THE CONTAINER Part 8

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].  Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged.


  Greyson tried to relax the elevator lounge during its climb up to the docking station above Torei.  The ride up to the station could take as long as 30 minutes and Captain Greyson Pall tried not to look like he sweated every second of it.

    After leaving Truck, he did a few discreet inquiries of his own concerning the customs yards and the whereabouts of unclaimed and lost cargo. He knew a couple of Rusties that lived in the abandon levels of the old city on which the Hub was built.  They knew the underbelly of the Hub like no others but the only thing he learned was that it could be in any one of the 20 bays designated for such cargo.

    Greyson also learned that his customs agent contact, Lire Angel, could not be reached.  Lire’s daughters had not heard from their mother.  He was sure Truck had something to do with the agents disappearance.  

    This arrangement with Truck was getting more volatile by each passing hour.

    The woman seated next to the captain looked as nervous as Greyson felt.  She was a tall, slender woman with long chestnut hair and black, doe-like eyes; dressed in a single dark red cocktail dress that clung to her every curve.  Her eyes kept searching Greyson’s face for reassurance that everything would be all right.  Her hands clutched her bag like it was a life preserver.

    Greyson reached out and patted her hand and gave her one of his winning smiles.

    The woman returned his smile with a slight one of her own.  Tiarah 47Haast was the last of the five slaves Greyson was smuggling off of Torei.  Tiarah was about to be sent to the farms, a fate that most unwanted slaves on Torei shared.  The agricultural ringdoms were often in need of labor and slaves that had become ‘unsalable’ were sent to the farms to ‘retire’.  There were of the many underground slave rights organizations set up arranged relationships between offworld men and older slaves to try to alleviate that very fate.  Greyson was one of those that tried to help unite the women with their other world paramours.  Of course, the said paramours paid a pretty good price for the service.

    The elevator was nearing the end of its journey.  He had a few of his crew members waiting for them at the docking station but even with his crew there, he wouldn’t feel truly safe until he was aboard the ‘Heretic’.  Truck had many unsavory types in his employ that would enjoy seeing Greyson suffer a horrifying death.  With Lire missing, the captain wanted nothing more than to get off planet and away from this entire situation.

    “We have arrived at the Torei docking concourse”, a pleasant woman’s voice announced, “Thank you for visiting Torei.  Your baggage will be placed aboard the shuttles of your departing ships.  Have a safe journey.”

    Greyson got up and took the hand of the woman, “Time to go, my darling.”

    They had no luggage to worry about as they made their way to exit.  A pair of female Port Authority customs agents scanned each departing passenger.  This was the last customs check and the least scrutinous.  Tiarah did not hesitate while they scanned her.  Her chips had been either removed or replaced by the slave rights people and they had done a superlative job.  Greyson was next, passing through and giving one of the agents a lascivious wink before taking Tiarahs hand and leading her onto the concourse proper.

     Tiarah tried not to look about and gawk.  The passenger concourse was all polished steel and dark maroon walls with polished white marble floors.  Large dia-glass portholes looked out over the stars and starships hovering in orbit over Torei.  She tried to guess which one was Captain Pall’s ship. . .

    “It is that one over there,” Greyson said pointing to the ‘Bronzed Heretic’ as if he had read her thoughts, “The one nearest to the station.”  

    What caught Greyson’s eye were the two ships next to the ‘Heretic’, the ‘Painted Apostate’ and the squat wart of a courier ship ‘Expressed’.  The ‘Apostate’ sometimes did the Torei run but not often.  She was mainly a heavy cargo ship with no passenger capabilities.  The ‘Expressed’ was the ship that worried Greyson.  It was a company courier ship whose appearance often marked news of an unwelcome sort.

    “Captain,” a deep voice from behind said in greeting.

    Greyson turned around and smiled.  It was Trang, his much-muscled first officer outfitted in his dress uniform.  Trang often looked uncomfortable in anything he despite him having all his clothes custom made.  The dark-skinned ‘First’ towered over Greyson and the woman.

    “Trang, you do not know how grand it is to see you,” Greyson said, “Who are the visitors?”

    “Someone from corporate.  She has liberated your office.”

    “Wonderful,” Greyson said almost under his breathe, “Well, let us get this lady aboard and see what is so pressing that corporate needed to send someone way out here.”

    The three made their way to a bank of passenger elevators that emptied out on to one of the cargo and crew decks of the station.  The deck had none of the glitz and glamour of the passenger embarkation deck.  These decks were all grey-painted steel, bright warning and direction signs and glowing monitors.  The airlock to the ‘Heretic’s’ shuttle was not far and operated by a Port Authority agent.

    “Good turn, Gentlemen,” the dark-hair Port Authority girl smiled, “I hope business went well.”

    “Thank you,” Greyson replied, “It did indeed, agent Yarlyn.”

    When one did the Torei run as often as Greyson did, you got to know the people and Yarlyn was one of them.  Still technically a slave, her elderly owner pretty much let her live the life of a free womb.  If she wasn’t owned, Greyson would probably have tried to turn her into another contact like Lire.  

    “Have a safe journey, Captain Pall.”

    The ‘Heretics’ shuttle was designed to transport both cargo and passengers and one had to pass through the filled cargo hold before passing through the airlock to the passenger and crew compartment.  Greyson should have felt more at ease, but knowing that corporate was waiting for him at the other end did not put his mind at rest.

    It did not take long at all before the shuttle docked inside it’s berth and everyone clambered off.

     “Trang, please take this lady to her cabin while I go see what this visit is about.”

