“Put it in the box when we get back. It’s for the girls who aren’t chosen or don’t get tips. That way they can still use the kiosk.”
Another question that had been troubling Pam a lot more came to mind. “Daisy, I’m nearly…. That is…what happens when the time of the month comes round? I’m due soon.”
“It won’t of course. How don’t you know about that? They give us that Zala-whatever-it’s-called in our food. That root or bark or something, from the tree they found in the jungle down in the Spanish Empire. It’s the one that protects us from pregnancy and diseases too. It works pretty much straight away.”
Spanish Empire? Pam was too tired to ask. Relieved by what Daisy had told her, the moment they reached their quarters she put her money in the box, forgot about using her new toothbrush and lowered herself cautiously onto her bunk. The prickle stubbornly refused to stop teasing her sex. Doing her best to ignore it and all her other discomforts, Pam closed her eyes. Was it really less than twenty-four hours since she had knelt to suck Drake’s cock?
*
As a stewardess third class Pam was the lowliest of the low. Exactly how low became depressingly clear when her next shift began in the male passengers’ toilet.
“Do a thorough job,” Christine the overseer said, “or next time it won’t be ointment you get on your backside, it’ll be six from my cane. And no slacking. The first lieutenant will be doing his rounds shortly.”
The mention of Drake provoked Pam’s recollection of kneeling at his feet with his big shaft filling her mouth. Of all the nerve-racking moments she had endured that one came most frequently to mind, and always accompanied by a tremor low in her belly. Pam remembered the times she had done the same with Rick, willingly, devotedly, eagerly subjecting herself to his will. More often than not she had been bound or cuffed, sacrificing her freedom for the sake of Rick’s pleasure, and for her own, knowing the satisfaction he derived from dominating her. And maybe she had felt a little of her own at being dominated. But that had been different; a temporary suspension of reality and normal life, not the years of endless drudgery and abject servitude Pam was facing now. And she had loved Rick, or had believed she had. With Drake her arousal had simply been drug-induced.
Pam had listened to the slave girls’ chatter. They talked about the passengers – who was attractive and who was not, who was cruel and who was kind. They talked about the crew too. None of them had a bad word to say about Drake. He did everything by the rulebook, but he was fair and even-handed and admired for it, maybe even liked. Pam had noticed girls look in her direction when his name came up and guessed Christine had mentioned what had taken place between them. They all seemed to think it was significant somehow but she could not see it. He was just another arrogant, overbearing male who abused his authority to satisfy his lust whenever it suited him, and in this world the opportunities for that were even greater than in the one she had been plucked from.
Exerting all of her carefully nurtured control Pam staved off despair, stopped sweeping her mop over the tiled floor and accepted she could not put off cleaning the urinals any longer. She had never done such a thing in her life. Still, it was better than cock-sucking or licking passengers’ pussies. She knelt with a shudder and began scrubbing the first basin. It smelled of piss and disinfectant.
Someone came in. Pam looked up and quickly down again as she recognised the red hair and ruddy face of Lord Brinley. He walked to the urinal. She began backing away, gut tightening. The man shot out a hand and grabbed her hair.
“Stay put.” He pulled her far enough aside to stand at the basin. Pam lowered her eyes from the fat, slug-like penis he pulled from his trousers but a jerk on her hair raised her head as he let loose a stream of piss into the bowl. It splattered against the porcelain, a fine mist of its backlash spraying her face. “Eyes open,” he barked.
Cracking her eyelids a fraction apart Pam saw the fat head of his cock rapidly emerging from its foreskin.
“Suck.”
She gulped. A drip of yellowish urine clung to the tip of the penis. The man’s grip on her hair tightened and pulled her closer. Fighting nausea, Pam opened her mouth.
Brinley’s shaft quickly swelled to such a size her jaws ached at having to stretch so wide to accommodate it. She gagged continually as it pushed towards the back of her throat.
