Cori had gone from crew on a rusting freighter, to sex slave to brutal
pirates to member of the pirate's crew, but now a new, sadistic captain
was determined to put her back where she belonged, on her back with her
legs spread. Whether she liked it or not.
The bridge was quiet for long minutes. Then a small alarm lit on the
security panel. Masquez turned from his console. "Fight of some kind in
Engineering. Mr. Jessop's dead."
He shrugged and exchanged significant looks with Rawlings.
Cori felt the blood drain from her face. Her eyes remained on the scan
screens but she saw nothing. Wayne would be captain. There was no longer
the slightest doubt. Would he decide she was too valuable as a
scan-tech, the best scan-tech Panther had had in twenty years, to play
his games with?
As a new captain he would not want to anger his officers, most of whom
would be more than a little upset if their bedmate were damaged. He
would have enough to occupy his time dealing with Panther and her crew.
Parnel returned to the bridge an hour later.
"Time to cast your votes, boys."
One by one the rest of the bridge crew went to Parnel's desk and cast
their votes while he ostentatiously looked the other way. She wondered
if any of them were child enough to believe he and Wayne would not know
exactly who had voted for who.
"Come on, Billings, get your ass over here," he called finally.
"Pass," she said.
"You don't pass on a transfer vote," he said coldly.
She took her headset off slowly, then pushed her chair aside and stood
up. None of them knew, she was sure, about her enmity for Wayne.
Hopefully Wayne didn't know either. She crossed to Parnel's station and
voted - for Wayne.
A half hour later Wayne was officially Panther's new captain. There was
no word on what had happened to Grover, but Cori had detected a brief
but significant rise in oxygen bleed not long after he had been taken
from the bridge. She guessed he was "resting" some parsecs behind them.
There were some grumblings from the crew over the following two days.
Many felt Wayne had fixed the voting, but they were not sure. They were
old hands, and would not act unless they were sure.
Nothing changed for Cori, at first. But three days later Wayne called
her into his cabin. The debris which had filled it during Grover's final
months had been cleared away, including the stim burner. Wayne was
sitting behind the desk, working, and looked up only long enough to
motion her to halt just inside the door. She stood still for several
minutes, knowing Wayne was up to his old tricks, trying to unsettled
her. She did her best to appear completely uncaring.
More minutes passed. She kept her face bland, her hands behind her back.
She managed not to shift her weight impatiently or make any other sign
she had better things to do. Her legs were starting to cramp by the time
Wayne finally looked up from his console again, and gave her a brief
smile. "Oh, you can strip now," he said, waving a hand casually.
She stripped as quickly as possible, dropping the clothes aside, then
waited as he returned to his work. The cramps in her legs crew worse and
her back began to ache as she stood just inside the door.
He looked up again, and smiled, then sat back in his chair, tapping his
forehead with a data wand.
"Billings. What should I do with you?" he asked.
"I don't know what you mean, captain," she said.
"Come here. Wait!" He held up his hand to halt her. "Crawl."
She kept her face neutral as she dropped to her hands and knees and
started forward.
"No, on your belly."
She felt a little dagger of pure hate inside her, but smothered it. She
would show no weakness. He would grow bored and find some other sport.
She crawled forward awkwardly, wriggling along the deck until she
reached the desk, then moved around it to halt at his feet. His boot
came down on the back of her neck, pinning her face against the deck.
"Do you remember those first days when you were brought aboard, Panther,
Billings?"
"Yes... sir," she gasped.
"You were good for ship's moral, Billings. I think it might be a good
idea if you returned to your old duties for a while."
"Yes, sir," she said weakly. "Who will you replace me with at scan
first, sir?"
"Ahh, yes, scan first. You are very good with your little toys, aren't
you? I mean, we probably wouldn't have even seen that Imperial ship if
it hadn't been for you rebuilding the system as you have. Fortunately,
with the scan system rebuilt and operating so nicely we don't really
need you to tease and play with it. I'm sure Ricci can handle it."
He eased his boot off, and a moment later his fingers were tangled in
her hair. He pulled her roughly up to her knees and forward so her face
was in his groin.
