Chasing Paradise Ch. 08

Chapter 8 - Free Time I

The Hotel Yorotani - Runner Section (Two Days Before the Hunt)

As soon as she was through the door Pippa frantically removed the cuffs from her wrists and ankles before flopping onto the bed, she didn't even bother turning on the light. She kicked off the hated black patent leather heels, and lay there, tears of anger welling in her eyes.

The entire time out of the room she'd stayed as stone faced as she could, emotionless, unyielding in the face of the fate that might await her. The handlers, she thought, might as well have roped the women neck to neck to give the full impression of them being cattle fattened up and driven to auction. She knew this was part of the deal but she'd never felt so degraded in her whole life.

Pippa knew it was part of the order of things. Most of her family's income over the years had come from the sale of her seven older sisters. She'd had to watch from an early age as each one went through the same thing. One day each of her sisters' smiles began to fade, their makeup and clothing changed, strange men had visited the house, and then after a teary goodbye she barely understood the first few times she never saw them again. Some had begged to take office jobs, pay their freedom fees, help support the family; every single one was denied. It tore her up inside how the family had all had to sit there as their father had updated them on the latest bids, the sister whose time it was almost a prisoner in the house until the price on her head was finalised..

The first time she saw one of her sisters led away leashed, naked, and in tears she'd resolved that this would not happen to her. She could still remember the last one to go vividly, it was Mandy, her sweet older sister Mandy. There was only a year between them, they'd grown up together, and counting down the days until the day she was torn away from Pippa had left a hole in her heart she knew she might never fill. The two had looked so alike that some thought them twins, and watching Mandy be led away while her new owner talked about how much she'd love the Whoresie ranch chilled her blood. She'd do whatever she could to avoid feeling the choking unforgiving feel of slaveband locking around her slender neck that would damn her to slavery for as long as her masters allowed her to live.

She'd seen an advert for the Yorotani online and had tried to find as much info as she could, but what she could find was limited. She managed to find out women had won their freedom here, at least for a while, and that there were strict policies in place that limited the chances of any major injuries. Beyond these facts, though? The whole thing was pretty much shrouded in mystery. She needed her father's permission to leave, though, and she thought this might be a barrier. One phonecall with the organisers was all it took. The compensation for a CMR if she was one of the women who made it out here was more than generous, and he'd been very happy to see her go in the end.

One thing that Pippa knew for certain, though, was that failure meant leaving here in chains, physical or metaphorical. She subconsciously raised her hand to her throat and felt her neck. She knew why men had chosen there for the icon of modern slavery. It was vulnerable, visible, and made it look so much like they were choking the life out of women. She knew speaking her mind meant death or worse. The penalty for being a member of the Female Liberation Front, a "Fluffer" was beyond cruel. Some were hanged publicly, televised with laugh tracks or applause, they were lucky, those who were less lucky found their way to the slave fairs. Some were banded and simply thrown to the mob, either living or not through a violent orgy, others were auctioned for a pittance to whoever happened to be nearest, the usual slave collar accompanied by a micro explosive implanted at the base of the skull.

She lay there in the darkness, a cool breeze blowing in from the sea through the open door to the small balcony. Slowly she began to realise with concern she was not alone in the room. She could hear quiet breathing. Just on the edge of hearing. It was coming from the side of the room nearest the door. She knew there was a lamp beside the bed, slowly she rolled over, as if getting comfy, she used the pillow to mask the movement of her arm as she pressed it ever so gently towards where she remembered the lamp being.

It didn't take long for her to find the switch on the flex, her hand hovering slightly over it. She took a breath, prepared herself for movement and turned on the lamp, shining it towards where the noise was coming from. It took a second to realise the figure wasn't standing, but kneeling, head lowered, one shoulder against the wall. The light startled the figure, and they jolted awake.

"This cunt apologises! Please! This cunt had no intention of....falling....asleep...", the slavegirl shielded her eyes from the light and Pippa rapidly stopped aiming it at her face.

"For fuck's sake, Cockslurp, you timid little cunt, you scared me half to death!"

"This cunt apologises, Mistress, it offers its apologies, and will report for extra discipline as soon as it can."

"...why the fuck are you still here? I thought you'd have gone once the showcase was over."

