THE CONTAINER Part 5
T.S. FESSELN
Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depiction of violence, sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below.
Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him at [email protected]. Or visit his weblog at fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged.
Aelea let the heat of the pressure shower cleanse the stress of the day out of her. The swirling mist-like spray completely drenched her lithe, two-meter form. She tried to purge all of today’s frustrations, but she couldn’t. The rogue truant officer kept intruding on her thoughts like a poisoned dagger.
The shower jets shut off and a warm blower began to dry her skin. Unlike her home world, water was very much a precious commodity here on Torei. Every drop would be reclaimed and recycled in the bowels of the old city on which the Hub was constructed over. She stepped out of the shower, stretched and looked at herself in the many glowing panels that hung in her apartment. Her rich, dark skin glistened in the neon-like lights. She gathered up her long, black hair and braided it up into a bun. She thought briefly about ordering up a slave, but the woman in the truant officers garb eclipsed even those lascivious thoughts.
Aelea stepped over to her data bubble, a meter and a half obsidian sphere and her work station at home. With a touch, the security panel confirmed her DNA and the port in the bubble swung up. The dark-skinned security officer stepped in and nestled herself into the gel seating. All the inside data panels glowed as the bubble door swung shut.
Inside, Aelea was in her private place. The gel surrounded her nude body in a thick layer save for her head. She focused her thoughts on what she had managed to do at the station. All the data from the feeds directly in the truant officers path was scrambled or missing. Whoever that woman was, she had access to the central data storage banks. However, using reflections and distant data stations, Aelea tracked the stranger to one of the cargo express tubes where her van was loaded up to a train headed to Delphinium. With a few thoughts, she dispatched several tracking nanobots to try to follow that train. Really, there was little she could do beyond that, at least for now.
Aelea imagined what she would do to that truant officer once she got a hold of her. The gel around Aelea changed and began to answer to her thoughts. The screens in her bubble changed and displayed her imaginings. The faceless truant officer was bound in a tight hogtie on Aelea’s bed, her glossy-black uniform stripped from her but her isolation hood still locked into place. The officer’s skin was as white as cream, with large pale nipples already erect. Aelea reached out and pinched one hard. The image of the officer tried to squirm away but Aelea held onto her firmly.
The gel began to ease itself inside of Aelea, hardening and caressing her sex. Aelea imagined herself straddling the struggling officer, her hands kneading the officers large, pale breasts as Aeleas arousal dampened the flat of the officer’s stomach. Aelea rocked her hips. She could feel her captive writhing beneath her. With a thought, the opaque faceplate became translucent and Aelea could see the fear in her captive’s eyes. The officer’s lips were sealed with her own black patch, her pleas muffled as Aelea smiled down.
Aelea pinched her fantasy captives’ nipples even harder, causing the image and the gel to buck in pain. The gel abraded inside Aelea harder, causing a wave of pleasure to course through her.
With a thought, Aelea produced a double headed dildo. One end looked like a normal, engorged phallus. The other end had pointed, metallic studs along its entire shaft. The captive saw it and began to struggle and thrash. Aelea forced her captive’s knees wide open and pushed the studded end into her captive’s sex, causing a wail of pain.
Aelea didn’t care. It was what she wanted this bitch to feel.
The dark-skinned security woman lowered herself down onto the other end of the phallus and slowly began to rock her hips around it. More bliss cascaded through Aelea as her captive moaned in pain. Aelea could fell the wellspring of pleasure swelling inside her, filling her with a molten hot bliss that erupted in pure ecstasy. Aelea rode harder and harder until her orgasm trickled away, leaving the security woman breathless and sated.
She sat in her bubble for quite some time, her thoughts drifting about. She should have ordered a slave from the Hubs slave pool. The fantasy was good but not as good as having warm, struggling flesh beneath you.
Aelea was still horny. With a thought, she put in an order for a slave that fit Aeleas image of her nemesis.
-o0o-
Tia slowly woke up, her head pounding. Her chip was not compensating for the pain. There was a dull pain in her wrists as well. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could see that she was trapped in a worn, iron cage which was suspended from some unseen ceiling. Her wrists were manacled above her head and chained to the top of the cage. Her lips were sealed by some leather mask and held there by a pair of straps that ran parallel to her nose and fastened behind the blonde curls of her head. Her ankles were locked in irons as well. A wisp of cold, damp air made it very clear that she was very much naked as she sat in her cage.
The last thing Tia could remember was being carried brusquely through a maze of corridors and lifts and thrown into a small cell. Her head encased in an isolation mask and her arms still pinned in back of her by an arm binder made it hard to really get an idea what her cell was, but it was small and had a strong mesh all away around. After her brief exploration, she remembered a short, sharp pain in her head and she was switched into oblivion.
The run-away slave could hear muffled moans and cries around her, echoing through the darkness. As her eyes adjusted more, she could barely make out two other cages dangling beside hers.
Slowly the room began to brighten. She noticed that her cage, as well as a dozen others, was suspended from a domed ceiling that was intricately carved with two monstrous staring cyclopean eyes, each with a sunburst around it: the Eye of the North and the Eye of the South. They stared downward from either side of the dome. Their focus was a single altar carved of the same sun-burnt tan stone that was quarried ages ago from the deserts beyond the ringdoms. The whole room was made of the stone, mimicking the Torean cities of old. Below her, Tia could see a vast array of ancient discipline devices of wood and iron; the Wheel, the Rack, the many varied pillories. In a whoosh, a fire pit lit up in a shower of sparks, revealing many ancient pokers and branding irons.
Looking over, Tia could see the same wide-eyed frightened expression from the dark-skinned brunette beside her as she knew she had herself. A sickness twisted her stomach.
