A Spy from Kiran · Part 2

A Spy from Kiran · Part 2 (2/3)
Previous · Next

But the training that had followed had been hard, especially for a woman who came from the ruling classes on Kiran VI. She had never known the feel of a leash, or the position of a servant. It was curious that she had been chosen for the role of a spy, but perhaps they had expected her to be immune to the subtle psychology of being trained as a sexual slave. They had been wrong. Nobody could know how they would feel or behave after a long period of continuous and intensive overload of their sexual circuits. Amanda had grown with the experience, discovering the secret pleasures of submission, and enjoying the feeling of dependence on her masterful escort. A few short weeks on the Pleasure Planet had succeeded in confusing her feelings about sexual domination and slavery, loyalty and obedience.

Her thoughts went to the arena where she had been taught to enjoy her role as a slave. She remembered how the girls had been made to run around the arena, naked, with their wrists cuffed to their necks and encouraged by the accurate flick of a master's whip across their bare bottom cheeks. The more Amanda ran, the more juicy she had felt between her thighs. And then there were the dildo poles, a ring of bulbous cock-shaped heads, glistening with lubricant. She had always struggled as she was lifted onto her dildo pole. The tip would press up into the soft depression of her slippery entrance, but she would resist its penetration. The pressure would grow until she was up on her toes and hardly able to move, clenching her muscles desperately.

She remembered the first time she had felt her master's knowing fingers at her rings, tugging to set her off into spasms of pleasure while the dildo slid smoothly up into her body. She felt her muscles relax instinctively. In a moment the tip was securely lodged in her vulva, and she felt the shaft sliding smoothly up into her. Another time she was struggling to keep her muscles clenched against the tip of the dildo pole when his lash had flicked unexpectedly across her cheeks. The fiery pain brought an instinctive contraction and before she could control her spasms the dildo was firmly lodged in her soft juicy entrance.

At first she had cursed her weakness, but gradually she realised that her own physiology was the great betrayer. It was exciting to resist and struggle, but she had learned to enjoy those brief but intense moments when her body yielded instinctively to her master's skilful control.

Once the girls were mounted on those dildos they were helpless to evade the punishment that inevitably followed. They squirmed on the thrusting perches, while lashes teased their bottoms and curled into their hot little clefts. There would be no mercy until each girl was wriggling wildly, gasping and begging for relief.

It was incredibly exciting to discover instincts, ideas and feelings, desires and wicked pleasures that she had never in her dreams imagined could be real. The weirdest discovery had been that she actually enjoyed losing, in those games of escape and captivity. It was a wild feeling to be captured by a masterful male and used for his pleasure. It was better than any of her youthful fantasies, and she loved the way he had used her body rings to tame her.

Aldon had been trained all his life to become an Escort, to train the slaves, or 'Pleasure Guests' as they were known off planet, that arrived almost daily on Jolan II. It was an honourable profession, requiring abilities that few possessed. An Escort required above all self control, as untrained slaves could be provocative and unruly at the best of times. They would try to deceive, threaten or bribe, but he would have to ignore any such pleadings with an iron will, and a determination to display the masterly control over her body that she would eventually learn to crave. Excessive violent behaviour brought only a deep resistance to conditioning.

A slave who had been treated with vicious cruelty could never be trusted. Pain, like pleasure had to be measured. It took a great deal of patience, and acting ability to succeed with a girl in a short space of time. The most difficult part for many Escorts was to conceal their personal feelings for the slave who was their constant companion for a period of weeks, during which she would learn to worship him as her Master. Any open display of affection would undermine the relationship that had to be defined so exactly, that of Master and slave. There were no exceptions.

