3 – Step One in Breaking a Captive Girl’s Will
Princess Adrianne was very uncomfortable. The lovely raven-haired royalty was in her fourth day of captivity at the hands of Shaden and his dungeon full of sadistic helpers. It was his business, this training of females to be obedient slavegirls then selling them. The Kronos culture required all women be submissive, obedient and meek as lambs. With the native born Kronos women it was little problem, they were bred for submissiveness for many generations. Unfortunately, that also produced a race of small breasted, diminutive females with only a slight bit more curves than a teenage boy. So the Kronos males went off world to capture women for those who could afford to buy the very best. And since these captured women often did not see this captivity as a wonderful employment opportunity, they were rebellious, argumentative, and disobedient — in short, everything but submissive slavegirls. That’s where Tai Harra Shaden made his money. Not only did he capture maidens, he trained them. Then sold them at high prices to wealthy and important people.
Besides, in addition to become rather rich himself, he liked breaking the spirits of the lovely maidens dragged kicking and screaming into his castle. And they were lovely, the pick of a hundred planets, only the best, taken by force and imprisoned for the rest of their lives. But these women from Wolfhome were quite another level of rebelliousness. Several of the keepers had been injured when they momentarily allowed one of the Amazonian warrior women the chance to lash or kick out. Most women quickly learned that the punishments in that place were terrible and to be avoided at all costs. But these warrior women were wild spirits, fierce and proud, and tough as nails. There was a joke going around that Narktous had worn out one of his whips on the back and ass of one of these girls and still she had not uttered a single cry of pain.
Delicious! thought Shaden as he approached the room where Princess Adrianne was being trained. It will be such delicious pleasure breaking these women!
He found the Princess exactly as he had left her the evening before, hanging by her wrists over a stinking pit of sewer runoff. He noted how the head hung down, how the fingers were no longer balled into fists, how every line of the body screamed exhaustion as it hung limp. She was naked, of course, and once again he marveled at the fine figure, so full, so curvy, so very female! It would cost him, but again he considered keeping this one for his own personal slavegirl. Others would be so envious. Of course, if word got out that he had kept the very best for himself without offering her to the Emperor… Yet, if he offered this one, his majesty would surely take her, and then he would lose the finest woman he had ever seen.
Wrinkling his nose at the smell, he entered the room and unhooked the wicked little black leather whip from his belt. It was a general purpose whip, stiff enough to cause real pain but flexible enough to be used on breasts and other places more sensitive than a girl’s padded bottom. He brought back his arm and slashed the naked bottom a good stroke. It was not with the full force of his strong arm but not lightly laid on, either, enough of a strike to cause pain. The new stroke was laid directly upon a criss-cross network of raised discolored weals from yesterday’s whipping. A fresh slash upon that already very sore skin was far more painful than it would have been upon fresh skin. There came a gasp and small cry of pain and her head snapped up. For a split second those dark eyes shot fire and the upper lip began to curl into a snarl. But with an effort she remembered where she was and cut off the sharp retort before it passed her lips.
“Sleep well, Princess?” Shaden asked with mock politeness. He was not answered, so he continued, “Most women can’t take being hung by their wrists like that. When we use thin rope like that, the circulation is cut off and hands quickly turn purple and go numb. Long enough and the hands are useless for days, sometime forever. Are your hands numb?”
Her reply was a single finger gesture universal to humanoids the galaxy around. There was still a great deal of rebellion within that punished body, he thought and smiled.
Reaching over to the naked form, he grabbed a handful of the dark, luxurious pubic hair and gave a hard jerk. Princess Adrianne cried out at the unexpected pain and her body jerked back and forth a few times within the limits imposed by the ropes on her wrists and those holding her ankles down towards the floor. He looked down with amusement at the dark hairs in his hand. But there were plenty more where those came from and he considered for a moment pulling them out one by one. It would be fun and enough pain to make most women cry. He looked up at that lovely but determined face and sighed. Most women might cry at having their pubic hairs pulled out, but this one was different. She would probably laugh at such mild torment. Besides, he had another punishment planed.
“In the middle of whipping your bottom yesterday,” he began casually, “I saw the look in your eyes that said you wanted to ask what it was I wanted from you. Most women come right out and ask it. They assume that I want them to do something or say something. Very few women realize that a man might want to simply cause pain and watch the woman suffer. But in this case, there is something I want from you. It is your total and unreserved devotion. I want to reach a point where you have totally given up your free will, totally lost all rebellion, and want only to please your Master.
