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.

The Betrayal of Ariana

Storage Facility

Better Than Chains

"A minute in the noose is better than a lifetime in chains."
-Petra D'Aquin (her last words)

Waiting Your Turn

Window Shopping

Please Buy Me

In those first days, Tiffany had been unsure which was worse: being dragged to the filthy market every day and put on display for hours at a time, or finally being purchased and beginning her new life as a slave. After a week under Master Jack's "care," she realized that she would do anything, go with anyone for any reason, if only it would get her away from him.

All Aboard the Slave Train

Slave's Salvation

"Brandy."

 The voice seemed far away, but it shook the inside of her head. Sluggish and confused, she tried to reply but couldn't.

"Brandy, if you can hear me, get up."

Someone mumbled. Herself, she realized. She tried to remember how she'd gotten here, but nothing made any sense.

"Get up," the voice repeated, a hint of impatience now detectable.

Mustering all of her strength and will, she forced her consciousness through the haze and at last sensed a touch of blue light against her eyelids. Slowly, ignoring the burn and the dizziness, she opened them. Before her hovered a glowing mess of color. As she focused, the kaleidoscope solidified into the chiseled face of Moses on a large plasma screen. He watched her with indifference, narrow eyes neither fascinated nor disinterested in the scene before him. The video feed glitched occasionally, garbage lines and distorted clusters of pixels marring the otherwise crisp transmission.

Desperate to behave, she tried to push herself upright in order to kneel properly, but she could not bring her hands around. Fumbling about on her side, she quickly determined that her wrists and elbows were cuffed behind her back. Moving her legs proved that her ankles, too, were shackled, with only centimeters of play between them. Glancing down the length of her body, she found herself not only chained, but completely naked.

And ... pregnant.

"Oh my god," she whispered, barely able to get the words through her throat.

Her breasts were heavy, and the unmistakable bulge of her middle rested on the cold stone floor of the cell.

"Surprised?" Moses asked.

Suddenly shivering, Brandy writhed about in place until finally managing to sit up. From there she maneuvered her body and its excess weight into a kneeling position. Placing her bottom on her calves, she sat with her arms bound behind her and bowed her head. Plain brown hair fell against her cheeks and reached far enough to cover her swollen, tender tits. Last she recalled, her hair been shoulder length.

"Sir," she said, unable to keep her voice steady.

"You've been in partial stasis for eight months," he told her. "The drugs will keep you slightly disoriented for some time. As long as you do not feel nauseous, we will proceed."

"What ... what happened? Where am I?"

Motors whirred. Mechanical arms supporting the giant screen shoved it forward until the face of Moses was less than an arm's length from hers.

"Look at me," he demanded.

She lifted her gaze, ashamed of the tears but more afraid of disobeying.

"Look at me," Moses repeated, his amplified voice hurting her ears. "Look at me and confess your sins. Be careful that you do not insult my intelligence. Grave consequences can always be made worse."

Sobbing aloud, Brandy explained, "I didn't know, Sir. If I'd known, I would have immediately turned myself over to your mercy."

"Stupid bitch, you cannot turn yourself over to me when I already have you. You cannot know anything about yourself before I do. You are mine. You were mine the second you submitted to my care, and you will always be mine. Now confess your sins before I have you slaughtered this very second."

Terrified and dizzy and confused, she said, "I was unfaithful, Sir."

"Why?"

"I thought I loved him."

"After everything I've given you? How could you?"

She shook her head and tried to reason out some manner of defense for her behavior, but she had none. "I ... I lost control, and I have no excuse. I'm guilty, and I will do anything within my power to make it up to you."

The screen drifted back a meter and glided to a halt. Moses leaned forward and folded his arms across his desk.

"Yes, you will," he confirmed, "starting with the name of your accomplice."

Brandy closed her eyes. "You will execute him."

"Such is the penalty for betrayal. You know that."

"I.... Yes. Yes, Sir."

"I will grant ten seconds for you to ponder this, then you will provide the correct answer or be taken to the courtyard for impaling."

Trembling, she looked from side to side, up at the ceiling and down at the floor, but the black stone offered no counsel.

"Please, Sir," she said, weeping, "show me mercy. I beg you."

