Part 6: One More Time

The slavers' compound was built on a spur of land overlooking the sea, which not only provided some nice views but also made for good security. With sheer drops to the crashing waves below on three sides out of four, they'd only had to set up proper guardposts along one short stretch of open ground connecting them to the mainland. The main crew barracks and Captain Vorden's own office had been set up in that gap to make it even harder for anything to slip through unnoticed, and to keep a close eye on the skimmers they were using for their expeditions. After that came the holding cells for the high-value captives, constructed from old freight containers for the most part, and then the general population pens, arranged in a rough half-circle around a large open field.

That was where the shuttles from the transport would land when it was time to leave as well as where new arrivals were first processed, and where the captives could get a little exercise under close watch every day (which served both to help spot any urgent health issues and to provide some entertainment for the men on guard duty).

It was large enough for the camp's entire population of slaves to assemble, even if it would get a little crowded, and that was exactly what was happening. Guards entered one pen after another, dragging their naked inhabitants out into the field. They were lined up in groups of five, made to kneel, then had their hands cuffed behind their backs (with a bit of groping added to the mix if they'd caught the eye of their guards) and the shackles around their ankles attached to a long metal pole linking them together. That way, they not only couldn't run, but they weren't even able to turn away from the spectacle waiting for them. The special stock were also led into the field, twenty-eight virgin cunts looking scared in the bright noon sun. They'd heard the screams, and they knew they'd had something to do with the five would-be escapees.

Captain Vorden had had a brief shower while the field filled up and returned to the yard where they'd spent the morning bright and refreshed. Mousy was still twisting gently in the breeze, her protruding tongue, bulging eyes and oozing cunt starting to attract some of the local insects. He made a mental note to have somebody dispose of the body before it started to smell -fortunately, the cliff provided a convenient way to get rid of waste as well- then turned towards the posts where the five runners were being prepared for their final journey. One of their medics, a man named Yakuv who, for reasons Vorden had decided not to pry into, was no longer allowed to practice medicine in the core worlds, had just finished administering a round of stim shots and life began to return to the condemned. All of them were looking quite a bit worse for wear after their ordeal.

Red was a trembling wreck, flinching and clamping her legs together every time somebody's gaze fell on her.
Beachball's big tits, now covered in ugly welts wobbled as she cried quietly to herself.
Scars was still groaning in pain, and he could see that there was still a thin trickle of blood dripping from her cunt. Kamal's handiwork, he thought and made a note to check with Yakuv if there were any serious injuries. It wouldn't do after all for one of them to die of internal bleeding before the main show could truly get started.
Flappy looked more or less healthy, but her vacant stare betrayed her broken spirit. And Ice…

He felt his cock stirring again as he contemplated the tall blonde. She'd been the most physically fit of the lot from the start and her treatment had been a bit less rough than what the others had got, so it wasn't surprising that she looked quite a bit healthier than they did. What did come as a surprise to Captain Vorden was the effect that had on his stamina. He'd expected to need some stims of his own to get back up again, but there he was, his cock painfully straining against his pants. He checked the time readout. There might be just enough time for one last round with Ice before she took her last walk.

He approached the posts, grinning as Red whimpered, shrank back and tried to make herself look even smaller. The others watched him warily as he strode up to his victim.

Ice started to say something, but he didn't even bother to look at his translator readout. The sight in front of him was far more interesting. She was putting on a brave face, her expression grim and determined, but he could also see her breathing more rapidly, and her eyes betrayed her fear. At the same time her nipples betrayed something else. Damn, this bitch wanted it. Or at least her cunt did, even if her brain didn't. He reached down to her crotch and she immediately tried to clamp her legs shut. Well, if she wanted it rough…
He reached into his back pocket for a little gadget that had saved him a lot of headaches over the years.

The holdout stunner looked a bit like an old-fashioned set of brass knuckles, and in a pinch it would actually work as one, but its main function was another. He brought it around and took aim at her knees, dialing the charge down a bit with the thumb trigger. He didn't want to knock her out or cause lasting damage, after all.

The stunner fired with a barely audible high-pitched whine, and finely tuned sonic waves did their work. Nerves fired at random, already taut muscles cramped up completely and Ice gasped in pain and surprise as her legs gave way under her. She sagged down, held upright only by the rope around her neck, and there was a flash of panic and…something else in her eyes as it momentarily cut off her breath. She struggled desperately, trying to get her cramped legs back under control and making her toned muscles stand out even more from her white skin.

Vorden's pants were getting really uncomfortable now and he struggled out of them quickly. He knew the stunner's effect would only last a little over ten seconds at this setting, and he wasted no time in positioning himself between her suddenly wide-open thighs. Leaning in close, he whispered into her ear.
"Couldn't keep your legs shut, could you slut?"
The effect was slightly spoiled by having to wait for the translator to repeat the line in the cunt's own language, but the way her proud facade shattered told him he'd read her correctly.
Every now and then in this line of work you met a bitch who actually got off on being in somebody else' power, who had fantasies about being raped, bound and helpless. Of course they didn't really want to have those fantasies become reality, not consciously at least, but the effect of reminding them that they'd pawed at their cunts dreaming of this very scenario, that their bodies reacted to it against their will…that was always helpful in breaking them in.

Grinning widely, he thrust in. He'd forgotten about lube, but once again there was no need. Her cunt was almost as wet as it'd been after Cal's treatment and it felt amazing around his cock. She was making these funny little noises with every thrust…part sob and part whimper, and they drove him into a frenzy. He fucked her harder and harder, increasing the pace until her whimpers turned into screams and her spasming cunt walls told him of her climax. He reached his peak moments later and shot his load into her with an involuntary feral roar.
He was still waiting for the flashing lights and dancing spots to fade from his vision when he became aware of somebody clapping.