“Ah, I can see by your face that you don’t think it will happen. But it will. Any woman can be broken. Some just take a little longer than others. One day you will be nothing but an owned object, a sexy toy to be played with, used and abused by the man who holds your leash. Your only wish will be to please him. And if it pleases him to deliver pain unto you and mark your skin, then you will fetch the whip for him and kiss it gently before handing it to him.
“You frown, I see. Well, it will come to pass. There are chemicals that could almost do it by themselves, drugs to alter your mind. But sometimes they destroy the mind and a totally mindless body is useless to me. I prefer the old ways as practiced by my forefathers thousands of years ago. Did you know that at one time all women were considered the equal of men on this planet? Amazing, I know! But that was long ago and thank the Gods of Chaos that the men came to their senses and put women in their proper places as slaves.
“We call the process of converting a rebellious woman into a nice, obedient slave training. You are being trained.”
“You call whipping a woman training?” Princess Adrianne spat out. “You haven’t even told me what to do.”
“Ah, so you can talk. Well, yes, this is part of your training. And of the other girls we took with you. This is Phase One. It is simple. I take a few days, or a few weeks, to convince you that I can cause you a lot of pain. That’s all, just that I can hurt you. And that it can be more pain than you could ever imagine.”
He grinned at her frown. “I see that you understand. At least the part about my being able to cause you pain. Do not your wrists hurt? Is not your bottom very sore and burns with a fresh flame where my whip has kissed it?” He took a step closer and grabbed some more pubic hair again. “Shall I pull it all out by the roots?”
The Princess grimaced at the harsh hold upon her curly patch but said nothing. After a few moments he let go without having detached any more.
“The first part of your training is to make you know, really know deep down inside your heart, that I own you. I can do anything I wish to your body: hurt it, beat it, screw your pussy until it bleeds, torture you. I can even kill you in any of a dozen most exquisitely painful ways. And there is nothing you can do about it. No one is coming to rescue you. Your world is far away and no one there even knows who took you.” He laughed at his own cleverness. “Just some dark ships in the night, quickly there, quickly gone. But I digress. I was talking about the first part of your training. You will become aware that I can do anything to you, cause unlimited amounts of pain for any reason, or no reason. Then you will lose hope. Your will to fight will disappear and your whole universe will become an overwhelming desire to stop the pain. Then I can begin to show you how pleasuring your Master is the right path. You scowl but it will be so.”
He patted her sore bottom with the tip of the whip. “But for now you are being shown that I can cause you pain. More pain than you ever thought possible. And…” he paused for dramatic effect, “and not only to you but to those you care about.” He snapped his fingers.
Immediately two of the keepers entered, one tugging on the leash of another captive Wolfhome woman. It was a girl named Rachael, one of the youngest of Princess Adrianne’s private guards and a favorite who often was granted permission to visit the royal bed. Her arms were tightly bound behind her, palms inward and elbows lashed solidly together. She shuffled on feet joined by a short chain as she tried to move to keep up with the noose around her neck as it tightened when the guard pulled and bid her come along.
The young girl of only seventeen summers gasped as she saw her Princess hanging in that foul chamber. Her eyes grew wide with surprise then narrowed with anger at the men who would dare do such things to the royal person. Apparently having given orders before hand, Shaden watched as the guards led the girl over to a wall opposite Princess. While one held the young girl, the other unlocked the chain from her ankles and pushed the feet together to replace the shackles with rope. Then they pushed her back against the wall and bound her ankles to a metal ring set solidly in the cement of the floor.
As soon as her feet were secured to the meeting of the wall and floor, another length of rope was produced and one end of it tied around her wrists. The other end was then thrown up and over a wooden beam going across the room over the pit. When they pulled on the rope, the girls arms were lifted up behind her. Since she was standing on bound feet with her back against the wall, that forced her to lean forward. As her arms rose higher she was unable to keep her balance directly over her feet and found herself in a form of semi-suspension, heels against the hard stone blocks of the wall, and her body leaning away from the wall. A great deal of her weight was taken by the rope to her wrists, and that caused strain upon her shoulders. The teenage girl said nothing but the Princess could see that she was in considerable discomfort.
They tied off the rope and left the girl in her awkward and uncomfortable position. But that was by no means the limit of her torment. One keeper took a length of thin metal wire from his pocket and made a loop in one end. The other keeper held the girl’s body steady as he placed that loop over her left nipple, jerking it down tightly so that the wire cut deeply into the fear-rigid nipple. He repeated the procedure with the other nipple. Both of them looked like little balloons with the wire cutting in deeply at their bases.