"You showed me no mercy when you held my heart in your hands and chose to cast it into fire! Five seconds."

Unable to suppress the fear, she blurted, "He was one of the Unclean. The slaves in Ward Eleven call him Warren. He succumbed to my advances. It was my fault. Punish me, please. Only me."

The massive screen retreated further, and the image flickered from interference. Moses' handsome face turned momentarily hideous, one eye displaced to where his mouth should be and the other elongated to several times its normal height.

"Warren has already been punished."

Brandy flinched. "No...."

"Yes! My matrons took nearly an hour to drive a spit through his quivering body, and he was conscious for most of it. He cooked for most of an afternoon, and we dined on him that night. We have laws, Brandy. You know them, and you know the consequences of breaking them. So did your illegal lover."

She dropped her head again, bowing out of reflex but also too defeated to look up anymore. Her shoulders ached from being pulled back by the elbow restraints, but she otherwise felt suddenly and strangely numb. It was all true, of course. She and Warren had both known what would happen if they were caught, though never had she anticipated getting pregnant and her weekly physical catching it before she did.

"That leaves us only with the matter of your sentence," Moses continued. "Stasis is common practice when my slaves are unfaithful, because my immediate reaction in these situations is almost always a public, painful execution on the roasting spit. Over the years, I've learned to be patient, because there are options. There are always options. It is just a matter of finding them. Would you like to hear your options, my unfaithful little whore?"

Brandy thought, No, but she nodded once and replied, "Yes, Sir. Please, Sir."

"Good. You have two. The first is freedom. I will have your chains removed, and you will be released through the North Gate into the outskirts. I suppose there is a tiny chance that you will survive, but you will probably find anonymity nowhere. I ensured that word of your affair with Warren was spread far and wide. Since the Unclean are typically as averse to their kind mingling with ours as we are, the most likely scenario is that you will be dragged through the streets, sodomized and branded with hot irons for being a whore, then ultimately crucified before the screaming, bloodthirsty masses. If you're lucky, they will stone you to death as you hang and bleed on your cross. If you aren't lucky, you could take hours or days to die, all while continuing to be sodomized, fondled and beaten by passers-by."

Bile teased the back of Brandy's throat, but she swallowed hard and resisted.

Moses said, "Your second option is to stand up and walk to the back of this cell. In the corner you will find a wooden stool and a noose. You are to place your head through the noose and kick the stool from under yourself. Restrained as you are, there will be no change of heart. You will strangle there and die, hopefully quickly. Justice will be served, and your sins will be forgiven."

She found the strength to look up. Her lips quivered, but she found her voice.

"Is there no other option?"

"None."

"Not even if I wait ... in hopes of finding one? Your mercy? Please, Sir. Please...."

"This judgment is final! If you hesitate, I will have you thrown to the Unclean mob."

"Then I ... I will submit to the noose as you require."

"On your feet, bitch."

Struggling with her unfamiliar weight, Brandy rose off of her calves and pushed with her toes. There was too little slack between her ankles to do much else. Unsteady and weak, she nonetheless stood and faced her master, swollen breasts and belly thrust forward due to her arms being shackled behind her back.

"My baby," she said softly to the man on the screen.

"Medical personnel will deliver your child right here as soon as you've expired. It will receive the best care we can offer. Doctors rate survival chances as fair. So you may die knowing that your one act as a mother was a good one: illustrating the folly of life as an ungrateful slut who fucks the Unclean."

Tears again tried to fall, but Brandy stayed firm and answered, "Thank you, Sir."

She didn't even feel humiliated anymore. She simply felt more than ever that this was just her fate, to be a filthy slut in chains for her master's amusement. Anything he commanded, even her suicide, it was her duty to obey. She didn't want to. She didn't choose to. It was just who she had become, who everyone had become in exchange for the sheltered life Moses offered. The alternative was disease and starvation, death stretched over months or years instead of a few hours on a roasting spit or a moment of vicious strangulation. In this world, perhaps the noose was a kindness.

"Carry out your sentence," Moses said quietly.

"Yes, Sir," Brandy replied.

