Shadows in Mind Ch. 04

Four: Pip

Recent attempts by the locals to preserve and restore some very historic artifacts have gone over pleasantly well, and Earth and its system has become a nice little vacation spot I highly recommend: Check out the restored ruins of New York City, and check out a show on Broadway, once a cultural highlight of humanity. See the ancient pyramids, the oldest man-made structures in the entire Republic. Visit the old Lunar Colony, naturally preserved in its original state after all these years, or check out Jovian Research Station -where most scholars agree Hyperspace was discovered -, and watch the gas giant churn beneath you. The sites and tastes are very quaint, and definitely retain a generous helping of that old-world charm.

-Excerpt from Galactic Hotspots: A Travel Guide, published 1192AF

After a century or two, by Trippers best reckoning, the fire in his cock went out, and the invisible bastards beating his balls wandered away to pick on some other poor drek. His body unclenched, and he slowly unwrapped himself from the fetal position. His balls ached, both from the imaginary beating and the gallons of pent up cum he was sure he was now carrying. His penis throbbed, but the pain in his balls -reaching up into his guts -easily distracted him from that lesser ache.

His eyes cracked open, and he took in the sight of Star standing over him, smiling broadly. "You took that like a pussy," he commented. His eyes still radiated hate. "Don't be such a baby. You're little penis is still there, and there's nothing wrong with it. Up on your feet, bitch. Time to go back to your room."

Tripper stood slowly. Still there or not, he grimaced as his balls swung freely while he regained his feet, feeling heavy and full. He had a headache again, and wondered if he would ever go a full day again without a throbbing, splitting pain in his skull.

"Follow me," Star demanded, and moved to the door. Too tired to argue or respond, Tripper shuffled along after him. The other slave led him out into the hall, and they started to retrace his earlier path back to his tiny room. Star went silently, and Tripper follow suit, having no desire to engage the other man in conversation.

Star broke the silence as they took the last turn; ahead, Tripper recognized the doors to the showers and his own small room. "You will not take my place," the man hissed. "I'll see to it, one way or another. Madame Lucinda may have granted you an hour out of her time this morning, but it's me that will see her to bed tonight, it's me that will be sleeping at her feet."

"Look," Tripper explained. "You think I want to be here? I didn't exactly have a choice, hey."

Star just glared at him. "Do not mock me. I saw the way you looked at her, drinking in her beauty. Even the Mistress pales next to her. Do you think I'm a fool? Of course you want to take my place as her pet. How could you not? But you will not succeed."

"Listen, man. That's nuts. You can have her." They reached his room, and paused outside. Tripper refrained from opening the door, and tried instead to convince the other man he had no ulterior motives. "Really. She's all yours. I don't want to be nobody's slave, let alone hers."

Star scowled. "You lie, bitch." He leaned forward, and Tripper had to stop himself from flinching. "I know your secret," he whispered in Trippers ear. "I overheard."

"Secret? What secret?"

Star opened the door with a gentle shove. "Sewer Rat," he spoke with a sadistic grin. "When I am done speaking, you will go to your room. You will shut the door. You will never tell anyone that I know your command. And you will never tell anyone anything about this conversation. And now? You will masturbate until someone else comes to get you." Star cackled. "Go, bitch."

Without pause, Tripper walked into his room, pulling the door shut behind him. He fell to his knees just inside, and his hands went to his privates, one on his cock, and one cradling his balls. As horny as he was, it didn't take long before he hardened. "Crap," he muttered as he stroked, knowing what was coming; knowing that he would be unable to stop from trying to cum. "Crap crap crap." Silently, he hoped someone would be coming by his room soon. Anyone. Even Victoria. Otherwise he was in for a very long morning.

***

Victoria glanced up at the knock, sending her thoughts outward, and then mentally granted the newcomer permission to enter. She turned her attention back to the documents in front of her on the massive desk.