“This will show you that we can even cause you to hurt those you love. See those wires? They must hurt her, just being on her like that. But can you imagine what it will feel like to them if someone were to pull on those wires? And that someone will be you.” His sinister snicker made their blood run cold but neither girl said a word.
Shaden snapped his fingers again and one of the keepers knelt down to untie the rope from the Princess’ ankles to the ring in the floor. He took that rope off but left the rope holding her ankles together. As he held her legs parallel to the floor, the other keeper took the end of one wire and looped it around her left big toe. She tried to pull back her legs but the strength of the keeper defeated her. Quickly the wire was looped and knotted around the toe. The second wire was attached to the other toe.”
“I would suggest you keep your legs lifted,” said Shaden sarcastically. “If you lower them, you’ll pull on your girl’s titties and cause her a lot of pain.”
The keepers were finished with their task and the one holding her legs slowly let go. The Princess held her legs bent at the hips although it was obviously already a strain on her muscles.
“It is even possible that you would tear a nipple off. I’ve seen it done.” Shaden seemed very happy at that thought. “Well, I’m off to oversee the training of some of your other girls. Have a nice day.” He headed out but glanced back from the door way before leaving the two naked women to their suffering.
There was very little slack in the two lengths of wire, and no way that the Princess could ease the tension in her legs without hurting Rachael. The last image Shaden had was of one naked woman holding her legs at about forty-five degrees and the other looking very worried. Already those lovely legs were trembling — only a slight bit but enough to foretell of agony to come.
Shaden smiled to himself. This was such a lovely way to impress these slavegirls with the undeniable fact that pain was now a way of life for them. And to make one of them the cause of pain for the other was a delightful touch. He had no doubt that as the Princess grew weary and could no longer hold up her legs, she would suffer even more than her teenage friend. Not that the younger girl would escape pain — no indeed! Those thin wires would cut into the tender flesh of those youthful nipples until she was screaming. And pull those delightfully firm young breasts all out of shape.
He planned to return in a hour or so. It was always so much fun to see how the breasts were stretched by the pull on the nipples. And he hadn’t been lying to the Princess. If she were not careful and jerked to hard, the wire could slice right through the flesh. Of course they didn’t wish to do any permanent harm to the girls, perfect slavegirls brought much more money, and the only time he had ever seen it happen was when the girl with the wires tied to her toes went berserk and began thrashing about. Still, it was always an interesting sight to see the strain as one girl tried not to hurt her friend.
4 – Outward Bound
Eddie’s ship was called the Century Hawk when she bought it, but she changed the name to Golden Girl. She had bought it with her life savings and what Lenard Wilks could lend her, and money from a few other family members. Inside it was a clean ship and a fast one. I was the last one on board and found my three clients in the lounge, talking with Eddie. They seemed to be right friendly with each other and stopped talking when I entered. Eddie got up and showed me to a small cabin on the port side. As I tossed my bag on the bunk, I inquired as to how soon we would be lifting.
“Rhonda has given me the coordinates. We lift in fifteen minutes,” she informed. “Better get your gear stowed.”
Then she was gone before I could think to ask where my clients were quartered. But then, this wasn’t that big of a star ship and finding them wouldn’t be too hard.
I threw my things into a drawer and secured it. Then I laid down on the bunk and stretched out. It had been a busy day — at least when compared to my usual days. Clients, the good kind — paying clients, hadn’t been too common lately. As I lay there, I finally had some time to think. I didn’t know if I could really help these warrior women. Slavers were not rare out on the rim, and there was a good chance that we would not be able to track them down. And even if we did, then what? Was I, with a trio of sword-wielding Amazons, suppose to charge into a planet of slavers, grab the Princess, and charge out again without someone taking umbrage?
Then my thoughts began to drift to other matters. Like those very short leather skirts. My male hormones were stirring restlessly every since the three came on the scene. And Captain Eddie wasn’t doing my poor, tortured hormones any good, either. She was one fine looking woman, a strange contrast to the three warriors but almost as good in her own way. They were tall, firm and athletic. Eddie was shorter, softer and in shape, but a rounder shape. Not that the Wolfhome girls didn’t have curves… They had long raven black hair usually secured in ponytails, and eyes like deep, inky black pools. Eddie was golden haired and had the loveliest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
I had the feeling that Eddie would be a lot of fun in bed. The Amazons I was not so sure about. My male vanity and riled up hormones wanted at the girls, but the logical side of my brain said it might be a mistake. They might put some demands on a man that might be hard to fill.
