THE CONTAINER Part 6

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.


    Vernon Arlon Truck sat in his ‘command’ station, cigar tucked in the corner of his mouth and his fingers laced behind his head, pondering the day’s problems.  This was his sanctuary, tucked in the center of Delphinium away from all of the controlled chaos.  Most people imagined him perched at the very top of his empire with dia-glass windows letting him survey his ringdom domain.  However, Truck had an unnatural fear of heights.  It was a fear he was very careful to hide.  Show no fear.  That was the mantra he lived by.  That was why he was God to this arcology.

    His office was small compared to the grandeur of his receiving rooms.  The walls were constructed of highly polished black marble with trickling waterfalls hissing downward.  Thick, black carpet kept the room quiet as a library.  There were small spotlights in the ceiling and the sounds of an artificial breeze whispered through the small room.  It was a calm place that Truck cherished more than anything.

    One of his panes on the desk flashed and the image of Cornelius Hart sat staring at him.  Truck took a deep breath and flashed his best carnival smile.

    “Cornelius, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

    “How is my package doing?” Hart asked sternly, “You told me I would receive daily reports and vid feeds.  I have yet to get one. Explain.”

    “In a word, Customs.  We expect it to clear any day now.”  

    “I thought you had an understanding with the officials in customs,” Hat said sternly.

    “We do,” Truck lied, “It is a draconian system.  But we will have the package here for programing very soon.  As soon as it arrives, you will get your reports.”

    “I better.”  
     
    The image disappeared.

    Truck took a long draw from his cigar and calmed himself.  He should have never offered his services.  Hart wanted his new wife trained in the Torean way.  She was a spoiled brat from a very prominent, politically-astute family in the Zanweg Syndicate.  Hart himself was a direct descendant of the fleet commander of the very armada that sailed in and demanded trade with Torei or else.  If any of the Eyes got wind of this. . .better not think about it.  Focus on getting this contract done.  With a thought, another pane flashed on.  He saw that Nyx had ‘obtained’ the customs agent and was prepping her as he watched.  In a few minutes, he would pay her a special visit.

     Truck took another deep draw on his cigar before heading over to the receiving cells.

     The inner labyrinth of Delphinium was what made this the number one tourist magnet on Torei.  Within these corridors and rooms were the slave quarters and training facilities and nurseries that raised and housed future generations of slaves whose sole purpose was to please paying customers.   Here was the ‘behind the curtains’ of the greatest show on Torei and Truck was the Grand Ringmaster.

     Truck was not born into this wealth.  He earned it.  As with all Torei males coming of age, his father bought him his first slave.  She was a tall, slender brunette with light hazel eyes and a permanent pout on her face.  It was up to him to provide for her keeping.

     Her name was Passia and the devotion she showed to him was incredible.  Truck worked hard to please her and she returned his favors with a fervent passion.  He worked at a medical receiving facility where he would escort rich off-worlders to their appointments with the help of several of the facility-owned ‘workers’.

     Vernon Truck wished he could be as rich as the off-worlders that passed through those doors..

     One fateful day, Truck brought Passia to help him since several of the other slaves had fallen ill.  She did her job as well as to be expected.  Truck caught a pair of off-world men staring a Passia with obvious lust in their eyes.  

    “I wish I could own that,” one of them said, a tall, rugged looking man with distinguished grey hair.

    Without even a heartbeat passing truck asked, “How much would you buy her for?”

    The man was somewhat taken aback but recovered quickly, “Slaves are against the law outside of here.”

    Truck smiled his sharky smile, “But that wouldn’t stop a man like you, would it?  Call her a ‘personal assistant’.”

     The man pondered a bit, “What about her chip?”

     “There are ways around that.  So tell me, what is she worth to you?”

     The off-worlder quoted a price and it was twice as much as he thought he would get.  Moreover, it was in Inter-world Transaction Notes.  ITN’s were the gold standard of currency.  You could use them anywhere.  Truck agreed to the amount and the transaction made.  He gave the offworlder a simple scrambler that would hide Passia’s chip and with only a little twinge of guilt, Truck embarked on his new career of black market slave sales.

    But Truck never forgot Passia and the sorrowful look she gave him as he handed her over to the off-worlder.  The most well equipped playroom in Delphinium was the ‘Passia Room’.