"Grover was an idiot," he said in a conversational tone. "He might have
forgotten how you came aboard, but I haven't. He might have fallen for
your act... but I won't."
"I... don't know what you're talking about, sir!"
"Of course you do. I know everything that goes on aboard Panther,
Billings. I've always known everything that goes on aboard Panther. Do
you think you can do anything without my finding out? Do you think every
crewman and coolie doesn't make note of you every time they see you? I
know where you go, I know what you do, and I know what you say."
"I.. haven't done anything," she gasped.
He laughed and flung her backwards. She hit the bulkhead, and cried out
in pain as her hip and shoulder flared with pain.
Wayne rose lazily and crossed the deck to where she lay. She looked up
at him anxiously, panting, then cried out as he gripped her hair and
dragged her to her feet. He twisted her around, his arm going around her
throat, and pinned her body against his as he jerked up on her hair,
directing her gaze to the corner of the room.
"Recognize it, Billings? Isn’t it lovely?"
It was the shock booth, and she felt sweat bead on her forehead.
"I had it altered, just for you, Billings. Do you see the alteration?"
The booth was the size of an upright coffin, with a thick plastisteel
front hatch. It was soundproof, but had an intercom for communication.
Or in Wayne’s case so he could listen to the screams.
"I-I didn’t do anything," she gulped.
He pushed her to the booth and swung open the door. Now she saw the
addition, an upright metal bar in the centre of the booth.
"For you, Billings," he crooned into her ear.
Cori fought down panic, biting her tongue to keep from begging. He loved
begging. If she showed fear or pain he’d keep her in here forever. She
could survive a little trip to the shock booth. Other crewmen had.
"Looks like fun," she said, her voice barely wavering.
He chuckled.
"Then get in," he said.
He shoved her and she caught the rim of the booth, then turned around to
face him. Steeling her face, she backed in, the cold, steel metal bar
pressing up between her buttocks. She forced a smile, and looked up into
the booth, then reached up and caught at a crossbar. Her muscles bunched
as she pulled, lifting herself off her feet. She straddled the bar and
sank down, feeling the thick coldness press against her hairless sex.
She always kept a small trace of lubrication just within her sex lips in
case of hard use. Now she let the metal sink into her and rolled her
hips tauntingly at him.
"This is gonna be fun," she said with a smirk.
He smirked back.
She let the lubrication oil up the top of the bar then sank slowly down,
biting back a grunt at its thickness as it slowly pushed up into her
soft, tight sleeve.
"Ricci can’t man the scan nearly as well as I can," she said. "He’s lazy
and sloppy. Even with my system he’d not have seen that empire ship."
"Down, Billings," he growled.
She sank deeper, feeling the fat metal bar thrusting upwards into her
belly, cold and hard and dangerous, impaling her.
"Crew won’t like it," she said.
Her toes touched the floor, and she tried to adjust her body on the
post, easing forward, then back, twisting it within her to find the most
comfortable fit. She sank a little further, down onto the balls of her feet.
He reached in and took her left arm, yanking it up and out to the left
side of the box, strapping it in place. Her right followed suit, then
her ankles were strapped down. Another leather strap went over her
forehead, pinning her in place against the back wall of the box, then a
second went over her chest below her breasts and a third over her hips.
He grinned at her and reached up to either side of her head. There were
two metal bars there and he gripped them and swung them down to either
side of her head.
"I’ve made more changes to the box, Billings. You’ll love them," he said
almost in a whisper.
The two bars narrowed to fine points, and he twisted them so that they
slid forward, the points jamming into her ears. She gasped at the pain,
and heard his chuckle of appreciation.
He pressed a button and the machine hummed. Needle fine metal pins
pushed out from the walls, sinking just within her flesh. She winced as
she felt the pinpricks of pain running up and down her legs, hips back
and buttocks. But it was the pins in the curving front edges of the box
which hurt, sinking into the front of her legs, including her knees,
into her belly. But not, oddly, her breasts.
