Decima Rising
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Selena Kitt
Decima Rising © 2008 Jennifer Campbell
eXcessica publishing
All rights reserved
Decima Rising
By Jennifer Campbell
Decima Rising
Chapter 1
Decima awoke in her cage as usual, and she looked about at her blonde-haired sister slaves to see if any of them were awake. In the early morning before their keepers came, was one of the few times that they could talk freely, speaking quietly of the hopes, dreams, and nightmares of slaves. Entirely naked of course, Decima wore a band of bright yellow leather fitting snugly around her neck with matching leather wrist and ankle cuffs. Decima had worn these colorful restraints for two years marking her as the property of Governor Doleman Allus of the rich province of Abundacium . The foremost province of the Empire on the world that was Ranexx, the Governor was virtually second only to the Emperor himself in power.
As Decima scanned the slave quarters, she noted various shades of lovely blonde tresses on her sister slaves. This was not coincidental; it was rather Allus’ fetish, as the premiere slave trainer of the Empire only working his miracles with flaxen-haired beauties. As Decima looked down at her own long golden strands, she wondered why hair color was so important to him.
Unfortunately none of her fellow slaves were yet awake to talk to, so Decima’s mind drifted back to the suns, two season’s past, when she had first arrived at the Governor’s mansion. She was but a fledgling pleasure slave, trained in a basic manner at a school, but not yet indoctrinated to the rigors of her new Master’s strict routine. After removing her from her cage, the very first thing they had done with her was to place her back to a stout pole, and bind her to it with course rope from the waist up. Then keepers raised and spread her legs, binding her ankles to shorter poles. Now spread and displayed like she was to be sold, Decima saw then hang a sign on the pole over her head. Her introduction to her new Master’s routine was to be used, all suns long, by any man entering or leaving the mansion, for the sign was indeed an invitation to use her with the Governor’s compliments. I shall never forget those past suns, as they taught me more in that short time than two seasons of school had. It became so clear in my mind that I was but a tool of Master’s pleasure. Many suns later, Decima had discovered all her sisters in Allus’ harem of pleasure slaves had experienced the exact same first suns. There were apparently no exceptions to this rule.
However, now, as the twin suns of Ranexx rose slowly in the southern sky, Decima had risen to the first position amongst Allus’ herd of slave girls. Impeccably trained as a sexual machine, she was poised at the critical moment in her life. In a few short suns, she would depart for the Imperial Palace where she would compete to become an imperial pleasure slave. Yet Allus had even higher ambitions for her, the highest in the Empire, as he had drilled and prepared her to someday be consort to the Emperor himself. As all Ranexxian females were slaves, there was no higher position a female could hold.
However, Decima thoughts of her impending departure had sadness mingled generously with her natural excitement, for it meant leaving behind someone very special to her. Once I leave for the palace, will I never see Claretta again?
“Good suns to you, Decima, true holder of my love. Time is short before your journey. Are you excited?” The girl speaking to Decima had shoulder-length ashen blond hair which ran all the way down to her bottom cheeks. In the dapple of sunslight that came down through the skylight upon them, Claretta’s gray eyes tried to look happy for Decima, but sadness lurked in her eyes too.
“Yes, Claretta, I am excited. How could a slave not be? It is the opportunity for a better life, and what I have been trained for, but . . . will we ever again hold each other tight?”
Claretta blushed, not easy for a naked, bound sex slave to do, and pursed her lips in a kiss wishing she could actually kiss her slave lover. “I know not, but we can hope still.”
Although Decima, Claretta and the other nine girls were not gagged, they were bound, even though they slept in metal cages. This would seem redundant, and overly cruel, but it was due to the nature of Ranexxian females that as a premise of slave training, it had to be done this way. They all rested on their bellies in their cages, wrists and ankles clipped tightly to the four corners of their cage. This was done because Ranexxian females had ravenous sexual appetites that if left unchecked would compel them to satisfy themselves, thus taking a facet of control out of the trainer’s hands. Allus had learned a long time ago that sexually frustrated, supremely aroused females made the best sex slaves, as they would do anything to satisfy their desire once their clits had swelled to the size of a grown man’s thumb. These huge sexual buds were quite normal for Ranexxian females, but Allus knew if her left them unbound in their cages under the nine moons of Ranexx, they would bring themselves to orgasm after orgasm and be quite sated by suns rise.
Claretta asked the question foremost on her mind. “You know Master best, Decima, do you think he will grant us play once more before you leave. I pray to taste of you once again, to have those sweet memories to cling to?” Claretta’s voice fairly swooned with her desire for what their Master referred to as play.
Slave to slave sexual contact was officially forbidden in the Empire, as it was seen as another thing distracting slaves from their sexual duties. However, again Allus was somewhat ahead of the curve on this matter, as he used the forbidden female to female contact as a reward to his pleasure slaves, and referred to it as play. When many suns passed with no disobedience from any of his charges, Allus would allow them to sample each others nubile bodies.
