Slave Leia

I'm a geek-girl and proud of it. They're trying to push me into upper management but I love coding and the power coding gives me. I code mostly in C# and Python these days and although some of the guys in my company aren't comfortable taking orders from a girl when the server crashes or the client can't wait any longer I'm the one they turn to, managers included.

I enjoyed breaking the guys on my team in. At first they were all wolf whistles and snide remarks about my butt and legs, at least until I started coding circles around them. Then it was, "Uh...Tracy, do you have any idea where this memory leak is coming from?" or "Uh, Tracy, my routine is randomly crashing and I can't figure out why? Do you have any ideas?"

I'd smile and help them, after sending them out to fetch me a latte. Now I'm team lead and it's my turn to slap THEM on the butt when I send the out to run personal errands. Score!

While I'm a geek, I'm also a girl. I'm very much in charge of at work but there's a very different side of me that I don't advertise. What my brother coders don't know is that while I'm supposedly visiting an imaginary sister in San Diego I'm actually rocking my Princess Leia slave girl bikini at one of the big nerd conventions.

I'm not girly-girl enough to sew, but I make a very nice living, thank you, and was thus able to buy a professional costume that rocks from my gold earrings right down to my furry boots. I'm not huge on top, and I'm so nearsighted that my glasses are an absolute must, but I cross-train and have a flat tummy and a bod that causes really causes geek boy heads to turn heads when I strut down the aisle. Well let them run to the bathroom and stroke off, because they not getting anything from THIS Slave Leia.

While I can't speak for all my Slave Leia sisters, for me it isn't about female empowerment, or Star Wars, or winning some lame costume contest. I never charge to pose for pictures, although there's always some horny guy who's trying to sneak one in with his smartphone.

For me it's not about power, although I can feel the power surge through me as I strut down the aisle. For me it's about submission. I love reading the Slave Leia fan fiction, and the Handcuff Girl stories, and the Gor novels. At work I'm in charge and in control. When I'm Slave Leia, I'm helpless, a sex object to be desired, used, purchased, or sold. I love the feel of countless eyes roaming up and down my body as they evaluate me, desire me, want me. I know they are imagining me as their pleasure slave, theirs to command, mine to obey. I always go commando under my Slave Leia costume, and after 10 minutes of THE MALE GAZE my juices are literally dribbling down my bare thighs.

I was on the elevator going back to my room when he stepped on. He was tall, handsome, well built, and bald. When the doors opened he was staring right at me, as if he knew I was going to be there. He stepped on the elevator and pressed the button for the Penthouse.

"Your costume is perfect, Leia" he said simply, a slight smirk on his lips. His accent was odd: not Russian, but sort of Slavic, or maybe African or Asian, only not. You get all sorts at these conventions.

"Thank you, but my name is Tracy." I said, feeling a bit embarrassed even as I relished the sensation of his eyes roaming up-and-down my body. "I go for authenticity."

"Yes, it's quite authentic, particularly on you. It's precisely what you should be wearing. And your name is now Slave Leia, not Tracy. Pleasure sluts are named by their masters, like any other pet. "

It was an odd, creepy comment, and I turned to him and gave him my best "WHATEVER!" look. He smiled and pointed a remote on his keychain at me.

Then the room dissolved around me...

When I woke up I was in a dark room. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but I quickly saw that I was in a room with about twenty other girls dressed as Slave Leia, a few of whom I recognized from the convention? Where was I?

I tried to talk to the one of the other girls but I found out that for some reason I could not speak. It was then that I noticed that the other Lea's where not wearing the gold collars but stainless steel collars with a device on the side. I touched my own collar and found the same metal box, only the stainless steel didn't feel like metal, but rather like a cloth that wouldn't tear.

None of this made any sense. Was I still at Comic Con? What was the collar made of? Was it preventing me from speaking? How?

The door opened and the girls scattered. Two men grabbed one of the girls and dragged her out, closing the door behind her.

I tried to get my collar off but that was an exercise in futility. I slammed myself against the cell door, which did not budge. I looked for a vent, and found one, about 30 feet above. I pointed at it and tried to get the girls to form a human pyramid. They just stared at me like stupid, stunned sheep.

When the door opened again and the other girls scattered I stood my ground. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen, and I wasn't going to run. This girl does not run.