Amanda had proved a hesitant, but intelligent charge. She seemed to enjoy bondage, and Aldon had noticed her excitement when he made her wait in her room, restrained by a long leash clipped casually to one or other of her body loops. It was the usual way to keep a slave under control when her Escort was absent. Each room was fitted with a series of cords on self-winding reels, ready to attach to any part of a slave's costume. But he preferred to use the loops, as it would teach her more quickly to know her sensitivity, and discover her helpless dependence on him. So far her progress had pleased him, and she had begun to quiver with excitement, betraying her need as he approached her with a hook or a shackle.

Amanda had discovered pleasures that surprised and excited her. She had discovered the curious freedom to be found in submission, a freedom from the inhibitions to which she had become accustomed on Kiran. She had learned to endure the seeming severity of the most advanced punishments, and she obeyed Aldon without question. She was becoming ever more dependent on his unexpected ways of satisfying her increasingly bizarre appetites. One time he might leave her alone, knowing that she was aroused and wanted sex. Another time he might appear unexpectedly in the middle of the night, and demand her obedience in some scene of pain or pleasure. He let her know that it was his will, not hers that she would have to learn to obey.

Her days were an unending sequence of games, and as she grew more cooperative she was allowed to enjoy new experiences. One had been called the 'spider's web'. This was a very large vertical frame, more than twice Aldon's height. It had long elastic cords attached to each corner, with a large dildo-pole reaching up to its centre. First he made sure she was juicy, and then he suspended her from the elastics, so she was stretched in the centre of the frame, feeling stuffed to the gills with that wicked dildo right up inside her. The elastics allowed her quite a lot of movement, but she soon found the secret of the web. Any movement would start her oscillating, and the dildo would begin working away like a tunnelling machine.

Aldon was always glad to help out, and just in case she seemed to have lost the energy to keep it going, he would encourage her with a few tactically placed strokes of the whip across her bare bottom. He would torment her just enough to let her know that he was in command and a single flick into the sulcus was often enough to set her off again. Then he would just watch lazily, grinning at the sight of her gasping and wriggling while she screwed herself silly on the dildo. She suspected that he was just too lazy to screw her himself, but he usually made up for it later. Sometimes he left her on the web for hours, exhausting her with that interminable cycle of pleasure.

She had almost forgotten the original purpose of her presence on Jolan II, until that fateful day when he had relaxed his vigilance. After pleasuring her, he had fallen into a deep contented sleep, failing to lock her pussy ring to the long slender line that emerged from the steel column in the centre of her quarters. He had not even bound her wrists, or shackled an accessible ankle. It was her first chance to attempt communication with her spy masters in the Federal Fleet, one she could not afford to miss. Somehow she had to get out of this crazy place before she surrendered her will completely. The only way was to make contact. She had not dared to get dressed, as Aldon might have awakened at the slightest rustle of her clothing.

It felt unnatural to be alone in the corridors of the underground city. It was not the nudity; she was used to that. The unaccustomed freedom was a very strange feeling, almost a guilty one. Her master would be angry once he discovered her absence, she reflected, amazed at herself for having such a thought, and at the realisation that she was beginning to care for him in a very serious way. They would never believe this, back at the Academy on Kiran, she thought.

She had crept quietly from her quarters, using the silent skills she had learned during her former days of training in the service of the Fleet. There had not been time to complete her mission. Alarms had sounded and she had run for her life, hiding as groups of guards passed her, slipping away through the maze of open corridors once it was safe. She caught glimpses of guards, each armed with a familiar long pole, with its flexible rubber-hooked tip. She was suddenly conscious of her naked exposure to those rods that were specially made to control a girl slave. The sight of them was enough to start her tingling inside. Distracted for a moment, she lingered too long in the open, and a guard spotted her. She raced down a connecting passage, but they had the advantage, now that she had been seen. Her arousal was slowing her down, but it could not be helped.

She turned a corner to find herself running straight into a group of guards, with more chasing her from behind. Panting with fear and excitement, she shivered as fire slashed under the delicate cheeks of her bottom, her hands instinctively going back to protect herself for a moment. Too late she realised that she had left herself open, as another guard reached between her thighs with a swift expert movement of his hook into her juicy crevice. She gasped at the feel of it slipping between her lips, with a cheeky caress, to find her pussy loop. She squirmed at the delicious sliding sensation as he lifted her loop.