“Cassandra is due back from isolation punishment today, so all twelve of us will be present. It is possible Master will wish to motivate me, and he knows how much I love play. We shall have to wait and see.” Decima dismissed all other thoughts from her mind and asked Claretta the question she most wanted to hear her thoughts on.
“Will you miss me, Claretta?”
Claretta sighed, heaving her chest which caused her soft breasts to pinch each other. Claretta squirmed to relieve the pinch, and then she spoke softly but with feeling. “Like I would miss the suns should they fail to rise or my leg if Master were to take it from me? I love you, you know that. Do you think a slave can imprint on a slave?”
Smiling at the noble and resolute answer, Decima thought about what Claretta was asking. I do not know, but I would think it possible. She told me she lied to Dracmus, telling him she had imprinted on him, but does that mean she thinks . . .
“If you did imprint on me would you invoke Deathmatch to claim me if it were allowed for a slave to do so? I would fight and die battling Dracmus to win you, so would you grieve for me?
Now the two slave lovers were engaging in pure fantasy, as on Ranexx, imprinting was the process by which a slave biologi
cally locked her love and desires on one male. Whether or not a female could imprint on a female was unknown, and would be actively punished if it did happen.
Deathmatch was an ancient rite of Ranexxian males, seldom invoked these days, whereby two males who claimed ownership of the same female would enter a pit to fight to the death for the possession of a slave girl.
Claretta hissed out her reply. “Yeeesss! I would grieve for you, but it would not be necessary, as you would win, vanquishing Dracmus, and claiming me as yours. If only it could be so for us.”
Decima sighed. “Yes, a quick decision, death or winning your heart’s desire, it is an acceptable bargain, but the Masters would never allow such things. Instead we shall be forced to live lives without each other, and face a gray sadness inside. Let us make a promise to each other, should we bear a slave child we will name it with our lover’s name, as the Master’s do not care about slave names. This way each time we look upon our child, we can remember each other.”
“I promise, my love.” Tears rolled down Claretta’s cheeks at the likelihood they might never see or touch each other again after Decima departed for the palace. Wiping her eyes, Claretta looked at Decima, but her lover seemed to be lost in thought.
I see no chance of things working out from here? The life of a slave can be so hard.
Decima’s thoughts and their conversation were interrupted by the tolling of the waking third bell of the Ranexxian suns. Moments later came a creaking of the door to the slave quarters, as three male keepers entered, clad in their usual yellow tunics, and leading a chained slavegirl. The girl seemed dazed as she stumbled along her neck jerked occasionally to by the last keeper. Her body was covered with angry red welts of a crop and the long red stripes of caning. The middle keeper pushed a cart laden with ten food bowls and ten water bowls, which would serve as breakfast for Allus’ harem.
All eleven of the caged slaves knew Cassandra, who had been sent to an isolation cell for seven long suns for disobedience. In the stone cell in the mansion’s dungeon, Cassandra’s head had been placed in a wooden box which permitted no sound or light to intrude within. Chained in a standing position with her feet and wrists spread wide apart, Cassandra’s body was punished intermittently while receiving only water as nourishment. To accomplish this, a tube was inserted once a day through a closable hole in the box. As Cassandra approached, her battered and confused condition reminded all girls of the horrors of the isolation cell, as they all had been there at one time or another.
Jomar, the cruel head keeper, raised his voice to rouse any slaves still sleeping. “Rise, slaves, new suns of service greet you. Your Master wants you all ready and groomed for a small ceremony for Decima at eleventh bell. We are all honored to be sending Decima off with the next suns, and your Master has a surprise for you all. No training for you, Decima, Master wants you to attend him.” Jomar smiled slyly at Decima, his dark face beaming a message to her. He will have me today, as he usually does.
The room, stone-walled and lit by a skylights, was now a flurry of activity, as the three keepers went about opening cages, unbinding ankle and wrist cuffs, and checking exposed slits for telltale signs of the moisture of female arousal. Unfortunately, a girl who was not dry might be accused of having climaxed and punished accordingly, even if she had not done the deed.
Already removed from her cage, Decima watched from her knees as the keeper Dracmus bent down to pull Claretta from her cage. Once he got the girl out, he pushed her down, forcing her breasts and face to press against the stone floor. Unceremoniously, he took her cleft, entering to a moan from Claretta.
Decima knew it was a keeper’s right to use a slave whenever he wanted to, but as she watched Dracmus she wondered if his behavior would be different if he did not believe Claretta had imprinted on him. Claretta’s lie to Dracmus virtually assured him of eventually owning Claretta when she had past her prime as a sex slave in Allus’ service.
Is imprinting a miracle or curse for us? In one way, loving a Master makes it easier to serve, but if a slave imprints on someone who is not her Master life can become a living hell. Have I done that, by imprinting on Claretta? If so, I am going to suffer mightily.
