Chasing Paradise Ch. 06

Chapter 6 - Showcase II

The Hotel Yorotani - Main Exhibition Room (Two Days Before the Hunt)

Amelia stood there, wrists already aching from the cuffs, feeling for all the world like meat on display in the butcher's shop window, only she wasn't ready to be sold by the pound. Mostly the spectators for the showcase stuck to the shadows, occasional puffs on cigars giving glows in the gloom to show where they stood, or quiet chatter hinting where they'd clustered. One or two paraded up and down the rows getting a good look at what they might have ended up paying to hunt; how much they paid must have been astronomical, Amelia thought, if it not only funded the hunt but the bulk of running an entire island resort to boot.

To Amelia's eye there seemed to be no pattern or style these men shared. Some of the men that she could see wore fatigues or hiking clothes, others suits, others just general casual attire. Dotted amongst them were women too, wives, slaves, girlfriends; it was hard for Amelia to tell when the only real lighting in the room was the plinths the girls stood on in their stark illumination; she had glimpses of shadows, or the few people who got close but nothing more.

One group in particular sent a chill down her spine as they approached. They were led by a lean man, slightly balding but with the gait of someone with an alarming turn of speed should they choose to use it. The man sported the kind of tan that said he spent a lot of his time outdoors, but his fashionable modern tieless suit and over-engineered chunky wristwatch said the outdoors was likely not for the professional part of his life. What worried her, though, was not the man as such, but the two women who fell in a pace and a half behind him as they moved from plinth to plinth. Both of them were tall and spectacular specimens of womanhood, platinum blonde hair tied back in tight ponytails, they wore combat trousers, and athletic sleeveless tops that matched their neckbands, and the first signs of age showed in the smallest creases of their otherwise impeccable skin. The particularly worrying part for Amelia was that instead of the normal regulation black these particular women wore the disarming powdery blue neckband of a retired slavecop.

These were women taken in by the BFA's Slavery Enforcement and Fugitive Retrieval unit at 18, usually they were volunteers but some were purchased from good breeding stock, or to break and retrain potential disruptive sluts. They had spent 12 years under the watchful eyes of their Master-Agents hunting, subduing, and recovering whoever the Bureau set them on like vicious guard dogs who rested at the feet of cruel masters. Amelia knew from her own time at the pleasure of the BFA that these girls didn't have it easy though, even while she was being raped senseless there was rarely a time where one of these girls wasn't warming up or finishing off a Master-Agent in the vicinity. The numbers of Slave-Agents were relatively few compared to the overall enslaved population but they were known for their ruthless devotion not only to the regime, but to their Master-Agents. Most Slave-Agents would march through hell and back if it meant that slaves were either returned to their true masters, or handed over to the BFA for more daunting forms of justice.

The man looked her up and down, walking around her. Amelia tried to keep a watchful eye on him as he circled her but the way her arms were suspended, and her ankles restrained there was a point where he was directly behind and out of sight, another way for this humiliation to drum in how weak she was, she thought. His eyes felt cold on her exposed skin, as though he could chill her to the bone with a mere glance; she could feel his gaze creeping over her hips and lower back, pausing for her breasts and neck. Not for the first time she wished her hands were free so at least she could feel like she had something to fend him off with if she needed. She realised it was futile, striking a member of the superior gender carried with it a minimum penalty of six months Community Service, if not instant and very permanent enslavement. She almost chuckled to herself as she remembered the island was largely outside Pussiana's laws, that was the point after all. She suspected that if she did strike him, though, her agreement with TopSlut had some very unpleasant penalty clauses she would never want to trigger.

He circled back around to her front still casting a critical eye over her body.

"Tell me, slut, how are your blowjob skills?" he said, his voice thin, sharp, and deeply unpleasant.

She glared at him. "Depends how deep you want the bite marks."

He snorted gently to himself. "Perhaps if you're going to threaten to bite then maybe a petgirl. A tailplug would suit your slutty little very nicely. Perhaps one with a nice stinging gel coating for extra lubrication." he said, a crooked smile veering into an ugly sneer across his face.

