Bargaining for survival Pt. 02

This will make more sense and be more believable if you read part 1 first. Also, the warnings about the non-consensual nature of part 1 of this story are valid here too, although the power dynamics change somewhat as the story progresses. I hope you enjoy it (especially you, 'Scarlett'!)

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Scarlett couldn't suppress the glow of pride she felt as she realised she had passed the initiation. In the back of her mind she also realised with a rush of relief that the archer couldn't have been one of the men involved in the gangbang she had just been subjected to. For one thing she would have known immediately if a cock as big as his had been inside any of her holes. For another thing his cock was still rock hard.

I can hardly blame him, Scarlett thought with a flutter in her stomach as she looked at herself. Her body was covered from head to toe in strangers' cum. Part of her craved the feeling of being clean, just as she had felt for the first time in a month last night. But part of her relished the depravity of having cum dribbling down her legs, across her stomach, into the cleft of her pussy lips, from deep inside her ass. And she knew enough to know that the sight of this would be having a powerful effect on the archer.

He could take me right now. And I'd let him. He has proven he has complete control over my body. Why doesn't he force me to fuck him? This restraint on the part of the archer was deeply sexy. He clearly wanted her body badly and yet he was holding himself back.

Scarlett found herself unable to deny the conflict in her feelings about the archer. The part of Scarlett that still saw the world as it had been a month ago remained outraged at his callous demands for her subjugation and sexual slavery. There was no way she could deny that what he had demanded of her in exchange for entry to Newdawn was utterly wrong. She knew she should refuse to consider him in any other light.

And yet this ever-more persistent voice in her head told a different story; one that she found increasingly hard to ignore:

I was starving, dehydrated and sunburnt yesterday. Today I am fed and watered and have a prospect of protection.

And if it wasn't for the archer I would have been brutally raped. He fought for me, both amongst his community and against the rapists.

The power of his presence protected me whilst I slept, even against this community of predatory, pussy-starved men.

It was my choice to participate in the initiation.

At this point, pre-apocalypse Scarlett interjected angrily into her self-talk:I had NO choice. I was forced to endure repeatedly being raped. I would have died otherwise.

As Scarlett continued arguing with herself internally, the archer stared at her. Unashamedly. She felt her cheeks grow hot as his intense gaze swept slowly down over her face and neck, lingering on her beautifully proportioned breasts topped by nipples that remained painfully erect as cum dripped from them.

Just as Scarlett was about to shout in protest at his staring, the archer's gaze continued to sweep down her body over her glistening skin and to her neatly trimmed pussy overflowing with multiple unknown sources of cum as well as her own juices. Once again he stared unashamedly at her wanton nakedness for longer than she felt she could possibly bear.

Yet something kept Scarlett from protesting. Reluctantly she admitted to herself that she wanted to reward the archer for his protection, and so she forced herself to stand, exposed and humiliated, as he drank his fill.

Scarlett wasn't a neutral part of this deeply erotic exchange either. Fighting and losing an internal battle, she kept finding herself stealing lingering glances at the archer's rock-hard cock. She had seen it up close the day before yet looking at it felt like an addiction; when she put all her effort into looking away she was able to, but then she would find her gaze returning automatically to the angry, purple head and oh-so-thick shaft. She'd then catch herself, berating herself internally and looking away once more. And so the cycle continued.

The archer undoubtedly noticed the direction of Scarlett's gaze but showed no indication of his awareness. Instead, once he finally looked away from her swollen pussy lips, he caught her eye and indicated she should follow him.

"It's time we discussed the conditions of your ongoing presence in Newdawn.

"Everyone who joins us must sign a contract offering up their skills and services into a communal pool for others to make use of as needed.

"We have no currency in Newdawn. Instead, you must offer a contracted level of service to qualify for continued membership of the community. You are then free to make bargains with individual members of the community for any non-communal goods or services they can offer."