"This cunt once more apologises, it obviously failed to make things clear. Until the prey are loaded onto the bus each is assigned a personal cunt for whatever use they see fit."

"So you'd jump out of the window if I told you to?"

"No, Mistress, that would countermand orders given by a male, this cunt is not permitted."

"...so what orders DO you have?"

"This cunt may not by action or inaction allow itself to come to mortal harm unless doing so denies a male's will. Except when accompanied by a Handler this cunt must accompany its assigned slut, except where this conflicts with the first order. This cunt must serve all requirements of its assigned slut implicit and explicit except where this would break the first or second orders."

"That doesn't leave a lot of wiggle room. I suppose you're used to the lack of free will."

The slave looked puzzled. "This cunt has served on Yorotani Island for six years. It does not exercise free will or it would have been discarded."

"Discarded?"

"Any cunt who proves themselves to no longer willing to be of use is taken on one of the sea excursions arranged for guests, towed behind the boat on a long rope. Either the cunt reels themself back in for the entertainment of the guests or..."

Pippa knew what the or was. It didn't take a genius to work out what the alternative was in the warm waters that surrounded a paradise island like this. Far to the West were the Yamatese islands, and their deeper waters were known for their dangers. Clearing her mind of the terrible fate of one too many slaves Pippa looked at the woman a little more closely. She was clearly tired, bleary eyed, and knelt as far as she could into the corner of the room. She realised what she was doing....trying to stay out of the way, to be unseen, to be almost like furniture until needed, only to be dragged out, used and put back. There was no fixing or saving her, the neckband said as much. Would it be cruel, she thought, to try and make her time a little less awful? Would a few moments of kindness make the pain of business as usual worse?

Cockslurp was, no doubt, beautiful. Slender but tall for a slave, and with small breasts by Pussiana standards as they were slightly less voluminous than an average sized bowling ball, and more like large grapefruit. She had long black hair, run through with blue dye to match her crystal blue eyes; no doubt, Pippa thought, the dye was there to make her somehow more exotic, more interesting, more easily consumable fuckmeat to satiate the appetites of the men who frequented the hotel.

"Look," said Pippa, "You can't possibly be comfortable down there. This is a double bed so...just...lie on the part I'm not on." Suddenly Pippa realised she was still wearing the lingerie she had attended the showcase in and blushed. "Is there anything I can wear other than...well....this?"

"This cunt can order sleepwear from the screen for you, Mistress, is there anything in particular?"

"Just...some pyjamas. In fact, get yourself some too." said Pippa, a playful smile crossing her lips as she said it.

"This cunt apologises, Mistress, but it is forbidden from wearing clothes unless..."

"Unless ordered to? Then I order you to get yourself something comfortable, and get some sleep because just looking at you makes me feel tired." said Pippa, and she meant it. Cockslurp had that same perennially tired look of most well-used slaves.

Cockslurp moved over to the panel and began to order things. Pippa couldn't ignore the ballerina's grace in her movements, an ebb and flow as she moved. She'd had dreams for months about her impending enslavement, the ticking clock above her head. Sometimes cruel masters, sometimes kind, but sometimes in her dreams she served a Master's wife. It still terrified her, but too many of those dreams had her on all fours, her head caught in the crook of a sitting woman's leg, gently lapping between her thighs. It didn't feel so bad in the dream but she woke up in a cold sweat hating herself nonetheless, and wondering where her mind had dredged the images from.

Pippa did not want to serve, it was her fear, her nightmare, but sometimes she looked at slavegirls with hungry eyes, wanting to touch them, taste them, feel them. She gazed lazily at Cockslurp's prominent pert backside for a moment too long before freeing her attention from its hypnotic grasp. Pippa mulled for a second before formulating a question. "Cockslurp, what's the difference between serving a man and a woman?"

Cockslurp turned and pondered for a second, having finished the order, before returning to her normal kneeling submissive pose. "Well, Mistress, Men know what they want. They are the superior gender, the decision makers. If they see something they take it, or order for it to be done. If they see a slave with a rear that entices them then she will be ass-raped until he is finished. Usually when used by a male this cunt is a masturbation aid. Held down, pushed, pulled, bent into a new and different shapes, then filled with cum." She paused, as if considering further. Pippa knew what she'd said so far was not a million miles off something that could be seen as criticising or lessening the superior gender. Both were crimes carrying severe punishments, and severe punishments for slavegirls were far harsher than those for barenecks. Cockslurp finished her consideration, "When used by a female there are two kinds. The first treats this cunt more harshly than the males either to impress a male, or to reassure herself she is superior to this cunt. This cunt is an owned thing and thus inferior to all barenecks; while it is their right to punish or use this cunt in any way their superiority is already evident. The second kind try to pleasure this cunt..."

