Apocalypse Slaves

Erin and Melanie

*

Author's Notes: I apologize for the massive delay since part 13 of this series. As I mentioned before, real life has been hitting me hard all year and so I've been focusing only on those stories that I can publish professionally when I had time to write. When I came back to my Literotica exclusive stories, I found the original concept that I had for AS14, well, sucked. I'd intended focusing on the Colorado Coalition-Montana Militiamen conflict, but it stalled out so hard that it made a Ford lemon look like a marvel of engineering. So, I totally scrapped it and rewrote this completely from scratch, now focusing on two women that, to date, have only been mentioned in passing.

Since it's been requested that past characters be reintroduced, here's a quick rundown of today's guests: Erin and Melanie, daughter and wife respectively, who were pre-Flare survivors and preppers that were mentioned waaaay back in AS06 when Caine was training Faye.

Model Inspirations:

Erin: Erin Avery (Brunette, Slim. 34C-24-36. 5'6")

Melanie: Jayden Cole (Auburn hair, MILF, Curvy. 36C-23-33. 5'10")

Ana: QQueen Cosplay (Adult Cosplayer and Nude Model)

Karina: Karina Hart (Adult Model, Chubby, 42H-30-40, 5'5")

Chapter numbering continues from Part 13 for continuity purposes only. Our story today starts about a year after the Lincoln Cryo vault opened in AS05.

***

CHAPTER 131: Melanie

At the age of 45, this was not how Melanie Lawry envisioned how her middle age would be going. Even as she was led away naked and in chains from where the Montana Militiamen were teasing and tormenting her husband in the dusty streets of Billings, she'd envisioned quite a different outcome in surviving the apocalypse. "Come on, bitch!" her captor, a young gunfighter easily half her age, growled as he pulled on the chain that currently held her wrists bound together before her. Despite nearly being pulled to the point of almost tripping, with the hot asphalt and dirt covered street hurting the soles of her bare feet, Melanie looked back over her shoulder in time to see a Militiaman pull a pistol and shoot her husband in the chest. There was a wail of anguish and she realized after a moment that it was hers. Her captors just shot her husband cold blooded in the streets and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I said, come on!" the gunfighter now yelled at her, pausing the smack her hard on her bare bottom with his gloved hand. It hurt and Melanie cried even more as she mourned the loss of her beloved Mac. At least all was not a total loss. Right before she was stripped naked in the general store, she'd told her daughter, Erin, to run away and not look back even as she and Mac tried to fight the Militiamen off. She was thankful that she saw Erin's dark brown tresses disappearing into the back of the general store never to come back. Melanie stumbled in her step again, hung her head, and let all of the tears out. It was better to do it now than to do it later. She'd need her strength for what she knew was coming.

Her and her family had emerged from the cryo vaults to a changed world. They'd prepared for this. Trained for it. But reality still had a way of rearing its ugly head and taking everything away. Now their unusual and unorthodox ways would now be coming into play in spades now. They'd prepared for the possibility of one or all of them becoming enslaved. Now it was time to put that training into practice.

At least Erin is still free...

she thought to herself.

I can endure so long as my daughter survives.

By the time she was dragged into the local saloon and brothel in the middle of town, she'd calmed down enough that she'd regained her wits about her. Now the only thing for her to do was obey commands and stay alive no matter the cost to her morals and dignity.

She was brought into the corner bar that looked like it'd been rebuilt to be straight out of an old western. It had an old saloon feel to it with the vaulted ceiling main room that had a balcony overlooking the bar area below. Melanie's red-streaked, tear stained eyes flicked upward to see the nine naked women of varying ages, all with metal collars and shackles on, looking down at her to check her out.