And then there was the way Eddie smiled. I knew she wasn’t being overwhelmed by my charms but she did have the loveliest smile. My clients frowned a lot and looked at you like they were planning a massacre with you as the prime guest.
Suddenly there was a warning tone and then the ship lifted. Eddie rode her hard and the dash to get above the atmosphere kept me pressed hard into the bunk. Then there was a period of weightlessness before she switched on the artgrav. A few minutes passed, then we made the Jump.
And that reminded me why I really don’t like star travel. There is a tingle all over every nerve in your body as you leave the normal time-space continuum. You see flashing lights, get nauseous, and forget your name. Fortunately it lasts only a second but I’ve been known to loose my dinner immediately right after that.
I wandered forward after the “Secure from Jump Status” tone. At least that’s what I think the military calls it. Eddie was in the control room, sitting at the left console and watching readouts on one of the computer screens. The view screen showed the usual distorted prismatic blurs that are stars set against impossibly intense blackness. If you stood there for a few minutes, you could see them moving, the closest more than those farther away.
“You been out on the rim long?” I asked, hoping to establish some kind of rapport.
“A few months.” She looked up from the console to fix me with those blue eyes. “If you’re asking why I am out here, hauling cargo and people around instead still in the Imperial Forces, I’ll tell you. I washed out. Plain and simple.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” I offered. I had been wondering but really hadn’t intended the question.
“My first assignment was on a small world in the Delta Quadrant. The name isn’t important. But that world had been attacking Imperial transports and it was time to teach the locals a lesson. We came in hard and fast and blasted a relatively defenseless planet into radioactive wasteland. From orbit it wasn’t so bad but when I saw up close what we had done, I nearly puked in my suit. After that I quit.”
In a sense I could understand her reasoning. Imperial forces are never found out here on the Rim but around ancient Terra they have a reputation for being mean and cruel bastards.
“You won’t see too much of that kind of action out here,” I offered. “Lots of small worlds, small space fleets, and petty engagements. Nothing like a whole world being burnt off.”
She looked up at me again and I couldn’t tell at all what was going on behind those lovely eyes. Finally she sighed. “Good.” Then she tapped a couple keys. “We’ll reach Wolfhome in twelve hours. Just time enough to get a good sleep.”
“Sounds like a good idea” I said, looking for a way to bring the conversation around to the possibility of her sharing that sleep with the only man on board. I smiled my sexiest smile.
Eddie smiled back. “If you’re thinking you really need a woman, your clients are down the hall. I have work to do.”
Not much a man can do when he’s dismissed like that. I picked up my pride from the floor and shuffled off in what I assumed was the direction indicated. A little one on one dancing between the sheets with Eddie would have been wonderful, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. Or something like that. Heard that once in an old movie.
Their cabin wasn’t hard to find. I touched the announce pad and a second later the door slid open. Immediately I was groping for words. One of the Amazons was sitting at the desk, fully clothed and polishing her sword. But the other two… Wow! One was casually walking into the room from the sonic shower, naked as can be. The other was sitting on the floor, doing sit ups, also as naked as the day she was born. All three were looking at me as I looked back.
“I… Ahhhh…”
Thala, the one at the table, shook her head. “Haven’t you ever seen a naked woman before?” she said with a smile. No, more of a sneer.
“Yes, but… Well, you girls certainly are… Built.”
“Men!” Fauna said disgustedly. Exactly what that meant, I wasn’t sure.
“Did you want something?” asked Thala.
Have you ever been fed a straight line? Did I want something? Does a Rigilian Sweathog perspire? Do black holes suck?
I got brave. A real man wouldn’t let a couple naked women get the better of him. “Actually,” I said firmly, “I wondered if one of you would like to… ah, spend some time… Ah… Having sex?”
They laughed at me.
Fauna laughed a little less and I thought for a second there might have been interest in her eyes.
“On our world,” Thala informed me, “men do not go asking women for sex. If a woman feels like getting pregnant, she will choice a man and they will have sex once. Twice if it doesn’t take the first time. But casual sex such as I have heard is common on other worlds simply isn’t done. Not with men,” she added pointedly.
“Don’t you have sex drives?” I muttered.
By way of an answer, Fauna stood up and put her arm around Rhonda’s waist.
Okay, I know when I’m not wanted. I made some sort of apology and got out of there. Strikes two, three and four — you’re out.
I didn’t sleep well. Races where most or all of the women are lesbian are not uncommon. I just didn’t like being laughed at by incredibly sexy, naked women. I also didn’t like being on board a star ship with four of the loveliest female creatures I’ve ever seen and have to sleep alone.
