Taken and Mated Page 4

  The commander watched her as her face reddened and she looked down at her feet, even as the implications of his words took their strange hold on the southern regions of her body. The memory of her bottom being filled with warm liquid made her squirm, and she could feel her juices slipping down between her clenched thighs.

  The commander led her back to the room of pools. “The cleaning is necessary in order to facilitate your anal training. You will be cleaned here and then taken to a variety of training stations. I do not have your program developed in full, but you will likely be expected to train in at least five of the skills you see here. Certainly anal, which is our first stop.”

  They moved through a labyrinth of large and small rooms, and Lana’s jaw dropped open in the first and remained that way until the end.

  In the anal training room, she saw a woman on all fours—and evidently, willingly—moaning strangely as a large, rounded object was pushed inside of her. Lana stared at the object, unable to believe that it fit inside of the woman’s backside. Her hole was stretched as wide as a fist, until the object popped inside of her, leaving nothing more than a jeweled end protruding from her bottom.

  Forgetting herself, Lana stared. “How... how does it fit?” she whispered. She hadn’t really meant the question for the commander, but he answered anyway.

  “The plug this girl is being trained with is the size of a Xethian phallus. She is being trained for pleasuring of Xethian workmen. You will of course be trained to the size of your purchaser, but I doubt the Xethians will be able to afford you. Still, Female 71 has been most dedicated to her training and would be the first to tell you she quite enjoys this size of this phallus.”

  Lana’s eyes were wide with disbelief, but the commander did not want to linger on Female 71, and they were walking to yet another table in an adjacent enclave, where two trainers were encouraging another female to relax, while inserting a smaller phallus-shaped object into her bottom.

  The commander pushed her on, not lingering. “This one is at a different stage of her training, as you can see. Your plugs will gradually be increased in size until you can accept the size range of your bidder easily and with enthusiasm and obedience. Obedience, naturally, comes first. But I think you will find, as all our slaves do, that you will be much happier accepting your nature as a female and a breeder and enjoying the submission your nature demands.”

  Lana’s skin felt hot and she flared up inside. Her mouth was open to make a nasty retort before she could control herself. “I think you have the wrong girl, buddy!”

  “This is the perfect time to make you aware of the consequences of your disobedience,” the commander said smoothly.

  He walked her toward a free table at a much quicker pace, and before she had time to think, her restraints were sliding her legs tight against the table, and her arms were stretching out at her sides, pulling her chest tight to the table. The collar’s pull shifted from the rod to the table, and her head was immobilized along with the rest of her, with her head turned to the right. She was bent over the table, naked, and she had a few beats to think about precisely what that meant.

  The spanking began almost immediately, so the first slap landed on her skin before the question, “What the hell are you doing?” had time to leave her mouth.

  The skin of her bottom that had so recently been spanked ignited under the commander’s bare hand.

  He delivered five incredibly sharp spanks with the regularity of a metronome, speaking calmly as he did so.

  “The first level of punishment is a sound spanking with the hand or a paddle. Most owners enjoy delivering this discipline over the knee, as do I, because it elicits the best response. I know many owners will dispense a regular spanking as a firm reminder of their slave’s role, but of course most slaves enjoy this discipline. There is no place to sit in this room, however, so we must do it like this.”

  He finished spanking her and placed a hand on her hot flesh. She blinked away the tears that had welled up in her eyes, though she had not let a single yelp escape her.

  The spanking had been harsh, and it had certainly hurt, but she was nowhere near crying or begging him for anything, she’d have him know.

  “So,” the commander continued. “Going forward, when you are disciplined, I will expect you to thank me. Do so now.”

  Lana made a face. “Thank you?” she spat. “I’m not thank—”

  But her voice was cut off when a new, sharper sting—the bite of a leather strap, the sound of which she recognized from the whipping of animals on her farm—cut straight through the hot throb of her spanking and grabbed her breath from the inside.

  “Ow!” she gasped involuntarily.

  Another whipping, and another, landed in quick succession on her bottom.

  “When you are punished you will thank me, do so now,” the commander told her calmly, punctuating each pair of words with a whip against her bottom. The heat of each strapping added even more heat to her pain, though it seemed impossible that her bottom could burn any more. “Stop! Stop! Okay! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she wailed, fighting against the restraints. “That really hurts! Stop!”

  “Thank me,” the commander repeated, taking a pause.

  “Stop, please—”

  Another whip tore across her flesh.

  “Sorry, no, I meant thank you. Thank you! Thank you!” she sobbed.

  Along with the heat of the spanking, the sting of the whipping, a wave of hot humiliation came over her as she did precisely what she had sworn she would not: submitted. And then, even more humiliatingly, her pussy throbbed and she felt a trickle of her juices run onto her thigh.

  “You forgot something,” the commander said, and he slapped her gently on the bottom. Still, the smack stung against her abused skin.

  “Sir!” she shouted. “Sir. Thank you, thank you, sir.”

