Slave to a Sinful Empire

Part III: Bound in Shadows

"That's her," Terren said with a sneer. "The one who killed Master Fyrio. His little slut." Annie glared at the coachman with contempt. She had given him the opportunity to be free, and he had gone running back to the slavemasters. She could imagine nothing lower.

"You like being a slave, bastard?" she cried. "You followed us to the church, didn't you? You led them right to us, fucking traitor!" she screamed at him, struggling in vain against the bonds which held her, naked, to the rough wooden chair. "God won't forgive you for this!" she spat.

"Listen to this little bitch and her superstitious curses!" Terren said to the Zath jailer with a sickening, sycophantic smile. "She heaps more punishment on herself with her Lumenist drivel!"

"That would be difficult to do," the jailer mused, his face still serious. "She can't be in much more trouble than she already is..." he said as he examined Annie with a loathsome, detached gaze. She glared fire at him. After a long moment he returned his attention to Terren. "You may go, now," he said with a dismissive wave.

"But... my reward," Terren muttered with a cur-like mixture of submissiveness and greed.

"Speak to Lansman on the way out," the jailer said in his bored voice, his attention already back on Annie. He stared at her with piercing dark eyes. He was perhaps in his thirties, with dark hair receding from a high forehead, a large aquiline nose, and a small mouth twisted into a bored, cruel frown. Terren hurried out of the room, a guard opening and shutting the iron door with a chilling clang.

The jailer and Annie were left alone in a bare cement chamber, deep in the basements under the police headquarters, illuminated by a bare electric bulb hanging from a wire at the center of the ceiling. Besides the wood chair to which Annie was strapped, the room held an assortment of wood and metal scaffolds and frameworks of strange design, hung with leather straps, chains, or both. A rack of whips and cat-o-nine scourges, some with wicked metal tips, was displayed on one wall, along with truncheons, thin flexible canes, and other such paraphernalia. Set out on a table in the back of the room, out of Annie's vision, a set of polished and sharpened torture tools lay on a metal tray, shining horribly in the harsh light.

After a long silence, the jailer stopped his slow pacing and stood in front of Annie, looking down at her like a stern parent about to deliver a lecture. "Annabelle Archer. A pretty name for a pretty girl..." he mused. "But I fear you won't get to keep your looks much longer. You see... you probably didn't know this when you murdered your lawful master, but there are actually worse things than being a slave. Oh yes," he said, as if she had replied with disbelief. "Much worse things."

"For example, being a rebel," the Zath continued. "A rebel against Zathon, against the Emperor. That is much worse, because when we catch you - and it's not a question of if, but when we catch you - the punishment is so much greater than everything you would endure in a lifetime of the hardest slavery. It must be that way, or else the slaves would rebel. We must set an example which will sicken and shock them to the very core of their beings. An example which will instill a lifelong fear and respect for Zathon in the hearts of every slave! We make no excuses about this. It is the law of our survival, and justifies itself. But we have come up with some very terrible punishments for rebels."

"Which brings me back to my original point," the jailer said. "I'm afraid you will lose your pretty face before you die. One piece at a time. Eyes, ears, nose, lips... those lovely lips. Some officer will have them for a trophy. I had one superior, years back, who collected eyes... floating in alcohol, whole shelves of jars, it made a visit to his office doubly unpleasant... but again I digress. You will go up on your cross, or your spike, already ruined, and maddened by pain and horror. But you can spare yourself that torture. Where is Zellene Jacault?" he asked suddenly.

Annie spat in his face, taking some petty satisfaction as he wiped away the spittle, although he hardly reacted. "Fuck yourself, Zath minion! Go find a cock to suck!" she screamed at him.

A cruel little smirk came to the man's face. "I do so love young girls. So full of spirit, and yet so completely unable to endure any pain. You will break, quickly and completely. You'll tell us where your young blonde friend has gone. But first, we'll have our fun. I'm going to leave, and send in some of our officers now. You have no idea of the office politics, the favors called in, all to decide you gets to fuck you," he said with a dark laugh. "Afterwards will come our torturers, to have their own, more excruciating kind of fun." Annie maintained an angry snarl, but inside she could feel her fear rising. "I will do you one last favor. I will visit you again, before the torturers, and give you one more chance to tell me what you know. Until then, enjoy the sodomy," he sneered, and wheeled around, stalking to the door and out with a clang.