I awoke hours later without feeling very refreshed. I showered and then went looking for a breakfast. I found no one in the control room, lounge or mess. The ship could fly very well on autopilot, and I wondered if Eddie was sleeping. The autochef provided a fair meal, and then I went looking for my clients just to have someone to talk to.
No one answered the announce pad so I thumbed the open key. The door slid silently back but there were sounds coming from inside. Sounds I had a little trouble believing. Shocked, I just stood there and gaped with open mouth.
There were four naked woman in the room, two 69’ing on a bunk and the other two engaged in oral sex on the floor. One of the participants laid out flat on her back on the floor was Captain Eddie, minus her uniform. I ached down between my legs to see that she was as perfect out of uniform as she was in it. It was Thala who’s head was buried between Eddie’s legs, and from the expression of rapture on Eddie’s face, she was doing a very good job of it.
Part of me wanted to stay and watch. Hell! Part of me wanted to jump right in and start grabbing and doing my best to satisfy any female body I could get my hands on. But another part of me suggested that these warrior women might not take kindly to a male watching their fun and games. And the ship’s Captain might be happy to show them where they could dump the intruder’s body out the nearest airlock.
With great reluctance I closed the door and wandered off to have a nice, quiet cry.
Many light years away, a different scene was being enacted in the training facilities of House Shaden. The Princess Adrianne was no longer hanging by her wrists over a pit of foul sewer runoff. And no longer were her big toes wired to the tender nipples of her friend. But that torture had left a strong impression upon her mind, one that she could not shake off as she lay in her cell awaiting the horrors of a new day. It hadn’t done a lot of good for the poor tits almost cut off by that wire.
The Princess was naked as were all the women in that place. She was weighted down with heavy shackles that clasped her wrists and ankles, encircled her neck, and were joined to each other and rings on the wall by heavy chains and padlocks. The tiny bench was hard and sleep had not come easy.
As she sat there, listening to the sounds of that horrible place awakening, the fresh screams replacing the dull moans and occasional sobbing she had heard all night, she could not remove the image of Rachael partially suspended by her arms behind her, and her nipples being grotesquely pulled by the thin wire tied around them. She had tried so very hard to keep her legs at an angle so Rachael would not suffer, but even her Amazonian strength could not last forever. Eventually her muscles burned and trembled, and finally would no longer obey the order to stay extended. She had been unable to take her eyes from Rachael’s poor tits as they were pulled harder and harder, her breasts elongating under the pressure until they no longer resembled firm youthful globes.
Rachael had cried when the pain became too great to bare, though, as a warrior maiden she had suppressed all outward expression of the agony until it become simply too much to bear. The Princess could see the fear in her eyes, the fear that the wire would cut through her flesh and detach those youthful nipples.
It had been a very long torment for both women. But the worst part hadn’t been the pain, terrible as it was. The worst part was that she now understood that these men not only enjoyed hurting women, but also did not care if they caused permanent damage. Rachael’s nipples had been cut into and bled some. But they could also have been sliced off, and that is what scared the Princess. They had been left alone for hours, visited only a couple times by that big man with the black beard who talked as if he were in charge. During that time, something could have gone wrong, something could have happened to permanently damaged Rachael’s lovely female attributes. The cruel man had said as much, that he had seen this wire trick cut a girl’s nipple completely off. And he had laughed as he said it.
The Princess tried to flush such thoughts from her mind. Yet what came to the forefront to replace memories was the question of what did they have in store for her today? For the first time since being brought in bondage to his place, the Princess began to accept the possibility that what that man said might come to pass. She, and the girls with her, might actually have their spirits broken and be trained to be docile slavegirls. Pain is a powerful tool, the Princess was finding out. It can change a person.
One of the keepers came for her. She was allowed a brief meal and then was hosed down with icy cold water. Thoughts of being able to place her hands around that arrogant male neck and twist until she heard bones snap flashed through her mind, but the heavy shackles held her back. She was a prisoner and it would be smart to bide her time until a real chance for escape would come.
She was replaced in her cell for a while, then two guards came for her. The shackles were taken off by one as the other stood by. In his hand was a short stick of dull gray metal. At the end pointed towards her were two small prongs. Had they been sharply pointed, she would have considered that it might be some kind of weapon, but they were rounded. The guard held the stick casually but generally pointed in her direction. She kept her eye on that stick. At times it pointed almost to the floor.
