DiamondStar IV

            Nysia laid back on her bed and watched the pristine, white planet below as she touched herself.  She ran her fingers slowly along her hairless folds, opening herself in front of the window to see her own glistening sex reflected back imperfectly, and panted, smiling, as she thrust the dildo into herself with a moist sucking sound. 

            The slim object, half again as long as her hand and wider than two fingers, was made of pure diamond – the only export of the planet, and Nysia had cut this one herself in senior shop class last year.  The snow-covered world below had once been the core of a gas giant.  Tremendous pressures had forced carbon to its richest form, until a supernova detonated only a light year away and blasted nearly the entire atmosphere away from the precious core.  Although it was unique in the galaxy, DiamondStar IV could have destroyed the market value of its namesake with overabundance if it weren’t dismally distant from Earth and surrounded by a dangerous field of debris scattered by the supernova. 

            All of which, of course, was not going through Nysia’s mind.  She was thinking of her boyfriend, the miner who had given Nysia the fragment that currently thrust tightly into her wetness.  She pictured Radley’s hands touching the body reflected in the window: his fingers running through the long, straight brown hair that fell in a curtain behind her as she leaned back, his hands on her small, freckled breasts or encircling her tiny waist, spreading her long legs to slip into her mound.  She shaved it regularly – had just done so minutes before in the shower – because he’d once suggested that turned him on; she didn’t really know, of course, as he’d never gotten that far.  She hoped he’d push a little further towards that tonight, however, as he was back aboard the station on one of his infrequent trips home from planetside. 

            Nysia fantasized about tonight: oh god, I hope he’s demanding, she thought – she herself was far too proper to initiate anything, but she was going to have to do something drastic if Radley didn’t become a bit more insistent with her.  Maybe he would shove her into a side corridor on their date, pushing her against the wall and thrusting his tongue into her mouth…he’d done that once, on his last break.  This time he would pin her arms back, so she couldn’t protest as she ought to – so she’d just have to let him do as he wanted with her!  His other hand would roam her body, sliding under her shirt to touch her dark nipples or maybe going lower and – finally! – discovering she was shaved.  It would turn him on so much – he’d have to take her right there.  She’d protest, of course, as any decent girl has to:  Oh no, Radley, not until the ceremony!  We aren’t allowed, and oh my, what if my father found out?  He’d pay her no heed, however, and push her to the ground – he was so strong, she really couldn’t do anything about that, after all, and his mouth would keep hers much too muffled for a proper scream.  No, she’d just have to accept him, maybe help just a bit to move things along – it would be inevitable, of course, so she would have to make the most of it.  She’d reach down and slip out of her tiny skirt and panties (she’d been regularly shortening the length of her dresses to give Radley the hint, but he hadn’t caught on and the shortening had gone on for quite some time…by this point most of Nysia’s wardrobe revealed the lower curves of her tight bottom even when she stood still).  She’d release him too – what would he look like?  Would his tool be as long as the ones on the videos her parents hid from her?  He’d be more polite than the nameless men in the video, however, and not attempt to use her mouth (ugh!), but would thrust right away into her sex, which would of course be as sopping wet as it was now, with the diamond shard rapidly pounding deep and rubbing her clit with a ridge she’d put on just for that purpose.  As Nysia fantasized about Radley climaxing (he would pull out and spray his seed across her, she knew from the videos) she felt the first shudders of orgasm.  She arched her back, screaming in ecstasy (thank god for heavily insulated and sealed partitioning!) and finally, collapsing, let the dildo slide from her and drop to the covers.  She looked one last time at her reflection in the glass, spread out across the bed with her legs widely spread, her hair fanned out and her pale face flushed with excitement.  I should do that again, she thought, and then motion behind her reflection, outside the window, caught her attention.

            A cruiser, painted a dark, unreflective grey to be unnoticeable as it approached, was only a few clicks from the station – dangerously close in the terms of spatial navigation.  There was a flash from its prow, and Nysia watched in confusion as four pinpoints of light drifted silently, almost lazily, from the vessel towards the lower decks of the station where the loading docks and shuttle bays resided.  They passed out of her view, too close to the station’s side to see at any angle, and Nysia turned her gaze to the ship once more.  It was even closer now, and she had time to notice three smaller craft break away from the cylindrical ship before the first blast threw her off the bed.  She landed hard on her floor, her breath knocked out of her lungs, and struggled to rise as a second, lesser shockwave vibrated through the decking.  On the third blast the artificial gravity gave out, and she floated off the surface, her ears ringing with a sudden alarm.  Sure, it goes off when we lose gravity, but not when the thing fires on us!  As the thought raced through her head a final explosion shook the station like a child’s toy, suddenly shifting everything several feet to the side.  Nysia, suspended midair, didn’t gain the same momentum, and she barely had time to scream before the metal panel slammed against her and everything went dark. 

            To Major Jillian Travis, the battle was disappointingly short.  Her shuttle had taken only a couple minor hits from lasers that were obviously intended primarily as defense against minor debris, not military forces.  At a hundred meters the doors had opened, and with a quick burn she had entered empty space.  The acceleration felt like being punched all over all at once, and it gave a thrill that made her cunt wet.  Even in free flight, the most vulnerable part of an assault, there hadn’t been any real resistance.  The only marine who’d bought it had been stupid enough to drift into the trajectory of their own support artillery, which was scheduled to burn an entry hole just as they landed on the station’s surface.  Dying to your own guns was pretty damn moronic, and the crew was probably better off with Kennedy dead, but she sighed with regret anyways: the guy had been hung like a horse.   

            Once they were inside the structure, the battle was even more hopeless for the defenders.  Only one small pocket of resistance had gained access to weaponry of their own: it was later discovered that nearly all the small arms were kept in the command module, which of course was the first thing destroyed in the initial missile barrage.  Otherwise, the braver members of the station’s crew tried to attack with pieces of debris, tools, or other improvised devices – all of which accomplished laughably little against marine assault armor, even stuff as old and abused as Travis’.  Being on the wrong end of a revolution had a bad impact on supply. 

            They tried not to kill any more than was necessary.  Travis only switched her ion rifle to deadly levels to dispatch those already seriously wounded by the initial barrage: crew that were half crushed, irradiated, or otherwise beyond anything but major surgery.  The rest received only a light blast: enough to keep them down while they were chained up and transported to a central holding area, but not enough to do any real harm.  All in all, it was rather routine business that left her frustrated and unsatisfied.

            It was with that frustration on her mind that Jillian opened the door to reveal a naked girl floating limp and unconscious. 

            Not just any girl, either; in another place she would have been a vid model, her tits and ass broadcast across the Alliance in super-pixellated three-D for every civilized person to jack off to.  She was in her late teens, with very long, straight brown hair.  Her skin was pale and covered from head to toe in a light spatter of freckles – even on her breasts, which were just small enough not to float unappealingly in zero G.  Looking her over, Travis had to laugh – the bitch was even shaved from the neck down, pure porn vid material.  “Oh fuck yeah,” she chuckled, the wetness returning between her legs, “we got a live one here.” 

            Travis flashed a signal to her marines: Staying here, move on.  Totally against protocol, of course, but then discipline had been outbound ever since the rest of the fleet was turned into shrapnel off Faragon X.  Her subordinates glanced past her, saw a bit of nude flesh, shrugged and moved on. 

            Nysia awoke with a panic, feeling as though she were falling, before remembering there was no gravity.  It took another moment to remember the attack, and then finally she looked up to see the abomination in the room with her.

            The humanoid shape was nearly eight feet tall.  It was encased in armor, dull grey plating that was dotted with faded scorch marks.  The visor was black, and reflected back like a mirror, showing Nysia suspended and very naked.  Oh god, no – I can’t be seen like this!  Whatever will they think of me?  She blushed from head to toe, and realized with an even deeper blush that the figure could see the whole effect.  She quickly covered herself with her hands – goodness, I’m still soaking down there!  Or am I even more so, and how on earth could that happen? – and waited for the intruder to turn away politely. 

            For a long moment, they simply stared at each other.  Oh no, we’ve been invaded by something that’s terribly rude, too, Nysia thought, and her voice cracked as she spoke: “Would you mind terribly giving me a moment to dress?  You really-”   Here eyes widened as the intruder’s arm raised, lifting a massive weapon nearly as large as Nysia.  Sweet Heaven, I’m going to die naked!  The gun flashed, a harsh white burst that drowned everything out like an overexposed photo, and Nysia felt her heart skip a beat.  It missed!  She thought, and dove for her closet. 

            Or attempted to.  Her body seemed to have stopped responding, although she felt no pain.  The intruder lumbered forward – how come he can walk and I can’t? – and its other hand reached out to grasp Nysia’s neck and pin her to the wall.  A mechanical whirring sound came from the underside of the arm, and in the visor Nysia saw a metal collar wrap around her neck.  A harsh blue light flashed and the band was soldered in place permanently.  The intruder stepped back, hand still pinning Nysia to the wall, and several latches flipped open with a hiss of pressure release.  Oh no, he’s getting out of that thing, and why can I only think of my fantasy with Radley?  He can’t rape me, oh please, that sort of thing doesn’t really happen to proper girls! 

            When the visor retracted, however, she exhaled with relief.  It wasn’t only quite human, but a woman!  A rather scary one, however, with silver rings piercing her nose and eyebrows, and dozens more in her ears.  Poor girl, without those she’d be fairly darling, with a small nose, bright green eyes and short black hair.  As the woman stepped out of the grey armor her body was revealed to be intensely athletic: her belly muscles were defined, her breasts almost non existent, and not a bit of fat anywhere to be seen.  She was also revealed to be extremely naked beneath the armor.  More rings dotted the rest of her body: her nipples and navel bore piercings, and several more flashed between her legs.  Long wires from the now-empty suit of armor connected to the woman’s neck, while it continued to rest securely on the floor with a fist pinning Nysia to the wall.  The woman reached out and brushed Nysia’s arms aside – why on earth can’t I move those at all? – and a hand stroked her sex, feeling inside with a finger.

            The woman grinned.  “Welcome to wakey, little girl.  I see you’re quite excited to see me!  How did you ever end up in this position?  Half naked and wet – was someone being naughty?  Well, I hope you brought enough to share, ‘cause I assure you that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.”

            The look of disbelief on the tart’s face was just classic, Jillian thought.  She’s really got no idea what’s in store for her.  But fuck, for all that the bitch is dripping all over the place.

            She withdrew her fingers and licked them, savoring the taste of a clean, virgin cunt while looking into her prisoner’s eyes, which were wide with astonishment and incomprehension.  With a wicked grin, she bent down and licked at each dark nipple, then bit down on them – hard enough to make the girl scream, if she could.  In the after effects of the ion blast, she only broke out in a light sweat.  Jillian continued lower, kissing across the girl’s stomach and navel; she tasted the delicious, salty drops of perspiration with light, darting flicks of her tongue. 

            Finally, on her knees, she came to the mons and paused to look.  It had been shaved recently; the skin felt like silk beneath her fingers.  The clit was large, and excited; she teased it with a finger, then shoved into the cunt with her other hand.   She thrust quickly, frigging the girl with two, then three digits.  She wrapped her legs around the girl’s calves to keep herself in place despite the lack of gravity, and pushed harder, pounding into the delicious bitch’s sex. 