"Just try it and you'll be wearing it yourself" she answered back, desperate to make herself look imposing despite her bonds.

"You'll find your choices are a lot more limited when I put that lovely little black band around your neck. Especially if you want to keep said neck connected to that pretty little head of yours. Hmm, I like you, yes. You'll be a lot of fun to break, hopefully you won't make it too easy." He turned to one of the former slavecops, "Pussyhound, get this one if you can, but don't worry if you can't. 3rd choice so far."

One of the blondes produced a notebook and wrote something before inspecting Amelia herself. "She's in good fitness, toned, shouldn't be too much of a problem. Looks like she's trained for speed and stamina, Glimmerslut and I might need to go for an electroshock to fully immobilise her."

The man nodded as the blonde spoke, cradling his chin as if in thought. "Hmm,yes, fine, just try not to damage her ass too much, doesn't matter about her face, she'll be wearing a muzzle the rest of her life anyway." he replied, watching Amelia for the little spike of rage about where she might find herself.

Amelia's look of fury and the hard pull against her bonds caused a hearty chuckle as he turned away and moved on to the next woman in line. Pussyhound smiled and flipped to a new page of her notes. "Don't worry future slavecunt, with the two of us hunting you you won't even have time to feel it. We just jam a Kokstick at the base of your spine and let the electroshock do the work..." she said, moving in close enough to put an arm behind Amelia, tracing her gloved fingers down Amelia's spine as she said it. "You might not even be conscious again before he can get you to a banding post. Not a chance of you running when you can barely even wiggle your toes."

Amelia looked the woman dead in the eyes, "Why not miss? Let me escape? Lose my trail. That rich asshole could buy any slave he wanted, and all I want is a chance at freedom."

The blonde laughed. "Oh, honey. That's the point. He wants you mad, resisting, and hating him. He gets off on it. Most men don't, but he wants someone who'll hate him as much after a year of whipping as they did on day one. In the end we're the ones getting paid to make sure sluts like you end up wearing a slaveband so me and Glimmerslut have a real incentive to truss you up like a turkey and serve you up for Mr Malavar's enjoyment whenever the fuck he likes"

"Fucking bluepuss, I hope you choke on his dick."

"Well that is part of what I'm paid for, and it's a taste you're going to get intimately familiar with. Oh wait...I remember now...he said he didn't care about damage to your face..." Amelia was unprepared for the meaty palm that impacted on her cheek and made her flush. The sound echoed around the room like a gunshot and she strained at her restraints to get to the former slavecop. She felt all eyes converge on her as she snarled and tried futilely to free a hand or foot to lash out at the blonde but she didn't care, she just wanted to hit that smug perfect slavecop face, wipe that cum-guzzling smirk of hers right away. "Temper temper, darling," said Pussyhound quietly, her words blowing gently into Amelia's ear, "that is unless you want to shoot to the top of a lot more lists..."

The blonde backed up and blew her a mocking kiss then rejoined the man she'd identified as Mr Malavar at the next stand.

Amelia was angry now, her blood was boiling and her face stung. She wanted nothing more than to kick the shit out of the bluepuss who'd slapped her, even if she knew the likely outcome would be her pinned to the ground at the mercy of that smug self-righteous piece of work.

Once the excitement in the room of the slap had died down she was surveyed by more of the hunters. Several ran their hand along the line of her hips, squeezed her breasts, several leant in and smelled her. She was becoming more tired and agitated with each passing moment. Her arms were cramping enough to cause grunts of frustration, and with her legs pinned in an odd position by the ankle restraints, she had no real support of any kind, especially as the odd spring-loaded saddle piece between her thighs seemed to take no weight at all. Not for the first time she wondered why it was there given all it seemed to do was closely follow her crotch and, she supposed, block access to her pussy.

As she stood there hoping it would be over soon she was approached by a couple. The woman's long whip-like braid and red eyes made her stand out, as did her bare neck.

"Ooh, Dickie, this one looks positively gorgeous. She's already tried to break free at least once too. Maybe we should make a dash for her?" Amelia could see something predatory in the woman's toothy smile, something hungry, but when the woman's eyes turned to the man who tailed slightly behind her called Dickie there was something else there in her face, though Amelia didn't know what.

