9 – Looking Like Real Slavegirls
The Port Inspector, a sour-faced Tribolian met me at the terminal to inform me that he had to inspect the ship before anyone could depart. The fact that I was already in the Administration Terminal didn’t seem to bother him at all, he simply told me to get back on the transport and he would inspect our ship. With a sigh I did just that. You don’t mess with Port Authorities. Not unless you want to find yourself locked away in some hidden jail and your ship confiscated.
Port Inspectors are mostly looking to make sure that you don’t bring on planet any life forms that might cause havoc and that no member of your crew or cargo are diseased. Beyond that, they don’t care much what you’re bringing in or doing on their world. At least on open worlds such as Wahoo, they don’t.
All the way back I was hoping that Captain Eddie wasn’t doing something stupid. Like having unlocked the girls and having tea with them.
We made our way to the forward section, the Inspector waving the scanner around like some priest blessing the ship. Just before we entered the crew compartment I heard a noise that came as a real surprise. It was the cry of a woman in distress. More precisely, the sharp cry of a woman in sudden and intense pain. We came to the door of the Wolfhome girl’s quarters and since it was open, could easily see what was causing the noise.
Fauna was not in her cell. Nor were her wrists still handcuffed behind her back. Instead she was standing outside her cell with her arms sticking back through the bars. I could see that her wrists were handcuffed on the outside, which effectively held the naked Amazon with her front pressed against the bars. Her ankles had been locked to bars at the floor level but only after being spread widely.
But what was most surprising was Captain Eddie standing behind Fauna. She was stripped to the waist and held one of the black leather whips in her hand. From the dozen or so marks criss-crossing Fauna’s bottom, it was obvious we were interrupting a serious whipping.
Without batting an eyelash, Eddie straightened up to attention and saluted me with the whip hand. Fauna was crying and didn’t turn around. The other two girls were still shackled and in their cells, I was glad to see.
“A little discipline?” I inquired as casually as I could.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, carry on.”
Eddie shifted her feet a little and suddenly that whip lashed out in a backhand cut across the flesh marked with fresh, angry welts. Then she cut back across the same territory with a vicious forehand. Fauna cried loudly and went rigid against the steel bars. Then she uttered a strangled little cry and shook her whole body, rattling the chains that joined her wrists together and ankles to the bars. It was an act of frustration, pain and anger, and she gained only chaffed wrists and ankles from fighting the hard steel.
Captain Eddie was not holding back and those cuts across naked flesh had to hurt something terrible.
The Inspector waved his scanner over each of the girls, Eddie, and the rest of the room, totally ignoring the whipping, also ignoring the topless Captain Eddie — a feat I was having trouble duplicating. Those were two of the finest female attributes I have ever seen. So round, so firm, so fully packed… I ached to reach out and touch them.
But instead I had to accompany the Inspector as he quickly checked the rest of the ship. Then he announced we were clean, and gave me a piece of paper to prove it. I thanked him, paid the Port Fees and suggested that he go ahead down to the transport, I would catch up with him a few seconds. As soon as he disappeared down ship, I was back in the girl’s cabin.
Just as I walked in, Eddie was delivering another of those hard strokes to Fauna’s marked up rear.
“You can stop now, he’s gone,” I said. “But it was a good show.”
Eddie tilted to one side and delivered a wicked slash upward across Fauna’s bottom. The warrior woman bit back a scream.
“I’m not doing this as a show for you or your Port Inspector,” Eddie informed me.
“When why?” I was puzzled.
“We talked about this,” said Thala from her cell. “And we all agreed that just being naked and in chains wasn’t enough to make us look like slavegirls. You saw those videos, most of those girls were marked up.”
“Well…” I couldn’t get much else out.
“So we asked Eddie to put some marks upon our persons, the kind of marks that a slave would received as part of her training or as discipline.”
I looked at Eddie, topless and still holding the whip. Then I looked at Fauna, chained in place and with a bottom slashed repeatedly with vivid red lines on swelling flesh that must have burned as if on fire. I was amazed. “1 guess that’s… logical,” was all I could say.
Eddie cut two more fresh lines across the backs of Fauna’s thighs, just below her ass. Then she put the whip down. Then she was unlocking Fauna’s ankles from the bars. As soon as the softly sobbing girl was free, she stood there with both hands upon burning ass cheeks and watched Eddie unlock her cell door. Then she went in, turned her back and presented her wrists for the handcuffs. When both her wrists and ankles were locked in steel again, and the cell door solidly locked in place, Eddie turned to Thala. Thala nodded to the unasked question and Eddie began unlocking the door to her cell.
“You’re not going to…” I began.
“It is necessary that we all look like slavegirls,” said Thala evenly.
There wasn’t much I could say after that. If my clients wanted to have their asses whipped until they couldn’t sit down, that was their business. At least it hadn’t been my idea. The day before the idea of marking up the girls a little bit had passed through my mind, but was hurried along its way since I figured suggesting exactly what was now being done would get my head ripped off by my Amazon clients.
“Don’t you have something important to do?” asked Eddie sternly. “Someplace else?”
I should have informed her that I was her boss, having been the one who chartered her ship, and I would stay to watch if I wanted to. But there was a look in her eye that I didn’t like and she was holding the whip. Besides Thala was giving me almost the same look and I knew that she would not always be chained up and naked. I took a last looked at the tears running down Fauna’s face as she pressed herself against the bars, and said my goodbye.