Scarlett nodded numbly. After her initiation, the archer didn't need to spell out what services she would be expected to offer. She buried the thought for now, not least because she felt a thoroughly confusing conflict of emotions at the thought of being contracted to provide such services.

As the archer was talking they had been walking towards a large hut near the centre of the island. Scarlett gathered the clothes that had fallen out of the drone as they walked. Desperate to cover herself, she nevertheless resisted because she craved the cleanliness of the new clothing and was still drenched in rapidly drying cum.

They entered the hut to find a group of 11 men sitting around a large table, and an empty twelfth chair. Scarlett saw cuts and bruises on the faces and torsos of four of the men; each of them was scowling at her. She guessed that these were some of the men the archer had had to fight in order to save her from her would-be rapists; an involuntary glow of thankfulness and raw, potent-as-fuck desire hit her (desire?! For that monster? What the actual fuck?! she thought to herself).

The archer directed her towards the empty chair and the hand-written sheet of paper in front of it. Scarlett sat down and drew the paper towards her. Her pulse raced as she read the short contract:

-------Service contract between Scarlett and Newdawn community-------

To continue qualifying for protection and sustenance from the Newdawn community I, Scarlett, agree to provide the following services:

1. I waive all rights to my body to Henrik. He can direct me to fuck any member of the Newdawn community between 0800 and 2200 each day. Should multiple members of the community wish to fuck me at the same time, with Henrik's approval I will accommodate them simultaneously. Should disagreements arise over which members of the community have access to my body Henrik will mediate, with his word being final.

2. In recognition of his prominent role in bringing me to the community and my ongoing protection, I cede to Henrik all rights over my body and sexual pleasure at all times, day or night.

3. I will closely monitor my fertility cycle and inform Henrik. Three days either side of my estimated peak fertility, I will enthusiastically encourage Henrik to direct as many members of the community as possible to fill my pussy with their cum, seeking to ensure I am impregnated at the earliest opportunity.

I defer all judgement over my satisfactory completion of these services to Henrik. If he determines that I am insufficiently willing or enthusiastic, I agree that he is permitted to take further measures such as (but not limited to): restraining me in public for a specific period of time to enable unfettered access to my body.

The surge of adrenalin that Scarlett felt as she read the text twice through caused her hands to shake. She recognised quickly that the archer was Henrik and that, if she signed this, her body would become a commodity for him to trade as he wished.

A month ago she would have laughed off such a contract, not believing that anyone would have the audacity to write such a text.

A week ago she would have had a vague terror that things might reach this stage eventually, but would have held out hope that men who had so recently lived in a rule-based society would baulk at wielding power in such a debasing and immoral way.

24 hours ago she would have ripped the text up, spat in the face of the man diirecting her to sign it and refused to even contemplate putting her name to it regardless of the consequences.

But as she was desperately playing for time and watching her thoughts spin at 100 miles per hour, one clear idea stuck in her mind. Fight as she did, she couldn't dislodge it:

24 hours ago I would have refused to sign because the world around me would have considered it horrific. I would not have been able to admit that there is a part of me that wants to sign that document right now.

Not because it is my route to survival. Not because I have no choice. But because the thought of Henrik owning me excites me.

Fuck, I am sick in the head. Can I really even think what I just thought?

As this internal battle raged within Scarlett's head, her resilience came to the fore once more:

If I am to survive, I need to think clearly. There's no space for denial, or bullshit. Long-term, Newdawn is my only chance. I need to make it work to my advantage.

I want this. That is so hard to admit, but admit it I must. I want Henrik to own me, to fuck me, and to direct me to fuck anyone he wishes me to. If I am forced to sign this, I don't need to pretend any more that I want to be empowered and to make choices over my body. I can hand those choices to someone else.

Fuck me, I'm wet. I need to listen to my body.

With that thought and before Scarlett could allow the part of her mind that was screaming at her in outraged protest at her actions, she picked up the pen and signed her name with a shaky hand.

Henrik's response was immediate. Lifting her effortlessly out of the chair, he bent her over the table and kicked her legs apart. He swiftly tied each leg to a leg of the table so that her pussy was stretched open and on display.