            The Major glanced around the room as she played, looking for something to use on her new fucktoy’s hole, and saw a piece of plastic or glass floating nearby that would serve.  She grabbed it, and looked it over, disappointed there were no sharp edges that would cut.  Then she did a double take, peering through it, and lifted it to her nose.

            “Holy fuck, freckles, you have got to be shitting me.  You were fucking yourself with a piece of ice large enough to buy a city?  This is just too good.  Well, if that’s what it’s for, it better go in, eh?”  She laughed as she unceremoniously jammed the thing in deep, fucking her brutally.  Despite the lubrication, the slickness turned red under the bludgeoning.

            The girl started panting, and shuddered slightly beneath Jillian’s hands.  She laughed darkly, then pulled away the shard and leaned forward to wrap her lips around the girl’s clit.  She sucked on it, and wiggled her tongue against the tip, tasting blood and sex…then bit down hard enough to draw blood.  The little whore actually managed to whine, which was saying a lot that soon after an ion blast.  Tears drifted from her eyes. 

            “Oh no bitch, this isn’t for your fun.  If you get to cum, I’ll let you know.  Now, it’s time for my turn.”

            Jillian pushed lightly off the floor, rising until she could reach out to touch the ceiling, stopping her motion.  Another slight push and she settled onto the armor’s outstretched arm like a seat, and locked her legs under the girl’s arms.  Her knees spread wide, and her own cunt was displayed inches from the captive’s full, pouting lips.  Jillian reached down and slipped the diamond into herself as she played with her rings.  A dozen of them pierced her nether lips, which had once been used to lock it shut when she was a rookie – nothing dissuaded brutally insistent overtures like a locked orifice.  These days she didn’t bother; her marines knew she’d kill them if they tried any of that shit.  Just above her slit was a tiny patch of black hair, shaved short and shaped like a spade.  Cliché, but that’s what the military was about: luck, bravado, and tradition. 

            She spent a while playing with her piercings, pulling them tightly as she fucked herself silly, moaning in pleasure and arching her back rigidly.  Only when she was nearing her climax, and she leaned forward to get a deeper thrust, did she notice her captive was recovered and struggling to pry the titanium fingers from her collared throat. 

            “You’re moving just in time, bitch.  You better do wonders with that tongue or I’ll crush your fucking throat.”  She slid her hips forward, pushing her cunt into the girl’s face, feeling her open her mouth to protest only to have it filled with flesh and cream.  With a mental command down the wire, Jillian clenched the armor’s fist, almost strangling the girl and coming near to breaking the fine bones.

            The girl’s tongue slid into her cunt, brushed past steel and fastened on her clit.  Jillian bucked her hips and laughed as she came.  For several moments, she continued to rub against the girl’s face, enjoying a series of smaller orgasms.  By that time the prisoner had passed out, unable to inhale; when released, however, she was still breathing.

            Major Travis sighed and stretched in the zero G.  “Time to get back to work I suppose.  At least, lucky me, I get to smuggle out a bit of loot of my own, and make the rest of this farce a bit more enjoyable!”  She slowly slipped the diamond back into her cunt before returning to her armored suit.  Inside, resealed and fully encased in cushions and electronics, she ground her pubic mound against the interior and shuddered with the fullness. 

            “Oh yeah…you are so a keeper, freckles.” 

            Nysia and Lisa spent a total of three days in the slave quarters.

            There was very little to do; once every day, shortly after the lights brightened in morning, a member of the crew entered the room and led the women through a long series of exercises.  The instructor introduced herself as Kelsey, and she came in alone, unarmed, and even stripped off her top to lead the class in a tiny black sports bra and the baggy grey military pants and polished black boots all the crew wore.  Nysia was shocked until she learned that any refusal or resistance would result in the entire group being punished; Maxine and her cohort took sadistic joy ensuring that didn’t happen.  When one of the women slowed down, or seemed on the brink of refusing, it was fellow slaves that cussed, threatened, and beat until the exercises continued.  By the end of every session they were left dripping with sweat and exhausted; but at least, for a couple hours, the monotony was interrupted. 

            They were made to stretch impossibly far; many of the slaves could do the splits and Nysia learned that when enough force was applied, she could as well, although she howled with the pain.  They thrust their hips and clenched muscles in their sex Nysia never knew she had.  They ran in cicles, even her small breasts jiggling while others’ swung pendulously.  They practiced a long series of contorted positions, each meant to give access to an orifice in some new, horrid way.  Lisa, who had been a gymnast in school, managed most of the postures with little difficulty – Nysia would have felt envy, but she was too busy distracted with darker thoughts.  Looking at the sheen of sweat covering her friend’s body, Nysia couldn’t push away the memory of kneeling over her mouth like a toilet, or the beautiful way Lisa’s body gleamed when soaked with urine, or how her piss-dampened hair had clung to her face very much like it did now.  Why can’t I get that moment out of my mind?  Did I really enjoy it, like she said?  Why do I want it to happen again so badly? 

            For indeed she did – every time Lisa was ordered about, and her chin rose in haughty condescension, Nysia felt her heart flutter with the hope the resistance would push too far, that there would be another round of punishment.  I would have to help with it – really, it’d be a kindness, to have a friend do it compassionately.  But then, I don’t want to be compassionate; I want to see her struggle and fight, I want to feel her humiliation between my legs, I love her dearly but I want to hurt her so badly!  This is all so confusing…!  Was this how that pierced pirate felt, how man behind me in the assembly felt?  And if so, can I hate them at all, can I do anything but agree that yes, I should be used against my will, forced, humiliated, raped, just as I want to do to Lisa?  Maybe I’m not a proper girl at all, and everyone knew but me, and that’s why I’m not drinking wine in silken gowns with my witty captors? 

            After the exercises they were left to themselves, and Nysia struggled to push her confusion aside to speak with Lisa.  She asked after the tattoos, whose every movement was beautiful and hypnotic.  For a while, Lisa seemed inclined to refuse to answer, but after a long pause in conversation she spoke of them.  She’d gotten her first on her navel when she was 15; she’d designed it herself, and a medical droid had needled it.  It had been a secret to revel in, something no one knew about her – truly her private place.  “Now everyone can see my secrets; it’s mortifying.”  Only in the last year, with school and gymnastics behind her, had she done the work on her throat and wrists.  “No one knew.  Not even my parents!  I kept looking for someone worth sharing them with, some boy or…well, someone.  But nobody was quite right.”  Or…girl?  Nysia wondered.  There had been rumors, for a while, that Lisa was that way, but nothing was ever confirmed – as far as Nysia knew, Lisa had never even kissed anyone.  When pressed, Lisa agreed.  “Like I said…no one seemed quite right.  And now…well, now my secrets are worth nothing, and I wish I would only be called upon for kisses.” 

            For the time being, however, the new arrivals weren’t called on for anything.  The other slaves weren’t so lucky; in the evening, shortly after the overhead sprinklers had delivered a hard, cold shower throughout the room, they began to be hauled off in small groups to entertain the crew.  Hours later they would return, bruised, disheveled and spattered with cum.  Maxine, whenever she returned, would send her friends to haul Lisa over and force her to her knees.  They pulled back the blond hair and forced Lisa’s mouth to the red curls and soiled sex, and abuse her breasts and nipples until she’d sucked and licked every drop of spent seed; sometimes Maxine turned around and Lisa was made to clean her backside as well, if the crewman had chosen to use that entrance.  “You’d better learn fast, miss,” Maxine had said the first time it happened, “to get that rebellion out of your eyes, or you won’t last long.”  Still, somehow, Lisa seemed to look down upon the others even as she was abased and made to serve in the most horrid ways. 

            For her part, Nysia couldn’t control herself during the punishments.  As her comrade was beaten and molested, her sex grew wetter; while watching Lisa’s tongue work deep within a pussy or anus, she had to reach down to touch herself, pretending it was she being served.  The more Lisa was degraded the more turned on Nysia became, until she was frigging herself the instant the other slaves laid hold of her companion.  The first time Maxine noticed this behavior, she’d simply laughed and winked; from then on, the redhead made an effort to always keep Lisa turned away from her would-be ally, and Lisa never realized her abuse was a spectacle to her friend.  Afterwards, Nysia would offer comfort even as she shivered with the last waves of orgasm from delight with the suffering. 

            Truly, I’m no sort of friend at all.

            The third night aboard ship was poker night.  What this meant, neither of the two girls could find out; the others spoke of it almost with resentment.  Finally, during the afternoon of that day, one of Maxine’s henchwomen told Nysia.  Lisa was in the center of the room, lapping the crack of Maxine’s bottom clean in long, deliberate strokes of her tongue, pinned down and oblivious to the world.  Nysia and the slave were reclined on their elbows; both had just masturbated, and shared quiet conversation as they watched, recovering for another effort -- and Lisa thinks I’m being held down myself so I can’t rush to her aid, not chatting amiably with her oppressors. 

            “When we get new slaves, some are set aside for the officers,” the woman explained idly, “generally the young and pretty ones, which is why everyone hates you for it.  From what I hear, I’d rather stay down here – there are worse things than a whore.” 

            “But…” she struggled with what that comment seemed to imply.   “Why poker?”

            “Apparently that’s how they sort out who gets who.  Lots of gambling, both money and flesh; whoever wins you, owns you.” 

            Nysia tried to imagine what would happen, and failed; she began to form another question about what was in store, but then Lisa began to scream.  Nysia’s sex flooded and her fingers moved quickly, and poker was entirely forgotten. 

            After Maxine finished, Nysia told her exhausted friend what she’d learned.  Lisa was too tired to even wonder how such a conversation had taken place as her ally struggled to help her; she just sighed and shrugged.  “At least we’ll be out of here.  We knew something like this was going to happen.  No dandy officer could be worse than that bitch Maxine.”

            Later, when the showers started, they rubbed each other clean and afterwards did their best to comb out each others’ hair with their nails, although it wasn’t entirely clear why they should want to look nice for their own auction.  As she says, Nysia thought, any officer would be better than this.  Who knows – maybe we’ll end up in silk yet! 

            That evening, along with the veteran slaves, several of the new girls were called to service.  Nysia winced when Annalise Carlson was one of the first, and walked grimly to her task.  Poor darling…she’s about to be raped yet again.  But only a few minutes later a dozen troops in crisp, starched uniforms entered and read off six names: both Lisa and Nysia were on the list.  And, I suppose, so are we.

            They rose to walk towards the revolutionaries; but Lisa pulled her companion back for a moment, and turned to face her.  She leaned forward suddenly, and her lips touched Nysia’s; they were soft, and despite everything they tasted sweet.  So did her tongue, when it twined around her friend’s in a deep, sensual kiss.  Lisa pulled their bodies close, giving no chance to pull away, and their bodies and breasts pressed together.  When they broke the kiss, Lisa smiled.  “I wanted my first one to be with you.  Whatever happens…whatever we have to do…you’ve been a great friend; I love you Nys’.” 