On the way to the terminal, I was busy wondering about the little scene I had just witnessed. Was it really all for show? They couldn’t have known that I was coming back with the Inspector unless Eddie was monitoring from the control room. And then she wouldn’t have had time to get to the girl’s cabin, relock Fauna in place, and deliver the dozen of so whipmarks that were already on her skin when I popped in.
And why was Eddie minus her blouse? Not that I was objecting, mind you. By the Great Horned Toad, I wasn’t complaining. I had been wondering what those large bulges under her clothing looked like when they were free to bounce around. The brief glimpse I had gotten when I stumbled upon the four of them playing lesbian games had only teased me for a good look. And, boy, was it worth it! But why? I guess I could say that it was because she expected to work up a sweat and didn’t want to soil her blouse. But somehow that explanation was a little weak. It seemed to me that she simply wanted to be half naked while she whipped three fully naked women. It sort of made sense. In an erotic sort of way.
I found myself hoping that among the cargo I was there to buy would be a nice looking slavegirl upon whom I might give vent to the lust those four sexy women generated in my loins. That little whipping scene had been incredibly erotic — much more so than I would ever have guessed. I was horny. And I couldn’t figure on any cooperation from those four in easing my suffering. Wondering what was going on back in that ship was making it hard for me to keep from getting an erection right there in the crowded terminal.
Tai Harra Shaden was a cruel man who loved to punish females more than most anything else in the universe. But a close second to that enjoyment was the ravishing of various parts of the female body to sate his sexual appetites. During the first part of a slavegirl’s training, he usually forgoes the pleasures of her body because it is deemed best that she endure only agony and suffering until her spirit is broken enough to make her docile. After that she can be trained to perform the sexual acts which will please her male owner. She will be trained to use every part of her body, all her skills and talents, to please a man. But up to that point the sexual pleasure she might derive from his use of her body would be an unscheduled and unwanted complication to her training.
Besides, there were always plenty of other enslaved female bodies around for him to satisfy his lust upon.
There came one night, after a long, hard day of training those difficult but so beautiful Wolfhome women, when the Princess Adrianne, now known only a slave Adrianne, was cleaned up, bound in a special way, and delivered to his quarters at a time when she would normally have been secured for the night in some stage of discomfort. Something different was about to happen and perhaps she sensed that it was a new stage in her training.
The naked slavegirl was first taken to the cleaning area where her first hot water bath in countless days had cleansed the grime of the torture chambers from her flesh and soothed a thousand aches from the torment inflicted upon her person. Another female slave was given the task of bathing the former Princess since her wrists remained shackled in steel as were her ankles. The water was warm, the soap perfumed and the feminine hands that sponged her body gentle. Even her hair was washed and then combed out.
The kind treatment did not boaster her spirits for she had come to expect only pain and suffering from this place. In fact, she thought little about what was happening to her. She was content that the pain had stopped for now but also certain that it would begin again when those who controlled her wished it. Had it not been that way for more days than she could remember?
When her body was cleaned and perfumed and her long raven hair combed until it shined, she was led to an adjoining chamber and delivered from the gentle feminine hands once again into hard male hands. The handcuff and leg-iron shackles were taken off, but the freedom lasted only a brief moment before her arms were gathered together behind her back and she felt the bite of thin cord upon her flesh. The wrists were corded very tightly. Then more cord looped around her elbows, pulling them to each other and digging deeply into the soft flesh just above them. A dozen times the cord was wrapped around her arms, then cinched down four times and knotted. She knew that she could not remove these cords by her own efforts, they were as carefully applied as all the cords and ropes and straps since the moment she had entered that horrible place.
Ready for her Master’s pleasure, she was taken to his bed chamber.
The room was large, flooded with harsh male symbols of the hunt and war, and dimly lit. Animal pelts provided both carpeting and bed covering. Wooden beams crossed the ceiling and the walls were of rough cut stone — it had been, after all, an ancient castle. The lighting was modern, as was the communications console on one table.
The Princess dully looked at the huge bed and knew it’s implications. But instead of horror at the idea of ravishment by a man she hated, instead of fear at the coming violation, she felt only a dull gratitude that the evening would bring her no more pain than that suffered by her corded arms. A lot of things no longer mattered as much to the still beautiful but not so proud woman. Her world had been simplified considerably. Now it was eating, sleeping when she could, and enduring pain.
Before the last guard left, he grabbed her chin roughly with one hand and ordered her to open wide her mouth. She obeyed, and he inserted a new, strange type of gag. It was a large metal ring covered with leather. Straps from it passed around her head to be buckled tightly behind. The metal ring was wedged behind her teeth and forced her mouth wide open in a circle as if she were saying “Oh!” Then she was ordered to kneel on the fur rug and stay. The guards left her there.
The Princess was aware of how wide open her mouth was held by that strange gag but really had no idea of its purpose. On her world, men were submissive and performed the sexual chores as best their diminutive bodies were able to. Some were quite good at pleasing their women with their hands and tongues, and such skill was prized since their male rods were hardly ever up to the task of really satisfying one of the Amazonian women. Never in her experience had the Princess ever considered that she might be called upon to please a man with her hands or anything else. Thus potential use of a mouth held wide open by such a gag did not occur to her.
It also didn’t seem worth the effort to move from her kneeling position, and punishment would surely come, so she remained kneeling on the fur, arms painfully bound behind her back, and mouth held open and inviting.
