Making Her Wet

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Honor Thy Master

Moses took a final draw on the cigar as his electronic office door chimed and slid open. It was just after noon, and the half dozen surveillance monitors to either side of his desk showed busy hallways as residents formed up for their midday meal. As usual, guards were compelled to force their way into a couple of rooms so as to drag out slackers. Such lazy prisoners were hustled to detention, where they would be put in solitary pending judgment. Moses looked forward to reading the incident reports in the morning, and absolutely relished the subsequent visits he would make to the prison, where he would meet the offenders and sentence them. The fear on their faces pleased him like nothing else.

Through the newly-opened door strolled Jessica, dressed in the black bodysuit, boots and gold collar that identified her as his Slave Warden. She was a slave herself, of course, but he'd promoted her to the coveted position nearly five years ago. After having to execute a string of incompetent wardens prior to her appointment, it had been a breath of fresh air to have someone reliably merciless at his right hand. He loved her. He loved her so much that, if she were male, he would have without hesitation named her Joshua. Having sentenced his last three Joshuas to the roasting spit, and still having not replaced the last one, the idea of having Jessica undergo a sex-alteration appealed to him on one level. However, she was a beautiful woman of mixed ethnicity: full lips, wavy black hair, and a thick, atheltic body. Masculinizing her would be such a waste.

Accompanying the Slave Warden was a tall woman with pert, freckled breasts. She wore a black leather hood, but long locks of fiery hair escaped the collar at her neck and spilled over her pale shoulders. Nude apart from the headwear, she trudged wearily in heavy shackles, with wrists and elbows cuffed behind her back.

Placing the spent cigar in his ashtray, Moses leaned forward and folded arms on his desk. Jessica approached proudly with her prisoner and bowed her head in subservience.

"Master," she said.

"What has this one done?" he asked. "Renee Sorinson, sentenced to thirty days for tardiness, correct?"

"Yes, Master."

"It hasn't even been a week."

"She was being placed in a restraint chair for lunch and became combative toward her handler. The block commander ordered her placed into disciplinary restraint. After being hogtied, she spat out her gag before it could be secured. Then she shouted blasphemy toward you, Master. I was summoned immediately. I bring this blasphemer before you now for punishment or mercy, as required by your law."

Moses watched the offender tremble and sob as she stood with her covered head drooped in shame, fear, or both.

"Let her speak," he said.

Jessica released the collar holding the hood in place and jerked it off with not even a hint of gentleness. Long red hair clung briefly to the device before falling to the sides of a pleasant enough face. The prisoner's nose was perhaps a tiny bit too angular, and her tear-stained cheeks were a tad bony, but she surely fell into the middle aesthetic ranks.

"Look at your Master," Jessica ordered harshly, "and beg his forgiveness for your betrayal."

Moses met the prisoner's eyes, nodding to indicate that she was was to follow the Slave Warden's command.

Renee's mouth quivered, but then she breathed deeply and collected herself.

"I am not an animal," she said, only a hint of fear in her voice.

"No," Moses agreed, "you are a slave. You are my slave."

"I was not told that my protection would be provided at the cost of ... of everything. I expected to be a whore, not livestock."

"Have I not provided protection?"

Renee looked down. "Yes."

"Where else can you find such luxury?"

"Nowhere," she admitted.

"And yet you slander me."

The prisoner looked back up, her eyes narrowed even as tears continued to fall. "It isn't slander if it is true."

Moses glanced at Jessica. "What exactly did she say?"

The Slave Warden seized Renee's chin. "Tell him. Tell him every word, exactly as you screamed them from your cell."

The lesser slave closed her eyes and quoted herself, "I am not an animal. Moses is the animal. Moses is a liar and a rapist. Moses is a liar and a rapist. Most is a liar and a rapist."

Her eyes reopened as she finished the last line, and in her gaze was the certain presence of fear, yes, but also a clear look that said she believed what she had said and regretted not a word of it.

"Remorseless cunt," Moses whispered.

"I wish to be released," Renee said, her voice cracking.

"You ask for what you know will never happen. Are you delusional or just that desperate?"

"This harem of yours won't last forever. Eventually, we will find the will to fight you in numbers that can't be dealt with by simply calling your brainwashed security service. For every one of us that you imprison and murder, a dozen others pretend to love you, lying in wait."