            Nysia hugged her friend, and felt excited and sick all at once.  Then hands grabbed them, attached leashes to their collars and pulled them like animals from the slave quarters. 

To be continued:  Comments, suggestions, and ideas for inclusion are encouraged at ElectricBadgerAccessories@yahoo.com.

Chapter VIII – Helping Lisa

            With the new implants installed, Nysia began to participate in life aboard the ship.  It wasn’t much, but after weeks in a single room it felt like a new world; and perhaps, after the changes she’d gone through herself, it was. 

            This morning began like most others.  Mistress’ alarm sounded early, long before most on the ship were awake, and Nysia rolled to her knees.  A moment later, Mistress brushed the wall plate with a finger and the chain retracted from her throat: the collar was no longer needed now that a ring connected directly to her throat.  The major stumbled past naked, her short black hair disarrayed in spikes.  She smelled of their lovemaking last night, as she nearly always did; Nysia had been trained well, and now found herself taking pride in the number of orgasms she could give her mistress.  Last night she hadn’t been allowed to use her arms, which was odd, but she still did well: Mistress had screamed with pleasure at least three times. 

            Mistress used the bathroom first, using the toilet and then standing, feet apart, to brush her teeth and floss.  This part of the routine had been difficult for Nysia to force herself to do at first, but now she didn’t hesitate to kneel behind and use her tongue to eagerly clean from sex to bottom.  Mistress didn’t bother with wiping anymore: “Now I’ve got a fucking bidet!”  It was revolting, but the punishment that first time had been worse. Mistress had bent her over the toilet, drowning her in the water as she used a thick leather belt across her bottom.  By the time it was finished, Nysia had swallowed more from her dunkings than she’d ever have cleaned from the major, and her rear end was aflame.  So she kneeled on the floor obediently now, hands behind her back, and worked her tongue dutifully to lap up the mess.  She teased her owner until other juices, far more enjoyable, began to flow and cover up the taste.  Inspired, Nysia drove her tongue deep inside her Mistress; first into the moist sex and then her rosebud, alternating faster and faster between them.  When Mistress’ hips bucked with the approaching orgasm she moved to the clit, fastening her lips tightly upon it and sucking hard until Jillian shuddered with pleasure. 

            “That was…nice.  Feelin’ frisky today, toy?”  Mistress grinned, but this smile was harmless, praising.  Nysia basked in the approval and nodded eagerly; she wasn’t entirely sure what had inspired her.  It just felt right, so she did it.  She’d thought a lot about things, lately.  I want to make her happy.  It doesn’t even matter that I won’t get one today, or that she’s a girl and that’s just sick.  I enjoyed it.  Am I turning into a lesbian?  She thought she might be, until last night: Mistress had removed her chastity plate and pounded her sex brutally with a huge black rubber strap-on until she was so bruised and sore she begged for it to stop.  She’d loved it, though, and the entire time had imagined it was Radley, forcing her up against the walls of the station on the date they would never have.  So no, I’m definitely into guys.  Bi, then.  It should have a momentous self-realization; amidst all the things she’d been forced to do lately, nearly all of which she’d come to enjoy, it seemed fairly tame.  After all, being into girls paled next to masturbating while her best friend was forced to drink cum from another woman’s rear. 

            Mistress had hinted again at the videos last night, probably to threaten with them.  Nysia had surprised herself by instead begging to see them.  She’d promised anything, anything at all to see them.  Mistress had been surprised, but replied simply that she’d think of some way to earn the privilege.  The promise – both the reward, and the perverted desire to experience whatever new torture the major concocted – had kept Nysia wet all night. 

            She was still soaking now as she raced to the galley.  Mistress was in the shower; while she usually took awhile to enjoy it, that still left only a few minutes to grab coffee and breakfast.  But as she sped down the hall, naked as always, she was distracted: a scream from an open room to her left turned her head, and the vision of Lisa writhing in pain on the floor stopped her cold. 

            A tall, thin crewman – a lieutenant, by his insignia – stood in front of her, touching buttons on a remote much like that which controlled Nysia’s own implant.  He was handsome.  His hair was a short, bleached blond, and his eyes looked just a little cruel.  “Now lets get this straight.  I don’t give a fuck if you’re getting breakfast for the Captain.  I don’t give a fuck if you’re saving the whole goddamn ship from implosion.  When I say stop, you fucking stop, bitch.”  He mashed another button and Lisa’s screams renewed.  “Captain Benjamin told me to check up on you, and guess what, you need some more damn punishment.  You may think the whole disobedient git this pretty ripe, but we’re gonna change that shit even if we have to mindfuck you.”  Lisa continued to writhe on the floor, her tattoos moving sensuously, erotic despite the torture.  She moaned and cried, but in a brief moment of lucidity she saw Nysia, and their eyes locked. 

            The lieutenant noticed the look and turned, his eyes lingering on her naked body from head to toe, unabashed.  “You’re the Major’s cunt, right?”  Nysia was almost too shocked at the vulgarity to respond, but when he began to frown she quickly nodded, suddenly afraid.  Yes, I’m the Major’s cunt, she thought.  It sounded kind of delicious.  “Well, get in here.”  He grabbed her arm, pulling through the door.  “This bitch,” he gestured to Lisa, who was panting and whimpering as the input ended, “is going to suck me off, whatever she thinks.”

            Lisa looked up at him from the floor, licked a rivulet of saliva from her lips and spit it at him.  “The fuck I will.  Try it and I’ll bite it off!”

            “Fuck, bitch, you must like the goddamn punishment.”  He undid his trousers, and pulled out his penis: Nysia looked at it in amazement, and opened her mouth to volunteer to take her friend’s place.  It certainly doesn’t look so bad from here….

            As he pushed a series of keys, Lisa’s face went slack and she dropped to the floor like a doll.  Nysia rushed forward with a startled cry, and fell to her knees beside her friend.  “Oh my god, is she okay?” 

            “She’s fine.  Just paralyzed, but fully awake.  However, as you can see, she’s going to need some help with her duties…unless you’re as eager for pain as she is?”  More buttons, and Nysia’s sex suddenly felt a series of sharp pricks, as though it were being pierced all over again. 

            Help some stud use Lisa?  Hell yes.  “No, sir, I’ll help, um, but what…I mean how…I mean, she’s….”  Nysia felt a flush down her pale skin as she grew tongue tied and rubbed her legs, squirming with the continued pain.  A tiny part of her mind, the part that still remained of the girl who grew up a proper teenager on a station with a family, reminded her that nice girls didn’t help strangers rape their friends…but it was quickly pushed aside. 

            “Pick her up.  You’ve got thirty seconds to get her mouth around my prick, you dumb bitch.  Move it!”

            She scrambled, hooking Lisa under her arms and pulling her to her knees.  She balanced the immobile slave there, one arm around her waist, then took a large handful of blond hair.  Their eyes caught for a moment, and Nysia managed a weak, apologetic smile before thrusting Lisa all the way onto the lieutenant’s dick. 

            It only took a few minutes.  Nysia kneeled behind Lisa, looking over her tattoos and watching the man’s length disappear over and over into her mouth.  Her throat bulged as it penetrated deeply and Lisa gagged autonomically.  To Nysia, it was hot as hell.  Oh god, what I’d give for a free hand and a bare sex right now! 

            The blond man stared into her face, not Lisa’s, when he came.  She stared back into his eyes as she released Lisa’s limp form and leaned forward to wrap her own lips around a man’s shaft for the first time in her life.  It was surprisingly warm, and wet, but completely enjoyable – even the taste of his cum was delicious.  Doing this to a man is way better than on Mistress’ strap-on!  She sucked for a few seconds, cleaning him just as she would Mistress, then released him and refastened his pants with a smile. 

            “You…you got potential.”  He turned to Lisa, and a heavy boot slammed into her side, forcing her breath out.  “You’d do well to emulate her, bitch.  For now, you get to lie here…I’ll come take you back to the Captain when I feel like it…or maybe I’ll send someone else to fuck you.”  With a brisk turn he strode from the room and vanished down the hall. 

            Nysia bent over her friend, licking the last of the man’s juices from her lips.  Her friend was still breathing okay, despite the white cream puddled in her mouth; she’d spend the morning tasting cum, but she’d be fine.  “Lise, you gotta start playing along love.  They’ll hurt you bad.  Look…I can’t stay here, I gotta go bring Mistress her coffee or I’m so fucked, oh my god I’m so fucked, but I’ll lock the door and maybe you’ll be okay, right?”  She leaned down and kissed Lisa lightly.  My god she’s so gorgeous, even like this – especially like this?  She couldn’t resist…damn the consequences, I’ve touched her there before…and her hand rand down her friend’s tattooed body with a soft caress. 

            Lisa, too, had been implanted in her neck, and a ring sat in the hollow of her neck.  She also seemed thinner, and was hairless around her sex and armpits.  Besides these, however, she appeared unmodified, and Nysia was relieved.  Her fingertips slid over the silken thorns around Lisa’s sex, then dipped into her cleft.  It was soaking.  I wonder…did she really enjoy this, then?  Or is that just her body reacting to the implant?  Either way, she tastes delicious. 

            Nysia finished licking her fingers clean, and leaned down to give her friend a last kiss.  “I’ll do you better next time, Lees, I’m learning to do it real good, I gotta go though!”  She rose, and grabbed the food meant for the Captain – hopefully it would be hot enough – then raced back to Mistress’ quarters. 

            She was lucky.  Mistress had been savoring her shower, and the entire trip – erotic and chaotic as it seemed – had really only taken a few minutes.  The coffee was still warm, and she kneeled down with it until her owner finished her shower.  As the petite, charming demoness sipped it slowly, Nysia patted her dry with a black utility trousers, she was complete. 

            “What are your orders for the day, Mistress?”  There were always orders. 

            “Shower, and clean this place up.  You’ll work out for four hours today,” the implant would see to that, shocking her whenever she deviated from a rigorous workout that would leave her exhausted and barely able to move.  “Oh, and be ready when I get back.  We’re going out tonight.” 

To be continued:  Please submit a review of this story on the bdsm library site – the author needs feedback!  Comments, suggestions, and ideas for inclusion can also be sent to ElectricBadgerAccessories@yahoo.com. 

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Chapter IX – Out Tonight

            What does that mean?  “We’re going out?”  I know not out of the ship – we’re still using the luminosity drive, so we’re well away from any matter.  So out in the ship…the hell is there to do on a warship?  Isn’t it like, polishing buttons, ironing creases, and march drills?  ‘Cause that’s sure as hell all I’ve been doing so far.

            Well.  Ahem.  Except for that, obviously. 

            And what do I get ready?  Shower, of course.  She’d done that after Mistress left, and again after her workout (her body was still sore – it was a full hour longer than anything previous).  Shaving isn’t really an issue…unlike Mistress, there would no stubble or pop art down there for me, after the DNA injections.  She could use a haircut, although it wasn’t critical, but that didn’t seem like an option.  Perfume?  I’ve never been given permission to use any of her perfume, but I guess damned if I do, damned if I don’t.  Anyways, she’d usually found it hurt less to do put out too much effort than too little.  There were three kinds; she used the only one that didn’t smell floral.  After the first couple sprays, she looked around like a conspirator, and feeling very silly misted between her breasts and above her chastity plate: Mistress was as likely to be there as anywhere else, after all.  She painted her toes and nails – a dark red that complemented her pale skin – and did all the other necessaries. 