Then came that brief moment when opportunity must be snatched or let slip through your fingers. The last of the shackles fell off her ankles and for a glorious moment she was free of all restraints. And one guard was on his knees, picking up the chains that had been her companions during the night. Princess Adrianne made a bid for her freedom.
Her bare foot came around in an attempt to knock that stick from the guard’s hand. It would have been followed up by a second kick either between his legs or to his head, depending on how he moved. Either way, that guard would be out of action for at least a few seconds, maybe more. She would then come down upon the second guard with all her might in a double fisted stroke to the back of the head.
Fine plans. Except that the guard was ready for her and almost casually moved the stick upward so that her foot passed through empty air where it had been. Just as casually, he extended his arm until the pronged end touched the outer thigh of the leg that had just swung by.
There was no noise, nothing to indicate that a weapon had been used upon her, but suddenly the Princess cried out and jerked backwards. All the nerves in her upper leg were burning and screaming at her. She fell back to the tiny bench and hugged her leg. Tears came to the eyes and she cried with the pain.
It took the better part of a minute for the burning to leave her nerves. And then they still tingled and sent pain messages for minutes after that. The Princess knew now that the simple looking stick was a formidable means of controlling slavegirls. She had no wish to again experience such incredible pain. It had only been a slight touch of the two metal prongs on the muscle of her leg but somehow that light touch awoke every pain nerve between her knee and hip.
When he saw the naked woman had recovered enough to listen to him, the guard informed her, “That was only a sample of the second setting. It can be worse. And it can be used on other places,” he sneered. “Would you like Tentra here to hold your legs spread wide while I shove this up your cunt?”
The Princess visibly shivered at the idea. Quickly she shook her head.
When he commanded her to stand, she rose to her feet and stood there with head bowed and tears drying upon her cheeks. She did not resist as they took thin cord and bound her arms behind her with the elbows crushed together. It was painful to be bound that way but not as painful as that stick could be.
The Princess was marched off to yet another of the seemingly endless training rooms, this one consisting of bare walls and a metal bar stretching from wall to wall about the height of the Princess’ waist. It was solidly anchored into each wall. She was pushed up against it backwards and her hands draped over the back. One guard bound her ankles together tightly then left about five feet of rope hanging loose after the final cinching and knotting. The other guard simply stood by with his hand resting on the stick in its holster at his hip.
Another length of rope was used to lash her waist solidly against the horizontal metal pole. Then the rope from her ankles was threaded between her forearms and back down to her ankles. When pulled, that rope tightened over her wrists and pulled her arms down towards her feet. The guard pulled harder and she was forced to lean backwards. When he tied the knots, she was arched backwards over the pole. It was a strained but not overly painful position.
The guards left her alone in the dimly lit room. For a little while the Princess experimented with trying to free her arms from the ropes, but each effort failed. They were simply bound too tightly and knotted too well for her to gain any freedom by herself. She also tried to bend her hips to gain some relief from the arched position, but the ropes around her waist and the pole held her quite solidly.
If, she reasoned, this is to be my torture for today, it will have to last a long, long time. Having her body arched backwards like that was uncomfortable but totally endurable for a women in good shape, which the Princess was. This was not of the same category as yesterday’s punishment had been. Not at all.
Her delusions of spending a relatively comfortable day were shattered an hour later when Tai Harra Shaden walked in, smiling his wicked smile at the anticipation of watching coming pain. Behind him entered a beautiful women, the first Princess Adrianne had seen in this place. She was not as tall as the Princess, nor as most of the warrior women of Wolfhome, but she held herself proudly upright. The soft black leather boots with the thin and very high heels helped, too. That soft leather caressed her legs all the way up to below the knees. The brief panties were also made of black leather and fitted very tightly, so much so, in fact, that the Princess could clearly see how the leather molded itself into this woman’s pussy. There was no top for that pair of nice breasts.
The woman was rather pretty in her own way. Her hair was half way between a hardy red and rich auburn, which complimented her brown eyes quite well. A slender metal collar fitted snugly around her neck, and the Princess had the impression it was more symbolic than a real restraint. The only other item of clothing, or restraint, if you prefer, were two small gold rings, one through each nipple. The Princess stared in disbelief at those seemingly sold rings of gold that someone had placed through the flesh of that women’s nipples. She had never heard of such a thing and it held a strange fascination for her.
“Oh, I see you have noticed Loreen’s rings,” said Shaden. “Very pretty, aren’t they? Those, like the slave collar around her neck, are symbols of her status as a trained and obedient slavegirl. Except that the rings are a little more practical for they can be used in restraining her. Slave Loreen, tell the Princess here how long you had to stand on your toes last week with your tits locked to the rings in the wall.”