"You know, Dickie, I think she'd really suit a good tight armbinder with your cock up her arse", the woman cradled Amelia's chin as she said this, inspecting her for something. Amelia pulled herself away as best she could with a jerk of her head. Her posture collar made this painful but not impossible, and she kept her eyes locked on the woman. "Feisty little slut.", she said, "Just perfect, that flash of anger. You're going to squeal so much, and I'm going to be right there with you making sure Dickie's kept entertained."

"I'm not yours, or anyone else's entertainment." snarled Amelia.

"Oh my dear, but you are." Amelia watched the woman touch the keypad next to the plinth she was on, and suddenly she felt vibration stirring the saddle piece that pushed up between her thighs. "We all are in the end. Even if all you do is run and give us a good chase you're entertainment enough. I learned that, and you will too."

Amelia tried to manoeuvre herself away from the vibrations, but with her ankles restrained, and with the spring loaded nature of the saddle there was no getting away from it. A bead of cold sweat dribbled down the back of her neck as she gasped the smallest amount.

The woman went on, "You see four years ago I was where you are now. Strung up, on view, so full of fire, so full of hate. It burned me up inside. I wanted a chance to just be myself. My friends were all slaves, so was my older sister...we got to see her of course, she was only sold next door, but she was forbidden from talking to me, or looking at me. I tried anyway, of course. She was left outside every night in a kennel, naked, shivering...crying. Now I think back to it we were both pathetic. She could have embraced her role as a slave...and I could have pushed her to instead of connecting her back to her bareneck life, somewhere she could never return even if she wanted."

Amelia's jaw hung a little slack now, her breathing heavier. She didn't want to admit it but the sheer pulsing power between her legs felt amazing. She summoned up an effort of will to talk, "If you think your little story earns you any sympathy...oh god...fuck...yes...ohh...then I assure you you are very much mistaken, bitch."

"Oh I don't need sympathy from a common slut like you, I just want your poor broken mind to understand something. It's how I ended up here, the only difference between what I did, and what's going to happen to you you little slut is that I managed to make it to the end and win my freedom, but not before catching Dickie's eye, of course." The woman turned and smiled at Dickie once more, and once more Amelia caught a flash of some buried emotion behind the surface.

Amelia watched as the man puffed on a cigar before snaking an arm around the woman's neck, his other hand violently tugging her tight trousers and underwear down to her knees, his eyes locked on Amelia's. "Oh god, yes, Dickie, use me...I want this slut to see you break me." The woman demurely locked her arms at the base of her back and shuddered as he slid in between her already dripping lips. Fully surrendered, and with his flesh slapping her ass she turned back to Amelia and spoke to her once more, "Yes, slut, oh....fuck yes...I caught his eye. Ahhh. He came so close to catching me. He found me once I arrived back at my home, freedom pass in hand and made me an offer. Once my pass was up ....fuck...yes my husband...break me like an animal..." at this man yanked her braid, cruelly twisting it and the woman yelped, a yelp that only made him fuck her harder as her eyes rolled and her teeth gritted in a grimace the bordered the line between agony and deep sexual arousal.

The man removed his grip from the woman's neck and used that hand to place the cigar he was smoking lengthways across the woman's mouth, effectively gagging her unless she dropped it while he continued to fuck her in huge driving thrusts that bent her neck back to painful angles due to his hold on her braid. "What my wife is trying to say is that I saw good potential fuckmeat in her. I asked her to compete in the hunt once more. Either I was going to capture her and turn her into a perfect defiant painslut, or she would win, and I would guarantee her freedom as my wife. Either way she'd be mine, and willing or not I'd fuck her sweet tight body whenever I wanted, it was win-win for both of us."

Amelia looked at the woman, her hair wrenched, her hands clasped, the cigar clenched lightly between her teeth in an attempt to not damage it, cute whimpering noises emerging from her as she was fucked hard. For a second Amelia did wish the cock was inside her, not the arrogant bitch in front of her. She bit her lip as it trembled at the thought. She didn't know what was happening, it seemed like something had banished all her thoughts from her rape at the hands of the BFA.....she fought to regain her composure as the vibration now seemed to be pulsing stronger against her clit. "Fuck....oh....fuck....It seems....fuck....it seems to me that being your wife is just being another kind of slave."