            Now, waiting, she just thought about the irony of working so hard to make herself up to be paraded naked and more than likely abused horribly.  I really ought to be a bit less eager about such things.  Instead, she fidgeted in impatience. 

            When Jillian entered and saw her slave kneeling obediently and took in the results of hours of preparation, her reaction was anticlimactic. She frowned, confused; “Why the fuck aren’t you dressed yet?”

            Nysia paused in shock – she had just placed her lips to Mistress’ boots, and the polished leather felt cool against her mouth.  Dressed?

            Mistress covered her face and sighed, very deeply; a sound that spoke of her own patience, and how completely idiotic her pupil was.  “The uniform ya ironed yesterday.  That ya spent hours on.  That was new, and in your size.  That has no insignia, like all of mine do.  Jesus, I make my privates print their name inside their collars, but I expected more from you, Freckles, I really did.” 

            Mortified, Nysia rushed to the closet and took out the uniform.  She dressed in a rush, and was surprised how odd it felt: she hadn’t worn anything in nearly two months.  Several packages had been delivered from the quartermaster in the last couple days, and it had never crossed her mind they might be for her.  Black socks, black reinforced knee-high boots with a mirror gloss finish, black trousers, with white pinstripe, black leather belt…underwear?  She glanced at Mistress inquisitively.  The petite woman paused in the act of toying with a loose strand of black hair to roll her eyes and shake her head.  Okay, so no underwear then.  Black bra – tight fitting and elastic, the sort intended for use in sports – black undershirt with white Civil Marine emblem, and black jacket, double breasted with rows of very bright silver buttons and emblems and a plethora of white trim but, as mentioned, no shoulder insignia at all.  She was clothed in record time, and thankful for all the effort she’d spent on her duties yesterday.  She set the cloth hat, ominously called a “piss cutter” for reasons she didn’t dare ask – lightly on her hair (all still in place, a quick glance in the mirror had shown her) and was finished. 

            “I’m ready, Mistress.  I’m sorry about not being dressed…I didn’t think that was allowed.”  Asking for mercy was pointless, she knew; Jillian was apt to punish her for no reason at all, or even as a sort of twisted reward (and sometimes, creepily enough, it was a reward).  If she’d actually done something wrong there was nothing to prevent hours of torment.  But…I want Mistress to know I didn’t fail her on purpose.  That I tried for her.  That was important, somehow. 

            The major looked up at her with an understanding smile.  “I know ya aren’t used to it, sweetheart.  I like to see all your delectable bits.”  Nysia blushed with the compliment.  “But this is a mixed crew event, and you’re an officer’s property – not some whore to be used by the enlisted.  Your goin’ naked would be like…well, like braggin’ about my pay or wearin’ gaudy jewelry or something.  Not polite, like.”

            “Mistress…if I’m going to be a problem….why not leave me behind?  I don’t mind, if it’s...better for you….”

            “Ah, no,” Jillian adjusted the uniform here and there, brushing away imaginary dust and tweaking the hat to the proper angle.  “It’s the Navy’s birthday, love, all hands that aren’t keepin’ us from blowin’ up are required in mess with their units.  And anyways…I’ve been wantin’ a date.”  A date?  With a girl…that owns me?  This should be interesting.  Well…at least I won’t have to endure one of daddy’s “boys only want one thing” lectures beforehand. 

            Dinner was surprisingly wonderful.  Each unit had its own room, as there was no single area large enough to hold the whole crew, so this was only the ship’s contingent of Marines.  It was still a lot of people: there were nearly a hundred of them, and they were packed tightly together, jostling black uniformed elbows.  As the senior officer, Jillian sat at the head of the table and gave several speeches.  As her date – still a strange thought to Nysia, who realized she’d gotten shockingly used to being goods – she sat one seat to the left. 

            The food was excellent – some sort of steak, and a type of shellfish she’d never seen before – and the conversation rewarding.  Jillian treated her completely different; while there was no question who was in control, she shared amusing anecdotes and witty jokes, and even paused a few times to whisper teasing, playful remarks in Nysia’s ear.  They talked about her command, her successes and her history in the Corps.  “I’ve been lucky, from day one; in the right place at the right time.  I transferred off two ships a week before they blew; my last command was nearly decimated and limped home with only a tenth of the crew alive – and ‘nearly destroyed but moving’ ain’t a common thing in the Navy, Love.  With all the command wiped out, I got bumped up two ranks and even took over for the skipper when we ran outta pain killers.  Did well enough they let me keep the rank…not that it’s a great thrill anymore, with all the coalition governments backing out.  Which is why we’re spending our time in backwaters fishing for volunteers and supply.”  It was strange to hear her owner ramble on amiably – she never spoke like this in their quarters – and Nysia realized, scooting her chair closer to hear more, that she was enjoying it. 

            She wasn’t so included in the wider conversation.  She was treated with the consideration given to a normal date of a coworker: polite but disinterested greetings, a vague inquiry after how she was settling in (“Fine, thank you,”) and then she was completely ignored.  But even so, what would have once been a frustrating ambivalence was a welcome relief: when bracing herself to go out she’d imagined being pawed at, abused by anyone who took an interest in her, and had half suspected she would be gang raped. 

            Not that every slave avoided that fate.  Several girls from the harem were here serving as waitresses, and the offer of clothing had not been extended to them.  Initially they were only groped, but by the time they’d finished the series of drinks of brandy to some Admiral Nelson a party atmosphere had taken over.  Racks in a side room were being loudly used as an impromptu brothel and slaves inside were being randomly harassed.  One blond was standing with a grimace, legs spread wide as an empty bottle was worked brutally into her sex.  Elsewhere, a cute teen in pig tails was tied to a tabletop and used as dinnerware.  A half dozen marines laughingly overturned their plates onto her body and ate off her navel, tummy and chest instead, while her head – hanging upside down over the end of the table – was forced to service a succession of men and women. 

            It wasn’t only the slaves in use, either.  Several pairs of men had split off to the edges of the room and were satisfying one another with their mouths and rears; Nysia watched these with particular interest, delighting in the hard bodies and exposed manly organs.  All these guys are cut…Mistress must work them hard.  Now that I seem to be avoiding the fate, the idea of a gang rape doesn’t sound bad at all. 

            To her left, two marines put several chairs together and collapsed into the resulting couch.  The woman, on her back, had short brown hair and beautiful olive skin; she stretched out, reaching her hands over her head into Nysia’s lap. 

            “Hey, do us a favor,” the man on top spoke to Nysia. “Hold Jone’s wrists for us, would ya?”  With a startled nod, she reached down and gripped them. 

            Jones looked up and smiled, “Harder.”  Nysia nodded, understanding, and gripped them as tightly as she could, twisting them to prevent any escape.  “Mmm, perfect!”

            For the next ten minutes Nysia pinned Jones in place while her comrade yanked open her uniform and took her sex, then rear (the last obviously much to her surprise, shock, and initial dissatisfaction).  To her other side, Jillian continued her conversation about weapons drills without a glance.  Being thus an agent of another couple’s lovemaking, but ignored in her own right, was a bit of a turn on.  It had the same feel of being an object that she had learned to treasure in her service to Mistress.  Curse this damn plate!  She squirmed against the chastity screen, but as always couldn’t get it to touch anything important. 

            And then Jillian’s hand was there, slipping her belt loose beneath the table even as she chatted amiably with others above it.  A brush of the warm fingers and the hated plate fell away, and suddenly she was entered with multiple fingers, and Mistress thrust so hard and fast it hurt, but felt so good.  When Jones screamed with her orgasm – her partner had already spent himself in her rear to her own voluble disgust, and was now using his mouth on her sex – Nysia clenched her pussy around Jillian’s hand and leaned over to whisper in her ear.  “May I please cum, Mistress?”  The major glanced over and nodded without pausing her conversation, and Nysia felt the waves of pleasure wash through her body, trying to stifle any outward betrayal of her state.  “Thank you, Mistress.” 

            She released Jones’ hands, receiving a wink in return.  Perhaps the girl hadn’t disliked being taken that was as much as she voiced?  Hands now free, Nysia reached under the table to refasten her trousers, but Jillian knocked her away sharply.  With no underwear, she was to remain completely exposed beneath the table.  The fingers kept moving within her, however, so she leaned back, contented, and enjoyed the attention – she’d gotten well past her initial embarrassment in being pleasured in public, and having her sex locked up and wanting so constantly made her thankful for every moment of contact. 

            The evening was beginning to wind down when the Captain finally stopped by on his tour of each unit.  Most of the revelers had left to find beds for sleep or sex, and those remaining were deep in their alcohol or – as in Jillian’s case – their conversation.  Almost all the other slaves had been hauled off as well.  The only one remaining was the pig tailed teen, still strapped tightly to a tabletop.  She’d passed out quite a while ago, when those around her had been spent and turned to more violent uses.  The girl remained still, and Nysia was concerned although no one else seemed to be. 

            When they entered in a noisy crowd, however, the white-clad entourage had distracted Nysia from her concerns.  The Captain was accompanied by several other officers and crewman, and of course Lisa.  Nysia couldn’t take her eyes off her friend.  She looked miserable; she was hobbled viciously, straps around her thighs connected by links to others around her ankles, forcing her to crawl behind her master on a leash.  She was clothed in a white dress that ended mid-thigh, but the gauzy fabric had clearly seen rough use earlier that night: it was torn in several places and long, narrow marks from a harsh whip bled through the back. 

            The senior officers exchanged polite greetings and wished each other happy birthday.  “From the look of things,” the Captain continued in his rasping, harsh voice, “You’ve had quite a good evening of it.  I was wondering if I could pry you away, however?  A couple of the junior officers have arranged a bit of a surprise in forward stowage….” 

            “Of course, sir!  I’d be delighted...it would also give us a chance to review those new crew assignments….”  The Captain’s face betrayed just how excited he was with a discussion of crew assignments, but Jillian rose and began to walk with him towards the exit.  Just before she’d risen, Jillian had given a tug to Nysia’s loosened fly to indicate it should be done up, and the slave fumbled with the unfamiliar clothing urgently, hoping to conceal her actions as she rose.  When she turned to catch up the party was looking to the exit – all but Lisa, who perched on her knees with a curious expression.  Then the tattooed girl’s leash jerked as the Captain strode away, and she was forced to hurry along on her knees, nearly stumbling on other’s feet as she tried to keep up. 

            Glancing back, Jillian noticed the situation.  “Captain, why don’t ya hand off your puppy to Nys here?  She’s gettin’ a bit in the way.” 

            “Hmm?  Oh yes, right…yes, she’s terribly ill behaved, barely leash trained at all.  I practically have to drag her everywhere we go.  Not like your slave…she obeys beautifully.”  Nysia took the leash hesitantly, and murmured a low thanks for the compliment.  I obey beautifully…I bet daddy would say something different to that.  “Perhaps you could spend some time with the uppity git, train her a bit for me?”

