Offshore

This is an erotic story that depicts sex between women. If this is not something you are comfortable reading, don't go any further.

Offshore: A story in 3 parts.

Chapter One:

A Terra–fied planet

In the very distant past, when the people of Earth realized that their sun would be coming to the end of its life within finite millennia, they began combing the solar systems of the Milky Way galaxy to find a substitute planet on which to colonize in order to keep humankind from becoming extinct.

Having huge space-traveling ships able to travel at warp speed, many times the speed of light, it took only a little over 23,700 years to find a planetary system that would support mankind. They called the system Hope; the sun Sol; the main planet Terra; and a smaller planet, only a few thousand miles short of the distance from Terra, to where Mars would be in the old home system, they named Offshore.

Terra had the iron core necessary for a magnetic field to maintain an atmosphere; Terra was a Goldilocks planet – just the right size and the right distance from Sol and just the right temperature to sustain flora and fauna; a moon, called Luna, at the right distance to ensure seasons for growing crops; half a planet of ocean for water; and outer planets that swept up comets, asteroids, and space debris that ensured that Terra wouldn't be bombarded causing periodic extinctions. Terra-forming this planet took a little over 400 years, but when it was complete, Terra was almost the equivalent of Earth. The one thing missing was Earth's rare mineral wealth; however, Offshore had those elements in abundance.

Unfortunately, the haves and have-nots from the old plant Earth were in a constant state of turmoil, when not at downright war.

In an attempt to colonize Offshore for purposes of mining the mineral riches, the Terran government had offered land grants and subsidies to those willing to live and work on that planet. As often happens when great wealth and greed are involved, Terra reneged on promises made to the new inhabitants of Offshore. This lack of faith created more than just hard feelings. Eventually, it led to all out war that lasted over two centuries.

With the realization that eventually it would be necessary for the two planets to bury the hatchet in order for either to survive, an uneasy truce was established; embassies, consulates and trade missions were set up and the situation was semi-stabilized, but the inhabitants of the two planets never learned to trust one another. Their ways of life and cultures were too dissimilar.

The people of Terra were mainly Occidental, while those on Offshore were preponderantly Oriental. The antipathies had nothing to do with race, skin color, or national origin. That had been weeded out long before they had left the home planet, Earth. The difference had everything to do with how hardships had forged those on Offshore as opposed to the easy life on Terra. Terrans were soft while those on Offshore were as hard and unyielding as metal-glass. Another difference had to do with gender; the long wars had more than decimated the males of Offshore; nearly ninety per cent of males had been killed in the wars with Terra. The remaining women were embittered; fortunately, they had learned to be self-sufficient and self-reliant.

Offshore became a completely matriarchal society. The Shoredwellers, as they referred to themselves, eventually came to think of men as a necessary evil. Men no longer lived among the women in the villes, as the large, circular, bubble towns were known. The remaining men lived in the mining camps, where they kept the machinery running and the mining robots in repair; in the spaceports, where they maintained space yachts; Offshore service craft, and automatic inter-planet cargo ships; and in the industrial areas, where they tended to the nuclear, electrical, and hydraulic utilities that kept Offshore viable.

Men and women no longer had ongoing liaisons, but on their bi-weekly shore – or rather, Offshore – leave, men came into the villes to link with those women who were designated breeders, or who just wanted a diversion from a steady diet of female on female sex. Then too, there were many linkages by a mated pair of women with a man on leave. These arrangements seemed to suit both genders, and there were no disharmonious 'wars of the sexes' on Offshore, as there continued to be on Terra.

__________

It was nearly 11:15 p.m., and Zhanet had just come from a meeting of the Bi-Planet Legal Conference on Terra where she had been the temporary Attorney-Major of Terra since her predecessor had taken ill three weeks before. Her position was only nominal as her duties were limited to describing legal aspects pertaining to Terra's relationship to the outer planet, Offshore, and she had no actual say so in the proceedings. She was no more than a repository of legal information; however, the continuous barrage of questions by the staff members had exhausted her.

Zhanet was looking forward to a hot shower, a cup of thick hot chocolate, and a good night's sleep. As she entered the darkened hallway leading to her living unit, she felt a sharp sting at the back of her neck.