Shaden entered after ten minutes or so, apparently fresh from a shower after a hard day of torturing women. His long black hair was wet and stray drops still clung to his arms and legs. A large flame-red towel encircled his waist.
For a few moments the Princess knelt without looking up but when a pair of bare male legs came into her vision, she lifted her head. The male animal she beheld was not the meek men of her land. He was large, larger even than she, and muscular. Dark hair covered his legs and chest and arms, a thing never seen upon the men of Wolfhome.
With arrogance he looked down upon the naked woman.
He was pleased with what he saw. The arms were as he had ordered them, very tightly corded with the thin rope rather than the normal white cotton rope. She was hurting just from that cord, he knew. That was good, it would be a constant reminder of her status. The constriction of her elbows behind her made those already magnificent breasts stand out in proud display.
The ring gag was tightly strapped in place and wedged behind her teeth, it would not be moving. Which also pleased him.
With elaborate casualness, he removed the towel from his hips and tossed it into a comer. The rod revealed was already interested in the female flesh before it and pointed firmly at her eyes. The Princess swallowed as best she could. It would have taken half a dozen male rods from the men she had known massed together to equal the one weapon pointed at her now. Maybe more.
He stepped forward until the inside edge of his feet touched her bare knees on the fur. That rod now almost touched her nose and she shrink back in fear. “No you don’t,” he told her and grabbed her hair with one strong hand. “Hold still.”
The Princess closed her eyes as the rigid phallus approached her open mouth. She felt a sick feeling inside as the purpose of that gag now became apparent. This just wasn’t something a woman should have to do. It wasn’t right and every part of her wanted to scream.
But the thin cord welding her arms together behind her and the strength of this man told her another story. And, as it was always for her now, the memory of more pain than any girl can stand was not far from her thoughts. She could only close her eyes and pray that this terrible thing were not happening to her. Or that it would be quickly over.
The male flesh entered the soft, warm, moist cavity of her mouth and touched the top of her tongue. She tried to move it out of the way but there was no room. This horrible male spear filled her mouth. Soon it was touching the roof of her mouth as well as her tongue. The hand in her hair pulled and she found herself tilting her head upwards. Then the shaft was filling her mouth and she could do nothing to expel the invader.
“Just hold your head still,” he commanded. The hand holding her hair gave her little choice. She tried not to gag as the thing pushed its way in until it was touching the back of her mouth. This was horrible. She felt so very degraded and shamed that a man would do this to her. She wanted to cry.
Then the invader began to withdraw and hope sprang up within her only to be dashed as he ceased its retreat only to shove it in again, and farther than before. The Princess frowned and instinctively bit down hard upon the metal ring. But her jaw was held open. The rape of her mouth continued and all she could do was keep her eyes closed so she didn’t have to see the dark male hair inches from her eyes. Her fingers fluttered uselessly.
“You can see why it’s called a training gag,” he said between moans of pleasure. “A slave cannot hurt her Master with an accidental — or deliberate — bite. Oh, this is nice, bitch. Your mouth feels nicer than most women’s cunts.”
The Princess cringed within at both his continued screwing of her virgin mouth, and his coarse and insulting language. Suddenly she began to wonder if he intended to continue this until he… Until he… She didn’t want to think about it. Having her mouth used as a vagina was bad enough, but if he were to shoot his sperm into her was something too terrible to even think about.
The slavemaster seemed in no hurry to complete the sexual act with a gushing forth of his fluid. The slow in and out movement continued, apparently giving him much pleasure. Princess Adrianne had nothing to do but kneel there and endure.
After a few minutes she began to feel strange. This was a most horrible violation of her person, and yet… Yet there was some strange kind of sensation within the beautiful woman, something she didn’t understand. Then, with a shock, she realized that there was a warmth between her legs, a warmth she usually only felt when touched there by another woman. It was accompanied by a general tingling of nerves all over her body. “NO!” she screamed to herself. “Don’t do that!” But it was no use telling her body to deny and ignore what was instinct. There was something strangely akin between this violation of her mouth and the same act being performed in its proper place in her sex. For a brief instant she found herself wishing that this huge weapon were in her vagina instead of where it happily played. But she cast that thought out. She had been raped by this man the first day she was there and she no desire for a repeat of disgusting act.
Or did she? That warmth between her legs was growing to a heat and the memory of that huge tool in her sheath was coming back. It was almost as if her body welcomed the memory but her mind rejected it.
Then the idea of offering her body for normal sex came to her mind. Certainly it would be better than this degrading act. Certainly he would prefer that natural act to this abnormal one.
But the slavegirl could not offer that suggestion to her Master. Her mouth was filled and words were not available to her. Kneeling as she was with arms bound behind her, she was even denied the age-old gesture of opening her legs in invitation. She could do nothing but await the next act in this play and fear that it would be most unpleasant.
He did not climax within her mouth although to do so would have been easy and certainly most pleasurable. Instead he withdrew his sword from this wonderfully warm and moist female sheath before instinct ran its full course.
The Princess moaned and leaned forward for just a second as if her mouth were trying to follow the phallus. She was breathing hard and her eyes were still closed.
Shaden stepped back and then ordered her to stand up. There was a grin on his face. She opened her eyes and stood awkwardly. She found herself staring at his rigid rod still glistening from her mouth. Strange emotions churned within her, loathing and craving both at the same time. She tried to push down all feelings.