            “Of course, Captain, I would love to help ya out with her.  About those B deck assignments, however….” 

            Nysia hung back a few steps behind the crowd, allowing Lisa a short break and taking the opportunity to finish buttoning her pants.  The curious expression returned, and Lisa tilted her head curiously. 

            Nysia blushed, then admitted with a smile, “Mistress was playing under the table.”  Lisa’s brows shot up questioningly at the giddy tone.  “I know, it’s like when we used to talk about Radley, huh?  But…I dunno.  She’s kinda cute, in her cheerful demoness sorta way.  I like her.”  Lisa nodded slowly in understanding.  “Come on, we need to keep up.”  She tugged the leash, unconsciously treating her like the puppy she’d been forced to emulate. 

            They walked a moment in silence; or rather, Nysia walked, holding the white leather leash, while Lisa crawled along quickly on all fours.  “Can’t talk?” Lisa shook her head.  “You weren’t modified were you?  This is just tonight’s order?”  Lisa nodded in response, then shrugged a little abashed and opened her mouth to release a quiet “Rarf!”  just loud enough for her friend to hear. 

            Nysia giggled.  “You can only bark like a dog?”  Another nod, and Lisa rolled her eyes and stuck her pink tongue out of the corner of her mouth to show her own opinion of the command.  “Heh.  I dunno, I think it’s kind of cute.  Like Halloween, but without the costume, and all yummy and helpless.  And on your knees like that, you’re damn hot, Lise.  It must drive the boys wild.”  Lisa nodded with a sigh.  “Is that what happened to your back…I heard the Captain say you weren’t well behaved….” 

            With a glare, Lisa snarled and looked about to spit in his direction.  Horrified, Nysia jerked the chain to disrupt the attack.  “Lisa!  Come on…behave tonight, so we can hang out together.  Otherwise they’ll take you away from me.” 

            Her friend nodded, and whispered very quietly, that no one else would hear: “Okay, Nys, I’ll be a good puppy for you tonight, but just for you.  That fuck…he doesn’t deserve it.” 

            Nysia reached down and tussled her friend’s blond curls playfully.  “I’ll try to keep you away from him.”  She continued a bit louder, laughing.  “Oh, and I can feed you from a bowl, and have you roll over and do tricks – in your face, daddy, for saying I couldn’t have my own dog!” 

            Walking along towards the upcoming event, Nysia couldn’t help but look over her friend with an admiring eye.  She had been beautiful when she came aboard – her pale skin, blond hair and elaborate rose and thorn tattoos had given her a sexy, exotic look.  Now she was different; the last of her fat had been worked off, and from the appearance of her limp, lifeless hair and the profusion of bruises and cuts across most of her body she seemed to be having a very hard time settling into her new status.  She was still beautiful, but like a wretched waif, beaten and ready for either consolation or more abuse.  To her own horror, Nysia wasn’t sure which she wanted to give more.  The rebellious, wicked spark in her friend’s eyes made clear that pity wouldn’t be appreciated, and enticingly challenged all those around her to break her will. 

            Forward stowage wasn’t a large place.  It held tables and chairs for a score of men and women, but it was a tight fit – especially with one end set aside for the surprise.  While they squeezed into seats Lisa immediately kneeled at her friend’s feet.  Apparently she’s not allowed chairs, either.  I wonder if Mistress would ever do something like that for me?  It does look fun, in a way. 

            The show began abruptly, without any introduction or explanation.  Mrs. Carlson, the wife of Nysia’s former English teacher, was dragged onto stage by a cord leading from slim metal handcuffs on her wrists.  Although married, she was still quite young, around 25.  Other than her restraints, she was completely nude, and a beautiful body was revealed; she was short, only a couple inches over five feet, with wide hips and very large breasts that gave her a mature, full appearance.  However, she’d already seen hard use that evening, perhaps in some other unit’s gathering.  Splatters of semen were scattered across her chest, imbedded in hair, and dripped visibly from both her sex and rear to flow down her legs wetly.  Once on stage, she dropped to her knees without instruction and crawled forward to the ensign holding her cord.  She deftly unhitched his trousers and engulfed his member with her mouth, thrusting her head forward so hard and deeply she gagged and drooled, but never paused or drew away. 

            “Tell me, slave,” the ensign intoned, his voice slightly ragged from the ongoing ministrations.  “How many have you sucked off tonight, like you’re doing now?”

            She barely paused long enough to answer, “Twenty two,” and take a quick breath before fully engulfing the man’s sex again.  Nysia could see her throat bulge as it was entered.  Stunned, she could only recall the image of Mrs. Carlson, proper teacher’s wife, serving cookies at a sports event.  Clearly, this place had changed her greatly from the woman who wept the entire first night, until the harem slaves shut her up by forcing her mouth into other activities. 

            “Only twenty two?”  Only?  That seemed like a damn lot…how can she still go at it like that?  The woman was acting like a wanton whore. 

            She paused again, a quick breath, then “Twenty two men.  Seven women,” and she buried her face in the man’s crotch again, forcefully, demanding to service him. 

            “And before…this…what were you?”  the ensign gasped, shuddering with pleasure; Mrs. Carlson actually sped up, sucking him hard into her mouth, clearly eager for him to finish there.  When he did, she still kept moving with loud, wet slurping sounds.  Several trails of white cum dripped down her chin: obviously that was where most of the twenty two had finished, as well.  When the ensign was finished spurting into her mouth, she backed away with an almost wistful look and licked her lips.  “I was the wife of a schoolteacher, sir.  A very dignified and uptight one.” 

            “And now?”  It was little more than a moan.

            “Now…I’m whatever you want.  I’m a fucktoy, I’m a piece of ass, I’m an open, willing ass, or cunt, or mouth, sir.”  Nysia’s eyes bulged.  This was Mr. Carlson’s proper wife, who never showed a hint of cleavage?  Compared to this change, my own was small, tiny; I only fell in love with a girl, not so bad, really. 

            Fell in love?  Where did that come from?  Had sex, I meant to say.  Well…repeatedly.  And enjoyed it, a lot.  And I want more.  I want to kiss her feet and stick my ass out to let her whip it.  Is that love?

            Recalling the things she’d so recently done with Jillian – had done to her, really, as she never had any choice in things – she felt herself getting wet again.  And my plate is still off!  She grinned wickedly, glancing to see the others intent upon the stage where four men in heavy leather hoods and gags, and nothing else at all, were led onto stage.  Nysia reached down, subtly, and unfastened her trousers under the table for the second time that night to slide a finger deep within her sex.  It felt divine. 

            On the stage, the ensign was talking again, slightly out of breath but mostly recovered from his endeavor.  “You’ve shown a lot of improvement, Sandra, so tonight you get a present.  You also get to be our implement of justice; these four men were caught last night trying to escape.  Three of them will serve you: one for each of your open, willing holes, as you put it.  The fourth, the one who doesn’t get to use his dick in you,” the ensign held up a piece of metal, about the size of his fist and shaped like a cupped triangle, “never gets to use it again.”  A chastity device…but a permanent one, like Aspens.  Nysia shivered at the thought.  “Feel free to take some time choosing.” 

            She was about to take three men at once?  The idea thrilled Nysia despite the horror of one man’s impending doom – or perhaps in addition to it; Why should we be the only ones to suffer for our Masters and Mistresses?  She started moving her hand faster, feeling the orgasm slowly building within her sex, tingling along her spine.  But a hand upon hers stopped her; Jillian was looking at her with an evil, knowing grin and pulled Nysia’s hand away, turned the hand over…and brushed it against a pair of soft velvet lips, just inches from her sex, below the table.  Lisa!  Omigod, was she that close the entire time?  She shivered with the sensations of Lisa’s mouth wrapped around her finger, sucking her juices off like she would from a man’s prick, and gasped in sudden desire with the thought of her friend’s voyeurism. 

            Mistresses hand let go hers, and the raven haired vixen squirmed in her own seat slightly.  On the stage, Mrs. Carlson was working her way along the line of men, taking each one’s dick into her mouth and performing as she had before: thrusting herself deep upon them until she had to be swallowing halfway down her throat.  Each man in turn moaned past their gag in appreciation, staring into her upturned eyes. 

            Then Jillian’s small hand was back, holding something, and with a quick thrust the vibrator buried itself fully inside Nysia’s vagina.  She gasped in shock, and the entire table turned to look at her surprised face.  Several laughed softly, thinking perhaps she was reacting to the performance, then they turned back to the stage.  The vibrator moved within her, slowly, teasingly.  It wasn’t one of the larger ones in Mistress’ collection – she had a dozen or more – but it was one of the cruel ones, made of metal and dotted along its length with sharp studs.  It hurt almost as much as it pleasured her.  Where did she keep it all this time…she never carries much in her pockets, as she claims it ruins the fit of her uniform….

            Suddenly, she realized where it had been, and why it was already quite warm and wet; she looked over to Jillian in surprise.  How long had she been walking around with that thing inside her?  The cheery disposition and sensual attention all night fell into place.  And then the vibrator switched up a setting as Lisa turned from her finger to her clit, delighting it with quick, light flutters of the tongue.  Nysia found herself too busy trying not to moan aloud to worry about anything else. 

            On stage, however, Mrs. Carlson had been enjoying bringing each man to stiff attention until she reached the last.  The other three men were huge, well built and obviously used to hard labor.  At their side, the fourth looked pitiful in comparison, although he was probably just normal.  Next to chiseled abs and massive, thick cocks, however, his limp member and love handles looked ridiculous.  His loud sobbing, audible despite the gag, only added to the effect.  Mrs. Carlson seemed to agree.  She poked at his groin once, disdainfully, and sneered in disgust.  “I want those three…the big ones, and him,” she pointed as the one to her left, with a tremendous ten inch prick, “in my ass.”  The fourth, scrawny man whined through his gag and tried to say something in an urgent tone.  “Shut up, you pathetic worm.  This one you can lock up, or cut off, or whatever you do…no woman would want that insipid little thing anyways.”  The man screamed as officers stepped forward to grab his arms and legs, thrusting him backwards against the bulkhead.  The other three slaves – the lucky ones – were already moving towards Mrs. Carlson, who leered at them eagerly. 

            Nysia only understood all this vaguely.  She squirmed as the two women pleasured her, Mistress thrusting forcefully with the bruising, malicious vibrator, constantly shifting it to more and more powerful, harsh settings, while Lisa eagerly pressed her mouth above it to overwhelm Nysia’s clit with her tongue.  When Lisa worked a finger underneath to slip the tip into her anus, Nysia came forcefully, bucking her hips crying out slightly.  Again, a few turned to watch her for a moment – it could hardly be a secret anymore that she was being used beneath the table – but they turned quickly back to the orgy on stage as Nysia collapsed, barely sensible, into her chair. 