The door opened silently on well-maintained hinges, and a short diminutive woman slipped into the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Eyes down, she approached the desk, and paused before it; hands behind her back, she waited patiently to be addressed.

Where Victoria was tall and buxom, the newcomer -looking to be in her early twenties -was short and slim, her chest perky but considerably smaller. Her hair was a halo of dark blue, tinted with slashes of nearly black. Thin brows were creased in worry, her full lips turned down in a pout.

Without looking up, Victoria entered her mind and communicated, her expression giving nothing away. (We have spoken about this before. Your dress is inappropriate, especially as you had plenty of warning that I wished to see you).

The newcomer glanced down at herself. She was wearing simple loose grey pants, ideal for exercise. Her shirt was a white tank that left both her midriff and shoulders bare. "Yes Mistress," she said; a spark of irritation in her emerald eyes countered her words. "I apologize."

Victoria looked up, and her eyes flashed. "And yet here you are, looking as if you were at the gym, and not presenting yourself to the Mistress of this household. I am tired of your defiance, Mara. Next time I see you, you will see yourself appropriately dressed, or I will hand you over to Lucinda for a few hours of punishment, like one of the slaves."

"Yes, Mistress. Am I dismissed?"

"No, you are not." Victoria snapped. "I did not call you here to discuss your dress, as offensive as it is, as I am positive you are fully aware. Listen to me girl; I am done with your games. I couldn't care less about your thoughts or concerns. You are a member of this household and will act accordingly."

"Of course, Mistress."

"Damnit Mara, look at me!"

The girl looked up; her eyes flashing briefly in what might have been anger. She met the other woman's icy gaze without flinching.

"You are already at a disadvantage here. The others complain that you should be sent elsewhere, somewhere more fitting for your condition. Your place is here; but I cannot have you acting against everything I say, storming through the halls in silent defiance, dressed like a hobo, refusing to be a part of this community."

"I apologize Mistress. It is hard to know my place, knowing that I am just a cripple."

Victoria glared. "You are not a cripple." She glanced down at her hands on the desk for a moment, and took a calming breath. She looked up again before continuing, her voice somewhat softer. "You saw the new slave? I want you to take him tonight for a lesson. If you were the one to break him, you could gain much respect in the eyes of the others. Make him yours, Mara. Make everyone see that your disadvantage means nothing."

"I would rather not, Mistress. And I could give a spit what the others think of me."

"Language!" Victoria bellowed, her patience at an end. "You will take the slave to your room, and you will try your best to break him. I will know if you do not. My tolerance with your behavior is at an end. I will send you to Lucinda if you defy me one more time. She will treat you no different than any slave, and then we will see how your attitude holds up, as you weep and beg my forgiveness under her attentions. I will leave you with her for a month if that's what it takes to set you straight. Understood?"

Mara matched her look, her own eyes smoldering. For a moment, Victoria was sure the girl would push back, and she would have to make good on her promise. But she looked down, her eyes distant, and her frown deeper. "Yes, Mistress. As you command."

"Get out of here."

Mara turned to leave, and started towards the door.

"And Mara?" Victoria's voice froze her in place. "Wear something fitting of your station by the goddess!"

"Yes, Mistress."

***

Cinnamon knocked gently on the door, waited just a moment, and then pushed it open. He stepped into the room and gasped in surprise; Tripper was lying on his back on his narrow bed, his hand slowly working up and down the shaft of his cock, his eyes shut.

"Oh, thank the light," Tripper cried upon hearing the others surprise. He quickly let go and sat up, blushing a bit at his state. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, facing the other slave, pointedly not looking down at his leaking erection.

"What are you doing? Don't you know what happens if you try to cum?" Cinnamon exclaimed.

"Um, yeah. I noticed," Tripper muttered. He had suffered through the blinding pain as he approached climax three times before he figured out a loophole; if he masturbated very, very slowly he could avoid reaching the edge, and not get punishment. Of course, it was also agonizingly frustrating, and now he was even more desperate for an orgasm, and his head was still pounding. And he was compelled to not say a damn word about any of it. "I guess I'm a slow learner, hey. So, what brings you to my little corner of the galaxy, Cin?"