    Truck’s chip let him go through the security areas without even a pause and soon he was in the holding cell with Nyx and Customs Agent Lire.

    Truck glanced at Nyx, still clad in her Truant Officer armor and isolation helm, and with a wave of his cigar, he told Nyx to go.  Nyx hesitated only for a moment before leaving Lire in the hands of Truck.

   Lire was restrained on an ‘X’ style hover gurney, her arms and legs were anchored with heavy straps as well as a strap around her waist.  The black seal was still taped to her lips.  As Truck smiled down at her, her blue eyes plead with him.

    “There, there,” he purred as he stroked her short, honey-blonde hair, “I still have uses for you.  I see that you are a May.”

    Lire shook her head barely.  How could this be happening to her?  She did what she was told but she couldn’t help what had happened.  The heavy belts kept her in place but she threw herself at them anyway.

    “No need to fuss, little lady, and no need to lie. I know more about you than you do.  I know you are trying to support two beautiful daughters in a good hub boarding school.  I know the money we paid you to make sure our cargo came and went through customs went to pay for their free-womb upbringing.  No slavery for them. . .”

    Truck took a slow draw on his cigar.

    “At least, not until now.  What are they going to do now that you’re not around?  Perhaps I can give them an alternate education.”

    Lire screamed as she fought her bindings, tears running down her cheeks.

    “But that is enough about them.  Let’s talk about you.”

    The bound blonde cringed as Truck caressed her bared hip, his finger tracing over it to her soft nest of golden curls.  He petted her mons as if it were a small pet.

    “You are a May.  I see it on your chip.  You get nearly a whole month off in May because you really are focused on just one thing, aren’t you, my pretty little lady.  You just want to fuck.  Luckily, I have a customer that needs a woman like you in a couple of months; a customer with certain tastes.”

    Lire seized with sobs of pure despair.

    “You, my dear, are going to become a pillow.”

    A what?  Lire didn’t understand.  Through her fog of fear and desolation she didn’t know what Truck meant.

    With a touch of a button, the hovering gurney followed truck out of another doorway to her cell.  The corridors were a sterile white with glistening tile with closed polished steel doors.  Above each door was marked ‘ward’ with a number behind it.  Only the hums of machinery could be heard.  With a wave of his hand, one of the stainless steel doors slid open revealing large room with several beds surrounded by frosted glass.

    “I wanted you to meet one of your fellow pillows.  This customer buys six to eight every trip.  He is planning on being here in May.  Perfect timing, don’t you think.  This pillow is also a May.  We purchased her legally from the marketplace over in D’warr Ringdom.”

    The hover gurney came to rest beside the bed.  Truck touched the glass wall and it lifted silently into the ceiling.  Lire’s eyes locked on the woman in the bed.

    Or what was left of the woman.

    The bald woman was in a full latex mask helmet that covered her entire head.  A black collar encircled her throat as she writhed on the bed.  Both of the woman’s arms and legs had been amputated, leaving just a struggling torso.  A vibrator hummed as the woman struggled to enjoy its ministrations, moaning into her gag.  Chrome ‘eye’ bolts were affixed to where her arms and legs had been and chains were locked to those bolts and the bed.

     Trucks fingers stroked through the fine curls of Lire’s puss, lingering at the flesh of her lips.

    “I think you will be a lovely pillow.  I’ll give you a few days to think upon it before your modification begins.  But I want to sample your goods before we send off.”

    Lire’s eyes were glued to the horror of the woman turned pillow as the woman arched her back in ecstasy. Her pale skin was glistening from her efforts as she writhed and bucked against the vibrator.  There was little else the woman could do; she dependent on others to do everything for her.

    The thought sent a raw chill through Lire.
    While watching the poor, helpless woman, Lire had not noticed Truck.  He had carefully undressed, leaving his clothes in a neat pile on a nearby table.  Truck was a well-built specimen of a Torean male, complete with an erect cock pointing straight at her.  He pressed a small button on her gurney and it began to spread her legs wider, exposing herself more to Truck’s hungry eyes.

     For Truck, sex like this was more for the punishment of the victim than the pleasure for himself.  He tuck the cigar from his lips and hovered it’s smoking tip over the Lire’s golden nest, lowering it closer and closer until it’s heat became nearly unbearable.  