            Mrs. Carlson was by now thoroughly impaled.  The men hadn’t bothered lying her down; instead, the giant taking her rear entrance had simply picked her up effortlessly and thrust into her with one motion, eliciting a scream of mixed pleasure and pain as the woman struggled against him.  Her efforts for a reprieve to adjust were futile.  A second slave hooked an arm under one of her knees, lifting it high up and away from her sex.  No sooner was it accessible than he drove forward, pushing the other cock even more deeply into her bowels and forcing another scream.  The last slave stood confused for a moment, then shrugged and reached up to grab a handful of her hair and pulled her to the side.  She hung there, suspended horizontally with arms under her right leg and left side, as he too entered her and moved his hips harshly.  The men had been saved from modification, but clearly were still less than eager to serve as slaves – particularly to another slave. 

            The men were starting to climax when Nysia was finally recovered enough to be aware of her surroundings again and to see a familiar, half-lidded lazy smile on her Mistress’ face.  Beneath the edge of the table cloth, Nysia saw Lisa at work between Mistress’ legs, eagerly licking the pierced sex with long, firm strokes – like a puppy, almost.  It was a delightful sight: My two closest friends enjoying one another.  Perhaps life on the ship was going to work out, after all. 

To be continued:  Please submit a review of this story on the bdsm library site – the author needs feedback!  Comments, suggestions, and ideas for inclusion can also be sent to ElectricBadgerAccessories@yahoo.com. 

This story is not for distribution or republication.  If you’ve read this work on any site other than BDSMLibrary, please contact me and give the library your patronage.  The Library is free, and the only reason to repost this is to illegally earn profit. 

Chapter XI – Riley

            She saw it was Riley; he was leaner than she remembered him, and his hair had been cut shorter, but it was him!  She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him and planting kisses all over his mouth, his neck, his shoulders, everything she could reach.  “Oh my love, I’ve missed you, thank goodness you’re here, I’ve needed you so badly…!”

            He hugged her back, crushing her so tightly she felt dizzy for lack of breath.  With surprise, she felt not only his arms around her but his rigid member grinding against her belly.  “Mm, you look terrific, Nys…I’ve been needing you a lot too, as you can see.”  He grinned, but she could only stand there, surprised; he was hard already…!  They needed to discuss how to escape and where they could go to quickly wed before heading home (she was rather sure, as thoroughly deflowered as she’d come to be, she ought to be married before seeing daddy).  Instead he was reaching down to firmly grip her bottom, the cloth pants she’d worn for modesty seeming suddenly unprotective, like nothing was between them at all.  As Riley leaned down, Nysia glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of their co-conspirator, Lisa. 

            She was naked – no false modesty for her, no matter the occasion – and apparently still behaving the puppy for the captain: she wore a collar again, but this one was clearly intended for a canine, not a slim, tattooed girl.  It was leather, with small spikes, and a nameplate on the front read, Bitch.  Below it, a black leash dangled from the ring in her throat.  She was acting the part, too: she sat crouched on her hind legs with her arms tight against her full breasts.  Lisa’s legs were parted, and the jagged tattoos on her groin made her seem even more exposed, bringing the eye directly to her womanly opening, which Nysia could see was already dripping.  Nysia felt her own juices responding as she longed to feel her puppy friend’s lips against her sex again, but Riley broke the reverie as he grabbed her ass with his fist hard enough to make her wince.  “Ow…Riley…gentle….”

            He made a dismissive sound, but released her rear – which had to be bruised, now – to start working on the buttons of her uniform.  He pressed against her again, and Nysia felt his warmth, his readiness, as she glanced at Lisa; then, with a flare of anger, she realized why he was hard and ready.  Had Lisa already seduced him?  What had they done before she arrived…they’d both been here, waiting…had Lisa given her the wrong time, made her late…?  In the corner, Lisa smiled back, attempting coy shyness, but Nysia felt a sneer on her lips.  “He’s mine,” she mouthed, staring into her friend’s eyes.  Lisa’s eyes rounded slightly, then she nodded and looked down. 

            She turned her attention back to Riley as he eagerly, clumsily groped her breasts, squeezing them too hard and pulling to stretch out her small buds.  She ran her hands down his chest, idly noting how wrinkled it was; indeed, his entire ensemble was unkempt, as though he’d been sleeping in it.  She leaned forward to smell his manly odor – the hero simply always has a manly odor – but his scent was stinking and unwashed.  Her nose wrinkled in distaste and she tilted away again, looking down to hide her expression, and saw his scuffed, filthy boots.  Mistress wouldn’t be seen in such things, or in such a state; she’d make me bathe her, launder her clothes and buff her boots, or polish them to a shine with my tongue.  Her eyes closed and Mistress’ scent filled her mind, and she found herself smiling at the thought of licking those beautiful, tiny boots as Mistress looked down, pleased. 

            No!  I am not comparing Riley to that…that…that whore!  If she looks good, it’s because she’s a freak, and a cruel one.  So what if Riley sweated?  That was normal.  He was normal, and this was normal, and she desperately wanted to be normal again herself.  “Take me away, Riley….”

            Riley, meanwhile, had made short work of the uniform Nysia had spent so much time preparing.  He practically tore her jacket and shirt from her body – would have torn them, had they been made of lesser material – and threw the pressed garments dismissively into a dusty corner.  It was only when he wrapped his hand in her silken brown hair, twisting her head back and forcing her painfully to her knees, that it crossed Nysia’s mind that he’d barely spoken to her.  No deep, heartfelt words, no promises of rescue or forgiveness for her wantonness.  He acted like the worst of the crew, assuming she was just an object here for his pleasure although they’d never shared sex before now.  Indignant, she opened her mouth to confront him but before she’d completed the first sentence he thrust his hips and silenced her with his dick. 

            She sucked it instinctively, tilting her head to take him in her throat, just as she took the larger tools in Mistress’ collection of dildos.  Riley wasn’t that long, however; he barely pushed against the back of her throat, and that was strangely disappointing.  How can I respond to this, let him do this?  Nysia asked herself as she moved her tongue against the underside of his penis. 

            Why wouldn’t I, though?  Wasn’t this just what I always fantasized about, back home?  He would pin me against a wall and force me…he would ignore my protests and just use me.  Isn’t this really just what I want?  Don’t I want him forceful and dominant?  With a force of will, she made herself relax and thrust back into Riley, trying to take him deeper.  He grunted with appreciation, arching his back and pushing with his hips.  She could feel his climax approaching, could feel the tremors that always preceded the best of Mistress’ orgasms, but he forced her mouth from his penis. 

            “I need to take you, Nys…are you still a virgin?”  Nysia paused, shocked – how dare he ask such a thing?  But…she was his girlfriend, he should know, I suppose…and it’s really terribly wrong that I have to think for a moment, am I virgin?  No man has taken me down there, so I guess I am technically….  She nodded, “Y-yes, Riley, I want to save myself for you, but….”  Before she was done he grinned madly, his eyes alight with lust, and pushed her backwards onto the floor.  Her fall knocked her breath away; by the time she recovered he’d torn her pants open and knelt between her legs staring in confusion at the metal chastity plate concealing her sex. 

            “How do you…?”

            “Only Mis…er, Major Travis can get it off.  I’m sorry, Riley; but some day!” 

            He groaned.  “All this…you got me this hard and I can’t even fuck you?”  No words of sympathy – Sorry you’ve been implanted with horrid things against your will, Nys, a shame that! – just an expression of his own misery.  Nysia felt her temper rise, but checked it again…I want him this way…this is normal!  I want to make him happy….

            An idea came to her mind, but it was sinful and made her blush; it was definitely not what proper girls did, but to make Riley happy, it couldn’t be bad, could it?  “Riley…”

            “Yeah,” he replied, surly. 

            “You could…I mean, others…I mean, well, you could take my…bottom…if you want to, I mean….”  She stared down at the floor in shame and misery. 

            “Eh…I guess if I have to.”  He looked up and gestured to Lisa, whom Nysia had entirely forgotten.  “She’ll probably bitch and struggle, you get over here and pin her ass down for me.” 

            Her temper rose again…Lisa had probably planned all this, to get him excited, when she could only offer her most demeaning hole, then to spring in! 

            The slim, blond haired girl moved forward on her knees, then grabbed each of Nysia’s arms and twisted them above her shoulders, stretching her friend across the floor and forcing Nysia’s back to arch tightly.  Satisfied, Lisa knelt with a leg on each forearm to pin it her fellow in place, then reached out to take one of Nysia’s ankles in each hand, pulling them back to raise her bottom off the decking, presenting her anus lewdly for penetration.  Although she burned with shame and cursed her former friend silently for her betrayal, Nysia allowed herself to be positioned; backing out now would only push Riley right into Lisa’s arms. 

            He inched forward on his knees, lifting his solid member and positioning it at Nysia’s rear entrance.  Without a glance at her face or a word of warning, he thrust into her, deeply, and she could feel herself tearing.  In this pose her body formed an L, with her back and head on the ground; with Lisa it was a triangle, and the dark red lines of her tattooed sex hovered just above Nysia’s face.  “Lick me, Nys…let me muffle your screams with my cunt…do me like you promised you would….”  Curse her for bringing that up, for making her even more of a slut in Riley’s eyes!  She turned her head away, crying, and never saw Lisa’s hurt expression. 

            Riley either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care.  He continued thrusting hard, even when Nysia began to bleed around him, grunting each time he stabbed forward.  Lisa held her captive dutifully, pinning her hard despite her lack of struggles; Nysia knew how much pleasure it gave, because Lisa’s sex dripped hotly on her cheek with each motion.  She despised her friend for helping with this abasement, conveniently forgetting what she’d forced Lisa to do here last time. 

            The torture continued for a while; long enough for Lisa to cum twice, each time grinding her mons against Nysia’s cheek.  It only ended when Riley gave up in disgust.  “Shit, she just lies there,” he sneered to Lisa.  “I need a wet cunt; lie down and fuck, Lisa.”  The blond moved immediately to obey, rolling off her freckled companion to lie on her back with her legs spread obscenely wide, her fingers busy between them.  Nysia sobbed, unable to speak, and tried to move between them, but Riley simply shoved her aside and thrust into Lisa. 

            They fucked for an hour after that, at least; Lisa would pump him dry, then turn around to lick him clean until he stirred again.  When he was ready, she would spread herself for him, and with each thrust she moaned and screamed with pleasure.  Riley forced the girl into every position he could think of, and Nysia remembered her friend had been a gymnast; Lisa was contorted into arrangements she could never hope to replicate.  Her beautiful tattoos were spattered with white cum, and even after she wiped it with her hands and licked it off her fingers her body glistened as though oiled. 

            When he was finally completely spent, he just pushed Lisa away from his groin and stood stretching.  He dressed without a word, but as he walked towards the door he nudged Nysia with a boot.  “Stop PMSing and calm down, hun.  It was your fault, getting me all worked up like that when you couldn’t finish me.  Anyways, she’s just a fucking slave.”  He gave her a moment to respond, but she was silent, so he only shrugged and walked out.  “Whatever.  Just be ready to escape; there won’t be much warning.” 

            After a few moments, Nysia heard Lisa get up and approach.  A hand touched Nysia’s arm; it was an attempt to comfort, but the fingers were still wet with cum and fluids and sweat.  Nysia jerked away, rose to her feet and turned upon her former friend, her eyes wide with fury.  “Fuck you.” 