Wayne smiled and reached into the box, cupping her left breast,
squeezing it, easing it slightly to one side. He made an adjustment on
the outside of the box and one of the pins which had halted an inch away
from her breast pushed forward slowly and sank into her nipple, dead
centre. She shuddered, and a groan of pain escaped her lips.
"Beg, Billings. Let me see you beg," he whispered.
"I-If you like," she gasped.
"Oh I like, Billings. I like."
He made a movement and she gasped again, the pain intensifying. The pin
was not halting just beneath the skin but was sinking deeper.
"Fuck!" she gasped.
"Only an inch or so, or perhaps two," he said, teeth gleaming.
Cori clenched her teeth against the jagged pain as the needles sank
deeper into her breast, sweat showing on her forehead now as he reached
for her other breast. Again he made a slight adjustment, and the pin
slid forward and buried itself in her nipple with agonizing results.
"I-I’ll do what you want!" she panted.
"Of course you will," he crooned.
He made another adjustment and the rest of the pins slid forward,
piercing her breasts in dozens of places. These, at least, did not sink
very deep.
He smiled as he swung the door closed. She was alone with her own
gasping breath, her own pounding heart. She could see him through the
door, making adjustments to the controls, and tried to control her fear,
to keep her own imagination from making it worse than it already was.
She hadn’t done anything so so wrong, had she? Surely after punishing
her he’d put her back on the bridge. And then - .
A scream was torn from her throat as searing pain flashed up into her belly.
The shock box did not use electricity. Electricity had too many
restrictions on its use. More than a few seconds of it would knock
someone out, and what good would that do? The shock box used sound
waves, or a kind of sound wave which had been distorted. It was not
electricity, but it was certainly a shock to the system.
Nerve endings snapped and crackled. Muscles spasmed violently again and
again, twitching and contracting. The entire nervous system was
disrupted. And at just the right frequency, the pain centres all up and
down the body would resonate like plucked harp strings to just the right
tune the box desired.
They resonated now in Cori, as the pins began to vibrate so finely no
one would have been able to see any movement. And fire spread up and
down her skin, She screamed and then screamed again as she burned alive,
as fire raced over the surface of her skin and erupted deep within her
belly.
Or at least, so her body’s nervous endings believed.
Scream after scream filled the closed in box as she burned, as she
writhed in the heart of an inferno, her body thrashing and twisting and
shaking against the straps. Agony clawed at her mind, which twisted and
tumbled in feverish frenzy, desperately searching for a way out, for a
way to ease the unrelenting pain. But there was none.
A minute of fire and she’d have been dead. But there was no fire. And so
the minutes ticked by as she burned and burned and burned, sweat rolling
down her face and between her breasts, down her hips and legs and
puddling at her feet.
And she screamed.
The pain stopped, abruptly, leaving her with only the afterimage as she
sagged exhaustedly, weeping.
"Enjoying yourself, Billings?" a tinny voice asked. "That was just the
appetiser."
Now the pins began to vibrate more strongly. Sound rose higher and
higher, reaching an intensity beyond hearing. The buildup ended and
sonic waves slammed into her body from all points of the globe. The
shock was beyond anything electricity could do, as every organ in her
body shuddered and shook.
Her eyes bulged and she lost all control of her muscles. Urine sprayed
against the front glass and her bowels emptied.
But the sound was already spiralling upwards, higher and higher and
higher. Jaw slack, she stared through glassy eyes at the face leering at
her through the glass. Then the sonic wave exploded against her a second
time.
She gave a choked scream, sagging, hanging in place.
Another shockwave hit her, and another, and another, coming closer and
closer together now, strong enough to actually bruise her internal
organs as they wobbled and shook and trembled inside her body. The sound
rose a notch, and the vibrations grew. Another tweak and her organs
would explode.
But instead the shocks halted, leaving her limp again. Only the
stimulant being pumped into her through one of the pins kept her from
lapsing into unconsciousness.
"Isn’t it a marvellous device, Billings?" she heard him croon. "I can
keep you in there for days if I want. I wonder how long you can remain
sane."
She heard his cold chuckle.
"Would you like to experience another alteration I’ve made, Billings? Of
course you would. You know you would."