“Let’s have a look at you.” Forced to her feet by a pull on her hair Pam stood gasping while Brinley looked her up and down. “You’re a pretty one. Fine pair of tits.” His meaty fist tore her loincloth away. “I prefer girls with hair on their cunts but you’ll do just the same.”
Pam’s shock at the wrenching away of her scanty covering was nothing compared to that of being spun to face the wall, pressed hard against it between two urinals, and having both wrists seized and held above her head in the vice-like grip of Brinley’s left hand. The right one forced its way between her aching buttocks and pressed hard against the tight little knot they concealed. To Pam’s horror it gave under the thrust of a broad, blunt fingertip. Brinley pushed painfully in to the knuckle as Pam twisted frantically, fighting to free her hands from his iron grip. His breath was hot on the side of her face as he leaned closer.
“Oh-ho, a fighter, eh? I like that.”
Pam’s gut lurched. Daisy had said he liked anal. And he liked it rough! He jammed a second finger into her, stretching her sphincter even more painfully.
“Ow! No, please!” The same thick cockhead that had made her mouth gape stabbed at the tight entrance Brinley’s fingers were forcing open. Pam jerked away, only to have her belly flatten against the wall. The cock pressed harder and the fingers tugged free as its tip took their place within the narrow ring of muscle. Only once before had she been penetrated roughly there, and afterwards she had sworn that not even for Rick’s pleasure would she ever allow it to happen again.
Brinley gave a powerful lunge of his hips. A flash of pain made Pam cry out as the shaft’s unlubricated head forced its way past her sphincter. Slowly to begin with, the man worked his cock deeper into the delicate, wriggling membranes of her anus. They contracted reflexively around the thick flesh, intensifying Pam’s discomfort and disgust. He began to thrust. Lips twisting, she cried out but her protests only goaded Brinley to more vigorous efforts and quickened the strokes of his wickedly plunging penis. Pam’s efforts to escape the torment only made it worse and finally she forced herself to stop struggling, laid one cheek to the cool wall tiles and sobbing bitterly, endured.
For long minutes the hurt and degradation continued and her tears flowed. Her anus burned and ached, and each ramming thrust into her cruelly stretching rectum felt like the stab of a knife. Her knees were close to buckling. Through her tears she saw the blurred outline of a tall, uniformed figure in the open doorway. For a second her gaze locked with Drake’s until an especially violent thrust made her throw back her head and cry out. When Pam looked again Drake had gone and the door was closed.
A grunting sigh at her shoulder and a flood of warm wetness in her bowels made Pam hope her ordeal might soon be over. The removal of Brinley’s cock caused more pain and she sank to all fours, breathing raggedly and with her carefully pinned hair hanging loose around her face. It was not over. She knew that. A prod from the toe of the man’s boot got her to her knees and her head lifted to lick his come-smeared shaft clean and replace it in his trousers.
“You were good,” he told her, and she cringed at the condescending smile that came with the words. “I like a bit of resistance in a girl. Well done.”
A coin struck the floor beside her. Stomach heaving, Pam waited until she was sure he had gone, staggered to a washbasin and thoroughly rinsed the cloying, bitter fluids that had coated Brinley’s cock from her mouth. She felt more violated by what he had done than by any of the other torments she had suffered. Yet he had not done it with any animosity towards her as a person – because he did not see her as a person. To him she was nothing but an object to be used, no more than
a receptacle for the slimy semen oozing from her tortured rear.
Weeping quietly, Pam cautiously knelt, recovered her torn loincloth and searched for the pins that had been dislodged from her hair. She was responsible for the loss or damage of anything the Company ‘loaned’ her and could be punished for it. She heard the door open but did not look up. Two shiny shoes appeared next to her and a hand closed on her shoulder.
“Come on, get up.”
Pam continued groping for hairpins.
“Leave them,” Drake said.
“I’ll be punished.”
“No, I’ll see you’re not. You’re okay, it’s over. Brinley never has the same girl twice on a flight. He won’t hurt you again.”