I was surprised to see that one of the goons was the bald man from the elevator. The first goon grabbed my arm, but the bald man stopped him, using a language I did not understand. Instead, the bald man smiled suavely, and pointed toward the door. Unmolested, I walked into the hallway and permitted them to escort me up the stairs.

The sunlight was brilliant and I squinted as I struggled to see. We were in a circular arena that looked liked it was the sort that might be used for a rodeo, only much smaller. I looked down to cover my eyes, and the bald man took away my glasses, further reducing my surroundings to a bright blur.

I struggled to focus but because of the brightness I mainly looked at my furry Slave Leia boots. I was standing on sand in some sort of arena. Around me were bleachers, with people watching.

A man grabbed me and pulled me into the center of the arena. From the side of the arena, the bald man gave the order.

"Take off your top," the bald man said calmly.

I stared at him. I jumped as the man holding my arm cracked his whip in the air just next to my ear!

"Take off your top, or you will be whipped, and he will take it from you."

The bald man's voice was not mean, or harsh, but the man holding the whip did not look happy. I quickly unbuttoned my bikini bra and shrugged it off my shoulders.

The man with the whip grabbed my neck from behind and thrust me toward the crowd, caressing one of my naked breasts and speaking to the crowd in a foreign language I did not understand. As my eyes began to focus in the bright light I was able to see some blurry faces, including some people in science fiction costumes with bizarre masks.

"I'm still at the convention," I thought. I felt a strange sense of relief, knowing I was still at the Convention Center, surrounded by my fellow geeks. I also felt a sudden surge of excitement as I saw the blurry figures pointing at and admiring my breasts. I felt desired and wanted, and a familiar and delightful tingle between my legs...

I knew WHERE I was, but I still did not know what was happening. The next command answered the question for me.

"Take off your pants," the bald man called to me. Then buyers need to see that sweet pussy of yours."

This was easy enough to do, as unlike most gamers I do not wear panties with my slave girl outfit, preferring the feel of the air against my wet pussy as I strut down through the convention, juicing myself as I make the fanboys hard. But the word "buyers" was not lost on me, and I suddenly realized the man with the whip was my auctioneer, and I was being "sold" to the crowd as a part of some elaborate roleplaying event.

There was a murmur of approval as I unlatched my metal bikini and dropped my slave bottom, revealing my pussy to the people in front of the arena and my naked bottom to the people in the bleachers behind me. The crowd murmured their approval. The auctioneer cupped my bottom cheek in his hand and then slid his fingers between my legs, bring his fingers up to show my wetness to the crowd. The buyers laughed and cheered.

I blushed at their amusement and pleasure in my wetness. Then the auctioneer moved his finger in a circle and I did several slow twirls.

"Bend over, and spread your legs," the bald man called to me. "Put your palms flat on the sand, for their viewing pleasure."

I hesitated for a moment. The arena we were in was not huge, but the bleachers were three rows high, and they were filled with hundreds of people. I have an exhibitionist streak, but it has limits!

The auctioneer cracked his whip and put his hand on the back of my throat, forcing my head down. I bend and spread, digging my fingers into the sun-hot sand. Why was the sand so hot? The crowd cheered as my wet pussy came into view. The auctioneer used his whip to rub my pussy and hold the glistening handle up to the laughing, jeering crowd. I couldn't understand the words, but it was cleared they were amused, and pleased.

"Turn," the bald man said.

It was no easy feet, turning while bent over. But using my palms as my balancing point I turned, showing everyone in the circular arena my widely splayed pussy.

"Reach back, and spread your butt cheeks, Slave Leia," the bald man ordered.

I felt my blush deepen, but conscious of the man with the whip I took my fingers out of the hot sand and reached back to pull my bottom cheeks wide apart for the crowd.

"No, don't stop turning."

Awkward as it was, I complied. With my hands behind me I was bent into more of an "L" which made it easier to see the people on the bleachers. Most were paying close attention, but I became annoyed when I noticed one man with a sort of fish head was looking at some of tablet, while another young couple were chatting, like it was date night and they were just looking for somewhere to sit down.

"Now trot!" the bald man ordered. Hands on your head, knees up, with your bottom and titties bouncing. Run close to the edge so the buyers can get a proper look at the goods."