            Her hand flew without thinking and struck before she knew it, hard enough to wrench Lisa’s head around and send her across the floor.  She grabbed her disheveled, dirty clothing, her foolish attempt at modesty, and fled. 

To be continued:  Please submit a review of this story on the bdsm library site – the author needs feedback!  Comments, suggestions, and ideas for inclusion can also be sent to ElectricBadgerAccessories@yahoo.com. 

This story is not for distribution or re-publication.  If you’ve read this work on any site other than BDSMLibrary, please contact me and give the library your patronage.  The Library is free, and the only reason to repost this is to illegally earn profit. 

Chapter XII – Guests

            She cried, back in the room she shared with Mistress.  Even in her deepest sorrow she was too well trained to sprawl on the bed, though in her youth that had been a preferred place for sobbing: face buried in a pillow, soaking it with tears, waiting for daddy to knock lightly on the door and hold her, Everything will be all right, Nyssie, don’t cry….  There were no gentle pats on the back, though.  Even the desk chair was off limits – No pets on the furniture! – so Nysia simply fell to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest, rocking and whimpering. 

            It had all gone wrong.  The knight in shining armor had sneered when she offered herself, had thrust her aside – literally – in preference of her dearest friend.  That’s not at all how the vids worked; the strapping young men always fought off the evil villain (although the idea of Riley fighting off Mistress seemed somewhat laughable, she had to admit).  There should have been a daring, hair-raising escape at least, through tunnels and laser beams and all sorts of deadly things; not “Stop PMSing.”  The stars never said something like that!

            Everything’s gone wrong, somehow, she thought with self pity. 

            Mistress returned humming softly to herself.  The metal doors whispered open to admit her, mindlessly, robotically obedient to the woman’s fiendish will just like Nysia now was.  Her heels clicked a sexy staccato against the deck as she entered. 

            For the entire afternoon Nysia had done everything she could to hide evidence of her foray.  Her clothes were cleaned and pressed once more, ready for a drill or inspection, creases that could cut like diamond.  The floor was wiped, polished, no smudges of shuddering sorrow, smeared blood or trace of tears.  Nysia herself was clean, her eyes no longer quite puffy or reddened, a touch of make up, eye liner, heavy lipstick to distract the eye, just in case.  She was composed, kneeling, ready to bend over and kiss each of Mistresses leather-clad toes; but mid-kiss she knew it was useless. 

            Glancing upwards, Nysia saw Mistress staring down with a strange look to her green eyes.  Too intent; normally Mistress barely paused to allow Nysia  to demean herself, or just brushed by dismissively.  This was too focused, too reading.  She knows!  But how…? 

            She didn’t look angry, however.  Usually, when she was mad, that was a terribly bad thing; the night of the fire, the Major had giggled like a schoolgirl.  But now…she looked almost sad, too.  For a moment, Nysia wanted to know what tore at the Major’s heart, but the moment passed too quickly to ask.  Mistress threw a plain box into the corner where Nysia slept.  “Fetch, girl.”  Taking the cue, Nysia scrambled after it on all fours like a puppy, her sadness gone in an instant; as always, when she served Mistress the rest of existence seemed to vanish.  She took the edge of the lid in her teeth – it was fastened to the box – and trotted back to Mistress, acting the full part of the trained canine.  She’d learned, through many painful lessons, that it was best to put every effort into any task for Mistress. 

            Jillian’s lips twitched in a depressed hint of a smile, then the Major leaned down and patted her head softly.  “Good pup.  I thought you might enjoy that role…I’ll have to keep you in it more often.  But for tonight, we have other plans – open your box and get dressed; we have company coming over tonight.” 

            Nysia’s eyes widened as she remembered the last time they’d been in company: for a second she shuddered with the erotic memory of pinning down Jones while her mate stripped and used the marine.  And a box…she wasn’t sure if that was promising or ominous, then realized having to even think about it made it fairly ominous.  She slid her nail along the edge of the lid, tore through the tape and lifted the lid free. 

            It was a mask of black patent leather; shiny, almost plastic to the touch, it would cover the upper half of her face with only narrow slits for eyes.  It was edged in flourishes and glimmered with seduction; Nysia felt herself grow wet at once.  She lifted the piece reverently, holding her breath in amazement, then winced suddenly as something sharp poked her finger. 

            She turned the mask over and her eyes widened even further, and she grew even wetter, although this time it was with a sense of dread.  The outer edge of the mask was lined with tiny pins, just long enough to pierce skin and all pointed inwards.  Once cinched down, this mask would never slide off. 

            “Mistress…am I…to be punished?  Very badly, I mean…I know I’m always…I mean….”

            “Yeah; you’re gonna be punished pretty bad.  And at the same time no, this isn’t a punishment at all.”  Jillian shrugged, hesitant or simply uninterested in explaining.  “You’ll get what you need.  But don’t worry; if you’re good, tomorrow you’ll get what you want.”  As Nysia stumbled over the cryptic statement, Mistress took the mask from her slave’s hand and deliberately positioned it on Nysia’s face, then pressed firmly against her skin.  Nysia did her best to hold still, but couldn’t prevent wincing and whimpering as her eyes felt rimmed with fire. 

            The band was locked quickly – another thumbprint lock – and then Mistress held up a small mirror.  Nysia stared in shock at the beauty that was reflected.  With her eyes in shadow and her brightly painted lips so lewdly emphasized she looked like a seductress; No, she corrected herself, I look like a prized whore.  The thin rivulets of blood and tears flowing down her cheeks looked vulnerable and alluring, and made her want to hurt more – it was too beautiful to resist.  “Thank you, Mistress,” she breathed, and realized only after she spoke how much she meant it. 

            “You’re welcome, darling, but that’s only the beginning of the night.  Now get ready; this will be a big night for you.” 

            Oh yes!  She remembered Mistresses command and bent over to her drawer to remove her uniform, which suddenly, again, felt like a wonderful and powerful thing, but her hands were slapped away.  “You’re dressed enough, slave; anything else would just get soiled.  In fact…you need a bit less down here.”  One hand lifted Nysia’s chin, pinning her bare back against the cold metal wall, holding her helpless while the other traced a finger up her thighs and brushed against her metal plate.  It dropped away, and Nysia’s bare cunt felt suddenly cold and exposed.  “Now,” continued Jillian, “Go piss and freshen up.  I want this clean before the boys mess it up tonight.” 

            Nysia was frozen in shock as realization dawned: a big night, a special gift…her chastity plate removed.  Men are coming…to fuck me.  Dread filled her, and her sex dripped down her bare thighs. 

            By the time the intercom chimed to announce the arrival of their mysterious guests, Nysia had bathed herself thoroughly outside and in, careful not to damage the mask.  Jillian checked her slave’s work, announced it was satisfactory as she licked her lips clean, and had waited in the sole chair with a glass of whisky.  Nysia had nothing to do but stand in her corner, shifting from toe to toe in angst, knowing better than to reach up and wipe away the tiny rivulets of blood that traced their way with itching slowness down her cheeks.  It felt like hours, but really could not have been more than half of one before the door slid aside and men (men!  Not just one or two, but half a dozen at least…) were walking through the door. 

            They were tall and trim, with rippling muscles and tans with no lines.  No doubt their features were handsome too, all the slaves were beautiful, but they were covered with leather hoods.  No eye holes or red tears like her own – she would have licked them away, had that been the case – just solid masks that covered the top half of their faces and buckled securely to thick collars. 

            Nysia fell to her knees without thinking – it was how she’d greeted Mistress every day for…months…and seemed natural.  Besides, her mind and eyes were filled with the silken hardness and she leaned forward, filling her mouth too.  Worries and sadness melted away, and all that was left was sex. 

            The slave she pleasured grunted in satisfaction, filling her mouth with his seed at a murmur of command from Mistress.  Nysia devoured it hungrily and whimpered when the softening tool was withdrawn, but Mistress led another to her and she turned upon him instead.  The rest of the men followed the sounds of hedonism – they knew what they were there for, after all – and Mistress guided them with a touch here and there until Nysia was surrounded by cock.  She moved from one to another, delighting in each man’s different taste and feel, the shapes and textures of each member, they way they twitched as she ran her tongue around them. 

            Only after she’d sampled every one did Mistress lean forward to whisper in her ear, too quietly for the men to hear over their own moaning. 

            “These six are special, darling, a bit of a gift…you’ve seemed so homesick lately I brought some of home to you.”  Nysia looked up in confusion, raising a thin brow as she took a blond giant into her throat.  “All of these slaves were taken from DiamondStar, when I claimed you.  They’re your friends, or enemies,” Jillian giggled light heartedly.  “Hell, maybe even your family.  You’ll never know, and neither will they, so enjoy getting fucked.”

            Mistress stood up, ignoring her slave’s bewildered expression and shocked stillness.  “Enough bein’ nice, slaves.  The whore in front of you is a virgin; yer all here to fuck her.  And I swear to god,” she added in a sultry whisper, “if her cunt ain’t black and blue from the pounding tomorrow morning I’ll fry you all til yer ears bleed.” 

            Nysia’s eyes widened in fear, but the men acted instantly.  She was thrown to the ground, her head resounding off the deck with a hollow thud that stunned her.  By the time she’d regained her senses she was impaled – she’d never even felt the thrust that took her last remnant of virginity, but now the huge tool felt like a pipe prying her apart.  She screamed with the pain of it, and the pleasure, but another slave followed the sound and her mouth was full again. 

            They took turns after that; one nameless, faceless Adonis between her thighs at a time while the others held her wrists and ankles.  They used her throat until it was ragged and her jaw was too sore to suck them, and then they continued anyways, perhaps just to shut up her screams. 

            And scream she did, even with a dick – or two – filling her mouth.  They followed Mistresses instructions eagerly, slamming her hard and fast, pulling her legs wide to drive deeper and quicker.  Her screams mixed with moans of pleasure, however, just as her tears mixed with blood and semen to stream down her face and neck.  Each push drove the men in her mouth deeper into her throat, and drove her towards another orgasm – she lost track of how many she was forced to endure. 

            After a while – at least one full rotation of the men – Mistress pulled one from her face and sat astride her mouth herself, lowering her trimmed cunt to grind it against Nysia’s spattered lips.  Nysia found the strength to respond, licking Jillian deeply and murmuring her thanks over and over for the gift. 

            The major came quickly – She must be enjoying this quite a bit, too, Nysia thought happily – and her juices mixed with those coating her face.  As she stood, Jillian looked down mischievously and slipped a finger into her own sex, masturbating as she stood over her girl. 

            “Oh boys, you’ve made my little fucktoy all dirty…lick her clean, filth.”

            Nysia grinned, and then she was squirming beneath tongues licking her everywhere.  They roamed across her face, darting quickly to lap up loads of cum and blood and Mistresses wetness.  She was covered; it was splattered in her hair and the crease of her ass.  She was covered in it, coated with fuck and passion and use.  Men’s mouths worked across her breasts, lingering on the sensitive studded nipples, biting and sucking; Nysia wondered when a slave had come on her chest and how she hadn’t noticed, but now she looked down to admire how the oily whiteness coated her.  Out of sight a mouth worked between her thighs, eagerly sucking out what had been so brutally forced into her; even so, she could feel it dripping down her thighs and ass until her hips were lifted and a tongue began its work there, too, running across her sticky globes and dodging hesitantly against her rosebud. 