Tears flowed once more as he drew her to her feet and Pam struggled with the shock of the assault that had left her throbbing so cruelly. She wrapped her arms around Drake and pressed her cheek to his broad chest. One of his arms encircled her, his warm hand resting on her left hip. He let her cry for a minute before disentangling her. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and realised what she had done.
“Oh! S… sorry, Sir.” To her surprise his smile held none of its usual sardonic amusement.
“Never mind. I don’t.” He cleared his throat. “Come on.”
Pam staggered as she turned to follow. Her heart leapt as two powerful arms scooped her up and, entirely without willing it, she somehow found her cheek resting on one of Drake’s shoulders.
Chapter Six
Drake carried Ann along the deserted corridor, across to the crew section and down to the dispensary. When no one answered his knock he went in and laid her gently on a padded leather examination couch. She quickly rolled off her wealed bottom and onto her side with her back towards him.
“No sign of the doc, but I can fix you up,” he said. He took off his coat, rolled up his shirtsleeves and washed his hands. His big, blunt fingers felt clumsy when he lightly pressed a cool, damp cloth between Ann’s buttocks. She flinched but did not pull away as he cooled her reddened tissues and wiped away the gooey fluid dribbling from her rear. He used a finger and thumb either side of her sphincter to spread it a little and she shifted uneasily.
“Relax. You’re split, I’m afraid, but not much. You’ll be fine in a day or two.” Drake showed her the little smear of pink that was all that stained the cloth, proof that she only thought her anus had been torn apart. “I’ll put some cream on. It’ll take away the worst of the hurt.”
The tension in her stiff muscles visibly increased and he knew she was forcing herself to keep still as he slowly smoothed cool, sticky ointment onto her rear opening.
“What is it?” she asked hoarsely.
“The same thing you’ve had before but with more Lidocaine. The Company isn’t exactly lavish to its slave girls. You need to loosen up back here so I can do inside.”
“Inside!” Ann jerked her head around to face him and immediately turned back as he looked into her blue eyes. He smiled, though she could not see it. What was it about her that sparked his interest as well as his lust? Her beauty of course, but he had seen plenty of beauties in his time and not felt any desire to talk to them as he wanted to talk to this one, to learn more about who she was and what compulsion had driven her to seek slavery. And he wanted to do more than just talk, as the thickening of his cock was telling him all too clearly. “Relax,” he repeated. “Trust me, I won’t hurt you.”
She looked back at him again and, though he had not yet penetrated her ravaged rear, Drake had the feeling he had hit a nerve. Her eyes were flashing even as she lowered them and not, he knew, in deference to his rank and authority. He was pretty sure she had little respect for either one. In the past, girls of her sort had never shown him anything but acceptance and submission. He still saw acceptance, but it was grudging, and the submission came only because she knew the penalty if it did not. Beneath it was resentment and a defiance she had to battle to contain at times. It was going to get her into trouble if she did not keep it on a tighter rein. Why had she made herself a slave if she was not ready to submit?
The ointment on his finger was beginning to melt. Drake reached down and the girl’s body went taut. She turned her head away. Her sphincter clenched when he tried to probe it.
“I won’t punish you if you don’t,” he told her, “but you need to ease up back here if this stuff is going to do any good.” He heard her sigh and a second later her little rosette slackened. Drake pushed his finger gently into its entrance before she could change her mind. She hissed and tightened a little, then gave a soft grunt as he slid it deeper, smearing the salve over her delicate inner tissues. They contracted briefly before yielding under the pressure of his touch. He should have worn rubber gloves. His finger was going to end up as numb as her rectum, yet he was fully aware of its movements within her and her passivity encouraged him to increase its speed. Ann showed no signs of discomfort. Her breathing had quickened and she had sunk her forehead to the surface of the couch. His erection ached, straining against one leg of his trousers. Once more he felt the urge, the need to hurt her, to take her hard, maybe even in the same way the Englishman had in the toilet so he could hear her cries and see the tears run down her cheeks. Once more, knowing she could not possibly feel any pleasure after what she had suffered, he suppressed his feelings.