I'll be one of them soon enough...

she thought bitterly as she forced herself to wrap her mind about what her new lot in life was going to be. She had to if she was going to survive. She was pulled across the dusty barroom floor and made to stand in front of an older Militiaman that looked like Powers Booth from

Tombstone

, black hair, mustache and all. He looked her up and down appreciatively. "So... you're the woman down at the general store causing all the ruckus, huh?" he asked with an evil grin as he took the chain lead from his henchman. He wrapped the chain once in his hand and yanked hard, jerking Melanie over to stand in front of him. Then he reached up and fondled her right tit in his hand. "Not bad for an older woman," he mused. "Nice, soft, supple, just a little bit of sag. How old are you, woman, thirty-five? Forty?" he asked. When Melanie didn't dignify him with an answer, he growled, pulling the chain downward again, this time making her gasp as she was pulled down to the floor on her knees. "Do you know who I am, woman? I'm Charles Breckenridge, owner of this fucking town and a captain within the Militiamen, and I'm now your owner! So when I ask you a question, bitch, I expect an answer along with a 'Master' at the end. DO YOU GET ME, BITCH?"

"Yes... Master..." Melanie ground out hollowly even as she looked up at him and set her chin up defiantly even as his hand was still squeezing her breast hard.

Charles smiled. "Good. Now, how old are you and what's your tit size while we're at it?"

"I'm forty-five and I'm a thirty-six-C Cup... Master," Melanie gritted out.

"Good, good," Charles grinned, now rolling his thumb around her hardening nipple, sending jolts of unwanted pleasure coursing through her body. Her other nipple stiffened as a result and her sex went slick out of anticipation. When he slid his hand down her flat belly to cup her bare mound, her eyes closed, and her breath hitched as she was hit with another wave of forced pleasure from his touch. Now Charles' grin became even broader. "And you're already wet for me, I see, you slut," he said.

"Yes... Master," Melanie said through now clenched teeth as he slid a finger up inside of her. She didn't bother telling him that it was an autonomous reaction that her body was doing in preparation for being raped. Thugs like this man didn't care about facts. All he cared about was taking what he wanted. All she'd been doing, along with her family, were fighting off pissants like this ever since they came out of the cryo vault a year ago to a harsh, desolate, unforgiving world.

Charles was chuckling at her discomfort as he continued to finger her. "Ever have a real man between your legs before, bitch?" he asked, now jamming his middle finger all the way up inside of her. Now Melanie had a sharp intake of breath at the unexpected deep penetration as she rose up on her knees just a little bit as he pushed his finger all the way up to her cervix. "Well?" he asked, swirling his finger around inside of her. "Ever have someone take you like a man other than that cuck husband of yours that we're dealing with?"

"Well..." Melanie got out. It was getting hard to think about anything other than what he was doing to her body at the moment. She decided to, on the spur of the moment, to try a little name dropping. Maybe it would help get him off of her for a moment. "Caine was certainly a good lay... Master," she said with a taunting lit to her voice as she opened her eyes and smiled cruelly at him. She didn't even know if the Caine running around was the same athletic boy next door who'd had the hots for her daughter and had trained with them in all matters of prepping... and that included sexual assault endurance training that her husband and their friends, the Douglas', had done. She sincerely hoped that the Caine of today was the Caine that she knew and adored.

Either way, it got the effect that she wanted as everyone in the bar, including the whores who were up on the top balcony watching the new woman get molested, all gasped and recoiled. Even Charles jerked his hand back as if he'd been shocked. Melanie let out a sigh of relief when he removed his fingers from up inside of her pussy. The gunman who'd brought her in had gone pale and was shaking his head so hard that Melanie thought it was going to spin off. "Uh-uhn..." he stammered. "I ain't going down for taking one of Caine's women!" he said. "Not after what he did to the Crusaders!"

"Shut yer yap, boy," Charles admonished him, glaring over his shoulder. "Ain't no way he single handily took them out. He had help, I'm sure."

"Well what about the Chicago Shooters, huh?" another man asked from over at the bar. "Word is he walked right into

their

bar and kicked their teeth all in!"

"Caine is too busy out east to deal with us and even if he were out here, I doubt he'll be looking for one whore and her husband!" Charles snapped loud enough to get his men under control. "Get me a collar and shackles for my new whore here already!" he shouted to one man nearby who went running into the back as fast as he could move. He then gave Melanie a stern look as he brought his hand down to her pussy. Only instead of gently feeling her up, he slapped it, making her cry out in a high-pitched yelp of pain. "As for you, you bitch, who do you belong to now because you're no longer married and you sure as hell don't have mother-fucking Caine around to protect you!" He slapped her pussy again, making her cry out again. "Now, WHO DO YOU BELONG TO?"