Moses leaped from his chair and stomped around the desk. Jessica knew to back away, but Renee surprisingly held her ground. He seized the slave by the throat and marched her into an adjacent room housing an assortment of restraint, torture and execution devices. Selecting a wooden pillory in the back right corner, he left the woman's arms shackled behind her back and he forced her to bend over. Holding her in place with one hand, he locked her neck down in the stock with his other, rendering her helpless with her round buttocks thrust outward.

By the time Moses removed his pants, his penis was already engorged. Renee wiggled and cried and tried to defend her pale bottom from the inevitable, but all she did was make him more aroused. He loved it when they struggled.

She screamed when he slammed into pussy without even a hint of foreplay, and then she settled into a string of grunts and sobs. While he worked, he spat on her anus and forced a latex plug deep into her. She shuddered and squealed and clutched at the air with her bound hands. He spanked her viciously as the two halves of her ass bounced to either side of his cock.

"Ungrateful, remorseless cunt," he growled.

She squealed but said nothing.

"Gag this fucking cunt," Moses called over his shoulder anyway.

Jessica appeared in seconds and grabbed a handful of the slave's red hair. A violent jerk brought out another cry of pain, and the warden reacted quickly, shoving a huge red ball between Renee's lips and wedging it behind her teeth. Renee tried to turn away and dislodge the gag with her tongue, but Jessica cinched it tight and gave the disobedient bitch a hard slap across the face.

Completely subdued, Renee surrendered and let her head hang in the pillory. Drool streamed from her mouth to the floor, and her small tits bounced in time with the cock punishing her from behind. She still shook her ass every few seconds, giving half-hearted attempts to dislodge the ebony shaft giving her grief, but it was useless. Mostly, she just wept and accepted it.

At the edge of climax, Moses pulled out and walked around to her front. Grabbing her hair for himself now, he forced her to face his swollen penis just as it exploded. Semen splattered against her forehead, nose and cheeks, mixing with her tears as it crept down across her gag and chin. When he could come no more, Moses used his spent dick as a blunt instrument, slapping it solidly on one side of her face and then the other. She grimaced around the red ball, and the hate in her eyes as she watched him abuse her was nothing short of delicious, just as her body would taste when he had the chef serve her tonight.

Placing both hands around her throat, he squeezed. The hate turned to fear, and she found one last burst of energy to flail with her shackled legs and arms. In her instinctive panic, she bashed the base of her skull against the pillory stock as she tried to pull free. Moses proved too strong, of course, as he always did, and she submitted fully in only a few seconds. Her cum-drenched face turned purple. She gurgled behind the ballgag as her breath and circulation were denied in tandem. After a few involuntary twitches, her body fell limp against the restraint device, hanging by the neck with her knees not quite reaching the floor.

He shouldn't have killed her so quickly. He already needed to go again.

Looking up, he found Jessica standing nearby, hands clasped behind her back and her chin up as she awaited his next command.

"Call the butcher," he said. "Have him collect this meat and prepare it for tonight. Then remove your uniform, put on your gag and bind yourself to the rack. I'm going to fuck you, and your performance will determine how much pain is involved.. Be quick about it, or you ass gets the cane before I start."

Jessica bowed. "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."

She hurried back into the office to make the call, already unfastening her bodysuit as she went.

Of course, he would flog Jessica and stretch her to the point of screams no matter how quickly she readied herself, but it amused him to make her think her effort meant something.

Moses spat on Renee's bound corpse three times. The sight of it made his cock hard all over again. He might have to keep Jessica tied down in here for the rest of the day. Short of having another prisoner brought up for execution, he would need his Slave Warden's intimate services at least a few more times. Usually, she was up to it. He hoped she would be at her best now, because he felt the God-Need burning inside, and he didn't want to kill her. She was his female Joshua, and he loved her, but he would crush the life from her in a heartbeat if demanded by God. It had been this way for a dozen years, and this way it would remain.

"This harem of yours won't last forever."

Oh, but it would. God had promised it. Unfortunately, the mouthy cunt Renee was too dead to realize this. Perhaps Satan was informing her this very minute as he welcomed her traitorous soul to Hell, and the thought made Moses smile.

Megan's Dream

Scientific Curiosity

Support from the Famarian military had been promised by the Board, and it was for that reason alone Leslie had accepted the overseas assignment. Upon the science team landing in the third-world jungle nation, that support had arrived as promised: one man, Sergeant Bwasi Monbusa. When a local tribe attacked the remote camp some twenty-four hours ago, Bwasi had conveniently disappeared, leaving the six-member science outpost defenseless. It had been destroyed. The five male scientists had been castrated and beheaded. The only female, Director Leslie Keyes herself, had been dragged off with her outstretched arms bound to a wooden pole.