This action had clearly been pre-planned, because by the time Henrik had secured her ankles, another council member had stroked two fingers the length of her pussy.

"She's wet and ready," he announced with some surprise. "Can we proceed?"

The council member looked to Henrik for approval. Henrik had an inscrutable look on his face and, after a moment, gave a single nod.

With no warning, Scarlett felt a new cock part her pussy lips and thrust forcefully deep inside her. The battle she had been waging in her mind was won completely by the wanton slut fighting to get out of her. By way of encouragement, she thrust her hips back to meet the stranger's forward motion.

The man took this as the invitation it was and pummelled her pussy. Scarlett vaguely recognised the uncomfortable feeling of her body banging forcefully against the table; this feeling was interrupting her descent into pure animalistic lust.

A few seconds later she felt a second pair of hands lifting her hips and a brief pause in the intensity of thrusting. Confused, she looked up to see Henrik easing a pillow between her hips and the table. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind she registered surprise that he was not only aware of her discomfort, but that he had taken steps to relieve it.

Her surprise was pushed to one side by delicious sensations as the stranger in her pussy restarted his thrusting. With a deep well of grateful contentment, she noticed that Henrik's pillow had cushioned any discomfort coming from the table, and she wantonly thrust back against the unknown cock to invite its owner to go harder still.

The man's thrusts were brutal. Just as she wanted them. Every time he thrust his hips at hers, she felt her pussy rammed full with such force that she was thrown forwards into the table. She felt like a piece of meat, albeit one with bolts of electricity shooting out from her pussy to the tips of her fingers and toes every time the head of his cock rammed home.

Scarlett was lost in a world of sensation, and gave herself up to it utterly. Like a ragdoll, she was thrown against the table again and again. The stranger in her pussy was roaring with exertion, and with a final forceful thrust she felt his cock pump cum deep into her pussy.

She felt a deep sense of joy at allowing her inner slut to take over and she screamed as a collosal orgasm hit her just as she felt the warm cum pump deep into her. She eagerly anticipated the next cock, assuming (and hoping) that every member of the council would take their turn with her.

In this she wasn't disappointed. Over the next hour and a half Scarlett eagerly took 11 strange cocks into her pussy, fucking them with relish and encouraging 11 different sources of cum to fill her already overflowing hole. She came again and again, losing count of her own climaxes even as she counted the 11 strangers with glowing pride. She felt free (Ironic, given I have just signed up to be a sex slave she thought wryly), uninhibited and joyful at finally giving up the battle against her wanton sexuality.

She noticed with satisfaction that the four cut and bruised men who she had spotted when she first walked in also took their turns. I bet they're happy enough to have me in Newdawn now she thought to herself, smiling with satisfaction that she had broken through their resistance.

But Scarlett also noticed that Henrik did not take a turn with her. Instead, he directed proceedings, picking council members in turn to violate her. Why doesn't he fuck me? she thought to herself.

With shock, she found herself craving the idea of him forcing himself upon her. She had always had a vivid imagination, and as she was being pummelled by the other council members she let her mind picture his enormous girth stretching her pussy in every direction, sharpening all the sensations that she was feeling with the other cocks inside her.

Somehow she knew that she couldn't just beg him for his cock; that her value in Newdawn came in part because she was an unwilling participant (Or at least I appear to be unwilling she corrected herself).

Instead of fucking her, Henrik gently eased her restraints, lifting her and her clothes effortlessly into his arms and carrying her to his hut.

Aha, he wants me alone she thought, with a jolt of nervous anticipation. And yet when they arrived at his hut Henrik deposited her clothes on his table and returned from the rear of the hut carrying a bucket, a sponge and some soap.

He proceeded to slowly, gently and thoroughly sponge Scarlett down. The gentle, patient side of this man confused Scarlett even further. The archer, as she had known him then, had callously humiliated her and had shown utter contempt for her attempts to negotiate her way into Newdawn.