The resonance changed, softened, deepened. There was no pain this time,
not really. Dripping sweat, still sobbing and trembling with the
wracking agony, Cori was hardly aware of it at first. There was a
stirring, a burning in her groin which grew more and more powerful.
The harmonics had become tuned to the pleasure centre of her brain. The
intensity of the impulses rolling up through her body overloaded her
nervous system.
A climax washed over her, powerful, her belly cramping and twisting, her
chest tightening and aching. It eased, and another began. Another
followed, and another, like a roller coaster, an endless roller coaster.
She shook and trembled and shuddered as the pleasure rolled over her in
waves.
Her body began to ache from the muscle contractions and convulsions. And
the orgasms continued, and then grew in power. She could not repress her
cries of pleasure, cries which rose to screams as the pleasure became
ecstasy. She could hardly breath, was forced to frantically gulp in air
between orgasms. She could not stop her body shaking and trembling even
then, and her mind rolled and spun as the orgasms continued to wash over
her, one after another.
The halted, suddenly, cut off in mid climax, and fire washed over her so
that a scream of pleasure turned into one of agony without even a pause.
The fire gave way to convulsive shocks which had her shaking violently
in her restraints, gurgling and mewling in dazed agony. Then the sound
waves began to hammer at her again.
From one box to another. Cori was dropped into the med box in sick bay,
where the nanites were pumped through her body to repair the internal
bruising and ruptured nerve endings.
She floated in the jelly like substance for less than an hour, all that
was needed to render her physically fit again. The shock box had not
actually caused very much physical damage, after all.
Her mind, of course, was something else again. Tremors swept Cori’s body
and the remembered agony kept flashing up again and again.
No one really noticed, of course, not at first. For no sooner was she
dragged from sick bay when she was taken naked to the crews mess to
relive her first days in Panther.
Still trembling and fearful, she had not even dared to speak as the two
big crewmen had dragged her naked out of the box and half dragged, half
marched her through the corridors. When she’d seen the entrance to the
crew mess her stomach had sagged. When she’d seen the narrow metal table
they’d positioned in the middle of the room she knew a heartsick
certainty of what they intended.
Yet she didn’t fight. Sick with despair and hopelessness, she let them
drop her bodily atop the metal table. Cori looked up at the roof,
ignoring the laughter and catcalls around her as her knees were forced
painfully wide and chains run around them, then pulled down harshly
beneath the table. They dragged her body further along the table,
adjusting it so that her bottom was right at the edge on one side, and
her head and shoulders hung over the other.
Then her wrists were grabbed, pulled down, shackled to the single metal
post which held the table up.
It was almost a relief, in a way, not to be able to see the men who
gathered around the other side of the table, not to know whose faces
were leering down at her naked body as their hands raced across it,
roughly fighting for possession. A dozen hands groped and fondled her as
their coarse laughter filled the compartment. And she winced as her
breasts were gouged and bruised, as her nipples were twisted and cruelly
pinched.
Fingers thrust into her sex, laughter redoubling, then someone managed
to force his way into place and a cock was driven deep into her belly.
The many hands continued to roam her body as it pumped in and out. Then
someone moved to the head of the table, and she cried out in pain as a
hand gripped a fistful of hair and an erect cock was thrust into her
open mouth.
"Suck my cock, bitch!" a cold, smug voice sneered.
Mackenzie. He was a small, thin, balding man, always looking at her with
dark, hungry eyes. He was half made, and mean as they came, and she had
avoided him. But now she was his to do with as he chose, and he twisted
his dirty fingers in her hair, laughing down at her as he jammed his
cock into her mouth again and again, then forced it down her throat.
This was where she had lain when the Panther had first taken her ship,
rape meat for the crew. There were differences, of course. Then she had
been an innocent, terrified girl. Now she was considerably more
experienced. However, some time during her transition to crew she had
developed a measure of pride, pride in her ability with scan, pride in
her ability to move among the men and officers, playing one against
another, pride in her intelligence and capabilities. She had not spent
much time thinking about it, but instinctively she had known she was
better than them, smarter, more able. They were scruff and scum, after all.