Cinnamon stared at him for a moment, a frown on his face, incredulous. The mixture of emotions he felt coming from Tripper was confusing at best, and he could not decide what the man had been thinking. Finally, he shook his head, dismissing it. "You need to come with me. Calisthenics." Cinnamon tossed a pair of simple shoes on the bed next to him.

Tripper stared back, blankly.

"Exercise. We are both slated for the afternoon calisthenics."

"Exercise," Tripper repeated, slowly. "Why?"

Cinnamon sighed. "Does it matter? Are you going to make me command you again? Because we have to. Because the Mistress likes us all to stay in shape, to remain pleasing to the eye. A fat slave is a blemish on the entire household. Ok?"

Tripper returned the sigh. His headache was raging, and his stomach grumbled; he was not sure the last time he had something to eat. He was exhausted, and his testicles felt heavy and swollen, the ache felt in his guts. Simply put, he felt like crap. "All right," he answered, and the other man raised an eyebrow in surprise. He didn't explain; he simply didn't have the energy to resist. Instead he put the shoes on, impressed at the fit, and moved towards the door.

"How was your morning with Lucinda?" Cinnamon asked as he took the lead through the hallway.

"I guess it could have been worse," Tripper muttered, reflecting on the day. He glanced at Cinnamon, and chose his words carefully; avoiding all the booby traps he felt waiting in his own mind. "That slave, Star; he seemed to have a bit of a problem with me."

They were moving down the hall in an unfamiliar direction; soon they approached a heavy looking door, different from the others they had passed, made of darkly stained wood. Cinnamon stared into an optical scanner, and the door lock clicked. Cinnamon pushed it open, and glanced at Tripper as they stepped outside.

"I wanted to warn you about Star, but did not have a chance; you were too busy being obstinate. Watch out for that one. He has a jealous streak about him; he is convinced his sole purpose in life is to serve Madam Lucinda, and that no one else can match his devotion. Just be yourself, and I'm sure you'll be fine. There is no way anyone could possibly think you were enjoying yourself, so there is no reason for him to think you were after his position."

They moved down a gravel walkway, heading towards the trees. Ahead of them, Tripper could see several other slaves heading in the same direction. "Crap," Tripper muttered.

Cinnamon glanced at him sharply. "You managed to make him think exactly that, didn't you?" Tripper nodded, looking slightly sheepish. "Oh, no," Cinnamon sighed. "Then you better watch out for him. He is even crueler than his Madam; I wouldn't want to guess what he's capable of. He'll hurt you, if he can."

Tripper frowned, but stayed silent. Aches in his balls and head were proof enough to verify Cinnamon's words.

They reached a small clearing, occupied by an orderly line of slaves, maybe a dozen in all, each dressed similar to Cinnamon in thongs and simple leather straps of various colors and placement. Most the men were stretching, working the muscles in their legs. They stepped up behind the last pair of slaves, joining the line, and Cinnamon started stretching as well.

"You should stretch," Cinnamon commented. "We have a long way to run."

Tripper chuckled. "I never stretched before tripping up some punks in the Sewer, don't see why I would bother now." Cinnamon rolled his eyes at him, and Tripper responded with a lopsided grin.

A giant strolled into the clearing, and stood facing the others with a faint smile. Tripper recognized one of the twins that had been guarding the dining room; his smile widened when he saw Tripper, his blue eyes flashing. He had discarded his armor, and instead wore the traditional leather bands that they all wore, but his were studded with sharp looking steel spikes.

"That's Pip," Cinnamon whispered. "His brother's name is Tiny. They are twins, but Tiny doesn't wear the spikes on his gear. Don't be alone with Pip, but his brother can actually be pretty nice. They both have the Mistress' favor, and are granted more liberties than the rest of us."