Shaden propped up his pillow and lay down on the bed. He crossed his ankles and pointed to the rod sticking straight up. “Come over here,” he ordered. “Bend over and use your mouth on it.”
The Princess frowned. There had been a time when she would have had this man, or any man, killed for such an order. But now she walked on unsteady legs to the edge of the bed. His rod eagerly stood at attention. She looked up at her owner. Should she plead? Maybe offer him her vagina? The idea of crawling up on the bed, straddling his legs and lowering her sex down over his rod flashed into her mind. But she was afraid. She had not been ordered to do that. Would she be punished if she tried? What ten minutes before had been unthinkable was now something she wanted with a longing that surprised her.
She bent forward at the waist. Her open mouth descended until the soft, red lips encircled the male member. Then she leaned a little more and felt it slide easily into her mouth. When it filled her mouth she halted.
“Deeper,” came the command. She knew what it meant and hated it. But there was the fear of what might be done to her if she refused. And a strange feeling of acceptance she did not understand. If she must do it, then she must. It was not an idea worthy of a Princess but it was the way she felt. She leaned over a bit more and felt the smooth head of his rod press against the back of her mouth.
“Better, better. Now work your mouth up and down. You know what I want.”
She knew. She closed her eyes and began bobbing her head up and down, sliding her mouth over the rod. And feeling the smooth head of it tease the roof of her mouth.
This is wrong, she told herself. But she was sliding her head up and down in a smooth, regular motion. She heard him moan with pleasure and felt a perverse sense of pride that she could do that to a man. Then she halted with his rod half way down. She ran her tongue around the smooth, rounded end, teasing it and stroking the hard flesh. She didn’t think about what she was doing, something instinctual took over and she was teasing it, licking it and then sucking gently. Then she was pumping her mouth around his tool. She felt it grow even more rigid and she sped up.
With a sudden growl his arm pushed her from the bed. She staggered backward. The naked man leaped from the bed, grabbed her shoulders roughly and then turned her around. She felt herself falling backwards and then bouncing on the fur covered bed. A second later his body was on hers, his legs forcing her legs apart. She opened them willing. Then he was shoving his rod deep into her vagina. She gasped, then moaned loudly and closed her eyes. It felt so good that she didn’t even pause to wonder why her sheath was so very juicy.
The ride was hard and fast, and ended with a loud cry of triumph from the man. The Princess felt his body go rigid and the rod bury itself as deeply into her as it could. Then there was a warm, strange feeling as he injected his fluid into her. She tasted something metallic and whined. A second later she was gasping as her body exploded into sheets of fire and brilliant dancing lights.
Later, much later, the Princess Adrianne contemplated what had happened to her that night. No man had ever made her feel so incredibly alive and excited. She didn’t even know a man could do that to a woman. And no woman had every brought her to such an intense orgasm, skilled as her lovers were.
She had no idea how long she had drifted along in the warm, wonderful aftermath of that orgasm, but it must have been a time. She opened her eyes sleepily to see a flickering yellow light from a large candle on a table in the comer. She moaned as she tried to shift her weight and found that her arms were still tightly bound with that wickedly thin cord. In addition, she found that her legs had been tied with the same stuff, both at her ankles and above her knees. She rolled from her side onto her stomach to see if she could ease the ache in her arms. As she did, she felt a strain on her ankles and the cords around her legs above the knees. Apparently they were tied together. It wasn’t a hogtie, but it did keep her from bending forward at the waist, and pulled gently on he arms as she lay face down. She ignored that little discomfort — it was so much less than the ache in her arms and shoulders.
Turning her head, she found the naked male body of Shaden laying on the bed beside her. She should have been disgusted by the very idea of sharing a bed with the man who had caused her so much pain, but she was not. Instead there was a pleasant feeling that the male body which had given her so much pleasure was near her now. If her arms had not been tightly corded behind her, she could have reached out and placed her hand upon the hairy and muscular thigh. She found a strange desire to do exactly that.
It would have been nice, she thought to herself, if he had untied me before falling asleep. Or taken that damned ring gag out of my mouth. Those simple actions would have saved her considerable pain during the night. Yet is was also only proper that he should make certain this slavegirl was totally helpless as she lay in bed with him. If he had freed her arms there would be no telling what she might do while he slept. Same with her legs, it would not take much effort for a large, strong woman such as this female warrior from Wolfhome to harm his with a solid kick. And with that ring forcing her mouth wide open, there was no damage she could do with her teeth. So she was left bound hand and foot and gagged, no danger to him as he slept.
And oddly, that seemed somehow only proper to Princess Adrianne.
She rested her body as best she could on the soft fur and closed her eyes. In the morning her Master awoke her by rolling her body over onto the aching, bound arms, straddling her body on his knees, and then raping her open mouth as any dominant male might rape a female vagina. He thrust hard and deep into her mouth, and when he spurted his seed into her, she swallowed every bit of it.
A couple hours after he left her, a guard came to peel the cords from her flesh and remove a ring gag from a dry mouth and a jaw that ached terribly. Then her wrists and ankles were locked in shining steel shackles and she was marched off for her cold water spray shower and meager breakfast. And then a day of torment as her training continued.