  Her eyes overflowed with tears. She was sure she could not withstand one single stroke more, so she prayed silently that the discipline would stop.

  No new bite of leather against her flesh rained upon her, but instead, the wrist restraints released. She stared at her hand, which felt out of control on the metal table now that it was not stretched out and held fast to the surface.

  Her collar and feet did not budge.

  “Rub your bottom,” the commander ordered.

  She tried to look at him, to show that she did not understand, but then she remembered her powers of speech. “Wh-what?” she blubbered.

  “Rub your bottom. Put your hands on your bottom and rub the heat into your skin. Show me that you are very sorry for being such a bad girl.”

  She hesitated. Was he asking her to do what she thought he was?

  “Unless you want another?”

  “No! No, sir,” she howled quickly, and lifted her hands. Uncertainly, she placed them on the skin of her backside. She felt raw, and her hands were hot against her pulsing skin.

  “Rub it,” the commander insisted.

  She began to rub, awkwardly, igniting her burning skin. The sensation, however, felt perversely good, as much as it added fuel to the fire on her skin. And her pussy quivered with delight as she massaged herself, so much so that she almost forgot she was doing it at the behest of the commander, and not merely because she wanted to.

  “That is sufficient,” the commander barked, and her hands were drawn toward the table’s edge, away from her bottom. Her skin cried out to be touched more, and new tears of frustration with herself welled up in her eyes. Why was she behaving like this? Why was her body humiliating her with this response?

  “Have you learned your lesson?” the commander asked gruffly.

  Lana was unsure of what was happening to her, and even less sure of what her lesson was supposed to be. But she knew her bottom would feel like a million hot needles if she protested or said anything but yes, so she squeaked, “Yes, sir.”

  And then, for good measure, though it brought a fresh wave of shame over her, she added quickly, “Thank yo
u, sir.”

  She felt his hand on her bottom, massaging it gently, adding heat to the stinging that moved around her skin in waves. “There we go. Now, you see, you are not as difficult as they made you out to be.”

  He left his hand on her bottom for a few moments, as if to drive the point—and the heat of his touch—home.

  The restraints released, and her hands and feet sprang away from the table with the coiled tension in her muscles. The commander’s hand was against the small of her back as though he had expected her. The ‘leash’ clinked against her collar, and she felt the prod of his stick.

  They were moving on.

  * * *

  The subsequent rooms unfolded before Lana’s eyes to the silence of the commander, who did not seem to think they needed to linger or that the sights required explanation.

  They really did not need explanation, as the purpose of the machines and contraptions and devices she saw, and the trainers who operated them, had already been explained: they were disciplining and training the women in their care to be sexual slaves and breeders.

  To enjoy their submission and humiliation, as the commander had said. It was upon those words that Lana’s mind lingered most; however much she tried to focus on her plans of escape and a spirit of liberation, the words enjoy, submission, pleasure, and discipline mingled together with the images she saw and produced a red-hot pool of pleasurable discomfort in her abdomen.

  As she was led by her leash through the rooms, she saw women were bound by not only the magnetic cuffs she herself was wearing, but elaborate systems of ropes and other materials, forced by their bondage into submissive positions, their genitals on display to be used however their trainers saw fit. And they saw fit to do a great many things: long strings of beads were pulled slowly from inside their bottoms, each one larger than the last. Others were stimulated by something pressed against their pussy, while they were spanked mercilessly by a man with a paddle or a leather strap. Their shrieks were indescribable, indicating both pleasure and pain, and their legs shook uncontrollably against their bondage.

  In one room, bound girls impaled their bottoms on stationary phalluses attached to a wall, their eyes desperate with desire, motivated to ride the phalluses themselves by something unknown—and surely to be revealed to Lana later. Curiosity clawed inside of her as she watched them, wondering what they wanted so badly that they would impale themselves so aggressively. The memory of the object inside of her own bottom ached and throbbed as she imagined herself in the same position.

  The commander paused longest at a girl tied like a hog on a table, bound by layers of rope, a metal ball protruding slightly from her anus. It pressed outward if she moved, pulled by a long metal strip that ran from the ball, along her back, and to the ropes that also suspended her arms. The commander made no comment but gave the impression, as they paused there, that there was something about this particular scene he wanted Lana to take note of.

  In another room, there were women hanging from their bound ankles and wrists, their pussies glistening, their moans like a dull roar from behind the gags in their mouths, as trainers walked along the line of them and slapped them gently or harshly with leather paddles, or used a bullet-shaped device to stimulate their clitoris until their backs arched. But the women seemed to never be given any release, abandoned by the trainers at the last moment to swing in their restraints, muscles tense, moaning from the disappointment of having been brought so close to orgasm and forbidden release.

  Lana’s insides were not reacting as she wanted them to. She was fascinated by what she saw and could not take it all in sufficiently. She wanted to be shocked and outraged.

