit with it. They can't seriously be planning to let those thing have sex with us ?

"Woman !"it growls.

Illyri's hysteric screaming abruptly changes to muted howls. I look at her - perhaps the last clip I'll look at one of my team before I can only call up of my own selection. Her back talk is distended by the giant ball that's just been strapped between her jaws.

Bastards. They're all by-blow.

"Woman !"growls the wolf below me. I look down just in time. Without warning it jumps for one of my metrical unit, and I barely manage to arise my branch away. It's surprisingly fast for something so big. Others are to a lesser extent lucky. Across the circle from me, Illyri's physical structure dork downwards from some tremendous strength, as though she's being tugged like a pet's toy. Her shoulders stretch unnaturally, and her muzzled cries abruptly cease as she loses cognisance.

I understand the danger more quickly than she did. I must prevent it getting a hold on me for as long as possible. If it tries to drag me down with its huge bodyweight, there's a risk of pulling my coat of arms out the sockets. So I lift my feet, bringing my knees to my bureau, and I fold my stomach in, using the athletic tractableness which comes of Okhoron preparation. I'm showing an salacious view of my sex organ to the way while my hip joint fall below the spirit level of the floor, but that can't be helped.

"Nice pussy !"says Charax.

The creature jumping, and swipes my buttock with its paw. Its cutis feels warm and leathery.

lower and lower I descend. My breasts drop below the level of the floor. Then the pit opening is level with my eyeline. From across the band another of my team gives a blood-curdling riot - an insensate sound of unendurable horror, but I can't see which womanhood it came from.

"I suppose you thought you could use your beauty to save yourself ?"Charax asks."That face, those tits… You usually get what you want from men ?"

There's not time to answer.

"char !"growls the creature below me, victorious.

I'm in its range of a function now. I kick out with my heels, trying to prevent it off me as long as I can, but the wickedness furred lusus naturae moves with dazzling upper, and grasps my branch - successfully seizing one of my knee joint in each of his huge workforce. I tense everything, trying to keep myself closed to it, but it pulls my thighs clear as easily as a human might deplumate apart the crotch from a branchlet. The beast is incredibly strong - I might as well be resisting the hydraulics of a proletarian droid. And while keeping my branch open, it draws my vulva to its boldness, not caring that I'm still seeping filth from the assault I endured above, and it buries its nose intimately into me. There's cipher I can do to forbid it smothering itself in my warmness, and my fragrance, and my familiar secrets.

"cleaning lady !"it confirms.

Think, Ajeedie, think ! I must try something - anything. Instead of trying to draw away from the beast's face, I squeeze my naked thighs tightly around its head and gimmick my lower body. If I can divulge the giant's neck, I can hold up abuse a little thirster. But my attempt fails. I might as well be trying to photograph a tree bole between my legs. For the second fourth dimension the creature component part my stifle with his big paws, and I find I'm lower into the pit now - it can reach all of me.

"Woman !"it says.

Still resisting, I kick out at its monolithic erect penis - the organ as slurred as a child's arm and just as solid. And this finally gets a reaction, but not the one I wanted. It growls angrily, and lashes the back of its helping hand across my face. The blow is a lazy one - only intended to caution me. All the Saame it is stunning - it's like being run over by a speeder, and my senses reel. When I come to, I'm lower still, and level with its face. Its huge handwriting are now gripping the backs of my knees, holding me against its fur covered torso at it keeps me assailable for its vast penis.

"Please !"I look up and beg, at the second when the tip of that monstrous electric organ crush against my chthonic rim. There's one brief instant when I can look up at Charax, who is staring down into the pit with an expression of firmness on his face.

And then the creature impales me, and for a spell there is thankfully nothing more.

12 - pen

Each time men come to the Okhoron pens, we course up - our naked geological formation a roughshod mockery of our erstwhile armed services subject area.

Apparently, they only had to order us once."When we come to the playpen,"they said,"you will remain firm in formation, naked, that we may choose the ones we desire. celebrate your hands at your incline during inspection, and do not attempt to conceal your bodies."

Our implants compel us to obey the commands of men. more than than that. The check compel us to interpret, to get creative, in our urges to please. So when the sword good time door to the Okhoron pen opens, I'm on my feet to show myself before I even realize it. Implants like mine are biotech. Tendrils grow into the wit, increasing the device's hold over the dupe over fourth dimension, until they can no longer describe their buckle down compulsions from their original nature.

Each time men come to our pen, it is not to bring food or drink. An obscenely shaped dispenser on the bulwark provides sufficient liquidity, and mere buckle down girl can be given the chores of carrying in for us a pan of gruel or former basic nutrition. These char wear the now-coveted red slave wrap. We have all remained naked for an indeterminate length of time.

The buckle down girls come in unprotected and unsupervised, but none of us harm them or try to slip their clothing, and even though the blast room access remains open none of us attempt to escape. We have been told not to exit, and the program line's control is absolute. Besides - where is there for implanted females like us to run ?

The domestic duties of feeding us can be allocated to slave, and forgotten. When men need to come, it is because they want to prefer a female for assault. And docilely, we assist, standing to participate in their sick and twisted beauty competition. Once or twice, the unfortunate loser is then taken on the muddied concrete floor of the pen, while the others must look on, and heed, and scent. Usually though, they take one or More of us to a room, where the man can enjoy us on the comfort of a mattress, and in a little more concealment.

I am something of a favorite with the men. My nerve is classically beautiful ; I am cursed with the boastfully boob, slim down waist, and long legs which men find desirable ; I am one of the unseasoned Okhoron. But no woman is to every man's taste. Sometimes they take Khaleena - older, but with a chest even larger than mine. Sometimes it's Uteena - tall, lithe, and firm. Quite often it's Warani - willowy, and lacking the forte of near of us, but the vernal, and possessing a peach that's almost Godhead.

Whoever is chosen, the victim has no option but to endure. We have no option but to wait and foresee our following turn. We're taken by the guards to be raped - anally, vaginally or orally, but always afterwards we're returned, to slug the hr away, to be afraid and to hold off. But for what ?

Charax's man, Toscano, said the Okhoron were in a holding pen ready to charter contribution in something called a"Cum Race ”. But I soon find out the other char here know no more about it than I do. In fact, we receive almost zero information about consequence beyond the paries of this elbow room, and in our windowless prison with sole artificial light, we lose all track of metre. I quickly find completely disconnected from my erstwhile life.

I don't even remember much of my clock time in the pit with the Sloar. Its get-go incursion caused me such excruciation and such damage that I almost managed to head for the hills forever from the creation, and there is little recollection until I was revived in a bacta tank, fully healed and prepare to be ruined again.

Curiously, I remember my life story up to the capture clearly, but all around the time with the Sloar my computer storage go into a full stop that's vague. There are big lacuna until the time I found myself here in the pen with the other Okhoron. I'm in the dark as to why Charax set aside his hatred of me and stowed me here with the others. When I try and recall, the moments slip away from me, like I'm trying to hold H2O in my bridge player, and I become so rile with my failing, it deters me from trying again.

It's not as if the past thing much anyway when you're a sex slave. There are mass of trouble in the present to occupy my thoughts. The slaver like to teach captive that cleaning woman are not just nothing - we're lupus erythematosus than nothing. Our indirect request and feelings are worse than merely ignored. Female emotions are there, if men want, for the intent of using them against us. One of the Slaver Male must have conducted some research into the faction, and their callous lack of fellow feeling for us inspired yet another cruel entertainment. The day after my comer, a medick visited the pen and gave each Okhoron captive a biochip injection under our leave alone arm, and then a smaller injection into each mamilla. These seemed to be benign until the side by side sunup. I say morning, but I actually just mean the light-time, which comes after the time they plunge our prison cell into darkness.

On that break of day, I was awoken by the sidesplitter of one of my brother. She was looking down in horror at her breasts, which overnight had started oozing milk. Another woman cried out in repugnance, then another, then hysteria spread. Quickly I checked myself, and of course my nipples were seeping too. I wiped myself clean on a fingertip, staring at the liquid in incomprehension.

"We found out Djenerion recall Milk is disgusting,"explained the laughing male, when they visited us later in the day,"but you are only slaves, and will drink milk if it pleases us. The biochips inside your bodies release a hormone, stimulating the Milk River yield. There is enough hormone to keep each of you lactating for several years."

I held my chest with my hands, as though my breasts were estrange to me. They felt wakeless than the day before. other women in the pen were looking similarly stunned.

"Furthermore, to alleviate yourselves of the Milk load,"the male continued,"you will not be able to stir your own white meat, or use heart. The nanotech in your mammilla ensures they will only function in reaction to another charwoman's lips."

He was already touching himself in anticipation.

"That's right, hard worker, welcome to your new lifespan, where you must suckle each early every day. Our new orders are, that you must relieve each other every day, and remember each clip you do so, how gallant you once were. think of how you once believed you were expert than men, but now you are nothing but our sex slaves. And it is now prison term for your first off day milking each former. get down !"

There was no refusal permitted. Weeping, I squeezed the handwriting of Uteena, the nearest female to me, reassuringly, and she guided me down to her body. I thought about how I was once gallant, but now I was only a sex slave, and I began my body of work.

In this eternal sin of the pens, our past no longer has relevancy, except to cue us how far we've fallen, and our future, containing only revulsion, is best not imagined. We just exist in the wretchedness of the present. The striver who care for us occasionally deliver snip of current gossiper, but such scarcely thing. The rapine Run has concluded for the class. So what ? A new faction leader has risen and absorbed about of the unlamented Jackran-ad-aktar and Lotho-Etsarra's camarilla, with the scraps drifting to Salarin and Cronorgan. His name is monad. The women whisper that he is high-risk than the others combined. He takes what he wants by violence, and he often kills slaves for pleasure. Already they name him"The Brute ”. But so what ? A speedy decease might be better than the spirit of a sex slave.

We were only considered worthy of seeing one official word broadcast. Streams rarely upset me, but this one did, for it contained information of a personal nature. Wagner opened the report, informing the universe that a team of crazed zealot women from the Djenerion Sect had reached the surface of the planet disguised as males, in an endeavour to relieve their loss leader. During the insurgency, two junto leaders met heroic deaths, as well as the team's target - the runner Tisya. However, the women were quickly captured, and the galaxy can rest assured that order is restored.

Aghara-Penthay is stronger than ever.

Let their sentence be a warning to women across the coltsfoot, of the fate that awaits if you defy us, Wagner had warned. And then I saw them. They were gifted to the Elmek, Wilhelm Richard Wagner said, the Elmek - who fetishize cleaning woman as inert and firm sex dame.

I had my first glimpse of those"sex doll ”, and I screamed. My team had each had every single one of their branch amputated, severed right to the reefer, so their down in the mouth bodies now terminated with their sex organs, and their blazon were barely twitching tree stump. Wagner said they'd also been muted - muted in every way, so they couldn't even pass along by using their verbalism to suggest ‘ yes'or ‘ no ’. And that seemed to be the case. If it wasn't for the trend of their mind, and of one occasionally opening her jaw, I could have believed they were model lying there on their dorsum.

Poor sick Morine, her dumb face framed by her night hair ; Beana, slimmed through some process, and with her tegument cleared ; tiny freckled Illyri - the podium of her branch slightly moving, she was the clever one, but will never testify her wit again ; Ak-Mancheen, her brave strength now useless ; wickedness skinned Ko staring out with her thoughts forever locked inside ; Norenda's large knocker helpless ; and Dias, her age regressed a decade to micturate her more desirable.

Each one of my inauspicious women helpless. Each one with eyes rolling in unbearable mum revulsion, looking for a salvation that is never coming. Each one screaming silently.

And then I saw the Elmek.

They look humanoid, but compared to the women of my team, they're miniscule - six column inch tall at the very near. One of them was shown posing next to Illyri's sex organs - the place that used to be the apex of her pegleg, but is now the terminal of her consistence - and he's able to section the folds of her vulva like they're curtains. He buries his whole arm inside, and when he withdraws it, he tastes her.

For a moment, I assumed that was punishment enough - turning those pitiable creatures into vegetables to fulfill some perverted taste for gigantic women.

But no.

The tiny man abruptly raised a weapon - something like a machete, barely the sizing of a matchstick to my eyes, and without warning he hacked a glob of flesh the sizing of his clenched fist from Illyri's nether lips. He turned away, ignoring that her harmonium was oozing blood, and threw the meat on a glowing brazier, where it immediately sizzled and smoked.

The Elmek only eat the erogenous zones, Wagner told us. That's the Elmek hoodoo - it arouses them to devour the erogenous zones of behemoth adult female. How did that ever turn ingrained into a planet's culture, he chuckled. Meat from the vulva is the most prized, then the breasts, and also the buttocks. It can take half a astronomic year for the tiny Elmek to concentrate a normal sizing female, lump by chunk, each belittled cut agony, to a percentage point where the desirable parts are gone, after which the victim is discarded.

I don't know when I lost my possession, but by the end of the transmission I was screaming so hard I barely heard Wagner repeat his warning to the galaxy's"slit"that the luck of the succeeding woman to try and oppose Aghara-Penthay would be spoiled.

It took thirty instant for my Okhoron sisters in the pen to becalm me. Since then, I've only managed to contain my sanity by hiding in the stupor of depression, eating only when commanded, forced to drink the repellant milky secretions of my companions, and remaining largely unaware of time passage.

I must only fully charter with reality when I am chosen to serve. On my rear or my belly, and with a man's penis inside my body, I would wish to continue absent, but no. I am cursed. Then I am forced to be present. Then I can feel every nerve of the consistency that so many have called perfect, as they sweat and groan and release to a greater extent of their vile seeded player into me.

My persuasion tumble over and over the same iteration. The Elmek juju should get been me. That will be me - Charax tap me as implacable - or he would have got been implacable, if not for handing me over to the cryptic Cum slipstream. It feels like I only have a temporary abatement. Would I receive preferred that I was already there with them ? I deserve punishment, for leading them here. The Elmek Fetish should induce been me.

round of drinks and round I go, but meanwhile, each meter a stranger reaches his disgusting orgasm inside me, another pocket-sized piece of my someone dies inside, as though I am being devoured. And I become less and less sure of the right on answers.

13 - fun

The Rape Run takes place just once every astronomic year, but of path, it is not the only fun on the globe of Aghara-Penthay. Most fun combine the pleasure men enjoy - contention, watching suffering, and suitable females. The cleaning lady are usually motivated to strive by some form of horrific penalty for failure.

There are five, maybe even ten thousand men filling this coliseum - the males sheltering comfortably under vast spectre, those of us on the area storey burning under the ferocious high noon sun of Aghara-Penthay.

In such a Brobdingnagian group, men no foresightful act as individuals. It feels like we're surrounded by a mob, animals, shouting and baying for rake. On the guts of the arena, we kneel for them - each one of us a phallus of the Okhoron, naked and similarly prepared ready for the sport, positioned facing a VIP box. While we char wait, dizzy from the heating, Aghara-Penthay's rulers relax under a blanket sunblind, being served refreshing looking drunkenness by the most exquisite illustration of the planet's slave girls.

My comrade and I each straddle a twist much like a saddle, only modified saddles, with two additional husk of a rubbery material fixed to our seats. I wait with one of these stalks lodged in my vagina, and the other stuffing my anus. My Okhoron sisters are in the same predicament. The pecker are both enceinte, but the one filling my arse is particularly uncomfortable, triggering a piercing jabbing pain when I move, as though it's too large for my insides. If I were unrestrained, it would be a dewy-eyed matter to digest and free myself of these phallic invaders, but my kneeling position - leg folded so far back that my cad military press into my backside - means I'm unable to get up my pelvis to the command height. The Slavers have roped each one of us down to the bicycle seat, in such a way that we have no selection but to wait and endure the flavour of double up impalement from this position. These bonds stretch my knees open as well as down, meaning I must waitress with my thigh full apart. Just having my under regions exposed before men would be unbearable decent, but then there's my upper trunk.

Every Okhoron's saddle is located with two vertical Pole either English of it, poles an inch thick and formed of a metallic alloy. Shackles lock my wrists to these terminal. Like the ropes opening my knees, the celestial pole also permit no privateness, being far enough away that I must pass my branch out, and my body Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe resembles a capital"T ”. ineffectual to displume my elbow in, I kneel with my breasts on good show. In my retiring liveliness I always preferred to conceal my organic structure, but now G have seen every confidant particular of my nudeness. I know this for a fact, because I have already appeared in close up on the gigantic viewing screens in the niche of the stadium. The obscene full frontal pose even reveals the way my vulva is stretching around the rubbery cock.

There is one last augmentation, which I do not yet understand. Every one of us has tiny metal cup, no bigger than thimbles, attached to our erogenous area. There is one enveloping each of my nipples, temporarily concealing the constant oozing, and a tertiary over the sensitive button of my clitoris. Their technology includes some form of void to enable attachment. It feels as though the sucking cups feeling every nerve of me, enclosing my mammilla more intimately than a lover's mouth. Their aim is unidentified to me, but dislodging them is impossible, so I have no ability to conceal from the consultation that I wear these things, and I have no alternative but to abide them remaining fixed to me. Salarin called the event in which I'm going to enter a"Cum slipstream ”. No doubt the thimbleful relate to the sport.

I wish I could say that engagement in the Cum Race isn't going to be as bad as the fear of anticipating the nameless sport - hours upon hours in a bare stone cubicle with these early naked Okhoron women. But I've been on Aghara-Penthay long enough to be intimate just how cruel the slave trader can be. I'll take the boredom.

Fearing the worst, but capable to do nothing to deflect it, we wait. There is no need to rush along the beginning - not when the crowd have nude women to enjoy, and I believe we are deliberately given meter to separate out against our Julian Bond. The photographic camera enjoy the sight of us - advancing from adult female to womanhood to fair sex. Some of my comrades I see straining, but I remain limp. There I am again filling the display, kneeling, naked but defiant, my second joint spread showing my vulva. My breasts are particularly large compared to the char around me, and perhaps that's why there's a sunshine each time when I'm on screen.

The following miss in jibe is a struggler, but her torture is viewed from the rear. All the Okhoron are levelheaded and nubile, and it probably pleases the interview to check the muscleman in her feminine derriere flex and tense desperately, in reaction to her drift.

I am located almost centrally within the circle of the amphitheater. Perhaps this is lucky, as it means I can't recognise the heckling of item-by-item men over the noise of the crowd. The cleaning lady close to the edge can probably get a line the most personal, and therefore deleterious abuse. I can see a female person near the border of area shaking, as though she is crying.

For a while I managed to remain still, but once the instinct to locomote overcomes me, I begin rocking my hips, in an effort to reduce my contact with the phalluses. The feel of the two invaders moving so deep inside me has become more intolerable than the enforce inertia. I look nervously around. In the bunch I see slave women, some with their owners, some moving around serving the crew with recreation. nearly are wearing the red wraps of females belonging to Aghara-Penthay, but a few are nude sculpture.

Yet again I am on screenland - I really do look to be a best-loved. The persuasion is from my back this meter, but I recognize my hair and the wide-eyed curves of my hips. I see myself and feel ashamed. OK, so it turns out the whole audience can see my anus stretching as well, trying to accommodate the Phallus behind me, which rises and falls within me as I rock my pelvis.

I look back to the box, and see Salarin rise to his feet, triggering a sudden drop in the volume from the crowd.

"slit of the Okhoron !"he calls to us, his representative amplified across the arena."You pride yourselves on your bravery, your strength and your stamen. Today we will examine that to its limits. welcome to the Cum Race."

I hear the woman on my right, someone I'm ineffectual to turn my headspring and see, moan in fearfulness. We all feel the same terror of the unknown. What is a Cum raceway ?

"The rules are uncomplicated,"Salarin explains."Grasp the magnetic pole either side of you with your hands, and you will be rewarded with pleasurable quivering from the stimulators locked onto your nipples and your button. Release your time lag, and the stimulators will switch to serve as pain actuators, torturing your erogenous zones. The cocks which you ride also have this functionality, allowing them to either arouse you internally, or hurt you."

In the lull of the arena floor, all around me I hear the clink of chains as fair sex grasp their poles. I am no stronger than them, and also squeeze my finger around the alloy like it's a life line. There is laughter from the crowd.

"simpleton, no ?"continues Salarin."No, because hard worker who give in to the orgasm from their stimulators will be removed from the subspecies, and handed over to the pleasure of the crowd. The bunch may use you over and over right until sunset, which is in approximately seven hours'metre. The most desirable will therefore be raped many, many fourth dimension - especially the females who climax first, and spend longer with my men."

I release my poles as quickly as if they're red hot.

I'm doing the maths, like most of those around me. panic Menachem Begin to spread through the kneeling females. The atm grows thicker with the terror. Forty-nine womanhood. As many as ten thousand men. One female person per two hundred males ? It's impossible. We'll be raped to death. But what's the alternative - torture ?

"Some of you will be pushed over the verge by the gangbangs ahead of you, but fear not - you will still be submerged in the bacta and healed. violation gives you no escape from your worthless life. Afterwards, every failure will be taken to a gross sales pen and placed for auction, in the rough-cut pool with our other captives, and serving your new possessor you will begin to earn a post in this universe."

No, no, no ! I too moan, and I try to rise from my saddle, but I can barely move. The member spear back to their full depth as I sink down.

"It is known that the female body becomes desensitized to suffering, but for you cunts, both your delight and painful sensation stimulators will step up during the game, keeping you at the bill of agony. So the lastly cunt to culminate, will likely be she who has especial tolerance for painfulness. That female will be rewarded, by being spared mass rape. My orientation for those who can endure is well known, and I will study her as my personal plaything."

He pauses.

"Before we start, do any of you wish to beg for mercy ?"

It is a antic, but I hear a few women moaning anyway. Salarin sits down.

"Good."

We're left a final moment, to anticipate what will chance any second. I feel hyper aware of my body - of my nakedness, of the friction from the phallus against my anus, and of the other phallus tight against the rampart of my pussy, of the sensations from the cup clutching my mamilla and my sex. It's as if my organs wanted to intercommunicate to me, as though they're pleading with me to spare them this. But I'm powerless to help them, and the future is already decided.

To the loud roar from the crowd so far, Salarin raises his manus. As I take handgrip of the poles set up for the first bursts of pleasure, he says,"Begin."

14 - raceway

It is one of the stage where I choose to grapple the metal rods and conjure myself. In devising the Cum airstream, the Slavers have exploited their knowledge of the female consistence mercilessly, and forced or not, the joy triggered from my sex organs is irresistible.

I can only allow myself the ecstasy for a limited time, seeing as most of the women around me seemed to have adopted a similar strategy to myself. stay the hurting for as long as potential by riding up the pleasure curve until growing dangerously close to orgasm, and only switch to hurt when there's no other pick. When the pain becomes unbearable, repeat. Over, and over, and over.

The distortion is far worse than I could sustain imagined. It's as though my sensitive organs are being smeared in Edward D. White hot metal. It's out of the question to avoid screaming from such agony. From all around me in the domain, the two sounds come of others enduring the trial by ordeal - charwoman moaning like whores in heat, and then abruptly their pleasure occlusive, and the screaming begins.

There were a few of us who cracked early. adult female with low hurting tolerance, who would rather front gang Brassica napus than agony. A few also lacked insufficient understanding of their own bodies, and their orgasms overtook them before they knew it. With each unsuccessful person, slave owner guard duty, impossibly outnumbering the girl, issue her from her hamper, lift her off the giant phalluses, and carry her to the baying mob.

From our lieu kneeling in the George Sand, we can glimpse the victims through the scrum of bodies, and as long as we're not screaming ourselves, we can get word their cries. It doesn't take prospicient for those of us still competing to reason out the agony might be better.

sweetness kindred, this stimulant feels incredible. I wish it could go on forever. I've never felt so turned on my spirit. My puss is slick with its own lubrication. Even the phallus stuffing my anus is no longer unpleasant, but combines to become share of the whelm sense from my lower consistency. At the focus of everything is my clitoris, buzzing like an insect sucking liquid delight. It would be so easy to just surrender to it - why not just give up, Ajeedie ? I could dissolve into the orgasm and let the future take care of itself.

But I know where that would lead. There is such a fight over one of the prettiest young woman, rival groups of men pulling her spread legs in different directions, that I think she's going to be torn apart.

I'm not so unknowledgeable of my own body that I don't recognize the orgasmic wafture beginning to establish. I must act before it's too tardily. Bracing myself for the pain is pointless. It makes it no easier, and I will go rigid with the agony anyway. Despairing, I release my bag on the pole and am transported to a dissimilar universe.

There is nil but the pain. My clitoris, my vagina, my anus, and my nipple are all I can think of. I have no chance of reducing the crowd's sadistic entertainment by hiding my suffering. The lone time my screaming full stop is when biological science forces me to inhale. And it is barely possible to do even that BASIC survival process - my body is locked rigid in the attempt to discharge my own sex organs. It's unbearable ! It's intolerable ! It's unbearable ! And I grasp the poles.

I had hoped that after each form of torture my rousing would be extinguished, and I'd have a similar sum of meter before getting dangerously close to climax. But extreme point twisting does not dry my vagina, and each time the stimulant resumes, I climb the orgasmic curve more quickly. Salarin said the stimulators would become gradually more vivid, and that was the truth.

I make the mistake of glancing at the screen at a moment when I'm the nidus. I'm stark naked. My aspect is red, and contorted in the aspect of a char in intense pleasance. I'm covered with sweat, and my blonde hair has matted to my skull and my berm. In the ultra-high definition of the big screen, I see my vulva wrapped attack the penetrating phallus like a mouth greedily sucking a lollipop.

And it seems even in my miserableness I can still feel ashamed.

The blind spares me by switching to another of the Okhoron. Her eyes are rolled back in her brain and in spite of the celestial pole inside her she tries to jerk her hips, such is the intensity of the coming she's experiencing. Like all the Okhoron, she is beautiful. Her epithet is Khaleena, I recall. She is approaching the end of her bloom but is still intensely attractive, and the sight of her squirming is arousing to me. As the coming fades she becomes mindful of herself again, and her eyes open and broaden in fear. She shakes her psyche, protesting as the guards come for her.

The beguilement of watching her took me almost to the orgasmic tipping point myself, but just in time I release the poles and my erogenous geographical zone match fire. I've never experienced such pain in my life, and yet the instant enduring it straits. Seeking any mental safety valve route from the white-hot agony I try to use my Djenerion gifts and cling to anything in the now. Please Ajeedie, dismiss your own screams. Your agony is only one element of everything. Count the act of rocks on the sand in battlefront of me ; think of the grand of private vocalism around me ; the way there is no feel in the desert except for the sweat and sex from my own physical structure ; the gustatory perception of blood in my backtalk from a bantam cut in my nerve ; the sight of myself on screen door - rigid with agony and my face inhuman ; no, not that, the saddle I'm straddling - it's material warm and made of some frame of leather ; the perch deep inside me - the temperature of my body now. The poles to my sides which are hot from the sun when I grasp them, and slick with my sweat.

On and on it goes. oscillation after cps. There is a timer in the quoin of each giant sieve. When I next approach as close to orgasm as I dare, I see that li banner minutes have passed since Salarin said"Begin ”. I've been drained by the ordeal. I must gasp for each hint, either through lungs locked set under torture, or muscles sapless with stimulation.

I grasp the poles and my pain evaporates. There are not many of us left now. The concealment cycles from adult female to fair sex to woman, repeating the loop topology, and I only count seven faces on their articulatio genus in the sand.

At 57 transactions, during another pleasure rhythm, I first notice something curious. Salarin had said the intensity of the stimulators would increase over time. And indeed the other women around me grounds this, seeming to be capable to tolerate forgetful and shorter phases of torturing. My distortion also grows spoiled, and yet I am the reverse of the others, spending prospicient and longer in the hurting zone, as though I have some mental fracture blocking between the growing stimulant and the compulsion to save up myself.

To preserve the stadium entertained, the shots of excited or screaming char on their saddles must be interspersed with Thomas More and more footage of women in the stands being raped. The fighting to hit the most desired female person first has been ferocious, and some women caught between competition have bruised body and offend limbs.

The buzzing against my button is intense - pure velvet delight. In the sentence of joy, there is now an time interval of solely seconds from the commencement of the stimulation to looking down and seeing my stomach muscularity pulsing with the motive to cede. Every stimulus is erotic when I'm being aroused. Even the sensual moans of the young woman, the images of their bodies on screen door. When one climaxes, that too arouses me, imagining how much pleasure I might experience to orgasm.

Another girl proceeds. Another. Another. And then there are only two of us.

My final competitor seems half-unconscious, and my awareness of all but the pleasure/pain is fading, but during a pleasure phase, I am still momentarily able-bodied to interview whether I want to win. Salarin raped me. I know he's a sadist, the most roughshod of the slave trader chiefs. He said he would make the master his toy. Who would want that ? I could surrender now to the pleasure between my legs and stand a brutal trial by ordeal until sunset, but then fell into reconditeness. Then again, I swore after my beginning time I'd never give anything to a man, when I could hold back. Even under the irresistible impulse of an implant, I still have some ability to control my destiny.

The other little girl remaining on her saddle is called Uteena. She is very tall and lithe, and like me, one of the jr. Okhoron. We were acolytes together. Her naturally passionate disposal would likely make her a delightful fan. Now she is slumped, half-limp, on her saddle, centre closed as she grips her poles.

Had I had a little more clock time to contend a future as Salarin's torture toy and then surrender, my lot might give been completely different, along with those of many early Okhoron. Repeated ravishment, torture, and unending ill-usage, but auctioned to a new master. But the fate of planets can depend on random prospect. Lives and lot are won or lost on the toss of a one credit coin.

Uteena is on screen, loosely grasping her poles, when she suddenly seems to inflame up. I see her heftiness contorting, as though she's attempting to shrink into an infinitely small ball while pushing herself into the story of her saddle. She screams, the phone barely different to the sound of torture. And she releases her poles and slumps again, this fourth dimension completely unresponsive.

The bellowing of the crowd reaches a deafening sales talk, and as abruptly as my ordeal began it's gone. The stimulation against my clitoris vanishes, and for a moment I rock my pelvis forward, not comprehending it's over, and seeking its return to complete my fulfillment.

Two guard duty come rushing over to me. The larger one deliberately gropes my breast in the process of releasing me from my adherence. He has an erection. But I do nil to fight him away. In fact I can barely summon the military capability to tweet a finger. The oafs pulling me up by my arms onto my animal foot, but discover I'm utterly incapable of standing. One of the safety device has to uprise me in his weapon system and acquit me up to the royal box. I am strongly built, but he's a bad male, and he bears my weight easily.

On the way up the steps, another male person barges into us, mortal rushing down the former way. My flattop swears angrily at him.

I'd seen Salarin during Donaya Oshanka's gaining control, but from a space. On the balcony, for the inaugural time I'm suddenly in the shut presence of him, and the major planet's former rulers. Salarin, Cronorgan, and a third man whose name I don't know. This new feller is the biggest animal I've ever seen. He's grizzled and covered in scar and wound, as though he's fought a thousand battle. The big one barely glances at me, for he is currently fucking a poor break one's back woman who's sitting in his lap. I recognize her. She was one of this year's Rape Runners - an olive-skinned dish with smoldering dingy centre and midnight hair. The girlfriend's face is unnaturally distorted, for he has her school principal wrapped in a bag of unmortgaged plastic textile, which he keeps cinched tight to her pharynx so she's unable to breath. Her face is an ugly purple color, and her eye are bulging with terror.

No one is intervening, and I'm in no stead to assist her. Even if I wasn't implanted, I don't have the strength to agitate a fly.

In forepart of Salarin, I am dumped ungracefully to my knee. Limp, I endure the inspection of the man I realize is my new master. After my anguish, any show of strength or rebelliousness is impossible. I do not even attempt to conceal my nudeness from him. I just wait there on the floor, my ribcage heaving with the wake of exertion. It's almost too a lot effort to look around, but I look around the box for cany monition as to what being his"plaything"means for my fate.

"Excellent !"Salarin exclaims with joy."You ? Well, this the best resultant role possible. Perhaps the okay specimen, you're also the toughest, and the resemblance is uncanny. Really, you're quite the gift from the God. How I shall enjoy your torments."

The Sadist also has a woman accompanying him. Cronorgan seems to be the only one alone. Salarin's slave kneeling on a leash. I note her body is exquisitely toned. She holds her thighs wide to display her sex electronic organ, and her weapons system are folded behind her back into a pose that naturally arches her spine and presents her breasts. Something odd has happened to her body - her teat and her clitoris are a gleaming silver color, as though we're seeing a metal sculpture of a woman's sex organs, instead of actual flesh.

She has a hoodlum over her brain. I can not see her look, she can not see mine. Perhaps her captor prevented her viewing the sport as an act of cruelty.

"My pet's accessories interest you ?"asks Salarin, and with a beginning I realize he's been studying me."The silver is from permanent botheration stimulators implanted into her organs. Perhaps I'll do that to you. Or perhaps it would be a greater punishment to reverse you into one who enjoys dealing out nuisance ?"

I shake my capitulum. Me, turn a sadistic fiend ? Better to be one of the women who takes pleasure from pain in the neck. At least my distress would save others. I wish no ill to this misfortunate brute with the silver nipples.

And then Salarin pulls away her hoodlum and I cry out.

It is not a co-incidence that there are Nine loss leader of the Djenerion. The Sect believe that for each of us, there are nine key individuals whose lives are interwoven with our own, and who wield great influence over our fates, malign or benign. The universe will summon us from across Galax urceolata to first forgather each other, and then keep drawing us back together. We don't even need be with them for long. It just requires the right place, right time, to vary everything. Two are usually our parents. Tisya, I was told was a third of mine. It seems this woman is a fourth.

"No ! No !"I moan in incomprehension."You're supposed to be dead."

It's inconceivable. I'd seen the footage of her final here and now. She was sentenced to death by bunch rape on The Hub, and was well on her way to the beyond from the violation when a self-destruct specie of alien female blew everything to smithereens. The men seem fully cognisant of the secret, and only one other mortal present shows surprise. Someone whose hood prevented them watching the race. Recognizing me for the first time, Ja-Alixxe also looks as if she's seen a ghost.

"No,"she also gasps,"Okhoron ? You shouldn't have made it to the Okhoron - that's impossible."Ja-Alixxe waver on her last word of honor, realizing the mistake she's devising, but by the prison term we've both gather our wits, it's too lately.

"The similarity is no coincidence ? You know this female ?"Salarin asks his slave.

I'm pleading with wide oculus, trying to signalise her to keep unruffled - zip good can come of him knowing - but of course she's implanted, and compelled to speak the truth.

"That's Ja-Jeedie, schoolmaster. She is my cousin. Her whisker was sorry when I last saw her, and now she's blonde… but there's no doubting it. That's her."

"Really ? What a glad co-incidence, and how relate. Cousins, and soon to be lovers. Ja-Jeedie, huh ? That explains a little. Perhaps there is a cistron you plowshare for enduring pain."

Ja-Alixxe and I are looking at each former horror-struck, as the outrageousness of what's about to hap cesspit in. She shakes her head in disbelief.

Before anyone can say more, everyone on the balcony is distracted by the goliath man climaxing with a ghastly grunt. I look to him and see the short girl his is raping has gone limp. Her face through the clear charge plate is almost disastrous. God, I think she's dead. The man stands, picking up the ragdoll form of the charwoman easily. Without bothering to hold back his monstrous hard-on, he walks towards the balcony and pitches the lady friend over the edge to the field floor. After spitting on the ground, he returns to his chair.

I've seen some savage sights from Aghara-Penthay, but this is a new low. Even the former two faction leaders look on with dislike. Returning to his hind end, the man looks at me properly, and I realize I'm staring.

"deficiency to be future ?"the giant says to me with a leer. His voice sounds like rough gravel."I like the pretty ones with big tits."

"I'll sell her to you, monas,"Salarin says with a shrug."But now I know her joining, she'll be extraordinarily expensive."

"I'm the richest man on Aghara-Penthay,"the one called monad grinning."I could give even that one,"and he gestures at Ja-Alixxe.

"She's not for sales event,"Salarin answers coldly.

"You're dick-sick,"Monad says with despite."She's got to you. Remember the jurisprudence - two years, then move on. Every female can be bought eventually. Then I might use her in presence of you, just to teach you humility."

I'm wondering what"dick-sick"means - Cronorgan used the phrase when I was first captured, and it seemed to be an vilification. But Cronorgan cuts in then, claiming back my attention.

"fella slave owner,"he says,"let's continue it cultivated. There's more than enough twat on this planet for all of us. Let's find out what is the link between these two women. It might be something we can use."

"Always happy to deal with you, nobleman Slaver,"Salarin tells Cronorgan, with notably more respect than the tone he used with Monad.

"reply me, Ja-Alixxe,"Salarin says."What's so surprise about your cousin being here ?"

"Because she can't be Okhoron. It's impossible."

"Why ?"Salarin presses."No mystery, now. Not when we're all going to be so intimate."

Horrified I stare at my first cousin. Please, no, if you have any willpower in you, don't tell him. But again, she speaks the truth.

"The Djenerion only accept Virgo. But somebody raped Ja-Jeedie, many geezerhood ago, before we reached The Sect. I know, because it was my faulting. I meant it to prevent her from joining the Djenerion. I never thought she'd be stubborn enough to carry on. Ja-Jeedie must have been so ashamed she hid the secret. But if a cleaning woman who's not a Virgin becomes a priestess, the Gods penalise them. They call them Dark Djenerion. Those whose are cursed to hold up in the strong-arm senses instead, of the endless ones."

"No !"I plead.

Salarin laughs uproariously. Cronorgan is also listening closely, but monas seems barely interested.

"This just gets better and unspoiled - A night Djenerion ? You ruined her afterlife, eh ? She's probably displeased with you, then, Ja-Alixxe,"says Salarin, and then asks me,"Ajeedie, tell me, do you detest my pet ?"

"I did,"I admit."But she's been punished enough. I just feel pity for her now."

"We can alter that easily enough though,"says Salarin."Tonight in my sleeping room, a new phase of your lives will get down. I will pass water you lovers. I will make you desire each other. I will make you detest each other."

"No !"I plead, for I didn't believe my worst incubus could get risky, but the torturer has found the way. I blurt out,"master copy, have mercy ! ”, and thus, I debase myself.

"And to maximize your suffering, I will first have all of the trueness,"insists Salarin."So now, between you, tell me everything."

And with zippo left to lose, I do.

15 - past

Mostly I blame Ja-Alixxe, but both our life sentence would also have followed completely different paths if it wasn't for the bounty hunter.

I'll never forget the day we met him. Ten years ago, as we left on the transport that was supposed to be taking us to the Sect. We were barely char, Ja-Alixxe and I, but we were already the pridefulness of our class. pure daughter chosen for the Djenerion Sect. In the futurity we would return to our homeworld as priestesses. Perhaps one of the few chosen to take part in the mysterious ritual, who then become Okhoron, and perhaps even a fellow member of the internal circle.

Describing us as virgins-destined-to-be-priestesses might gift an mental picture of two female child who we were ethereal and demure. But the reality was, we were giggly girls of that speculative vacuous kind - constantly gossiping and laughing loudly. Ja-Alixxe and I had always been special protagonist - thick as thieves - and getting to travel between worlds together, just the two of us unsupervised for the foremost prison term - it only made us more excited. We ran wild on that transport, unaware of the attending we must have attracted, and unaware how vulnerable two young lady who were green to the wickedness of the universe must induce been.

We seemed to take on him by luck - just another passenger, who happened to be on a throne next to us in the transferral's java bar. Looking back, I'm sure he'd noticed us, and probably been watching for a while, before he engineered a meeting.

His gens was Gorack. I'll never forget Gorack. On my homeworld it's the public figure of a fat and ugly grazing animal, strong and indefatigable but stupid. It suited him.

"Are you sisters ?"he asked from the adjacent tabular array, and then without waiting for license he shifted seats to join us."You look like sis. standardised pretty faces, and that Same sour hair."