Pippa caught a slightly odd tone here. Something was off, and she couldn't see what. "You say that like it's a bad thing..."

The slave winced slightly, as if caught doing something, a verbal and facial flinch. "This cunt meant no offence. This cunt is meant to be used. It will be punished for experiencing pleasure unless given explicit permission by its abuser.

"So...if I was to eat you out, and not tell you to cum but you did..."

"This cunt would be whipped twice as hard as normal."

A knock came at the door, and Pippa went to answer. At first she saw nothing before looking down to find a slave prostrate in front of her, arms outstretched, a box sitting atop them. Pippa picked up the box and noted the manacles binding her wrists. "Thank you." she said, but the slave gave no reaction. Awkwardly Pippa shut the door and moved to the bed. The box looked like the sort a fancy department store might ship more expensive slave bindings in, but opening it up revealed two pairs of short pyjamas in yellow and pink pastel colours. She chose the yellow for herself and deposited the pink in front of Cockslurp "Here, a rare treat."

She watched as Cockslurp thumbed the material, dampness rimming her eyes. She watched as the slave stood and pulled the shorts up, her eyes following the contours of those shapely legs, then flicking up to watch Cockslurps breasts as she stretched up her arms to put on the t-shirt. She blushed. Her mouth watered. She stood and wandered over to Cockslurp, leaving the pyjamas behind her on the bed, padding her stockinged feed towards her. A smile briefly touched Cockslurp's face and Pippa smiled back. Something within her almost growled in a predatory way. She wanted something, but she didn't know what.

Pippa circled around behind Cockslurp and something came over her. She stepped in close, and began kissing Cockslurp's neck, her hand reaching around the slave and under her t-shirt to fondle her breasts. They felt as good as they looked, and she toyed with one of the nipples as Cockslurp squeaked slightly in front of her.

"If I have to serve men the rest of my life Cockslurp, then tonight I want to fuck on my terms. Can you do that Cockslurp? I want to feel as good as men feel when they rape you."

"Yes, Mistress." replied the slave. The sound was somehow sweet in Pippa's ears for once.

Pippa grabbed Cockslurp by the hair and forced her to her knees. There was a flash of a quick thrill in this, doing something so masculine, so different, so unlike her. She knew Cockslurp was someone's daughter, maybe even a sister but here and now she didn't care. She wasn't her sister, she was just something she had power over, and something she'd been given to use or abuse as she saw fit. For a moment she could see why men wanted this power, this control, none of Cockslurps own desires mattered, only Pippa's desires to degrade her.

Her grip tightened on the slave's hair as she moved the slave's face towards the black lacey panties that covered her crotch. Cockslurp's tongue jutted out in order to serve. Something came over Pippa and she slapped the slave as hard as she could, feeling the hair strain in her fist. To see Pippa in that moment would be to see a woman with a visible flash of the lust for power in her eyes, tinged with motes of darkness. "No, cunt. Remove the panties before you begin licking. Don't forget to shackle yourself too."

Quietly, meekly Cockslurp adjusted her position to a more formal kneel, wrists crossed at the base of her back as if tied. Slowly she moved forwards to remove Pippa's panties, careful not to move too fast for the short leash Pippa now kept on her hair. With practised ease and a gentle tug with her teeth the panties were on their way to the floor. A string of kisses to her inner thigh accompanied the gently falling panties and these sent a shiver of weakness to Pippa's knees. For an instant a tiny pang of guilt whispered through Pippa's mind. She was fighting to avoid the fate this woman was suffering, images of her sisters bidding teary farewells flashed across her brain but all were washed away by the gentle lapping of an insistent tongue as it followed the folds and ridges deep between her thighs. She took another handful of Cockslurp's hair and stepped forward, forcing the slave's head back slightly so she could look into those glittering blue eyes as the wet slurping below began to drive her mad.