     “Captain,” the First replied before turning to the woman beside Greyson, “Please follow me.”
     
     Tiarah followed.  She always did what she was told because that was all she really knew.  Her mother had been a slave and Tiarah attended the same training school as her mother and sisters had attended.  She had been auctioned three times prior to being number 47 of Master Haast collection of slaves.  She served him and his guests well, doing everything expected of her but it was all empty save for the lust-filled moments forced from her DNA.

     The First opened a door to a small room.

    “This is your room,” Trang said, “Everything in it is yours.  A gift from your husband-to-be.”

    Tiarah stepped in.  There was a small bed with several brightly-wrapped packages placed neatly on it.

    “I will leave you be,” the First said, “Please use your pane if you need anything.  It might takes us awhile, but we will answer it.”

    The door shut and Tiarah was alone.

    Alone.

    The dark-haired woman had never really had been alone before.  Even during the bleeding time, there was always a sister slave or two with her in the isolation wing of the Haast mansion.  Only in sleep did her dreams allow her to be alone.

    She slowly began to explore her small room.  Beside the bed was a small desk and chair.  The desk had a pane hovering over it and a small vase with some small blue flowers.  In the corner was a shower stall with a built-in sink and fold-down toilet.  A small closet was beside the stall and it was filled with a colorful variety of clothes.  Tiarah had never seen so many clothes in one place and all these were to be hers?

   The woman started to feel anxious, as if being stifled and mummified.  She quickly undressed and folded her dress on the chair.  She never really felt comfortable in covering herself.  Master Haast never allowed it even when she was led around the grounds of the estate where many eyes could watch her.  She did not mind.  She was proud of her lithe figure and proud to be selected to be a part of Master Haasts collection.

   Tiarah sat down on the bed with her packages and hesitantly began to open them.  What was inside the boxes did not come as a surprise and filled her with a sense of ease.

    The golden slave collar was etched with images of dragons whose tails and fiery breaths curled around one another.  She fastened it around her slender throat and found the it fit perfectly.  There was matching manacles for her wrists and ankles as well as glittering chains, gags of all kinds, armbinders and harnesses all beautifully crafted with images of the drake.  These restraints were for slaves of first rank, not for a woman like her.  Still, she wanted to them to embrace her.

    She brought her legs up and fastened the cuffs around them.  They sealed themselves around her ankles perfectly and she could feel a warmth starting to spread through her.  She pressed a short length of chain to the cuff and it melded to it solidly.  She did so to the other end as well, linking her ankle cuffs together.

    Tiarah selected an armbinder next.  She loved the feel of her arms encased behind her.  This one shimmered in the same golden color and had a ring at the very end.  She touched the ring to the center of chain linking her ankle cuffs and it too fastened itself to the chain.

   The woman eased her arms behind her into the single sleeve.

   Like an ancient anaconda, the armbinder began to swallow her arms, tightening as it made its way up to just under her arms.  It continued to constrict around Tiarah’s arms until there was a slight tinge of pain.  As if the armbinder read her thoughts, it stopped.  

   Tiarah was helpless and it was delightful.  She began squirming against her bindings, but there was no give to them.  She was in a tight hogtie until the restraints would let her go or someone would come in and rescue her.

    The warmth that had been spreading through her began to fan her flame.  She rocked her hips against the bed but to no avail. Her lust was swirling through her like a burning whirlwind and there was nothing she could do that satiate its hunger.

     Tiarah writhed and bucked, moaning loudly and cursing herself for not finding a tool to impale herself with.  As she exhausted herself her thoughts drifted to the kind Captain and his slight touches.  She had not known a man that had kindness as she wondered what it would be like to have him touch her and be with her.

     She froze when she heard her door click open.

     “Just checking to see. . .” Greyson’s words froze in his throat as he saw Tiarah hogtied amongst empty boxes, torn paper and many restraints.

    “Come, Captain,” she said, “Please close the door.”

    Greyson nodded and closed the door behind him.

    “Take me,” Tiarah pleaded.

    “I can’t,” he said, still staring at her glistening form.

    “I want to thank you, Captain,” she said, tears trickling down her cheeks, “Take me.”

     She struggled over onto her side to display herself to Greyson’s eyes.  Her small dark nipples were fully erect and her trimmed nest was moist with desire.  Her perfume filled the small cabin.  She thrust her hips towards him.

     “Take me.”

     Every cell of his being screamed not to do it but Greyson undressed anyway.  He was slender like a runner and his cock stood out in front of him like a large prow of a ship.  He lay down beside her and pulled her on top of him.  Tiarah knelt above him; straddling him as she eased herself down onto his erection.

    A shiver of pure pleasure erupted through Tiarah as she felt him inside her fully.  She thrust her hips and bore down on him, squeezing his member as she was taught to do.  The captain’s moans mingled with her own as she began to rock her hips faster.  A hurricane of carnal ecstasy roared through her until she felt his seed fill her.  She screamed in blinded passion as white hot bliss engulfed her as she milked the captain until she felt him shrink from her.  She rolled off of him, panting and smiling, looking at the kind captains narrow face.  It was not long before sleep took over her weary body.

   Greyson lay there.  No sense feeling guilty about what just happened.  What was done is done and over with and it took his mind off of other things.  

   It took his mind off having to get the container back onto the ship and away from Torei.



   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. 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.  

   If you want a character or ringdom of your creation to make a cameo in this story, please write me with the details.  I will try to fit it in.

    T.S. Fesseln