And now that pride was shattered as they surrounded her, not strangers,
but her fellow crew, men she had long looked down on, though tried not
to show it. But they had known and resented it. More, they had resented
her spreading her legs for the officers and a few selected NCO’s, while
the great majority could only look and lick their lips and fantasise
about getting their hands on her forbidden flesh.
And now they would get their own back with a vengeance.
"Yeah! Ram it down the whore’s throat!"
"Fuck that pussy!"
"Give it to her, Charley!"
Charley Forrest, she thought weakly. He had always been pleasant, always
smiled, flirted outrageously whenever he got the chance. Now it was him
raping her, ramming his cock into her with hard, furious strokes, his
hips bruising her buttocks and thighs.
"Nice fuckin teats!"
"Ain’t so snotty now, are you, Billings!"
"Fucking bitch!"
"Yeah, she probably loves it!"
"I’m next!"
"Fuck you, I am!"
"We’re gonna rape this cunt raw!"
Mackenzie was pumping his cock violently up and down her throat, using
his grip on her hair to yank her face forward, to ram his face into his
groin each time he jammed his cock home. Tears filled her eyes from
having her nose smashed against his pubic bone, and her head reeled and
throbbed from lack of oxygen.
But once the immediate shock of the violence receded a little and her
mind began to function she worked at breathing. It was possible to
breath even while a cock filled her throat, all but the thickest of
cocks anyway. It took a lot of experience, and a measure of calm. But
she had the experience at least. All she needed was to relax her throat,
to ease the incipient panic of having a fat cock ripping up and down
inside her airway.
She only needed a very little space to suck in oxygen. Her throat was
wide enough to accommodate food. She didn’t need most of that space. She
just needed a tiny bit. The trick was to suck it in around the edges of
the cock filling her throat without drowning on the saliva that the cock
was drawing.
And so, even as her face was rammed into Mackenzie’s groin again and
again she was able to breath - after a fashion, to stay conscious as the
men mauled her naked body.
Mackenzie spewed himself over her face, a final act of conquest and
contempt which drew anger from the next man in line who had no wish to
have someone else’s semen touching his body. Her face was quickly rubbed
off and a man she briefly identified as one of the torpedo men - Hanson,
she thought, thrust his cock into her mouth.
The cock plunging up and down her sex tube eased out. A moment later
there was movement between her legs and another was driven into her belly.
For hours on end the off duty men sat and sprawled about the mess
grinning, watching, looking up occasionally at something new, a higher
pitched cry from Cori, or a more violent curse from one of their own.
Each took his turn as often as they could, delighted to sate their long
repressed lust no the body of their beautiful crewmate.
She was raped again and again and again, with hardly a pause, raped
roughly, brutally, by leering men delighted at being able to use her,
and to punish her for the long period in which they had not been allowed
to use her. They were rough, violent men, and they used her roughly, and
violently, ramming their cocks into her sex, into her anus, down her
throat, their harsh fingers digging into her soft young flesh as they
pounded against her with vicious force.
Her sex lips were raw and swollen, her breasts blue and purplish with
bruises, her throat ragged, her lips bloodied, eyes blackened. After ten
hours she was carried to sick bay for another thirty minutes in the
repair box. Then, her bruises and cuts gone, it was back to the mess
hall for another long session as the crew’s entertainment device.
She found she could mark the shift changes by the new rush of eager men
gathered around the table, by their rough hands groping and slapping and
pulling at her breasts and hair and thighs, by the loudness of their
coarse obscenities.
It was very hard to think. Her skull throbbed and pounded, aching from
being upside down for hours on end. Her head was seldom unmoving, eager
hands jerking her face up into groins again and again as cocks pushed
into her mouth and throat. There was no point in even trying to think.
It went on for days, as the crew worked out their long suppressed lust
and resentment. It was hard for Cori to even remember who and what she
was as both body and mind were battered into numbness.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the book: Space Slave!, by Argus
Argus books have been published by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon, Star,
Olympia, Chimera, and Beeline. They are available at
http://www.ebookblue.com and http://www.bdsmbooks.com |