The pleasure was distracting, and a purposeful tug snapped the closure shut with an intimate finality. None of her arts could help her now. The catch was at the far end of the pole, impossible for a hooked slave to reach, and she could never run with that fixture attached to her loop. There was no question of escape, or even passive resistance, but the sensation was more exciting than uncomfortable, and the flexible rubber would soften their harsh tugs of command. She waited helplessly while the other guards approached.

Powerful hands brought her wrists together behind her back. In a moment they were locked securely to her belt, and then she was quite helpless to defend herself. She could expect little mercy from these guards after making them look foolish. It was too late to regret her stupidity, much too late. Those sensual thoughts of capture had been a powerful distraction. The guards were not in a gentle mood, and a sharp tug of the hooked pole left her in no doubt of their anger.

Her efforts to avoid detection had lacked the determination that might have assured her freedom, in spite of her expert knowledge. It had been too much like those pleasure oriented games of evasion and capture that she had learned to play during her training as a slave, when punishment would inevitable follow capture, but pleasure would be the ultimate reward for her submission. She had learned to submit gladly, risking capture for the sexual excitement it would bring and putting the danger out of her mind. In that maze of corridors she might have escaped if she had really tried, but her capture had been inevitable, once she had allowed her pursuers to catch a glimpse of her by lingering just a little too long where she could so easily be seen. Deep down she knew that it had been quite unnecessary to take such a risk, however tempting the impulse.

The trial had been a foregone conclusion, an inexorable process of establishing guilt, and had succeeded in doing so in spite of the unexpected intercession of Aldon pleading for clemency. But clemency was not a serious option in the case of a spy caught in the act of interfering with interstellar communications equipment. Doubts were expressed about her identity: how would a simple farm girl from Lacter know how to operate such equipment? Amanda was questioned on her cover story, and agents were dispatched to investigate her background on Lacter, but there was nothing to connect her directly with the Federal Service. So the decision of the Court had been made and her sentence announced. The Mountain Run was notorious. Only the most desperate offenders were subjected to the perils of the Run, and she knew there were no return tickets.

The trolley carried Amanda steadily, up the mountain, while all of Jolan II watched her progress on the lifelike holovid projection. Her nipples stiffened, bearing loops that jutted proudly to expose her arousal, while she struggled unconvincingly against the mastery of her bonds. As her sex lips thickened, her third loop protruded temptingly from its anchorage in the fleshy ridge within her slit, and she felt extraordinarily vulnerable in her excited state. There would be no escape now, from the horrors that awaited her.

Part 2

The air grew cooler as Amanda drew closer to the ridge at the top of the rocky slope, her naked body fastened to the heavy trolley and exposed to the freshening breath of the mountain breeze. The trolley moved quietly, but its heavy chassis was designed for the carriage of heavy mineral ores, rather than the soft bodies of young girls that it transported regularly up the slope to the Mountain Run. It had been adapted for its present purpose by the addition of a smooth plastic seat mounted in the centre of a heavy steel frame. The frame was shaped and fitted with strong clamps and heavy straps, to secure its reluctant passengers during their short journey up the mountain.

Amanda's struggles made no impression on the smooth motion of the heavy trolley. Her black leather thigh-length boots bore ankle rings that were secured high and wide to part her thighs, every intimate fold of her tingling flesh thus made conveniently accessible for the intimate attentions of her tormentors, and exposed for the meticulous inspection of the millions of enthusiastic viewers who were sharing her ordeal on their holovid screens.

Her arms were lifted and stretched back to clamps on either side of the lightweight yoke around her neck. Her prettily rounded breasts were firm and proud. Her thrusting nipples bore two cheekily uptilted rings, betraying her state of arousal. The pair of soft, deceptively light luminescent loops was a familiar source of sexual excitement.