Only a short moment passed before the iron door opened again. Two Zaths in black police uniforms, jackboots, and black leather gloves strode through, hungry smiles on their faces. One was older, with steel gray hair and a hollow, hard face. The other was perhaps in his twenties, with blonde hair slicked back against his head, and angular, hawk-like features.

"Well well!" the younger man said with cruel delight. "Look at her! She's even prettier than they told us! Sexy little redhead..." he muttered as he walked around Annie in circles.

"Rat-faced little shit!" Annie spat at him. "You can't hurt me with your tiny prick!" She was almost surprised in her own ferocity. She had endured over a year with Fyrio without speaking a harsh word, only crying and freezing up in the beginning, for which he had punished her amply. But being given freedom so briefly, and then having it snatched away, made slavery all the more hateful to her, and she burned with a new, furious anger.

"Easy, girlie," the older man said calmly. "We want this to go easy, and so do you, believe me." With that he bent down to one of her legs and undid the strap.

Annie kicked out at him savagely, but he caught the kick, and held her struggling leg easily in his powerful arms. Then standing up, he pushed the leg back, elevating the foot until it was next to Annie's ear. She thrashed against him harder, and the old man sighed in a tired way before stiffening his fingers and jabbing them into her throat.

Instantly Annie stopped fighting and began to wheeze as she struggled to breathe. The pain in her throat was intense, and burned as she gasped for air.

"Now there's going to be no more fighting from you, girl," the old man said sternly. "Better for everyone that way." Then he turned to the younger Zath. "Give me her other leg," he said and the younger officer bent and picked up Annie's leg the same way his partner had. She didn't fight him, only stiffened slightly.

"Let's see how flexible you are," he said with a smirk. The two Zaths raised Annie's legs above her head, then the older one reached to his belt and removed a pair of handcuffs. He locked them over her ankles, painfully tight. "Hold those," he said to the younger one, who reluctantly stood behind Annie, holding her legs up to expose her pussy and ass to the older man.

"Why do you get to go first?" the younger one complained.

"Seniority," the older one said with a humorless grin, as he fished his cock out of his pleated black uniform pants.

Annie watched in horror as the spotted old cock grew in his hand. It was not especially long, but was fat and veined, with a swollen purple head emerging from the wrinkled foreskin. He looked down at Annie's face as he stepped up to her, but she refused to meet his gaze. "Look at me, bitch, unless you want to get hit again," he growled, and Annie met his eyes with a defiant glare. "Better," he said as he began to rub the head of his cock against her lips, which moistened involuntarily. Suddenly he pushed it inside her with a wet pop. Annie gave a little cry of disgust.

"There you go," he muttered as he began to slowly pump her. His hands began to slide lasciviously over her creamy thighs. "Do you like that?" he grunted.

"Fuck you, you old pervert!" Annie shot back, but to her disgust he only smiled wider.

"Call me all the names you want," he muttered in a low voice. "Go ahead. Won't hurt you for names, only if you fight me. Talk all you want... just look at me..."

"Go to hell!" Annie snarled. The old man continued to grin, and began to pump faster. "Eat shit!" she cried, and he chuckled, gently kissed one calf (sending a thrill of disgust up Annie's leg), and pumped yet faster, slapping against her flesh.

Annie realized this horrible old Zath enjoyed being abused. Some of Fyrio's friends had been like that. One (she shuddered with embarrassment to remember) had made her stand over the tub and piss on him. On the one hand, this trait only made the old man more disgusting in her eyes. On the other, she could perhaps use it to get him off faster, and get this whole ordeal over with sooner. Plus, it would feel good to degrade him.

"Filthy old lecher!" she cried, giving him her most withering look of contempt as he smiled down at her. "You like raping young girls? You pig! Disgusting old man, you smell like piss!" He groped at her breasts between her raised thighs, his face a study in ecstasy. "You're as old as my grandfather! I'll bet you can't even cum!" She filled her mouth with spit and launched it at him in a wet spray. He didn't even slow as it hit him in the chest, glistening on the gray hairs. "Fucking cum already, grandpa! Fucking pervert! Rapist piece of shit! I can't even feel your soft old dick!" This was a lie of course, and Annie's breathing was growing heavier as the fat cock thrust in and out. Her head was swimming with unwelcome pleasure and disgust.