"I... I b-b-belong to you... M-m-master..." Melanie blubbered as she was doubled over from the pain of her pussy being slapped hard, twice. She heard his henchman come back with a metal collar lined with leather on the inside along with four shackles that were attached in pairs together, also lined with leather. While Charles took the wrapped chains off of her wrists that had been used to bring her in here, the henchman took her left ankle and put it in a shackle, driving a cotter pin into latch and then breaking it off so that it could never be removed without anything short of a cutting torch. Then he did the same thing to her right ankle with it's matching cuff at the end of the short length of chain. Once her wrists were briefly free, the shackles were slapped on them in the chain's place. Charles himself took the collar, brushed her hair out of the way, encircled her neck with it, and then put the cotter pin in and broke it off. There was a certain sense of finality to it with the sound of the latch clicking closed and the cotter pin head snapping off. Melanie swallowed her pride and her tears as she steeled herself for the inevitable.

"Up, slave," Charles told her, grabbing the single ring that dangled in front of her collar for a chain to be latched to and pulling her up. Melanie rose to her feet, looking up at her new owner with a strange mixture of calm, resignation, and anticipation. This was just the sort of worst-case situation that she'd trained for just to be prepared to survive it. Sure, it was a kink way back when before the solar wave... sorry, 'the Flare' as they called it today... hit the Earth. Now it was a cruel reality. Charles pulled her over to a nearby table, kicking chairs out of the way. Melanie shuffled over, the chain between her ankles making a

chink-chink-chink-chink

sound with every hobbled step that she took. The chain keeping her wrists bound together no further than shoulder width apart swayed and bounced against the front of her thighs. Charles bent her over the table so fast that she didn't even have time to catch herself. Her arms wound up being pinned beneath her torso as he kicked her legs as far apart as they would go with the chain and shackles restraining them. "I'm going to teach you the meaning of respect, bitch," he growled as she heard the unmistakable sound of a belt clearing denim belt loops. "This is for you and your bastard husband shooting up my shop and killing my men," he said. "This is also for that cunt that was traveling with you who helped." She felt the cold leather of his belt caress her round, bare ass and she mentally prepared herself for what was coming. "Be sure and count them out,

slave

."

Melanie heard the belt cutting through the air a half second before she heard the slap of leather on skin and felt the sting on her ass. She didn't cry out this time. She'd been expecting this. Truth be told it wasn't even the first time she'd ever been whipped, spanked, paddled, or even caned. Even so, it still hurt, and it drew tears back to her eyes. "One, Master," she said as hollow as she felt inside. As she heard the second spank coming, and she counted it out, her mind drifted back to when Mac, her husband, and his best friend, Thomas Douglas, had done this the first time. They had her and her best friend, Irene Douglas, on their knees, hands tied behind their backs and were taking turns spanking the two of them. She remembered that the Douglas' boy, Caine, had Erin over in the corner and was doing his own form of sexual torture with her. The thought brought back pleasant memories for her and made her even wetter even though her husband and the Douglas' were now all gone. Thomas and Irene for certain; they'd seen their bodies in the cryo pods when they rushed out of the vault. Caine, however, was missing. "Ten, Master," Erin said once her new owner and master got up to that number of smacks on her ass and had paused to reach up between her legs to feel her up again.

"Damn, you wet, woman," Charles mused. She heard him sniff deeply, no doubt having brought his fingers up to his nose to inhale her scent. "You're enjoying this!"

"Yes, Master," she said morosely, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that half of it was a bit of a turn on for her and the other half was merely a Pavlovian response to stimulus from what she'd trained and prepped for.

"Well then you shouldn't have any problem coming on my cock then, should you?" he asked.

"No, Master," Melanie replied in the same monotone, noncommittal voice as she heard him undo his pants. Then she felt him drive his hard cock into her body, making her rock back and forth on the table. "Ungh..." she grunted as he speared deep into her. She closed her eyes and moaned with every hard thrust into her even as he dug his fingers into her hips to pull every time.

As much as I hate to say it, dear,

her husband's words from training came back to her,

but should this happen to you, you might as well find some way to enjoy it. It'll be better for your survival in the long run with your captors if they think that you're a willing and pliable participant rather than an unwilling, uncooperative victim.