Between her outstretched thighs a similar loop projected from the fleshy ridge of her clitoris. This was no decorative embellishment, and she squirmed at the delicious sensations it conjured from that tender focus of her pleasure. It did not matter how often she was made a captive. Each time she was led through the city she would have to remain docile while her escort fastened his leash to that exciting loop. Usually her wrists would be bound, either behind her back or to her collar. The gentlest tug of his leash would remind her of the power of pleasure over will. Those exhausting journeys had taught her to respond without question to her Master's slightest command.

Months of such experiences had weakened her resistance to capture until the prospect had become almost an obsession. On that fateful day when she had attempted to communicate with her masters on Kiran, there had been a short chase before she was captured. She might have eluded the guards, but temptation had made her careless and she had lingered in an exposed intersection of tunnels until the guards had sighted her. In spite of her fear she had enjoyed the excitement of the chase. It had seemed like yet another of the pleasure games she had been made to play in the giant underground arena. She had felt a sweet tingling between her legs at the thought of imminent capture.

It had been a shock to turn a corner and find herself confronted by the guards, with more following her close behind. She had stopped abruptly, reminded of her vulnerability by a fiery slash across her bare bottom. When her hands had gone instinctively behind to protect her tender bottom, she had known what would inevitably follow. Her strength had dissolved when the guard had reached out with his long, rubber hook-tipped pole and lifted it expertly between her legs. She had frozen with horrified excitement while its tip had penetrated her juicy slit. She had felt the tingling sweetness of the deft intrusion between her lips. Instinctively she had tilted her hips up to welcome the intruder, helplessly seduced by the sweet stroking sensation. And then had come the inevitable click, as the hook sealed to her ring.

The Slave Catcher pole was a familiar sight on Jolan II, and every girl knew how it felt to become its helpless captive. It was a weapon that no ringed girl could resist. First its touch brought an instant distracting promise of sexual pleasure, then the guard had sealed it to her ring as the sweet fire had exploded through her.

Too late her struggles had become desperate as strong unseen hands gripped her arms, and pitilessly pressed her wrists together behind her back while strong cords joined them immovably together. Once her elbows had been tugged together and secured she was quite helpless. She was conscious of the inviting thrust of her defenceless breasts, knowing they were exposed to the tweaks and pinches of the guards. It had been a short journey, filled with confusing sensations, powerful emotions and heart stopping fear as she had contemplated the prospect of a show trial followed by the inevitable sentence.

The penalty for spying had not changed since the earliest days of recorded history. Amanda had been caught attempting unsuccessfully to communicate with her masters in the Federal Fleet. The outcome of the trial had been inevitable. She had been condemned to the Mountain Run. Her ordeal was undoubtedly choreographed to please the millions of holovid viewers who were already watching her on a live broadcast link. They were probably passing ribald comments on her intimately exposed body, she reflected ruefully. Her painful struggles would be just another entertainment for a quiet afternoon on Jolan II.

The three-dimensional holovision channels on Jolan II offered a variety of sexually oriented entertainment that appealed to the most unusual and varied appetites, whether live or recorded. Visitors had rooms fitted with all around sound, and a large holovision screen. It was no wonder that the guests often preferred to stay in their rooms and saturate themselves with continuous viewing. But still the live shows attracted a large audience of both residents and visitors.

Amanda remembered the long months on Lacter, where she had worked to create a new identity. Only when she had a solid background as a resident of Lacter, had she applied to be a hostess in a resort area on Jolan II. Then had come the medical. She remembered vividly how the smiling doctor had courteously indicated the elevated couch, and positioned her ready for that intimate examination. The straps had seemed unnecessary, until he had wheeled a surgical trolley close to her helpless body. She had responded quickly to his expert hands and before she could protest he had pierced her erected nipples, and the fleshy ridge of her clitoris. Soft, skin-coloured plastic sleepers had remained in her piercings until the long voyage to Jolan II.