He reached out and took hold of one of Ja-Alixxe's midnight ringlet, also without permission, and he rolled it in his fingers. She smiled, trying to piddle out like this way an casual thing, and she wasn't flattered by the attention.

"Not twins, though ?"he continued."You,"and he turned to me,"have a more acrobatic torso, and the braggart beak. And you,"indicating Ja-Alixxe,"look more like a model."He smiled."I'm like a police detective. I can see these things."

I didn't appreciate these gossip. Especially the I about my ‘ hooters ’. A unknown shouldn't have been discussing the size of it of my chest.

"And who are you ?"I asked rather coldly.

"Gorack,"answered Gorack."Gorack the bounty hunter."

"Well, we were just leaving, Gorack the bounteousness hunting watch"I told him, but Ja-Alixxe cut in,"waiting, what bounties do you hunt ?"and thanks to the giving of her opening, he was in. succeeding minute he was away with some dogshit story about some multiple murderer he claimed to have tracked across Earth. I wasn't taken in. bounty Hunter in the galaxy divide into two types. Those with a moral sense, who operate within the law - chasing convicted crook, slaying, rapists, slavers. And those who catch anyone where there's a node will to pay enough. The trash sort.

It was obvious to me that Gorack was the latter.

Ja-Alixxe was fascinated with him though. To her, each one of Gorack's stories portrayed a creation of opportunity that would be a lot Sir Thomas More exciting and dangerous than a future in the Sect, and helplessly I watched him light a flack that could never be extinguished. I loved her like a Sister, but I wasn't blind to her break. I was the goon one in the mob who could stoically deal with anything, and Ja-Alixxe was the wild one, with no sensory faculty of responsibility. It seemed a error for me that she was put forward to become an acolyte at all. I think with her limited exposure to the universe, combined with Ja-Alixxe's lack of focus, she'd drifted along with her kinsfolk's regard. Until Gorack made her realize what she really wanted to do.

Sure enough, when we were finally shot of him for the day and alone in our cabin, it came out.

"Let's run away,"she eagerly suggested."There are countless galaxy out there waiting for us, Ja-Jeedie. We could do a hazard working together, doing what Gorack does. Two cousin, hunting, and looking out for each early. We'd be unstoppable."

"And that loser's life doesn't show you what would really materialise ?"I said scornfully."He barely has two credits to rub together."

"Anyone can devolve on hard times,"she continued,"but they can climb back up. And Gorack has the skills."

"What skills ?"I sorted."The only acquirement he has is being a dirty old lech - always staring at my chest, and constantly touching us. Any self-justification - a hand in the modest of the spinal column to guide us through a threshold, a supportive arm when we stand up. He's the creepy-crawly guy I've ever met."

She waved the commentary away, dismissively.

"We can handle him, as long as we look out for each other. But we can't do without those accomplishment. We don't have intercourse how to pilot a ship. We don't know how bounty hunters find customer leave to pay. We don't make love how to track person across space."

"We know enough of what men want,"I said coldly."You'll be lucky if you don't wake up in chains, headed for sales agreement on Aghara-Penthay."

That ended the discussion for that night, I hoped ended it for good, but the snowball was already rolling, and between them they turned it into an avalanche. succeeding morning Gorack was waiting for us at breakfast, and after that he was stuck to us like a sponger. Nothing I could do or say would judder him off. He knew Ja-Alixxe was the one to exercise on, and as long as he kept her on face, my objection that I was dodging his bridge player the moment she wasn't looking, all counted for nothing.

"He's just messing,"she said airily."You might as well use the opportunity to check to take with that kind of attention. The religious sect aren't gon na go along you locked away forever, and you have the kind of body that drives men wild. They're always gon na try. He won't be the last."

During that flying Ja-Alixxe seemed more alert than I'd ever seen her before, but she was also moody and unhappy. I could order she was building up to one of her critical point explosions, where she'd either cast Gorack and his hungry heart aside for The faction, or throw away everything for a new path. for sure enough, it all came to a head on the last evening of the voyage. Next day we'd be landing at some random public, inconsequential except for serving as a transport hub, and we'd replacement to our net transport to the Djenerion world.

Two odd occurrences had happened during the day. Both contributed to the Sir Ernst Boris Chain of outcome that followed. Having sponged credit from us the totally voyage, Gorack suddenly found a supply of wealth from who-knows-where, and"as a gesture of goodwill"paid to upgrade Ja-Alixxe and I to a luxury cabin for our final night. I was very suspicious of this, and with sinking tenderness expected to find we were in a elbow room for three, but instead of clinging to us like he'd done for twenty-four hour period, he abruptly withdrew early after our evening meal.

"Giving us time to mouth,"was Ja-Alixxe explanation, and I groaned.

"This again ?"

Back she was, to the same old argument.

"You don't want a life in the Djenerion, Ja-Jeedie,"she repeated."That's your family's wishes. Not yours."

"Well, if you believe that, it looks like you don't cognize me as well as you think."

"Come with me into quad, and have a futurity,"she pressed."Live, before it's too late."

"I don't want to go to space. Most of distance is blue and grievous, and you'd be mute to go there. Come with me to the religious sect and have a future,"I countered."What you're chasing is naught but a childish fantasy of adventure. And even if I did want to become some lame-ass vagrant, Gorack sure as hells isn't the way I'd do it."

"You're so unregenerate, Ja-Jeedie,"my cousin said angrily."Is there anything that changes your brain ?"

"And you're flighty, always changing yours while seeking the adjacent thrill. So go get into trouble with that crawl if you like, but I'm joining the religious sect. And when I'm a priestess, don't make out war cry to me, when instead of wearing the productive jewels, you find he's sold you out and you're in the restraints of a sex slave."

Ja-Alixxe leapt up. I'd never seen her so pissed-off in my life-time, and my irritation was up too. Maybe if our speech had led into an old-fashioned physical fight, scratching and pulling each early's'hair, we could still hold turned back. But I let her get up and make for the door. It was the spoiled mistake of my life.

"I'm gon na salve you, Ja-Jeedie. I'll save you from yourself. You won't thank me at first, but one day you'll understand, that I saved you."

"remove your things. You don't have to come back to our cabin - not when there's your boyfriend Gorack's bunk,"I called after her."Have a nice future, slave girl."

After she'd gone, I sat in secrecy for a longsighted prison term in the dark cabin, replaying the fighting over and over, testing each assembly line for a better and better comeback that would have won my point in time. How dare she claim she knew me better than I knew myself ? This travesty was nothing to do with me. The situation was all because she lacked the correction to put to outer space for herself, so she wanted me along to portion the blame. She'd callously ignored my discomfort in Gorack's front in quest of her own goal.

I tried to practice the introductory Djenerion mind exercises, which even laymen watch, but I was too angry to center. I tried to learn, but the chronicle I was halfway through didn't hold my interest group enough. I switched on the vid projection screen, but every flow seemed to be showing that year's ravishment Run. The channel either gloried lasciviously in the fair sex's suffering and nudity, or took a stance that it was an odium that the Run existed in a civilized galaxy. But the haters showed as much nudity as was possible, all the same. And the finish thing I wanted to see was Sir Thomas More men pawing women.

I went to my bed, lying in the dark for a retentive time before drifting into a restless nap. At each real or imagined phone I'd start into wakefulness. She should come back, so we could have closing on the fight. It annoyed me that she was probably out there somewhere on the ship enjoying herself, while I waited brooding in the dark.

When I was woken by the interference of someone in the cabin, at initiative I assumed that Ja-Alixxe had returned. But I was brought to awareness by a creak and the mattress of my bunk sinking feeling, as a weighting sat succeeding to me. Alarm bells rang inside my head - I had enough sense to screw that heavier cargo wasn't Ja-Alixxe. But I wasn't fast enough to open my eyes before the blanket was pulled back to expose me.

"You ?"I said, and sat up with a start. In spite of my talk to Ja-Alixxe I still didn't quite see, but instinctively I shrank back to the corner of by bed anyway, drawing up my articulatio genus, and he moved closer.

"Gorack ? How did you get in here ?"I pressed.

He didn't answer at first gear. He just looked up and down my body. My nightshift was a simple affair of a white material - free fighting except around my full chest, but it did sit quite high up on my thighs. I'd given little thought to the garment before, but something about the way his eyes moved over it made me wish it was longer.

"Stop that !"I frowned.

Still he didn't say anything. Instead he placed his mitt on my bare second joint, in high spirits up towards my hip.

"What are you doing ?"I protested, automatically closing my paw over his gravid carpus."Get your manus off me."

"It's okay, Ja-Jeedie,"he said."There's no motive to be afraid."

I frowned more. I wasn't afraid. I just didn't want him touching me. I tried to push the helping hand away, but he was strong, and his exercising weight was gradually bearing down on me. I looked round anxiously for an dodging road, but he was so confining that I was trapped against the turning point, with trivial way to move. His hand felt hot, and I could smell the masculine odor of the relaxation of his body.

Gorack looked me up and down again, that same eldritch face between hunger and awe.

"How did you get in my way ?"I repeated.

"You have your first cousin to thank,"he answered."She gave me the qualifying. Don't trouble. The door is locked. No one will commove us."

"Why would…"I was halfway through saying, when his hired man slid up my thigh and over my hip until it was as high gear as my waistline. Simultaneously his early hand moved to me, and held me under my ribcage, as though we were partners in a ball dance.

I shrieked at that, for the paw sliding up my hip had taken my nightshift with it, I wore no underclothes, so I was as unspoiled as naked below my waist. Only my tightly closed legs gave me any self-respect. My anteriority and instinct were shouting to cover my privates, so I tried to push my shift down with both hands, but that temporarily relinquished the defense of my upper body, and succeeding thing his script was cupping my chest. The touch was so intimate that I could find my nipple pressing into his palm.

"No !"I said, trying to give my voice office, but sounding high, and quivery, and frightened."Stop that !"

My fears had all come true. I understood by then what he was going to try and use up from me. I understood the look in his eyes was lust. And I knew I was in trouble.

"Ja-Alixxe ?"I shouted out towards the doorway. My vocalism was loud in the little cabin, and I hoped it would take aback him.

"She's not coming,"he said carelessly."I told her to give us a couple of hr's privateness. And shouting won't help you. The bulkheads in these ships are thickheaded, and there's not many people up here at the luxury end of the ship. Not like that other cabin you were in. No one's gon na hear you here, Ja-Jeedie, even if you scream your lungs out. So, how about you start being a bit more friendly, and pick out this thing off ?"

He tried to lift my shift even further upwards then, as though to perpetrate it over my header. Of trend, I resisted this, temporarily abandoning my body to save my clothing by gripping the framework with both bridge player. But immediately he switched tactics, releasing the lower hem, then taking grip of the garment at my neckline, and pulling hard. By the time my hands followed his it was already too later. There was the auditory sensation of tearing and I felt my fracture giving way.

"No !"I wailed. He'd rent clear my shift almost to my omphalos. I tried to clutch the two half closed over my chest, but the next attack was already underway, and more came thickheaded and degraded behind it. The eternal rest was inevitable. Each time I tried to protect one domain, I just left somewhere else vulnerable. We tussled for several transactions like this, him groping and tearing, touching and tearing. He seemed in no rush. He was enjoying my fear, my shame.

By the time he let me break, I was breathing heavily. During the struggle I'd slid further down onto my spinal column, and I way lying in the ruination of my shift. There was still some material over my pep pill arms, but the rest was pretty lots in tatter around me. I had one arm across my bosom and the other over my private parts. It felt intolerable, being so nearly naked in front of him.

"I've not had a char for a while,"he said. He was smiling almost paternally, still just sitting there with a soothing voice like he'd come to say goodnight. Not like he'd just sexually assaulted a girl."But that's about to change. The two of you will make nice companions, for sharing my bed. She doesn't want to spend her life as a priestess. She wants to be a Bounty Orion. And she wants you there too."

I groaned. bust swelled in my eyes and I looked away. Of course of instruction Ja-Alixxe wanted that. But really ? She betrayed me ?

"You were the price I agreed. wellspring, you first, and then her later. Of track, she doesn't know yet she's also a piece of the deal, but once we're alone she'll be as slow to take as you. And Bounty hunting watch don't always trade criminals for credit. If she doesn't learn her piazza, your cousin will make a very valuable slave."

With this he reared over me. He was already bountiful and stiff than me, and now I was on my back gravity was in his favor. I tried to push him away, but he sank down on me. For the first fourth dimension in my life, I felt the free weight of a virile lying on me. He was heavy. I could sense the hardness of his sex organ. His breathing spell was on my cheek, his mouth right next to my nerve. It was disgusting. His hand forced a path between us, fumbling at his privates, and I knew I only had moments to escape.

"I don't think she'd have traded you, unless she believed she's saving you from yourself. Once you've been deflowered, you'll have to come with us. There's no full stop joining the Djenerion when you're not a virgin. But I don't really like what her reasons are. I just want to fuck you raw, Ja-Jeedie."

I was beginning to cry, with fearfulness, with frustration, with the inescapability of what was about to occur. He'd freed himself from his knickers. That was his exposed cock I could feel pressing against my thigh. Ja-Alixxe, Ja-Alixxe, I cried to myself. How could she do this to me ?

"A Rape Run grade piece of shadower you are, Ja-Jeedie. I'd never have believed when I got on this transport, I'd finish up fucking you."

"No !"I pleaded, but conversation ended as he made his ultimate movement, and I began to struggle in a last-ditch try to save myself.

Later, after I'd been trained to press, to kill, I knew a dozen elbow room I could throw prevented what happened that nighttime. zona eleven through one, single attacker above. nerve, joint, pressure item. But I was unskilled back then, and he was much warm than I was. I fought and fight back, but it was no upright. In a way, I wish I'd been restrained like a frustrated assault runner, or like I was helpless when the slave trader outset took me. That would have at least permitted me some self-respect - looking back and blaming the bonds. But even resisting him with all my efforts, I was still the weaker, because I was female, and I was defeated easily. I had to endure him pawing at my breasts with those sweaty, meaty hands, and squeezing my backside, and when he pierced into me, I screamed because it hurt so much.

My frustration had aroused him, so in reality it only took a few arcminute for the rape to be over, but to me, the dupe, it felt like an eternity. Each sentence he thrust forward into my body, the cot would skreak. Squeak, squeak, squeak, I had to mind to it over and over, along with his creature grunts, and then a moan like he was dying when he came. squeaker, squeak. Since then, I've always slept on the trading floor, if a bed makes that randomness. The speech sound just takes me justly back.

When his climax came, Gorack stiffened and lay still on me, gasping. For another eternal minute, neither of us moved. I cried out again as he withdrew. It felt like something was torn inside me, and there was something strong and wet seeping between my legs. He ruffled my boob like he was patting a pet animal.

"I'll report you,"I said quietly."You'll be sent to the prison for sex outlaw on Cancis Rock."

He chuckled as he re-secured his drawers. He stroked my thigh and I kicked out, trying to evade his touch. This too entertained him.

"We both know you won't,"he said."Because you can't, not if you intend to get together your little furor. You'll have to enshroud your shame, there. And if you do adjudicate to talk, your cousin will side with me, say it was your idea, so the authority will acquire you made the whole tale up to breed up for being a slut. You'll be sent back to your syndicate in disgrace, Ja-Jeedie. The family whore. No. it's silence, and the cult, or your only when viable option - to derive with me. So set forth learning to continue your mouth shut, like a secure girl. Until I ask you to use it to present me pleasure, that is."

I hated that he was so smug and self-assured. He'd won, and he knew it. I was angry, ashamed, and desperate to somehow convalesce some function of the victory. Faking a representative that I thought might vocalise seductive, I tried to get under his guard.

"Maybe you do have a full point,"I said,"space could be agitate, and the sex wasn't so bad,"and I reached out and held his face in my helping hand, tenderly, as though I was about to kiss him. But it was a trick. Gripping firmly with one manus, I raked my razor-sharp nails down along his boldness, trying to gouge as deep and as gruelling as I could.

Gorack cried out, and that pleased me, but with my arm extended for scratching I wasn't fast enough to obstruct his retaliation - a haymaker punch he landed right on the side of my skull. My promontory reeling, the force of his smash flung back onto the bed.

"Hit me if you like, but that's all the joy you'll get from me, as long as I live,"I said in a low, trembling voice.

"Bitch,"said Gorack, wiping the blood from his cheek. He chuckled cruelly, not as hurt as I'd hoped."Well, that was deserving it for such a gracious fuck. And I'm just gon na take the dough outta your ass when you're mine. You'll rue that move."

"I'll defeat myself before you touch me again,"I say.

"You've got until tomorrow to end yourself, then, when you're coming with me, bitch."

He rose from my cot, and the man who had taken my virginity left the room without even a glimpse back.

Afterwards, I turned to look the wall, I curled up, and I lay there for nearly thirty minutes without moving. My mind was too dull even to cry, but my pot seemed to be in overdrive. I could finger everywhere his hands had been on me. Muscles tired from desperate struggling. tit cadaver, part of the breasts I now hated. Aching shoulders where my nightshift had been torn. A feeling of being soiled all over, as though I'd never be blank again. And a burning botheration between my legs, as though I'd been torn. I could feel wetness there. Blood, or sperm, I didn't want to search. What did it matter if I bled out ? What else did I have to do ?

When there was the sound of somebody entering the room, I didn't even look.

"Ja-Jeedie ?"I heard my first cousin say cautiously.

There was a foresightful silence. She sat on the border of my bed and tried to perch a bridge player on my hip, but I swatted her away angrily. I never wanted her to touch me again. I think I hated her as much as Gorack. He was the raper, but she had callously sold me to him for her own gain.

"Why ?"I eventually asked."Why did you sacrifice me to him ?"

"It was the only way I could reckon of to deepen our future,"she said unhappily."I know you. Don't deny it. You're not meant to be some priestess, and spend your solar day locked away. That's your household's wish. Not yours."

"You did this for yourself,"I said with my vocalisation breaking."Don't try to pass off your guilt trip by making out this was for my benefit. You don't know me. If you did, you wouldn't have let me hold out that. Look at me. At my torso. wait where our first adventure in space has got me."

I turned so she could see what she'd done. I was still lying in what fiddling remained of my night-robe. There was no mistaking what had happened to me. On my arms and my thighs were the marks from a man's hands. Tomorrow I was going to be bruised. I saw myself for the first of all time. Blood, and even more disgusting mess between my legs.

Ja-Alixxe looked away, abashed, as I rubbed my genital organ obsessively with a scrap of cloth.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, but it's freed you of the Sect. Come with me now,"Ja-Alixxe."Yeah, Gorack's a douche bag, but as soon as he's taught us to navigate his ship, we'll betray him. I'll kill him personally for what he's done to you, if you don't want the honor fo revenge. I swear. And then think of it - we can go anywhere in the universe."

"No, we can't go anywhere. We're women,"I disagreed."Has what happened to me taught you nothing ? We were supposed to be dependable on this transport, and I still got raped. If you're so liberated and equal, prove it by going to Aghara-Penthay."

"Now you're being silly. There are thousands of early worlds where women are perfectly safe."

"And while we're learning this navigation ? What cost do we pay ? Do you get a line to fly, while I'm on my back working our passage ?"

"That was a one-off,"Ja-Alixxe blushed,"forcing a committal. semen with me, and I'll make sure he doesn't touch you again."

"You don't know men,"I retort."He'll wait until we're vulnerable. Both of us. Gorack intends to have you too, you know. He might even deal you into slavery."

"I can look after us both,"she insisted.

"If you could look after me, I'd still be a virgin."

She sighed then like I was being dim. Coldly, I spoke.

"I knew you were selfish, but you're beyond that. You're psychopathic, Ja-Alixxe,"I said."You don't precaution what I've just been through. You don't fear I had to palpate that disgusting man's penis inside me. You still think you've done me a party favour. Get lost. Get out my cabin. I hope I never see you again."

Finally, she seemed a petty chastened.

"I'll gather my things,"she said, and began tidying her property into a rucksack. She was silent, right up to getting to the cabin door. But Ja-Alixxe always wanted the final word.

"What are you going to do ?"she asked with assume calm.

"What do you opine ? Go to the Sect."

"But if they find you're not a virgin…"

"What do you care ?"I cut her off.

"I care,"she said."I'll always cared. We're family."

"We're not family line. I have no family now,"I told her, and I turned back to face the wall. And thank the gods, finally she left.

After that night, I didn't know or care if my cousin was alive or abruptly for a telephone number of years. Until the class she was suddenly renowned across the beetleweed. Ja-Alixxe, my own cousin, was one of the twelve assault Runners captured and forced to vie in the year 3354. The Slavers like to give a label to each smuggler, to make them distinctive, and she was"The Bounty huntsman ”. That was how I found out she'd carried on with her target, and suit a bounty hunter after all. I wondered what happened to Gorack. He didn't deserve any more of my time, but I often thought of him anyway."A assault Run grade piece of tail, you are,"he had said, but it was Ja-Alixxe ended up as a protester.

In the parade where they showed off the year's Rape Runners, Ja-Alixxe was marked as a Virgo, so she'd managed to celebrate his hands off her somehow. I'm not sure which I'd have preferred, that she killed my rapist, or he raped my rat.

I despised everything to do with the violation Run, and didn't want to eff what happened to Ja-Alixxe, but of course I sat glued to the streams like most of the galaxy. And I saw she was same old Ja-Alixxe, of course. A acquit survivor, but one who got by at everyone else's disbursal. The hale galaxy knows that story though. What you don't know yet, is what happened when I joined the Sect.

16 - Sect

It's called The bastion, the home of the Djenerion, although being accurate, The bastion is only the largest of a Brobdingnagian composite of building, surrounded by a high-pitched rampart which turns the Sect's dwelling into a fort.

Thomas More than a thousand of us were in the vast hall, but you could barely take heed a sound. We knelt, mind demurely down in a affectedness oddly exchangeable to one adopted by trail hard worker on the pollute human beings of Aghara-Penthay, only we kept our second joint neatly closed, rather than displaying the crotch like they must. Like the early acolytes around me, I kept my eyes closed and tried to condense on my exercises - the ritual that would perfect a Djenerion's gift - connection to timeless existence.

The Djenerion gift is supposed to give profound insight and peace. An initiate can join herself to the flow of time, life and energy across the Galax urceolata, coming to terms with their place in that universe. Priestesses understand the paradox - each life means everything, for each life is connected to every other lifetime. Each lifespan means cipher, for it is only one among infinity. Reconciling oneself to the divine contradiction in terms was supposed to bring a peace that the Djenerion are able-bodied to contribution with the galaxy. And nigh importantly, Virgin female person are the exclusively ace who can bear the encumbrance of wisdom.

The unlearned who fail to comprehend our beliefs think that the Djenerion's exclusion of males must result from some physical body of sexism, but in accuracy it is a matter of fundamental biology.

The Sect believe that only the pure in spirit are able to understand and share the wisdom that comes from perceiving the connexion between all things. Once a someone is sexually awakened, they forever become sully - their awareness becomes bound to the forcible now, and the deliver, rather than the eternal. Thus, it is the nature of all males that at adulthood they become impure. Even a teenage male person who resists the impulse to jerk off will release in his dreams.

But, you might ask, what if a woman who is soiled, masqueraded and presented herself as a virgin ? Well, if she were to succeed in her deception and becomes a priestess, then souls who should gain from the deity'peace would be denied that honest comfort. The sacred texts are clear that the idol abhor such a woman, and she would be forever cursed. The price for giving false enlightenment is damnation in lifetime - self-abnegation of all happiness, perceiving only the evil and the bother in everyone and everything around them. She is"iniquity Djenerion ”. Luckily for The Sect's followers, the training for acolytes is meant to prevent shadow Djenerion progressing to the rank and file of priestess. Acolytes are set scenarios that they must"understand"using the Djenerion gifts, and offer the best wisdom. Those who have lost the natural endowment will fail the reading.

I expected my disgrace to be discovered at any time, and I lived in invariant fear. But presented with a moral dilemma -"a man finds his married woman is cheating, but he is happy with her, should he leave ?";"I have a terminal disease, do I forgive my brother ?"- I found the situations so perfectly banal it was prosperous to talk platitudes, and the priestesses seemed to lap my responses like they were airheaded fools. early acolytes floated around with saintly smiles on their faces after speculation, filled with the gods'grace, and I learned to misrepresent their vacuous expressions, hiding my inner turmoil.

meter continued to pass, but as I became less horrific of find, I also grew acrid. Why couldn't they see that I had no confessedly enlightenment, and all I was using was mutual common sense, watching their torso spoken language to take them, and offering such generic result that they would apply in any situation ?"Remember honest times always pass, but then so do the bad ”. Was the whole Djenerion religious sect bullshit ? I was filled with growing contempt for those around me. They were fools, and I was the solitary one who could truly see. But then, I reminded myself, my attitude was exactly a fulfillment of the foretell bane. I saw nothing but weakness and betise around me, and I despaired at the prospect of wasting my life handing out this empty advice. Ja-Alixxe had been right. A bounty hunting watch's calling would give birth been better for me. I hated her. I could just see her smug reflection, always believing herself to be the victor one.

Women joining The Sect have an alternative path, however, and it was one that would part with me a future as a fraudster. Most of the acolytes would adopt the convention of becoming regular priestesses, and be allocated a major planet where they would government minister, spreading the comfort and belief of the faction. Occasionally a priestess would advance to The 9 - the band of leaders who dealt with the more administrative chore of leading the Sect. From among The Nine would be chosen our ghostly leader - The Djeneria, who would point us all until her death.

For just a few, there was a more military part of the religious order - the Djeneria's escort, and the unaired our Sect had to women soldiers - the Okhoron. And for the Okhoron, there was no ministering to the faithful at all.

But joining the Okhoron required choosing by the Djeneria herself ( one couldn't put oneself forward ), and she took guidance from the eternal in her decisiveness. The Okhoron was not for the syncope hearted. After choosing by the Djeneria, candidates had to outlast an knowledgeability ritual, the nature of which none outside the Okhoron knew. We were all aware of the ritual's answer, however. It changed adult female physically, bleaching the pelt of even the morose of woman milky white, and turning their whisker to a silvery blonde. The rite weakened the women's connection to the unceasing, and based them more in the physical population, but this sacrifice gave the Okhoron superfast responses, so they could oppose in fighting as though prescient. I remember a monstrance to air the Sect, where an Okhoron soldier entered a tear with one of the wiz female martial artist of the creation, and bested her easily. Okhoron could even abide up to men, and more than one of them at a prison term.

We knew only the unattackable survived the initiation appendage. There was a peculiar garden at the edge of the Sect's edifice with a commemoration to those who were found inadequate. We were told that approximately a third of initiates perished, by whatever mystifying agency there was. There didn't even seem to be bodies of the unsuccessful left for the Djenerion graveyard.

The Okhoron's prowess came at a farther cost. Like a bulb burning too brightly, they aged rapidly, and nearly were exhausted within a couple of decades. It was said that Okhoron sacrificed themselves to populate their clip at double the f number of other beings.

The entreaty to me was obvious, in malice of the danger and the cost. I could hide my shocking disgrace by focusing on the physical instead of the spiritual. Given how my future looked hopeless anyway, it didn't matter if I got to the end of life Sooner. And as Ja-Alixxe had predicted, the duties of a priestess were going to be dull. The Okhoron offered the expectation of dangerous undertaking, for the Djeneria travelled frequently.

I saw our reigning Djeneria for the first time in the anteroom of acolytes. You might intend Tisya is beautiful now, but back then she could turn anyone's psyche. Accompanied by one of The club, she moved up and down the ranks of acolytes, to what purpose we knew not. We were supposed to be meditating, but a ripple of whispers spread through the hall anyway, and our private instructor had to snap angrily to restitute calm.

After a few minutes, Tisya stopped and a girlfriend stood up, lofty and blushing. Uteena. We could guess what was happening, for we'd noted Uteena possessed the physical durability needed to be elevated to the Okhoron. The war machine path wasn't suited for those adult female who were as delicate as porcelain.

The majority of acolytes sought the shed light on existence, and had no interest in joining the guards, but I wasn't the solitary one looking on the blushing Uteena with green-eyed monster. As well as being grandiloquent and gymnastic, Uteena was one of the great sweetheart of our year, and even among Affirmed virgins, such blessing can provoke resentment. It is a universal truth that the more attractive are favored in whatever field they practice. At first on arrival in The Citadel I too had endured some nastiness, but in the privacy of our rain shower cube I left one of my tormentor with a black eye, and no-one came near me after that.

Tisya left the hall, with Uteena demurely in her Wake Island. The pretty acolyte had been blonde already, but next time I saw her, her fuzz was much paler - the silver blonde that confirmed she'd endured the ritual. She was instructing one of the many attendants who work at the Sect in the disposal of some crateful. I tried to recognise her, for, as acolytes her and I had been drawn together against the overjealous ones, but she waved me away. She looked unhappy, haunted even.

A month passed before Tisya entered the hall again. Once more we were supposed to be communing with the eternal - a meditative state where a priestess feels she can touch the universe to trigger ripples through a million stars. But I remained in the now, rather than losing myself in the meditation. I deliberately retreated from the trance state, for I'd always found myself tortured by flashbacks - Gorack on top of me, pinning me down, the piercing pain. I could still feel his hired hand on my breast, still recall every detail of how his prick felt inside me, and although I was kneeling safely with my second joint together, it felt as though he was still there. I flinched from his pleasure, his triumph, his misogyny, and…

A woman's hand touched my shoulder, giving me such a fright that I nearly cried out.

"There is suffering as well as peace in the existence,"she said."Sensing suffering is the gist of the priestess. I see you feel their suffering, yes ?"

I opened my eyes to see Tisya standing there. She had a member of The Nine next to her, a withered old crone, and the dry old witch had an construction so cold and stony, I thought for a moment we'd reached the bit I'd feared, and they were there to squirt me. But Tisya's formula was open, understanding. I hadn't heard her glide path, and there hadn't been the whisper to discourage she was walking the lines.

I nodded mutely, figuring that a show of awestruck silence was my secure response.

"Stand please, acolyte,"she said gently. Awkwardly I got to my foundation. I'd been kneeling for a hanker clock time and my legs were stiff.

"Your name is Ajeedie, yes ?"she asked, although she must have already known the answer.

I nodded again. I wanted to draw a blank my past when I'd arrived at the religious sect, so I'd dropped our kin prefix,"Ja ”, and given my public figure as"Ajeedie"during registration.

Tisya smiled at me. She had a beautiful grinning. I was there hiding my restlessness. For the firstly time in months, I dared to hope. Please, please, select me. Get me out of this future.

"The Djenerion believe that some people live lives of liquidity, with unsealed destinies, and some follow string section, a path set from birth."She spoke loudly, showboating for the eavesdropping acolytes."Your lifespan is a string, Ajeedie, any agony you have endured fated to wreak you here, to intersect with my train. We are intertwined, you and I, you see. You sense that drawstring, just as I do. The 9 see it too."

For a second, I thought I caught the witch rolling her eyes. But when I blinked, she only wore that Lapplander thin-lipped disapproval. I met her regard coolly. This was Tisya's yell, not your decision, shriveled cunt. My fondness swelled. I was new, beautiful, willful, and I was going to be Okhoron. I'd fill my orphic downfall with me into the military, and only Ja-Alixxe and Gorack need ever sleep with about that sordid incident on the transport ship.

"So you know already what I'm going to ask,"Tisya concludes,"and I know already what you will reply. It is clip to action your destiny, Ajeedie. Come with us. In three nighttime, the synodic month will both be full. That is required, for the ritual. The term will not reoccur for another yr. You must chew over, and prepare."

I've often pondered whether if I could feature seen the future, I would have continued, or if I could have broken my string and walked another path. But I looked round at those kneeling acolytes and could think of naught worse than living out my solar day forcing one of those vacant smiles.

"Djeneria,"I said, and nodded my assent.

17 - Cavern

It was cool in the cavern, and I could hear the sound of water dripping from the rocks.

A"cavern"is the full account I'm capable to give you of it, for we approached it through burrow, and caves, but a instinctive rock'n'roll pit was perhaps a better Holy Writ, for a large fix in the ceiling opened to the sky above us, and I could see the moons which orbit Djenerix directly overhead. Both lunar month were burnished and full moon. It was a beautiful evening to die.

I'd had three sidereal day to prepare myself, left in a bare cell to speculate and consult with the gods, but with no cognition of what awaited in ‘ the rite ’, there was little to do but try not to get get the better of with fear. Perhaps it was a deliberate percentage of the test - forcing me to show mental posture, as well as physical. The final day was the worst of that interval, waiting for sunset. There was a one in three chance I'd be dying that night. The prospect of decease makes someone desperate to bosom life and the senses, and for the first time since I was raped, I masturbated.

When at sunset two fair sex from the Okhoron came for me, I was dying that the room might still reek of my foreplay. But they showed no polarity of emotion as I was made to change my clothing, and then led away. They dressed me in a full-length dress, made of a virginal thin albumen framework. It was a round-eyed affair - secured only by a burl at each shoulder joint and a tie wrapping around the shank. I wasn't even permitted any underclothing beneath the framework, and although the dress covered me entirely modestly, I felt strangely open in it.

They took me first to the cellars under the previous function of The Citadel, down to levels I'd never explored before, and then through a thick metal threshold into a tunnel carved from the rock. The stone's throw down there were so worn that the musical passage must cause been ancient. We followed it along in a path that twisted and turned, using natural tunnel as well as unreal work, so I was completely disorientated by the clip we reached the cavern. But I knew there was no website inside The bastion walls with a roofless cave though, and I could see tree diagram above as well as the Sun Myung Moon. We were somewhere in the surrounding forest.

The tunnel entered the cavern via the most impressive of the metal threshold. This one was at least six inches thick, as though build to seal and protect The citadel in multiplication of war. The Okhoron had evidently been preparing the place for my ritual - braziers were lit around the jolty rock rampart, filling the space with a warm glowing. The light showed that every inch of the rampart glistened - slick with moisture, and flickering flames threw all the shadows into deeper contrast. Ahead, in the opponent direction to where we'd entered, a second larger tunnel, almost a perfect flier tube, led on and downwards into slant blackness.

From above, I could hear the night calls of the satellite's timber creatures.

Unable to see anything down the darker passage, I contented myself with looking around the cave. This space was almost empty, except for the brasier, and two ancient wooden Emily Post, distanced about six animal foot apart and almost as prominent as tree body, embedded deep into the land. The top of each spot was horizontal surface with my shoulder joint, and each had a dense metal ring sunk into it. The rings were rusted, but not so badly that they were weakened.

"Stand between the post, Ajeedie,"one of the charwoman from the Okhoron said gently. It was the showtime thing she'd said since asking me to transfer clothing. These two must have passed through the rite, but they resisted any interrogative sentence about it. Their faces were a variety of decide firmness, and sympathy.

I hesitated, but she added,"please"and I stepped forward.

"Let me see your wrist joint,"she said following.

If she'd said"give me your wrist joint"I might have had more warning, but docile, I presented my left arm, and quickly, she wrapped loops of an odd vine-like fibre around my wrist joint, knotting the vine so it wouldn't gloaming away.

"What are you doing ?"I asked nervously.

"Tying you between the spot,"she said."Your carpus must be bound to the mob for the ritual, to make sure you remain in place."

"Why would I not ?"I questioned, but she only smiled that Lapp kindly looking at, and shook her head.

Using the vine, she pulled my arm up and out, so my carpus extended at the level of my shoulder, and threaded it through the rusted ring in the top of the post. Without a Book of explanation, she knotted the vine at this ring. By this time, my former escort was taking hold of my former wrist. In this fashion I ended up with my arms extended, almost like a chapiter"T ”. The vines were not taut, not stretching me, and not uncomfortable either, but I could not turn down my arms far before the vine went taut and prevented me going further. I'd never been restrained before, not even in an innocent plot, and I tried to get off, more from curiosity than anything else. The knots tied at that rusted tintinnabulation were just there, less than a invertebrate foot from my fingertips. And yet I could not move close enough to the one at my right to exhaust them, for my boundary left arm held me back. And I could locomote no further to my leftfield, with my right wrist joint restraining me. Furthermore, I discovered I could not reach out anywhere on my torso. My intrude began to scratch, and delivering a scratch that should have been no subject had just become unsufferable. I felt suddenly aware of my vulnerable organic structure, my breasts, my female-ness. I did not like being tied up, I concluded.

"And now this,"said the priestess, and she reached for one of the knots fastening my dress.

"What the ?"I'd flinched instinctively, but of course of action my paw were tied to the post, and I couldn't turn back her releasing the framework. I understood then the rationality for the simplicity of the fastening at my berm. I didn't have to slip any sleeves away over my weaponry. The women were capable to undress me all too easily.

I stood blushing as my dress puddled around my mortise joint. I was the only one naked in the cavern, and I could not hide any office of my bare body save for by crossing one thigh over the other to hide my sex.

"Do not be ashamed,"one of the women told me."No men come here. Only the two of us will see you like this."

I thought my embarrassments might throw been sufficient by then, but it got unsound when they sponged me down, coating me in liquid from a gravid stadium which was inlaid with precious metals. The liquid state in the trough was assoil, and at first, I thought they were washing me, but the fluid clung to my skin and the aroma hitting my nostrils was that of a strongly scented oil. This they smeared liberally and thoroughly over me, including painting my nipples ( which grew humiliatingly firm in reaction to the attention ) ; and worse, they bade me undefendable my legs to coat the breaking ball of my pudenda. They even oiled me deep into the cleft between my buttock.

"I feel like small-arm of meat being prepared for barbeque,"I joked, but the two Okhoron only looked uncomfortably at each other, as though I'd said something vulgar. okeh - Okhoron had no gumption of wittiness then.

Once I'd been basted from drumhead to toe in that strong-smelling oil, they stepped away from me. I hadn't enjoyed the intimate contact with other fair sex, but I didn't like them leaving me there, feeling naked and vulnerable with my subdivision stretched out, either. The spirit of the oil seemed to be everywhere on me. I couldn't identify the aroma. It wasn't floral or pleasant, like a fragrance. It wasn't repellant either. It just… was.

"You can distinguish me what's happening now,"I pleaded, and shaking my tied limb, added."It's not like I'm going anywhere."

"It is forbidden,"one of the Okhoron replied.

Her companion crossed to one of the braziers, and the remainder of the oil she tipped over the glowing coals all in one go. There was a roar and a ostentation of shining heat as the flammable oil ignited, and the feeling intensified, multiplying itself from unattackable to overpowering. When the net drop of the liquid was vaporized, both cleaning woman walked to a place at the back of the cave, out of spate behind me. They returned carrying something which must give been hidden behind the threshold - the ivory of a monster animal, polished smooth, and carved out to form a horn. The instrument was so heavy they had to carry it between them. I was surprised I'd missed it on the way in.

"We will now sound the trump, to indicate the start of the ritual,"said one of the women as they stopped beside me."Once we've given the sign, we must leave you. If you are found desirable, we will return for you when it's over, and you will be Okhoron."

"But what am I to do ?"I pleaded.

"That is simple. If you survive, seek the Maker twinkle,"she said.

I frowned - there was no need to be mysterious. Why couldn't they have just told me ? These two were just yanking my range for the interest of it. Bitches. Well, I wasn't begging. nude sculpture or not, I was going to hold my head up and present the ritual bravely, so I looked steadily into the dismal tunnel ahead.

One of them supported the horn so the other one could give it to her mouth. She blew. And wow, that thing was loud. The sound, a steady understructure chord so deep it seemed to make the soil vibrate, was deafening from my billet right next to it. I counted ten seconds, and then the line stopped, but my ears kept ringing and the finale of it resonated around the Rock paries. As a team, the two Okhoron were already carrying the instrument back to the recession of the cave. Their movements had become more pressing, and I could see anxiety in their body language.

"Hurry,"one said quietly to the other. What in the hells was happening here, I thought ?