10 – Slave Market
The slave market on Wahoo wasn’t what I had expected at all. There should have been a wooden block for the slavegirl to stand on, iron shackles confining her wrists and ankles, and perhaps a heavy iron collar with connecting chains all around. The place should have stone walls with iron rings set in them, iron bars on the door, and the wooden block worn by the tread of thousands of bare slave feet. The man doing the auction should have been an oily Arab in a dirty white robe-like garment, with a black beard and dark eyes. And he should have carried a whip with which to tap the slavegirl to make her turn around that she might show off her assets.
Well, that’s what I saw in one of those old, old “movies.” Instead the room was large, well-lit, and had perhaps two hundred comfortable seats, like a lecture hall. The stage was not a wooden block, and the auctioneer was not out of a costume drama from a thousand years back. He was a painfully plain human wearing a business suit.
The only part that was at all close to what it should be was the fact that the slaves all had their wrists locked in shining steel handcuffs behind their backs. I guessed that was to keep them from covering the good parts.
My other disappointment was that the slave up on the stage when I walked in wasn’t a beautiful, sexy young female. Not even pretty. Not sexy. And not even female. I’ll admit that the guy standing there was a good specimen, all muscles and such, but hardly my idea of sexy. So I shoved my hands in my pockets to make sure that a casual and innocent gesture didn’t buy me something I didn’t want.
The bidding was brisk, and I noted that easily half the bids came from men in the audience. Yes, there were females and it wasn’t surprising. In fact, it was one of the females who held out the longest and was won the hunk up on the stage. I hoped she would be happy with her purchase.
The audience only filled a quarter of the seats and was a really mixed crowd, including some non-humans. Which made me wonder if non-humans were also sold here. The idea of a human, male or female, being bought and owned by one of those six foot tall cockroaches from Quella made my skin crawl. The next slave up on the block was also human and also very much male. So much so, in fact, that the sight of his rather limb yet really huge tool evoked a twitter of excitement among some of the female bidders. I wondered if they really knew what they were getting into, what with my mental guess at how large it would get when aroused. Then I remembered that there were a couple worlds where men were bred for their sexual prowess and attributes.
But this wasn’t what I had come for. I turned to the person two seats over, a Harconian to judge by the orange and red stripped robe, pink slippers, purple spotted fez, and vomit green scarf. They must all be color blind, I thought. “When do they put on the girls?” I asked him.
He turned a cocked eyebrow in my direction and pointed with a limp wrist to a small folder attached to the back of the seat in front of me. Maybe they’re not color blind, after all. Maybe they like those colors. He went back to studying the male before us with a haughty eye.
There was a program in the folder, written in a dozen major languages. From it I learned that I was only five minutes away from the beginning of the female portion of the auction, and that this lot considered of a hundred and six females, all human, all in prime condition. Apparently the male lot ran over because it was more like half an hour before the first female appeared, during which time the Harconian bid on two males and bought the last one offered. The Harconian seemed pleased but the guy on the stage looked shocked to see who (or what) had bought him.
In the short pause between lots, I read the rest of the program and found that photos and details were available by pressing a small square on the page. I did and the page sort of shimmered and the letters squirmed around until they formed a menu. I pressed the button for females and was rewarded with a new menu breaking down the lot by category. It’s amazing what one can do with micro computers embedded in a thick sheet of paper. I debated over the first choice: trained, raw or mixed. I picked trained. Thirty or so small photos appeared, each with a couple short lines of information, including price. It was then I discovered why slavery was such a big business. A well trained girl was expensive. Only a few of the starting bids were within the range of the one Flame Gem I had sold and what we had allowed for this part of the rescue mission. I could have gone back to the ship and gotten the Wolfhome girls to fork over with another of those flame gems, but that would delay things. And, besides, the extra few girls I was here to get were only for show, trappings to make me look like a serious slaver and get us onto Kronos.
For that purpose I didn’t need trained slavegirls. Too bad, I thought. Visions of a luscious, curvy, eager to please her Master slavegirl had entertained my thoughts for the last few days. It was so frustrating living in a small star ship with four lovely women who didn’t want to have anything to do with me.
I backed up and pressed the “Raw” icon. A noticeably larger list appeared, but at least the starting bids were much more reasonable. I recalled from the videos that Grayscalp provided that buying a raw slavegirl is cheaper because you were taking a chance. A percentage were never trainable, or provided to be poor slaves. And that it was not as easy to train a girl as most people thought. Well, that’s fine, I figured. I would just keep them chained up and not worry about training them. Probably I would sell them when we got to Kronos, just to show that I really was a slaver.
Still, it might be possible to get at least one pretty one. A pretty, sexy one. A very pretty, very sexy one. Since they were only cargo, the Wolfhome girls couldn’t object to my “fraternizing” with the merchandise, could they?
Well… They could and probably would. Those three woman didn’t seem too hot on the whole idea of females being owned as slaves. Some kind of cultural bias, I guess.
Looking over the tiny pictures, I realized that it wouldn’t be too hard to pick a pretty one, they all were. Some of them were downright gorgeous. They ran from short to tall, skinny to pleasingly plump, from the lightest blonde to midnight black hair, and everything in between. I made check marks next to half a dozen of the ones that seemed pretty and wouldn’t start at too high a price. It just happens that all those I picked had the same large but firm looking breasts, slender waists and athletic legs. Well, what’s wrong with picking what I like?
I could tell you a long story about how the fierce the bidding was, my gallant attempts to procure good quality merchandise for my employers, and the heart break of seeing a gorgeous female slip away to someone else with just a little more money. What I will say is that for some reason the bidding was less vigorous on some girls, and I managed to purchase two that seemed like pretty good merchandise to me, although the bidding wasn’t vigorous on them.