  She wanted to clench her fists in rage, and instead found herself clenching them to release energy from other parts of her body, where she almost envied them. She found herself wondering what it must be like to be restrained with her legs open and writhe in pained pleasure as a trainer stimulated her almost to relief and then left her to wait for more. Did it ever come? Or was this just endless torture?

  Most of the women she saw, while often bound tightly or restrained, like her, with magnetic cuffs, gagged, and being subjected to all manner of perverse ‘training’ seemed to not be protesting in any real way. Many, in fact, seemed to have been so thoroughly converted as to believe that they were enjoying themselves.

  Lana burned with deliberate anger as soon as they left the training area and entered a more quiet hall, where she could carve out some space to think and subdue the sensations inside her body.

  She would not let it happen to her. No way. She would pretend, if that’s what was required—pretend to submit, to ‘train,’ even to bounce about with a smile on her face like some of these women did. But she would never forget how much she hated the Imperial Guard, and she would fool them into thinking she had accepted her fate so that one day she could escape.

  Her thighs were wet with her juices, and her pussy throbbed, and she fought hard against whatever it was inside of her that was making her feel that way.

  The commander entered another corridor—wherever they were, the complex appeared to be divided into pods where certain activities were designated. This pod was a long corridor of closed doors. He stopped at one and pressed his hand to the biometric screen next to the door to open it.

  Lana’s heart fell; biometric locks were not easy to overcome, nor the sort of system she could easily gain access to.

  The door hissed open and a surprisingly spacious area opened up beyond. The commander led her forward by prodding her into the space. Inside the room were a bed with clean bedding, a small unit with a toilet and sink, and a closet of some kind. It was similar to a prison cell but clean and with small comforts, like the blue glow of the ambient lighting along the edge of what appeared to be a small window. The interior was warm.

  “This is your sleeping pod. I must explain to you that you will return here only if you apply yourself to your training fully during training hours.”

  The magnetic pull of the cuffs around her wrists and ankles released suddenly, and they became more lightweight than seemed possible. They did not, however, release from her body fully.

  She brought her arms to her chest, as though modesty was of any use to her now after so much parading around the complex.

  She could see through the window only blackness and stars. Her heart sank: they were at an outpost, or worse yet, a ship. That meant her return to home would be even more complicated.

  “Do you remember the girl you saw tied on the table?” the commander asked, as though he were asking a casual question to a close acquaintance.

  Lana turned to him, unable to keep the spirited defiance from gleaming in her eyes. She said nothing but jutted her chin slightly. Her insides moved, in spite of her desire to be fiercely defiant, with the same disquieting desire she had felt when she had seen the bound girl.

  “I have asked you a question,” the commander growled, stepping forward.

  Lana’s bottom burned slightly, reminding her of the consequences for defiance. Even so, she had trouble bringing herself to reply, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good girl,” the commander said. “I mention her because she, like you, has a bit of difficulty... remembering... how to behave, and so she is not returning to her sleeping pod after her training. Instead, she will spend the night confined as you saw her.”

  Lana thought of the girl she had seen, of the ball inside of her, of the way it protruded only enough to push against her bottom hole. The memory of the fullness she had only recently experienced inside of herself ignited the same cursed ache she had been fighting all day, and she could feel the humiliating wetness returning between her thighs.

  “I know that I promised you a taste of the discipline you will receive if you are disobedient,” the commander told her. “But I think the point has been made, and I suspect that you will experience discipline for yourself, regardless of the expectations I set for you. Now, you will rest, and begin your training tomorrow. Yo
ur trainer’s assistants will arrive in nine system units. Do you have any questions for me?”

  Lana was dumbstruck. “I... I...”

  “It will come, with time,” the commander explained with impatience. “I want to stress to you that you are here because you have committed a high crime in the Imperial Realm, but you are a very valuable commodity. As such, you find yourself in the enviable position of being able to work yourself into a position of great prestige and luxury, provided that you comply with your training. There are many females in the Realm who would give anything to be where you are. I think you will find, if you give yourself over to it, that you can enjoy learning to play your proper role in the Realm.”

  Lana’s face grew hot with anger, and she sucked her lower lip beneath her front teeth to stop herself from saying anything. She was not sure where the anger emanated from: her fury at being enslaved, at the injustice of the Realm, at their feral, animalistic ideas of ‘proper,’ or at herself, for feeling as she did when the commander said words like ‘discipline.’

  “Do I need to spank you again?” the commander asked her.

  “No, sir,” Lana said quickly, dropping her eyes. “I’m sorry, I... I forgot.”

  The commander stepped backward, and the door behind him hissed open. Lana’s pulse raced as she considered pushing past him, running through the corridors, hiding until she found a way out—

  The commander’s upper lip trembled with a light smile. “I imagine you are thinking if a way to escape, Katalana Scott. I assure you, it is utterly futile. And your punishment will be most severe. Obedience is your best choice now. I will take my leave. Your cycle begins in nine units.”

  The commander stepped into the corridor, and the door hissed shut before Lana could even consider moving toward it.

  Chapter Four