She turned and shuffled away from the screen, taking tiny steps with her chained feet. She found the stool in the corner as promised, and above it dangled a noose fashioned from simple white rope. The loop had been made wide to accommodate a bound prisoner, who needed to fit the apparatus around her own neck without using her hands.

Brandy first knelt on the stool. The hardwood ground uncomfortably against her knees, but she quickly scooted forward until her toes found the edge of the seat. Cautiously, she put her weight on one foot, then the other, and finally righted herself on wobbly legs.

Turning around, she faced the awaiting noose and found it at just the right height, the base at just about collar level so she could place her chin over it and cinch the rope by simply applying her own weight. With a deep breath, she leaned forward before losing her courage, whimpering slightly as she bent her knees and allowed the material to slip softly around her neck. She leaned forward a little more and let the knot tighten. When it was snug, she realized there would indeed be no squirming out even if she wanted to.

Knowing every moment she delayed was just additional torture, Brandy took a final look down at her body. Gently, she tugged at the handcuffs on her elbows and wrists, wiggling her hips from side to side as she tested them. With her shoulders pinned back, she shook her swollen breasts and watched them bounce. The token struggling and sight of her bound body left an electric tingle between her legs. On top of the fear, sadness and regret, she now felt an unexpected sense of curiosity. But she quickly discarded all such thoughts, lest Moses decide a more gruesome punishment would be fitting after all.

It seemed so wrong. She was Moses' slave. Up until she'd fallen for Warren, she had been a good one. She'd always done her work. She'd given him her body, serviced him and danced when ordered to. She'd stayed in shape and taken care of herself as demanded. Now damn if he couldn't even grant her the dignity of killing her himself. She deserved that at least, right? How could this be happening? Was Moses a tyrant, using the desire of others to escape the stigma of being Unclean to simply pleasure and amuse himself?

How could she finally ask these questions only now, as mere centimeters of slack rope and a wooden stool stood between her and death? Regardless, there was only one way out now.

A single push with both feet sent the stool tumbling. She heard it clatter across the floor. The rope assaulted her before she could draw another breath, and the world spun violently around her. The pain was far greater than she'd imagined. What she'd taken for a defiant epiphany in her final seconds suddenly evaporated in a noxious cloud of terror. Not so ready to die after all, she fought with everything she had, clawing and bucking and kicking. Metal restraints cut into her wrists and ankles. Something ran out of her nose, and she identified it as a mixture of blood and mucus it when it poured over her lips and seeped into her mouth.

Air hissed from Brandy's compressed trachea as she struggled. She tried repeatedly to bring the air back in, but she couldn't. Her chest heaved to no avail, burned in starvation, and the pleasant curiosity that had come over her moments earlier was history.

It was too much. She needed to die before she went insane, and it was a great relief when her limbs grew numb. Her chains suddenly weighed a thousand tons, and she could fight them no longer. Massive stones bound to her arms and legs dragged her down into the watery murk. Maybe it was almost over.

Stubborn awareness stayed with her long enough for an acrid smell to disturb her sputtering olfactory sense. Simultaneously, she felt warm piss running down the insides of her legs.

Her body jerked once or twice, though through no effort of her own. In the distance, the plasma screen through which Moses watched her death had returned to a indecipherable blur of kaleidoscopic color. Then it was black, and she couldn't remember how it had gotten that way. Not just the screen, but everything.

Excited voices stirred somewhere far away. Brandy couldn't understand much, but she sensed something cool on her skin. It touched in various places around her left breast. She strained, tried to turn away, but the chains wouldn't let her.

No, it wasn't even the heavy chains holding her down now. Her body wasn't responding at all.

"Not yet," someone said.

Not yet, she repeated to herself. I'm not....

The thought trailed off unfinished as oblivion claimed her.

When she died a minute later, a Johnny-on-the-spot surgeon cut her belly open even as she continued to hang. Within an hour her bloody, still-shackled body was thrown out the back of an armored van, into a busy Unclean slum street. Multiple fights broke out to determine who would claim the fresh meat, and a prominent gang soon proved victorious. They dragged her corpse into their tent village beneath the crumbling overpass of a bygone era. Come nightfall, Brandy was impaled on a spit after all, coated in butter and slow-roasted over an open flame.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.