I shook my arm at them to again show my wish to be freed, but they were already retreating back out of my hatful. The creaking of that damned cloggy atomic number 26 door when they closed it made a noise nearly as forte as the saddle horn. The creaking was of something wooden-headed enough to protect against an ion blast. I twisted my torso, trying to front round enough to see them, but with my radiocarpal joint held in property, I could only revolve so far. With a deep microphone boom, the doorway fully closed behind me, and with me sealed alone in the cavern, I returned to facing forwards into the dark tunnel ahead.

The consistent part of my mind knew there was a funfair chance was about to die, somehow, and if there was any truth to the Djenerion belief, the gods would certainly adjudicate me"unworthy"for survival after enduring the rape. But at the clip, the unknown was more terrorize than the real scene of having arcsecond to hold out, and after ordeal by Gorack, I was very witting that the ritual might have something to do with my female person chassis. I'll never leave how the indignity of standing there crude naked was the worst thing of all. Most desperately I wanted to embrace my breasts, but having my hands tied to those gang meant I had to keep my coat of arms out away from me. It occurred to me that if they'd wanted to display me like a patch of meat, they couldn't have done a near job, roping me so my eubstance was on show, and then in one of those cascades of brainwave, I saw that this was exactly what they'd intended.

reverence escalated rapidly in me. While they were tying me here, I thought the ritual might involve forced ingestion of a drug, where restraint was needed because in a chemical substance trip to connect me to the gods I might self-harm. Or maybe Okhoron would mystify ten buzzer out of me, and I wouldn't be able to dodge the snow. Or maybe enduring a torture - a burning chemical substance on my peel that I'd have tried to call off away unless I couldn't use my workforce. But none of that would involve the messing with the saddle horn, or the braziers, or expect the Okhoron to move back behind a heavily armour room access. Only one explanation fitted the facts. I was an offering. A animation forfeit, offered to something down that tunnel.

I cried out, a frighten call for assistant, but heard no answer from the Okhoron women.

Enough. fuck this, I thought. I started twisting and turning, trying to pull my arms unloosen of the circle. The moisture on the walls… It was maybe abridgement from the breath of something gigantic, or a million small affair, or perhaps it was even slime - some form of corporal secretion. I needed to go against liberate of these vines. Perhaps that was the test - I had to escape before it came. Whatever it was, I didn't want to hold back and find out. But the cover were so tight, I'd only hightail it them by pulling my arms from their sockets. No, surely that wasn't it ?

A bad thought occurred to me : was this oblation going to be something intimate ? I recrossed my thigh over my other leg, but slick from the oil there would be little I could do to hold out a Male assailant. My organic structure was so naked - buck naked with my boob and ass on show to the population.

And then, over the strait of the forest wildlife, I heard the first sound from the sullen tunnel. The friction of something vast rubbing against the rock-and-roll bulwark. And a rumbling noise - such a deep bass it was felt, rather than heard. God, service me.

I redoubled my endeavour, to escape, straining as arduous as I could without breaking my limb. Would it bite me ? The sound was getting louder. Something horrific was approaching me along the tunnel.

I had the dire fruition that maybe, what was happening wasn't the rattling ritual at all. The Djenerion had discovered my shameful mysterious, and this was how they disposed of the tainted ones. Ajeedie's tragic life account would be of a woman sold out by her cousin, and punished for being defeated by being offered as live nutrient. No, please, not like this I silently prayed, as I desperately writhed and strained to get free.

When I saw it, its front first, and then more of it as it emerged into the flickering light source, I screamed. It was a behemoth eyeless worm, the size of a minor space ship. The creature was so boastfully it was squashed against the tunnel walls, and it expanded at it filled the elbow room, almost like an airship being inflated. Its cutis was a dead Zane Grey people of colour, smooth and featureless, and it was coated with a boneheaded glistening layer of slime matching the covering on the cave walls.

There were no visible signs of any sensory electric organ on the worm, but when I screamed again it reacted, rearing its front from the ground, and searching for the source of the audio. I saw no eyes or pinna on it. The only when faulting in the featureless shape was what must be its mouthpiece - at the tip of its front end - a broadsheet annulus of musculus, like a homo anus, but magnified to a size where by dilating, it could engulf something much larger than me.

I screamed again, terrified as I thought there might be dentition inside that halo. teeth that would shred my material body into thread. The social movement of the wight reared again, reacting to the sound of my fear, and I fell unsounded instantly. I'd retained just enough reason to count on that I might evade this thing by keeping understood, if it only hunted by sound.

But then the sinewy ring I called its mouth dilated and flickered, as though it was sniffing. And the worm shifting direction to point right at me. The oil, I thought, it can smack the oil. I rubbed my thighs together frantically, trying to wipe myself clean, but it was a fruitless motion when the Okhoron had coated me so thoroughly from head to foot.

The creature came for me. Ten yards, five curtilage. It moved by pulsing interior muscle along its physical structure. I could see the wave of muscular contraction and elaboration travel down its length, until it got so close that only the nominal head of it filled my view. My muteness would be insufficient to evade it, so I screamed for help again. I tried frantically to backpedal, pushing my heel into the rock floor, but my boundary wrists held me in home, and safety valve was hopeless. I could smell out the monster by then - a fetid, powerful scent like rotting nitty-gritty surrounded it in a cloud. It was a carnivore. I shrank back in revulsion from the disgusting mucus that coated it. The gook must have been an inch thick. There were particles of dirt and debris suspended inside, and puffiness of matter too decayed to pick out. As it sensed how close I was, the mouth began to expound, full and wider so I could see inside, and while there was mercifully no sign of teeth I could see the same grey dead human body, glossy with slime, within the thing.

I leaned my head back as far as I could, looking up to the moonshine, and arched my spine to tie back my hips, but with my arms still held by the binding vines, I could retire my upper trunk no further. So it touched my bureau first, and then began to broadcast around me, sucking at my breasts and eubstance intimately as lips around a lollipop. The brute was warm - much strong than my own body, and the gelatinous coating touched me everywhere, making it experience as though I was being enveloped by a hot bath.

Once again I screamed - horror at the inevitability that I would shortly be engulfed, and devoured. The muscular porta was more flexile than I would possess guessed, and it was able to fold around my rear while still occupy enveloping my movement. It was phenomenally strong - there wasn't the least chance of doing anything but to go where its muscle shifted me. As the worm closed over me, my cheek pressed into the guck. For the first moment I was able to turn my head and breathe, but I coughed and then the overpowering smell made me vomit up, panicking as the film was so thickly it blocked my nostrils. Where the ooze touched my bare skin, I was starting to sense a combustion sense impression, but that was nothing to the threat of suffocation.

Once the muscular tissue had surrounded me down to my renal pelvis, the worm was capable to go down on my rosehip towards it. In a fraction of a second, I was dragged off my feet. I was engulfed in its mouth, swallowed compensate up to my chest, suspended on my spine, with my coat of arms stretched along towards the stake. My legs trailed horizontally inside the monster like I was clinging on in a tip burrow, and it felt like my coat of arms were being pulled from their sockets. On every bit of my body that was submerged, I could feel the louse's internal musculus crushing me, and my raw skin burned from contact with the digestive saliva. I don't commemorate if I was screaming.

I felt another moving ridge of its brawniness progressing up me as it moved over me completely. I took one cobbler's last look at the stars above the cave opening night, and drew one strained breath into my crushed ribcage - a breathing place that would have to stopping point me until the end - and then my face, my arms, my script were inside it.

My memories become vaguer from then. The brute would experience easily possessed the strength to classify me from the place by snapping the vines, shattering my wrists or even tearing out my limbs - whichever of those gave way first - but for reasonableness I don't remember, I found my hands were no recollective bound, merely compressed together above my oral sex by the worm's strength. It crushed me everywhere - but with the greatest pressure item moved in waves as it sucked me. It burned me everywhere. It devoured me everywhere. I could see nothing but inkiness, unless perhaps my eyes were closed or had been burned away. It was unacceptable to suspire for the vivid atmospheric pressure, and for the muck that filled my tubular prison. death in such a hell could not be far away.

I was already hallucinating, perhaps from atomic number 8 deprivation, perhaps from some toxin in the burning slime. I welcomed the distraction from my close at hand circumstances.

There was no longer blackness. There were adept in the ooze. infinite stars, and they glistened so beautifully. An integral world. For a moment there was blessed relief. At the end, finally I would earn the Djenerion ataraxis and one-ness with everything. I began swimming towards the eternal, but something was pulling me back. A hand on my ankle. I was pulled back to my bunk in the transport ship, and Gorack was holding my ankle.

"That's not for you, honey pie,"he gloated as he forced me onto my backbone."Your future is tied to the flesh. A assault Run grade piece of tail, you are."

He mounted me and penetrated me, just like before. The piercing stab of his member was desperately terrible. But unlike the incident on the transport, instead of groping my breasts he kept his hands around my throat, choking me. This was to be my end, found fucked and strangled, a life wasted for a few minutes of some twist's pleasure.

And yet, no. I began to fight, pulling at his hands with my dwindling reserves of military posture. You will not beat me, Gorack. Even a cursed liveliness, a lifespan in the flesh, in the darkness, was better than no animation. Gorack changed to another man, and another, and another, each raping me and each crushing my windpipe, but I endured against them all. My imaginativeness was shrinking to a tunnel, but also growing brighter, as the get-up-and-go of my universe was compressed. At the end there was one blot of infinite luminosity. I fought my way towards the illumination, and then there was nothing.

18 - Survivor

At 1st I unsure whether I was awake, for I was in lurch darkness. I cried out, for I could still feel the aftermath of Gorack's mitt on me, but soon realized that no, I wasn't on the conveyance. In this place, my vociferation echoed back but also were dulled, as though I were thick underground. I was breathing air. My sinew felt as though I'd spent hours working out, but I seemed to be whole. I didn't bang how it was so, but I was alive.

Underneath me was something muggy. Expanding awareness told me I was lying on my face. I realized I was naked. There was the audio of dripping water. With the panic of death gone, logical thinking resumed. My mind informed me :"You're down that dark tunnel, aren't you ? ”.

I reached out, and knocked something, an object that was lightweight but strong, which clattered on the cave floor. I reached out more cautiously, and found the curved stick of a human rib. Carefully I padded the level around me with my laurel wreath. More off-white, and more bones - all from mechanical man species, and too many to birth come from one individual. A skull there, from which I shrank in revulsion. A pelvic arch, broken in half. I found another skull. At 1st, I'd felt embossment at having somehow survived being devoured by the worm, but my middle began to accelerate once again when I realized decease was all around. What kind of abattoir was I in ? I noticed the smelling then. An overpowering olfactory property of shitty flesh and excreta. Immediately I gagged at the foul fetor. How hadn't I become cognizant of that before ? Where was I ?

The response came when I reached behind me. I touched something solid and warm, coated in thick slime. Something vast. I'd cried out instinctively, the strait loud in the enclosed tunnel, then clamped my hand over my lip. I was following to the giant, wasn't I ? I froze for a minute, waiting to see if it reacted to me, but the wight was still. Perhaps it was sleeping. I wasn't going to wait and find out.

"If you survive, seek the ecclesiastic light."The Son of the Okhoron fair sex came back to me. But in the pitch wickedness, there was no sense of which way to go. Logic said any direction away from the louse was skillful, so I decided to move ahead until I reached a tunnel wall. Then I would take a direction, and favor a path that seemed to go up. So I began to cower forwards, concentrating on moving only one limb at a metre, but even being that cautious I still kept disturbing piles of decaying remains. Each time there was the clatter of clappers I'd have to break, until I was certain the lusus naturae remained dormant. Most of the underframe seemed to have been there for class and were stripped make clean, but at one point I put my hand into a homo ribcage that was still sticky with decaying meat, and I vomited in revolt horror.

The burrow rampart turned out to be a few grand away at most, but it seemed an interminable time before I reached out and touched gook coated rock. The wall ran at an angle to me - one instruction tending more away from the worm than the other, and this made my conclusion for me. Anything that increased the quad between me and that ogre was beneficial. I began to cower, brushing my naked shoulder joint against the rampart to sustain my direction.

It was impossible to judge distance in the pitch darkness, but after perhaps ten yards, the quantity of bones started decreasing, and I could accelerate, and after twenty yards an invisible bound was crossed, after which there was nothing but the sleek slime-coated floor. I stood up, but could go slight faster. I had to probe with each footfall, in cause my route came to an edge where the tunnel plummeted into the void. I was sure no-one was coming down here for me, and if I wanted to live, my futurity had to be secured thanks to my own efforts.

I continued. The tunnel seemed to progress roughly on a spirit level airplane. I still didn't know if I was going in the right instruction. Reaching a idle end and having to sprain circle would ingest been heartbreaking.

For once though, luck was on my side. After inching along the tunnel for perhaps 15 second, I started to believe that the wickedness was perhaps not quite so impenetrable, and after another L 1000 I was certain I could begin to make out the glistening tunnel walls. I was moving along a giant tube, with side almost perfectly flyer except for a flattening of the level. I could reek fresh air and I began to zip, but the lightly stage increased so quickly I had to slow again to allow my eyes to adjust.

I rounded a slight bend and abruptly I could see the cave, and bright rays of visible radiation streaming down from Djenerix's twin sunlight onto the posts where I'd been sacrificed. The phone call of the daytime forest creatures were loud, and for a here and now even to me the cosmos seemed blissful and awake.

I had found the divine light.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor were the two Okhoron women. One of them was fidgeting with her robe and they both seemed bored. I crept quietly from the tunnel, but a sixth sense in them detected me, and the two looked up. I was determined to show I wasn't broken by the ritual, so when they saw me, I stood and strode confidently out from the tunnel, standing with my legs apart and hands on my hips. I wasn't defeated. I was pissed off. I'd nearly died getting swallowed by that thing, and for what cause ? Did I have the supernatural reflexes ? I felt no different.

"Ajeedie, Nine be praised - you survived the ritual,"one of them says. I was mad as Scheol and ready to lash out at them for what they did - tying me up and feeding me to that repulsion, but in unison they chanted"Sister. Okhoron. sister. Okhoron,"and disarmed by this unexpected homage, for the first prison term I looked down at myself.

My peel had always been blanch, but I'd been bleached to a much whiter nuance, and I was overly smooth - almost like a waxwork. The neat pubic hair over my pudenda had transformed, turning from thick black to a blonde so clear it made me seem almost hairless. I reached behind myself and pulled labialize the long head of hair of my hair's-breadth. sure enough enough, there was no trace remaining of the brunet matching Ja-Alixxe's hair's-breadth. My ties with the past were severed forever. I had the silver blonde of the Okhoron women.

"You are one of us now,"one of the women said in a warm representative."The gods found you worthy. You are Ajeedie, the Okhoron. I am Suna. This is Joon,"and she indicated the early woman."You may, if you wish, clothe yourself."

With crisis replaced by civilization, I became aware my nakedness was no longer appropriate. She handed me the bundle of my white sacrificial dress. The shoulder fastenings had been retied for me, so it only took a thing of seconds to slip it over my head.

"We will rent you straight to the Okhoron quarters,"said the one named Joon."You can houseclean yourself, and you'll need to eat. Everything works faster in Okhoron bodies, including the metabolism."

I was mollified enough to reflect on the ordeal I'd just endured, and its purpose.

"Something about that monster - the worm - is what gives us our speed ?"I asked."I hope you didn't put me through that for no reason."

"The Vore ?"says Suna."Every one of us has been through it. Literally. Its digestive parcel is not capable of breaking down our trunk, especially once we coat individual with the oil. But those who the gods do not privilege still die from suffocation during the musical passage through its system. The Vore's digestive succus have their impact, as you have guessed. As well as reacting with the tegument and hair, to bring out the permanent bleaching you're familiar with, the saliva has a powerful and lasting neurotoxic issue. It accelerates the genius single-valued function, giving hyper-fast reaction stop number at the price of speed up senility."

"That's what you call it, The Vore ?"

"The God found you worthy,"repeats Suna."We believe the visions in The Vore show you your sprightliness string. You saw your past, your futurity. Use the knowledge wisely ..."

But I saw all those men. I felt them inside me. Perhaps I am cursed, for if those men were my future, my fate promised nothing but shame and suffering.

"… and forget the fear of the goliath,"Suna continues."Forget it and never speak of it. It is forbidden to talk about the ritual. You are Okhoron, now and always. Greater trial run than that lie ahead."

And she wasn't wrong.

19 - Okhoron

The Earth where I grew up had a trading hub, as to the highest degree satellite do. ship came in from a bonny spread of humanity, but it wasn't like we were on one of the main transit routes, and my girlhood was spent in something of a backwater. The hub had a flyblown report, like most blank space ports, but it still seemed pretty exotic to teen who hadn't seen much of the universe. There were always ship gang looking for food, beverage and fun, so for minor trying to scrape together a few citation there was never a shortage of menial jobs.

I worked my spare prison term in this saloon property near the launch launch pad, carrying out lowly duty like waiting on the tables, and helping out in the dorsum. It was one of the adult pothouse, employing about thirty folks like me - mostly broke stripling saving to get the hell out, and mostly young woman, as the guys could get meliorate paid jobs at the loading railyard. When I was the newest girl there, the Old female gave me this feel, a kinda knowing-sympathy, like I didn't know what I'd got myself into, but they did. I found out soon enough though. The possessor - this grey haired talky and stringy old character called Dagoro-Shek - asked me to stay back and help contain the stock. Alone in that plump for room, I turned beat to find him with his cock in his hand, brandishing it at me. He said if I'd suction it once in a while, and let him see the H.M.S. Bounty that the idol had provided me, I'd get spare credit and the nicer jobs.

It didn't end like Gorack. rape was still in my future. I pushed him aside and ran, ran all the way rest home. I went back next day intending to quit and gather my pay, but I didn't see Dagoro-Shek at first, so I got on with some employment while I waited, and when he did appear, he acted like cypher happened. It was fussy, so I didn't get a prospect to verbalise my judgement for the rest of the break. I spoke to the others in the lag - lady friend look out for each other - and they weren't too shocked. One said I was too much of a puritan. She said he was alright, just as long as you didn't let him get you alone. Some even sought it out - a bit of touching, a mouthful of cum swallowed down once in a while, and you had some more savings. So side by side affair, I'd done another shimmy, and another. I carried on there and I dodged any requests to process late, always worked where there was a viewer, and things went fine. Ten mean solar day later a new girl arrived. We watched her wryly. She'd receive out. I even got to like Dagoro-Shek, under the mighty circumstances, and he gave me a big sendoff pack of acknowledgment as a present when I did eventually leave.

Why am I telling you this ? I'm relating the story because although the other Okhoron were gracious to me, that's exactly the smell they had - Ajeedie : you don't sleep with how affair really are here, not yet, and you just have to discover out for yourself.

Superficially everything was fine. It turned out I had a born aptitude for martial arts, and I was fit and inviolable. My body became more acrobatic and vital, seeming somehow to pee me appear more womanly and nubile even while I toned up and lost some of my softness. The blond haircloth I found very pleasing. I was vain, and grew it long.

My training regime was interesting - arm, technical school, strategy, medical tutelage, even the basics of flying and navigation. The Okhoron were warm and welcoming, and as we all lost much of our link to the enlightenment as a price for speed, I had less to venerate from them about my colored nature being discovered. But still there was that feeling : just wait, Ajeedie. So I trusted my instincts - certain that this wasn't just the gods'curse and something was amiss, and I avoided the intimate friendship. By the time I'd been a fellow member of the Okhoron for a duet of calendar month, I was seen as a loner, and I was content with that situation.

Our level of contact with Tisya, the Djeneria, our purpose for universe, varied. She had observance tariff, sojourn and visitors, where an Okhoron escort would be required as a visible formula of her eminence. On such occasions she would walk surrounded by her accolade guard. We had conventional uniforms that seemed to be chosen primarily to emphasize her protectors were female - curtly tight dresses, and knee-length boots with a high up heel that would be useless in a fighting situation. I didn't like feeling so deliberately sexualized. Our weapons - a six-foot-long form of magnetic pole arm with a glowing energy blade - were similarly airy, except in the airless hand to mitt scrap.

I preferred social function when confessedly aegis was required, as opposed to being an objectified showpiece. For a genuine foreign mission we would don armed combat, heavy boots and shoulder more than virtual blaster weapons. My first Okhoron duty was one of these.

We all took our responsibleness to her seriously, in nastiness of the lame uniforms. Tisya knew well she had been identified by the slaveholder of Aghara-Penthay as a objective for participation in The Rape Run. A duet of years earlier there had been an incident with Slavers attacking when Tisya had been offworld. The sea rover hadn't managed to capture Tisya herself, but respective Okhoron had died in the fighting. The slave dealer had captured a couplet of Okhoron alive from the incident. The unfortunate Okhoron female whom they found particularly suitable was forced into the Rape Run and placed third, before being captured in a trap and violated by a cabal leader named Leshan.

Slavery was not the only threat to Tisya, or even the primary feather risk of infection. In the vastness of the galaxy there are more religion than habitable planets, and while the Djenerion had become one of the punter known and established belief system of rules, The faction was not without its competitor. The excrescence of female person as the vessel of truth was to some an anathema - holy place orders who were convinced fair sex should take a subordinate function. The first fourth dimension I killed for the Okhoron it was such a man. His furore considered the Djenerion a unorthodoxy. woman should be obedient, and little respectable than property, they preached. The zealot flare-up from a crowd wielding a blaster - perhaps indoctrinated that sacrificing himself to eliminate the Djeneria would earn him a practiced hereafter. Reacting at supernatural pep pill, I'd shot him before cerebration.

The Sect does not defeat lightly, and at first I thought it would feed on my mind. But I felt no compunction, and after a few daytime I could barely remember his face. I didn't believe killing that guy could earn me further eternal penalisation. I felt I'd been punished enough by fate, that day on the transport, and it was prison term the graven image cut me a break. I had vowed that no man would ever allude me again. I did not venerate thrall, for I did not fear death, and merely intended to end myself if it looked like capture was inevitable.

Tisya, it seemed, persuasion of slavery quite a lot, and feared it more than I did. That was the but reason I could think to explain why, when Nox fell at The bastion, she would often mobilise one of us to her private rooms. Tisya only ever pick out a lone protector, she chose them personally, and chose apparently at random.

The escort were professionally discrete about how the laud loss leader lived in common soldier, but I guessed she must wish to converse with her shielder, because she definitely preferred to vary her troupe. Unless she spent every night in reference with the eternal, I reasoned she could hardly remain in accomplished silence until dismissing a bodyguard in the morning. Maybe she was a talker.

I certainly did not wish to chatter with Tisya. The Djeneria must be the most perceptive of all the Sect, and I did not require her gaining insight into my living. My present was zilch but service to the Okhoron, under the shadow of discovery. My yesteryear was closed - another universe which I did not wish to discuss. For this intellect, I kept a low profile, and tried to avoid her ken when she was in the dormitory choosing her withstander.

But the day came when she appeared in the dormitory room, saying,"Ajeedie, where is Ajeedie ?"and no sum of money of avoiding her gaze could serve me then.

"You have the honor of being my protector and companion tonight, Ajeedie,"she said."report card to my secret tail in one hour."

And there it was again, resurfacing from the nearby adult female - that irritating smell. We can't tell you. Find out for yourself.

Disobeying a place order was impossible, so nervous of find or not, along I went. The quarters I was shown to were expensively furnished, but I had to concede they remained in respectable taste. The decoration wasn't opulent or decadent. Tisya welcomed me not as though I was an subordinate there to protect and serve, but as though she was hosting a Edgar Albert Guest. She wore a long white garb, much like the one I'd worn to be sacrificed to The Vore. I was greeted by being handed a drinking so inviolable I could see the haze of alcohol exhaust fumes rising above it.

"Give me your blaster - I will interlace it in the rubber for tonight,"she said. I objected - how could I protect her, if I couldn't admission the weapon in an pinch ? But Tisya insisted, and when I reluctantly gave in, this was what she said :

"More people are killed by accidental chargeman fire than by intruders, Ajeedie. But there's another grounds - an experiment. Have you heard of the Adjertie multitude ? Your figure has reminded me of them. Adjertie, Ajeedie…"

I replied in the negative.

"Their women are warriors. Much like the Okhoron, they are highly skilled in mitt to hand combat. There is an interesting device characteristic of the Adjertie, and that is they fight completely naked. In the distant yesteryear, their culture analyzed armed combat casualty, and concluded that overconfidence was one of the greatest scourge. An approach became institutionalized, that the honest way to never block one's vulnerability was for the warriors to be permanently naked. For it's admittedly : someone always feels self-aware, and hyper aware, when naked. What do you think of that, Ajeedie ?"

"I'm glad I'm not Adjertie then, holy Djeneria,"I replied.

"Ha. You amuse me,"she said."But wittiness me, Ajeedie. I wish to observe your responses under just such a situation. Please undress."

"What do you imply ?"

"I asked you to undress."

Of course, I hesitated."I don't think that's a good melodic theme,"I said."Okhoron are trained to outflank protect you while clothed."

"You're refusing a petition from your Djeneria ?"

I hesitated again."Of course not, Djeneria."

"Then undress, Ajeedie."

With the big reluctance, I sat on a low commode and began to unfasten the laces of my fighting boots. Then I reached to my pharynx and pulled down the zipper of my ugly but functional armed services overall, and I pushed the sleeves down over my munition. I had been hoping Tisya would discover me sufficiently vulnerable once I'd got down to my field ordinance underwear, but it turned out that only complete nudeness would do. She wanted me self-conscious about my consistence. She even licked her mouth when I removed my bra, and my wide-cut breasts spilled free. Only a few minutes later, there I was perched at the edge of the lounger, my second joint squeezed together and my arms covering myself as best as I could.

"Do you feel vulnerable yet, Ajeedie ?"she asked. I could tell she was enjoying my soreness, so I tried to hide my superfluity as best as I could, but my blush were obvious.

At first I believed that she'd tyre of the game after a few minutes and I'd be permitted to cut back. But as clock time passed, I gradually understood Tisya intended me to remain nude for the Night. And it wasn't enough for her to let me sit huddled on her dilly-dallier, preserving what self-worth I could. She ordered me to bring matter. To stand up. Sit down. She took pleasure simply from watching the movement of my body while I was unclothed.

"Why are you shy ?"she asked me after a while of this."You are really quite beautiful. Let me show you."And reaching down to the communicator, she ordered,"Send in Mathra, with ethyl alcohol and sweetmeats."

Mathra, it turned out was a Male. A short, officious, looking man in his fifties who entered carrying a bronze tray with a carafe. A guardian Okhoron shouldn't abandon the Djeneria, and by the clip the door opened, it was too previous to cover. So I bolted for a lounger, and curled up into a ball, trying vainly to hold back as much of myself as possible, while Mathra set down the tray. No one spoke. Mathra pretended to decoct on his service, but I could see his eyes kept flicking to me, the naked char, when he had prospect. Tisya meanwhile, smiled openly at my overplus.

"Mathra, this is Ajeedie,"Tisya said."Is she not beautiful ?"

precondition address permit to appear, he paused to stare openly at my bare hide, while I tried to dissolve into the floor.

"Very much, Djeneria,"he said."One of the most beautiful charwoman I've ever seen."

I vowed that if he called me Brassica napus Run grade too, I would kill him on the spot, but Tisya spoke and spared him that fate.

"You'd like to fuck her, maybe ?"Tisya asked.

"Of course, Djeneria,"he replied.

"She is Okhoron,"Tisya said unnecessarily, for my pallid hair and cutis must have made it obvious."With her reflex action, she'd break in your arms if you tried to make a move. But what if I ordered her to allow you ? Ajeedie - you follow your Djeneria's orders, yes ? You let me show you naked to this man. What if I told you to go further ?"

"My basal target is to protect you,"I said, summoning the most uncooperative tone possible."While I was with him, I could not protect you."

I'd thought it was a good solution to avoiding the question, but perhaps she'd heard it before.

"That didn't answer my question. I said : would you have it off him, if I ordered it ?"

I turned and looked directly at her."My divine service has is limits, Djeneria,"I said."No."

Rather than be abashed she laughed at this, amused.

"What if I ordered you to be intimate with a woman ?"Tisya asked next, and when I looked confused she pressed,"Yes, I read it in you - that's not so unpalatable to you, is it Ajeedie ? Many other womanhood prefer their own sex, and your secret is safe with me. Thank you, Mathra, leave us please."

"I'm not a…"I couldn't help blurt as Mathra stood, but Tisya silenced me with a signal from her hand.

"Okhoron lose some of their natural endowment as a price for their amphetamine,"Tisya said when we were alone,"but do not forget I can still read you, Ajeedie. Your twine weave a fascinating floor. You crave affection, while pretending to contemn all emotional connection. Fear not - I can ensure you find warmness, by taking the alternative to turn away from you. You will bed with me tonight. I already see you will not defy this parliamentary law. You will tell yourself afterwards, that the right protection was to stand and stay by my side. Thus, I will free you. You refuse to rouse your own body, because you fear your own sex. But my order absolves you of that obligation, permitting you to find fault me, instead of yourself."

I looked at her in dawning repugnance, as I realized she might believe what she was saying. The Djeneria was going to importune on having sex with me, under some crazed justification that it was for my own healing. But she didn't know my sexual chronicle. She didn't know about Gorack and the shadow he cast over everything. She didn't know how I shrank from being touched. She didn't know that the last someone who touched my breast was him.

"And if I say no ?"I asked in a quavering vox.

"We already know you will not, but if you're not undecided to listening to me, in the worst case I could see to it that you were ejected from the order,"Tisya said with sudden icy coldness."It is easy to fabricate a reason."

I stared down at the expensive carpet, and then back to her intense regard. No, she didn't believe that being intimate would mend me at all. I recognized the look in her eye. That was the way Gorack looked at me, eyes imagining where the hands wanted to follow. Tisya had groomed me, just like he had. I was there so she could sate her own lust. But what pick did I have ? Refuse, and where would I go ? Back to my homeworld ? No fortune of that.

"Would you like intoxicant first, to assist you make relaxed ?"she asked, knowing I was weakening."I have spirits that would lower your suppression. Aphrodisiacs to awaken your fire. My intent is that tonight will be gratifying for you."

"No, Djeneria,"I said humbly.

"Then if you're ready, come with me,"Tisya ordered.

And feeling drained inside, I surrendered to her, and let myself be guided through to her private sleeping accommodation, where I lay down on the huge mattress.

"You will move as I direct,"Tisya ordered, and it began.

With Gorack, I was overpowered, and the struggle was already lost once he had me cornered on my nonsensicality. When I was bedded by Tisya, it wasn't like I put up a courageous conflict. I could have easily defended myself physically. And I didn't believe she'd follow through on the menace to get me expelled from The Sect, even when she later told me cameras recorded everything in her bedroom, and she had evidence against me. I let her do it because I was already broken. A part of me - the gods'curse if there was any trueness to Djenerion beliefs - saw no hope whatever I did, so why try to get off her ? Again, what else could I do ? Most of the Okhoron obligation were well-fixed enough, and when Tisya left The bastion, at least I was seeing some of the galaxy with her. Better to sustain the immorality you know, as the old saying goes.

Her narrative of healing, I'm sure was bullshit, but maybe she did show something in me. I probably was lonely, and I did indeed crave some physical intimacy. And once she had me on the mattress, I discovered how well Tisya knew her way around the female body, and received a master course of instruction in rousing. I hadn't been one of those cold fish females who never touched herself, so I didn't think myself ignorant, but that cleaning woman turned me on to a spirit level I wouldn't have believed possible, and by the end of the Nox I touched her hungrily. It can be delightful to be the recipient of a well-executed seduction, and with a dissimilar, but similarly beautiful char, I'd probably have relished the memory.

"Our sacred texts are authorize that a cleaning lady who lies with a man becomes impure, and the physical realm blocks her connection to enlightenment,"she told me as we lay with our limbs entwined."But there is no quotation of woman pleasuring woman,"and with that she guided my fingers inside her passion."Yes - there, Ajeedie. Nonetheless, there are some in the Djenerion who spurn all physical stimulus - even onanism. Oh, that's good. And there seems to be few open lesbian relationships within The Sect, although I'm trying to shift that."

"For my part, I believe as long as we follow the gods'prohibition on Male, there is insight from opening ourselves to our senses,"she said later."flavour them, Ajeedie. Pleasure, pain, emotion, taste perception, smell - all these dry land us in the ‘ now ’. Learn to fully inhabit the now, and you'll increase powers of insight as strong as reading the eternal. The futurity stamp shadows which can be perceived in the present."

But what surprised me with Tisya - universally acknowledged as the charismatic leader of a religious sect whose ism was kindly, was her possessing a personality where cruelty, not pleasance, pleased her most.

It was not enough that I was her sexual plaything. She wanted me aroused, she wanted me to climax, in agency that caused me humiliation. I was to understand that my consistency was unaccented, and she could insure it better than I could fend. I was lowly, she was high gear, and the differences in our vesture emphasized this. She barely hitched up her garb when I was ordered to finger inside her, but I was not permitted to hide any office of myself.

Her cruelty was physical as well as mental. Tisya liked to snarf my bod - just little sharp tugs between her fingers to traumatize and keep me off counterpoise - to hurt Thomas More than scathe. She like to hold my wrists behind my book binding in a way that made me feel confined. She put her fingerbreadth inside my anus and enjoyed that I absolutely hated her doing it. Afterwards, we had a wrestling peer as she tried to pull those Sami colly digit into my mouth.

It wasn't all one way. Tisya liked to obtain, as well as to break."Slap me,"she ordered."Across my breasts. As hard as you can."She bade me squeeze her nipple as hard as I could supervise, so she cried out with the pain in the ass."Yes,"she said."Feel it - pain means we're alive,"and it was true.

When Tisya dismissed me early the next morning time, shell-shocked and exhausted, I'd hoped to slink unnoticed back to my own bed, but I was too late. The other womanhood were already awake, about their project and tidying around their seam. Many looked up when I slipped in the threshold, but it happened to be the two Okhoron who offered me who were tight. I was trying to maintain my common indecipherable face when I perched, benumb, at the end of my cot, but it turned out they knew already what had happened.

"Your firstly time ?"the one named Joon asked sympathetically."What did she say was the name of the naked people ?"

"Excuse me ?"I replied.

"The people whose womanhood fought raw,"she pressed."I'm Joon, and with me it was the Joroon who fought naked. With her, Suna, the nude warriors were the Swana."

"That happened to others too ?"I asked, horrified.

"Look around you,"said Joon."And ask yourself - what do we consume in common ? Chosen by divine counsel ? I think not. Tisya chooses acolytes personally, and choses those she finds desirable to connect the Okhoron. She happens to prefer acrobatic char, so the pretext works that we're here as the outflank bodyguards, but a title-holder fighter with an slimy face would miss out."

I'd not really considered it before, but sure enough, all the women moving about the dormitory were tall, with strong but feminine figures and proportionate features. They were all avoiding confluence my regard. Ashamed that they'd let me go to her, unknowing. Ashamed I knew that they'd endured it too.

"How many people know about this ?"I asked.

"Every one of the Okhoron,"Joon said."A few of her personal staff. And the Nine."

"The Nine love ? Why don't they do something ?"

She looked at me like I was a fool.

"Tisya is a magnetic loss leader,"she said."The number of followers has doubled during her time as Djeneria. What do her picayune misdemeanors with us matter compared to that ? And the Djeneria is chosen for life. It would ruin The Sect if she were publicly disgraced. No. No-one will save us, Ajeedie. And it's worse - no one will even let you verbalise of what you know. take aim consolation that soon enough she will tire of you, and prompt on to another, as she did with those who came before you."

For a duo of months, which seemed eternal at the time, Tisya sent for me almost nightly. Sometimes we made love and sometimes we didn't, sometimes she wanted me to bath, once simply to exercise, but always I would be obliged to spend the eve naked, while she remained at to the lowest degree partially clothed. And always there was that ribbon of harshness. She would find a way to mistreat me, either emotionally or physically, and for understanding I've never understood, she always offered me the chance to reciprocate. After a piece I began to savour my present moment of retaliation. Once I mashed her clitoris so hard between my fingernails she screamed, and servant ran to see if she was okay.

"Yes !"she laughed at me afterwards."Live now, Ajeedie. Own your senses."

I started to consider whether I liked mercilessness, and perhaps I wasn't the good soul I believed myself to be. But before I made up my head, the frequency of our designation began to decline, and after six days where I remained unsummoned, a new Okhoron appeared in the dorm room - Warani. She was a willowy, ethereal smasher, and I could see now that she lacked the build of a fighter. Warani had been chosen for her other obvious physical dimension. I viewed her with misanthropic sympathy, the way the others had looked at me. She would find out how things were, soon enough.

20 - Nine

If one is going to lie, bury it amidst the truth.

"The eternal sleep, you know, Master,"I tell Salarin."I was captured along with Tisya's bodyguards. I was paraded naked and defiled as part of Tisya's escort on The Hub. Since then, I've been waiting in the pens."

Ja-Alixxe is tensed like a wire, and her middle are acuate, as though she's trying to communicate. But she says nothing.

There were batch of Tisya's girlfriend who did not characteristic in the footage program to the galax, so I'm hoping there will be no checking, and no mistrust of the the true - that I was not there at all.

The real explanation for my presence on Aghara-Penthay arose only because only a lucky smattering of Okhoron had been on former responsibility at the time of our frustration, and it had been hazard that I was one of those. I'd slipped during training just before the ill-fated journey, and squirm my mortise joint badly.

And there was more, which I keep to myself.

A mates of days after Salarin captured Tisya to be a rapine Runner, I was summoned by the Nine. I'd been half-expecting them to get off for me. News of the slave dealer triumph had gone round The Sect like wildfire. Tisya, beloved of The Sect's followers, was captured, gear up for disgrace in The Rape Run. And xlviii Okhoron captured along with her. The Nine met in a hall almost as grand as Tisya's audience bedchamber. They always wore robes of Shirley Temple, The niner. It gave them a sinister show. The woman were on can, arranged in a semi-circle up on a dais, so they could seem down upon lesser mortals. Their loss leader seemed to be the older, cold-faced charwoman who'd accompanied Tisya when I was chosen for the Okhoron.

I was already anticipating that a process to hash out the Djeneria could only think one thing - cleaning woman sent to Aghara-Penthay, in all likelihood on a one-way mission. So as the pitiful sap they were about to volunteer, I wasn't going to sacrifice them any humility, and I matched the cold one for her sour faced expression.

"I'm sure you've guessed why you were summoned, Ajeedie,"she began,"but you don't know it all. The Nine are wise."

I answered, looking steadily at her.

"You've summoned me because you're going to do something about the Djeneria. Correction - you want me to do something about the Djeneria. I presume the holy Nine are unwilling to go to Aghara-Penthay themselves."

As the one who would be taking the pin, I felt I'd earned the rightfulness to be scathing about their fearlessness. But The Nine could commit back in sort, and they blasted me without warning.

"We virgins have more to recede than you, wickedness Djenerion,"she said with tranquil calm.

It was like a chasm opened up before me. wickedness Djenerion, she'd publicly named me. And the lack of reaction from the others told me they already knew. They'd known all along. I scanned their faces for understanding, but each one looked down at me with callous indifference, like I was an worry specimen rather than a human being. My pegleg gave way, and I would suffer slumped to the floor if I hadn't been determined to show no weakness. Straightening, I stared defiantly at them.

"Yes,"the dusty woman gloated."The beshrew ones forget how powerful the gift can be, and believe The Sect can be fooled. But you carried your shadow with you when you arrived. Even your Okhoron sis, who surrender the gift for their forcible powers, could sense you were different."

Yes, they'd let me live as a loner among them, hadn't they ? I allowed myself a instant to wallow in the wretchedness of my failure, before steeling my firmness of purpose once more.

"Then let me ask - why didn't you expel me at once ?"

She smiled, but only condescending approval, like I was an animate being who had learned a trick.

"That, Ajeedie, is at the root of your presence today. Usually with the dark I, they have no clear string. Their future lies in the chaos of the unidentified. But yours was exceptionally clear. Your string was bound with hers. You may have chosen to be a slut, but the gods meant you for us anyway. Everything in your life was fated to deliver you to the carrefour with the Djeneria."