The ship's medic had replaced those sleepers with curious plastic loops, and sealed them in place. The loops were light enough to protrude at all sorts of provocative angles, unlike heavy rings made from the many precious metals that proliferated on Jolan II. They were comfortably flexible, and their luminescent colours flowed like an artistic display that altered with heat and flexing. Amanda soon found that their light and comfortable softness was an illusion. The soft rings were virtually indestructible, as far as she could tell.

The voyage had passed quickly. Amanda remembered the preparations for the shuttle trip down to the spaceport on Jolan II. Her coverall had been removed. She had been fitted with a belt, choker, cuffs and anklets, and a provocatively short skirt. The straps snapped tight around her limbs, and there was no obvious way to remove them. Each was generously fitted with rings and other devices that seemed more business-like than decorative, but she felt quite comfortable in the bizarre costume. The surprise had come when the girls were escorted from the shuttle to the terminal. Amanda was not used to the feel of her body rings in planetary gravity.

Her skirt lifted to expose the pretty under-curve of her bottom and the tantalising ring that moved with a will of its own, between her legs. Her nipple rings jiggled with a similar disregard for her sensitivity as she hurried forward, conscious of the admiring glances she was attracting, but oblivious of the true significance of the bizarre costume she was wearing.

Reality had come like a thunderclap, when Aldon had collected her at the terminal. He had spun her around like a toy. By the time she recovered from the surprise, her wrists were secured to the back of her belt. Casually he had clipped a leash to the loop between her legs, and the pleasure had suddenly blossomed until she had almost fainted. Gasping, she had staggered forward as he tugged her leash. It was hardly the kind of welcome she had expected. It had surprised her then, to experience such excitement as a helpless captive being led off to an unknown destiny.

Now that she had become used to such treatment, that excitement had become mixed with other emotions, but each new experience of submission brought more dreams and fantasies. The game had become irresistible during the months of slave training that she had endured since her arrival on the Pleasure Planet. There had been lessons in the sexual arts. She had discovered her capacity for the surging sweetness of pleasure mingled with the fire of pain. She was no longer the young innocent who had been recruited into the service of the Space Federation Fleet. But all she had learned meant little now that she was destined for the Mountain Run.

Amanda's flesh tingled, when the trolley halted at the top of the mountain ridge, beneath a frame that swung from an overhead cable. She strained her tightly imprisoned neck to follow the cable down the mountain slope and into a break in the forest below. Around her was a group of leather-clad guards, whose heavily armoured costumes were in brutal contrast to her soft and helpless nudity. Steel and leather protected them while the same materials removed her defences. Coupled with their impressively bulging muscles, it was overkill, but somehow it excited her. There was nothing fair in war, she thought, conscious of her visible state of arousal, seemingly inviting their attentions.

That invitation did not go unheeded. Her lovely mound was parted, the soft pinkness of her inner flesh glistening with her readiness. Cod-pieces opened and the first guard grinned as his rigid cock found her entrance. She squirmed helplessly as the firm pressure opened her then filled her deep with a delicious smooth thrust. The strokes were long, hard and quickened as his pleasure came. With each stroke his groin pressed hard against her ring, and she cried out with pleasure. One by one they enjoyed the exciting hot friction of her soft pussy, pleasuring her until each one came in a spurting grunting climax.

At last she surfaced in a sea of grinning faces. As they fastened their clothing she looked around, suddenly aware of her vulnerability to the peculiarly threatening machinery that surrounded her, and the juices that dripped from her well-used pussy. Her view was framed by the shiny black leather of her thigh-length boots as the preparations were quickly completed. As she drank in the rippling muscles of her captors, she still shook with excitement. Would that be the last time she would enjoy the thrust of a human cock?

A Spy from Kiran · Part 2 (2/3)
Previous · Next