Decima Rising

by Jennifer Campbell

  “Because I am a keeper, a remarkable one just like you said. Decima, keepers are charges with keeping slaves, now you can decide to beat your charges, inciting their obedience and their undivided hatred, or you can make their servile lives a little easier, inciting their gratitude and desire to please. I choose the latter method.”

  I had never thought keepers could be like that.

  * * * *

  Claretta hung from the ceiling, like she had every suns for the last seven. On these suns her position had been changed so she hung upside down from her ankles, but that was of no relief as it only brought fresh pain to slightly different places. Her naked, striped body was not quite perpendicular to the floor, as cords had been attached to clamps on her nipples and labia lips and they were tied off to the wall in front of her. They were just shortened enough to use the weight of her own body to pull her of the natural perpendicular inflicting pain on her intimate parts.

  Time had already lost all meaning for her, and in her agony-soaked mind she thought it was approaching the time she would be taken down to be fed, watered and fucked by her keepers. Her life had degenerated to hanging, feeding, and fucking then hanging again. Knowing she couldn’t take much more she wondered. Decima, my Decima, where are you? Will you abandon me?

  * * * *

  Decima always loved being bathed. To her the taking away of a slave’s right to maintain her own hygiene was a delight. All her life strong male hands had bathed her, oiled her, combed out her golden hair, shaved her pubis when needed, and even cleaned her when she bled at her breeding time every ninety suns.

  Fresh and clean, she felt Janus’ hands drying her, and then on every part of her body oiling her to a delightful scent. Do all imperials receive this sort of care, or only the ones Janus cares for? She could feel the attraction and trust in her keeper growing, but she knew she must be careful not to let it interfere with her serving her real Master, Captain Gaius.

  Janus was combing out her hair when a knock came on the door. He rose to answer it, and after some heated discussion, the details of which she could not make out, he returned with her nipple leash.

  “It seems that your Master has been invited to Marinus’ quarters tonight for a dinner party. You are to serve as the table’s centerpiece. This task is a difficult one requiring much sexual use which will have you supremely aroused but frustrated. So you will be better able to tolerate the frustration, I’m going to force a few climaxes out of you. Stand up and spread your legs wide, Take a hold of me if you need to, and come as many times as you can.” Janus poured some of the scented oil on his hands to lubricate them, and went immediately to grasp her clit bulb when she stood.

  This was all outside of Decima’s experiences with Masters. For a keeper to be servicing her to several orgasms was so backwards. Letting her obedience guide her, she stood, gasped when he grasped her sex bulb, and groaned when his fingers slipped deep in her slave cunt.

  As he worked on her, her thoughts melted away as she became a toy, being played with. As his three fingers probed deep in her slit, Decima squealed with utter delight as the first climax built rapidly inside her. Under a coordinated onslaught from Janus’ experienced hands and fingers, she found herself on the razor’s edge of her climax at breathtaking speed. As the pulsing waves of orgasmic excitement rolled over her, she felt her thighs quake and grasped him tightly for support.

  “Ohhh, J . . . anus . . .” That was all that got out before her first orgasm overwhelmed her making her clutch him tightly. However, she noticed Janus did not stop, but instead reached his delightfully long fingers deeper into her sex tunnel. What does he want? To give me more pleasure.

  What Janus was reaching for was a suppressed secret on Ranexx; the female orgasmic spot. This male dominated society did not encourage female pleasure over male, but a small number of keepers, men so intimately in touch with their charge’s bodies, had discovered a swollen bump of tissue deep in the sex passage of Ranexxian females that when fondled produced mind-shattering orgasmic bliss.

  Janus found the spot inside Decima and she spent a second time, rolling her eyes back into her head at the increased force of this sequel orgasm. Fully aware of her biology, Decima looked at Janus’ face and felt a hot flush pass through her body. Instantly, she knew what had happened, and realized it was perhaps inevitable that it would have. Decima had imprinted on Janus, and now nothing could stop her from yearning for him.