A low chanting began as several robe-hooded men came into the room. Some looked up and around, their eyes ravenously tearing into the women slaves dangling above them. The others were trying to be solemn as effigies as they made their way to altar. There were seven men all told as they stood they circled around.
Their chanting stopped as a man with golden mask in the shape of a single red eye and climbed up on the dais on which the altar sat.
“Welcome to the Torei of bygone centuries,” the masked man said in a deep voice, “You now have the privilege of selecting any one of the slaves you see above you and to use them as hard as you want. Whatever happens here stays within these stone walls and only recorded in your own minds’ eye. Stand underneath the slave of your choice and the cage will be lowered for you.”
Tia did a quick count of cages. There were 12 cages all told. The odds were not in her favor.
The men spread about the room, eyeing all of the captive women inside their cages. One by one, the slaves were lowered to the waiting men and their eager eyes. The dark-skinned woman beside Tia sobbed as she was lowered to the floor to a tall, thin man whose hooded robe kept his face in shadow. The same man pointed to Tia. With a metallic clink, the cage was lowered as well.
When Tia’s cage reached the floor, the thin man came over to it and looked down at Tia.
“I am saving you for dessert, my lovely,” he whispered is a raspy voice.
The man turned back to the dark-skinned slave’s cage and unlocked the door. Standing over the woman, he produced a wicked looking dagger from beneath his robes and ran its tip across the woman’s throat. The man then said something that made the woman wail from behind her gag and back away from him as best she could, her wrists locked in front her by some ancient-looking chain and manacles. After putting away his dagger, the man locked an iron collar around the woman’s throat and yanked on its chain, pulling the woman out of the safety of her cage.
The dark-skinned woman was very exotic and beautiful. Her hair had been completely shaved off and her mahogany-colored skin gleamed in the light. The slaves green eyes darted around the room were filled with terror. With another cruel yank, he dragged the woman a short ways to a tall, stout post with hooks set up high.
The slave continued to fight the man when two robed female guards grabbed the thrashing woman and held her while the man hung her by her manacles.
“You can die quickly or slowly, bitch,” the man said, “It is your choice.”
On a nearby table, the man selected a flogger; one with little metal barbs on the end of each tail. He paced in front of her, his eyes taking in all of the lithe curves and shadows. He took his gloves off, revealing fingers set with polished onyx stones and talons in the place of fingernails. To Tia, they looked like claws of a raptor.
The woman squealed as her tormentor caressed the side of the woman’s breast with the tip of his claw, causing a little pearl of blood to form and trail down the woman’s side. The man then grabbed his dark-skinned victims chin, holding it so they were eye-to-eye.
“I understand you are a March. Is this correct?”
The slave nodded slightly.
Tia was a September and now, she was glad for it. In the dawn century of Torei, the Eyes ensured that there were 9 women for every man. But more than just that, they genetically wove their biological magic so that one month out of the year, a woman’s libido was crammed into overload. On that month, she would have an insatiable need to have sex until she became pregnant or her estrus days ended.
This month was March and the dark-skinned slave was in the hands of an off-worlder with a taste for pain.
The man laughed and his talons retreated beneath his ebony fingernails. His hand reached between the slaves legs and lightly touched the lips of her sex. The woman moaned, thrusting her hips out slightly. She did this instinctively even though she knew what this man was most likely going to do with her.
“I am going to fuck you, my horny little sacrifice,” he said as he let his robe slip off himself and pool at his feet.
The off-worlder was thin but well built. He had wide shoulders and shoulder-length grey hair. His eyes were as black as his talons. He approached his victim, grabbed the chain between her ankles and lifted, positioning himself between her legs and thrusting forward.
“Fuck me, slave,” the man said, “Show me how much your life is worth.”
With her ankles clamped around his head, the dark-skinned woman began to rhythmically writhe for him. Her skin was oiled with the sweat of her efforts. Her moans were in sync with her hungry thrusts. The man began to smile his toothy smile, chanting ‘Fuck, fuck,fuck. . .’ His talons came out and began to gouge crimson trails of blood until he grab her to him and held her there as he filled her with his climax.
He removed the woman’s chained ankles off of his shoulders and let her hang, panting and limp. The man turned his attention to a glinting crescent-shaped ceremonial dagger sitting on a nearby stand. He picked it up an approached the dark-skinned slave, holding it before her fear strained eyes. It was then that Tia closed hers.
An eternity ticked away with the muffled screams of the dark-skinned woman and others. Tia tried not to imagine what the sounds were telling her that was happening. Then she felt her cage rattle and it was lifted upward back to where it was before. When it stopped, she risked a glance.
The men were gone and a small army of women were cleaning off the altars and floors, making them look unused again. Incense purged the coppery smell of blood.
Tia had been spared. . .this time.
-o0o-
Dross Martin drummed his metallic fingertips on his desk station at his apartment. His mind was filled with the image of the red-haired woman in the container. He couldn’t understand his obsession.
“Drake,” he cursed out loud to his empty apartment.
Even as he strapped on his belt and clipped on both his q-gun and his normal heavy barrel, he knew what he was about to do was stupid and dangerous but he had to do it. He had to at least peek at her again to see if he could see any clues on the holo-clip that was in the container.
The ache in his crotch was hard to ignore and he had to see if he could figure out if he could fix that.
It is usually a long time between postings for my stories. In the past, I have tried to compile a mailing list, but it has become unmanageable as of late. However, you can check my weblog at fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ for news of my latest works and to read some new ones. Or, you can catch me on Twitter or Facebook for up to the minute progress or a pleasant chat. Any and all comments are welcome and appreciated. Please e-mail me a [email protected] or post them on my blog.