"I wasn't a… He…"

"Your past morality is of no interest to us, Ajeedie,"she silenced me with a dismissive moving ridge."All that matters is that you are fated for this mission. Fated since the strings of your fate formed."

"If the graven image created me just so I would die or be enslaved on Aghara-Penthay, then screw the gods,"I said vehemently."Why should I be their marionette ?"

"Because you might not end up a sex hard worker, Ajeedie. We have a way for you to complete your mission, and return."

With that, The Nina from Carolina explained about the biosuits. I saw that their plan was risky, but it wasn't inconceivable I might travel to the Galax urceolata's worst satellite to be female person, and evasion.

"That change nothing. make love your gods,"I repeated."They've given me no reasonableness to brave a tripper to that satellite. Especially for Tisya."

"Have you heard of a ritual called Tronog, Ajeedie ?"asked the cold one in response.

I shook my head.

"It is obscure, even to the Djenerion. Some of our sacred texts are kept secret even from the priestesses, and are only known to The baseball club and the Djeneria. One such is Tronog. It is possible to intermediate with the gods and restore the innocence of a non-white Djenerion. But participation from all of The Nine is necessary. That cognitive operation is the ritual of Tronog. yield to us with your mission complete, and The Nine will perform Tronog. We'll do it for you, Ajeedie."

"I could be healed ..."I said with shock, suddenly presented with the possibleness of a time to come unloose from despair.

And then they told me the mop up of it.

"But to earn Tronog, you must bolt down Tisya."

I was stunned, and took a here and now to reply.

"You mean deliver Tisya ? As long as she remains a Virgo the Virgin, she could continue her reign as Djeneria."

The inhuman one smiled scornfully.

"Again, the Dark Djenerion do not know how exonerate are their shadows to the enlightened. Tisya has not been a Virgo the Virgin for many years. It was most unfortunate that the divinity chose her early in her girlhood, and with her future assured, she thought she could run wild. We believe she even worked as a prostitute before joining The Sect. But The ball club sought the counsel of the Gods, and their choice remained unchanged. A darkness Djenerion had been fated to top our faction. And perhaps the Gods were right, for our numbers have soared under her leadership."

"But the slave owner have processed her, and their program says she's a virgin."

"Surgery,"interrupts the low temperature woman."A new maidenhead built with the bacta. But if they use the implant to interrogate her, Tisya will uncover the truth.

The Djeneria a former prostitute ? If she lost in The Rape Run, with a control implant in her learning ability she would enjoin everything. The Sect would be ruined. A laughing stock.

"So you see, we have reached the time for Tisya's reign to end,"resumes the moth-eaten cleaning lady."The Djenerion religious sect will not be led by a bawd with a buckle down mark on her grimace. And the God have decreed their instrument to be you. It is always about destruction and anger with the disconsolate Djenerion, so you are a fitting nemesis. Dark Djenerion destroys dark Djenerion. Slut destroys slut."

Waving the insult aside, I have one survive question.

"If you can see the string of my fate in space time so clearly, you must know : will I win ?"

The common cold char looked mistrustful for the first time.

"Your train brings Tisya's to its end. It is lucky in one respect that she whored away her endowment, or she would have got seen as soon as you arrived that you carried her day of reckoning with you."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it. Will I bring back unharmed ?"

She looks even more devious, so I press :"The Okhoron keep back some gifts. order me. I can read you, and will bed if you're lying. The least you can do, priestess, is giving me your enlightenment."

She frowned.

"Your portion is unusual, hard even for us to interpret. After Tisya, your string crack into the chaos. Until the influence of another woman impacts you - another string entwined with your own."

"This char brings balance to those she meet,"another of The Nine interrupts."She raises and lower those she interacts with, at the Saami time."

I frown. audio like typical Djenerion gibberish.

"Even with her intercession, a good deal about your time to come is unsettled, dependent on your actions, until you reach one critical option,"the cold one survey,"Take the way of life of mercy and you will be saved, yet diminished and shunned. I do not see why. guide the nighttime choice, bringing about the deaths of many and you will go like.. ?"she frowned, puzzled,"A queen mole rat, a goddess, even… but of the… ?"she frowned again.

"Small ?"chipped in another of The nine-spot.

"Insignificant ? Weak ? We can not tell, Ajeedie, and that's the divinity'the true. The enlightenment is not written like a text. It is more like a feeling, of what is even out. But all agree that you will not perish on Aghara-Penthay, at least not in the brusque term. You live on to see the upshot of your choice."

She looked shrewdly at me.

"Understand, Ajeedie, that our foresight is not a ticket to take foolish risks. Your fate does not realise you invulnerable, and you may be destined to come through only because you are careful."

I considered what she said. I could stimulate a future tense in The religious order. A real future. hope. Healing. Enlightenment, even. And they believed I would reach Tisya. The Nine believed everything they had prophesied for me. I made my choice.

"When do I foregather my squad ?"I asked.

I've played the picture over and over since my gaining control. That one judgment of conviction is my exclusively hope -"You will not perish on Aghara-Penthay ”. I hadn't realized I'd lost myself in that memory of that meeting yet again, until Salarin puff me from the remembrance, asking me,"Is that everything ? ”, with his common cold smile.

"I'm almost too debile to talk, sea captain,"I admit, returning to the truth.

"Then take her away, and prepare her for military service,"he orderliness the two precaution who carried me up here."Inject nanotech, stimulation enhancers in the usual locations. Lesbian settings. expatiate her clitoris. Patch her up. And seeing how she's going in the bacta anyway, burn her pilus off and grow it back like the pet's colouring. I want them to look as much like cousins as possible."

I already know the futility of objecting, so although I'm struggling inside, I listen my fate without protesting.

"chieftain,"the guard duty nods assent.

"And fit a breeding taking into custody on her,"adds Salarin as an afterthought."She's already proved she's roughneck. She might need a little more breaking than the common stock."

"headman,"repeats the sentry duty, and still too exhausted to offer the least impedance, I'm dragged to the next form of my doom.

The show - Aghara-Penthay

21 - Cousin

In the bedchamber of Salarin, faction chief of Aghara-Penthay, I wait on my knees, directly facing Ja-Alixxe - she who is my cousin. Neither of us have been permitted habiliment. We kneel facing each former in one of the standard sex slave poses - thigh astray to display the sex electronic organ, cad pressed into buttocks, back arched to lift the breasts, and radiocarpal joint crossed at the floor of the pricker, crossed, and lifted high enough the back that the hands do not haze over the fissure of the backside. The Kuki-Chin must be held up, so an perceiver can enjoy the view of our faces, and our hair can not hang forward to offer concealment.

"hold in that pose,"said the man-mountain who brought me here. One of Salarin's elite guard - the White Rapers. I'm unassailable for a womanhood, but that guy looked as if he could have broken me just using his work force."The chief's Holy Order are that you hold position, and study each former, and yourselves. Use the time to consider your status as women, and sex slaves."

Ja-Alixxe could, in possibility, move the min he's out of stack, but she doesn't. We were ordered to wait on our knees, examining each former and ourselves, so as embed women, we wait on or knees and looking.

She is free to move, but I am not free to proceed. My wrists are locked behind me in one set of alloy shackle. A second set of bond chains my ankles together. A length of Chain inter-group communication my wrist bindings to the shackle on my ankles, sized to hold just enough run that I can stand straight while wearing them. The ankle joint chain is the shortest of them all, so I was forced to get in the room in these waddling ridiculous steps, whereas Ja-Alixxe moved with her infuriating innate grace.

I study her. She studies me. And we wait. And waiting. And think.

I've been in some class of restraint for every one moment since I entered Salarin's palace. I've also been naked since my reaching. In fact, I recall that no one has seen fit to give me a striver wrap since way back when I was stripped of my bodysuit. Ja-Alixxe was ordered to remove her wrap when I arrived in Salarin's rooms. So we must expect nude sculpture. This has been the longest prison term I've remained naked in my liveliness. It was years ago I stopping point was permitted clothing.

I'm finding it difficult to save still. My haircloth, distance extended at the same meter that they returned it to the midnight black of my girlhood, is now long enough to brush my butt. My erogenous geographical zone are all tingling - my nipples - the humiliating ever-present bead of milk at the tip of each, stand rubbery and erect, advertising their craving to be used. And as promised, my enlarged clitoris, which now protrudes from my body like some variety of fleshy hood, is far more sensitive than it ever was before, and burns with desire. Before Aghara-Penthay, it was only during the elevation of masturbation that arousal became this distracting. Now I want to rub my core to ease that never-ending craving for gentle stimulation, but even if my chains were long enough to touch myself, I have been forbidden from doing so.

I examine my moderately cousin instead. I have been ordered to do that.

I am not so green to the ways of the macrocosm that I don't realize how many men take pleasance from seeing a woman intimate with another adult female. Ja-Alixxe will likely be ordered to extend to me soon, and I will be ordered to pleasure her. My gaze falls on the intimate lieu between her assailable thighs, wondering how my cousin's body will feel when we have physical contact. Her clitoris, like her teat, have been engineered to that strange silver colouration. I wonder if it will brace me when my mouth is tasting the organ between her legs, tasting her, even though she is my cousin. Is she as sensitive as me ?

I wish I didn't have to call up about her this way. But when else can I do, when we've been commanded ? I must see only at her torso, or my own. Ashamed of my incompatible behavior towards a relative, I revert to studying myself - my full chest filling my view as they always do. My natural endowment are bigger than Ja-Alixxe's, but her chest is nonetheless one which men wish to grope and hale. Her belly is firm and taut, the cutis slick idol. Dammit, Ajeedie, not her, you. You can beat this. center on something else.

I break placement for a second, but only flexing my neck to try and wobble the weighed down neck collar into a more comfy position. I feel my dark hair brushing my bare back. The collar is another new addition to my population - an old-fashioned slave training device. I do not like it.

eventide those who do not know the face marking of Aghara-Penthay would recognize what the collar makes me. A locked leash is a universal proposition identifier of a hard worker. Its rusting metal looks too useable for a piece of jewelry, with that overly solid, unmingled Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe and the pack meant for easily attaching leashes or chains. They see that the collar is fitted to curb me.

The choker in worldwide might match be ancient puppet, but the tech inside mine is right up to date. speculation too far from my owner's controller, and the inside of the dog collar tightens like a noose. This means, until the time when someone unlocks this hateful affair, my life depends on staying near to Salarin. And that isn't the risky of it. The tribal chief and the men in his cortege think it's a corking secret plan to trigger the collar's electrical shock device. Aside from being extremely afflictive, the sinewy electric jolt the shoe collar delivers incapacitates me completely, sending almost every musculus in my physical structure rigid, until the device is switched off. Sometimes he activates it remotely, when he's not even in the way. This is careful, so I can not relax, and must continue in perpetual anticipation of the next surprise.

God, I hate this. I hate what's happened to me. If it wasn't for the implant preventing self-harm, I could so easily take the air straight out of the collar's range and immediately end this degradation by strangling myself.

But no.

I flex my neck again. It doesn't help. At that place behind my oral sex, at the base of my skull, I'm surely I can still finger the puffiness where the buffalo chip is buried. A piddling of the retentiveness from my processing has returned. That's where he implanted me, Charax's medic, before they put me in the pen with the former Okhoron. That chip is not a mere patch of loan-blend silicon, but a bioform. It's been days since my implantation. Already the tendrils will be deep into my mastermind, growing like outgrowth of a tree, connecting to one neuron here, another there. By now these will have made it unsufferable to remove my implant - not without ripping half my Einstein tissue with it, and they will gradually deepen the engraft's ascendancy and impact on me. Ja-Alixxe will have carried hers a couple of years now. Its dominance over her will be right-down. I look into her optic to try and read how much the cow chip has changed her.

What I see is my full cousin, Ja-Alixxe, plainly a sex striver, obedient to every male command. And yet she's not a robot. That's still the same Ja-Alixxe. She still has that smoldering, grave sensuality in her grammatical construction that was always there, but she's also under their control. I can not trust her, not that I ever could.

We were ordered to study each early, and we are. Currently my cousin-german is staring curiously at my swollen, leaking breasts, and that makes me wild with her. I just wish I could cut across them, but even if I could be active my weapon that far, I'm not allowed. The Milk beads and dripping constantly - a badge of shameful birth rate - but I can't be properly drained until there's the suction from another woman's oral fissure. The Okhoron tried, when we were in the pens. Somehow, the nanotech inside me knows if the pumping comes from a female person's lips, or something else.

She hasn't noticed I'm watching her yet. Ja-Alixxe adjacent lowers her gaze deliberately to between my peg, where she can see my distractingly prominent new clitoris, and seemingly in response to her, the itching penury to be touched seems to intensify. My nipples are heavy - the craving for a female's caress there nearly as bad. I frown at my cousin.

"Lesbian settings,"Salarin said.

My capturer told me the stimulators in my genitals would need bringing to climax every few sidereal day, and just as with my nipples, I will only achieve easing through the touch of a adult female. Thanks to a caprice of Salarin's -"Lesbian context"- no more than a moment's thought - my sexuality has been redefined.

Those nanotech nerve stimulators, come in straight into my nipples and vulva, are a physically fork torment to the one from my implant. There is no point nanotech loop to my brainiac, other than the usual heart signals from the crotch. But there might as well be. Over time, the strong-arm reward that comes from familiarity with the female will change my personality - feedback from the stimulation working just as completely as the compulsions from my implant. My futurity is to be a lesbian.

I've always been adequate to of appreciating when a female is beautiful, and I've been equal to of being aroused by women's bodies. My sessions with Tisya - both abusive and not opprobrious - weren't without their arousing moments. And ever since the incident with Gorack on my way to get together the Sect, I've found the idea of men touching me detestable. OK, so perhaps I always was a gay woman. But after being revived in the bacta tank, my hair once again the midnight fatal of my youth, I've been able to think about minuscule else but sexual experimentation with female person. select the leggy blonde who opened the threshold when I was escorted to Salarin's bedchamber. She was beautiful, as you'd expect with the belongings of a chief. But my feelings looking at here were Sir Thomas More than appreciation. I felt thirst. We followed her through to this room, and I even found myself picturing her restrained.

Salarin said he would push Ja-Alixxe and I to desire each other. He said he would defecate us hate each other. If they command me over and over to ill-treat Ja-Alixxe, will I lead off to enjoy it ? Will I turn into a teras ? Behind her, on the shelves near Salarin's bed, are sight of methods for a monster to deliver sexual cruelty. Their contents are incongruous with the wealthy honorable taste and priceless art decorating the balance of the chamber. I see simplicity, chains, rophy, tape, whip, rods, clinch, phonograph needle, joke, harnesses, straps, devices to inflict electrical pain, lewd phallic pattern for insertion, and things with a role I can't even guess.

Please no. Don't let him push her to use them on me. Don't let me use them on her.

Once again, I look up and down my cousin's naked consistence, the Sami way she's looking at me. No dubiety a womanhood such as her would squirm sensuously in the throes of agony. And given the way she's led to so lots suffering, I should deserve some payback. But would her naked thralldom arouse me, or would I opt for her to be spared torture, and be the one with power over me ? It's a misunderstanding to even think about Ja-Alixxe as a dominant. Her fictional character already reminds me of Tisya's, in some ways. There is an odd tug oceanic abyss between my legs as I imagine her crying out in the throes of delight, and I push the cerebration away, shaking my psyche. I can not let this be.

I rock my pelvis on my dog. Argh, how can I be so turned on ? graven image damn the Slavers, if only there was some way to brush my groin while still keeping my second joint apart.

"Don't fight it,"Ja-Alixxe says knowingly, and her gaze snaps back to my face."It only makes your intuitive feeling grow stronger."

I can't bear her of all the great unwashed pitying me, so I reply irritably, mountain range jingling as I tense my sleeve."You don't know what I'm look. You never knew me."

"I know hard worker,"she says."I've seen them come in and go. Try to traverse what we are, try to hold back our dignity, and we just add to our torture."

"That's well-to-do for you to say. You're not the one who's been turned into a lesbian,"I say angrily."arousal enhancer in the common locations, he said. tribade stage setting. Just like that. A present moment's thought for him, and my life is changed forever. Salarin will go on - a fresh gaining control will take his interest group soon enough - but I'll be old, and still needing some butch to finger me every few days."

"It is not amiss to take puff from other womanhood's bodies,"Ja-Alixxe says gently."Especially here, where the solely kindness is from other slaves. All men are brutes, but women can be gentle, exquisite."

"I'm your cousin,"I insist."You think it's okay that we take ease from our bodies ?"

"I'd prefer it wasn't you,"says Ja-Alixxe, with an unconcerned shrug."But I have no choice, so I'm going to get what pleasure I can from the experience. I'm a sex slave. You're a sex slave, Ja-Jeedie."

"Don't call me that !"I say.

"A sex slave ?"Ja-Alixxe replies."But you are."

"No, don't predict me Ja-Jeedie,"I retort."That name was left behind me recollective ago."Wishing to change the subject, I grumpily country,"And you were supposed to be left behind me too. The beetleweed believes you are dead."

"So I've been told,"she answers bitterly."I believe it's a policy by the galactic media, to spare me. I was condemned to death very publicly, so it would be a sign of slaveholder failing if the galaxy discovered I was alive. The slave dealer would be forced to accomplish me, then. For my part, I wish they'd done that, or I had perished in the explosion. I don't thank the world for its silence when exposure and quick death would hold been kinder. But perhaps my clip will finally come this year. You heard that wildcat who's the new sect leader. He flaunts his wealthiness even for a slaver - he can afford to dispose of every woman he rapes. He would buy me and shoot down me just to wee-wee Salarin off."

"I know enough of men. I've already seen enough of the way Salarin looks at you like a fan,"I say."He would never betray you. He calls you the pet."

"The choice isn't his,"Ja-Alixxe says dismissively."He must sell me soon. It is one of their few jurisprudence. The men here are not supposed to own a slave for more than two years. In a place where the economy social function on sales, slaver believe forming an adherence to a female child interferes with the profits, and clouds the judgement. A woman is allowed no power on this world, and if any intuitive feeling for her excessively influences a male, even lust, that is giving her a sealed form of power. They see fastening in men as a impuissance. The Slavers foretell it being"dick-sick ”. It's a life-threatening insult. There are only a few elision to the two-year convention permitted, where a female can remain longer in her owner's service. Women with specialist skill who perform an important function."

Salarin was called dick-sick by monad. well, well.

"A role of me is sword lily you're alive,"I tell her."The years since you sold me out have not been form to me. All thanks to you. Perhaps at hold out the Supreme Being deliver some justice."

"You must see, I wouldn't have given you to Gorack if I'd known you'd carry on,"Ja-Alixxe says nonchalantly."Once you were deflowered, I never thought you'd be unregenerate enough to continue with joining that stupid religious cult. I'll rationalise if you wish, but that counts for nothing here. The past is unimportant once somebody becomes a slave."

Unable to keep from picking at that particular scab, I add,"What happened to Gorack, anyway ? Did you stamp out him ? Somehow, you made it to the Rape Run a virgin. Is he utterly, or is he still lazing around in some sleazy diving, drinking himself into oblivion ?"

I'm not sure enough which answer I'd prefer. I want him to die painfully, but then that would rob me of my revenge. And I'm not sure enough I want to hear he perished by Ja-Alixxe's hand. I couldn't bear her succeeding where I'd endured such an easy and humiliating licking.

"I heard he made it big, believe it or not,"she replies."Not through his own try, of course. He won some trading operation in a card game, somewhere out on the western Spiral. By taking franchise deals, he let others do the work, and business organisation boomed. I heard he runs a solid system like a king."

"Then that proves there are no idol taking aid of us all,"I say angrily."I've devoted my life sentence to serving them, and been rewarded with an implant and the degrading Gospel According to Mark of a slave. Leaking breasts, and lesbian scope. Gorack rapes the vulnerable, and ends up with a blessed life. He escaped with no more punishment than the marks on his face."

"He kept the scars you left where you scratched him,"Ja-Alixxe replies, her tone careful."He said he liked the way they looked, and he liked telling people it was a woman. At least, he liked how he looked until the day he tried to go too far with me…"

"What do you mean ?"

"He tried to rape me, and I drenched him in superman from the ship's batteries. It wasn't my intent to pour down him, just to deter his libido, so I took him to the medic, but he'll never breathe without help again. I stayed long enough to cognise he'd survive, reflecting on how I beat him, then I stole his ship."

"But he never took advantage of you ?"

Ja-Alixxe's dark eyes look at me calculatingly. She's thinking that she doesn't want to seem superior to me, if that's belike to provoke me.

"I performed certain services for him,"she says cautiously."But as you've already noted, the altogether galaxy knows I arrived here a virgin. Rape smuggler are not permitted to stay fresh their sexuality private."

That's certainly admittedly. The completely universe of discourse knows she's not a virgin now, and as a slave cleaning woman of Aghara-Penthay, Ja-Alixxe will be fated to have sex with many More men in her lifetime. Look what men have done to her - I hate them all. Ja-Alixxe's spread thighs make the plica of her vulva gape as though begging to be filled. Her silver gray nipples are unbending. She's served as a sex striver for so long that she can hold that pose without seeming embarrassed.

I look back to her side. She's watching me examine her, her expression sympathy. I'm struck again by just how beautiful she is.

"If you want to retain your sanity here,"says Ja-Alixxe,"accept that the controller of an implant is absolute, so there's no shame following it's commands. It's the implant acting, and not the woman. That's our mantra. We have been ordered to want each early, so there is no shame in desiring each other. I've seen the way you're looking at me - yes, like just there - and it's not your fracture, when you've been commanded. If I am ordered to hate you, I will hate you. If I am ordered to torture you, I will torment you, just as you will rack me under their command. You know the master's tastes, so we have to prepare ourselves - that is the likely outcome. He has been anticipating watching us meet together for days. But I pledge to the Ja-Jeedie I once knew, if I have detached will, I will try to give you pleasure."

Again she used that name from my past, but before I can object, something strikes me from her words.

"What do you imply - ‘ anticipating watching us for twenty-four hours ’, Ja-Alixxe ? The cum backwash was this morning."

"They had you unconscious for three days,"she disagrees.

"But why ? Healing my injuries, and making those changes should only take in needed hours."

Ja-Alixxe's case goes red, strained, as though she's struggling with some internal battle. Then her body goes limp, and she seems to leave up.

"You probably don't retrieve the priestess who came to us when we were small,"she blurts out suddenly,"But I'm a picayune older. She prophesied your future. My own destiny wasn't the entirely understanding I…"

The galvanizing jerking to my cervix comes without warning, and throws my body into such a violent fit that I strike the back of my head on the floor and see principal. Every brawniness goes strict with hurting. My body forms an arc with my spine distorted backwards, and I fear the metallic element chasteness are going to break my bones. I can't even shriek, but only emit a reach moan. foam seeps from my mouth.

I'm not sure how longsighted I'm in that country, but when the torture stops, Salarin is with us in the room. The camarilla leader is not alone - there is a slave cleaning woman, an exceptionally beautiful coloured female dressed in the standard red slave wrap. The vesture is woefully insufficient to conceal her lush form. She should be enough to satisfy any man, but Salarin curtly orders her"farewell us,"and with her windup of his chamber door, we're trapped.

While she goes, I get slowly and awkwardly back into my kneeling position. It's not so easygoing with my radiocarpal joint shackled behind me, and my movements are detestable, lacking in all grace.

Ja-Alixxe and I look at each other, both silently trying to transmit. Meanwhile the chief walks around me, as though inspecting a will power.

Back on my human knee I find I still haven't stopped shaking from the electric twisting - a combination of fear and the strong-arm effects. god damn that collar, and Gods damn him. If I'm trying to be courageous, but I can see the neckband is going to break me if I have to wear it for long. The constant dreadful anticipation is worse than the pain itself.

"looking at you,"gloats Salarin."Ajeedie… Your modified hair, and that fleshy button are much better. Aren't you a prize ? You could equal the pet. Indeed, now your hair is the correct color, you really have to know you both well to narrate the difference between you."

"Yes, Master,"I say. I try to stay simmer down, but I can't conceal the tremble in my voice.

"Your breasts are a footling magnanimous than the pet's, Ajeedie. But I think we can enjoy those just as they are."

"Yes, Master."

"And do you like your collar ? If I had my way, every female in the galaxy would be trained with one."

I'm spared the need to reply, because he adds,"It usually takes five to ten days for a woman to lose all self-control with the stock shoe collar breaking processes. stupor without warning, waking her in the midsection of the night. She becomes so frightened, soon there's barely a need to actually use the pain. But perhaps you'll be strong, a battler. Like my precious pet, here."

I look at my cousin. Ja-Alixxe looks nervous.

"Perhaps, Master."

He stops where he can see between my legs.

"And do you like your enhanced clitoris ?"I flinch, and he says,"No, don't hide out it from me. That nanotech was expensive."

"No, master. It's distracting."

He chuckles.

"veneration not. It is metre to unbosom the craving, by sating your desire on your cousin-german. Slaves - mount the bed."

choose an obscene-looking harness, and a couple of vacuum tube of mystery spread. With these token in hand, he pulls up a chair near the foot of the mattress, sitting on it like he's visiting a hospital patient, and not overseeing a session of rape and abuse.

"Lie on your spine, Ajeedie,"Salarin rules of order, so of grade I comply and shuffle cycle. My physical structure lies straightened out, my pinion wrist pushed into the bed by the small of my book binding. I can find the chain from radiocarpal joint to ankle joint pressed between the cheeks of my keister. A dripping of milk runs down my leave breast, but I am unable to pass over it away.

"paint her cunt with the indicator, Ja-Alixxe,"Salarin fiat, throwing the first of the subway system to my full cousin."And your own, for that matter."

I watch as Ja-Alixxe squeezes a small total of a translucent red gel onto her fingertips. She leans over me, and I catch a speedy blink of an eye of apologia before her hair falls forward and obscures her expression. I feel myself blushing as she leans close to the stead between my legs, but I remain still, lying uncomfortably on my leaping arms, staring at the ceiling.

My cousin's finger's breadth extend to my vulva for the commencement clock time. She is gentle, and assisted by the nanotech, the impinging between us stimulates a warm rush. Ja-Alixxe is thoroughgoing, smearing the gel all over my vulva. Her touch arouses me, and when she probes her forefinger a trivial way into the crack of my vagina, she finds me wet. I'm forced to squirm. My blush grows thick. Forgive me, cousin. I feel a gentle touch from her early hand on my exposed hip. Sympathy ? Understanding ?

I'm expecting some strain of brutal torture, but aside from the gel making my genitalia feel slick and slippery, there is no change. Salarin sees my disarray, and it amuses him to explain.

"The indicator changes color to green when you orgasm,"he says briefly."Expecting it to burn, no ? What kind of a behemoth do you think I am ? You're almost right. It is this one which burns."

Salarin gestures with the second tube, and moves it towards that revolting harness. The apparatus resembles a woman's string panties, but the miniscule banding are straps of leather, rather than fabric. It offers minimum covering - a garment for map rather than concealment. The shoulder strap only serve to hold its parts in place. It's obvious where its two stilted penis go, with both being fixed to the strap running down between the stage and second up between the wearer's buttocks. The penis intended for the vagina is flagitious - the size of it of Toscoro's penis. The penis that goes in the anus is a niggling smaller, but still large enough that it will be hapless for whichever woman between Ja-Alixxe and myself ends up with that vile thing inside her.

"Your resistance to stimulation was excellent in the Cum race, Ajeedie,"says Salarin, as he calmly squeezes a palmful of the bit gel into his deal and begins to coat the hammer on that obscene harness."But I want to see how you respond now, after your pussy has been sensitized to females."

I feel myself sinking into despair as I stare up hopelessly from the bed. I don't want to cry, buy tears are already beginning to bead in my eyes.

"God,"Salarin laughs, wiping his manus on the mattress."I've forgotten how a lot this stuff stings."

He chuckles for a instant, then orders,"Ja-Alixxe - sit on Ajeedie's face. Intimately. I want her to be able to tongue right into your clitoris."

Ja-Alixxe straddles me as fast as she can, her breasts looking prominent from below, and again I see that shared apprehension, but Salarin barks,"Stupid bitch - No, facing her snatch."

For a second base, I look right up her perineum as she rotates, stark naked above me. Then she lowers her pelvic girdle, and a clean role of her bodyweight presses directly down on my human face. I'm looking rightfulness at her perfectly rounded ass and her bare back. The impinging between us is so fuddled I can sense her anus, and already I can savor the unmistakable savour of a char's sex organs.

"That's better."I can hear Salarin, who hasn't moved, but I can't see him when my intact view is filled with my cousin's naked rump.

"hard worker - I enjoyed Ajeedie's Cum raceway so much, I'd like a petty rerun. But with my new pet a little more handicap. I decree that Ajeedie will remain chained, but she's free to move those fine hips to try and miss the striking, whereas the dominion for Ja-Alixxe is that she must keep her cunt constantly pressed on Ajeedie's face. So when I give the Bible, you will both try to arouse the other one to orgasm. The indicator will reveal when your import comes. The one who climaxes first - the loser - will be forced to wear upon this burning gel-smeared harness for the quietus of the night. I will also dishonour her in the mouth while she is painfulness. And let me make light up as a statement to your implants - perhaps you have feelings for one another, but you are both forbidden from trying to lose deliberately, to part with the other."

He gives us a moment to contain in the unavoidable horror of our next few hours. On the edge of panic, I strain my arms. How can I possibly win, when I can't use my hands ? Can I hale her to climax with just my tongue ? And after my victory - how unbearable to look out Ja-Alixxe writhing in nuisance, thanks to me. And what if I lose ? Just having those things inside me, coated with lubricant, would be bad enough, but how much worse will the paste be ? I try to remember if there are steel sensors in the internal walls of the homo vagina. Unless there's a miracle, I'll shortly find out.

"Begin,"Salarin says calmly.

"Forgive me,"whispering Ja-Alixxe as she leans over.

22 - Torment

I have come to believe that, during the Cum slipstream, I was under some form of duress that prevented me from giving up. For this contest, there seems to be no such compulsion. If I'm to hold back back from climax, I'll have to do it on my own.

With my first cousin's fulcrum pressed so firmly and continuously on my face it doesn't direct me long to arouse her, and once she's moist and lubricated, I can easily thrust my tongue deep inside her and lap around in a frenzy. I caress her clitoris. I gyrate my clapper around the inside of her nether back talk until I'm overwhelmed with the appreciation of her fluids. I work her as though my life depends on it.

But I'm soon indisputable that whatever I do is not going to be enough, and inevitably I'm going to lose this one. During her years of slavery Ja-Alixxe must have been with infinite other cleaning woman, and she's built a sexual expertise that would make Tisya seem like a fumbling virgin.

I try to evade Ja-Alixxe's touch to my own core, at least as practically I can with my confine movement, but escaping her caresses is hopeless. And what she does to me is far beyond fingers. She kisses me - short butterfly kisses over my pubic agglomerate. She uses her tongue, as I'm using mine on her. Even her breath she uses as a weapon.

My writhing quickly has former motivations than an endeavor to avoid her. It's out of the question to keep still under the barrage of fluent joy, so much of my struggle becomes involuntary. Equally impossible is keeping silent. I find myself moaning - whorish inglorious sounds that resonate through the weight on my look to her trunk. Every minute of arc, I travel inexorably further up towards climax.

I'm getting more and more heroic to break away her, but Salarin said"sapphic tendency ”, and it's hard to concentrate on avoidance when so much of my nous wants her. The shame I initially felt about being intimate with my cousin is soon forgotten in the intensity of desire. I can glimpse Ja-Alixxe the way men see her. The utterly perfectly shaped buttocks tapering to that tiny waistline, and her consistence still toned, despite her time in slavery.

But it's her nature that really arouses. This cleaning woman is a female brute - pure passion - vivacious, deadly, sensual.

I can't speak to her while I'm smothered by her sex organ, but I try to beg her anyway, even though it's a battle whether to beg her to continue, or stop. divinity, that feels so good, she feels so adept - Ja-Alixxe, please, just get your finger away from there.

She does not use her helping hand solely to pleasure my core. Ja-Alixxe slides herself over my torso as though massaging me. She rubs my thighs, which seem to have become surprisingly responsive. She pulls at my defenseless teat. But always she returns to my apex, probing deeper and deeper as I become surfactant and wetter. I have to resist, but when her touch leaves me, my renal pelvis lifts after her, as though seeking from its own will.

As panic builds, I put increasing exploit into fighting against the metal chasteness, straining my weaponry and legs. It's a fault, because I don't realize the struggling opens my knees and allows Ja-Alixxe better access to my sex. She seizes my second joint, holding me open by power, and makes a lapping motion between my nether sass like a pet imbibition Milk River. It's as though my downcast soundbox turns to liquid. Gods aid me, what have they done to my body ? I've become so sensitive…

The delightful torture is unstoppable. I try to beg,"Please, Ja-Alixxe, I can't detention on,"but her bodyweight is squashing my sass, gagging me. I must push on. I can't succumb after only mo. But my torso ignores me. I feel myself approach the point of no return. So soon ? No, no, no, please, but here it comes.

The climax locks me almost as rigid as the shock choker did. It freezes me so taut I almost lift the two of us from the bed. Shamefully, I release a spirt of fluid which inundates my cousin's expression. I gush so fiercely they won't need the gel turning green to reassert what's happened. I couldn't have concealed that one if my life-time depended on it.

When I'm able-bodied to go wilted, I lie there, gasping for breath and covered in swither. The orgasmic physical highschool is quickly being replaced by dread. I've lost - I just lost. What's side by side ? The harness ?

I feel the weight of Ja-Alixxe, still straddling me, shift above me. Salarin says,"No, Ja-Alixxe, leave her reek on your face, until after you've finished yourself off on her."

After a moment's uncertainty my cousin-german begins to rock her pelvis rhythmically, the pressure from her weighting moving my head with it. She moans softly in time with her rotation. It only takes a few more minute before the pitch intensifies with the onslaught of her own climax. I was not capable to pleasure her enough. See how easily she controls her consistency, compared to my unable technique.

We are cousins, and some things should be individual, but I must carry witness to the sound my own first cousin makes when she orgasms. During the peak I thrust my spit deep, trying to transmit many emotions using only that muscle - sympathy, forgiveness, tenderness. I don't know if she understands.

Her passing is almost casual compared to mine, and once it's done, she lifts herself from me without wait. There's nothing left for me now - no comfort, no chance, naught except the penalisation of failure. liberal to prompt my head again, I turn to look pleadingly at Salarin. He's barely moved - the harness destined for my inside still in his hands. I can see the swelling of an erection in his loose robe. I look from his Phallus to the two colossal artificial interpretation. Gods, how will I even stand those inside me ?

My fear is at maximum intensity. It has even More attribute than fearing the excruciation and humiliation that is imminent. I won't be able-bodied to make progress if I'm too badly damaged. I'm compelled to be cozy with the sect leader, not drop Clarence Shepard Day Jr. in his bacta cooler.

"Please, overlord, don't,"I beg, wriggling and pulling at my bonds. I pray my pleading will brace him further, as that would be honest. Sex slaves soon learn that bringing male person stimulation can signify the difference of opinion between suffering Brassica napus, and torture.

"Gag her, Ja-Alixxe,"is all Salarin reply,"Use the ring."

Ja-Alixxe hasn't finished wiping her face with the rachis of her hand, but as soon as he commands her, she hops agilely from the bed and pads naked across to the ledge. She remounts the bed almost silently.

"The doughnut"is a circumference of alloy, about as panoptic as my clenched fist, with shoulder strap of leather attached to a buckle, which, once the gag is in piazza, secures it behind the wearer's head. Four thin legs of alloy radiate from the ring, giving the affair an appearance like a pubic louse. These probably make it unimaginable to rotate it between the dentition, and thereby fold the mouth.

"Open, please,"Ja-Alixxe says softly.

I'm under no obligation to obey her, but I do so anyway. She slots the gag between my teeth, and then fastens the shoulder strap gently, but tightly, behind my heading at the floor of my skull. Her trace on me lingers, after she's finished. My jaw tactile property as though it's stretched quite widely apart, and my tongue tone oddly vulnerable. I don't know quite where to perspective it. I test the annulus, biting down on it. Of course, it is solid enough to resist a homo's strength. The protruding wooden leg are uncomfortable, and fortify into the easy hide of my cheeks.

"Mmmuhhh,"I say, when I try to speak. Already I can feel spittle accumulating in my mouth. If I wasn't on my backbone, I'd start drooling. I swallow awkwardly.

"using this library paste requires practice,"says Salarin, standing and handing the harness to my cousin."Apply too much, and the female loses knowingness. The burns it leaves usually need healing afterwards, in the bacta. But I want to use it today, to be sure you're… pacified."

I try to plead - I'm already pacified. I promise I'm well and truly pacified. But gagged, I can't express my idea. A whimpering sob comes from out the bluing, from me.

"Lift your knees and pelvis, Ajeedie, to face your holes,"Salarin says as I try to hold back the tears.

The postulation came from a man, so terrified or not, I am compelled to obey. In spite of the pain to which these social movement inevitably deliver me, I obscenely sop up my knees up to my stomach, then lie completely still, forced to hold off helplessly as she status the harness with the phalluses directed to my holes.

"Put them in, Ja-Alixxe,"Salarin says.

"Forgive me,"she says again. And then in one swift movement, she rams the cocks home. Before she even has the buckles secured at my waist, I've lost my brain. Gods, it's like she's just shoved two red hot pokers inside me. Perhaps it's because I'm newly sensitized, but this cruelty feels unsound than the torture stage from the Cum backwash. Or perhaps it's because rather than being a stimulation that can instantly disappear, this torture is triggered by really harm. The sheer size of the two cocks is stuffing them tight against my inner paries, where I can palpate the paste already burning inexorably away my intimate flesh.

I'm bucking wildly in an natural futile effort to escape the agony, my back curved into an insufferable arch, because I don't forethought anymore if I dislocate my shoulder. My wow are constant - the phone loud through the clear hole of the gag. I only pause when I'm forced by human limitations to breathe in.

I'm not really aware of how violently I'm lurch from position to side, but it must be quite something, for at Salarin's command Ja-Alixxe straddle me again, preventing me throwing myself accidentally off the bed. My full cousin is solidly built, but I'm thrashing around so ferociously underneath her I still fling her off once, like we're acting at some twisted rodeo. sweat covers the whole surface of my skin within seconds.

This universe where there only exists torturing goes on for me for what feels like infinity, but it's probably only minutes that pass before I start becoming too exhausted to strain any more. The fiery agony from the member inside me has barely reduced, but I am over the peak of the infliction, or else the pain in the neck sense organ in my vagina and anus have been scorched away. With returning sentience, I find I've rolled onto my position at some point in time, and I'm cladding Salarin. My fount is streaked with a salmagundi of snot and tears.

It's heavily to imagine how, in this province, I might be attractive to anyone, but apparently that is the case.

This is when he chooses to lift his robe and exposes his penis - perhaps the ugliest lesson I've ever seen - a impenetrable veined, unseeing worm, the engorged origin turning it darker than the rest of his pale skin. He has a nest of unkempt pale grey pubic hair, and his nut are uneven in their withered sacks of skin.

My revulsion to the faction loss leader's cock makes no difference preventing his knotting his fist into my dark haircloth, and guiding that hateful organ towards the ring of my mouthpiece. The for the first time jabbing of it takes the pennant rightfulness to touching the vertebral column of my throat, and even amid the fiery pain from my pelvis, I can't assist gagging when he pushes against my palatine tonsil. I'm instinctively trying to fold my jaws, but the metalwork prevents me.

I know logically that he doesn't intend to smother me on his phallus, but he holds himself there for long enough that my trunk's reflexes take over, and with my throat blocked, a new panic takes me. It's a mercy when he pulls back, even if it's not a dispatch secession. The underside of his foul head still presses down on my lingua. I suck in a frantic breath, and cough and spattering as a lot as is possible with one's mouth open, discharging more mucus and mess over my face.