She recalled nothing more until she awoke to find herself in an unlit cell-like room. She was lying on a thin mat on the floor, and she was completely nude. She had no idea of where she was or how long she'd been unconscious.

When she tried to rise, Zhanet found she was stiff, sore, thirsty, and ravenously hungry; she also had an ache deep within her abdomen.

She was startled by a moan from behind her. Turning, she saw that she was not alone; there was a nude woman lying on a mat next to the wall. Zhanet rushed to the woman's side and asked how she could help. It was then that she realized the woman was Paula, another attorney whom she worked with at the Bi-Planet Legal Conference office in New Amsterdam, Western Division, Terra.

"Paula, are you all right? Is there something I can do for you?" Zhanet asked in a strained voice.

"I don't know," the woman answered. "My abdomen hurts like hell. Where am I? What is this place? How did I get here?" she sputtered. "Oh, Zhanet, I didn't recognize you at first. When did you cut your hair? Where are we? Are our clothes here somewhere?"

"I don't know where we are and, no, our clothes are not in here, Paula. I just woke up a few minutes ago, myself," Zhanet said. "There are no windows and this lighting is so dim, I can't tell anything about this place. There's a door over there; we can try it as soon as you feel you can get up. I haven't had my hair cut; what do you mean? Oh, yours is very short; it's a cap of curls. Someone must have cut our hair while we were unconscious." Zhanet ran her hands through hair and sighed. It had never been that short since she was a small child.

Zhanet helped Paula to her feet and, together, they went to the door. There was no handle or Identi-Plate and the two women were at a loss as how to open it. When Paula pushed the door, it lit up and swung open. "It must be made of metal-glass," Zhanet conjectured as she stepped into the corridor outside the door.

Before she could take another step, two women came running around a corner toward them. "Stop!" One of the women yelled. "Stay right where you are." The women appeared to be armed with very thin, bright red rods about two feet in length. "You were not to leave your room until told to do so," one of them said, brandishing the red rod like a sword. "However, we were coming to get you anyway, so follow us."

Zhanet and Paula began bombarding the women with questions. "Be quiet," one said. "You are not to speak unless spoken to." She punctuated her warning by jabbing the rod at Paula's midriff. When the rod touched her, there was a crackling sound and Paula was thrown against the corridor wall. The shock took her breath away. When Zhanet moved to help Paula, a guard touched her hip with a rod, and she too was stunned. "Be quiet, do as you're told, and you won't be shocked. What you've experienced is mild compared to what these prods can do," the attending guard growled. "Now follow us." Zhanet wanted to ask about her clothes but was afraid to speak. She and Paula followed the two women who were dressed in pale red, mid-thigh smocks and sandals.

They were led to a large room in which were a dozen other naked women and twice that number of female guard-attendants. A large desk took up a lot of the space in the room. After a few minutes, a tall, well-built woman strode in and stood in front of the desk; she stared around the room at each of the women until she focused on Zhanet. She nodded as if to say to herself, "This is the one."

"I am Ceil, consort to the Matriarch. When I speak to you, you will address me as My Lady; acknowledge me by looking at me once, nod, and then look down at the floor in front of you. Do not speak unless I ask you a question. Any departure from this will be dealt with by severe punishment. You are on Offshore and have been taken for dual purposes. The first is to serve in your professional capacities and the second is to serve the women of Offshore sexually. Forget who you were on Terra. That part of your life is over. You are here permanently. There are fourteen of you this time; three are doctors; two are attorneys; and the rest are engineers or scientists. No matter what your rank was on Terra, you are now of our lowest caste. You are on the same level as animals in the eyes of our people. Don't forget that status or be prepared for much pain.

"You are asking yourselves why you were taken. Terra allows only five percent of Offshore's population to be educated in its universities, while education is afforded to any Terran who requests it. We have to make up for our lack of professionals by taking some of the best of Terra. You have been moved through our embassies and consulates where Terrans are forbidden by treaty and then brought here in space yachts that are inviolate as embassy vehicles. No one will look for you because no one knows you're on Offshore.