"You fucking dirty old pig, your limp dick doesn't deserve..." she began, and suddenly felt him begin to spasm. Quickly, the older man pulled out and shot a thick rope of cum onto Annie's stomach. Aiming upward, he spurted twice more onto her pale, freckled tits. His last, weakest spurt landed below her navel and ran down into her red pubic hair where it glistened obscenely.

"Little whore," he said almost affectionately, then gave her a slap across her cheek. Not hard, not a slap of anger like Fyrio had often given her at the least provocation, but hard enough to let her know he was the master, and didn't mind hurting her. "Your turn," he said to the younger officer, who gave a cold smile.

*****

"First of all," the blonde young Zath said, "I'm sick of hearing her talk." Dropping Annie's legs, he went to the wall and selected a gag. It had a leather-covered metal ring center. Coming up behind her, he looped it over Annie's head and fitted it into her mouth. It forced her teeth apart but left a portal at the center, into her soft wet mouth.

"Mmmfhh," mumbled through the gag. "Muh-urr fuh-urr!" The two Zaths shared a smile at her efforts.

"Pick up her legs," the blonde one said to the gray-haired one, as he himself undid the straps holding Annie's arms. She knew better than to fight, this time. She only hoped this young one would be as quick as the other, though she doubted it.

Together they carried her bodily across the room, to a horizontal bar of rough oak, like a sawhorse. The younger Zath cuffed Annie's hands in front of her, then motioned to the older one to uncuff her legs. Going to the wall, he selected a steel spreader bar, plus a thin wood switch. Meanwhile the older Zath bent Annie over the bar, her head and cuffed hands hanging down, her round but pert white ass lifted and exposed. There was a small iron hook set in the floor, and he looped the chain between her cuffs under it, pinning her in position.

The blonde Zath rubbed gently but threateningly at her inner thighs with the switch. "Spread," he said, and reluctantly Annie shuffled her bare feet apart across the cold cement floor. When they were spread wide, the two Zaths each bent down to an ankle and locked it into a manacle of the bar. With the prisoner secured, the two officers stood back to admire their handiwork.

"What a perfect ass," the blonde one mused, walking up behind Annie. She saw only his legs and jackboots, upside down, from between her own bare legs. He gave her a sharp swat with the cane, striking across both cheeks and leaving a pink stripe across the pale flesh. Annie gave a muffled yelp of pain and surprise. "I'll have to punish you for that ass," the Zath said as he struck her again with a sharp crack.

As he struck her again, and yet again, Annie reflected on how unfair it was that she had been given such a big bottom, only to end up in Zathon. In Alephia she would have used her wide hips to give birth to adorable children for a devoted husband, and perhaps enjoy the knowledge that he (Simon in her imagination) was enjoying her ass. But in Zathon her voluptuous ass only earned her crude remarks, groping, smacking, spanking, and a lot of rough sex from behind. Indeed, like this blonde, most Zaths' reaction to seeing such an ass was to punish it, to rain down blows on the soft expanse of pale, feminine flesh. Fyrio had given her spankings which left her sore for days, and his friends had abused her ass every time they came over.

Her cruel captor interrupted her thoughts by striking her harder and harder, faster and faster, with the wicked little switch. Soon the entirety of both round cheeks, plus the backs of both thighs, were crisscrossed with red and pink welts and a few purpling bruises. Only when she had been tenderized like meat, and her ass was singing with pain, did the blonde Zath step up behind her, take her roughly by the hips, and thrust into her.

Annie couldn't hold back a cry of pain, muffled somewhat by her gag, as the Zath savagely thrust his hips against her sore and sensitive ass. He dug his hands into the soft flesh at her hips as he slapped against her again and again, as if causing her pain was just as important as giving himself pleasure. For many Zaths, Annie knew, the two were closely intertwined.

Annie gave a low moan as her captor thrust against her, a string of drool escaping around the edge of her gag to hang pendulously below her head. She was going numb below the waist from the pain and the intense sensation, not pleasure but something equally powerful, from the cock filling her again and again with each thrust. Moreover, the blood was rushing to her head as her upper body hung upside-down, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Her head was swimming from the whole ordeal, and it was a great temptation to simply pass out.