The reference to "trotting" and "the goods" made me feel like an animal on parade, and as I began my circle I was reminded of a cattle auction I had seen where they had run the cows around a circular pen nearly identical to the one that I was trotting through now. As I ran my eyes finally began to adjust to the incredibly bright light and for the first time I was close enough to see the costumes of the other cosplayers in the audience. Without my glasses it was difficult to focus on them, and I could only see a few of them in the front row, but what I saw was unbelievable! One looked like an Octopus, and I was quite sure it was a puppet, for there was no way a man could fit inside such a suit. Another was a mere optical effect: a sort of red and blue plasma that floated in midair.

I actually felt the fire explode across my bottom cheeks before I heard the crack of the whip. "Knees up!" the bald man shouted. "Make those titties bounce!"

The tears from the fire in my bottom blurred the vision of the people laughing at me as I jerked my knees as high as I could as I bounced around the arena, flaunting myself as the bids poured in.

"PRODEN!" the man with the whip shouted out. There was light applause, and suddenly the bald man was behind me, escorting me out of the arena.

Apparently my "sale" was over and we were going back to the Convention Center. "What panel is this?" I asked him.

He smiled and pointed at the sky. I suddenly realized why it was so bright. There were two suns.

When we were in the darkness of the tunnel he explained. "You are in the Kepler system, and you have been sold to a brothel here. I selected you because I am half human, and half Nasarian, and I could smell your sweet slave juices and read the submissive fantasies in your mind as you paraded yourself through the halls, like the pleasure slut that you are. You enjoy the Handcuff Girl stories on Literotica, do you not? Now you will live them for real."

I looked down at my brown leather boots. It was impossible to describe my feelings. I was terrified, astonished, but I had never been more aroused in my life. The bald man used his hands to push me to my knees. "You will work in the brothels for one year. I will visit you from time-to-time, and after a year I will ask if you wish to return to earth, or continue your new life as a hot, juicy pleasure slut."

He smiled down at me as he unzipped his pants.

"You have been given a wonderful opportunity, Slave Leia. Now you will thank me for making your dreams come true."

Although I thought I was past the point of shock my jaw dropped open when I saw that my captor had two penises and they were covered in fur. He immediately moved his furry members into my mouth.

"As I said, I am only half human. My father was Nasarian. My mother was a brothel pleasure slut like you. You may suck them both."

Taking both of them in my mouth at once was quite a stretch width wise, and deep throating was not an option. I quickly discovered I got the best results by treating it like one big wide penis, and giving both shafts equal attention. If my tongue flagged in its duties one shaft would become flaccid and difficult to keep in my mouth.

"You can use your free hand to rub that hot slave pussy of yours, slut," my master said. "That's right...that's a good little slave girl. Suck the tool of the alien that enslaved you. With two suns the days are long on the Kepler system, and they will work you hard. You will pleasure any creature who cares to fuck you, and you will learn to give exquisite pleasure to all. There will be no more computers for you, my little Leia. You will dance in your slave girl outfit, and flaunt your body to attract customers. Your pussy will be constantly wet and you will pleasure them all."

As he talked I could feel both his shafts hardening in my mouth. I knew he was close. My finger flicked my little bud faster.

"I will earn a commission on you every time you open your mouth or wrap your legs around a customer. Your pussy will be my parking meter, and every time someone comes in you another coin will drop into my purse. Does that excite you?"

It thrilled me, I'm ashamed to say, and I began to quake as I rocked through my first orgasm. My head was spinning as his ejaculation began, first the right shaft, then the left. His seed was sweet, like honey, but the consistency was more like water. My main problem was the volume and force. His spunk filled my mouth, covering every surface, and even as I swallowed as fast as I could the green goo dribbled began to overflow onto my chin.

He pulled out, splattering my face and hair. It tasted like honey, and stuck to me like honey as well, and I found myself licking my lips to get more. He laughed at me, and tossed me my slave girl costume. "Get dressed, but do not touch your face. You will go to the brothel as you are, covered in your master's seed."

"My glasses?" I said. He took them out of his pocket. "You will not need these. Where you are going you will not be programming or giving orders. You are no longer Tracy and you will no longer be giving men orders. You are Slave Leia, a stupid and illiterate pleasure slut, and the only thing you need to see are the penises you will serve."

And so with my hands cuffed behind my back, my face covered in green spunk, and with no chance of escape, I began my career as a galactic pleasure whore. I enjoyed the looks of the creatures - humanoid and not - that watched me as I was marched through the streets tethered by my throat chain to the other Slave Leias that had been bought that day and were now in my slave coffle. I hoped I would be pleasing and I would earn my master many coins.

I wondered when my master would come back for me, and how long a year was on the Kepler system.