For much of the past day, she had lain on the ground under a heavy canopy of foliage, her arms and legs staked in the form of an X. She still wore her khaki shorts and white tank top, but a pair of ebony-skinned women had pulled the tail of the shirt up above her breasts and cut off her bra. In the hours since being placed here, a group of lithe, mostly-nude females had approached her periodically to sprinkle the crushed petals of purple Vokk flowers over her body. Some whole specimens were woven into her collar-length hair. She knew the Famarian tribes preceded any number of rituals in this manner. Which ones, she couldn't say. Regardless, the velvet-like sensations against her flesh had driven her to struggle every time. The tribals had never reprimanded her for this. In fact, they seemed to enjoy watching.

Chatting with them was out of the question. When they had first captured her, she had been too distraught to do anything but scream. After they killed the men, she had resorted to threats. A half-hour into the jungle hike, dread had convinced her that bribes and begging were a more appropriate tactic. Unfortunately, the natives either didn't understand the international language or didn't care what she said.

At some point in that first hour, they'd gagged her with a thick leather strap. It remained between her teeth even now, but the women removed it occasionally to dribble water into her mouth. It was never enough, and she stayed thirsty, but they at least seemed to have some reason for keeping her alive.

At nightfall, the drums came to life, like soft thunder but too steady. Leslie lifted her tired head and turned toward the sound, but through the thick plantlife she could discern only the deep glow of a distant fire. Apart from a few torches flickering in the village proper, everything was black. The jungle overhead was effective enough at deadening the direct sun. When all it had to contend with was stars and a quarter moon, the only light one could expect was that which one created for himself and the sporadic green flashes of flying Jarwa bugs.

For an hour she lay in darkness and listened to the percussion, needing to urinate badly but determined not to. Then, like spirits, four of the women who'd tended her previously emerged from the trees and knelt around her. As before, their muscular bodies were naked, though now they wore designs on their faces, intricate and varied geometry in white paint. Wooden jewelry hung from ears. Smaller studs of bone and metal pierced noses, lips, nipples and labia. All of them were bald, both on their heads and between their legs, and Leslie found herself transfixed despite the fear bubbling in her stomach.

They untied her. Hoping for the best, she didn't fight as they helped her stand on trembling legs. While two women held her arms, a third knelt and unbuttoned her shorts. Sobbing softly, Leslie kept still as her lower garments, panties and all, slipped over her hips and bottom and fell to her feet. Without encouragement, she stepped out, hoping to show them that force wasn't necessary. When her bare feet were clear, the women holding her arms pulled off her tank top and rendered her as naked as they were.

Leaving her gag in place, they marched her a few paces into the thick forest and made her stand with her legs spread. Confused as the apparent leader commanded her in some ancient Famarian dialect, pressure on her shoulders finally indicated that she should crouch, so she did. When the unintelligble language grew increasingly frustrated, she shook her head.

"I don't understand!" she cried, though the actual noise through her gag only somewhat resembled the intended words.

The leader reached between Leslie's thighs, roughly slapped her crotch and pointed at the ground. She then realized they wanted her to piss. No, she couldn't. Not like this, not in front of them.

Shaking her head again as tears filled her eyes, she shrieked as a thin branch landed forcefully across her butt. When obedience didn't manifest quickly enough, a second stroke directly followed the first. Accepting the situation to prevent further pain, Leslie sighed and let her bladder go. It was humiliation and relief all at once.

Newly humbled, she went with resignation as they returned her to the spot where she'd spent the day restrained on the ground, helpless as insects and humans alike fondled her at will. The women did not place her back between the stakes, however. They kept her standing, legs apart and arms crossed behind her head, and they bathed her with rags and clean water. Fresh flowers were woven into her hair, and a sweetly-scented oil was rubbed over her body, including her face, buttocks and genitals.

Part of Leslie regretted not learning more about Famarian tribal culture, thinking perhaps that knowledge might have granted her a way out of this mess. On the other hand, another part of her was prefectly content to not know what awaited.

When the leader deemed the preparations satisfactory, she jerked Leslie's arms behind her back and, with admirable efficiency, crossed her wrists and tied them together with thin strings made from some jungle fiber. It hurt, and she again cried through her gag. A second length went around her upper body and arms, multiple stands layered above and below her breasts, cinched down so tightly that her tits swelled and stood out even more prominently than usual. A third piece of twine went around her ankles, ensuring that she would not break away but leaving enough slack for her to walk.