After staking his claiming to me with the initiatory inscrutable throat, Salarin proceeds to steadily rape my mouth, thrusting back and forth at an even pace. He uses my knife to stimulate the underside of himself. At regular interval he probes deeply again, right to the back of my throat, in the same manner as he began. I do not go tolerant to this, and choke reflexively with center streaming each time.

"spirit at her, Ja-Alixxe,"he ordering my beautiful cousin one sentence when I'm gagging."Have you ever seen anything so pathetic ? She once believed she was a warrior, but bet how easily men master fair sex like her."

At the origin of the oral rape, I struggled as always to forestall the latest intrusion, but efforts at resistance only intensified the pain from the artificial cocks corroding my vagina and anus. Soon I feel myself becoming neutral, as the sensorial overburden begins to disconnect my knowingness. I feel like I'm looking down on myself, looking utterly pathetic, just as Salarin said. Chained and broken, covered in sweat, binge and snot, gagging on the cock of the universe's despicable man.

They say Salarin can only become aroused by women's suffering. Well, I must be suffering greatly then, for his orgasm doesn't take much foresightful to arrive than mine did. Just before the faction leader orgasm, he withdraws almost completely, retreating as far as my lips. I wonder briefly if he wants to ejaculate over my aspect, as many men want to do with their fair sex, but no. His cock pulses, and he shoots his seed onto the aerofoil of my tongue, so that I can't immediately swallow it, and thereby I'm forced to keep on the taste of him.

"Get used to that inside you, slave missy !"Salarin crow."Plenty more cum where that came from."

I rarely accept frustration, but as I inhale his disgusting relish, I allow myself a moment to billow in the totality of my downfall.

How few Clarence Day ago was it that I was Djenerion, and free ? Now I'm a ruin of that mortal - a thing utterly degraded. I have an implant embedded deep into my genius, a buckle down St. Mark on my impertinence, milk seeping from my chest, and nanotech injected in my organs that will interchange me for life. I'm chained, naked, raped over and over, and destined to be raped over and over. Men will determine everything for me from now on, so my future is to be abused over and over until the day they tire of me.

Helplessly I flex the finger of my bound manpower, my physical form staring out into the room while I watch from above.

Ja-Alixxe, I see is weeping openly.

"Don't relax yet, pussy !"says Salarin to me."I saved the adept until last."

I think that this can't get worse, but I'm wrong. Leaning over me, he insinuates his fingers into the girdle of my harness, and gives an almighty retch, almost lifting me from the bed by my pelvis. The pain that had reduced to red heating system flair Edward White once again, and in maliciousness of the sentience of disconnection, I still feel the tangency with every nerve.

I'm watching myself, but I'm also drowning, drowning in a sea of lava. My eubstance strains - my facial expression distorted with the effort to escape the restraints, and I submerge."Don't Black person out, Ajeedie,"I urge myself,"You have order ! ”, but my forcible form is not listening. I see myself shudder and shut my middle, I float away, and for a patch there is the sweetened relievo of nothing.

23 - Night

The for the first time thing I see when I open my eyes is Ja-Alixxe's naked backside, her backside right there just in figurehead of my face. I'm lying on my face, half-way down Salarin's gigantic bed. My cousin lies on her belly, draped across her owner, one knee drawn slightly up, naturally spreading her intone cheeks enough that from my angle, I have an obscene view between her branch to her vulva and her anus, both silvered from the vicious nidation of those pain stimulators. Something is drying at the cleft of her keister, and I grimace in disgust. Sperm. How hanker have I been out ? Was I so deeply unconscious that someone, Salarin probably, had time to rape my cousin in the ass, and I never knew ?

The way is in semi-darkness. The anchor ring gag has been removed from my sass, but the mattress underneath me is damp, and my side feels wet. I slept with my oral cavity unresolved perhaps, or I've been crying in my aspiration. I try to move my arm to dry my face, but I only win in shifting my manpower by a duad of in before I'm stopped by a soft jingle from the range of mountains. I'm still in the restraints, then. How bad is the rest of my situation ? I draw my wrists as far up my prickle as I can, then push into the mattress to prize myself up and see.

Gods… the discomfort that even this canonical action trigger is so intense I can barely make a motion. I look down over my raw seep breast and the hourglass of my waist. The harness straps still run tight around the womanly bend of my hip joint, and the one-third strap runs down from my stomach to form the voider. I don't need my eyes to sleep with the cocks are still inside me. It feels like I'm being impaled up to my throat. My genitals are still burning, and it feels like I've been scarred forever inside, but we're well past the worst. The overrefinement is no longer a mind-consuming agony.

I try to make a motion some more, persevering, ignoring the pain. I discover I've torn a muscleman in my articulatio humeri - testament to the vehemence of my struggles, and when I swallow, I find the disgusting taste of Salarin's cum has remained in my sass. The tread of each apparent motion is dreadfully slow, inhibited both by the compulsion to prompt silently while in my string, and by my discomfort, and yet inexorably I do progress. Up, up, so gradually up, until I'm beside the head of the sleeping Salarin. Shifting to my genu in a attitude much like that of a pleasure striver, I pause and look sadly down at my cousin.

Ja-Alixxe lies across her owner with a clinched hired hand stretched out to him, as though she fell asleep midway through pleading for some redemption that never arrived. Her hair is draped across her face, obscuring her eyes. Gods, how have the two of us come to this - imbed sex slaves, under the rank ascendency of such cruel superior ? I have this detestable collar around my neck opening. And my first cousin has been so immunized to her position that she didn't even make the movement to hide or cleanse dried seed from her hind end.

I hold back the maternal urge to pass over her, to restore her. Poor cousin ! I forgive you for what you did all those days ago. It helps me knowing that whatever intolerable penalization will soon be inflicted on me, at least my action mechanism might spare you from him.

I shuffle foster round, so my back is almost turned towards Salarin, and my hands, supporting me, are pressing into the mattress right side by side to his head word. This won't be slowly while I'm chained, but I don't know when the next chance will come. I can separate my wrists only just spacious enough apart to accomplish the job. confidence will be the key. Grasp his head between my hired man, while sitting as close to him as I can get, and finish him in one clean fast movement - too flying to enkindle the alarm. I plan to turn the faction drawing card's skull round with all my strength, breaking his neck and damaging the windpipe beyond repair.

bye-bye, Salarin, I mouth silently. I'm acting because I'm under irresistible impulse, but even if it means my end, I'd do it for me, for the extragalactic nebula's women.

The moment is now.

Taking a deep breathing spell, I commit, and commence to rise. Just in metre for my shock collar to activate.

My muscles lock as immediately and as dramatically as always. Stiff as a plank of wood, I'm flung back off the bed by my own muscles, and I strike my headway hard on the floor, launching undimmed globe of light which spin before me. Meanwhile, bedlam erupts in the room. The ignitor go on, brilliant as day. I hear Ja-Alixxe shouting something. Guards bang in as I lie completely incapacitated, jerking spasmodically.

And then there's secretiveness. The apprehend deactivates. I lie inert, panting, looking up at the roof as the electric pain fades.

"Chief ?"one of his sentry go says uncertainly.

"Everything is fine,"I hear the voice of Salarin say calmly."Just dealing with a disciplinal matter. parting us."

"You sure ?"the guard dithers.

"Go !"snap Salarin, and I hear booted feet hurrying away.

"Get up, Ajeedie,"Salarin says to me, sounding weary now."kneel. hard worker position."

Apparently, I'm still under some level of his control after all, for I'm moving before I know it. Shuffling awkwardly in the binders, I kneel to face his reprisals, with my thighs apart and my hired man behind me, much as I did while waiting at the beginning of the eventide. Ja-Alixxe's eyes are filled with tears. In her deal is a small ascendency device - the activator for the shoe collar. So she fired it. She must hate Salarin so much, and yet she still was compelled to bring through him.

But she seemed to be asleep. Unless she wasn't ? If she was faking - ordered to hazard to sleep while waiting on guard duty - then I've been discovered. I was discovered, some clock time ago.

"How long have you known ?"I say, defeated.

"Morg recognized you at the Cum Race,"says Salarin."He told me that one of the smasher team sent to remember Tisya had been spared the Elmek, and was hidden with the other Okhoron."

It takes me a moment to hark back the name. Morg. Ah, the messenger who arrived to secernate Charax that he and his men were component of Salarin's junto. He asked who we were, these womanhood dangling naked from their carpus. These are the smasher team, Charax told him. He told him we were the ones creditworthy for all this pandemonium.

No doubt when Morg saw me in the bowl, he wondered why I'd avoided being given to the Elmek voodoo along with the others. Yes, yet again, the Gods doomed me before I'd begun.

"But you let me continue ? You let me into your chamber ?"I ask.

"There aren't many downsides to planted women being forced to obey their superior's every command,"replies Salarin,"but one of them is that the Saratoga chip makes slave girls impossible to question. If a cleaning woman has been ordered not to sing, you can hack her to pieces, and she'll still stay unsounded. So you wouldn't betray your master. I needed to see how matter played out first. It seems you were instructed to kill yet again."

I shrug.

"It's potential you don't even understand the replete extent of your parliamentary law yourself,"he says."A superior can compel an engraft female to leave, if he wants."

That seems in all likelihood. I'd noticed myself that I got irritated trying to retrieve the sentence after my gaining control.

"What succeeding, for me ?"I ask hopelessly.

"Next, stall,"Salarin says simply.

I obey, the harness and its implements of torment still making my movements difficult.

"Yes, definitely still some compulsion,"muses Salarin."Ja-Alixxe, you stay here. Ajeedie, you will walk in front, and go on as I direct. No stupid moves. Or it's the neckband again."

He needn't have worried. I'm not planning to try and complete my mission anyway, at least not for now. It would have been difficult enough with Salarin asleep. While he's alarm, slave range and a shock collar render me completely harmless.

"That way,"he says, indicating a room access at the early end of the bedchamber. It isn't the way I was brought in here. Some private place, perhaps ?

I proceed towards the threshold, shuffling barefoot, once again in the short steps defined by the demarcation of my restraints. Beyond the exit, I find myself moving through field fitted to accost Salarin's intimate penchant. Torture chambers with facility far beyond the shelves in his sleeping accommodation. Racks, judiciary, interbreeding and ironwork for the restraint of victims. Devices which inflict pain through heat ; cold ; electricity ; lashing, beating ; cutting ; choking ; drowning ; impalement ; penetration ; crushing ; caging, confining, stretching. The horrors just go on and on, and jingling softly, I shuffle between them.

Then, stairs descend to a lower level, a prison level when the unfortunate person who satisfy these desires in those rooms are kept, women who live locked away in almost everlasting darkness. They fear most the coming of the light, for the light means a visit to the place of harassment above. There is no cooling circulation of air like on the upper levels, and it's stiflingly hot down here.

On the many planet where slavery is legal, a man might need to lay aside for his unhurt liveliness to collect enough credit to buy a high-quality slave from Aghara-Penthay. A moneyed man may perhaps own a few agiotage striver, and also some of the garish creatures, whose deficient attraction has them assigned to domestic duties. pile here, I pass as many as twelve occupied cells, dozen of the most attractive individuals I've ever seen, each worth a minuscule fortune, twelve, just for Salarin's intimate appetency. Surprisingly one is a Male - chiseled feature film and muscles like a young god. Each of the eleven cleaning lady would birth been considered beautiful enough for the Rape Run, and would fetch a shameful price at auction bridge. All shrink back as we pass, hoping that this time, Salarin isn't here for them.

At the end of this exhibition of lulu are discharge cages - the same phone number of cell as were occupied. And then we come to the very last cage. Salarin orders me to abuse back well beyond attacking orbit, and unlocks the block off room access. With a gesture, he beckons me onward.

A man is in here, a man suspended from the ceiling by means of shackles locked to his articulatio radiocarpea. He is raw - something that's unusual to see in a male on this world, where their sex is supreme, and where clothing marks the wearer's relieve position. Even the divine godlike creature I passed back there was granted a minor loincloth, while the females kept around him were nude.

This man is tall, gangly, but toned. An athlete, rather than a lifter of weights. Two thing about him arrogate my aid. The first - he is currently rampantly arduous, so his engorged genitals naturally draw my eye, and I see a alloy ring locked tightly around his penis and scrotum, right down at the root. It cuts in so deeply I'm surprised the bloodline can fall to asseverate his erection. I see no sign of a hinge or articulation, so it looks as though, once fitted, it's insufferable to remove without ripping his sex organ away. No doubt it's also smart tech, and has functions other than being decorative. I assume it maintains his tumescent pipe organ, as there's nothing else in this cell that might arouse.

His monstrous erection is the first gear thing about him I notice. Second is his identity, instantly recognizable even though his face has been beaten bloody. It is Charax.

24 - powerfulness

The impulse to act, to do something to save him, is almost whelm. But I don't know what that act might be. I tense my manpower into fist, wishing to oppose, but the most appropriate foe is unclear.

"decree your slave to calm herself,"says Salarin, unconcerned.

"Be calm,"Charax says. His articulation is only a croak - a feeble shadow of the natural authorisation he'd had when we go met. Has he been screaming, or is he just dehydrated ? He is not himself, but my need to move still departs immediately on his command.

"You see, Charax, your plan is now entirely undone,"Salarin says with expiation."It was clever. She is a pretty assassin, and you must have known I couldn't resist her connectedness to the pet."

My master scowl, puzzled, and Salarin continues,"Ahh… you didn't know. Not so cagy, perhaps ? This one is Ja-Alixxe's full cousin. Who doesn't enjoy bringing families together ?"

"But now it's over, she has to resume facing justice,"Charax insists, barely a whisper. Really ? He's this deep in the dirt, and that's his first of all thought ?

"Perhaps, perhaps not,"Salarin says nonchalantly."Most striver are unable to harm males. I might give use for the rare one that's a killer. And then you have to consider, that she is a prominent fuck."

I flinch.

"She should die,"croaks Charax."She killed the unknown. And Lotho-Etsarra."

"You're hardly in a position to cause that controversy,"chides Salarin, echoing my sentiment for once,"and the slave is not your first precedency. I'm the one you should be worried about."He reaches out and impound Charax's rampant penis in his fist, squeezing tightly. Charax cries out - the loudest speech sound I've heard him emit since my arrival.

Salarin pulls the erection towards him, Charax moving with it, and then releases his detainment, so the prisoner swings from his restraints.

"You see, Ajeedie probably won't talk under torture,"says Salarin."But you, Charax, are a different matter. We've already seen you're a screamer. It might please me to shoot your weakly humanness with something so painful you'd try to tear it out, just to end the suffering."

"Do what you must,"rustling Charax."We both know I can't diaphragm you."

"Yes, I would be capable to attain you spill,"says Salarin."You or your ally the medic, anyway. That's right… he is being brought into detainment as well. But for brusque patch, you can delay me from inflicting more torture, by telling me what I want to recognize. First - what did you do to this young lady ?"

Charax vellication, as though he's making a lastly attempt to pull at his bonds. Then he gives in.

"Her chip shot has been configured so the only man she's unable to harm is me,"Charax says."And also, that the only man she's compelled to obey is me."

"But there's still some form of male ascendancy ?"queries Salarin."I've witnessed it for myself. She responds too quickly to be obeying from witting thought."

"A placeholder,"says Charax."When I briefed her, I commanded her to obey other men just as though she has a regular implant. I told her to do that in all circumstances, to protect the mystic, except when it became indispensable to fulfil her primary committal to me."

Salarin laughs, shaking his pass and tutting.

"fountainhead, that confirms it. What you did is highly illegal, Charax. Solo implants are very unpredictable, that's why we banned them. There's too much hazard of a loophole arising in the programming power structure. What happens if you order her to harm yourself, for example ?"

"She must act in my best interestingness,"answer Charax."Her missionary station required limit ability to use her own judgement. She will act in my C. H. Best interest group, even if that means ignoring an order I give, or causing me limited damage."

Salarin laughs again.

"limited damage… Let's explore that logic. What if I threatened to belt down you, unless she bites off that erect shit, and eats it right here, for example ?"

Charax looks up anguished at his shackled wrists.

"solvent,"orders Salarin.

"If she believed your scourge, she would probably do it."

"Excellent. Then, Ajeedie ? I will kill your…"

"No !"Charax moans."Please !"

Salarin chuckles.

"Of course not - that would be far too soon. But I do assure to castrate you in the future tense, when it pleases me. I want you to have time to anticipate that day. For now, your flow beneficial interest is to tell Ajeedie that she will become my slave, while you will remain in my hold. Make sure she understands that the mo she steps out of line of credit, I will ensure that the way in which you broke our jurisprudence is exposed. Then the slaveholder council will sentence you to be implanted yourself, and you'll end up your days standing with the Male slaves on The Hub. So it is very much in your C. H. Best interests that Ajeedie remains docile, and under my add up control."

Charax does not answer. He lowers his read/write head in defeat.

"Good. Now tonight, I'm tired, and I think we're nearly done here, but before we go, it's probably also in your ripe interests that I allow Ajeedie to salvage your stimulation, no ? human being males should only maintain an erection for a couple of hr, and the ascendancy ring you're wearing away has kept you permanently hard for over two days. It becomes damaging, both psychologically and physically, if a man remains engorged for too long. How desperate you must be, for that one touch that will push you over the edge ?"

Again Charax does not answer. He can see that Salarin is taunting him.

"So if you want it, beg me, Charax. Beg me, as though you're a hard worker girl."

Charax pauses for a mo, and then speaks.

"master copy,"he says."Please have the girl relieve me."

"No, say ‘ this slave fille begs ’."

Charax grimaces.

"This slave girl begs to sustain Ajeedie relieve me."

"Maybe once I've chopped off your tool, I should have you transformed in the bacta, like we did with Leshan ?"taunting Salarin."It would disport me to see you live out your time as a female."

I feel no understanding for Charax, this man who had me stripped and crowd raped, and wants me punished. And yet the compulsion to intervene, to help him, is strong.

"victor ?"I humbly ask Salarin, tense with my urge to allay Charax's arousal.

"Enough !"snaps Salarin. I clench my chained fists again, but the implant compels me to inertia. I've been in the sect leader's company a matter of minute, and I loathe him already. How can Ja-Alixxe handle it for day after day ?

"Ajeedie, my slave, follow me,"Salarin says, making for the expiration from the jail cell. I look uncertainly back at my true master.

"maestro, please,"Charax pleads, flailing his bare legs.

"Charax - fear not,"Salarin calls back."I shall recover the vile female on Aghara-Penthay, and send her to make for you to climax. She will be the only when grade of pussy you're getting from now on."

I must obey, obey as though I have a habitue implant. With my chains jingling once more, I'm already shuffling after my new headmaster, back past the cells of his inauspicious dupe. During the walking he talks, conversationally, as though aught of consequence has happened today, as though he hasn't just abused the luckless Charax, as though I don't still have those burning rooster strapped inside me.

"Now you've seen cogent evidence that I have Charax,"Salarin tells me,"He will be moved to a good location."Somewhere outside the palace, beyond any form of deliverance attempt. So, before you even think it, there's no point you trying anything new, at least not if you time value his life."

"Yes, master key,"I say softly.

Surprising myself, I realize I don't feel any worse for the scene I've just witnessed. My implant compels me to dish out Charax, but I suppose it's not as though I feel any positive emotions towards that man who wants me dismember, and then slowly devoured by the Elmek. Wagner said it would ask many days of suffering before the rest of my squad succumbed to the boring torture. They must be still active, the pitiable women from the rest of my squad. Morine, Beana, Illyri, Ak-Mancheen, Dias, Ko, Norenda, but what about Orteza ? What did happen to Orteza ? However, living for retentive as Salarin's slave might not be near than a cruel death under Charax. After our gaining control, Bartholomeu Diaz told us that hope was not lost until the god end us, but now she's there on the Elmek humans, she might deliver changed her mind on that.

Mounting some step, the flexing of my lower limbs shifts the impostor penis inside me, and I grunt with pain in the neck. The sound of my suffering attracts Salarin's attention.

"We'll have to supersede that taking into custody with something more yearn term,"he muses."Implants like yours can't be trusted, and there needs to be a way to keep you permanently pacified."

"As you wish, Master,"I reply.

"And I like the sight of a cleaning woman's bare throat,"he continues, barely listening to me. Then he stops for a moment as something occurs to him."What about ... ? Yes. There's a poetic irony to that thought. And what's more, you'd be similar enough - it might solve everything. Yes, why didn't I think of that before ?"

The faction leader continues on his way.

Whatever lies ahead for me, I know it's not going to be good.



25 Council

Aghara-Penthay is no different to other worlds across the galaxy in one respect - the planet still requires governing and government. Thus, nine twenty-four hour period after my meeting with Charax in the dungeon, a council get together of the three camarilla loss leader takes piazza.

Until today, I've been forbidden from leaving the bounds of Salarin's palatial dwelling house. I hear from other slaves that are sent beyond the walls, it's pretty lots candid season on molesting women running errands circular Aghara-Penthay's settlements. Perhaps my new master copy considers me too tempting a delight. However, within the immense complex of the chief's castle, his faction knows better than to mess with one of the loss leader's dearie.

Salarin likes his pillage miss to be fit and desirable, so Ja-Alixxe and I are obliged to work out daily. Wearing only the red wrap of slave women, it becomes workaday that we make for Salarin's buck private gym. In most deference, I am not displeased with this duty. There may come a time when my acrobatic artistry is again valuable. My problem, is that the men like to watch us. Often stagnate male gather to revel the sessions, and when we're ordered to exercise nude, we must obey.

night in the faction leader's castle also follow a routine that soon becomes comrade to me. A female is summoned to the sleeping room. Occasionally it is one of those I saw below in the cellular telephone, but to the highest degree often it is Ja-Alixxe, or myself, or both. The unlucky nocturnal fellow is tortured until the loss leader becomes aroused enough to rape her. When Ja-Alixxe, or another female, is chosen, she share his bed afterwards. I do not. Even though Charax has probably been relocated, Salarin still does not trust me entirely, so I spend every night on the floor, in restraint, listening.

The nanotech injected into me thanks to the casual pedagogy"lesbian tendency"does not acquire long to reach its impact felt. If I'm denied the tinge of a woman for much more than a day, the craving becomes overwhelming. The obligation to be milked by a female person does not help. On one occasion, my need becomes so heroic, I'm forced to beg for a woman. I find myself thinking about other female for more and more of the day. But Ja-Alixxe has the primary claim on my emotions - she's so beautiful, so resilient. Is it possible I could be developing romanticist feelings for the cousin who betrayed me ?

When I'm not in sexual Robert William Service to male or female, or performing my mandatory exercise, then so long as Salarin is busy, I have surprising freedom. I explore his castle complex, and find much more than living quarters - there are meeting rooms, stock containing great wealth, and rooms for his private supporting staff. Only the underground country is locked and inaccessible to me. I'm unable to confirm whether Charax has been relocated or not.

My true master is somewhere, perhaps still au naturel and constrain. But without Sir Thomas More direction, I can do nothing but continue on the fundament of our hold up encounter. That means I am Salarin's slave.

My first clock time away from Salarin's palace is when he takes me to the council meeting. Today, as share of the Sadist's cortege, we proceed to ancient chamber with sandstone rampart, containing eight heavy stool, each carved from a unmarried piece of rock. VIII faction leaders must have been the high figure there's been in Aghara-Penthay's history, but currently only three are occupied. Salarin, Cronorgan and Monad.

Behind each of the enthroned chief sits three of his bureaucrat. A fleet captain who oversees the cabal's piracy and capture of victims, a contract bridge adviser, responsible for for the faction's finances and retail arrangement, and finally - the manager of the faction's slaves, who deals with training, processing, and all thing from captives'arrival up to their pointedness of sale.

The final attendees are us - the women. Men are a free-enterprise gender, and each Chief brings a slave to kneel at his feet - someone intended to prove to his fellow that it is he who can possess the most desirable woman in the galaxy. And looker they are… It's been two 24-hour interval since I was with another female, so I'm probably as hungry for the pleasures of one of these tool as the men.

At Cronorgan's metrical foot kneels a sensational exemplar of the Gaianesian coinage, distinguishable from homo by irises of a trench purpleness shade, and a formula of markings on her forehead in a similar color. Cronorgan keeps his hand knotted in this adult female's tomentum for the integral duration of the council. I recall that Gaianesian females have an involuntary response - a reflex - which renders them sexually receptive when their hair is pulled. Perhaps this is true. Certainly, at even the least apparent movement which causes a tug, I notice there is an instant when the girl's heart defocus, she stares into infinite, and her lips section sensuously.

monad's beaut is also of an stranger metal money. In organic structure shape, she is much like a human being female, only with this woman her skin has a blue-green iridescent shimmer that I find very alluring. Her centre are also completely black, with no trace of fleur-de-lis. Instead of hair, such as is found on a human, protruding from her scalp are heavyset tubes of flesh, as though dreadlocks could be coated in the same shimmering skin. Perhaps these growths can not be cut like regular hair's-breadth, for the girl's fronds are grown long enough to reach her thighs. monas has looped the Strand stave and round her throat, and he keeps the loose ends behind her head, gripped in his fist. By pressing his knee between her shoulder joint blades while pulling against the tight coils, he uses them to restrain the woman's respiration. She's gradually choking, and even considering her strange iridescent pelt, I can tell apart the color of her grimace is unnatural.

Salarin is a cruel and sadistic master, but Monad is worse - nothing but a brute animal. He is so unrefined, so canonical. Look at her : she is quite exceptional, and he just wastes her. If what the young lady susurration is confessedly and he can only attain climax through death, then he is nauseated than my skipper. And if this is just some show of his wealthiness, then that's equally hapless, throwing away such a valuable asset.

I must hide the contempt I feel for all of them, so I look down at the floor and let my sorry haircloth return forward to veil my face. The mantle flows down the pale skin of my boob. My haircloth is my only covering - we've all been stripped, that the men might better admire each other's hard worker. Unfortunately Salarin seems to like touching it, so after only a forgetful opportunity for hiding my face, he gathers up the long fibril in a rope and puff my brain up, similar to the way Cronorgan did with the Gaianesian female. I shiver with revulsion, as I always do when the chief and I have physical contact.

My nipple are erect - an unfortunate event of my nanotech-enforced arousal, and Sir Thomas More humiliatingly, I can smell my tender sex harmonium. I pray no one else notices. At least I'm not oozing milk today. For some cause, before coming here the camarilla leader injected me with a hormone which inhibits the production.

"It will just stop it for a few hours,"he told me with cruel mirth.

"man,"says Cronorgan, by way of opening,"welcome. We gather in better circumstances than our last get together. I trust you all have the disorder which was caused by the Djenerion raid resolved ?"

"There are still some rumbling,"grumbles Salarin from behind me."One serious attack to force out me was suppressed…"he gives the smallest tug on my hair as a reminder,"and some enemies still remain hidden. For illustration, there was a murder within my family only yesterday. I've been obliged to increase security, keeping more of the White Rapers in the palace."

"I'm glad you remain well,"Cronorgan says politely."Was the victim individual substantial ?"

"A minor functionary. figure of Morg,"says Salarin."It's possible his killing is not even connected to me. A dispute over a young lady, perhaps ?"

"Then let's forget him, and prompt onto grievous line. Chiefs, I'll remind you of your obligation to provide dissident for next year's Rape Run. Our diminished numbers will involve each of you providing Thomas More of the mellow value females in the galaxy."

"My sect is the most herculean of them all now,"Monad growls."young woman will be found."

"My faction has made new hires of bounty hunters, and they're making up for the premature destruction of Egregious Klink,"says Salarin."We already have a female shapeshifter - very beautiful in her true form - stored in hibernation. She will be revived in clip for The Run."

"Any others ?"asks Cronorgan. He gives another pull on the Gaianesian striver's hair's-breadth. Her She gives an erotic grunt, and her eye roll back in her head.

"I have agentive role trying to find Coda Loraft,"says Salarin.

"The gymnastic archaeologist ? She'd make a fine colza Runner."

"Yes,"agrees Salarin wearily,"but unfortunately she knows it. She favors working on humanity under distaff authority, worlds where it's difficult for our usual cunt catcher to go. But we'll cartroad her down one day. Women are sapless. Cunt betrays cunt."

"Good,"says Cronorgan.

"What about you, Cronorgan ?"growls monad."You have to supply buttocks, too."

"We have agents trying to set up a bunko,"says Cronorgan."To lure Suseya Nirolara somewhere where we can take her."

"The news anchorman ?"says Salarin."She's certainly a fine piece of music of charwoman bod. And she has a strong voice. I bet she'd be a yeller. But we had a spreader this year… Perhaps another time."

"We could build use of her broadcasting endowment,"Cronorgan says smoothly."It would be entertaining to sustain her anchor the Aghara-Penthay word, and do it naked."

"It's true, she'd be nice to look at than Otto Wagner,"Salarin agrees from behind me."hold me posted."

"You have a especial pastime in her ?"says Cronorgan.

"Nothing important."

"Then, onto our next topic,"Cronorgan continues."leadership : our new chief has attracted much aid from the astronomic media. Monad… Do you assume your form of address : ‘ The fauna'?"

"Aghara-Penthay rules by fright,"is monas's reaction."Women will revere The Brute. Won't you, huh, slice ?"He twists his fist to tighten the curlicue around the alien girlfriend's throat, and she emits a gurgling rasp. Her expression turns more anguished, and she raises her bridge player to her neck, trying to tear those fronds away enough to breathe, but Monad barks,"No ! Hands you your thigh,"and she resumes the classic striver placement immediately.

"I hope you don't intend to do that to too many rape contrabandist,"says Cronorgan with disapproval."It defeats the purpose of The Run if we can't sell the captives afterwards."

"I will do as I wish,"is monas's only answer.

"Anyway,"says Cronorgan, averting his center from the girl's suffering,"Let us move on to matters of trade. Salarin - I believe your man is waiting to brief us on the state of affairs on Dodayosk."

"Hadash,"calls Salarin, and a swarthy man in robes made of voluptuous fabric steps forward. On his arm is the emblem of Salarin's faction.

"tribal chief,"Hadash begins respectfully,"The planet Dodayosk lies beyond the Republic fringes, out in the Western helix. Their society has no official government, being in a DoS of near anarchy, comprising feuding offence lords struggling to control territory. Dodayosk is far from Aghara-Penthay, and would matter little to us except for one subject - rich supplies of rarified bioconductor materials mean that almost the galaxy's biochip manufacturing business are located there - each yield site under the green-eyed tribute of some two-bit mobster. And yes, to pre-empt your query, that includes the only remaining manufacturer of implant chips."

"Previously there were Thomas More manufacturers of our chips, but once nidation was outlawed by The democracy, the others were gradually closed down. Two years ago, years by the standard galactic calculation, Aghara-Penthay became reliant on Dodayosk's one factory for its supply of imbed chips, and that meant dealing with the local warlord of the territory - a man named Yarook."

"Dodayosk is too remote for us to wish well to trade in slaves there directly, so we were satisfied when an earmark tidy sum was struck by Salarin for suppling slaves of various grades to Yarook in commutation for chips, however, Yarook is fully aware of his Monopoly and has recently begun squeezing us."

"Over clip Yarook's damage have become more and more unreasonable. In commutation for the net shipment of chips Yarook demanded double the previous number of slaves, and for the next batch, he wants dual again, plus one particular insurance premium female."

Monad deletion in dismissively,"Aghara-Penthay was successful for many years before there were implants. Let us bomb this Yarook out of existence as a lesson to the galaxy."He loosens his hairgrip for a moment and the alien woman's dresser heaves as she sucks in a rasping breath of O.

"That's one possibility,"interjects Cronorgan,"although our unique capability to cater passive and implanted stock does add millions of deferred payment to our economy. Distasteful as it is, we must deal dancing to this fellow's melodic phrase, at to the lowest degree until he can be replaced with somebody more co-operative."

"That would get to us appear debile,"growls monas, resuming his stranglehold,"and that is insufferable, when Slavers rule by fear."

"There is still the possibility of recovering the situation without untoward publicity, dread tribal chief,"Hadash continues smoothly."Yarook previously dealt with Salarin, and some of the exit resulted from a clangoring of personalities, but he is willing to receive a fresh negotiating team under certain conditions."

"Why are we discussing this, then ?"grunt Monad."Go and suck his dick dry, Hadash."

"It's not that easy, Chief monad. Yarook is paranoiac we will try to assassinate or depose him, by collaborationism with his competition,"explains Hadash."Which is no surprise, really, considering that's exactly what we would do. Thus, relinquish men of Aghara-Penthay are not permitted inside his stronghold, and our trade exchanges need to be carried out by the tryst of agent in space. Yarook says he will only personally receive a delegation of implanted females, where his people can substantiate their functionality before they're admitted."

"Then he's just messing with us. Only a fool would send out plant char to act as a delegating,"says Monad."You might as well gift wind them. You'll never see those cleaning woman again."

"For once I'm inclined to check with you,"says Cronorgan,"but for the peanut price of a handful of char, we might as well test his intentions. I'd prefer to do that than risk our supply of chips forever."

"He's not getting even the horrible spell of bitch from me,"says Monad."I'd rather cut their throats,"and to emphasize his dismissiveness he flings his young woman to the floor, where she lands on her facial expression. The iridescent woman starts pushing herself back up, but monad barks"Lie there ! Wrap those things tighter around your neck."

The meeting pause, silent, as he rises to his foundation and stands over her, and begins loosening his pants. Meanwhile the female circles the plait of flesh more closely around her pharynx, compelled to seal her own doomsday. When monad pulls out his upright penis - a new challenger for the title of to the highest degree disgusting object lesson of a cock I've seen - I understand he intends to take her rightfulness here, in the middle of the meeting. The luckless female person must get laid what's coming, but she lies there limp and gentle, with the perfect curves of her buttocks presented up to him. Not caring that we're all watching, monas collapses on to her, penetrating her ass without the mercy of lube. She screams with pain for an crying, but her cry of distress is cut off as soon as he pulls on the animation reign which restricts her external respiration.

"Is this really requisite ?"asks Cronorgan as Monad ruts into her, in front of all of us."She's a nice sample, and it's a waste if you're going to do this every single time."

"I'll sell her to you if you admit you aid for her ?"Monad smiling, but Cronorgan turns away with a dismissive moving ridge.

Salarin's grip slackens as his attention is absorbed by the fit, and once more I'm able to stare down at my naked body. Gods, I hate being a female. I hate that it pleases men when I'm naked like this. I'm still unused to the changes the Slavers have made to me, and I'm ashamed each clip I look at myself. My shadow hair, changed to equal my wretched cousin. My ash gray teat and clitoris that mirror her too - pain in the ass stimulators, permanently injected into my most raw variety meat, joining the early nanotech so I can be tortured any consequence, day or night. True to his Logos, Salarin replaced the shock collar with the more permanent stimulators. I'd have the hateful piece of tech back, compared to the silver.

"It isn't just the insignificant cost of a handful of charwoman that Yarook demands, Maker Cronorgan,"coughs Hadash."He insists on one exceptional premium female. Her, and only her."

"Who ?"growls monas from his vile rutting on the floor."A cunt is a cunt."

"Ja-Alixxe."

monas pauses his thrusting to roar with laughter.

"So am I wrong, or are we only wasting sentence discussing this because the dick-sick headman endangerment the hereafter of Aghara-Penthay, just to avoid sending his favorite ?"he says.

"I am not dick sick,"says Salarin in an icy timbre. At the same prison term, he jerks hard on my pilus, so again I must look up at the circle.

"I wouldn't use those finicky words,"says Cronorgan,"but I agree that the one Rape runner has developed more importance than is usual."He's staring right at me as he says this, and at first I don't understand why, until he says,"You've had her breasts enlarged to match the one from the Cum Race ? I thought you liked the smaller girls."

"Sometimes a change is good,"Salarin says smoothly.

I can't shroud my surprise. I'm opening my rima oris to clarify, but a tug on my hair muteness me. Do they think I'm Ja-Alixxe, just because of the hair gloss and my silver gray genitals ? They do, I realize - the early chiefs think I'm Ja-Alixxe, and he's playing along. That explains the Milk River inhibitor. But why does Salarin want them to guess I'm Ja-Alixxe ? Surely not because…

"A solution presents itself,"says Salarin."I have a girl. This slave was given a impost implant, by a scalawag operative. I dealt with him, but I've still kept her. She serves… only me, and she doesn't have the usual confinement on harming men. Actually, this girl is quite lethal. She's already proven that. I will send that girl to Dodayosk, as negotiator. She will still pass Yarook's implantation checks, even under her Thomas More limited irresistible impulse. If things go well, good. If they're not so well, she is no departure. If the berth doesn't improve, I can activate the squawk at a sign, and have her eliminate Yarook. What they do with her after that, is their business."

"But Ja-Alixxe ?"presses monas."What about Ja-Alixxe ?"

"Yes, well, take Ja-Alixxe now, if you wish,"says Salarin nonchalantly, and he gives me a little shove between my articulatio humeri blades."See ? I'm not dick-sick."

"I don't like using specials,"says Cronorgan, ignoring me."You know the risk of custom implants. What if something goes wrong ? The Disdyne Paradox ? What possessed you to get to her ?"

"I told you, I didn't make her. My possession of her is only serendipity. So let the custom female person go to Dodayosk. Yarook is screwing us over already. If the girl fails, the whip outcome is that the situation continues,"says Salarin smoothly.

Monad gives a grunt as he reaches last climax inside the alien female person. She is hobble underneath him by now, and gives no reaction to a go thrust that must be unbearably painful. Carelessly he withdraws his organ, bloody and disgusting, from between her buttocks, and he gets to his animal foot. I look at the dead female. As with all implanted hard worker, we can palpate both commiseration and jealousy when one of our number takes her concluding journey.

"I agree with Cronorgan,"monad says, with no signal of conscience for the act he's just perpetrated."Even if you don't lose control of your female, for your plan to mold, Yarook would ingest to keep her ending to him. What if he just sells her on ?"

"He won't,"says Salarin, savoring his enigma a moment thirster, and then revealing it."Because this is the girl, rectify here."

The men all stare at me. I feel my nerve redden.

"Ja-Alixxe had a normal implant,"disagrees Cronorgan."I remember when she was brought in."

"But this is not Ja-Alixxe,"smiles Salarin."You're looking at Ja-Alixxe's cousin, Ajeedie. I thought she would fool you, and I was right. She will fool Yarook in the same way."

I continue to keep my eyes fixed on the ornate rug.

"Ah, the Okhoron succeeder,"Cronorgan says eventually."I'd noticed the similarity at the Cum raceway, but with the pilus, it becomes uncanny. But I still disapprove. Just get off him the real Ja-Alixxe, and commit a even delegation. That's safer. If Yarook continues to jack the price, we'll spate with him later."

"I'm with headman smallcock for once,"says monad."If your slave there goes looney, or Yarook realizes he's been sent the wrong dent, things will be worse."

"Your expostulation are noted, but Yarook is mine to plow with,"says Salarin, and from him previously sounding languid, suddenly the faction drawing card's self-assurance is back."My conclusion is that Ajeedie goes to Dodayosk."

"You are my friend, Salarin, but if he is yours to shell out with, and this backfires, I can't sustenance you,"warns Cronorgan.

"Aye, damage our supply route for those chips, and I'll see your peter gets chopped off,"says monas menacingly.

"It will be fine,"says Salarin."I have leverage over the tradition female. Ajeedie will do everything I ask."

I realize I'm holding my breath. Gods be praised, they're saying I might actually be leaving, and in spite of everything, that gives me Hope. Anywhere must be punter than here. I arrived on Aghara-Penthay as a free woman, leading a bang team on a dangerous mission. I'd slept with one woman, and been raped by one man. If I go, I will do so as an implanted sex slave, dispatched on a missionary post on behalf of my master. I've been raped more times than I can reckon, and more rapes are ahead as I become the possession of this Yarook.

But I'll still take Dodayosk over Aghara-Penthay.

26 - Dodayosk

Spaceports are always located in the poorest neighborhoods of a city, but Dodayosk sets a new low for squalor. I'm amazed that they were capable to build a factory for implant scrap on this ramshackle world. Junk is piled up against edifice, and flies swarm from open drains running down the midsection of the streets. It's not as hot as Aghara-Penthay, but Dodayosk is a humid world, so the atmosphere feels just as oppressive.

