Rhiana could barely remember how long she had been enslaved now. Somewhere in the back of her mind were some distant memories, long forgotten scenes almost viewed through someone else’s eyes. Images of playing with her sisters on a family vacation aged only six years; classroom lessons at high school; collecting glasses in the Three Brooks, trying to catch the eye of Steele, then feeling herself flush when he finally looked back at her; masturbating in her bed in Bliss’s capital city, Minerva.
Those images replayed themselves from time to time, mostly when she tried to sleep, sometimes as she went about her daily routine of preparing meals for her and Mistress, tidying the apartment, shopping for groceries, all of which seemed to pass in a daze as if she wasn’t really awake.
The only real thing that Rhiana could truly feel any more was the constant burning between her legs, deep inside where she could not scratch, echoed constantly by the itching of her nipples inside their fabric prison. Mistress had enslaved her as a naïve and innocent girl only 18 years old, by taking away her freedom to the one thing that made her truly human, the one escape she had ever had from the pathetic waste of a planet that was Bliss.
Rhiana could not remember at all now the day that Mistress had enslaved her. Somewhere, deep in her subconscious, images still existed of a warm summer’s day when the bailiffs had arrived to repossess her father’s family home and a gunfight had ensued, leaving her parents killed and her, at 17, legally an orphan. And on Bliss, unless one was quick and smart, that meant Illegal Slave.
***
Bliss’s long, scorching summer was coming to a close as Rhiana’s Levnet implants were fitted. This was something Rhiana had usually assumed happened only to wealthy individuals who wanted to interface directly with Levnet – the computer network that spanned all of Colonisatia and beyond, to the Frontier worlds, to the Sparse Regions, even to the distant mining colonies beyond. But when Rhiana awoke in the slave-house’s dorm, her head sore and mind dizzy, she realised how easily the computer uplink to her cerebral cortex could be used in reverse: computer to control brain, instead of brain to control computer.
There were limits to what could be inflicted by the Levnet terminal. It could not, for example, take control of her body physically: she was still free to do as she pleased with her muscles. It could, however, replace the nerve signals from her body with synthetic ones: touch, taste, smell, sight, sound – all could be transmitted directly to her brain as if she was really experiencing them. In return, the terminal could transmit everything that she experienced back to the computer, allowing a slaver to see exactly where she was through her own eyes, experience her senses: touch, taste, smell, sight, sound.
Rhiana did retain some memories of the slave-house. She recalled lying awake early one morning, listening to the soft breathing of the other girls in the dorm. She recalled the almost immediate sexy feeling flowing through her petite body as she turned under the thick blanket, feeling her stiff nipples brush against the duvet and the moisture between her legs. She remembered stroking herself as gently and as quietly as she could, biting down on a mouthful of her wavy red-blonde hair as her fingers spread her moisture over her engorged clit. She could still feel the tears tracing slowly down the side of her face as she fought to hold back her voice over her excitement as her body gave in to the first orgasm she had experienced in the slave-house, almost two months after she had been taken into slavery.
Even in those early days of her enslavement life had been bearable. True, she was worked most of every day, but it was not overly strenuous, she was never beaten or punished as long as she worked, and throughout the day she had access to fresh, clean water and toilet facilities. The food was not great but edible and nutritious, and was served at regular intervals, as was high-class education in a variety of menial tasks such as cookery, cleaning, massage techniques, interior decorating, basic mechanics – in fact just about anything a slave might be expected to do for the average household owner. In the evenings when the doors were locked and the lights were turned out, Rhiana was free to have her own dreams, her own thoughts, her own fantasies; and late at night, when there was only the sound of her roommates gentles snores, she could reward herself for a days work with as many quiet orgasms as she cared to administer before she could no longer keep her eyes open. Often, as she lay drifting off to sleep, she would smile at the sound of one of her roommates sighing quietly, and think with a warm feeling that she was probably not the only slave who played with herself after lights out.
Rhiana had turned 18 shortly after arriving in slavery and was quite soon up for sale on the black market. Several months after her birthday (which she had remembered but not celebrated) Rhiana had been purchased by Mistress, who seemed to take quite a liking to her petite body and her girlish face. Hidden somewhere among the churning nightmare of Rhiana’s mind was a memory of the small white room, the slave-master and junior slaver, and the woman she would come to call Mistress.
Mistress had paced around her several times when she came to inspect her new purchase, taking in her small frame and little face, her dark eyes framed by rosy cheeks and flowing red-blonde curls. Then Mistress had asked that her garments be removed, and the slaver had pulled off her robe leaving Rhiana totally naked as Mistress inspected her small, round breasts and her tight round buttocks that Rhiana herself had loved to stroke and squeeze when she played in the dorm.
Rhiana remembered taking as close a look as she could at Mistress – a woman not much older than herself, she decided, although quite obviously very wealthy. She was taller than Rhiana although not exceptionally so; she looked about average height, maybe two inches or so over Rhiana’s petite size. Her hair was a little over shoulder length, blonde and very straight around her sharp, elegant features. Rhiana saw in her eyes that she was not someone who would take kindly to not getting her own way – perhaps someone who was used to using those sharp eyes to order people around as much as to attract people.
Rhiana did not have an instant dislike of her Mistress; little did Rhiana know the harsh love/hate relationship she would come to have with the woman. But then, Rhiana would have remembered, had her mind not been in constant turmoil, those were the last of the days when she thought things would work out all right. That day marked the start of her slide into somewhere deeper, darker and colder than she had ever been before, both physically and mentally.
In the small white room words were said that were blocked from Rhiana’s ears by the slave-box on her Levnet terminal, folded documents exchanged, and Rhiana was dressed once again in her long white robe. Slowly Mistress extended a hand, which Rhiana nervously took, and was led out of the slave-house and, for the first time since she was enslaved, into the fresh autumn air.
The true horror of Rhiana’s slavery did not become apparent until a few days after she had left the slave-house. Mistress had taken her in a new open-topped sports car to a clean, well-kept apartment in the suburbs and had shown her around. Mistress had only moved in a few days previously and the house was still full of stacked boxes, as yet unpacked. Mistress had been very friendly, even welcoming towards Rhiana as she went through the house, explaining where everything would be stored once it was unpacked.
Rhiana was given a small room with a wardrobe filled with various garments in her size – summer slacks and blouses, warm trouser suits for winter, hard-wearing jeans and plain shirts and several pairs of shoes, each for a different purpose. It seemed strange that there was no underwear at all in her wardrobe, but she decided that a slave should not raise the point.