Before she could will herself into the soft blackness, however, she felt strong hands grab roughly on her braids and yank her head up, as far as it would go with her hands still shackled to the floor. She found her face just barely above horizontal, with a stiff cock bobbing in her face, so close the tip was out of focus, with a thatch of gray pubic hair behind it.

Pulling her braids forward, the older Zath now thrust his cock through the opening in Annie's gag and into her mouth. His flesh invaded her throat, making her choke instinctively. Thick drool welled up, bubbling around the cock and the gag to drip out onto the floor.

Annie tried to relax her throat, suppress her gag reflex, but it was difficult with the younger Zath still pounding away at her tender ass, slapping at it with his hands and digging his fingers into her flesh cruelly. Her wet choking sounds became somewhat softer and less strangled as she forced herself to accept the disgusting old lecher's cock. She even rolled her soulful green eyes up to look at him, knowing that often made Fyrio cum faster.

Suddenly she felt something penetrate her puckered little asshole. She realized it was the blonde one's gloved finger. She could hardly feel it through the haze of pain. Then another joined it, and she felt an unpleasant stretching sensation as he forced her tiny hole wider. Annie thought once again that this fixation with the asshole was one of the more disgusting things about the supremely disgusting Zaths.

Then a much bigger and harder object penetrated her ass, forcing it painfully wide before it finally swallowed whatever he had put in there. Annie thought for a brief moment that it was the younger Zath's cock, before he started pumping her pussy with that once more.

Suddenly her mouth was full of warm, slightly salty, man-tasting jelly, as the old Zath shot his first load onto her helpless tongue. Again he quickly pulled out, letting the first blob of cum drip out of her mouth, over her full lips, and onto the floor. Then the second load came spurting out, and Annie had to close one eye as a thick rope draped her face from eyebrow to chin. The third spurt covered the bridge of her nose and ran down one side of her nose and across her cheek. The final, weakest load he smeared across her forehead.

Still holding her braids, the older Zath batted her face with his softening cock a few times, before letting her head drop. Slowly the cum began to slide from her inverted face toward the floor.

Meanwhile the younger captor was fucking her ass roughly with the hard toy, even as he continued to furiously pump his hips against her sore cheeks as he thrust into her. "Take it you little bitch," he said through his teeth, then suddenly pulled out of her aching pussy. As if to compensate, he redoubled his efforts with the toy.

Frantically frigging himself with his hand, the young Zath suddenly shoved the toy as far as he could up Annie's stretched hole, sending a stabbing pain through her guts. At that moment the young man climaxed, spraying her ass and thighs with loads of warm jism. Then slowly he slid the toy out, until it popped out into the air, and Annie's gaping asshole slowly and mercifully began to close. She felt a wave of relief, through the haze of pain and shame.

The Zath held the toy between her legs, letting her see it for the first time: a fat black rubber cone of a butt-plug, hanging upside-down in her inverted vision. He waved it under (or rather above) her cute freckled nose for an odious moment, then tossed it aside.

"Who's going to clean this slut up?" the older Zath asked casually, as he looked down at the slave's cum-smeared face and ass.

"Let's bring the other bitch in here," the blonde one suggested. The older one must have nodded, though Annie saw nothing but their upside-down legs. She was dizzy from relief and the blood pounding in her head, but for a moment cold terror gripped her, as she imagined they were talking about Zelle. Then she remembered the interrogator asking about the younger girl, and relaxed. Zelle was still free. This was some other unfortunate girl, a prisoner of the Empire.

Annie nearly passed out in relief when her captors unhooked her cuffed hands from the floor, and undid the restraints of the spreader bar. In a daze she let them pick her up and lead her over to a wood post set in the floor. The older one fetched ropes while the younger made her stand between the post and the wall, both of which had iron rings set into them. With the switch he coaxed her to spread her legs and raise her cuffed hands straight up in the air. Then the older man tied her legs to the post and wall, while the younger tied her hands to a ring set in the ceiling.

"Go get the other one," the older Zath told the younger, who reluctantly turned and left through the iron door. The older one smiled cruelly as he looked at the cold cum on Annie's pretty face, and used one finger to wipe away the strand holding her eye half-closed. Then he turned his attention to her chest, exposed by her raised arms.