One was a young blonde on the short side but with a fine figure. She looked very nervous up there with and I sort of felt sympathetic towards her. The other was a redhead with very long hair falling all the way to her rear in back and a very defiant glow in her eyes. Might be trouble, I told myself, but there was something about the idea of owning an honestly wild, untamed woman that appealed to me. Besides, I had to outbid a slinky woman dressed in shimmering black with a clutch of diamonds around her slender throat. It was fun watching the faint snarl of defeat on her lips when my bid topped her limit.
I picked up the paper work and arranged for the transfer of funds in a smaller room next door. All that finished, the clerk asked me how I would like them, delivered or take out?
Not wanting to appear the amateur I was, I pretended to ponder the question for a second then told him to deliver them to my ship. I gave him the berth number of the Golden Girl. Then he asked me what type of delivery. “What do you have?” I replied.
“Three levels: light, medium and max security,” he said.
I avoided having to ask him the difference by simply announcing that max security would suite me, figuring that it was better to be safe than sorry. He nodded and keyed in my choice and that was that.
I spent the next couple hours treating myself to a really fine lunch at one of the many first class restaurants around the auction halls. Slavers like to eat well and have the money to pay for the best, I concluded. Then I strolled through some shops offering the latest in restraints, whips, slave clothing, and punishment devices — which filled my eager mind with exciting ideas.
I bought a few small goodies; a pair of nipple clamps made of lightest titanium, a slender steel collar covered in black leather with a built in lock they keyed to open only by the touch of my finger, and a thing called a “trainer gag.” The last item was a metal ring with strap. The illustration show how it fitted into a slavegirl’s mouth and held her jaw open. The ring was large enough to allow access to her mouth. Which sent terrible but exciting visions were racing through my mind. I decided to hide that gag from the girls. They might not approve of something so obviously intended to allow a man to force his unwanted attentions upon a poor, innocent, and helpless female. Pant, pant, pant….
Back at the ship all was quiet. I heard the sound of music from the control room and figured Eddie was up there. Dropping off my purchases in my cabin, I then set out to inspect the three Amazons. They didn’t look much like Amazons. Captain Eddie had been busy while I was gone. Each of the three had vivid marks across their bottoms. I had to suck in my breath when I saw that each girl also had a couple cuts across those magnificent breasts. I hadn’t expected Eddie to go that far but also had to admit that the girls now looked more like slaves. Each eyed me but said nothing. I noticed the dried tear stains on their cheeks but said nothing. You had to admire women who would go through that for their Princess.
I informed them that I had purchased two additional slavegirls and we would be leaving as soon as they were delivered. The girls said nothing. They looked hurt but still determined to see this through.
An hour later my purchases were delivered.
I had expected someone to come walking up to the ship with the two slavegirls in tow, perhaps chained together by collars around their necks and the end of the chain in the hand of the man delivering them. He would hand me the chain, ask me to record my thumb print to show I had received the merchandise, and then leave. Instead two metal boxes were unloaded from the transport and delivered to the cargo port. I was there and did have to thumb print for them but was a little shaken up. One box was a little larger than the other, but both were just the size you’d expect if they held a female slave. This is if she were kneeling down and bent over until her head touched her knees.
Each box was locked with a touchpad that would respond only to my touch. I opened the smaller box first, rather eagerly, I’ll have to admit. This boxing of the slaves was unexpected but sort of added a nice touch to the proceedings. I mean, I did ask for maximum security, after all. What better way to assure a slavegirl doesn’t try to get away then to have her locked inside a box.
As the lid came up, I discovered what better way there was. It was the blonde girl, as I expected, but I had not expected that she would be both naked and tightly bound within her metal prison. She was kneeling in the box, and she was bent over, but her arms were behind her bent back and bound with rope. Rather tightly, too, with the elbows together. I could just see additional rope around her legs just above her knees. I suspected that there was also rope around her ankles for I could see two lengths coming up her bottom to her wrists.
I went to lift her out of the box only to find that there was a collar on her neck and that collar was tied to the ropes around her knees. I undid it and she slowly straightened up.
It was then that I found she had been gagged and blindfolded with a leather strap device that held a large solid plastic ball in her mouth and had straps going around her head and even under her chin. It formed a harness that encircled her whole head and held the gag and blindfold in place quite well.
Responding to my touch on her shoulders, she rose up until she was upright but still on her knees. Then I noted that the rope I saw tied to her wrists did indeed go down to her ankles. I untied it and pulled her from the box to set her on her feet. She was wobbly and I had to steady her for a while until her legs could take her weight. While one hand held her arm, the other was unstrapping the harness on her head. The gag came out with a plop sound followed by a moan. She worked her jaw a bit then looked into my eyes with those soft, violet eyes of hers. I could tell she was wondering what kind of Master had bought her. And with more than a little fear in her eyes.
“Have you been in that crate long?” I asked, suspecting that she had been from the way her legs had trouble supporting her.
Her voice was low and soft, just like the lovely, soft golden hair that framed a very pretty face. Not as downright beautiful as the Wolfhome girls, nor the same as Captain Eddie, but very pleasing to look up. “I was bound and put in there right after being taken off the stage,” she said.
I noted that even though she was scared, she spoke evenly and with intelligence. “Ropes hurt?” I asked.