"In the next few days, you will be assigned to duties where you will be expected to work for this world. Again, any deviance from what we expect of you will be met with severe punishment. We will not pamper you just because you are women. If it is necessary to put you to death, we can replace you from the vast Terran female population, so you may well believe that we have no compunction about ending your lives.

"Do your jobs well; service us well sexually; and you may survive for many years. As Terrans, you may not wear clothing or have any personal possessions – not even a toothbrush, not even your Terran names. Your hair will be kept short, so combs are not needed. Terra has allowed us extremely few amenities and they are for the use of our native population. You have had possessions in your prior life; now it is our turn to have the pitiful little we can attain. We need the mineral credits from Terra for the basic things of life here.

"One of the things you used on Terra was a tampon. Shoredwellers can't afford such luxuries; therefore, we use a small plastine cap that fits over the cervix. Since you are not permitted to have even that possession, a prod was introduced into your womb and an electric charge eliminated your need to menstruate. We don't need to have you dripping blood on our floors."

One of the naked women began to scream at Ceil, "How dare you mutilate us like that. Who the hell do you think you are? I want to speak to someone at the Terran consulate, now!"

She continued ranting at Ceil until that woman turned to a guard and said in a low, throaty growl, "Silence her."

The guard immediately stunned the woman with a prod, and she fell to the floor. The guard pulled the woman's hands behind her back and fastened her wrists together. She pulled the woman's tongue free of her mouth and inserted a four-inch plastine pin, about a quarter of an inch wide, through that appendage. Then she pulled the moaning woman to her feet and held her until she could stand by herself.

Ceil addressed the woman, "Since you were unable to control your tongue emotionally, I have seen to it that you won't be able to control it physically. After a day or so of not being able to pull your tongue back into your mouth, you may think twice about speaking before you are spoken to. Tomorrow or the next day, the long pin will be removed, and a shorter pin and a small ball will be substituted. You will not be able to remove the ball from your mouth - as a constant reminder that you spoke out of turn. Do you understand?" The woman nodded and grunted, evidently in shock and in a good deal of pain.

"Does anyone else have a grievance she'd like to air?" Ceil asked. Silence. "Well, in that case, you may return to your rooms. This woman's roommate will see to it that the pin is not removed until someone comes and treats the wound. Do not undo her wrists or remove the pin, or you will take her place.

"One more thing; we won't use prods, chains or manacles to keep you in line from now on. If you refuse any command or disobey in the slightest, even once, you will be subjected to another type of control." Ceil took a packet from the desk, opened it, and showed the group of women a thick needle, an inch and a half long. She turned the small loop on the end and several thin, quarter inch needles sprang slightly open forming barbs. "This will be inserted through your nipples into your breasts and the barbs opened. The slightest tug on the shaft will cause excruciating pain. In the event you need to be restrained, a monofilament line will be attached to the needle eye and the other end to whatever is available.

The horror – and terror – of what had just occurred and what they had learned was not lost on the rest of the women as they were led out of the audience room. They were very quiet.

Ceil pointed to Zhanet and said, "You and your mate will stay here." Zhanet began to tremble with fear. All of the guards left the room, but Zhanet could see two of them through the metal-glass door.

"You two will be members of my seraglio, my harem; as my concubines, you will have certain privileges; you will have better food than your fellow Terrans, and I may allow you to wear a skirt and sandals from time to time, depending on where I take you. I am not asking you if you want to belong to me; I'm telling you that you no longer have a right to your own bodies; however, if you feel you must demur from sexually satisfying me because you are heterosexual, I will listen. Then you will be severely beaten to show you have no choice, and your consciences will be clear; that will not change what you are expected to perform. Is that understood?" The two women were too frightened to decline. "Good," stated Ceil.

"You with the auburn hair, whatever your name was, you are now TT, and blondie, you are now CC. It is not necessary for you to know what those letters stand for. Forget you ever had other names. I don't wish to know them. If I hear of your using your former names, you will wish you had forgotten them. I will no longer ask you if you understand something I say to you. It is up to you to listen very carefully to what I say and comply immediately. I will not brook hesitation," Ceil snarled.