Yet Henrik, as she knew him now, seemed the only person with any humanity inside Newdawn. He had fought for her to be allowed into the community. Both when she had been forced to show visible evidence of strangers' cum for her initiation, and when she had become a fucktoy for the council, Henrik could have taken her (and she would have fallen on his huge cock with raw desire). Yet still he held back. Why?

And that cock of his! Scarlett thought back to when she first saw it over the walls of Newdawn, and the horror she felt. No, she said to herself. I promised myself honesty. When I first saw the archer's cock I felt trepidation. But I also felt a deep aching need for it. A deep desire for the archer's power to overcome the resistance I felt I should show. I shouldn't deny that.

As her view of Henrik's personality and ethics became mired in confusion, her view of his cock became more certain. I want it she allowed her brain to confirm what she already knew in her groin. I want to feel that huge girth stretch my lips until it is almost painful. I want to feel every texture of his skin and viens slipping and sliding against my pussy walls. I want to feel him all the way inside me, buried to the hilt. And then I want him to fuck me. Hard and rough. I want to feel what it is like for my pussy to be battered by a cock that size and that delicious.

As Scarlett at last allowed her inner slut unfettered control of her thoughts, she felt her pulse racing and her skin grow hot. Her pussy was on fire, aching for punishment, touch, anything. She felt herself on a knife edge; she had never come close to cumming without persistent rhythym and touch, but now she felt as if a dam was about to burst inside her.

Just then, Henrik's patient sponging reached her outer pussy lips. As he swept the sponge upwards, it touched and then scraped lightly against her clit.

Scarlett exploded.

There was no way she could hide the impact of his touch on her body; not with his face inches from her pussy. As her hips bucked and she groaned in release, Henrik's eyes snapped up to hers with surprise, and the unmistakable hooded look of masculine desire. Deep in the middle of a massive orgasm, she had very little capacity for rational thought. But emotionally the connection was instant; as their eyes locked she knew that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Anticipating getting the fucking that she so desperately desired, Scarlett lay back on Henrik's bed, closed her eyes and opened her legs in seductive invitation, waiting to be filled.

And waited. And waited. When it became too much for her to bear, she opened her eyes and looked back at Henrik.

He was gazing at her pussy with an intensity that brought her close to another orgasm.

She insinctively looked away in self-consciousness. But her curiosity overcame her and she looked again. He was still gazing, staring even.

He wasn't moving his eyes; either oblivious to her hot, desire-laden look, or simply ignoring it. He had no shame, and no self-conciousness about drinking in the sight of her pussy openly in this way.

If Scarlett hadn't been sure of Henrik's desire from the way he was gazing at her, his raging hard on would have confirmed everything. If anything it had grown even more since she had last seen it. It looked utterly rock-solid and pre-cum was oozing freely from the tip. It took all of Scarlett's willpower not to lick the tip in order to taste his cum.

After what seemed like an eternity of unbearable sexual tension, she heard a gruff "fuck" as he turned away and walked to another corner of the hut. What is he waiting for? she wondered for what felt like the tenth time today, each time more laden with sexual tension and need for release. But not from anyone (goodness knows she'd had enough of that to last a lifetime, or at least a couple of weeks). No; Henrik was taking up ever more space in her mind. She wanted, she needed release from his cock pummelling her pussy.

"You should sleep. You must be exhausted."

Whaaaat? Her mind reeled. There's no way I could sleep with this tension around. Nor can he, surely? But aloud, she simply nodded and made to move from the bed to one of the corners of the hut.

"What do you think I am? An animal?" Henrik seemed offended by her movement. "You sleep here, on the bed. There is room for both of us."

Utterly confused, and rampantly horny, Scarlett lay back on the bed, and felt the muscle-bound bulk of Henrik's body drop down beside her. She felt as though the air between their bodies was charged with electricity and was utterly convinced that she would lie awake all night.

Nevertheless, after both of them tossed and turned for what felt like hours, she drifted into a fitful and dream-laden sleep.

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