     Then he moved it down to the flesh of her sex, making Lire whimper as she tried to pull herself back from the burning tip.

     “I am going to fuck you with it so you can feel the pain you caused me.”

     Lire screamed into her gag, shaking her head no.  Truck just laughed and clamped the cigar back into the corner of his mouth.  

     The helpless blonde then felt the tip of his cock at the folds of her sex.  He lunged into her and she felt him fully inside her.  He thrust into her violently and soon her body began to respond as the Eyes wanted it to.  Despite the violence of his attack, Lire felt a pyre of uncontrollable pleasure building within her.  Her body tensed against her restraints as she arched and writhed to his attack until an inferno of pure bliss engulfed her.

    When she opened her eyes, she saw Truck standing between her legs, his smoking cigar pointed straight at her clit.

                                 -o0o-

    Dross walked into the customs security post for Bay 34.  The three women customs agents immediately snapped to attention.

    “Sir!” they said in unison.

    “Relax, I’m not on duty tonight, ladies.  Just couldn’t sleep,” Dross smiled as he glanced at the duty charts, “Anything going on?”
    The dark-haired Agent, Gi’an, behind the console gave a ghost of a smile, “Nothing out of the ordinary, sir,” she replied.  

    It was not the first time that Commander Martin sought the quiet solace of the storage bays, Gi’an mused.  She would catch him on the monitors wandering amongst the containers, lost in whatever thoughts that gnawed away at his sleep.  Gi’an always thought he was a handsome man, even with his ‘augmentations’.  She tried to give him hints, especially around her month, but he would only give her a smile and a joke or two.  He would be good to breed with.  She wondered if any woman would ever capture his attention.  

   “I see the feeds are still out in the ‘D’ section of Lost Cargo,” Dross noticed.

   “Mites again; still,” Gi’an said,

   Dross knew it was mites.  The Lannow Ringdom Confederacy had tried to smuggle these contraband weapons to their ringdom but failed.  The stasis field in the container had shut down and the circuit mites escaped into the Hub and to other ringdoms.  The Hub had designed Harvesters to try to rid themselves of this problem and it was an ongoing process.  That was three years ago and because mites have the ability to replicate themselves, the problem would not go away soon.

   “Any outside ‘D’ section yet?” Dross asked.

   “No.  Harvesters seem to have contained the swarm to just a small portion of ‘D’ section.”

   “Good,” Dross nodded his head, “Well, I will let you girls be.  Don’t get into too much trouble.  Commander Tragle will have your puss.”

    “Yes, Sir,” all three girls replied as Dross made his way out the door towards the cargo tram station.  Dross knew that Tragle was probably with one of the other agents or two. He usually spent his shift seeing how many of the freewomb agents he could get around his cock.

    Several personnel trams were lined up and Dross climbed into the nearest one and directed it to ‘D’ section of Lost Cargo, where the container containing his red-maned beauty was being kept.  He made sure she was not too near the infestation area.  Just close enough that the feeds could not pick up their presence.

    The whole of the Hub’s port was cathedral-like in its vastness and scope.  Almost all of Torei’s imports and exports went through this space.  Light levels were kept at a minimum, only coming on when there was a chip presence. Dross drove by section after section until the tram turned and the massive doors of ‘D’ section hissed open.

    The lost cargo bay was small in comparison to most others.  There were an odd assortment of crates and containers that had been damaged in some way to make their destinations unreadable. Tucked bedside two huge aqua tanks Dross found his container.  His breathing almost stopped when he saw it knowing what beauty lay suspended in the containers belly.  

   “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said to himself as he walked around the container.

   Dross found the false panel on the side and opened it.  He connected to the pane access port and brought up the image of the red-headed woman again.  The holographic portrait still showed a woman hanging by her wrists.  Her green, cat-like eyes were wide with fear and Dross could see that she was trying to say something through her gag.  Her breast were large and her large nipples were almost as pale as her freckled skin.  The nest between her legs was trimmed and looked as soft as down.  He hadn’t noticed it before, but he could now see the end of a slender stimulator poking out of her sex.  Her ankles were cuffed and chained to the floor.  However, Dross noted, there was no collar around her slender throat.

    He watched the vid for a few more moments before turning it off.  Time to wake sleeping Beauty.

              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.