“I had to stand for five hours, Master.”
“See?” Shaden turned back to the Princess with a grin. “She had to stand on tip toes for five hours because her tits were locked to rings in the wall. Were you otherwise restrained, slave Loreen?”
“No, Master.”
“Were you comfortable, slave?”
“No, Master.”
“Tell the Princess why I had to locked in such an uncomfortable position.”
“I do not know why my Master did it to me, Princess.”
Shaden’s grin widened. “Did it hurt? Describe the pain to the Princess here.”
“The muscles in my feet began to ache terribly. They grew hot and trembled. And when my feet sagged, the rings pulled on my nipples. I could do nothing about it. The wall was smooth and I could not hold myself up. It hurt my nipples.” She delivered the description of what must have been a very unpleasant afternoon in a casual, even voice holding not a trace of regret, anger or sorrow. She might as well have been announcing that the sun had come up in the morning as usual.
Shaden had another surprise in store for the Princess. “Slave,” he said imperially, “Place a finger through each ring.” Loreen immediately inserted her forefinger up through the bottom of each ring until the golden band fitted snugly around the first joint. She stood there calmly awaiting the next order, even through she must surely have known what it would be.
“Pull.”
Loreen slowly pushed her hands out from her body to make the fingers tug upon the rings. With a strange fascination and horror, the Princess watched the woman’s nipples stretch and then the breast slowly changing shape under the pressure. It was much like watching Rachael’s nipples and breasts the day before.
“Harder,” said Shaden.
The slave Loreen pulled harder. A frown of pain darkened her eyes but she said nothing. For long seconds, then a minute the scene was held, one man demonstrating his control over a woman, that woman causing herself what must have been terrible pain, and another woman watching. Tears began to form at the comers of Loreen’s eyes but still she made not a sound, and still she pulled upon her rings.
“If I ordered it, she would pull those rings right out of the flesh they are embedded in,” announced Shaden. “It would hurt, it would do damage, but yet she would do it. She is a well trained slavegirl.”
Almost as an afterthought, Shaden added, “You may let go now, slave.”
Loreen pulled back her fingers and then removed them from the rings. She still did not say a word.
“You do not believe it, Princess Adrianne, but one day you will be as well trained. Perhaps it will amuse me to order you to pull at rings in your own nipples and keep pulling until I tire of it.
“But enough of that for now. I have brought slave Loreen here because she is to be a part of your training. A painful part, as it will happen. Slave, take this whip.” He handed her a small whip, a stiff handle covered with wrapped leather strips, and three thin leather thongs coming from that.
“Position yourself to whip the Princess’ front.”
Princess Adrianne’s head snapped up. Could this be? It was one thing to have your bottom beaten and marked up, but another for that to be done to your breasts. A woman is very sensitive about her breasts, and the very idea sent a cold chill through her.
Loreen stood to the left of the bound and naked slave trainee, and held the whip down to her side. The Princess began unconsciously straining against the ropes holding her helpless before this terrible threat. There was fear in her eyes, but not a word on her lips.
“This whip will sting. It will make your skin burn. But it will not cut the skin nor leave any marks,” informed Shaden. “Yet it will become a terrible ordeal for you because the whipping of your breasts and tummy and thighs will go on and on until you are ready to scream. And then you will scream. And still it will go on.”
“Show her one stroke, slave.”
Loreen’s arm came back and then swung forward. There was a slight swishing noise and then a smack as the leather impacted the large breast. The Princess held back a gasp at the sudden pain. But he had been right, it was not as terrible as those previously delivered to her bottom. Yet it did make her skin sting. She looked down and could see one small red area on the top of the breast. She knew there were two others below that but out of her vision as she stood there arched backward.
“We will now begin. Slave Loreen, you will slowly and steadily whip this girl’s front, from the top of her breasts down to the top of her knees. Miss no area, and include the sides where the whip will reach. When I return, I expect to see the whole front of this woman marked up an angry red. And I would like to see her crying.”
Shaden turned and left without another word, smug in his certainty that the orders would be obeyed completely and without question.
Without expression on her face, Loreen began the whipping, starting on the top of the left breast and slowly working down that side, laying the fresh marks almost side by side. Each stroke was delivered with neither a light hand nor a heavy one, but just enough to make the sting and burn. When she reached the area just above the knees, she shifted to the other side and began laying down a pattern of marks up the other leg.