She hadn't known what to expect. Lust, fear, anger, pleasure...there was nothing. Cockslurp's eyes said nothing to her, like this was just another task she had to complete. Pippa knew she was prone to outbursts, to anger, she still regretted snapping at that Veshyan girl on the plane but something about this made her blood boil. She had been untouched, unspoiled, and this cunt dared not to luxuriate in her, to let her see something in those eyes that fired her. Pippa wanted to see unbridled, hungry passion to consume her, fear that she might yet harm this poor innocent girl, a deep seated rage at the torment. But there was nothing. Eyes that should have glittered with emotion sat cold and dead, taunting her.

Once more Pippa wrenched the slave's hair and dragged her to her feet. Cockslurp's chin dribbled with spittle and Pippa's own juices, some even spilling down onto the pyjamas Pippa had ordered for Cockslurp just minutes ago. "AHHHH! Mistress, this cunt apologises! This miserable cunt will improve! This cunt begs to be corrected for its failings." whined Cockslurp, her eyes squeezed shut at the sudden pain.

"I want you to love me! Your body makes me feel things I haven't felt since watching other girls change at school, and your tongue...oh gods I'm soaking, but your eyes....your telltale fucking eyes. Love me. Lust for me. I don't want to just rape you tonight. I want to take you, make you mine, I want you to long to touch your clit and think of having just one more chance to taste me."

Tears filled Pippa's eyes as she looked at the slave in her grasp. Cockslurp's wrists still crossed at the base of her spine, her face was a mask of pain as she stood on tiptoes to relieve some of the pressure Pippa was putting on the roots of her hair. Just seeing a woman so pathetic and obedient when agony was inflicted on them just made Pippa even more angry. The fact that it was her inflicting the pain made Pippa angrier still.

Her right hand let go of Cockslurp's hair and with a swift tug the slave's shorts were to her knees. For a second her mind told her to get on knees and enjoy her own treat, tasting the slave as she herself had been devoured, to look up and show her that there was life in her own eyes, some spirit and lust behind them. Then she remembered the eyes and decided an altogether different course of action. She joined her fingers together to make a fist and slowly, gingerly placed it on Cockslurp's crotch.

She began to work the fist so that little by little it entered Cockslurp's pussy. Cockslurp grimaced in pain, her eyes rolling, her knees buckling, her hands desperate to move and stop what was going on between her thighs, but held solid as though locked in the finest irons made to prolong a woman's suffering. Helpless whimpers of pain forced themselves through Cockslurp's gritted teeth as Pippa pushed on.

With her fist now entirely in Cockslurp's pussy Pippa looked in her eyes once more. Now there was pain, now there was fear, there was recogniseable human emotion in those beautiful blue windows to the soul. For a second she revelled in it before proceeding in a mockery of masturbation, pumping her whole arm to move the fist inside Cockslurp. The woman screamed, she had no choice, the pain and torment were too great for her. "I want to know I fucking meant something to someone, anyone! I just want to know I matter. Make me feel like I matter, cunt! Make me feel special!" Pippa screamed as her fist reached a crescendo of speed. Cockslurp's eyes rolled back into her head, and her screams were now just unintelligible gasps as she hovered limply on the verge of passing out.

"Pathetic cunt. Snivelling weakling. You disgust me. I hate you!" She pulled Cockslurp off her fist and watched her tumble meekly to the floor, either unable or unwilling to use her hands to break her fall. Pippa looked at the wretched thing. What was wrong with this cunt, she thought. Her mind was pulling in a thousand directions all at once, she wanted to scream, to cry, to punch her father straight in his face and demand a single second of affection from him, from anyone. "I! HATE! You!"

She could no longer look at Cockslurp and turned walking away before half fallingand half sitting on the bed. She brought her hands up to cover her face and wept. Makeup ran down her face. She tore off the remaining lingerie and threw the tattered remains into a corner screaming guttural screams as she did so. Her mind boiled, she didn't hate Cockslurp, she realised. She hated everything Cockslurp symbolised, whether that was her own future, her own weakness, or that dark part of herself that saw women and wanted to bring them to heel just like a man. She'd get her freedom pass, she thought, she'd finish this whole stupid thing. She'd join the FLF, bring this whole ridiculous system to its knees. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. She wasn't a thing, she shouldn't have to do this. She shouldn't have to fight so hard just to be her.