“That’s right, in you go, sweet-tits,” he says.
Once I’m fully within, the guard slams the door, and I hear the click of an electronic lock.
It doesn’t take long to examine of my new surroundings. The ceiling is only an inch above my arched back, so I can’t sit up, not even enough to rest back on my heels. The door – a wire mesh of alloy designed so I can’t hide from the corridor – is at my right, and the remaining sides are plain alloy. Each face of my box is only inches away, so there’s no possibility of shifting to a different position. And the only other feature in here with me is a disgusting thing that looks like a dildo – a pale pink artificial erect phallus, so realistic it even has veins and an opening at the tip. It’s so near to me I bump my face against it if I lift my head from my knees.
The noise in this prison gradually diminishes as the last captives are caged.
I can’t see enough from inside my small box to confirm when the loading is complete, but a guard gives us instructions.
“We don’t want pretties like you harming yourselves before you get your implants,” he gloats. “So the shipment cages have been fitted with AI. You will hear this tone:” and there is a loud single note sounds, “and you must drain the nutri-fluid from the feeding tube in front of you. Fail to take all the fluid, or refuse to feed, and this will happen:”
And yet again, they make us scream. Where my knees and feet touch the alloy floor it feels like the goad – an intense jolt of white-hot pain. Instinctively I try to straighten to evade the agony, but that only presses my back against the roof, which also burns like a sun. But as immediately as it arrived the pain is gone. I feel nothing – there’s no trace, even though it felt like my skin was burning away.
In the aftermath I can hear women weeping from the other cages, their sounds ranging from gentle sobs to near hysteria.
The pirate didn’t sound as though he’d finished speaking, but there’s no more word from the guards. None of us know if they’re waiting. We can each only see one small portion of the empty corridor through the mesh. It’s about five minutes before anyone dares ask, “have they gone?” and another female voice replies, “I think so.”
A daring soul calls, “Sir?” and no one answers.
“What are we going to do?” someone then wails, too loudly, and another voice snaps angrily, “We’re going to be quiet! Or you’ll end up bringing them back.”
“But what can we do?” another woman asks, more quietly, and the angry one answers this too, ”What do you think we’re going to do? We’re going to get implanted, and then what we’re going to do is get fucked by men. We’ll fuck every one they want us to fuck.”
She’s right. With a moment to think, the hopelessness of situation comes crashing in on me. Next thing, a big wet tear drips down my cheek and onto my bare knee. I’m locked stark naked in a cage, and I’m on my way to Aghara-Penthay. I’m lost. It’s only a matter of time before I’m raped. No! Why me? Why did I have to be a woman? Why did I have to be pretty? I can feel my full breasts squashed into my thighs. I’d been pleased to have that chest once, but now it’s just gonna bring me misery. I wish I could chop the things off. My bare pelvis is thrust out behind me, so my rear feels very vulnerable. My scorns rest on my naked back. I hope there’s not a camera in the back wall, or anyone peeking will get an obscene view of my holes. Needing to do something, I manage to shift my arm enough to try and rub away the demeaning mark the wrote on me, my forty-nine, but the ink seems indelible.
A couple of minutes later, the buzzer we were taught about sounds for the first time.
I don’t have the courage left to defy my captors, so I hastily take the head of the phallus in my mouth and suck it greedily. The fake penis turns out to be the temperature of a human body, as is the liquid it dispenses. A viscous fluid fills my mouth. It tastes of salt, and something unpleasant that I can’t identify. I swallow it back, but the slimy substance coats my throat. My torso heaves with revulsion, and I think I’m going to retch, but I force back the urge and continue to suck on the disgusting thing in front of me. The other women must also be obeying, for there are no further screams.
The tone ceases, but I keep sucking until the penis is dry. After I’m done, I can’t get rid of the taste and the feeling of that slime. And so, in this condition, for a short time there’s nothing for me to do but wait, looking down at the cage floor and at my own smooth knees, while I have a moment free from harassment.
But we’re not left alone for long.
I hear the sound of multiple male voices approaching.
“Hello, sexy,” a man’s voice says to someone, from a spot a few cages behind me. “Forty-seven? I think you deserve better than that. I’d core you raw.”
And then they move along the ranks, commenting and discussing on other women, as though we’re nothing more than objects.
“Chest is too flat,” one girl gets told. Another: “I don’t like the dark ones.”
Then the voices are outside my grille.
“A prize piece of alien cunt,” is someone’s judgement. “Always good for variety, the alien ones.”