Mac would've known too as he'd been a criminal and terrorist psychologist, specializing in profiling and hostage negotiations, prior to the word of the impending end of the world came and they'd started prepping.

Remember that, god forbid, if that ever happens, I won't hold anything that you do to stay alive against you and that I still love you.

I love you too, dear...

Melanie thought in response to the memory even though she was pretty sure that Mac was now lying dead in the streets outside. She'd always love her husband, but she'd find some kind of solace in having sex with other men, be they willing partners or her captors from here on out. She swore that she'd never love another one ever again, no matter who was in bed with her and no matter how much she enjoyed sex. Mac would always have her heart. With that thought, she managed to worm her hands down to her abdomen to get a finger on her clit as Charles ruthlessly pounded her from behind. Soon she was grunting and groaning, "Oh... oh... oh..." while she was being fucked.

"That's right, slut, cum for me," Charles said with savage glee. "Cum on my cock. Cum for your Master as I shoot my load deep up into you."

"Yes, Master," Melanie breathed, fingering her clit even harder while Charles' cock pistoned in and out of her tightness. She felt his cock start to swell within her. "OOOH!" She cried out as she came hard. A moment later she felt his cock twitch as it started spurting his cum deep up into her pussy. Even as her body was shuddering in climax with his, a tiny part of her mind was thankful that she'd taken a sliver of that wonderful weed that people called RadRoot lately. She'd run out of her year's supply of birth control pills not too long ago and so had to resort to the strange, bitter root that people now used to prevent pregnancy. Melanie sighed with relief as her body relaxed on the table while Charles finished up inside of her.

Once he was done and he'd stuffed his cock back into his pants, Charles grabbed Melanie by the back of her collar to haul her back up to her feet. Melanie realized that she'd left a couple of wet spots on the table; one from her tears and her drool from the orgasm, and the second from her pussy and his cum that was now oozing out of her. Without even giving her a chance to clean up, Charles was pulling her around the table towards the circular staircase that followed the wall around on up to the second floor. There, she was hauled into the first empty room that had nothing more than a bed, a nightstand, and a simple bathroom that was hardly bigger than a closet; just big enough for a claw foot tub with a hook shower head, the toilet, and the sink. On the far wall, opposite the little entry way that was next to the bathroom, was a single window that had yellowed curtains flaking it that might've once been white, and she saw wrought iron bars through the small openings between the fabric. He tossed her onto the bed and grabbed up a long chain that was attached to the headboard that had a lock at the end of it. He fished a key out from his keychain to unlock the padlock and use it to attach the chain to her hook on the collar. "The plumbing all works. Clean your bitch ass up after every client then go out to the railing to attract more customers," he said, pointing out the door to where the other girls with their chains running into their rooms, presumably to their beds. "Keep the room clean, keep yourself clean, and," he motioned to a smooth, phallic looking piece of wood that was mounted to the footboard of the bed, sticking up and at her at a 45 degree angle, "make sure you suck on your RadRoot here every night, if not every client. You're responsible for cleaning your own linens in the tub when they get dirty and you will be inspected every morning. I'm running a brothel, not a hotel or day care." With that, Charles turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

"Yes, Master," Melanie sighed in his wake. She took a moment to look around her room; single full sized bed with a couple of old blankets on it, various latches and hooks both on the bed and around the room for her to be anchored to, and a lot of different paddles, dildos, plugs, and various other restraining devices hung on the wall opposite her bed. With a heavy sigh, she rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. She took a moment to grip the sides of the porcelain sink in there, hanging her head and having a good, long cry to lament her new status. She needed to get the rest of her tears and sorrow out now. Today was the first day of the rest of her life as a slave.

***

CHAPTER 132: Erin

Back at one of her safehouses within Billings, Erin sat on the floor with her back to a wall facing the now locked and bolted door. "Stupid... stupid... stupid..." she said over and over again while gently thumping the barrel of her rifle against her forehead. "Why the fuck didn't you stop them, Erin?" she demanded out loud. It was a stupid question, really, and just like her best friend, Caine, who used to quote

Die Hard

all the time, she answered it out loud. "Because then you'd be dead too, stupid bitch." She leaned her head back, looked at the ceiling, and sighed. "Fucking hell..."