  She had succeeded like Allus had desired, but now this sudden and unexpected imprinting on her new keeper was going to put all her success at risk, as she would be unable to think of Captain Gaius, the Emperor, or anyone above this common keeper. In essence her priorities had been turned upside down.

  Janus looked down at his charge, and took in her flustered look of sexual climax and something more, something he had seen before. “Decima, did you just have a hot, flushed feeling?”

  What do I say to him? If I admit it he’ll know I’ve imprinted, and what good would that do? Decima decided it was best to blame her look on her climax. “No, Janus, it was just the orgasms you gave this slave, so powerful.”

  Janus placed his fingers, still fragrant with her juices, at her lips, and Decima did what pleasure slaves do, licking them of her lusty discharge. He snapped the clamps of her leash upon her nipples and again looked at her suspiciously. “You’re sure nothing different happened just now; you don’t feel differently toward me.”

  I have to lie, for the truth will only complicate matters. However, as she went to deny what she knew to be true, she felt a feeling of apprehension welling deep in her belly. Can I lie to he who I have imprinted on? This biological joining, unique to Ranexxian women had made lying to her love the hardest thing she had ever done; harder than a dozen hard strokes of the cane.

  “This . . . this slave is fine, Janus, what is she to do next?” She knew what she wanted to do next; drop to her knees and worship his cock, making love to it with her mouth.

  “Okay, well, do your best tonight, your orgasms should take away some of the sexual tension. Marinus’ keeper is here, waiting impatiently, so you must go, but I will wait up for your return, to see how you did.”

  Yes, he’s going to wait for me. A feeling of warm love trickled through her and she had to remind herself that he was her keeper simply doing his duty. In an instant, the focus of my life has changed, to someone I’m not allowed to focus upon, but at least I’ll see him regularly and he’ll touch me, use me.

  Janus led her to the door, and passed the leash to a short, brown-haired keeper who snapped it impatiently. “Come, slave, we have little time to prepare you.”

  “Easy, Nolar, take care of her, I want her back as I gave her. Understand?” Janus warned, and Decima pulsed at hearing he cared.

  The man merely nodded, and walked away setting a quick pace for Decima to follow if she didn’t want to have her nipples yanked. Decima was trained to walk out in front of a Master as was the custom, but this keeper set his own pace and had little interest in observing custom.

  Decima Rising

  Chapter Six

  Working their way through the maze of corridors that Decima could still make no sense of, they were suddenly stopped by an officer of the Imperial Guard. “You, come with us, to witness a punishment.” He pointed at Decima and Nolar immediately began to protest the delay.

  “This is your commander’s marked slave, on her way to be displayed as centerpiece at a dinner party.”

  The officer laughed. “A dinner party you say, well, does that compare with the enforcement of discipline amongst the imperials. NO! It does not, and for your information, all who wear the purple collar are ultimately the property of the Emperor, and thus the Empire. You may accompany us too, so you may take your charge with you as soon as the punishment detail ends, but she is going with us.”

  Throwing up his hands in frustration, Nolar acquiesced, clipping Decima’s leash to the back ring of the collar of the last slave in the procession. Decima was no
w part of a long single file of imperials being lead to the outside punishment yard.

  Upon arrival at the yard, Decima saw a short-haired brunette who was already in tight wooden stocks, with her head down. The three guards were busy discussing the punishment, so Decima whispered to the girl beside her. “Do you know what she did?”

  The answer came back swiftly. “A fight between her and Selina, the girl at the front of the line, broke out in general slave quarters. This girl simply attacked Selina, and struck a guard when he tried to separate them. She would have got a simple quick flogging for fighting, if she had not struck the guard, but now it will be much worse for her.”

  “Which one is Selina?” Decima whispered to the slave girl beside her. Surreptitiously the girl pointed at a young blonde imperial seven girls down the line. As Decima looked at Selina, she saw her own blue eyes, and like-sized breasts; close to a carbon copy. Then she turned and saw the guard lift the to-be-punished girl’s head by her hair. Oh, no, it can’t be, but it is. It’s Giselle.