            “Oh god,” Nysia screamed, arching her back as she shook with orgasm after orgasm, thrilled by the overwhelming sensuousness of the moment.  The perverted bathing continued until no trace remained of the orgy, just glistening, freckled cream skin being pleasured by a half dozen mouths.  Finally, realizing she was clean, the men returned to their work soiling her again; a cock was between her thighs once more and she didn’t even bother to look who it was, although she was fairly certain she recognized at least two of the men as former classmates. 

            This time, however, she remained more firmly in control; when the hesitant tongue at her bottom made to retreat she held him in place and ground her ass against him until he forced himself deeply into her, and after a while she told him, in her best impersonation of Mistresses tone of command, to shove his cock in her ass til she bled.  She meant it, too, and he did as she told him, and screamed out how tight she was, how wonderful to fuck.  She purred like a kitten beneath the abuse – Shows you, Riley! – and when he’d spent himself within her she ordered another man into position; then, out of sheer playful perversion, Nysia commanded the slave she’d recognized as Gerald Rimms to lick clean the cock she’d just had in her bottom.  She just wanted to see one man do that to another, and stared in fascination as the blond eagerly set to work.  By the time he’d made his fellow hard again Nysia was too maddened with passion to think, and she leaned over, still impaled in both her other holes, to share the tool with Gerald, sucking and tasting until he erupted again with a copious orgasm.  She shared that with her colleague, both swallowing part and tasting the mess from each others’ lips. 

            Throughout the orgy Nysia wondered how much her blindfolded companions guessed about her identity.  Certainly Gerald knew who she belonged to…or had he been led away early that evening…she couldn’t remember.  And of course, they had no particular reason to believe it was her. 

            For her part, Nysia was only sure of two identities, and those were boys she would have eagerly taken back home as well.  The other four left her guessing, however, and she was unsettled by the Major’s hint at incest: DiamondStar was a small gene pool, and the odds of one out of six men being her relative were very real.  And besides, would Mistress have brought it up at all, except to let her know it was true?  Unless, of course, she was simply playing one of her cruel games.  She didn’t have a brother, just a younger sister; and none of these were her father.  She had cousins, however, of the right age; and one man could definitely have been her uncle Eli.  It was all so confusing, though; she kept looking, but it was hard to see past dicks and hardened abs, and after a while – after they’d all used her a couple times at least – she decided those parts were all that mattered, tonight at least.  If she were taking her uncle’s seed in her mouth, so what; it was pleasurable.  And, she realized, although she no longer wanted to know who’d used her so viciously in her last moments on the station, part of her delighted perversely in the twisted possibility it was her own father. 

            Eventually she was too exhausted to demand more, although they kept taking it even when she just lay spent and unmoving.  With a chuckle, however, Mistress dragged Nysia to her chain and locked her up for the night.  She leaned over, almost motherly, and tenderly kissed her slave good night. 

            “I know there are things I can’t give ya, but hopefully…at least, this, I can.” Satin lips brushed against hers, and withdrew.  “Sleep, love; it’s my turn.  You’ll fuck them all again before morning.”

            Jillian walked back to her cot, taking hold of a member in each of her hands and dragging the men with her.  She lay down on her back with her legs spread wantonly, and the slaves were lining up to take her in turns.  Nysia watched silently from the corner, idly playing with herself as Jillian was pleasured by slave after slave, brutally shocking any that weren’t sufficiently hard when their turn came with a long electrical prod.  By the time Jillian was on her fourth lover Nysia’s body was surrendering to her fatigue, drifting in and out of sleep.  She was barely able to see her Mistress take each of the men once, and marvel at their endurance – Perhaps they’ve been augmented, too? – before she slept completely.    

            She awoke in the darkness to hands fumbling at her blindly, feeling at her legs and thighs.  Nysia spread them obediently and reached up to find the man’s member, which began to harden under her touch.  He moaned, quietly, but the cot creaked slightly and she knew it had been enough to get at least one other person’s interest.  She batted her eyelids sleepily and winced with the pain; she still wore her mask, and the tiny pins around the edge sat imbedded in her skin.  Despite the pain, she pulled the cock to her lips, stroking it lightly with her tongue.  It tasted of cum – no doubt that of several men – and of Mistresses sex.  She slurped it eagerly, feeling her own wetness begin to flow, and thanked the heavens Mistress had never bothered replacing her chastity plate. 

            She stood against the wall and let the man take her there, quickly and passionately, with muted grunts and moans as they tried to avoid waking anyone else, but also to entice those already awake.  When she came, just before the slave allowed himself to follow, Nysia surprised herself by moaning her Mistresses name. 

            But even after she’d licked her wetness from him he stood in front of her, flaccid and shifting from foot to foot with nervousness.  She continued kneeling, looking up into the darkness, trying to guess at his intention when a sudden stream of liquid dashed against her cheek.  She recoiled with a gasp, and the flow stopped. 

            “The fuck?” she whispered harshly. 

            “I’m sorry,” he murmured with a tone of remorse, “the other Mistress told us to use you as our toilet tonight…and I really…I mean, I’d hold it, if I could….”  Nysia shrugged.  Somehow, its being an order from Mistress was different, acceptable – with those words it seemed like the natural thing to do. 

            “It’s fine,” she assured him, “I don’t mind.  Just piss, right?”  She opened her mouth around his flaccid penis, tilting her head back to make a bowl of her mouth.  The man didn’t respond to her question.  He released a warm, steady flow of urine into Nysia’s mouth, forcing her to swallow quickly to avoid spilling.  When he was done he just flicked his member a couple times, as he would at any urinal, although the motion spattered drops into this one’s brown eyes. 

            The cycle was repeated through the night; she would be awakened by a tentative shake and a quick coupling, sometimes in her mouth, others in her sex or bottom.  She’d lick them clean afterwards, then serve as their toilet in the darkness.  Twice she grabbed hold of the men by their balls as they finished, as she’d seen Mistress do, and she pulled them down and returned the favor, although the men clearly weren’t trained and sputtered and moaned.  Another time it was her Mistress, and Nysia whispered thanks as she worked the major’s sex clean of last night’s couplings.  The petite woman simply muttered sleepily, pissed, and stumbled back to bed, where she woke at least two of the men; Nysia listened to them take her for the next hour. 

            Mistress commanded the boys to perform again in the morning.  At first, Nysia didn’t even realize what was happening; barely awake, she was lifted by her wrists and ankles and spread across the bed, where she lay next to Jillian.  She struggled for a moment as hardness forced its way into the soreness between her legs, which hadn’t had time to moisten, but she was held down as she struggled and her confused protests were ignored.  Her body took over, however, and she thrust back against the man forcing his way into her even before she blinked away blurriness and realized it was Gerald within her, and she tried to believe that didn’t mean she’d happily screw anyone who felt like using her.  By then she was slick – Already?  Am I really such a slut now? – and he pounded her fast and hard. 

            To her side, Mistress began to gasp and moan in a quick rhythm.  She, too, was being mounted, a huge member disappearing into her small frame.  My word – it must be hitting her lungs!  How can she take it, let alone enjoy it so? 

            As if hearing her slave’s thoughts, Mistress turned her head to stare into Nysia’s eyes as her own widened with sudden ecstasy.  She came hard, her back arching tightly and her hand reaching out to squeeze her slave’s. Afterwards, she leaned over to exchange a deep, probing kiss as her lover was replaced by another – apparently he had spent himself at the same time. 

            They continued to hold hands and share kisses as the men took turns, one after another, thrusting deeply between their legs.  Nysia was fucked by each slave in turn; she looked each one over carefully as they entered her previously virgin sex, trying to guess who the last, unknown men were. 

            As pleasurable as it was, it was also uncomfortable.  The tiny barbs on the mask were still embedded in her skin, and her movements caused the wounds to hurt even more than last night.  Besides, the previous evening had involved a lot of pressure and friction in new places, and her sex hurt!  From her mistress’ expression, the major was feeling the same way.  Eventually, both of their cunts and asses were too abused to continue and Mistress herded the naked, masked men into the hallway with insults and threats.  Nysia had no idea how they’d find their way back to their own compartments without sight, but imagined that was half the fun; the six men would have a very interesting morning, that was for sure. 

            Breakfast was delivered shortly after; Nysia didn’t see who had performed her normal task, instead just lying exhausted on the bed.  Jillian, when she returned to bed, laughed girlishly at the sight and flopped onto her tummy, overturning her oatmeal and strawberries onto Nysia’s bare navel. 

            The food was hot; not quite enough to blister her skin, but it brought Nysia awake quite brutally, and left her gasping and crying as her Mistress leaned over and licked the mess off her skin.  By the time it was gone the brunette was squirming in pleasure, the burns forgotten, and she moaned and begged as her owner moved lower, sucking the fluids from between her legs.  Ah, men are very nice, but women hurt so terribly much less. 

            By the afternoon, the holiday – for indeed, it seemed to have been some sort of indulgence – was over.  Mistress shoved her off the bed with a boot, and firmly put her back into her place as a slave, although it was done with a conspiratorial smile.  The dreaded plate was back in its place, and the mask was torn off with a laughing flick of the Major’s wrist: “Oh stop cryin’, little baby, with your nano it’ll be all healed in a couple hours.”  Still hurt like all heck, though. 

            They showered, and spent time exercising, and showered again after; Mistress was fond of cleanliness, after all, and the warm water felt delicious on sore bits.  Jillian read most of the afternoon – some history about the start of the war, to which she routinely snorted derisively.  Nysia cleaned the room – spunk is no longer such great fun once it’s dried onto everything, and weren’t those boys even aiming when they took their ease last night?  Most of the clothing and bed sheets involved in the orgy – Nysia blushed at the thought, then felt silly for having done so – were beyond her means to clean; they were placed in a laundry bag with the major’s name and a large barcode just outside the door. 

            All in all, the day became such routine that it quickly came to feel unexceptional, although Nysia grinned foolishly every time a dull ache reminded her what she’d been up to all last night.  Well, I certainly seem to have survived the loss of my virginity, and I don’t feel particularly different.  Rather over rated as a life event, I think, although the sex was quite delightful! 

            It had been a good day; but in the back of her mind, an ember of fury still glowed with the memory of Lisa pleasuring her boyfriend.  As she attended to her mindless tasks, she considered how to obtain her revenge. 

To be continued:  Please submit a review of this story on the bdsm library site – the author needs feedback!  Comments, suggestions, and ideas for inclusion can also be sent to ElectricBadgerAccessories@yahoo.com. 

This story is not for distribution or re-publication.  If you’ve read this work on any site other than BDSMLibrary, please contact me and give the library your patronage.  The Library is free, and the only reason to repost this is to illegally earn profit. 

Chapter XIII – There are Various Ways to Serve

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This story is not for distribution or re-publication.  If you’ve read this work on any site other than BDSMLibrary, please contact me and give the library your patronage.  The Library is free, and the only reason to repost this is to illegally earn profit.