For a long time the Princess held back both expressions of the pain she was feeling, and words. But finally she could no longer hold her tongue. “Why are you doing this? Am I not another woman? How can you do this to another woman?”
Loreen did not respond, but did continue the slow whipping, about a stroke every ten or so seconds. A little later, as the second covering of the same area began, she again asked the same questions, “How can you do this to another woman? Doesn’t that mean something to you?”
“I am not allowed to talk,” Loreen said quietly. Then she would say nothing else. If she left any feelings about the pain she was causing another woman, she did not show them. The whipping continued.
Sometimes when the leather thongs hit right on a nipple or touched a more sensitive place between her legs, the Princess gasped aloud or winced. And she quickly found that fresh marks laid over prior ones hurt much worse. Her whole breasts were becoming vividly red, as was most of her front. She could take those strokes across her thighs and hips better than those across her breast, most women could. But as the strokes continued, and her skin became more and more sensitive, the pain increased.
There came a point where the once proud Princess could no longer hold in the tears.
Later, there came a point where she began to ask Loreen to stop this torture. Each new stroke, although delivered with a mild hand, hurt terribly because it was delivered to skin already marked and red and very, very sore.
It might have been an hour, it might have been two, time becomes meaningless when you’re suffering, but at some point the Princess could no longer take the ceaseless whipping of her body. With a high pitched scream, she began jerking her body back and forth in wild struggles against the ropes holding her prisoner. She cried and cursed and jerked and pulled at her limbs but only succeeded in hurting her wrists and ankles, and nearly jerking her own feet out from under her. It was a primitive reaction against the helplessness and pain, an emotional outburst from a woman pushed to her limits. Even as she struggled as wildly as her bonds permitted, the whipping continued.
There came a point where Loreen’s arms grew tired and she could hardly swing the small whip through the air. But she continued. About that point Princess Adrianne of Wolfhome, a hunt and war leader of her people, began to scream in earnest. Her skin had become so sensitive that the slightest touch of the leather thongs was pure agony. She cried between screams.
“Hold,” came the simple order. Neither woman had seen Shaden enter the chamber. The whip fell from fatigued fingers to the stone floor.
Shaden walked up to inspect the damage he had ordered. He noted the massive redness over most of her skin, and the tear tracks down both cheeks. Finally he stood back and regarded both women while stroking his beard slowly.
“I’ll bet that your arms are tired, slave Loreen,” he said finally. She did not answer since it was not a question, but her down turned eyes told all too plainly the truth of his guess. “Which is why I have brought you a replacement,” he continued grandly. “Slave Darlene!”
At his call a second woman entered. She was a little smaller than Loreen and had dirty blonde hair. But she was dressed in an identical manner, including two golden rings through the flesh of her nipples.
“You may continue the whipping,” Shaden informed the newcomer. The girl picked up the whip and positioned herself next to the bound woman with eyes open wide from fear. She swung the whip to place fresh pain upon a breast already screaming in agony. Princess Adrianne screamed and shook all over. But she could go nowhere and the whipping continued.
“Take your clothing off,” ordered Shaden to Loreen. The slavegirl immediately hooked thumbs through the waist band of the small bit of clothing she did have on and pushed it down her legs, and then off.
“Come here,” he ordered as he unzipped the front of his pants. A rigid male phallus sprang into view as if eager to get to its task. With little effort, Shaden picked up Loreen and lowered her upon his rod. The slavegirl widened her legs enough for this and held herself steady with hands upon his shoulders. His stiff rod found the sheath already juicy and slid in without very little resistance. A moan escaped from the slavegirl’s lips as the rod drove deep into her. It was all she was allowed to show of the great pleasure she felt inside. She wrapped her legs around his hips.
Shaden pushed forward until Loreen’s back was hard against the rough stone wall, then he pinned her arms to the wall with his hands upon her elbows, and proceeded to pump against her with long, hard strokes, each of which brought a gasp of pleasure to her lips.
Both the whipper and the whippee ignored the scene of sexual intercourse going on not four feet away. The Princess was weeping again and crying aloud with each stroke. The whipping continued long after Shaden and slave Loreen had left. It continued until a proud Princess ceased screaming, stopped even moaning, with each blow of the whip. She had been pushed to her limits and now knew a whole new dimension of pain far beyond what she had ever believed possible.
That night the Princess was hogtied tightly and laid upon a table covered with tiny rocks set into a plastic coating.
The effect was the same as would have been called “coarse grit sandpaper” on Earth a long time before. Ropes were attached to hold her down so she couldn’t roll off the table, and she was left for the night.
The Princess cried herself to sleep.