  How the horrible sequence of event had played out seemed clear to Decima. Still angry from the loss of her marked status, Giselle had attacked a Decima look-a-like, in slave quarters, and her rage had been so overwhelming she had struck a guard who tried to stop her venting. It was the last thing a slave wanted to do. Perhaps the guard represented Gaius to her, and she was striking back for his discarding of her. Either way, she’s going to have hell to pay now. I feel sorry for her, but there’s nothing to be done.

  Decima watched the guards work on the painful embellishments being attached to Giselle’s body. The one guard had lifted the head so that another could insert two small, metal hooks in her nostrils. Thin chains ran tautly upward from her nostrils, over her head, and through a notch in the top center of the stocks. They continued down her back until they both connected to a much larger metal hook that had been impaled in her anus. This forced Giselle to keep her head erect so as not to pull painfully at either her rectum or nostrils. I can’t even imagine what that is like.

  Now the third guard began to hang metal weights from Giselle’s nipple clamps, and as the tortured imperial groaned and wailed openly in protest of the nasal-anal connection, the weights danced wildly tormenting her tender nipple flesh further. Now the most muscular of the guards stepped up behind her with a thin, twin tailed whip which he put to work brutally on her ass and the backs of her legs. This started Giselle to flailing as wildly as she could, for the pain must have been sheer agony, but her motions to avoid it only caused more pulling and stretching of her anus and nostrils, and the excruciating dance of the nipple weights.

  As Decima watched, helpless to stop the torment, Giselle seemed to gain an understanding that the best she could do is to take the pain of her whipping stoically, with as little movement as possible. However, such behavior was easier said than done, and Giselle would maintain her stillness for a few moments and then a harder stroke would fall forcing her body to writhe and squirm naturally, and provoking the greatest pain.

  Decima whispered again, as the guards were busy. “How many lashes must she take?” Certainly she can take no more than twenty, if that.

  “Twenty five is the minimum for striking an imperial guard, but the guard may ask that she receive more, and usually gets exactly what he asks for.”

  Decima watched in horrified fascination as the strokes passed twenty five, to thirty and beyond. Giselle was nearly unconscious when all forty strokes had fallen, but a bucket of briny ice water was tossed over her to revive her and make the whip marks sting horribly. Removed from her torment, she was further humiliated by being forced to crawl on her belly back to slave quarters. They left the weights to dangle from her distended tits, and they occasionally let loose with a stinging flogger stroke to hasten her progress.

  Decima felt nothing but pity, but that did Giselle little good. It must be difficult to have fallen so far so fast, but she must gather herself and save what she has left. Once they got back inside the palace, Nolar anxiously looked at the imperial officer, pointing to Decima, and with a wave of the officer’s hand Decima was detached from the line and was once again on her way to Marinus’ quarters.

  Once they got there the flurry of frenzied preparations took Decima by complete surprise, but when she was finally ready she had been oiled to a high sheen, her skin glistening for maximum sexual attraction. She found herself lying on her back ball-gagged and blindfolded, strapped at the waist and just below her breasts to a long banquet table. Although she could not see the food, she could smell the many dishes and platters assembled around her. With her head flat to the table, she found she could not move it, as her hair was clamped and held in some way. Her arms were also useless to her, as they were held within the tight straps that held her torso. Her legs were held upright and spread by poles jutting diagonally upward from the tabletop, so she could not move them either.

  A breezy open air feeling on her oil-slick cunt gave her the clue that indeed even her intimate holes were displayed for better viewing. Her labia lips were indeed held open with cruel clamps held by chains running down from her belly strap. Although the party had not yet started, her pleasure bulb had already started to engorge from handling by the keepers who hand bound her. She now understood why Janus had given her release before this began, as without it she would already be in a sexual frenzy.