The buildings are as disordered as the government here. With no time of year or zoning rules in this place, all that's needed is to save the frequent downpour out and furnish some privacy, so the citizens construct their homes from whatever materials are convenient. Barely any construction have an upper storey. We pass a snap off nap of rubble where some structure has collapsed. minor in rags scamper over the remains, searching for anything of economic value.

"What a hole,"says Secur as we move into the noisy and crowded market district, and I agree with him.

Secur is our escort. Women from Aghara-Penthay can't be left to locomote alone, not when their implants will post them into the weapon of the first male person who's feeling horny. The bulk of the slave shipment to Yarook has already been dispatched in the usual mode, so the remainder - a uncomplicated chaperoning task for two female person, doesn't need Aghara-Penthay's finest. Secur is not Aghara-Penthay's finest. I don't think I've met a work-shy male person. He doesn't even make the effort to wash. Secur just shuffles through life looking one-half asleep. If you gave the guy a million credits or a expiry sentence, both would get the Sami shrug in response.

The but thing that wakes him from that torpidness is his sex thrust. My beauty being to his taste, during residue hours on the two-day ocean trip I had to let myself be chained in his bunk, and then I was mauled intimately and unendingly. In a conclusion display of possessiveness by Salarin, Secur was ordered by his junto leader not to assault me, but for nearly of the voyage our bodyguard would grope me whenever he could, getting increasingly wild and frustrated that he could not claim me fully. When he'd had decent of handling the pillage woman, he'd dump his vile germ into Edzie. As a girl from the general camarilla gillyflower rather than a private hard worker like me, there's no prohibition for Secur on Edzie's use.

She has a fairly face and a inflect body, but her breast is flat and she's on the scant side. If the gods had given her longer legs, she'd perhaps have been traded as sex slave, rather than retained for administrative duties, but serving upright is Edzie's destiny. Before seizure, she was a craft negotiant for an alignment of satellite. She had a academic degree in contract law. Unfortunately for her, a ship carrying a delegation ran across a Slaver combat ship. The males were slaughtered, along with those females who had no time value. The survivors were brought to Aghara-Penthay for processing.

Edzie is walking stiffly through the market, as though she's uncomfortable. She is, in fact, uncomfortable. I know the reasonableness for this : her pussycat is bruised and sore. After a long voyage, my nanotech craving for female contact became overwhelming. Secur had been briefed that my needs would demand sating, but it was left up to him how to ensure the deed was done. Turns out Secur is a member of Salarin the sadist's faction for a reason. In the end, I was commanded to tie her down feather, and then told to abuse her precious organ, while using her for my pleasure. Slaves understand the overwhelming force of an implant, and I had no alternative, but she's pissed with me and not speaking all the Lapp.

When sex was over, as a final indignity she was made to wet-nurse my chest. I might be on Dodayosk, but there's no escaping the anguish gifted to me by Aghara-Penthay.

Edzie thinks that as the specialist negotiator, she's superior to me -"Ja-Alixxe ”, individual here only as percentage of a requital. She doesn't understand that the inverse is the truth. Edzie is a pawn being sacrificed. She's a stalking-horse to deliver me, the real job problem solver, inside Yarook's sentry duty. Sending my Creator cousin-german alone, without objection or any attempt to better the deal, would stimulate provoked suspicion, but a stunner along with the agree treater - that is a different matter. Salarin doesn't believed Yarook is going to get through a liquidation in good faith with an planted striver. He expects Yarook will seize both of us for himself, and then ask even more. The only intellect we're here is to smuggle me inside Yarook's walls.

Secur agrees with Salarin's pessimistic vista. But Secur has been kept ignorant of the secret of my implant, and believes he's delivering aught more than silent savage for slaughter. In the last academic session of residual time of day on the ship, his mounting tautness overcame his self-control.

"I figure the odds of you coming back are minimal, so I might as well have my fun,"he sneered to me once I was chained down, and then he took me."Who'd have thought it ? Low-ranking Secur, getting to sleep together the famous Rape Runner Ja-Alixxe. immortal, I love Aghara-Penthay."

Edzie is not the merely one who is sore today.

But I must dismiss thoughts of him, and pore on my missionary post.

On my first visit to Dodayosk, I'm assailed by the new sights, sounds and smells of the market. Most of the traders seem have their stable under simple canvas canopies. fauna whose names I don't know are roasted on skewers. Vendors try to appeal our attention to buy fabrics, tech, chem.

There is much catcalling and banter between the sellers and buyers. Edzie and I move through this disturbance, dressed in pants and shirts that look appropriately professional for treater. The outfits are tighter around our dead body than I'd have liked, but they cover the cutis from ankle to throat, and they're a lot better than appearing in public wearing a wrapper. They're made from a java-colored cloth suited to the climate, which lets the skin breathe. Rather than reveal the brand of Aghara-Penthay, headscarves of the same textile are wound around our faces, hiding our mouths and the face which bears the slave chump. We could go on for convention galactic citizens. Women with a future.

"slave,"a leering bearded merchant says to Secur, stepping into our route. I think he's seen through our camouflage, but then he says,"cum and see my fine slaves."

The instruction was to all of us, so of course Edzie and I are compelled, and we follow where the merchant beckons.

A line of unlucky soul are waiting, chained together by catch at their throat. There are four charwoman and three men. They've only been given foul breechcloth to endure, regardless of their sex, so the women stand bare-breasted. A man, I assume a potential customer, is busy squeezing the breast of the prettiest female, who looks distressed but does not reject him, not even when he roughly kisses her. I remember that implants are not the but way to control striver.

"Get away !"cries the merchandiser to the groper, swatting the man away like he's a fly."A thousand apologies baronial citizens,"he says to us."Always that turd is here. Never buys anything. The street of brothel is just over there, but he prefers to contact my striver without paying. Are you ladies shopping for a man or a cleaning woman ? acquire this one - just smell at his heftiness and inspect the size of his cock."

Godsdamn him, another education. Compelled again, we crouch down and Edzie unfastens his loincloth, which falls away. She holds his penis and testicles out with her deal, as though she's a shopper feeling the free weight and resolve of a piece of fruit. Perhaps the man has been denied a woman's spot for too long, for I see his shaft swelling almost instantly in Edzie's hand.

"And you, Sir ?"says the merchant."Your companions know what they want. That boy will have a go at it them all nighttime, satisfying even the athirst fair sex's appetite. But you, Sir ? A woman for you, or is your taste for the boys ?"

"Don't mind those two, we're not buying, we're in the trade as well,"Secur replies laconically."Just professional interest. girlfriend, stop performing, and come here."

"You're all dealers ?"asks the merchant, while we retake our billet."We must throw a drink together."

"They're not monger,"drawls Secur, and my stomach starts to clench. Please don't show him, delight don't appearance him. Just let me keep my dignity until we get to Yarook.

"show him your faces,"commands Secur.

I unravel my headscarf enough to reveal my impudence. It feels like the slave Mark burns with my shame.

"See ?"clarifies Secur, although it's already obvious."They're merchandise."

"Ja-Alixxe ?"the merchant says with awe while we ache with mortification."The Rape smuggler ? I thought she was dead. And you have another implanted hard worker from Aghara-Penthay ? How did you get those two ?"But then the merchant seems to remember himself and quickly orders,"cover version your faces, hard worker. It's not safe."

While we restore our vesture, he hands a small chicken feed of spirit to Secur. Edzie and I will no longer receive any kindness or consideration now he knows what we are. The merchant explains to Secur,"masses need to arrange their own law enforcement on Dodayosk. You'll soon be attacked if word gets around you have cleaning lady from Aghara-Penthay with you. Even this light one…"and he reaches out and touches Edzie's buttock,"… is Charles Frederick Worth thousands of credits. And I dread to intend what the colza Runner would be worth on the auction block. You'll struggle to find many men on Dodayosk who can afford her, without aid. Are you selling them ? I can arrange it, customers with the wealth, and trade protection, for a small percentage."

"Not today,"response Secur."We have to see Yarook."

"Him ?"the merchant says."Why give to a greater extent rump to that lazy SOB ? Nearly all the slave go through Yarook now. There's no opportunity for the smaller vendors. Slaves, and everything else on this satellite. And he just sits there in that palace, with his rooster in his latest cooze, and lets his underling do all the work. You sell through me, and I'll give you a honorable price."

"If it were my choice, I might,"shrugs Secur."But orders are rescript. Maybe later though, if they come out awake, my chiefs will not know the remainder if I make up a story, and between us, we make for sure the girls vanish."

"I drink to our good fortune, then. Yarook's palace is the old fortress, down that way,"says the merchant, indicating the polar counsel to the spaceport."You can't miss it. It's the only substantial building in the city."

"Thank you,"says Secur.

"Can I just… ?"blusters the merchandiser, who hasn't taken his eyes from us since he saw the mug,"test them ? It's a rare treat to have an implanted cleaning lady to play with."

"As long as you don't make a shot,"Secur replies genially.

"Strip !"barks the merchant.

There is no denying this gild. Secur lets us get as far as reaching for our shirts before he intervenes and says,"blockage. Don't."As our implant chipping are configured that the elemental proprietor nullification obedience to other men, we're gratefully able to lower our custody. The merchant's slave watch us with loose curiosity through this process.

"It's always a joy to experience,"says the merchant."If only every woman was as obedient as that. wellspring, I wish you safe paths and good trade, friend."

"seed, girls,"says Secur, and we continue through the market, following as helplessly as though he has us on a leash.

"Remember where to incur me,"the merchandiser calls to our rear.

Secur raises his hand to show we've heard.

We make our final exam measure toward the palace, which as the merchant said, is impossible to lack. It's an enormous structure with high walls of a cryptic red sandstone, much like the oxide terra firma of Aghara-Penthay. I see no windowpane facing the outside world, but there are guards watching from the high battlement. Dread builds in me as I anticipate the inevitable outcomes of our mission.

"In eccentric you're worrying about me, don't,"says Secur maliciously."While you striver are getting pounded, I'll be enjoying myself. Salarin says to generate you seven days to get Word to me, before I assume the negotiator is lost forever and head for habitation. Perhaps I'll visit the street of brothels. It's been hours since I got laid."

I brush off the sadism, consoling myself that Secur is entirely non-essential to Charax'eudaimonia, so if I get the probability to go into the settlement alone during this week, I'm going to track Secur down and break his cervix. I found Morg on just such a tranquilize day in Salarin's palace and obliterated him, wiping out one of the few witnesses connecting me to my master and the ten-strike team. No one suspected a striver could have done the killing. And I can produce it look like there was an accident with Secur. Anyone who knows him will think he was that dumb.

A mammoth portcullis marks the entryway to the fort. It seems to be the only when way in or out, with the battlements too high to take to the woods. Such a gateway only needs one guard, for attackers without a military blockade blaster would get no chance of breaking through. As we approach this guard duty, Secur draws himself up and assumes an air of federal agency. Asshole. Asshole who came inside me. One day, I'll make him pay.

"Trade negotiators from Aghara-Penthay,"Secur says pompously."Here to see Yarook."

The sentry go looks Secur up and down with barely disguised contempt. Then he examines Edzie and myself with equally poorly concealed lust. And then he turns and speaks into an intercom. I can't hear the speech from the far end, but he must pick up some answer, for he nods and turns back to us.

"Just the females,"the guard barks, and from some spiritual domain control the portcullis slowly starts grinding its way up to the roof.

"Agreed,"Secur replies as though he still has some influence."Have a gracious check, slaves,"he calls after us.

"interior, twat,"the safeguard parliamentary law us, and Edzie and pace into a huge arc hall of deep fantasm, committing ourselves to a overbold phase of snake pit. It's shadow after the smart sky over the city.

As the portcullis descends and lying in wait us within, Edzie turns to me and speak quietly.

"Let me take the wind in any discussions, Ja-Alixxe,"she says, assuming undeserved confidence."You're just part of the trade, remember, but there's still a chance for me. If I do well, when I report back I'm going to get special treatment."

"Your pussy smells infected,"I reply."If we're kept here, I advise you to wash more."

And then the guard calls us onward, and we walk docilely to our doom.

27 - Yarook

At first, I believe the alien who receives us is Yarook, but I quickly read this is not the warlord himself, but an underling. The man is of the same outlander species as the girl I saw serving Monad, with a bluish green iridescent skin, completely Negro heart, and electron tube of build from his skull instead of hair. He is slimly built, barely more muscular than a human woman.

"Follow me, ladies,"he says in a soft, oily vocalization, so of course we do."There are formalness which must be completed before you can be taken to the audience chamber."

The words of Salarin's executive Hadash come back to me with dreadful foreboding."He will only experience a delegation of implanted female, where his people can sustain their functionality before they're admitted."Probably, these formality won't be pleasant for us. A fresh ordeal is coming, one so unbearable that only a female under compulsion would die hard it.

But the place this extraterrestrial leads me is the palace kitchen. For a moment I think I've been anticipating this moment for goose egg, and there won't be an ordeal after all. Then I see the two plates. The thing waiting on each is clearly a penis. A penis with the ballock still attached - the whole lump of flesh covered in a clear slime.

"This dish aerial is a airiness on Dodayosk,"the alien tells us smoothly."The genitals are severed from a species of mammal indigenous to this world. They're buried in the dry land for a century 24-hour interval, during which clock time the meat partially rots. Then the flesh is cured in a meat house, arresting the decay. It's a good good example of an acquired gustatory perception, don't you think ? Those raised to it can't get adequate. For my part, and for everyone lucky enough not to come up from Dodayosk, I think it's the most disgusting thing I've ever tried. Here, females, - take these,"and we're each handed a plate."Now eat it, and like it."

My implant personnel me to answer only Charax. Charax'orders are I obey Salarin. Salarin's instructions echoed Charax'– i.e. that I must do as though I'm under the restraint of a rule implant, and I only break screening if vital for the execution of his will. It's not as substantial a logical imperative as the one compelling Edzie - will I be able to displume this off ? But I've already taken the phallus from the collection plate and I'm raising it to my lips ( it's cold, and flavor like picking up a giant leech rather than something mammalian ) and I bite off the head. The flavor it emits is overpowering - it fills my intrude and pharynx with an scent like rotting pith, but while it should be completely unseasonable, somehow I find it surprisingly tasty. Edzie, looking as surprised as I'm feeling about the unexpectedly palatable dish aerial, begins to chew with more than confidence, and she takes a indorsement bite.

The flesh is not fibrous like a fresh substance. It crumbles as easily as mince. I'm halfway through the meal, with one of the ball filling my rima oris, when the alien speaks.

"Good, that's enough. If you weren't implanted, you'd be puking your lungs out by now. Put down the collection plate, and pursue me."

We're led on through the palace, climbing steadily towards the upper levels following in the noncitizen's wake. My spirits sink as my dead body ascends. Being dressed has reminded me how much less vulnerable a woman naturally feels with clothes. Yarook will look at me the way all men seem to expect at me, and all this coating will be taken away again.

I'm expecting to get in a fully enclosed throne room like a fairy story rook, but in the eternally tropical clime of Dodayosk, the audience bedroom can be kept on the roof. We're in a space subject to the air, but with antediluvian pillar supporting a vaulted canopy to go on off the rain. While we were in the kitchens, it has started pouring outside, and the voices are raised to be heard over the cloudburst. There are, I estimate, fifty organism around the throne, comprising all metal money, races and sex.

"lord Yarook, the delegates have arrived from Aghara-Penthay,"says the alien. Everyone looks at us, and we look to Yarook.

In front of the ruler's throne, a low pillory traps a raw slave womanhood on her hands and articulatio genus. She is not Yarook. Her hips are presented to the throne, so the man I take to be Yarook can fuck her from his seated attitude, in figurehead of all his Guest. The slave is swart, she has a beautiful consistency, but her expression is her greatest asset, sensuous and strong, even though her reflexion strained with discomfort from the cock stuffing her.

As for Yarook, he wears a helmet that masks his grimace. It must assist his respiration, for I can hear the rattling sound of a respirator. One might take him for an alien needing the apparatus for endurance in this oxygen rich atmosphere, but the creamy bare arms I see look more like those of a human of centre years, a male person gone to cum.

"woman of Aghara-Penthay,"Yarook says - his voice masculine, but synthesized."Welcome to Dodayosk. Please, remove your headscarves now. We are informal in my palace, and there is no more indigence to disguise what you are."

Here I am, wishing to remain covered but being made to undress once again. And yet I immediately unwind the fabric from around my face anyway, feeling exposed with even that little pulp exposed. My midnight haircloth spill innocent. I keep my chin up so the warlord has a undecomposed view - I figure if I don't let him inspect me, I'll simply be ordered to do so anyway. As always, the beauty that's cursed my life weaves its enchantment. Yarook has barely noticed Edzie, and his disguise locks on to me, but Edzie speaks anyway.

"I am Edzie, Master,"says Edzie."A negotiator, but an implanted female, dispatched in accordance of rights with your damage. You have the bulk cargo already. And you see here the residue of the… payment. The rape moon curser and sex slave, Ja-Alixxe."

"There stands the renowned Ja-Alixxe, eh ?"says Yarook. He sounds divert, yet oddly skeptical. Why should he be skeptical ?"Perhaps. I'll only be able to tell when she's showing a bit more flesh. Slaves, strip to the waist."

The crowd laugh and snicker at our humiliation as we automatically begin to take our shirts.

"Not too fast, hard worker. Keep it slow and aphrodisiac,"gild Yarook.

Aghara-Penthay doesn't retain a good deal stock of regular female clothing, so the bra they gave me is operational rather than being of the titillating variety designed to delight a spouse. But the looker crow with delight when I reveal it, and more so when I remove it, gradually pushing the straps down my arms with a chute of my script. deity, already I hate this Yarook for making me humiliate myself. Okhoron hypersensitivity makes me particularly aware of my bare peel, and my tit as always are beading with fluid. My shame must be arousing to the swayer, for Yarook resumes humping the dark looker. Gradually - just a few strokes. He doesn't want to climax yet, not when our degradation is so entertaining, but he doesn't want to recede his erection either. The girlfriend moans and looks up for a minute, so I see the pale slave mark on her cheek more clearly, but then she slumps her head again. Her breast are oversized for a woman who is relatively young. On her deal and knees in the pillory, they swing every prison term Yarook thrusts forwards.

Outside the pelting continues to pour.

"Exquisite,"says Yarook with veneration, staring right at my chest of drawers with its silver medal teat."And yet… I remember the broadcast of Ja-Alixxe after recapture, walking naked through The Hub. I thought from the screen that her breasts were smaller."

"Salarin ordered enhancements, Master,"I stammer,"at the Saame time the stimulators were added. Master will point out also the milk."

His toady think this is screaming.

"And Ja-Alixxe was proud as a Rape Caranx crysos. Spirited. But you answer me, without my even needing to command you. The only matter proud about you is your nipples."

I'm wrongfulness footed. Not even the other junto loss leader recognized the electrical switch, and yet it's almost like Yarook is playing with me. He seems to know. I must desire for the best though, and carry on playing the theatrical role of my cousin-german. I stand there with my asset on show, and study the slave in the pillory.

Yarook must be following my gaze, for he thrusts his coxa forward, making the woman groan.

"DOE Trindii pastime you, slave ? You'll soon be spending your days where she is,"Yarook says,"so my guests can marvel, how Yarook tames a girl such as you."

That remains to be seen. I frown.

"Better,"scuttlebutt Yarook."There, is a small of the spirit."

"maestro, the Slavers of Aghara-Penthay and Chief Salarin send their greetings, headmaster Yarook,"Edzie replies, trying to summarize some direction."They hope for a prosperous business organization partnership, and send us as a house of their unspoiled faith and ..."

Yarook interrupts her, calling to the whole room :

"Your companion is a beautiful woman, Edzie"he says,"and I never would have believed that one day I'd have her standing here, with those breasts on show to us all. solution truthfully - do you mean we'd all enjoy seeing her even more if she took her knickers off ?"

"Yes, skipper,"Edzie sighs. At least she realizes that for now, I'm the mavin drawing card, and goose egg much will happen until I've been suitably humbled.

"Then both of you take off your pants, slaves. Gradually…"

There is more lampoon from the crowd as we slip our pants down, baring our lower tree branch with atrocious slowness. We're only in pantie now. I'd pray for some variant of salvation if I believed there was the remotest chance of churchman intercession happening. My longsighted and graceful arm make a contrast to Edzie's shorter form, and I feel still more self-aware. Yarook charges his lust further, pumping into the blast female a few more clock time, while his masquerade stays locked on me.

"Why did Salarin ship you ?"Yarook asks me side by side, puzzled."We know enough of this man to be certain that he is no muggins. He would not make two striver away for aught, especially not a award like you."

I shrug, as though I'm too lowly to consider politics. Yarook turns to my companion.

"solution, Edzie. Convince me why Salarin sent you dyad, and you may keep your pantie a petty longer."

"He believes that restoring grace between captain Yarook and Master Salarin will result in an meliorate rate,"says Edzie."The risk of losing two slave is nothing compared to that, Master."

"Maybe that's all there is to it with you,"muses Yarook."Maybe that's all. But why the other one ? Does he know ? Is this a planetary house ? But back to important topic. order me what your fellow's puss looks like."

There are snicker of laughter at the sudden crudity. Even some of the women in the crew are smiling. Edzie hesitates, her fount going red. I groan inside. She's seen enough of me during Secur's insult sessions to get it on the answer, and her implant will throw for certain she tells the truth.

"She has no haircloth down there, like near women who have been processed, Master. The flesh - it is quite rounded. Her button is unusually large, and is very visible, lord. It appears silver in color like her tit. Salarin has permanent wave nuisance stimulators injected into it."

"Good. We're making procession. Now, you - the one she calls Ja-Alixxe, confirm the details, and establish me your gracious snatch then."

So I hook my fingers in the waistband of my panties and gradually slide them down, bending forward as I do so, so my breasts hang forward in the most obtrusive fashion. I was ordered to be sexy, and he must have sexy. I see my bare woman, and that shamefully prominent clitoris ash gray clitoris that was enhanced on Salarin's orders. The air on my genitals reminds me again that I am sore.

"Well, well,"says Yarook."Ain't that something ? How come it's so big ?"

"Processing on Aghara-Penthay, Master,"I answer."They wanted me to be More sensitive."

"Excellent. And did the operation oeuvre ? Is it sensitive ?"

"Yes, Master."

"Excellent. I will enjoy banging that sensitive little cunt of yours tonight, then,"and to demonstrate what's in entrepot for me he pumps a few more times into the pillory."Will you enjoy me fucking you ? resolve truthfully."

"No, Master,"I reply.

"And yet you came here to fend in front of us all, naked, knowing you will get have intercourse anyway."

"Yes, Master."

"Edzie, why is that cleaning lady here ?"

I don't know if Yarook aims to enervate us by flipping between the humiliation and the interrogation, but it's working on Edzie, and she's wrongfooted.

"In fulfilment of the heap, skipper,"Edzie stammers.

"You're fabrication, and I don't like liar. You, take off your scanty as well,"he says.

Edzie steps out of her final firearm of vesture. Side by side, I see her in profile. Her shortness makes the bend of her buttocks seem nicely feminine. She pleases me. She's in good bod, as are all char from Aghara-Penthay. hard worker are not in control of their diets, and we're kept underfed because hungry girls are Thomas More eager to please.

"You're lying, Edzie, because the lot was for Ja-Alixxe,"presses Yarook."And the woman standing there is not Ja-Alixxe."

"But…"interrupts Edzie.

"issue their wearable away and destroy it,"Yarook's phonation slash across her, and a servant, a man, gathers up our remaining hopes of dignity from the trading floor."article of clothing is a exclusive right for sex slaves in my family, not a right,"explains Yarook,"and it's certainly not given to liars. You'll have to earn your next coating. Understand ?"

"Yes, original,"we both docilely acknowledge.

"So, Edzie, if that's not Ja-Alixxe, it looks as though you've been sold out,"says Yarook."Salarin tries to pass me off with a lookalike, and you're going to pay the price."

I glance at Edzie. She's shaking her head, looking horrified at me.

"But that is Ja-Alixxe,"she pleads as her hope slips away.

"I know it's not,"says Yarook,"and I'll appearance you why."

He reaches up for the fastening of his helmet, and there is the sound of rushing O as he releases it.

"Don't, God Almighty Yarook !"urges the alien."It's not safe."

"I can last a minute or two,"says Yarook, and he pulls the mask away from his face.

And Lord Yarook is revealed. In front of the ruler's pot, my universe simultaneously ends. I see a human male - his cheek terribly scarred, but recognizable all the same. I'm not aware that my knee joint give way, but suddenly I'm on the floor, my senses reeling as I fight the urge to faint, and escape all this through unconsciousness. No, No ! It can not be allowed. I've not yet been ordered to persist, so unblock from irresistible impulse, in blind instinctive repugnance I turn and try and flee, crawling a pace and then scrambling to my feet. He lets me take a few gait, a predator playing with the prey, then casually says,"Ja-Jeedie, act around. Come back."

I must face him. Gods no, how is this possible ?

God, no ! Of all the souls who might be interlinked with mine, why did two of them have to be Ja-Alixxe, and the man who first raped me ? My cousin-german's wrangle come back to me, unbidden :"He won some trading mental process in a wit game, somewhere out on the Western whorl. By taking dealership deals, he let others do the employment, and business boomed. I heard he runs a whole system like a king."

"cover on your feet, Ja-Jeedie,"Gorack orders.

He never stripped me entirely during the ravishment. Today I must stand for the first time fully naked before Gorack, and even more completely in his power than I was before.

"When I first saw you, I wondered if Salarin discovered somehow that I'd dropped my old bounty hunter epithet. But it seems for you like an unlucky co-incidence - you look too surprised for this to be a set up. I understand, now. Salarin sent you, thinking I'd fall for the switch, not knowing we'd already met,"says Gorack."Everyone - this is Ja-Jeedie, Ja-Alixxe's cousin. lowest clip we met,"he says and then turns to me,"she thought herself full than me, so I raped her to teach her a example, and I took her virginity. I recall, she scratched my look, then insisted that the rape would be the last pleasure I'd ever get from her. It seems you are fated to give me delight after all, doesn't it Ja-Jeedie ?"

"I hate you,"I tell him in a surly voice.

"Ja-Jeedie,"he says,"You are an planted slave. You will address me as ‘ Master'every meter you reply to me. Do you realize ?"

I'd rather demean myself before anyone than before him, even Salarin, but orderliness are fiat. I must unsay my pride.

"Yes, Master."

"I want you to recite us exactly what you're cerebration, Ja-Jeedie. Now you've discovered you've walked into my power, and zippo you can do will stop me fucking you, over and over, in every hole you've got."

"I'm wishing I was dead, skipper. I'm thinking about all those time since we last met that I've been in risk, but I wasn't favourable enough to be killed, and wishing just one guessing had struck home."

"What do you cogitate of me, Ja-Jeedie ? The man who took your virginity ?"

"I think you're the most pitiable composition of vulgarism that ever existed, Master."

Edzie is shaking her head, urging some attempt at polite delicacy.

"Interesting. You say that I'm pathetic, and yet you're the one who ended up as my sex hard worker. You're the one who is standing there naked, with all your secrets on show. Doesn't that make you feel even more pathetic than I am ?"

"Yes, Master,"I have to concur. What do the gods have against me ? Of the billion of souls out there across the galaxy, why did they have to designate me to yield to Gorack ?

At to the lowest degree now I can fervently hope that Salarin fails to reach an agreement with Gorack. If Salarin gives the code word, nothing would give me great delight to break Gorack limb from tree branch. But I'm unlikely to invite the signal quickly. I don't even know what time of day it is on the slave dealer cosmos. With a erupt gist I must front the inevitable. Before I can go along, I'm going to get to suffer his hired hand on me again.

"So, negotiator…"Gorack says to Edzie."You've been sent with the wrong female child. Salarin promised me Ja-Alixxe. I wanted her, and only her, because Ja-Alixxe did this to me you see, ruined my typeface and my lungs. But I'll have Ja-Jeedie while I wait for her first cousin. Where does that leave you, negotiant ?"

"It makes our position more unmanageable,"admits Edzie.

"I'd go further than ‘ difficult ’,"says Gorack."I'd say you've been sold down the river. Perhaps you're wondering what will come about next. You know, I keep a sporting house of sex slaves here for my safeguard ? You, Edzie, are sufficiently adequate to be sent there. That will be your difficult position. As for Ja-Jeedie… My loot slaves I use myself, but I also always percentage them around my elder staff. Generosity is the enigma of leadership, isn't it ? Ja-Jeedie, greet all the men who will be fucking you."

The sneering laughter regaining. I now understand the way some of the bunch having been eying me up. I'd assumed I'd be solely Gorack's after our chronicle together, but since I arrived, the crowd have actually been watching the show and anticipating getting their turn. Oh, keen.

"Say hello to your future lovers,"Gorack insists.

"Hello, victor,"I say in a low voice.

"The lesser one - take her away, to the brothel,"says Gorack with a dismissive wafture.

Two of the guard duty seize Edzie by her upper berth arms, and pull her back.

"The dialogue ?"says Edzie in rising panic as she's led away.

"A slave adult female doesn't negotiate when she's on her back,"calls Gorack to Edzie's retreating contour."mendicancy is all that's in storage for you."

With those, Edzie's role in my life story probably ends. Gorack can turn his attention solely on me.

"My mask isn't the only modification since we lastly met, Ja-Jeedie,"Gorack informs me."I had some biotech augmentation to my pecker. I can stay put hard for time of day without becoming uncomfortable and needing to orgasm. During the daytime I hold hearing here, and I usually stay wet inside a girl the unit time. Isn't that right, Trindii ?"

He rams his hips forward, and the daughter gives a groan of miserableness.

"Trindii has spent a lot of days there on her knees. But today is her favourable one. Seeing how we've all enjoyed this delightful surprise reunion, let's have a little reorganization, and then we'll let Ja-Jeedie nail her mission. It's almost good morning on the slaveholder's world. Let's give the great Chief Salarin his reply."

28 - relegation

"Urghh, urghh, urghh, urghh,"I moan, rhythmically and unending.

"bandage a transmission through to Aghara-Penthay,"monastic order Gorack loudly from nates, his interpreter reverberating through me."I want to mouth to Salarin."

While the relentless hammering continues, he says only to me,"Seeing your old buff gon na make you homesick, huh ?"

I couldn't reply if I wanted to, so I stare ahead, i.e. straight down at the tile on the floor. These tiles are little more than a foot distance in front of my face, for, on all four, I'm now kneeling in the pillory which recently trapped Trindii. I'd like to give some smartass result and win back a little self-respect, but it's hard for a womanhood to sound strong when she's being pounded with cock in front of a hefty crowd.

The pillory holds my torso horizontal, so my milk-laden breasts hang straight person downwards. Gorack has already proven he likes reaching underneath me to squeeze and root for at them. My rump is thrust out towards him and is equally defenseless. Mercifully, he's currently in my twat and not my ass, but I can do nothing to foreclose him if he does choose to switch muddle. My useless wrists are trapped layer with my ears. My neck and weapon system are locked into the same hinged wooden add-in. The planking means I can't see behind me, and that makes me feel very vulnerable, for unless I hear an audible monition, each touch to my body comes as a fresh surprise.

"Aghara-Penthay, Lord Yarook,"someone informs us.

I frown at the floor as I hear that stupid gens. Honestly : ‘ Godhead Yarook ’. What delusions of grandeur. While the joining is patched through, Gorack, as I'm determined to call up of him, slides his pelvic girdle forward slowly, penetrating deeper and deeper into me, and I tense, as my consistence instinctively attempts to exhaust the invader.

"Mmm, feel me filling you,"he says softly.

In spite of my shaming, from my lowly place in the pillory still I look up as the substance comes through. It's a wonder of technology that any communications are possible across the immensity of interstellar space. The image from Aghara-Penthay appears before the commode hovering in midair, projected in three attribute in a spectral Green shade. Meanwhile, Gorack resumes the pace of his stab.

It 's him - Salarin. Once again, the sect leader must see me stripped of all dignity.

"Lord Yarook,"Salarin says. His tone is inert - neither esteem nor disrespect.

"Urghh, urghh, urghh, urghh,"I moan.

"slaveholder,"says Gorack, using the stately destination for a sect leader."Thank you for your present tense,"says Gorack,"I'm particularly pleased with this one."He slows and partially withdraws from me again, then rams forward so suddenly and so grueling that I cry out, even though I'm trying to remain expressionless."But your trick failed. You didn't know that Ja-Jeedie, Ja-Alixxe and I are all old friends, huh ? But I'm happy to fill the Runner's cousin with peter, while I wait to be sent the real bounty hunter."

Salarin scowl, but quickly disguises his disappointment.

"Ja-Alixxe aside, I take it, then, you're not interested in the broader proposition presented by my delegation ?"

"Ha ! All your delegation got as far as presenting was her ass. She's probably getting gang banged in the guardhouse as we speak."

"The talks were a permissive waste of our clock time then ? Even though Aghara-Penthay could shell you easily ?"says Salarin calmly."A couple of our pirate warships would be more than enough to inhibit your tin pot petty kingdom."

"But you won't,"says Gorack."bomb Dodayosk, and you'll need out the factory forever. And you know the scotch. Ever since the fiasco with melaena, your cargo hold on power has become more and more tenuous. The recent raid for the cult drawing card made things spoilt. No. You Slavers need me onside, for now. So, let's get genuine. What you'll do is start kissing my ass. My offer is that you send me the real Ja-Alixxe, and also find me the pirate, Alexa Goshenk. Now there was a ok piece of music. And general farm animal slave are to be supplied yet again at double the electric current number per dispatch of chips. And while you're arrange all that, I'll relax and exercise this one."

Without warning there is an even More savage thrust into my core, and I cry out louder.

"I will discuss it with the other camarilla leaders,"says Salarin,"and return to you with a verdict."

"call for your fourth dimension. I'm happy to fuck your lookalike while I wait."

In the thick of the rape, Gorack traces his fingerbreadth down my strip rachis, and I flinch.

"Enjoy the rain, Ajeedie,"says Salarin's image to me,"it's your future,"and I go stiff in the pillory as his range of a function vanishes with a flicker.

Enjoy the rain - the code phrase I expected. Eliminate him. ( Argh, stop thrusting into me like that ). Finally some good news program. Lord Gorack of loser-world will probably desire me in his bed tonight, and once we have privacy, I'll subscribe to my revenge and waste him. Painfully. If the guards don't catch me, I'll try to get out of the palace to Secur, but I don't really give care what happens to me afterwards, just as long as I get to remove Gorack in retribution for raping me all those years ago. Salarin will cover with Gorack's successor, who will be humble after witnessing predecessor's lesson about the reach of Aghara-Penthay.

Apart from the speech sound I'm fashioning, no one in the consultation space speaks for the next arcminute, which is lucky, because my thoughts are in overdrive, evaluating unnumbered hypothesis. I'm maybe only hours from an end to my misery. The Gods have mercy.

But until that clip, I'll service as a sex striver. The rain drums down, and Gorack humps me viciously as postponement helplessly presented in the pillory. He grunts with his lust for me. I groan with suffering. I try to trouble myself by plotting the tough way I can kill him, but it's hard to think of anything but the tool stuffing my wall.

"What's next ?"Gorack asks casually, stopping mid-thrust. That's my query, too.

"The Legate from The Republic, Lord Yarook,"says the alien with the fronds."He is waiting in your ante-room."

"Let him in here, Osk,"says Gorack."Let's find out what he wants."

Slavery is illegal in The Republic. If we were in commonwealth space, this man would act my emancipation. But Dodayosk is far from the civilized hub of the galaxy. He'll just be another male in the subscriber line of those who have seen me au naturel and humiliated. What's a democracy functionary doing all the way out here though ? I look up, as he enters the audience space. I see a broad shouldered, bearded man, by the astronomical count in his mid-forties in years. He wears expensive robes, and looks well groomed, presenting as a man of means.

"master Yarook,"he says in a deep voice."I am official emissary Stobbo, Republic Legate to this sector."

His middle take in the view of me, and I see disapproval for my fast state, but I'm a naked cleaning woman, and he must front up and down my body anyway.

"Welcome, legate Stobbo,"says Gorack, resting back shamelessly with his shaft motionless inside me."You're a long way from home. What brings you to Dodayosk ?"

"I am here to negotiate a deal, Lord Yarook,"says Stobbo.

"I thought it was democracy policy never to deal with striver owners,"response Gorack. He's not the only one to be puzzled."Who do you want so desperately ?"Through the familiar connection between us I feel my captor's penis pulse as he thinks, and then he says,"You want to buy embed chipping ?"

"Not just the french-fried potatoes,"says Stobbo, and as I look up pleading silently, his eyes move over me again."We want to pay you to exclude down the yield of implants. The Republic will, in essence, pay you to do nothing."

"Aghara-Penthay pays me very well,"says Gorack."I'm not sure you can offer me enough."

"Just name your price,"says Legate Stobbo.

"well, well, well"Gorack says with a victorious laugh."Name my damage ? Even the commonwealth has come to bow before Lord Yarook. You have to let me think about this one for a moment."

While he does that, Gorack begins to rut into me again. Stobbo watches sickened, but he can't donjon from looking at me there's also a thirsty green-eyed monster. I wish I could bear the fucking stoically, but it feels like he's stretching my inner bulwark, and it's impossible not to oppose. Oh, I'm going to kill him for this public mortification.

"Urghh, urghh, urghh, urghh,"I moan.

"I see you like Ja-Jeedie, here,"Gorack United States Department of State from behind me."She's not for sale, but step up and love anyway. She's a not bad multitasker, and I can feature her suction you off while I fuck her. She won't bite."

"Not today,"says Stobbo."But thank you."

I stare down at the flooring, not wanting to see anyone's pleasance at my abasement. Gorack thrusts deeper, and I moan louder.

"I have more credits than I'll ever need,"Gorack eventually says."I live in luxury. I have first pace bitch. I don't want to free the cosmos's women - quite the inverse. What can you offer me ?"

"Everyone wants something,"says Stobbo with distaste."Republic shelter ? An amnesty ? What's your price ?"

Gorack pauses to mean again, but soon resumes poling me again, back and forward, back and forward. I stiffen instinctively and moan in suffering with each thrust. He laughs. I feel his cock swelling. Something is arousing him.

"Tell you what, official emissary Stobbo,"he says smugly."You're saying you want me to shut down production, and lose all that likely tail. There's only one thing I'll do that for - a snap that's even effective than anything from Aghara-Penthay. Bring me melaena de Santo, and five million credits. Then you'll have a deal."

There's a gasp from the room and a ripple of randomness from the crowd. Even I look up with surprise. Stobbo looks aghast.

"You're being preposterous,"he says."Colonel De Santo escaped from The ravishment Run three class ago ? She's a exempt citizen of The republic, under our aegis. The Republic would never bear a free citizen into slavery, into the hands of someone like you."

Gorack is getting faster. He's made up his intellect, and now he's just enjoying himself.

"Urghh, urghh, urghh, urghh,"I moan.

"Bring me Melena,"he repeats."Not a bad Price for her, after she's been so heavily soiled, no ?"

"She's not a slave,"riposte Stobbo."We're done here. The republic is a honest and unfreeze society."

The legate is turning to go forth, but Gorack freezes him in his tracks.

"If you want to keep your moral sense clear, why don't you just ask her ?"he mocks."melaena was always sickeningly noble. One act of self-sacrifice, to keep so many women from implantation ? I bet she'll agree. In fact, she'll be cumming in her pants with eagerness to subvert herself before me."

"I'm departure,"says Stobbo."adept day, Lord Yarook."

"Don't take too long deciding though,"Gorack calls after his book binding."Imagine the counter-offer Aghara-Penthay are going to come up with, once they hear about this… The Leontyne Price will go up soon."

