Enslaved

Rebeca:

"MMMMMM!!!" you grit your teeth against the gag, as you are walking up and down in your cell, trying to get your hands out of the cuffs and the mittens.

You've spent many hours in this fashion, your muscles sore from the constant struggle. But what the fuck exactly are you supposed to do? Smile and moan like Sarah? Or play the prudish one like Mel who literally ordered this to happen? Why? You are about to suck blue alien cocks for the rest of your life. Unless you find a way out of this cell. And that is what you are going to do. After that, you are going to get a gun, or better, a rifle, and you gonna start dropping these fuckers...

Suddenly, you can hear the door opened, urging you to stop. What you see is one of those alien punchbags. He steps close to you, and he grabs the leash dangling in your neck.

In return, you jump up and headbutt him... However his skull proves to be a lot thicker than expected.

"Time for your training session," he says, unaffected, and he proceeds to drag you out of the cell. You being numb, and in a hell of a lot of pain, are inclined to follow. You follow the man for some time. Then you stop as you reach a door, slipping into the frame before you.

"Rebeca Joyce, welcome." You can hear the sentence, and a shiver runs through your spine. What you see is a woman sitting in a chair in the middle of a cabin that much resembles your cell, her body covered with black leather clothes, her yellow eyes piercing to your soul. You also notice that her teeth are carved in the shape of a V. An excellent indication that she is a psycho.

The guard yanks your leash, and you are escorted to a pillow in front of the woman. After a sudden kick, you find yourself on your knees, gritting your teeth on your gag as the woman's leather boot is pressed against your chin so you would lock eyes with her.

"While you were busy exhausting yourself, we towed your vessel in our hangar, and we picked it clean of anything of use," she says, your blood boiling from the words. But then you notice something flung in front of you. As you look down, the boot still pressed to your chin, you realize it is your vibrator.

"MMMMMM!!!" Again, you grit your teeth against the gag, trying to get out from the cuffs and the mittens.

You expect to be kicked in the face as a response, or your neck being grabbed perhaps, but instead, the woman unlocks your ballgag, and she shows a dildo in your mouth. The surprise nullifies you. You didn't just not expect this to happen. But it is also one of those situations you have no planned response for.

What you end up doing is to start sucking on the dildo, making the woman smile vividly. You do not know why you do this. But it calms you down.

"See, Rebeca, this is what the most get wrong in your case. It's not that you detest this life. In fact, based on your holo-footprint, you have the most wicked mind from the three of you. But you are scared. So scared. Everybody is kicking you. Everybody is tossing you around. You are just trying to get some control. Any control. Just a little control. But you see, in your case, surrendering control is what is going to bring you the joy you deserve in this life."

You continue to suck on the dildo, its very presence calming you down. But then the dildo is slipped out of your mouth, held up so you would lock eyes with the woman.

"You might already know this, but in our culture slaves are separated to three casts: painsluts, pleasure sluts and handmaidens. Do you know which role might suit you best?" she asks.

You shake your head, afraid.

"Isn't it obvious?" she frowns. "You are going to be a pleasure slut, Rebeca. The rest of your life being spent with the blissful lack of control, your mind drifting between one tsunami of pleasure after the other."

Hearing the sentence you shudder. Being a pleasure slut might sound relieving at first. You would avoid becoming a painslut, whilst you would also be getting your share of action. But then your mind wonders to the vids that you'd seen of women who are enslaved by the harlan, pleasing crowds of men in stores, pubs, dinner parties, or the confines of a space vessel. And with renewed effort, you start to struggle again.

The woman slips back the dildo in your mouth, and she places a hand on top of your head.

"Calm down, Rebeca," she says. And somehow it works, and you indeed stop to struggle. "Nobody is going to hurt you. In fact, you will be cared for and cherished for the rest of your life. Isn't that something a wounded soul wants above all?"

For the record, it almost comes through in your head. Almost. But the fact that she discovered one weak point doesn't mean that you have to roll over. Telling the lie that you want this just because you are wicked.

"Actually, lets introduce you to your new outfit, shall we?" she asks. Then another thought occurs to you: what if as time passes by you start to tell the lie as comfort?

The guard behind you grabs you, and you are dragged in front of a booth made of metal. You will pay for this you fucking cunt! As the booth's door is opened, you are pushed in, and you can feel some sort of a goo sprayed all over your body. A pair of robotic arms remove your items, grabbing your arms and forcing them behind you. The goo on your skin begins to move, then it becomes still. As you try to move your arms again, you realize that they are trapped in a vertical armbinder.

Scared, you try to get out from the booth, but one by one your legs are grabbed and raised by the arms, the goo taking the form of high stilettos and a pair of cuffs around your ankles with a chain between them.

For a moment there is a pause. Then the dildo is grabbed by the arms too, embedded into a cock gag that is strapped behind the back of your neck.

After this another pause follows. Part of you hopes that this is the end of your torment. But you know from the vids that it is not over yet. And now you shudder, your upper body held in place by the arms, screaming into your gag as another arm hits your skin with a laser. You don't have to see the letters to determine what's being written on your skin. You know enough about harlan slavery. It is your social ranking PLEASURE SLUT, paired with a code that the state could use to identify you.

Technically, if Earth rescues you, you could be free again. But is there a going back after this? After you have been shamed to this extent? The very existence of this question fills your heart with dread.

"Come on, Rebeca," you can hear the woman say, and you recognize that the event the harlan call The Branding is over.

A leash attached to the collar on your neck, you are escorted out of the booth. As you are forced on your knees on the pillow, you recognize that your items are in the color of pink. The color that you hate the most. You also recognize that the woman is without pants, and there is an enormous dildo between her legs.

"We have lots of learning to do," she says as the cock gag is unlocked by the guard behind you.