I look down steadily at the floor between my knees. Already I can guess that making eye contact will probably invite more trouble. My strategy works, and to my relief they move on, and I don’t even see the man who just reduced me and all my hopes, fears, dreams, tastes, to one sentence: “a prize piece of alien cunt”.
Shortly after that, all this group of men leave, but they’re not by any means the last visitors. I don’t know if all the rooms of captives are receiving similar attention, but our wall of cages, where the highest scoring women are being kept, seems to be a popular venue for sightseeing by the Slaver crew. I try not to pay attention as I repeatedly hear lewd and disgusting comments on my body, unless I’m addressed directly and obliged to answer. They’re just words, and we’re all getting similar treatment, but after an unknown time has passed, something happens where I’m no longer able to blend into the herd.
“Here she is,” a gravelly male voice is saying, and the sound of his voice comes from right next to me. “Hey, you – the green cunt, look round.”
I wish I could stare ahead but it’s riskier to disobey this man than to comply, so I turn my head and I see him. It is the tall unwashed man, he who was scoring Trindii’s line, and he who caught me looking at him with disapproval. Around him stand three of his colleagues, each an equally repellant lowlife.
“Hello, hooters,” he says. “I told you we’d come back for you.”
4 – Soiled
It’s more difficult to climb down from the cage than it was to get inside. My muscles have started to seize up in that cramped space, and when I half-tumble out, one of the men has to catch my elbow, like he’s being chivalrous.
I stand on the floor, surrounded, ashamed of my nakedness, and instinctively I recross my arm across my breasts, and cup my vulva with my other hand. Like that’s going to protect me from what’s coming.
I realize they’re not removing any of the other women. They’re here just for me. Before these males, I’m shaking with terror.
“Please,” I beg humbly. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Sir. Just let me go back in my cage, and I won’t do it again.”
From my position in the corridor I now can see inside some of the other cages. None of the other women are looking this way. They’re just thanking the gods that I’ve been chosen for what’s about to happen, and not them.
“Come with us, hooters,” the unwashed man says, grabbing my elbow, and he tries to pull me along the corridor. I look back uncertainly.
“Just me? Not all of us?” I query, betraying the others around me.
Another guard, a big burly fellow, lazily waves one of their pain batons at me, so I know the price I’ll pay if I don’t cooperate. So I give in, and let the unwashed man lead me. I proceed to my fate, surrounded by his three companions. I can smell the unwashed one’s stale odor, even at this distance.
It was bad enough being nude before others when I was one of the crowd, but alone with these men, I feel bitterly conscious of my nakedness and vulnerability. I pad along with the men on my bare feet, chest and sex covered with my arms, but knowing I can do nothing to conceal the feminine curves of my rump – fully displayed to the two males behind me.
Again we pass the cage where the male captives are held. The women in there have fallen quiet now. On a filthy mattress on the cell floor, I see Trindii is in the embrace of a big male. He holds her as closely and as intimately as if they’re lovers. She’s not moving. She has her back to the bars, her body as limp as a rag doll, and I can’t see if she’s still conscious. It’s probably a mercy if she’s not.
One of my escorts – a grey-haired guard with a hoarse voice, old enough to be my grandfather, is watching me.
“Want to join the cunts in there?” he asks gruffly. “Be grateful you’re one of the pretty ones, forty-nine, so you’re spared that. But if you’re not nice to us, it can still happen.”
After that warning, we only have to go a couple of junctions further on before we reach our final destination.
The cabin, if that’s what it is, is as bare as a prison cell. There’s nothing but the bed in here, a steel framed bed, bolted to the floor in case the ship shakes during combat. It sits out in the center of the room, with no bedhead or footer. Just that awful frame to support the mattress, a mattress which is so clinically crisp and white that it could be for a hospital.
But this is a rape room.
“No,” I plead, my stomach dropping through the floor. It’s hopeless but I’m trying to reverse back out, but I’m already inside the cabin, and the two men behind me cut off my exit. A hand shoves my bare shoulder blade and I stumble further forward.
“Hit the door, Corrick,” says the unwashed one to the giant. “And lock it. We don’t want to be interrupted.”
“Please, please, please,” I’m begging. This can’t be about to happen to me! As the door closes, sealing us in, I try desperately to figure some plan to evade the inevitable, but the men are already on me. Powerful arms lift me into the air, their sweaty hands seeming to be on me everywhere, and I’m flung roughly down onto the mattress. I race back onto my knees, trying to get up, but I’m pushed down again. It’s my first experience of a physical contest against males, and it is a shock. Gods, these men are so much stronger than me, and on top of that they have the advantage of weight as well.
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