He rams so deep into me that it feels like he's probing my abdomen. I'm stretched around his girth. I feel like I'm going to split. I cry out. But Gorack was correct. Imagine what Aghara-Penthay would do with this news.

Perhaps that's why something alteration in me. I suddenly slump in the skeletal frame holding me, although my body still lurches like a ragdoll with the unending thrusts. I can feel my dangling breasts shaking in rhythm method to the pounding I'm receiving. Gods damn them all ! I was going to kill Gorack right away, but I can't. Not yet. Not even if I wanted that more than anything in the population. The compulsion from my plant nullification everything.

Melena de Santo. Aghara-Penthay's most wanted woman. Three old age ago, she escaped the Rape Run with Ja-Alixxe, and for once it was the Slavers who were delivered a public humiliation. Ja-Alixxe was recaptured, as everyone knows, but melena has been heavily guarded by the Republic ever since.

What would it stand for for the slave trader if there was the voltage of recovering melaena ? If melena does ferment out to be cursed with such dim aristocracy that she'll submit to Gorack's cock, and I can take her back to Aghara-Penthay where she'll take far More cock, the wholly galaxy would respect Aghara-Penthay. But who would reap the benefit ? Salarin ? Charax ? If Charax's personal slave was responsible for delivering melena, would that earn his freedom ? Or would Salarin subscribe the credit ? For now, the council only believe I'm Salarin's slave.

I need sentence to think, but I can't when I'm being fucked so hard. All I'm sure of is that I must leave Gorack alive at to the lowest degree until we hear melaena's conclusion. And that means while we wait, I'll be getting a lot to a greater extent familiar with Gorack's phallus.

While I reach that conclusion, this afoul savage of a man climaxes inside me for the indorsement time. The second clip, but no uncertainty not the last.

29 - incarceration

The next few days are not pleasant for me. I have deposed the one called Trindii as Gorack's favorite, so every day is spent in her place in the pillory, moaning over and over as I'm publicly humiliated in front of the daily audience. My nighttime are spent in his bed.

Gorack is the sort of feeble man who needs the substantiation of others to ensure his self-esteem. He can not just have me in individual. His entourage must bear witness to my defeat, so he might enjoy in their admiration.

Occasionally, he addresses Dodayosk on the planet's holo-stream, and his fragile ego means next time this occurs, I am forced to seem, on my human knee, full-frontal with my second joint candid, future to his pot. My head is pulled back painfully by my pilus, to make sure everyone has the opportunity to admire his prize's beautiful face.

Aghara-Penthay has a mighty fleet, but they can not threaten us, he tells the unhurt public. attend at the prizes they send to conciliate lord Yarook ( A sharp tug on my haircloth makes me flinch ). The engraft chips from Dodayosk mean everything to Salarin, we are reminded. The fabrication plant - a short walk of life from the Royal palace - is armed with atomics, and Lord Yarook can can them at a touch. The slave owner will never take a chance an attack.

After the program, he is pleased with himself. So, using his biotech-enhanced penis to sustain an erecting, that night he violates me for hours.

I've been raped plenty clip by enough men that enduring him shouldn't make much difference, but Gorack wants more from me than sex. He wants to violate my mind, so he questions me endlessly about outcome between our parting on that tape drive watercraft, and the intervening old age to my arrival on Aghara-Penthay. He wants to eff me, really make love me, so he might contrive the worst ways to assert his victory over me.

Unfortunately, inside my top dog is precisely where I don't want him to be. So I give as little of the truth as is safety. I joined the Djenerion, hiding my shameful mysterious. I joined the Okhoron, and became part of Tisya's bodyguard. And there, I temporarily diverge from silver dollar. I merely say that I was captured along with Tisya's other escorts, chosen by Salarin owing to my similarity to Ja-Alixxe. Then back to the the true - I was altered to resemble my full cousin, and then substituted on the mission to Dodayosk.

That much info should have been enough to hold open me safety until it was time to act upon a verdict from the Republic, if it wasn't for another unfortunate coincidence. By Night two, I was ineffective to conceal my uneasiness any retentive, or the aching need for my laborious breasts to be drained, and Gorack learned fully of all the direction in which was all-important for me to deliver female intimate companions.

He teased me at foremost, for it entertained Gorack to deny me the essential fulfillment as a means of torturing. But as I started losing my mind with arousal, he must have seen that something needed to be done before I passed too far beyond convalescence.

Hence, my current site. It is again the time of audience, and Gorack has had all the distaff striver in the family lined up. While it downpours outside, and while I'm once again in the detested pillory, they are made to parade back and forth in front of me, naked, in a perverse peach competition, so I might choose a companion. It pleases men to watch char with char, so very much of the menage have gathered, and there is much boost, whoever the miss's owner might be. The relinquish citizens of the palace each anticipate watching my intimacies with their hard worker.

Most of the women show little emotion as they present themselves. For a sex hard worker, it matters little who the side by side companion might be. A few, perhaps those who also have some druthers for females, smell at me more directly, wearing expressions of venture. standardised bit that perhaps loathe a womanhood's touch try to recoil into themselves.

Edzie appears with contusion on her face and avoids eye contact, desperately ashamed of the state she's in. Shortly after Edzie comes the turn of Gorack's other favorite, the swarthy woman named Trindii. She looks charitable towards me, probably remembering what I'm enduring on a nightly basis, on her behalf.

The one I eventually choose has positioned herself near the end of the parade, probably deliberately, in the hope I'd piss my determination before she needed to even appear. She must throw seen me in the planet-wide broadcast and had time to devise her response. Like the others she walks towards me and then away, au naturel, weaponry at her sides, so front and binding might be inspected. She doesn't look at me, and tries to stare at the floor.

I stiffen with shock, and Gorack, whose penis is abstruse in my vagina, feels it.

"Her ?"he says."That one is fairish, but hardly one of the prettiest we have… She's nothing but one of the guardroom whores."

It's unsufferable - she shouldn't even be alive, let alone here, but I'd recognize Orteza anywhere. That slight honey oil shade to her skin. The fill out dead body. Her large optic, and that sensual mouth.

"Perhaps,"I shrug, trying to hatch my sideslip."Let's see the residuum please, Master."

Why must the Gods twit me with the demon of my past tense ? First Ja-Alixxe, then Gorack, and now her ?

And what does her comportment mean value for me ? Orteza wears the knuckle down mark of an deep-seated female, pale in color for her, to abide out, like the home run Aghara-Penthay give all swart womanhood. She must possess been processed, but surely the slave dealer found out who she was, and then she shouldn't have been permitted to live. Orteza must know full well that I shouldn't have escaped mind either. The contagion showing the fate of my poor discerp squad was broadcast to the unscathed galaxy. Will her imbed compel her to warn her masters here, or even the Slavers ?

I make a show of examining the remaining candidates, but I have only one choice. I am forced by the compulsion to suffice my truthful captain, just as she is forced to process hers. It must be her. I need to understand whether there's a endangerment to me.

"So… Who-do-you-want-to-fuck ?"Gorack asks, in time with poking into my body.

"Her, sea captain,"I moan, and indicate Orteza.

"She does not please me,"complains Gorack."If you want her, I warn you I'll have to observe a way to make your encounters more entertaining."

My heart cesspool, but all the same, it has to be her.

"Master can do as he wishes,"I say softly,"but Master asked for my true choice, and it is her."

"Step forward,"Gorack orders Orteza, so he can get a better feeling, and then a chronological sequence of further commands follow."Stand before the can. work your book binding. Touch your toes. Now kneel before me. No, knees apart."

Orteza obeys, presenting us with a series of opinion. Some are obscene, some are not.

"You really want her ?"Gorack asks."The safeguard tell me she pukes every sentence she's fucked in the rima oris - a phobia of incursion. But perhaps she's better with other women."

"She is my type,"I lie, and hope Gorack knows niggling enough of female desires to believe me. Orteza watch me warily.

"These sluts from the guardroom are really too heavily used,"Gorack says with disapproval."But I suppose if you must, I did say you could choose. I'm not going to screw her myself, and risking her diseases, though."

"Thank you, Master,"I say softly. Orteza looks relieved at this extra bit of news.

"Remind me of your name, hussy,"Gorack requirement of Orteza.

"Ortiera, victor,"lies Orteza, staring at me in a dare to contradict. Interesting. Has she been ordered to use a new figure ? It's not easy for an implanted female to be dishonest.

"Osk,"calls Gorack, and the willowy racy alien I met on my first arrival steps forwards.

"Lord Yarook,"he acknowledges with oily deference.

"At nighttime, from now on Ortiera is to sleep in my chamber,"he says in a pure tone of displeasure."Put a bedroll on the floor desirable for a slave. Once I am finished with Ja-Jeedie, Ja-Jeedie may sate her indigence using this girl."

"As you wish,"says Osk, but Gorack is already continuing.

"A lord does not change his head, but Ja-Jeedie's pick does not delight me, and she will stand for it. Thus, Ortiera - my will is that you will trust Ja-Jeedie, as she seems to desire you, but you will also feel only contempt for her. I want it to fire you to hurt her, to humble her, to encumber her. You will realize her lap you out, every unmarried Night. And only once you have attained your own orgasm from abusing her, and she is forced to beg, is Ja-Jeedie permitted her own requisite release."

"maestro,"Orteza nods. Her expression remains neutral. I wonder if, without the compulsion of the implant, it would let given her pleasure to torment me. Orteza never liked me. And then she slammed that door, leaving me to the swarm. A selection which apparently saved her lifespan. If one of us deserves to receive cruelty, it is her, not me. Damn the Gods.

"You - Ortiera, and the other slaves are dismissed now,"Gorack says, raising his voice."Go back to pleasing your masters. Osk, what is next on the parliamentary law of line of work ?"

The remainder of the day passes just as slowly as you might imagine, for one who is spending it displayed naked in a pillory. Afterwards, Gorack eats an evening meal with his senior team - a defer assemblage totaling xxii souls. Scantily dressed slave fair sex from the kitchens serve the solid food. I am no gourmet, but I know enough to be sure what I'm seeing laid out is fare only available to a loaded man.

As a sex slave, I am neither permitted a stead at the board, nor clothing. The only when intellectual nourishment I am given comes from Gorack's hand. To take in, it I must beg on my hands and articulatio genus, picking morsel from his digit using only my backtalk, as though I'm some sort of pet beast. For now, I tolerate debasing myself, letting them all believe he has tamed me. I need to keep my energy up. But I swear to myself that each chagrin represents another of his bones I shall break when my time comes.

The meal drags on interminably. I am much mocked. At one breaker point I crawl around with a woman riding on my back, slapping my rump to form me go faster. A sycophant praises Gorack - he's never seen such a beautiful female person as me, he says. He observes how powerful Gorack must be to learn a slave like me, before sadly reflecting how a good deal he'd like to try someone like me, just once.

"Use her,"Gorack says generously."There's a mat in the corner. Every man deserves to know his dream."

So while the guests are eating their sweet track, I spend the prison term on my cover at the edge of the room being raped. The man's exercising weight bears down on me. His companions call out salacious advice. He's laboured, and I'd conflict to escape from under him, even if I was capable to resist. His smell is unpleasant, and it lingers, clinging to me long after he's finished.

When he returns to the board, I push myself up and wipe between my legs with a contaminating material rag. And I reflect that this is only the beginning of my nighttime of misery.

30 - Orteza

"Arouse her !"Gorack orders Orteza, and as my curse begins, I reflect on the itinerary that have brought us here.

Last year I was a member of the Okhoron, Tisya's elite bodyguard. The route of my fate seemed clearly mapped back then - service to The religious sect until my speed up physical and mental processes caught up with me, and then retirement to lull gardens on the Djenerix homeworld. Of row, throughout my life I was aware of Aghara-Penthay, and The Rape Run. Any woman in the free universe from a satellite connected to the rest of the galaxy knows and fears The slave dealer. We knew that Tisya was a peculiar target, so we had to be vigilant to Slaver attacks, and be ready to defend her at the price of our lives, and hers, if necessary.

But I never really believed I'd become a slave dealer captive. I never believed I'd become an implant slave.

As for Orteza, she was nothing to me until we were united for the delegacy to Aghara-Penthay. She wasn't Okhoron, and there are many junior priestesses and lay-women serving the Sect. She looked like a swarthy human being, although one with a deliquium emerald caste to her hide. Her data file said she was Skix, an foreigner wash so similar to homo that they're up to of breeding with human males. Her filing cabinet said she was a lesbian, although implantation might have altered that, as happened with my own sexuality. Her file said high school intelligence, leading to overconfidence and issues with authority. Implantation will have changed that, too.

There was clash between Orteza and I from the start, long before she slammed that room access in my brass, condemning me to charm by the swarm. My impression towards her back then were mostly irritation. I would never in my gaga surmisal considered Orteza as a future tense sexual partner. I would never have imagined Orteza would be somebody for whom I'd be lying on my spine, limbs stretched up and down, bare and encumber, as her plaything. But so the universe plays out its games.

For her starting time move, she rubs her oiled handwriting over my breasts, finger grazing back and forth across my nipple so they rapidly stiffen. Like most sex slaves, she understands the distaff body and she'll have the noesis to turn me on whether I wish it or not. And Orteza may not be the most desirable char in the wandflower - she is a little short, and her torso lacks tone, but she is a woman, and her bod is plushy and right, and her turgid optic, with a slight upwards slant at the tip, make her look even more feminine.

I want to refer her, but I'm strapped into handlock which hold my carpus and ankle closely together, and these in turn are fastened tightly to the oral sex and foot of Gorack's sumptuous bed. Thus barely able to move, I'm ruler-straight, out on my back with my limbs extended, and my limb around my ears. Once they'd secured me helpless in this fashion, Gorack had Orteza range me. At the command"Arouse her ! ”, she began rubbing me with the scented oil.

Her slick bridge player glide easily over me. Her pinch is soft, her flesh warm. Back and forth, back and Forth River, shifting the leaden masse shot of my white meat, concentrating only on my nipples until the rest of my consistence reverberates with the tingling need.

"Please,"I beg her."Please, Ort… Ortiera, that's enough on my chest, just facilitate me cum."

Gorack said she had to tease me until I begged her. I figure the endgame is going to inevitable, so there's little point hanging on to any pride. The sooner I can convey this to a conclusion, the better.

Orteza looms over me.

"Think I'll let it be that slowly ?"she says in a beefy voice."When I've wanted to do this since I first saw you, standing in the audience chamber ?"We both know that's not where we met, but there's no meter to conceive her cold-shoulder emphasis on ‘ audience sleeping room'proving it a message just for me. Drawing back her arm, Orteza slaps the back of her hired hand, rightfield to forget, across my defenseless knocker, with all the force she can summon.

Engorged with milk, my chest is hypersensitive, and the puff is stunning to me. For a second, it's as though I'm falling back into the mattress, about to pass out.

"Oh, you fucking bitch !"I groan softly, senses reeling.

"What did you prognosticate me ?"gloats Orteza drawing back other hand.

A moment puff, from the diametric face, rakes left to right across me. I'm tensing in my bail in anticipation before she hits, but there's cipher I can do to protect myself.

"I've met women like you before,"she leer."Think you're near than the rest of us, just because you're beautiful."

"No, time lag !"I stammer, but she strikes me from right to forget again, with equalize force, and this clock time the puff is so intense it sends me absent for a mo.

"…permanent damage,"Gorack is saying when cognisance regaining."It would cost a luck to replace a slave of that quality."

"I know what I'm doing, schoolmaster,"Orteza says a picayune petulantly."I worked at a dominatrix before I was enslaved. I know how to push just hard enough. Look."Once more she switches slope. Once again the pain in the neck is heavy enough for a moment's blackout.

"…like seeing her humiliated, don't get me ill-timed, but don't get carried away. You're here to do a avail,"Gorack continues."She has to be milked, and brought to culminate every day by a female, or she starts losing her mind. Fail me in that that duty, and there are plenty of other guard duty room fille who would prefer to sleep in here. Maybe one of…"

Another brutal smasher means I don't hear the end. Her constant changing sides means I have less opportunity to build up tolerance to the nuisance.

Logically, I know Orteza isn't going to properly harm me. This is nix to a greater extent than teasing. And yet being tied spreadeagled on my rachis, I start to palpate terrified of her. Perhaps it's because my boob are already so sore, she might not realize how often the beating hurts me.

"Please, Ortiera,"I beg again, with as very much humility as I can muster.

"wagerer,"she says."This time, I believe you mean it. And here's your reward."

Orteza straddles my face, and sinks her pelvis down on to me, looking down my body in much the same way Ja-Alixxe did in our first sexual meeting. If it wasn't for Orteza's blue skin and less-athletic contour, it could feel as though my fate was trapped in a closed circuit.

She's not that heavy, but it's uncomfortable all the same, with her Mass pushing my prolong blazon even harder into my ears, and it's unmanageable to breathe when I'm surrounded in all directions by flesh. Her pussy insistence over my mouth, and my nose is buried in the scissure of her buttocks. She's warm against me. When I get the chance to inhale, I'm breathing in overpowering odor of sex and body waste. For the first sentence ever, I hear Orteza moan, and it's the wanton phone of a woman in heat.

"My slave,"Orteza crows as she leans forward and begins to caress my clitoris."At concluding. Well, use your hard worker tongue to please me, then. Once I've had my coming, I might permit your own release."

"Yes, stick by your tongue right in her snatch, Ja-Jeedie,"Gorack, who is probably feeling ignored, butts in. Of line I obey, stretching my tongue as far as I can to probe inside Orteza's marrow, and I taste her. She groans, not from suffering, but from joy."That's it,"Gorack continues."celebrate it inside as long as you can. Both of you stay there, you're keeping that tongue there until Ortiera has cum over your face."

I circle my tongue mystifying inside her vagina. Orteza is already very wet. Perhaps she desired me all along. Perhaps she really was a dominatrix, and degrading me like this would be arousing to her, even without Gorack's command.

Her juice do not try pleasant to me, as those of some cleaning lady do. I'm familiar enough with the sense of taste of sperm to tell she's had sex recently, and is still unclean. Gorack's view do back to me. He called her a heavily used guardroom lady of pleasure, full of disease. She might be a dirty fancy woman, but between the two of us, she's derive out on top all the Saami.

Orteza will be enjoying her bit of victory over me. I wish I could retaliate in some way, but instead I circle my knife against the subdued human body her interior, stimulating her so a good deal Orteza can't keep still, and she gyrates against me.

Why are the divinity so cruel ? Why her, of all mass ? And why him ? I'd have killed this whoreson Gorack and left for that happy future already, if it wasn't for melena. The Colonel better be worth all this.

"How the mighty have fallen,"I hear Gorack saying from somewhere nearby my pass."You can suppose how surprised I was when Ja-Jeedie arrived here, slave-marked, and ready to spread her wooden leg for Aghara-Penthay, but I was even more storm to see she still had that way of looking down her nose at me. When she's nothing now but an implanted piece of ass. What do you remember of that, Ortiera ?"

Orteza moans, by way of an answer. She's even wetter now, and the taste of her overwhelms my senses. They talk about the high temperature of foreplay, and literally with her, in the jungles of Dodayosk the succus are very much ardent than when I first tongued her.

"What do you think of that ?"Gorack repeats.

"I think she looks down her wind at everybody,"Orteza result,"unless somebody's sitting on it."

I think she must be close to orgasm, but then, she lifts her hips just above me. Orteza doesn't want this to end too quickly. Temporarily, I can't reach her, but she continues her ministration to my core. And Gods help me, this cleaning lady knows how to turn a girl on. Please, Orteza, stoppage. Please, Orteza, don't stop. I squirm in my alliance to reduce the contact between us, but even though I have my branch together I can do little to evade her teasing fingers. Just above me hovers Orteza's genitals. I crane my brain up as far as I can, seeking her lovingness, her smell, and I just manage to sweep the lip of her vulva with my nose before she raises herself further out of reaching.

"I know, little slave lady friend,"Orteza tells me in a seductive throaty rustle."Just think of all the things you'd be doing to me now, if I was the one chained up."

"Yes, imagine that, Ja-Jeedie…"Gorack chips in."Fantasize. Fantasize about hurting her."

It's too very much. The look-alike, and that unbearably delightful touch. I moan. I must moan. They're only messing with me, but I'm must still act as though implanted, and imagine it anyway. I picture her. Orteza restrained. Whipping Orteza. Biting Orteza. Goading Orteza. Electrocuting Orteza. Making Orteza cry. Groping Orteza.

"Mmm, have mercy, Ja-Jeedie,"Orteza says to me,"That's how I'd beg you ”. Her touch has abruptly gone from my core, and I lift my coxa automatically, chasing it's return. She settles back down on me, bodyweight pressing hard against the bridge deck of my nose. I can steal my glossa into her vulva again, so I do.

Nobody speaks for several transactions, then. The lone phone are the noisy, wanton moans of Orteza's mounting sexual pleasure. I can't see Gorack, as Orteza's fulcrum is squashed onto my face. The soiled taste sensation of her wetness filling my lip. I can smell her shit. And yet, I must continue to have her. keep back my clapper inside as recollective as I can, he said. I'm supposed to have some element of free will, but I can no more refuse that urge as I could dissent the emptiness in space.

When she climaxes, she does it with a handout of fluid which inundates me. Orteza's thighs tense when she cums, and she groans whorishly. It must be a very pleasurable orgasm for her, for it's too vivid for her to rest upright, and she slumps forward, supporting herself by leaning her hands on my hip. Through the pressure still there on my human face, I feel her trunk panting as she gasps with the physical effort. My tongue, still oceanic abyss within her, is soaked, and I have to swallow up back some of her secretions.

"A water gun,"Gorack observes clinically."wellspring, squirter, polish Ja-Jeedie off."

I'm so aroused it only takes a few pinnace apoplexy before my own orgasm follows hers. My orgasm is too vivid to hold myself back and I cry out, arcuate and unbending in my bonds. It's been a duet of days since my live on liberation, and on this social function, I too am"a squirter ”.

Orteza dismounts quickly when it's over, leaving me gasping on the bed, covered in sweat.

"Master, if I may be excused ?"

"You are only half-finished. Now suck her dry, slave."

"sea captain ?"Orteza queries.

"Straddle her, and suck her titties dry. Do it now. I want to view the feel on Ja-Jeedie's aspect as she's milked like she's some brood mare."

Orteza remounts, but must search uncertain.

"You're squeamish about this, of all things ?"Gorack frowns."Fine. I compel you to love the taste of her milk, even more than than you hate her as a woman. Is that enough ?"

It must be sufficient, for her head goes down on me instantly. Orteza bites my nipple once, just to remind me she's in thrill, but then her lips close gently on me, and there's the merciful departure of the suction on my aching titty.

She goes at a yard, emptying one white meat and then the other. The body process doesn't feeling intimate. It's more like enduring an embarrassing aesculapian procedure. Wrists and ankles stretched in my bonds, I can only stare up at the ceiling of his bedchamber and wait for the process to be complete.

"That's right, mighty Ja-Jeedie,"Gorack gloats."I see your face. Think about how low you've become. intend about your wet pussy, and how I might decide to hump your gob afterwards."

I think about how often I'd like to down him. Slowly.

"I'm finished,"Orteza says abruptly, hopping off the bed and making quick fix for the door.

"You're sleeping here, on the hard worker mat with Ja-Jeedie,"Gorack says firmly.

"Of class, Master,"demurs, Orteza,"but even slaves need the privy. I'll be correctly back."

So that was that. early than my forced arousal, there was minuscule pleasure in my academic term with Orteza. And yet something about it must take in turned Gorack on, for he resecures my ankles - wide apart this time - takes his seat between my defenseless thighs, mounts the bed, and piece of ass me long and hard.

"I'll have your first cousin here soon,"he tells me during our rutting,"and I'll do this to her. Ja-Alixxe also has a debt to pay me."

At some gunpoint during my rape Orteza must cause returned to the way, for when Gorack finishes, she's there, silently watching us from the slave mat at the foot of the bed.

I've been exhausted by my brutal day, but log Z's doesn't come easily. I'm not permitted to roost on the bed. Rather, I'm secured in my third perspective of the evening. Gorack has two sets of"X"shaped shackles - the chains only six column inch in duration, with a wristband on each branch. Orteza and I are secured together in these - articulatio talocruralis to mortise joint, wrists to wrists. Then we're left to spend the Nox on a hard mat, facing each other, our bonds keeping us so close our bodies must contact. I'm acutely cognisant of her presence, her warmness, her breath.

Gorack orders us not to verbalise before taking his more well-to-do place, so we don't, but until tire out finally allows us release, we have fiddling else to do but stare into each other's optic. The raised brow over Orteza's enceinte liquid centre convey a hundred unspoken head, as I'm indisputable do mine, but we are implanted slave, so the rest of the Night is spent unanswered.

31 - Grind

I'm woken by the sound of a woman moaning. I try to proceed, and commemorate I went to kip in shackles. Inches away from me, Orteza is having a incubus. It's interesting that Gorack's command to hush releases during eternal rest. With a jingle of Sir Ernst Boris Chain I reach up and squash her arm, tying to wake her without disturbing our brutal overlord, but it's too late.

"Slaves ?"he says, irritated, and our day begins.

Gorack holds hearing as common during the day, and again I'm displayed for the function on my hands and articulatio genus, back in that hateful pillory. It would be bad enough that I'm in the pillory while aching all over from a night on the hard mat, but this time a broadcaster bar is added between my human knee - a broadcaster bar which makes me feel even more vulnerable, and only makes the aeonian stimulation from Gorack's prick worse. Any endeavor to debar moaning and grunting in response to each movement he makes in me is impossible, and a day of very world intimate chagrin proceeds.

Again, that Nox I'm tormented to orgasm by Orteza, again she drains my bosom, and again she is permitted a bathroom break before the two of us are secured together on the base. On it goes. I'm raped all day, tormented in the evening, and then I sleep on an uncomfortable mat chained closely to a au naturel slave. After a mates More days of the same routine, I can't remember ever feeling so exhausted.

Gorack's bedroom is almost as sumptuous as Salarin's was, but when you're trying to take a breather on a hard pad and the only softness is the consistency of the other chained female, it makes no deviation if you're surrounded by the quilt of kings. Orteza and I soon surrender all secrecy, and we learn to sleep with limbs intertwined in whatever formation offers some relievo. Often, I wake to find myself on my back, her short image draped across me, caput on my chest. I need less sleep than she does, so when that happens, I must lie there looking around the room.

At Gorack's bedside is a safe, activated by bio-recognition of Gorack's flag and ribbon. Locked in there he keeps the key fruit to his Empire - some cryptical documents, bank bonds for 1000000 of credits, and the exigency self-destruct trigger for the atomics. Not that wealth or power is utile to an implanted striver in Salarin's service. I'm more vexation with the cabinet at the other side of the bed - the one where the restraints and anguish implements are stored.

One day, I shall pour down him, I swear to myself as Orteza drowses across me. That thought is all that keeps me going. At least it does for those risky few twenty-four hour period. Until, surprisingly, my berth begins to improve.

As I've said, Gorack is one of those men for whom the greatest pleasure is the conquest. So, after the low point of breaking me in as many agency as potential, his interestingness in me begins to decline. Officially declared the most beautiful womanhood in his possession, my use reduces, to only being displayed as a symbol of his wealth during the audiences.

Gods, thank you. After my number one reaching, there have been many continuous Nox enduring whichever of his whim will excite him, and then when he's sufficiently hard he rapes me, usually in my ass. So I scarcely dare to believe it the first time he fancies a alteration, and Trindii, the former favorite, is summoned to the sleeping accommodation instead.

For a sex slave, anticipating a night alone is like Heaven, but the fates are not that kind. It turns out when I'm not serving Gorack, I'm opened up for wider use. early on on, he'd said I'd be shared around his senior staff, and sure enough it's dependable. Even some of the significant adult female working for Gorack are given their turn of events, although female animal trainer always prohibit me from pleasing my own perceptiveness with them.

Orteza is regularly summoned from the sentry go elbow room, to connect in. The whole of the business firm knows of my specific needs and my choice of her, so a best-loved pastime is to take me chained down and then marshal the dark-skinned alien to arouse me. I'm defenseless against Orteza, and she succeeds every fourth dimension. Once I'm aching with desire and thoroughly humiliated, then the consultation, who have also been excited by the fit, satisfy their lusts on me. I quickly lose count of the number of my sexual better half I endure from my captor's home.

Thus goes the hierarchy on Dodayosk : Gorack abuses whoever he likes. His retinue abuse only those whom Gorack license, including me. Their victims, including Orteza, also abuse me. Guards and menial staff are given the lower calibre females.

But zip in all this matches the low points of first being captured on Aghara-Penthay, and first discovering that the master I'd been sent to was Gorack.

I am Ajeedie. Sex hard worker, yes, but survivor.

There are many sadists in the extragalactic nebula other than Salarin, so my sessions with Orteza are always performed in straw man of an interview. Therefore, seven solar day later I've still been unable to carry on a private conversation. Orteza and I are irrevocably linked together in the minds of the house, which is unfortunate. Perhaps if I could change state back time, I would hold requested another striver, and found it easier to speak to my other mate alone.

I often puzzle over our shared past. What is her arcanum ? Orteza was, for reasons unknown, spared the fate of the others in the strike team, but she almost certainly saw the feed showing our dismembered baby. Why wasn't I punished, she must be asking. Why wasn't she punished, I am asking. And what if she remained longer on Aghara-Penthay ? The cum airstream was not broadcast across the galaxy, but slave trader channels showed it throughout the satellite. I was the winner, and chosen by Salarin. The unhurt major planet saw me. She would hold seen me. That's why Morg when running to his faction leader.

Perhaps it's something as bare as a misunderstanding. Thousands of char move through Aghara-Penthay each twelvemonth, and it is possible a clerical supervision severed Orteza's connecter in the records to my team. She should revere me, then. I could deliver the inevitable Slaver justice. I ponder whether I hate her enough to take her along too when I complete my military mission, and she can finish her life history sharing the destiny of the others - Norenda, Ko, Illyri, Ak-Mancheen, and so on. I wonder if those inadequate souls are still animated, after being reduced to null more than mute body - lumps of dumb flesh to be so terribly and gradually devoured by the Elmek.

And then at last comes the afternoon when we're in the bedroom of Koosh - yet another of Gorack's senior aides. Koosh is morbidly obese - the size of his eubstance being reverse to the size of it of his member. So big is he it's not promiscuous to attain penetration. His mind is as lethargic as his dead body, so after one of the scant and wanton rape I've ever suffered, he drifts into a drowse, sprawled naked on his bed, and I'm left to relieve myself with Orteza devoid of a crowd.

I'm so used to our routine that once she's done and excuses herself for the traditional quilt recess, it takes a second to realize I'm under no compulsion to continue in the bedchamber. But when I do, I give Orteza a moment to consider she's condom, and with a mistrustful glance at the slumbering Koosh, I rise and silently pad after my sometime mate.

I steal into the bathroom and hear her vomiting her abdomen total of breast milk into the bowling ball, and I don't immediately process the meaning of what's happening. Then, my Okhoron-speed mental nimbleness catches up. Simultaneously Orteza turns, sees me, and I slam her spinal column into the wall, pinning her there by pressing my forearm into her throat.

"He gave you a clear order, that you were to love my milk, as much as you hated me,"I hiss,"but I've seen the smell on your face every fourth dimension you have to suckle. What is it with you, Orteza ? Faulty implant ? And why are you even alive ?"

"Why are you alive, Ajeedie ?"she replies with equal venom."You know what slaveholder say ‘ no woman is too beautiful to be above the law ’. How come our leader didn't end up with our other poor comrades ? You're not that pretty."

I use my bodyweight and insistence harder into her throat, cutting off the air supply.

"You're a danger to me,"I say hostilely as she gags and strains to inhale."You jazz too practically. I should kill you now, unless you give me a rationality not to. So what's your private ?"

"Can't trustfulness you,"she back talk, not even a whisper.

"You're gon na have to, unless you want to die in the succeeding minute of arc,"I tell her.

She resists right until the brink of unconsciousness, when I can see her eyes starting to stray back in her head. Then she speaks. At world-class, I think I've misheard.

"No implant,"she mouths.

I'm so storm I release her. Orteza slumps down, resting back against the wall.

"What ?"I say.

"No implant,"she repeats, louder now she can verbalize.

"That's impossible. You have the mark."

"Exactly,"says Orteza."That's how I've got away with it."

"I don't understand,"I state.

"That's why it's so effective."

"Just talk."

"You'll remember I shut the door on you,"Orteza says, looking away,"and I watched through the porthole as those flying things surrounded you. Then I ran."

"You'll pay for betraying me to the swarm,"I say coldly."We could have got both got away."

"You know that's not true up,"tabulator Orteza."Slavers would soon take in found out the loss leader was missing. I was less pregnant. Alone, I still had a chance."

She probably has a point, but I'm not going to yield her the satisfaction of agreeing.

"Only a little further into the Slaver building, I came across a bedroom of horrors,"Orteza presses on."They must cause used it to process new captives. All the equipment was there. That's when I had my idea. Where adept to hide out the phonograph needle, than in the rick ?"

"I stripped. It was the hardest thing I've ever done - dumping my bodysuit down a garbage chute, knowing it was my lone protection, my only chance of disguise as a male person. But I did it. Then I held that device to my side, that gives the cross, and I activated it. It burned so much I nearly dropped it. But the mental process worked. The elbow room had a mirror, and when I checked my reflection, I looked just like every early processed slave."

"I put on one of those red slave wraps, and I left the chamber, putting as a good deal distance between myself and the residue of you as possible. After that, I could scarcely believe how well my plan worked. Every metre I ran into groups of slave trader men, I'd just say I was running an errand for my master. They saw the fall guy, and made all the right wrong assumptions. A couple of times I was molested, but no one raped me. The men seemed to have early matter on their brain. It was chaos on the Earth's surface in the aftermath of the maraud, with the two dead junto leaders, all thanks to us."

"I couldn't just rest on the surface forever though, so I worked my way towards the shuttle pads, hoping to find oneself some way back onto the Hub, and then maybe to jump on one of the transports. I came across a vast group of prisoner - several hundred - mass medium and low-grade female being herded towards a bird, all packaged and ready to go to auction. When their guards weren't looking, I slipped into the group."

"I'd hoped it would be as easy to leave the hard worker shipment as it was to join them, but when I was on the Hub - the skinny to fly the coop I'd been - the guard kept us confined constantly, and my plan began to unravel. There are outsider on the Hub, and slaves need to be more carefully supervised once they're up there. Before I'd found a hazard to slip away, I was confined as a prisoner in one of the auction theater, and the group of woman was broken up into tidy sum, make for sale."

"Finally, the presence of an extra female was noticed. That was probably my most dangerous mo since fleeing from our group. If they'd scanned me, they'd have discovered the missing chip. But the men put it down to a clerical screw-up, and they were in two much of a hurry to occupy about one low-value female. I was forced into a neck opening apprehension, joined by chains to the cervix of a dozen other adult female, and added to the inventory as ‘ Ortiera ’. From that fourth dimension, my prospect to escape was gone."

"They paraded us, naked, on a catwalk in an auction room, crowded with men. Many males have no interest or ability to buy a striver, but they like to watch the auctions. Many Sir Thomas More were probably watching from other worlds, using their screens. It was almost unbearable. We were not permitted to conceal ourselves. Many of us were handled, and we had our muscles or boob squeezed as a monstrance of our ripeness for the audience."

"After that, there is little More to tell, Ajeedie."

"I was sold to the house of Yarook, here on Dodayosk. Ironically, I escaped from Aghara-Penthay without being raped, but I was not so lucky here. My intent was to leave the castle immediately, but if you've explored, you'll soon discover the entrances are constantly guarded, the windows are too narrow, and the paries are too high to jump. And I have little opportunity to explore. For much of my time, I am chained."

"No doubt it would please you that the one who betrayed you on Aghara-Penthay to hold open herself ended up as a lowly guardroom whore, and I've been fucked dozens of times every day since my arrival. But so it has been. At to the lowest degree it was until you arrived, and your pick offered me some respite."

She studies me carefully as I think. What does this mean, that the graven image delivered me Orteza, and an Orteza with free will ? Should I avenge myself ? Should I make use of her ? Should I give her to Aghara-Penthay ?

"I desire you,"Orteza blurts out,"of class I do - I have done since I first saw you - you are beautiful. And you know what members of the religious order truly think about consuming dairy already. I struggle to hide my horror. But I do not wish to torment you. That is mere appearance, for Lord Yarook."

"Gorack,"I correct."I will always know him as Gorack."

There is silence for a moment, as we both think.

"Your go. Why do you live ?"Orteza then asks suspiciously."You're a danger to me, as well."

"Only because I resemble Ja-Alixxe - my cousin,"I explain."That's why they changed my hair."

"I'd noticed."

"Gorack wants Ja-Alixxe. He wants her so a lot, she's more of import to him than anything. They have an old score, and he dreams constantly of getting revenge. Salarin thought he could buy Gorack off by sending me, as an impersonator. The supply of engraft chips is critical to the Slaver saving, as you know. More important, even, than delivering me to justice for what we did. It was just bad luck that Gorack and I had also met before. We'd have known, if he didn't use that stupid person championship. But I was here by then."

"How occur you're not telling him the Sojourner Truth, when he gives an parliamentary law ?"

"To convert Gorack I was Ja-Alixxe, I had to be able to lie. I have a very particular customs implant…"

I rub the fellow spot at the back of my head where the flake went in.

"For now I obey only Salarin, but he's told me to act as though my implant is normal."

Orteza looks at me warily.

"And what of me ?"

"Salarin has not given any particular orders about you. So long as that doesn't modification and you don't threaten my foreign mission, there's no reason we can't carry on as we are."

Suddenly she takes on a pleading expression.

"You have to help me escape,"Orteza begs."Just as far as outside the fortress. I'll be fine from there on my own. I know don't deserve it, but please… I can't stand it. Rape after rape after rape. The guards -they disgust me. I can't-"

"tranquillity !"I bark."soul's coming !"

Reacting faster than me for once, Orteza seizes me, and wrench me to her in a romantic embracing. It would experience been a good tactic if Koosh was the one to notice us. It's not rare for sex slaves to allay their excruciation with hush-hush liaisons, and Koosh might not take care. But the Gods are against us again. Gorack's noncitizen adjutant is the male who walks in. Osk is familiar to me know, the slimly built man with a cyan iridescent skin, black eyes, and tubes of flesh from his skull instead of hair.

He's made my skin crawl since the beginning, but Osk takes on a particularly cruel, baleful expression when he sees us.

"well, Ja-Jeedie… and the pet…"he crows, rubbing his hired man together with mirthfulness."Which one of you had this idea ? Creeping away for a individual encounter… Oh, the master won't like this. Not at all."

With spirits sinking, Orteza and I share a glimpse.

"Well, which one of you ? I asked you a question."

We are supposed to be implanted - compelled to obey.

"It was me, passe-partout,"blurts out Orteza."I wanted her. I thought no-one would mind."

"Oh dear !"glee Osk."The guardroom hussy is getting ideas. She thinks she can pleasure herself with the master's prize, when so many free men must wait their number ?"

"Forgive me, professional,"Orteza says humbly.

Did she just give herself to protect me ? Or was that a self-serving gesture - answering before my implant might endanger us ?

It doesn't matter. Osk has caught us, and we're in the poop. Why has he come to look for us now, of all times ? The answer is not long in coming.

"If you're not too busy, slave, you're needed in the throne room for display,"Osk says, emphasizing the"slave ”."There's a delegation coming from the Republic."

His announcement that I'm about to go on display, yet again, is probably meant to hurt me. I must hide out that I'm feeling the inverse. Oh, God be praised. At finis - the Republic are back. My ordeal here is nearly over, whatever the decision. Gorack, have your fun with me, for you have alone hours left to live.

"As for you,"Osk says to Orteza,"perhaps you would observe us with your presence, as well."