"Now that's unfair. Slaves expect to be fucked every day, and plead for their lives...Jacinda expects to live every day and pleads for her fucking at every turn. Either way she managed to evade me a second time here, and now she gets to enjoy all the benefits that only the very richest can have, and that includes coming here to help me track and catch wayward little sluts like you."

Amelia could feel she was close now. Both her knees had buckled and she was dangling from her wrists, her breathing heavy. As she watched the man and woman went in and out of focus, a thin line of drool dropped from her lips as she let out a keening whine under her breath.

"See, darling, this little slut's almost gone now." Dickie continued, "I'm almost done too. Let's give her something to remember while she's trying to run, eh?" With that he retrieved his cigar, let go of the braid, and began to squeeze Jacinda's throat with his free hand, pulling her back towards his body, his thrusts now forcing her up onto tiptoes. It was subtle at first. Jacinda was already flushed from her fucking, after all. Soon she began to gulp for air, veins standing out on her head and neck, eyes bulging. Her hands were still placed firmly behind her back as a sign of acceptance, as sure as thick iron manacles secured them there. Dickie's pace increased, driving whatever air was in Jacinda out of her. Her heels scraped on the floor as she lost her balance and the grip around her neck tightened. Her eyes bulged more, and for the first time her hands began to move. They moved hesitantly to the arm around her throat, not to remove it, but to try and apply counterpressure.

Amelia could see now from his face that Dickie was in his own world, as close to coming as she was. Her thighs squirmed on the saddle and she felt very definite trickles down each thigh. Looking into Jacinda's face she saw something more clearly now, that thing she'd seen flashes of. Not fear, not acceptance, something more powerful, a deep and strong will to survive. She managed to scrabble upright for a second and catch a breath before a gentle squeeze from Dickie saw her once more gasping for air that simply was not going to come.

"And now," he said, "I think Jacinda's about to get what she deserves."

With a grunt and a shudder it was very clear that Jacinda was being filled with her husband's seed. Slowly the hand at her throat relaxed and she sucked in lungfuls of air like a drowning woman finally reaching the surface. "Thank you my beloved...I am grateful for your gift, and your mercy."

"Do not be too quick to judge my mercy." he replied, clamping his hand over her mouth and using the other to apply the glowing end of his cigar to her clit. Jacinda screamed behind his hand, tears in her eyes as they rolled back. "You wanted me to demonstrate what this little slut could expect darling? Well now she knows. She would be a painslut. Fuckmeat like all slaves, yes, but one subjected to exceptionally cruel and butal punishment." He removed the cigar, and the hand over Jacinda's mouth.

"Thank you husband. But if you want to get me off properly you're going to have to hurt me a lot more than that."

Amelia watched as he laughed and planted a deep gentle kiss on Jacinda while her body quivered in his arms. Amelia strained at her cuffs involuntarily, like something was pushing her to join them, open mouthed, drooling, tongue stuck out as if she could taste them in the air. Dickie smiled as he saw this, and moved a free hand to Jacinda's pussy, gently fingering out some cum from between her slick and puffy lips. It was the work of a moment for him to steady Jacinda's head with one hand, and slap her with the cum covered one. Her face was reddened now, and dripping with her juices and his seed. He looked Amelia dead in the eyes as he made his wife lick and suck his fingers clean.

"Well, little whore," he said to Amelia, "I think you can see I've more work to do on pussy I already own. But I do look forward to treating you to some delightfully intricate torture at some later date. I do hope you've got a good scream or two in you, I'd hate for you to be boring." Looking pleased with himself he grabbed Jacinda by the braid and dragged her back out of the exhibition room and towards their suite. From his leaving it took only moments for the saddle's vibrations finally end Amelia's struggles. By the end of the showcase she hung there limply, passed out, suspended by her wrists, the saddle still pulsing and pushing as her juices poured down its sides and produced a small puddle on her plinth.