Drake withdrew his finger. She had been through more than enough for now. He washed his hands again. Ann lifted her head from the couch. She was breathing fast. “Better?” he asked, and she gave a short nod but did not look up. He held a pill and a glass of water under her nose.
“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.
“It’ll help you get some rest. I’ll excuse you the rest of your shift but you’ll have to be ready for the next one. Do you always question everything?” He smiled to show he was not annoyed, and she took the pill from his hand and swallowed it.
“Persephone Peake gave me Venus Dust.”
He shook his head. “I thought I knew most of them but I’ve never heard of that. What does it do?”
“It’s a… a… stimulant.” Ann blushed and looked as though she wished she had kept silent. She still lay with her bottom towards him, looking back over her shoulder. Her knees were drawn up, displaying not only the rounded curves of her buttocks but also the pouting crescents of her pussy-lips, peeping from between her closed thighs. Drake eyed them and allowed a thin smile to form on his lips. The nipple he could see was dark and erect. She shivered.
“I guess Miss Peake came as a shock,” he said, more to distract himself from the pulsing of the cock in his pants than for any other reason. “She is to most people the first time.”
“We don’t have anyone like her where I come from. At least no one who is so flagrant about their cruelty,” Ann said.
“That’s not what will get her in trouble. She’s asking for a big fine and a public flogging by flaunting her Sapphism. She’s come close twice already and only her money and her lawyers saved her. I’d bet the judge would sentence her to the full hundred lashes, and probably enslavement too. Her flirting and pouting wouldn’t do her much good then.”
The girl gave him an earnest look. “Please, will you tell me what That Kind means? I… I think I have a pretty good idea but I need someone to spell it out. I swear I don’t know. Where I come from we don’t have anything like….” She faltered under his level gaze.
“How can you possibly not know?” he asked, yet her appeal seemed heartfelt and genuine. Drake gave her another smile. “Okay, let’s pretend you’ve lived alone on a mountain top since you were born. Some girls are attracted by the idea of slavery. They’re fascinated by the idea of being owned, or of no longer belonging to themselves, if you like, and of always being subject to another person’s will.” A flicker of some unknowable emotion crossed her face but she showed no sign of recognition, as if she was not wholly aware that he was talking about what she was. “Sooner or later it becomes an obsession. There are places they can g
o and pay to experience it, but that’s not always enough. Some end by wanting to be real slaves. There are plenty of laws they can break that might get them enslaved, but there’s a risk they could just get a fine and a public flogging instead.” He fixed his gaze on Ann’s wide blue eyes. “The one certain way to end up as a slave is to stow away on a ship or an airship. I’m sure you know international law makes the penalty automatic, and the shipping lines don’t make it difficult. It’s a cheap way to get labour. The scientists say the girls have Slavery Obsessive Syndrome, or SOS. Most people call them That Kind. They don’t think they’re crazy, just crazy for pain and sex and servitude.”
Drake glanced down at her out-thrust bottom. “Their pussies are usually dripping when they’re caught. They can’t wait for the discipline to begin. Half of them are coming by the time they’re put on display and many do it when they’re flogged, and not just once either. They would get excited talking about it like this.” He raised an eyebrow. “But you’re not, are you?”
She did not flinch when he smoothed his fingertips over the warm, fleshy swells of her pussy-lips. They were damp, but far from dripping. Ann was still shocked from Brinley’s violation, of course, but Drake had seen other stowaways breathless with excitement after experiencing similar things. She was nowhere near that level of arousal. Her eyelids looked heavy and she seemed too languid to draw away from the pressure of his finger and thumb as they parted her sex. He examined her inner petals and the fleshy little cowl that concealed her clitoris, discovering the bud beginning to emerge amidst its folds. She may not be dripping but she was becoming more aroused, and it was his touch that was causing it. The knowledge gave him a thrill of excitement as he ran one forefinger gently along the smooth-skinned edges of her outer lips.
“Please don’t. I’m really not one of That Kind,” she said drowsily, and her eyelids drooped and closed the moment the words left her mouth.
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