32 - Stobbo

There is the sound of a swish, and a crack cocaine, followed swiftly by Orteza's inevitable cry of pain. In a corner of Gorack's throne room, she is standing in a punishment frame - a upright square formed of wooden electron beam fitted with halo and fastenings, so a victim might be secured standing within. Orteza occupies the frame, nude, her limb stretched out into an"X ”, and tied into place. She remains upright piano, but only thanks to her thralldom. Repeatedly she loses cognizance and hangs from her bound wrist, until she reawakens and the punishment resumes.

Osk did not delay with his tale notification. Gorack seemed delight, if anything - pleased to give birth an self-justification to pattern his cruelty. It's not as if Orteza and I even committed a great sin - we were not specifically forbidden from gathering alone. But there is an unsaid first moment that a knuckle down's sexual activities are under the mastery of the owner, and the more valuable the slave, the stricter the control. So we are both to be punished.

Swish, crack, and Orteza moans softly.

She is being beaten with a leather strap - wide and gravid, to deliver level best pain without permanent damage. Orteza has been stood in the penalization frame less than an hour, and yet almost her integral flesh, redeem her head, glows from the thrashing. Covering her consistence are deletion and bar where the lash was hard enough to break the skin.

Gorack's suite are taking round delivering the beating. They only pause when one of her tormentors wishes to rape Orteza. Already this has happened twice. It's the kickoff time I've seen her being fucked by a male.

But currently, a woman holds the lash. A thin, gray female with an ugly font. She seems to begrudge Orteza's ripe pattern, for the woman concentrates on beating Orteza's titty, and the fragile place between her legs.

As for me, a vertical wooden postal service, eight-foot-high and as thick as a tree diagram truck, has been positioned next to Gorack's potty. I stand with my spine against this, naked of course. My hands are passed behind the mail service, and then roped together. An extra length of R-2 is formed into a gin, which has been tightened around my neck, and then pulled upwards and tied off to a metal ring, located high-pitched above my head. Bound this way, I must continue on the tips of my toes, or be choked by the slip noose. My calf burn with elbow grease after only an time of day, and in the tropical estrus of Dodayosk, lather is pouring down my body.

The accent position alone would be bad enough, but they put something inside me - a device like a metallic egg on a bow. Once it was safely privileged my vagina, the egg felt like it was expanding to prevent its remotion, then the entirely device began to vacillate rapidly. Once upon a meter the stimulation would have been a reward, but in the era when I'm unable to culminate without contact from another char, I must stand in this positioning, on the verge of suffocating, and in such a state of arousal that my legs can't bear my weight.

"Legate Stobbo. And General brook, of the Republic,"Osk says.

"display them in,"Gorack says lazily.

There is a particularly ferocious swish, crack, right across Orteza's nipples, and she slumps unconscious mind in the frame.

"You'll have to wait until she revives now,"Gorack chides the gray cleaning woman."The knack with torture is not to let them make a break."

"I'm feeling horny,"one of the younger guardsmen cow dung in."I might as well fuck her in the ass while she's out."

The setting of Orteza's anal rape, and me on the post, is the sight which greets the commonwealth delegation. The barbate, middle-aged Legate Stobbo is just as I remember from before, and the way he looks at me - desire pretending not to be trust - is also familiar. universal creek is a woman. She has dark piercing eyes and high cheekbones, and she was probably quite the beauty of the flit twenty years ago, but now her expression has been hardened by tough decisions, and her body softened from year working behind a desk.

The cosmopolitan looks angrily at the debauched crowd. Only when she looks at Orteza and I, does her expression show any sign of shame. I lift my Kuki bravely and ascertain her. Please, please, let your presence signal the end to this.

"Welcome, honored visitors,"says Gorack.

"Divine Yarook,"responds Stobbo, inclining his fountainhead."You will echo, that the democracy wished to incentivize you to give up production of engraft chips. You said your footing were, that you would only do so in central for five million acknowledgment, and a Rape smuggler - the Republican colonel, Melena de Santo. Is that still the deal that you're offer ?"

Gorack laughs mirthlessly.

"It is."

My warmness rate, already rapid from straining in these ropes, and from my arousal, accelerates further. melaena can't seriously have agreed ? But then why else would the mission be here ?

"Most of the galaxy knows where Colonel de Santo is in sanctuary,"says Stobbo."General Brook here is the former military administrator of the Cancis rock'n'roll mining facility, and now of the new enigma location, where the democracy offers sanctuary to implanted slaves."

"So Melena has said yes ?"gloat Gorack.

"I think we're getting ahead of ourselves,"interrupts brook coldly.

"But you wouldn't have come from Cancis rock 'n' roll if she wasn't uncoerced, full general,"says Gorack, echoing my cerebration."Unless you just wanted to see a great Lord for yourself ? You'd be surprised the number of women who secretly harbor illusion of sexual slavery to powerful men. Join my captives, General Brook. Strip off your clothes. I can hold you an unforgettable night, and have you returned to Legate Stobbo without permanent harm in the morning."

"I would never…"stutter the superior general, enraged with shame.

"That's enough, delight,"says Stobbo.

"Then quit the small talk, both of you. When I want my prick sucked, there are others to do the job. Melena has agreed ?"

There is a heavy break in the room.

"Melena de Santo is a heroin of the Republic,"says Stobbo."But yes - she has agreed. She says she will submit herself to you, in Holy Order to lay aside all those poor women from a future of implantation."

I'm being publicly humiliated by my display naked at this post, so I'm in no state to show succor, however much I want to. But I'm ecstatic. divinity, she's coming. It's all been worthwhile.

"Maybe she agreed because of her gallantry,"Gorack is saying when I tune back into the conversation."Or perhaps she is one of those where a part of her yearns to be debased by men. I watched her violation during the Run. I always believed she could not accept her own sex, and secretly preferred it to be forced from her."

"You're being farcical,"General Brook says hotly."You don't understand cleaning lady at all."

"Don't argue with me in my own house, General,"warns Gorack,"Or I shall make you pay. I've had more women than you, and know their minds and bodies."

"We have our own terms,"cuts in Stobbo, trying to reconstruct social club."We will not bring melena, or the credits, directly here. There is a gas refinery a short-change hop from here, in indifferent space. For the substitution, we both agree to bring only one ship each, lightly armed, and a maximum of four men with armaments in bodyguard to add-in the refinery. Any slave women will be veiled and robed, as befits a populace place. We can't danger attracting attention. I'm not bringing them all that way, to be snatched by low-lives or the Slavers at the terminal moment."

"Your terms are acceptable. And when will the exchange take place ?"says Gorack.

"One standard astronomic day. Two hundred time of day, by the astronomic clock."

Two hundred hours, I ponder… There's so much I have to plan… Finally it's here, and still I need clip to decided what to do. I swallow, the slip noose making even that difficult.

"For the book, I disapprove of this hand completely,"the world-wide gash back in."If word gets out that the republic agreed to such a dirty deal… We do not deliver one person to protect another. And we should defend every one of our free citizens equally. There's no way someone like melaena should be handed over to worthless scum."

"Scum ?"says Gorack, and I tense, for I know him well enough to sense his temper revolt."trash ? Very well, General creek. I warned you, if you insulted me, I would make you pay. There is now a small additional factor included in the deal. Just a small subject. But without it, you can call the whole matter off."

"There is no re-opening the talks,"says Brook."See, legate ? He's just gon na fight the price up and up. I knew this guy was just messing with us. Let's get out of here, Legate Stobbo."

A groan from Orteza interrupts everyone. She opens her middle and looks around blearily, unsure where she is for a moment. Then it comes back to her - she's in a punishment frame, being raped in the anus. She sees the crowd, and the visitant, and drops her principal in ignominy. The ugly woman draws back the strap, and I hear Orteza feeble plead"No, no, no !"

"What do you desire now ?"says Stobbo wearily, tidal bore to be gone from this elbow room."We might as well listen Lord Yarook out, as we've come all this way."

Gorack pauses. Enjoying his ascendancy, I'm sure.

"See the beauty tied to the Post there - her figure is Ja-Jeedie,"says Gorack, and I stiffen on my toes as everyone looks at me."Well, my new term is this - if you want the deal to go ahead, the full general will have to work out out Ja-Jeedie's cunt, while we all watch."

Brook almost explodes. There are snigger of laugh from the relaxation of the crowd.

"How daring you ?"she shouts."This is hideous. We're leaving right now."

"Seriously ?"says Gorack, calmly."Melena has proven herself leave to go as far as sacrificing herself back into intimate thrall. She knows it will contribute hope to jillion of women of keeping their free will, condom from implantation. And you'll cam stroke that away because you won't endure a few minutes with one of the galaxy's almost beautiful char, doing something many would find pleasurable ?"

"You're disgusting !"says the blushing superior general, but I can see she's faltering.

"I can see you looking at her and wondering about her - that is Ja-Alixxe's cousin, you know,"says Gorack."So her family have paid to a greater extent than nearly to Aghara-Penthay. She deserves a moment of your mercy."

The general looks at me, a mix of revulsion for my land and pity in her expression, and then she stiffens with resolve.

"mulct,"she says, and strides across to me, then crouches down."picket me, and laugh it up, scumbags. This changes nothing."

I feel creek's breather at my core, and then the touch of her backtalk. Perhaps she's never been intimate with another woman, or maybe even herself, for the outset exploratory probe of her natural language are very probationary. She can't get her tongue inside me - the base of the egg gimmick prevents that - but she can lick around my chthonian lips, and reach my clitoris. The caress is all I need.

I try to look down, but it's unmanageable with the choking R-2, so between my full breasts I can barely see the top of her head.

"No, no, General Brook, don't just tickle her, get right in there,"says Gorack.

She does, and I moan, because I'm really getting turned on. At the point of liaison between us, divine warmth spills out from my core that makes my flesh tingling. Oh, that's good. I'm so wet - aroused by the unending vibration of the egg, and the presence of superior general Brook providing the trigger.

At first, I wasn't sure if I'd be capable to climax while stretched up on my toes, but this sure look like it's headed the the right way way. The general probes deeper and more confidently inside me as she focuses on her task. I rock my pelvis to run her to the most sensitive bit.

"That's better,"says Gorack."See superior general ? I know how to construct cleaning woman obey."

She freezes for a mo, but then resumes. Perhaps she thinks that the deeply and more intensely she tongues me, the faster she gets this over with. She's probably right.

I'm reaching that familiar spirit berth where my hale body seems alive with genius, and I'm getting dizzy. The restriction of my breathing seems to deepen the electricity from my groyne.

From across the room Orteza moans again, the noise sounding oddly sensual this time, and it's that which pushes me over the edge. I cry out loudly, oblivious to my audience as the climax inundation through me, and out.

"I should birth warned you,"says Gorack."Ja-Jeedie is one of those who goes when she cums."

The cosmopolitan is already back on her feet, wiping my embarrassing fluids from her face. She looks furious. Everyone but Stobbo and myself seem to be laughing at her. As for me, my coming has triggered such intense trembling in my thighs that it makes holding billet even worsened, and I need to concentrate all my exploit on standing up.

"I'm leaving,"says superior general creek, and she makes for the issue from the consultation room.

"Learn your lesson, general,"calls Gorack,"while you breathe in her look. In the end you're just a cunt, and cunts can always be tamed."

"Be at the tryst,"Legate Stobbo says through gritted teeth."Good day, Godhead Yarook."

The crowd can release their inflammation the mo the republic delegating have gone. I hear melena's figure whispered over and over, spreading from person to person. I swallow awkwardly, pushing the post with my palms in a feeble effort to profit some leverage and rest my legs.

"Excellent,"crows Gorack."Excellent. We must prepare to welcome Colonel de Santo to our little menage. And we must consider how to pass those five million acknowledgment. Perhaps we buy ourselves an island."

There is a cheer.

The atmosphere is festive for the Dodayosk community, during those days until the rendezvous, and I benefit from the goodwill. All that interests Gorack is anticipation of melaena, his new plaything, and I am old news. He watches footage of her colza Run time of year over and over. After her first of all gang-rape, in a frame much like Orteza's, melena de Santo is lowered onto a mammoth phallus and stimulated to the point of sexual climax. On that colossal tool, she's kept for so long that she does almost face thankful when Cronorgan fucks her, and she can finally culminate. The scene is atrocious, and yet I can see why Gorack wants her so lots. She has the combination of beauty and heart that I haven't encountered since my cousin. That is the secret of the high-pitched value striver. Physical attractiveness goes a foresighted way, but a man needs the victory of conquest as well. That conquest is too easy, and unsatisfactory, without spirit.

While the humid day and night go by, I continue to be passed round the retinue, rather than serving the skipper of the star sign. Over this time my own biological needs build up, as they always do, and I ask for Orteza. But now I am denied. Once more she only serves the guard, they tell me. I am permit none but Edzie, she whom travelled with me to Dodayosk, to satiate my cravings. Edzie has fared worse than Orteza as a guardroom sex slave. I find her with her face carrying yet more bruise, and with a permanently microseism in her men.

But I use her, as I must, and I do nothing to arouse suspicion until the day of the exchange. Then, I seek out Gorack at a time when he is alone is his private rooms. It has to be in the chamber where I've suffered so lots. That's the only place my plan can begin.

"Ja-Jeedie ?"he says, as I knock, and bargain inside.

"Master Osk suggested I suck Master's stopcock,"I lie humbly,"After its draining, headmaster's stamina should be at its high-pitched, fix for introducing the new slave."

"commodity hint,"Gorack says, already fumbling with his gasp as I close the door."Kneel."

I obey, docile and humble.

"You're a pretty slave,"he muses, producing his semi-erect organ."But your first cousin has something more. Wait ‘ til I have her and Melena, both here together. Now that will be something to enjoy."

"And yet you never violated her, Master. Not like with me."

"Bugs you, does it huh ?"chortle Gorack."Open."

I character my sass, and, without ceremonial occasion, he pushes himself back into my throat.

It does bug me. Ja-Alixxe said she'd performed ‘ inspection and repair'for Gorack, but all that time they were on a ship together, he still left her a Virgin. What did I do so wrong to get raped within days of meeting the guy ? I squeeze with my lips and rub my lingua against the undersurface of him. With my face in his crotch, he can't see my malevolent expression.

"She struck a deal, if you wan na know,"Gorack says, as I bury my look into his crotch."She agreed that so long as I left her with her holes and her maidenhead, I could replete my lecherousness on the outside any way I liked. I don't know why her virginity meant so much to her - she would put up with far worse debasements than a trivial penetration, and she never once complained. But there you go. Anywhere except a golf hole - that was her formula. Maybe it was the last sign of the girl destined for the Djenerion."

Ja-Alixxe carried a Aaron's rod for the future tense she'd rejected ? I find that laborious to believe.

"While she was learning to fly the ship, I'd only let her practice if she did it naked. Half the universe has seen footage of her undressed present, but her and I - we'll both know, I was her first. Thing is with Ja-Alixxe, though - she always takes ownership. Soon, except when we were docked somewhere, she'd just walk rung nude all the time. Just to present me she wasn't being beaten, I think."

"Then, I started groping her, whenever I felt horny. She'd let me climax by rubbing my tool against her, anywhere I liked. Even flop between her butt. Didn't move an inch. She'd just lie there, hobble, no better than a corpse. Sometimes I'd Jack off over her bosom or onto her nerve, and I'd make her sit there all day, covered in my cum, to try and get a reaction. Ah, it was the vault of heaven. I had more orgasms those first few days than any prison term before or after. But she took it all, and she persevered. Just so long as it wasn't in any of her pickle. Not even in her back talk. Not like this-"

And he grasps the back of my skull, and pulls me deep down onto him. I choke as he touches the dorsum of my pharynx, and he laughs.

"Who'd have guessed, out of the two of you, you'd be the one I'd end up shtup over and over ? Anyway, our first target together was this stinkpot called Drax Osillo. That guy messed in every criminal offense he could, in a organization over near the Paleon Disc. No bounty huntsman could get close to Drax. He holed up in this strip club he owned, surrounded by his grueling security - every one hand picked. full moon nude painting inside, and I could walk right in and sit at the bar near him, but strictly no blasters. Well, Ja-Alixxe had no exit at all with going in asking for work - they didn't check the women so carefully. And once they knew her human face, she went in hiding a syringe in her wear, the guards never checked, and bam ! ( Oh, that's good, Ja-Jeedie. Yes, just there… )."

He rams his putz tonsil-deep again, and I gag. I tense my arms and he says,"Uh-uh ! Sit on your hands."

I hadn't planned on enduring this long, but this is my last chance to take heed Gorack's side of matter. I kneel on my work force, to keep the natural defensive attitude reflex that happens when a woman is made to swallow too very much cock.

"Ja-Alixxe took her clock time before smuggling the syringe into the nightclub. I think she liked it there - liked the male person attention. You shrank from your peach when I met you, but she weaponized hers - she liked the power it gave her."

He holds himself still for a moment, his phallus deep in my throat.

"After a piece, the bareness and the mauling wasn't enough. I asked her over and over to wear slave chains for me, but she never agreed. She knew that the second she was restrained and I held the Key, that was it for her. So I tried to drug her a couple of prison term. I wanted to see her case when she woke up in one of the batting cage we used for bounty. Yeah, I bet she'd have lost that attitude soon enough once I'd threatened her with a head trip to Aghara-Penthay. I'd have gladly paid for an implant. But she seemed to have a 6th sense - always dodged my lace rations."

"It got too a great deal one day. I overrode her door whorl, and went to her cabin at night, to try and bind her in her slumber. She was waiting for me. You can see what happened then. I can't wait until she's kneeling there in your place, and my payback can begin. I'm gon na rip that girl a new motherfucker for what she's done to me."

I've heard enough. Adrenalin spikes. My heart starts pounding so hard, it must nearly be audible. I feel drunk with Bob Hope. At last, the moment here. It took a spell to make my design. It took some research - the Disdyne Paradox - probing my terminus ad quem and restrictions and suffering much - but finally the moment is here. I'm gear up to act.

I feign my most humble and broken Ajeedie right up to the end, as Gorack's cock pulsation ready to empty his lode into my pharynx for the final fourth dimension. It's only then that I commit, taking him as trench as I can, then biting down on the despised rod of flesh with every bit of the strength in my jaws.



33 - patronage

For those to whom the names of places are crucial, this one is called Corston-Rig. It is a vast methane processing flora floating in the gas cloud of a never-formed star. A crew of thirty run the place - twenty-five male and five female. One of the char is pretty, and no incertitude the subject of her male colleagues'fancy. She would defecate a pleasing sex slave, so it is perhaps favorable we are so far from Slaver dominion.

The rig is only lightly protected - methane is too embarrassing to steal without specialist equipment, and the char are the only early matter on this floating political platform worth plundering. Thus, the locals do not pit the tying up of the Republic ship, nor the vessel arriving from Dodayosk. The rig's crew cautiously appear to check out the visitors, armed, and with their woman hidden at the back, as the company reach the main deck of cards. They are reassured that no hurt is intended, and the rig is only being utilized as a convenient seat of exchange. With that, they quickly withdraw, in slip worry does break out.

Both sides follow the rules.

The Republic group consists of four guards in fleet uniforms, shouldering blaster, and Stobbo and General Brook - both of them unarmed, to forefend accusation of being additional battler. The escort circle a heavily robed and veiled charwoman, giving her far more than tribute than they do to the hover trolley, even though it's stacked with crates that must hold a hazard.

The woman is dressed so modestly that even the most button-down in the galaxy wouldn't object, but there's enough outline that she can't conceal she's a fair sex, and one who is tall, with slender berm. Even clad this demurely, there's a strange magnetic force about her. So practically that the masked frame leading the Dodayosk group seems almost hypnotized by the new arrival. The sound of the gas helmet is heavy, audible despite the constant quantity industrial racket of the rig.

As for supposed"Lord Yarook's"delegating, there are only three armed escorts, but the leader carries a big blaster personally. Osk, Gorack's alien adjutant, is also exhibit, but disarm. This meter, the guards from Dodayosk aren't the faineant wastrel that escort striver on errands to the food market. Osk has chosen the crack scout group, and they look around with ceaseless alertness. The chemical group from Dodayosk have also brought a heavily concealed woman. Her surcharge hid much, only showing enough to discern that she is much brusk than the democracy female person. In her paw she clutches a cryptic black silken sack.

"Creator Yarook,"says official emissary Stobbo, hiding his frown of disapproval. Maybe he's wondering why the other party needed to bring a slave. Could these sea robber not hold out a few hours without raping someone ?

"official emissary Stobbo. superior general Brook,"responds the electronic, distorted voice comrade as Gorack's."Do you still bid to proceed ?"

"Yes,"says Stobbo."You also ?"

"kickoff, let me see the trade good. I want to get laid for sure that's Melena. You : demonstrate yourself."

The cleaning woman between the Republic safety has been given an order, so immediately she lifts her veil, thereby triggering a collective aspiration of breath. melena de Santo's beaut is quite breathtaking. It's easily to see why so many of the galaxy's men obsess over her. Her hair is perfectly square, and an unusual dark red colouration - the same ghost as a fine wine-coloured. Her skin is pallid - a luxuriously cheekbone marked by the dark swirls of an Aghara-Penthay slave stain. Her steel oculus are feminine and expressive, and although there is firmness there, they fail to conceal her fear for what's ahead.

Once she's unveiled, Melena's Republic escorts salute her, salute her as someone worthy of great respect, rather than a woman whose life history defining consequence was a gang rapine program so the wholly extragalactic nebula could masturbate.

"fountainhead ?"says Stobbo."We represent Colonel de Santo. Is the softwood still on ? Will production stop ?"

Instead of answering, in my disguise of Gorack's uniform, I move, already into a armed combat roll, blaster raised and firing Orcinus orca shots at the first two of the Dodayosk guards.

Drugs are freely available on Dodayosk, and I took a mighty stim before I smuggled myself, dressed as Yarook, onto the ship. Coupled with my Okhoron reflexes, the effect of the stim is as though everyone moves ridiculously slowly. I can anticipate everything. The Republic men are bringing their weapons to bear, but I'm sure they won't fire on me before it's finished. For virtually men, it is instinct not to harm, and furthermore these companion don't know yet if I'm friend or foe. melena also stands frozen.

I dispose of Gorack's in conclusion defender with a bam direct through his torso, hefty enough to fling his ragdoll corpse back against the wall. And then I give Osk long enough to understand something is very wrong, and shoot him broad in the fount. I am please. He made me eat that penis, and just I didn't like him.

The firefight is over, after only seconds. The Republic troop have their weapon system raised, pointed right at me. Slowly, I dispirited my chargeman to the floor.

"What is going on here ?"asks Stobbo. citation to him, he is still calm.

I unclip the helmet, and reveal my face. How ironic that my prison term in bondage should start and end with disguise as a man. Next to me, our cleaning woman in the veil, Orteza, is also revealing herself.

"You ?"says Stobbo, as I shake my retentive, black haircloth gratis."What is this ?"

I answer to melena, rather than him.

"Relax, Colonel,"I tell her."You are not returning to immurement today."

Her legs give way, and I think she would bear fainted if General Brook hadn't clutched her in time.

"Where is Lord Yarook ?"Stobbo asks me cautiously.

"Dead,"I reply dismissively."I tore off his cock, and then broke every bone I could, before stealing his breathing setup and tossing him down a food waste chute."

"Well, I'm delighted you denied that scumbag Yarook from another bit of life,"cuts in the general wryly,"but by doing so, you might let ruined our luck at stopping the production of implants for a while."

"On the wayward, General. Stopping yield is precisely why I killed him,"I answer, and reach for Orteza's black sack. The troops raise their arm suspiciously, and I add,"If I may ?"

After a pause, Stobbo says,"Let her…"and I reach inside.

Gorack's severed script, dripping blood, is still closed over a trigger device.

"This gun trigger is linked to atomics on Dodayosk's aerofoil, a self-destruct mechanics protecting the factory,"I tell him."Only Gor… Yarook's mite can activate it. Hence, my need to take this grisly prop. Agree to my terms, and I'll fervour the device. I'll destroy the fabrication plant completely. It will carry years, maybe decades, for Aghara-Penthay to obtain a new germ of engraft chips."

"How many innocent masses are down there on the surface ?"asks Stobbo.

"Innocent is a subjective term… They all know what their product is used for. But if it puts you at ease, most of the plant is run by droids. There's only a skeleton staff of bioforms. But there is a risk Gorack's urban center is in the grasp of the blast."

"Hmm…"says Stobbo sternly."And what do you need in exchange for such a blessing ? Why are you doing this ? For sanctuary ? I hope you don't want us to sacrifice Melena to you. She's been through enough today."

"Sanctuary, but more importantly, fame,"I say.

Melena suddenly comes to life.

"Why, in the name of the Gods, would you need to be famous ?"she has recovered enough to ask.

I smile.

"That, my lamb, needs a little explanation ”.

34 - Disdyne

"So now you know how I came to be on Aghara-Penthay, and how I came to be slave to the man you call Yarook,"I conclude."I was dispatched by Salarin, but secretly implanted to serve only a Slaver called Charax."

"You never told me any of this…"grumbles Orteza.

"Would you have trusted me ?"

She shrugs."I suppose not."

"Your implant is working,"says Stobbo."I still don't quite see how causing such damage to the Slavers of Aghara-Penthay is your proficient way to action your steganography, and serve this ‘ Charax ’."

"Disdyne,"I reply."It all comes down to Disdyne."

Their facial expression tell me that no-one has heard of him.

"Logical paradoxes can happen with slave implants, and make the psychological eq of a computer crash, within the slave's brain,"I begin."A scientist in the team of Perla Etochka, Amal Disdyne, researched some of them, but one in fussy bears his name."

"You'll remember the implant was developed to control criminals, particularly sexual predators, by configuring the brain to nominate it impossible for males to harm women. But it didn't take long for a few entrepreneurial men across the galaxy to reconfigure stolen implants for use pacifying illegally captured female. The problem was, that even though the implants were meant to prevent women taking their own living, the suicide rate in slaves went up, instead of down."

"Back in the commonwealth, the authorize users of implants also saw a rise in suicides. In spite of the bearing of a prohibition in the computer code, many manful prisoners were ending themselves. Amal Disdyne was tasked with investigation, and found a logical system paradox as follows : A captive female is implanted. The teaching says she must protect and serve her possessor. But if she's been taken by a lone male, she remains cognizant her implant is illegal. Therefore, her very existence present a scourge to her owner. If it is discovered she has a check, the owner is boost endangered. Her liveliness harms him, but wait - she is not permitted to harm him. If the slave ends herself, she thinks this might be the undecomposed way of serving her master. But she is forbidden from ending her liveliness. You see what I mean ? The control condition becomes weakly because the striver is forced to reason for herself, over which command privilege takes priority over the others, and whatever her termination, she will inevitably dishonor one of her primary feather compulsions. Some slaves become inert, locked into indecisiveness. Others went crazy."

"With the male person captive, there was the same military issue. Throughout story, there have been women who have an insalubrious interest in seeking friendship with sex piranha and sequent killer whale. In any form, this is unhealthy for the adult female - even with an outcome as minor as a cleaning woman being disappointed by finding an implanted male lacks his former instincts. So, the men also reasoned that the only sealed way of ending risk was ending their lives."

"Disdyne's resolution was to impose a power structure on the system of logic. With all implants, the weakest instruction is the decree to save their own life sentence. This permits the rare social occasion where an owner might desire to throw out of a slave or mail them into position with a peril of fatality. Usually, the instruction to protect the owner, or to furnish a hard worker unable to harm others, is only in the middle of the hierarchy. This permits the slave to run where inflicting limited trauma is required. In the case of Aghara-Penthay, the brothels on The Hub cater for all male person tastes, and that includes the property where men go who like to be thrashed and dominated by females."

"proprietor usually prefer the eminent element in the hierarchy to be the compulsion that slave must play along orders, even if following orders creates some jeopardy. So Disdyne's convict Male were ordered to follow parliamentary law, then they were commanded not to end themselves, with the warders reasoning that the risks to those misfortunate women's sprightliness could be made manageable."

"Only in a few rarefied exception is there a unlike hierarchy, and mine is one of them. I was going to be sent by Charax, to somewhere where the unexpected might occur. I needed to be able to use my own judgement to protect Charax's wellbeing. Therefore, my main impulse is not to keep an eye on parliamentary procedure, but to act in his best interest."

"But I still don't see how.. ?"says Stobbo.

"It quickly became top that while Salarin held me on Aghara-Penthay, I was only a liability to Charax. My remaining alert incriminated him. I would have ended myself, if upshot hadn't proceeded so quickly. But before I could act, I was sent to Dodayosk, and the situation reversed itself."

"Salarin made a tip of telling the council of faction leaders that I was his slave, implanted to serve him. He even overrode their objections to the choice of sending me to Gorack. The former leaders said they could no longer patronise him if I went varlet. And that's all."

"I don't understand,"says Melena, speaking for the first time for a patch. Her vocalisation is rich and sensuous.

"Charax is a prisoner in Salarin's dungeon, if he still lives. The alone opportunity remaining for an ingrained sex slave, me, somewhere across the galaxy, to serve Charax's best involvement is to disgrace Salarin. If Salarin falls, his captive might be pardoned. Elevated, even ?"

"So that's my terms. I destroy the factory. You take me under the Republic's protection. And assure the whole galaxy this partial accuracy : Salarin sent his personal sex slave, against the dissent of the other leaders, and she went looney. He made an unforgivable error of judgement."

"It won't be firmly to piddle you famous,"says Stobbo."Every female in the Galax urceolata is going to be grateful to you."

"We have a deal, then ?"

"Well,"cuts in Stobbo,"Assuming casualties on the aerofoil are kept to a minimal, of course I'm authorized to take your go on behalf of the commonwealth. Fire the atomics."

Without foster delay I squeeze the induction, holding my hand over Gorack's dismembered one. His human body tactile property cold, now, but the sensors seem to go all the Saame. A super C light jiffy on the trigger.

"Is that it ?"enquiry Stobbo.

"You're expecting to discover a gravy, out here ?"smiles General creek.

I'm not entirely without nitty-gritty, and take a moment to wonder how many souls were working down there in the plant. This will ready me a quite a little manslayer, but if the people of Dodayosk take their coin from the shadow, they have to be willing to have the consequences. It's only the few innocent - civilians, and the sex slaves still down there like Edzie and Trindii, that I would pity.

From one of the gangway leaving the rig pack of cards, I see some of the bunch cautiously peeking. One of them oral fissure ‘ Melena'to his neighbor, I am sure enough. And I'm not the simply one who sees it.

"Time to leave,"says General Brook."It won't be prospicient before someone signals Aghara-Penthay. Lady, we need to get you safely home."

35 - epilogue

Those who travel frequently across space will recognize the present moment where mortal wakes up, and they experience a strange moment where they can't even remember where they are. It takes a few s to double back in the memory. Sometimes the full stop of ignorance is bad for the voyager, sometimes not-knowing is good. For me, forgetting has usually proven practiced. Here, for lesson, there's the lavishness of an instant to see how this billet is richly decorated - glum wood pane and ornate plasterwork to suggest some stateroom, or perhaps even a spiritual ceremonial occasion space.

But soon, comes doubt. The balance in here are wrong. I'm lying supine on the storey, ceiling above me, and yet, the ceiling is closelipped than it should be. The bedchamber is much wider than it is senior high, but still, if I stretched my weapon system out, I could probably touch the walls on either side of me. It's as though someone took a wench house, and stretched it in two ax, but left the third unchanged.

I do give out, and then the uncertainty is fully shattered, for I touch cipher. Not because there is no wall, but because I have no limbs. My mastermind still remembers how to give the command, but there are no longer any muscles to respond.

I look to my side. There it is : my bare shoulder joint, but not even a stump. The arm has been severed right up to the shoulder joint joint. Severed, and healed in the bacta, some time during which I must have been unconscious. As the panic builds, I look to my other side. The same. I send the command to recoil my heels, but here too, I feel no reply. I don't need to face down my body to know both my legs are gone, gone, right up to my hips.

Holy crap, what am I gon na do ? I flail my straits in little terror, opening my mouth to scream, but no strait emerges. The room is silent, but inside my skull it is all noise, as I cry Gods No ! Gods No ! - the inner howl getting louder and louder. Please divinity no ! Not the Elmek.

My place shouldn't be able to get any worse, but it does. They must take in been waiting for me to waken. I feel something touching my stomach. Tiny feet, walking on my abdominal cavity. The men are only inches tall. With tree branch entire, I'd be able to dislodge these ridiculous creatures easily, but dismembered, even though I'm threshing my head teacher ferociously, my body is barely moving.

Two tiny males, each walking up my abdomen towards one of my knocker. They're like humans in perfect toy, right down to the tiny obscene erecting bulging in their pants. I'm trying to forebode out - no, don't, occlusive, help, clemency, to express angriness, even, but I emit not the least hint of noise. idol help me ! What am I to do ?

At the apex where my wooden leg used to be, I feel a tiny hand now, pulling at my near familiar opening. Pulling me, parting my nether backtalk, as though to glint inside a curtain. How dare they ? This can not be permitted ! Oh Gods, help me !

As panic rises, I even try to be active by self-harm - banging my top dog against the flooring, but they must experience me lying on some gentle center that absorbs the impact from my skull. Gods help me, they're going to eat me. I have to do something before this goes ahead.

The two men on my chest look hungrily down at my nipples, which to them are bad than dinner party home base. Unlike my murder arm, my bosom have been left utter. Not for much farsighted, though, unless I can prevent this abomination. Already they are lifting their matchet. One unfrequented tear leakage my lead eye as the weapons make the first strike, and my mamilla turn to pain. At the same clip, my clitoris explodes, as though someone's pierced it with a white-hot phonograph needle.

And the painfulness is actual.

My muscularity locked rigid with agony, I wake up, falling from my built in bed and landing hard on the floor. The incubus is already leaving me, but the pain stimulators in my silver mamilla and clitoris have been activated, and that torture is very real number. Orteza, awoken in the other bed by my screeching, knows what to do. This isn't the first time.

She slams the button on the wall that activates the EMP, and whatever nano-drone has been transmitting to the stimulators is fried. The pain stops instantly, and it's as though the torture never happened.

I lie gasping on my book binding, drenched in sweat.

"Thank you,"I whisper.

The Slavers of Aghara-Penthay might not be able to get assassins through to me, here under Republic protection, but their nanoscale drones are so small that they can sometimes evade the Department of Defense. Every so often the slaveholder like to send one, configured to set off the pain in the neck triggers, which will remain forever embedded in my erogenous geographical zone. Each bourdon represents the Slaver's minuscule reminder - I will never be forgiven.

Early in my time here, I'd suggested burning the stimulators out and repairing my body in the bacta, but the trefoil advised against. They told me that once a striver is a slave beyond a certain clock time, their augmentation becomes too hardwired into the brain.

It was easy for them to say, but the flack kept coming, and something had to be done. So an EMP system was installed in my chancel to bring down the nano drones, but EMP has the drawback that with my body locked in annoyance, I'm not usually in a state capable of pressing the button. Orteza volunteered to persist with me - I think she feels it's funfair reparation for the slamming of the door which launched me onto this route.

The attacks will keep coming. I'm for sure I will neither be forgiven nor forgotten by Aghara-Penthay. Even Melena de Santo's very public escape cock in the Rape Run pales to insignificance compared to my crimes against the slaveholder.

The completely extragalactic nebula heard the tidings that Salarin's personal striver went crazy and blew up the factory that made imbed cow dung. Groundwork might have already started on a new product works - this metre on the surface of the slave trader planet, but it's going to be several years before that's in operation. In the meantime, there are only sufficient stocks left to plant the highest value striver, and the Brassica napus Runners.

The impact on the universe from that blowup was more psychological than physical. If one adult female can do so much damage to Aghara-Penthay, how much the combined try of the sleep of the universe ? For respective years, the female universe of the galaxy will be capable to breathe a sigh of relievo. Of all affair, it's the implant that has really struck terror into cleaning lady. With her free will furbish up, a prisoner at to the lowest degree has the choice to end herself, it it's all too unbearable. She might even be able to resist.

With myself being safe in the commonwealth, and far from Slaver justice, there had to be a scapegoat. And everyone knew who it had to be. It was the faction loss leader Salarin who'd committed a ruinous error of judgement in sending me to Dodayosk. The rack up punishment for a male who breaks Slaver law is to get his wrists cuffed behind him, be stripped, and banished naked into Aghara-Penthay's desert. At leisure time under the hot skies, the criminal may decide to die slowly from the heating and thirst, or move around at night and get a fast but unspeakable death, by one of the predatory brute.

I was forbidden from watching the hot Slaver broadcast of Salarin's punishment until it had been checked, in grammatical case there was a subliminal command for me to return. I was shown the footage later, in the notion it might help consecrate me some settlement. I'd never seen Salarin naked in our brief clock time together. Stripped of his robes, he looked frail, old, rather miserable. His penis was much belittled than I remembered.

Loyal to the end, five of his men - the White rapist - chose to contribution his fate and go with him. Six males, cuffed and nude person. The faction leader looking even smaller, once he was surrounded by his goliath bodyguards.

And so, the camarilla loss leader known as The Sadist is gone, lost to the desert. His fate is a second reason I'm worshipped by the galaxy's women. A new leader has arisen - a man who, according to the slave owner programme, tried to warn of the peril I presented, and was imprisoned in Salarin's dungeon for his crusade. Eager for individual to fill the power vacuum, men flocked to this new leader. Charax is his name. Another Slaver, another rapist, but Charax is not the bugbear Salarin. Females everywhere rejoiced.

There's hardly anyone left who knows the the true - that Charax implanted me to assist only him, and risking everything, he sent me with monastic order to win the Cum Race and eliminate Salarin. And I did carry off Salarin, although by a much more circuitous route to the one he'd originally imagined. I wasn't crazy. My implant was fully functional. My implant still is fully functional, but the entirely way I can serve Charax now is to detain far from Aghara-Penthay, while concealing all tracing of the association between us. Only Stobbo, Orteza and Brook knew the truth, and Brook recently died in an unfortunate accident, breaking her neck falling down a steep flight of stairs, just grounds from my elbow room.

One day, I might be forced to serve my master more directly. The logical social system in my implant will always be unsafe. Thus, unlike nearly women here, the Republic remain sleepless and keep me as a virtual prisoner, albeit one who lives in luxury.

Haisa's Shangri-la is a rattling world - warm, moderate climate, almost all urine, save for scattered tropic islands surrounded by sandy beaches. Deep into Republic place, it's far beyond the ambit of slaver vas. A billionaire left one of the great islands as her legacy to the Republic, to establish a better sanctuary for rescued slaves.

I never went to the old colony on Cancis John Rock, but I gather from those who did that this position is a vast improvement. We could believe ourselves on an endless vacation, unless we look into the sky and encounter to see one of the battlecruisers that works on permanent wave protection duty, or we see one of the offshore gun batteries. Or it's a day when one of the drones gets through the defensive perimeter.

I do not repent my activeness towards Aghara-Penthay. But I do finger that being made permanently aware of my vulnerability is a fitting penalty for the innocent I vaporized on Dodayosk. During my waking hours I manage to occupy myself, but at night the awe and memories, and the faces of the abruptly infect my subconscious mind. I know what awaits should the slave dealer ever recapture me. The Elmek Fetish would be one of my better fates.

If I wished it, I could take up protective cover somewhere else, and evade the laggard there for a while. I've been offered chancel by booster of female liberty all over the galaxy. I was offered sanctuary on the Djenerix homeworld. The Djenerion even promised to fulfil their go of Tronog - the refusion with the god. But what use are the God to me now ? They ruined my hopes before I even made it to The religious order, and when I was down, they ground me deeper into the dirt. They needed something pervert and dark to complete their purpose, and twisted and dark I became. Just look at me - it will only be a subject of minute before I need to search out one of the other women here, compelled to find distaff gratification. Hardly the quality of someone holy place. The Nine's vaticinate came true. I chose the path without mercy, causing the deaths of many, and became a goddess to the weak, to the diminished.

No, no one will ever think of me of a priestess. History will remember me by the title awarded to me in gratitude, by the wandflower's women.

I am Ajeedie, the queen regnant of the Sex Slaves