And walk she did, escorted by two women holding her arms, a third behind her and their painted superior leading the way. Grateful for the worn path under her callous-free bare feet, Leslie shuffled along and kept her eyes down.

The drum beats grew louder and louder as the journey progressed, finally peaking in volume ten minutes later as the group slipped free of the trees and into a large clearing.

Hundreds of villagers stood in a circle around a bonfire, all silent as hands reached toward the towering flames and heads bobbed in time with the beat. A wooden platform rose in front of the fire, with two large, painted, naked men standing motionless on top of it. The women took Leslie to them. Climbing the five steps under their gaze, she watched their large, flaccid penises grow hard at her approach.

Her compliance strategy fell apart. Primal terror took over, and she thrashed in the grip of her captors as they offered her up as a plaything. Between the four females and two males, of course, she had no chance. In a sudden rush that left her reeling after the long days of quiet worry, they hauled her violently before the crowd and forced her to kneel. When she kicked at them, her ankles were released briefly and then re-tied without the slack. Her feet now bound in earnest, yet another piece of twine was secured just above her knees.

Out around the fire, the villagers began to chant as the drums adopted a more aggressive rhythm. While she couldn't decipher a word of it, something told her that they weren't petitioning for her release.

The lovely, muscular women withdrew, giving the bulky men full control. One forced her to bend over until her breasts pressed against the rough wood. Still kneeling, the position thrust her ass upward. While the first man held her down by the shoulders, the second shoved his massive cock into her from behind before she could even brace for it. New tears burned her eyes and cheeks, and desperate pleas escaped her throat, only to be muffled by the thick leather between her lips.

Apparently having looked forward to fucking the pale-skinned prisoner all day, the tribal man made no attempt to be gentle. On the contrary, he seemed to revel in hurting her, slamming his full length and girth into her pussy with as much force as he could manage. Somewhere in the midst of her panic, she found a sliver of reason and told herself that, being so excited, he was sure to come quickly. When he pulled out after only a few vigorous minutes, she thought this might actually be the case.

But no.

He only wanted to reposition himself. Taking a slightly higher stance, he pulled her buttocks apart and fucked her ass too. If even possible, it hurt worse. Her insides shook under each brutal thrust. She screamed and wept and struggled until he finished, and she felt his semen draining out of her rectum.

Not allowed even a second to recover, Leslie submitted limply as the rapist took her by the neck and forced her upright. It wasn't an ending, but a shift change. He placed a forearm under her chin and took hold of her hair with his other hand. The man to her front stood ready. In one seemingly well-practiced motion, he pulled her gag free and shoved his cock into her mouth. It was like being forced to swallow a fist. The substantial circumference pried her jaws apart so far that the cruel leather was comfortable by comparison.

She whined softly as he forced his penis deep into her throat, activating her gag reflex more than once. Stomach acid burned her esophagus and tongue, but he never quite took her to the point of throwing up. Even if he had, she hadn't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, and she had no reason to think that would have made him stop anyway.

When the second man ejaculated, the initial spurt shot against the back of her throat. Then he pulled out and sprayed the rest on her face. Perhaps in shock, certainly defeated, she kept her mouth open and took it like a porn star. When he was done, he took hold of his cock and used it to smear the goo around so that it mixed with the scented oil and covered her from brow to chin.

The first man let go and threw her aside like garbage. She fell onto her left shoulder and just stayed there, used and broken. Chants and drumming continued, and she wished for sleep. Instead, the four women reappeared and and rolled her onto her belly. The beautiful leader of the group then put two hands under Leslie's hips and lifted them, once again placing her on her knees, with her ass to the sky and ready to receive.

Delicate fingers slipped in and out of her tender anus several times, depositing some sort of lubrication. If only they had been so kind a few minutes ago. She squealed weakly at the idea more so than at any actual increase in pain. It didn't last long, thankfully. When the fingers were gone, the cool gel actually felt kind of nice. Her girls knew how to treat her, unlike those men with the giant graceless cocks.

The drums sped up again.

In a state of complete surrender, Leslie hardly flinched when something new touched her ass. It was hard and sharp.

One woman held her down at the shoulders. Another put full weight on her ankles and kept her bound feet pinned to the platform floor. The third tribal locked one strong arm around her stomach and, with the other hand, held Leslie's buttocks apart, just as the man had done before the ass-rape. The leader held whatever it was they were about to use on her, and Leslie just closed her eyes and waited.