The slave girls were herded, on their knees, into a line where the food and water bowls were lined up before them. Decima was both hungry and thirsty, but she had another urgent need which she simply had to beg to satisfy. Bowing her head, she called out loud to the keepers.
“Master, may this slave have leave to pee?” It was a simple request, but Decima knew it would involve degradation for her. On Ranexx, a slave did not even have the right to pee without a keeper’s permission. Long ago, bodily functions had become tools of humiliation for slaves.
Jomar looked down at her crossly, for ruining his finely-balanced symphony of movement. His annoyed response came back. “Do any others need to pee, or must we stop only for Decima? Almost in a chorus, all the slave girls indicated their need. Decima had opened the door for them all.
“Go fetch a bucket, Decima, and serve your sisters before yourself.”
When Decima saw poor Cassandra salivating uncontrollably at the sight and smell of the food in front of her, she felt guilty, so she scampered on her knees across the room to fetch one of several wooden buckets stored there. Hurrying back, she saw her sister slaves assuming the required squat with knees open, and she placed the bucket between the knees and under the crotch of the first girl in the line.
Instantly the girl made her request to Jomar. “May this slave pee, Master?”
Jomar simply nodded and a gush of urine flowed from the girl as she sighed in relief.
When the girl’s flow stopped, Decima took the bucket and continued down the line. She watched as one by one all her sisters gushed forth their urine in front of her while her bladder bulged with need.
Finally it was her turn, and she squirmed as she asked for her permission. “May this slave pee now, Master?”
However, no response came from Jomar at first, forcing her to continue to deal with the growing urgency. Decima knew Jomar was jealous of her perfect obedience, and being the petty man he was he would try to take advantage of her as much as he could. This would be one of those times.
“Not yet, Tolar, fill the slave’s ass before she pees.”
Damn him, he’s going to get his pound of flesh.
The tall, dark-haired keeper Tolar barked out a command, which Decima instantly obeyed. “Spread those pretty cheeks.”
Obediently, Decima used her hands to spread her ass cheeks. Tolar knelt behind her and wormed two fingers up her anus. With her ass filled with Tolar’s fingers, Decima finally heard the words that would bring much needed relief.
“Permission to pee granted.” Jomar said with a chuckle.
She gushed out her flow, into the bucket, and when it trickled to a stop her face was flushed from the almost sexual experience. She gave Jomar a defiant look, but she knew he had more in store for her.
Jomar gave the command to eat, and in perfect unison, the twelve lovely faces descended to their individual bowls, pushing into the food and gulping down mouthfuls. Like everything pleasure slaves did, they ate with great passion like animals for they were always famished when fed. Soon the smacking of lips changed to the slurping of water, as manners were of no importance to these slave girls.
With a trained precision, those girls who finished first waited until all their sisters were done, and then they rose together to have their messy countenances wiped of excess food and moisture. Dracmus was doing the wiping, and he did as much fondling as he did wiping.
“Dracmus, Tolar take the others to the training room. I will bring Decima to the Great Hall. Do not forget the Governor’s instructions and make sure all is ready by eleventh bell.”
Decima watched from her knees as her sisters rose, formed a single file to have their nipple leashes snapped on. After attaching the clamps to each nipple, the keepers slug the twin chains of the leads over the shoulders of each
girl to clip them to the collar of the girl behind her. When the line of eleven lush slavegirls was led out of their quarters, it was easy for one man to walk behind the line and control all the girls intimately. On Ranexx slave girls traditionally walked out in front of their Masters like a pet displaying their body, but she was always under the painfully intimate control of the nipple leash.
Decima’s blue eyes followed the sexy sway of Claretta’s ass until the door obscured it from her sight, and then she turned to look at Jomar. Smiling lecherously, Jomar spoke with thunderous authority. “Assume the position, Decima. You know the one I mean, the one you’re so used to.”
This was why Decima hated Jomar. Yes, the man was petty and cruel, but so many keepers were that Decima could have looked beyond that, if his huge cock had not raped her anus every suns for the last two seasons. But there’s nothing to be done except endure, as he has the right to use me as he wishes. Assuming the breasts down, ass up position Jomar loved to take her in, she heard him spit once on her rear hole before he drove his shaft deep in her bowels. I don’t resent his use, as it is my purpose to provide pleasure, but I wish just once he would let me touch myself and come while he was in my ass. However, Jomar had never allowed her this small compensation, and he grabbed her hands now, holding them together and pressed to her back, so she could not touch her clit.
It was as if Jomar was sending Decima a calculated and cold message. You may leave and become and imperial, serving greater men than I, but while you are in my power, I will have you every day in the most humiliating way possible. Like I own you, slut.
To Decima his message came in loud and clear. Every time he spurts in my bowels, I feel used and unfulfilled. However, this time she notice a slip on his part; after he finished with her, he neglected to clean out her rear tunnel of his semen. Has he become overconfident, too sure of himself.
Decima Rising Page 1