She gave me a funny look. “Yes, they do.”
“We’ll get them off after I get you in your cell. Why are you looking at me that way?”
“You’re the first man who’s asked me if the restraints hurt. Or even if I were comfortable. Since I was kidnapped, that is.”
“Raiders?” I asked. She nodded. “Not too uncommon. They jump into a system without any real planetary defenses to speak of, steal a few girls, and then jump out.”
“I had heard of slavers before,” she said, pausing to look me up and down. “But didn’t think such a thing could ever happen to me.”
“It happens,” I offered. I suppose I should have felt bad that I was one of those terrible slavers — at least playing the part of one. But, strangely enough, I didn’t. It was simply part of life, especially out on the galaxy rim where there was very little law and order.
“If I untie your legs, will you come along peacefully?”
“On the ship I was kept hogtied for almost a day. In the slave holding center I was kept handcuffed on both wrists and ankles all the time. Aren’t you afraid that I’ll try to run away?”
“No.”
She looked towards the large cargo hatch (which I had closed before I opened the box) and sighed. “You’re right,” she said. “There’s no where to go. This whole planet is filled with slave catchers, slave traders, and slaves. Where would I go? And with my arms tied behind me?”
“Sensible. If you’ll sit on the edge of the box there, I’ll untie your legs.”
As I worked, she seemed puzzled. “You don’t sound like a slaver. They don’t care if I’m hurting or not. Most of them don’t say a word to a slave unless it’s to give an order.”
That rang alarm bells in my head. I would have to be careful to be more in character. Might not be so important with one of the slavegirls but if I didn’t come across like a real slaver, it could mean the end of all of us. I finished the ropes on her legs and stood up. “Get up!” I ordered.
She rose to her feet. I grabbed her bare arm just below the ropes around her elbows and pushed her towards the passage. She walked meekly towards a fresh captivity. We were almost to her cell when it occurred to me that she hadn’t even asked what was going to become of her. Seemed to me that would be the first question on any slavegirl’s mind.
Her cell was one of three we had built in a cabin almost as big as that shared by the Wolfhome girls. Only when she was inside and I was standing in the doorway, blocking her escape route, did I untie the ropes around her arms. I noted how deeply the cords had cut in as I peeled them from her soft flesh. The marks left were red and held the pattern of the rope. I made a mental note to remember that was how to duplicate that bondage when I had to keep a slave well restrained by ropes.
Oddly I was reluctant to untie her arms. All the way up to that cabin I was very much aware that I held a naked, very pretty and sexy young woman, but most of all, that her arms were tightly bound behind her, making her almost completely helpless. It was a pleasurable feeling for me. And rather exciting, too.
A voice behind me startled me just as I was taking off the last loop from her wrists.
“So that’s the new cargo?” Captain Eddie came around to view the naked woman I had just freed while I tossed the ropes outside the cell and picked up the pair of handcuffs I had prepared before. I waited to lock them on those slender wrists before replying.
“One of them. The other is still in the shipping crate down in the cargo bay.”
“Shipping crate? This I gotta see!”
She turned and was gone before I could tell her that she would see only the crate. Unlocking it was a privilege reserved for my right index finger. I locked leg-irons on the bare ankles and backed out. The cell door shut with a small metallic clang and a snick sound as the lock bolt shot in.
My first slave purchase was looking over her shoulder at the handcuffs, then down at the leg-irons. She didn’t seem overly concerned at her restrictions, but then I figured she was used to that by now. And if she were going to stay a slave for the rest of her life (there’s very little chance for promotion, you know), she had better get used to them.
I was about to turn and leave when a idea occurred to me. “What’s your name?” I asked. Then added roughly, “Slave!”
She looked up with that lovely puzzled look on her face. “Michelle. Michelle Tanya Porter.” She paused then added, “You know you’re the first person in two weeks to ask me what my name is. The rest didn’t care.”
“Well, I can’t keep calling you slave number four, can I?”
“They did. I was number 488-C-55.”
“I will call you slave Michelle.” Quickly I added, “It’s easier to remember.”
“Yes, Master.”
It was the first time I heard her call me that and it sent a thrill down my spine. All the way down to the cargo bay I was wondering if I could manage to keep her after this job was over. After all, it would be a real shame to sell her to some cruel master.
Maybe, just maybe the sight of that lovely pair of breasts sticking right out was messing up my hormones. Or something. I had to admit that tying a girl’s elbows together behind her certainly improved her… ah, appearance.
I walked into the cargo bay just in time to see Eddie kick the metal box containing my other slave girl. Apparently she had tried to get it open and failed. With mock ritual and ceremony I walked over to the box, pointed my finger in the air, waved it in a circle ending on the touch pad. The lid popped open an inch. Eddie was immediately lifting it all the way up.
The other girl, the redhead who looked defiant up on the auction block, was inside, bound the same as Michelle had been. I heard Eddie suck in air at the sight of tightly corded arms and the leather harness tightly buckled around the red hair. I showed her how the rope connected her collar to her knees, and then how to untie the wrists from the ankles. She weighted more than Michelle, and it was a bit more strain to lift this girl out of the box but I managed. Even with the tight ropes that held her prisoner and must have caused her pain, or at least discomfort, her eyes still blazed in resentment at both of us. I closed the lid and sat her down on the box. Then I stood back with Eddie to admire the package. I was more than a little proud to have brought back such a fine looking woman. She wasn’t the same as Eddie but at least her equal when it came to looking sexy —- in a wild, primitive way. And this one had a fire that made something exciting stir within me. I could well imagine that if those ropes were to drop off, she would leap through the air to attack us, clawing and hissing like a wild animal. What a contrast to Michelle!