  Janus, I can’t stop thinking of him, being near him, feeling his touch, touching him. This is the hell of imprinting on a man other than your Master.

  When the party began, Masters filed past her decorative body as they filled their dinner plates, and they would touch and titillate her unmercifully, making her gasp for a moment with delight, and then swoon as the stimulation stopped or pain was applied. I’m not sure I can take this all night without coming, but am I allowed to climax? Being gagged, I can’t ask.

  She didn’t have long to contemplate the question before she realized there was something more diabolical she would have to endure. Hearing a noise, she likened it to the sound of someone stepping down hard on a pedal. However, with the noise came the penetration of her body as whatever they had pressed made a large greased dildo rise up from under the table, through a small hole, to thrust deep into her perfectly positioned anus. After a few strokes of the false cock, Decima realized the noise of the pedal always preceded penetration. She reasoned they must be operating some kind of bizarre mechanical foot pump to skewer her butt.

  As the night wore on, more sexual tortures were added, as guests would frig her or stroke her clit at their leisure. Yet almost everyone who played with her, raising her arousal to insane levels, would slap her clit when they were through to remind her that she was not to climax. She even caught parts of a conversation between two male voices that seemed to be betting on her orgasm,

  “Two hundred kraya says she quivers before mid-moons. After all she’s new; it’s her first suns of duty.”

  Soft laughter and then a deeper voice responded, “Yes, but she’s a work of Allus, and the man is a miracle trainer. I once sent him a pretty house slave I was having difficulties with when I took her rose hole, and I got an anal slut back. I’ll raise the wager to five hundred kraya and say she lasts until Gaius gives her release.”

  “You’re on. Do you really think she can last that long?”

  Decima didn’t hear and answer to the question, but she was happy with the scraps of information she had garnered. My Master is here, and at some point he will give me release. I wish it were Janus, but at least I will be satisfied, sometime.

  Decima also felt some strange things too, but she dismissed them as the fetishes of some of the palace’s residents. One tongue licked her feet, and another licked her ears, and both did little to her but tickle. One passerby mentioned a Taliana, who as best she could make out had been an Allus-trained slave who had ascended to consort. It wasn’t until another remarked that perhaps two successive Flavius family Emperors would have Allus-trained consorts that Decima realized Allus
had played this game with consorts before. He trains slaves to be consorts to the highest officials of the empire, and this retains his family’s favored status. How many generations have he and his ancestors played this risky game.

  The game was risky. She knew because only male children were of any importance to the Emperor, as any female children a consort bore were slave infants, and would be sent away to be raised, their true parentage hidden forever. There could be any number of female imperial offspring walking around the Empire at this very moment, but they were all slaves, and they had no idea whom their father was. To a consort, bearing one female child was perhaps a forgivable mistake, if the Emperor was of good humor, but bearing a second meant disgrace and removal from her position.

  Decima eventually lost track of time in this repeating cycle of arousal and frustration, so when a particularly strong set of hands touched her, fondled her breasts, and let finger slip inside her, she thought it to be more sexual torment. However these hands worked with a purpose, pumping her slave cunt and squeezing her bulbous clit as the dildo ravaged her ass. She dissolved into tears when she realized this must be Gaius, come to release her.

  Like a demon possessed, Decima writhed against her bonds and screamed as she was caught in the pounding of a sexual explosion, washing away her bells of silent frustration. The table shook with the applause of dinner guests as they showed their approval of her sexual dynamic. The hands that had freed her from sexual hell removed her blindfold and ball gag, and towering over her was her Master, Gaius. He reached down and released her straps and the clamps that held her blond tresses, and even assisted her to sit up.

  With a dozen or so finely dressed male officials crowding around her she was not sure what she should say, or even if she should speak. Yet certainly I should thank Master for my orgasm. She was about to speak when he grabbed her by her hair and bent her over, skewering her ass with his cock, He rutted in her and came, passing her off to the next Master.