At first it was gentle, an initial stick followed by a smooth, painless entry. Smaller than the dick that had been forced in moments ago, the device slipped deep into her rectum. She wiggled her bottom out of morbid curiosity, making no serious attempt to resist. Still, the women took notice and renewed their holds, clamping down on her even harder.

Flexing her fingers and toes under their restraints, Leslie whispered, "I'm sorry. I won't fight. Please finish. Please...."

The rod continued on. Where it should have stopped if this was just another bizarre fucking session, it kept going. The sharp pain in her gut was sudden and unbearable, but the tribals were ready for her reflexive reaction. She strained against her bonds and felt her jaw lock in agony. A howl of pain surged from her lungs, only to exit through clenched teeth as a sob. Something warm and wet spread inside her. Some of it leaked from her anus and ran between her thighs.

All sense of her surroundings left, save for the pounding drums, chanting and the pole being driven through her. She knew what it was now. They were impaling her, either as an execution or for some other purpose. Maybe they wanted to leave her ravaged body staked in the ruins of the science camp as a warning to the Board. Maybe they just hated outsiders this much.

When the piercing discomfort climbed into her trembling stomach, she finally managed to open her mouth for a scream. At least it felt like a scream. Her chest contracted and ached from the effort, but she could hardly hear herself over the drums and screaming villagers. Whatever happened, she vomited blood at the same time. Her body shook. She was cold, which made no sense. She remembered a huge fire. She was in the jungle. Or was she at the polar station? No, that project had closed last year....

Polar. Pole her.

Leslie wanted to laugh, but the fucking pole was in her throat now. She could feel it creeping up like a very disagreeable last meal. She tried to swallow it, which was just stupid. Then someone grabbed her hair and pulled her head back gently. The thing reached her mouth, pushed across her tongue and between her teeth. It emerged, a bloody wooden stake, and her weary eyes remained alert enough to track it to completion. Only when jutting from her lips by an arm's length did it stop moving.

Hands seized her ankles and turned her onto her side. She tried to focus, tried to stay awake, and she deduced that they were binding her feet to the rod. She fought, making a liar out of herself, but she couldn't move. From the bondage or blood loss, she wasn't sure. Once she was secure, two women situated themselves at each end, and they hefted Leslie off the floor. Her head swam as her bodyweight sank against the pole. She squirmed against it to no avail.

Resting her impalement device on their shoulders, the tribals carefully carried her down the steps, not jarring her too badly. Every step was agony, but they were trying to be easy. She could tell.

My girls, she thought. My girls take good care of me.

At the bottom of the stairs, a fifth woman waited. She was a bit older and heavier, bald and naked like the others, but with the addition of exquisite jewelry alongside the usual bone and wood. Skeleton hands joined by a wire supported her heavy breasts, and golden stars hung from her nipples. Diamond studs adorned her brows and nose, and necklaces fashioned from sapphires, emeralds and human teeth hung from her neck. Pauldrons made from a divided human pelvis covered her shoulders.

To either side of the woman stood two men. Leslie tried to focus, as they looked familiar. Everything was growing blurry, and the orange light was dimming around her, but she needed to know. Yes, she had seen them before. She'd once been deployed to the jungle of Famaria, and the science camp had been attacked by a local tribe. During the attack, a woman had been captured and raped. These men had been the ones to do it. She was sure of it. She'd seen it, so surely she had been there. For the life of her, she couldn't recall how she'd gotten out of that mess, but it seemed like only yesterday.

The stunning older woman reached out an ebony hand and gently stroked Leslie's face. It was comforting, and she tried to smile in appreciation, but something in her mouth wouldn't let her face work.

To the men with her, the woman said something in a quiet tone, then she drifted away.

Don't leave me with them. Please don't leave me....

Suddenly very tired, Leslie watched the males approach. They were going to rape her. They were going to tie her up and fuck her in front of everyone, just like they had done to that other poor woman before....

Except they didn't. Instead, with the girls helping, they produced a delicious assortment of fruits from a nearby basket. One at a time, they slid the food onto a pole that was, for some reason, protruding from Leslie's mouth. She thought to seek an explanation, but first she needed to sleep. Her eyes closed, and she faded away as a prickly wildapple pressed against her face, leaving the pleasant scent of citrus to mingle with the blood in her nose.

Making the Most of a Bad Situation

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