"Now you must wear my colors, so that everyone will know you are my property. Then no one else will attempt to use you." Ceil walked around behind the desk and took four small packets from a drawer. She handed two each to Zhanet and Paula. "Open them." The women opened the packets and found small, lavender, plastine rings in each of them. The rings were open at one point; along the inside rim were very small, sharp teeth. Although Zhanet didn't know the purpose of the rings, they filled her with dread.

"TT, face CC and clasp your hands behind your head. CC, take one of the rings and spread it open. Yes, like that. Be careful; there are little teeth along the inside rim, and they are very sharp. Wait. Give the rings to TT. Now, pull hard on one of TT's nipples and when it is fully erect and extended as far as possible, put the ring around the nipple close to the aureole. Then snap it closed. Do it right the first time, as it can't be opened again. It will be permanent. What are you waiting for? Do it. Stop that crying; now! You are trying my patience. I warned you that I would not countenance hesitation. Believe me, if I have to do it, I will not be gentle. Move aside, CC. Hold very still, TT."

She grabbed Zhanet's right breast in one hand and pulled the nipple with her other hand. It was so painful that it felt to Zhanet as though Ceil would pull her nipple off. Her eyes teared up, but she didn't budge. "CC, snap that ring on her nipple up against her aureole," commanded Ceil.

"But it will hurt her," opined Paula. "I don't want to hurt her."

"Of course it will hurt, but you had better put it on her, or I'll have your tits needled and barbed," Ceil snarled in exasperation.

"Do it, Paula, uh, CC. Put it on me," insisted Zhanet. "Don't make matters worse." When the ring snapped shut, the teeth bit into her flesh, and Zhanet yelped in pain. She gritted her teeth when the second ring was placed, but made no sound.

Paula's knees buckled when she felt the bite of the first ring, but was able to suffer the second one with just a grimace.

"Beautiful; just beautiful." Ceil said, as she admired her handiwork. "You needn't be concerned about infection; the rings and teeth are sterile," Ceil assured them.

"You two are now my property. If anyone attempts to use you, just point out my colors. You will be left alone. You are privileged, but don't think to take advantage of that status in any other way," Ceil warned. "In a moment, I will call my secretary who will witness your submission to me; you will then kneel before me, swear obeisance, and kiss my genitals - passionately. I will accept your fealty, and then my ownership of you will be official. Should you demur in word or attitude, you will be put to death painfully for insulting me. For now, go to the corner and sit on the floor. Think of how you will tell me of your submission. I'll call you when my secretary returns," instructed Ceil.

"There's no way I'm going down on that bitch, Zhanet. She can go to hell if she thinks I will," spat Paula.

"You have to be pragmatic, Paula. Think with your head, not with your emotions. Feeling like an outraged Terran citizen will get you killed – as Ceil said – painfully. Listen, we are immensely fortunate that we are in our present situation," whispered Zhanet.

"Fortunate? Are you out of your mind? We've been kidnapped and forced to kowtow to a nasty woman. I'm cold, hungry, and thirsty. My nipples are on fire from these damned spiked rings. I'm naked; I'm scared; I feel like I'm on a foreign planet – I AM on a foreign planet. We may never see Terra again. How the hell can you say we're fortunate?" queried Paula.

"Sshhh! Don't raise your voice. Talk softly. We've not been kidnapped, Paula. We've been taken. There won't be a demand for ransom or for any other good and valuable consideration. And, yes, our chances of getting back to our old lives are extremely slim if not non-existent." Zhanet continued whispering, "I meant we're fortunate that Ceil is interested in us; that she wants us in her harem. Remember what she said about being the Matriarch's consort. I'm not sure what that means, but Ceil is either second in command or she's the Matriarch's pet. In any case, she evidently has clout. Belonging to her is an advantage for us.

"Can you imagine the situation the other Terran women are in? According to what Ceil said or didn't say, they can be used – or even abused – by any Shoredweller who takes a notion to use them. We are fortunate that we have Ceil's protection. Remember that Shoredwellers hate Terrans. Working for the Bi-Planet Legal Conference must have given you some insight as to how these people on Offshore have been treated ever since minerals were discovered here.