I glanced over at Eddie and could see the same thoughts flickering behind her eyes. Then the tip of her tongue parted those lush red lips and slowly, sensually passed from one side to the other. I was sure that Eddie wasn’t even aware she was licking her lips over this choice morsel.
For some stupid reason I was jealous. I had picked this one and figured that made her mine. Well, sort of. Besides Eddie was playing lesbian nibble games with my three clients, and how many girlfriends did she need, anyway?
I knelt down and untied the rope from around the ankles but left the rope above her knees. As soon as the last loop was off her feet, she tried to kick me in the face. Fortunately I was expecting something like that and moved aside easily. It helped that her knees were still bound together.
I double up the rope I had just taken from her ankles, and doubled it twice more until I had a bunch of rope about a foot and a half long. Holding that rope in one hand, I grabbed her bound elbows with the other and lifted her from the box. As soon as she was standing, I shifted my grasp to her wrists and lifted them as high as I could. The young woman bent forward at the waist as her arms went up behind her, just as I wanted. Then, with all my strength, I lashed the bunched up rope across the bare ass. It wasn’t as good as a whip but it stung enough to get her attention. There was a muffled gasp from behind the ball gag and a jerk of her body. I let go of her wrists and allowed her momentum to carry her off balance and down to the floor. Without her hands to brace herself, the girl more or less hit flat on her big breasts and face. I gave her bound knees a little shove with my foot.
“Get to your feet!” I commanded as I motioned with my free hand. “Or I’ll go and get a real whip.”
The redhead glared up at me but there was just the slightest trace of fear in her eyes as she looked to the rope in my hand. The rear I had just struck was covered with whip marks, some old, some fresh. Apparently she was no stranger to being punished and the kiss of the whip.
Eddie was looking at me with surprise on her face, so I stepped a little closer to her and whispered, “I have to play the part. Besides, you don’t have any handling problems with the cargo, do you?”
She gave me a look that was a cross between resentment and admiration. Then she looked back down at the naked woman struggling to regain her feet without the use of hands and with knees still bound together. What she did next surprised me. She slowly held out her hand, palm up before me. It took a moment to realize she was asking me for the bunched rope in my hand. I gave it to her, fascinated to see what she would do with it.
The slavegirl had not managed to get to her feet although I had the feeling she was sincerely trying to. Eddie took one step over and brought the ropes down across the woman’s breasts in a hard, vicious slash. Rope doesn’t hurt anything like a whip but it was enough to string pretty good and no woman likes to be whipped across her breasts. That brought a little more fear to her eyes.
Eddie turned and tossed me the rope. “I’m going to get a real whip,” she said roughly. “Slaves aboard this ship obey or suffer.”
I hoped the slavegirl didn’t see the look of astonishment on my face as Eddie grandly strode out. Then my surprise turned to a grin as I realized that the luscious and very desirable Captain Eddie Wilks enjoyed hurting other women. That or she had one hell of a mean streak in her. The whipping of the Wolfhome girls took on new meaning when viewed in that light. Maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been totally their own idea.
I was torn between wanting to leave the girl on the floor to see what Eddie would do when she got back, and a desire to help the girl up so I could get her safely locked in her cell and all of us on our way. The slavegirl solved the problem for me. While I debated, she had managed to get her knees under her and was kneeling with her head against the floor. She eased herself backwards until she was sitting on her folded legs. Then she sort of crawled over to the nearby wall and put her head against it. By pushing with her feet and bracing her forehead against the wall, she managed to straighten herself up just as Eddie was coming back. With a small braided leather whip in her hand, I noted.
If she was disappointed to see the girl no longer on the floor, she didn’t show it. She merely pointed back down the corridor and barked, “Move your ass, slave!” The girl had to take short steps because of her knees still being bound, but she made the best time she could. Eddie walked along behind her, twice applying the whip to the flanks of the redhead when her speed was not fast enough to suit Eddie. I think she would have preferred to cut that thong across the bottom but the girl’s hands hung there.
When we reached the cabin set aside for the extra cargo, she roughly shoved the new slavegirl into her cell and slammed the door. Calmly placing the whip on a hook, Eddie made a show of brushing imaginary dust off her hands. “I would suggest you leave her bound for a few hours before putting on the shackles,” she told me. “Just a suggestion, of course, Slavemaster.”
I liked the title. I also admit guilt to feeling a sense of power and erotic thrill at the little scene. Being a Slavemaster was fun!
“Fine. But I’ll punish her later for trying to kick me,” I replied. Got to stay in character, you know.
Eddie nodded and left. I glanced at the two new females of the Golden Girl and sighed contentedly. Things were definitely looking better and better.
Back in the control room, Eddie was busy at the main computer console, probably plotting our course for Kronos. I could have gone off to read a book, take a cold shower, or maybe even get to know that cute little slave Michelle better. But I couldn’t resist one last dig at the Captain’s display of sternness against another woman. “I’m surprised you didn’t hang her upside down and whipped her all over her naked body,” I said with a grin.
Eddie paused in her keying. “That would be silly,” she said evenly. “She hasn’t done anything to deserve that… Yet.”
I swear she was licking her lips as she said that.