"All right, you shit smear cunts," Pip called out. With a frown, Tripper realized the prohibition against swearing apparently didn't apply to the wannabe-drill-sergeant. "Follow my lead!" The hulking man proceeded to lead the slaves through the most grueling sixty minutes of Trippers life. Push-ups, lunges, sit-ups, planks, and every other torture the arrogant, puffed up gym teacher could think of; by the end, Tripper was drenched in sweat, the feeling of sweat coating his naked body uncomfortable and distracting.

As he panted, hands on knees and leaning forward, Pip moved past him towards the front of the line. "Not done yet, fresh meat," the man laughed as he passed. "Now we run!"

As one, the group started forward at a fast jog, moving away from the estate and down a winding trail leading into the woods. Tripper groaned, ignoring the angry grumblings of his stomach, and followed next to Cinnamon.

Being exhausted and hungry was nothing new to Tripper; he kept pace, and took the opportunity to familiarize himself with the grounds. His eyes took in everything, roaming the forest, mentally mapping out their route. He did some quick figuring in his head, and determined the landing site with the spaceship was off about a kilometer to his left. Good to know, even if he doubted he could breach the ships security, let alone fly the thing.

Ahead, the path turned sharply; off to the side, he noticed bright red flags tied to trees, maybe a hundred meters off the path. The flags continued as they went, as if marking off some boundary off to his right. Tripper had to wonder what the flags were for, and what lay on the other side; as near as he could tell, just more trees.

"That's the border of the valley," Cinnamon offered from beside him, the slaves breathing labored but not winded. The man was in good shape, as apparently all the slaves were. "Do not go near them."

Tripper's eyes narrowed. "And you said no one ever leaves the valley, so you don't know what's there. Hey, it's right there; what's stopping us from just checking it out? Could be freedom just through them trees, hey."

Cinnamon frowned. "Don't try it. The flags aren't really the border; they just warn that you are approaching the edge. If you pass the flags, you'll know why. Pain. Bad pain, worse than anything you have felt. Last man that tried, an import like you, was found dead a couple days later. His insides had pretty much liquefied, and dumped out his ass. They buried what was left in a cigar case."

As the path turned away from the border, heading back the way they had come from, Tripper watched the flags fall behind, his mind working. Something was keeping people in the valley. Why? What was on the other side? Whatever it was, it had to be better that what he had found on this side. He would just need a way through.

The distance increased, and Tripper took one last look over his shoulder. The air seemed to shimmer beyond the flags, like he was looking into an out of focus camera. Something stirred in his mind, like a gentle hum. Something... Warm.

He shook his head, and the feeling left him. He ran on, following the others, leaving the border behind.

***

Cinnamon led him to the showers once they returned. This time, Tripper was all too happy to oblige, rinsing the sweat and dirt away. The showers were nearly full, a man at every shower. Cinnamon was on the far side of the room. Tripper closed his eyes, enjoying the warm water cascading over him.

He opened his eyes when he felt movement next to him; Pip had entered the showers, and ordered the slave next to Tripper to vacate with little more than a glare and a frown. The big man looked over at Tripper as he turned on the water, and leered.

"Hello fresh meat. You're a tiny thing. A bit like a girl. I could just bend you over and make you my little bitch."

Tripper glanced at the man, and reached for a handful of shampoo from the dispenser on the wall. Pip was staring at him with lust filled eyes; the man's dick was rock hard, and he was slowly stroking it in his direction. The man's wood was as large as everything else on the giant, as thick as Trippers wrist and nearly as long as his forearm. Tripper couldn't help but notice the showers were suddenly a lot emptier; Cinnamon was watching from the other side of the room, eyes wide and his face filled with fear. One other slave quickly finished up and scurried from the room.

Tripper began washing his hair, lathering it well; the soap dribbled down his body as he stepped slightly back from the spray of water. "Listen big boy, it's real nice of you to say so; I work hard for this girlish figure, hey. But guys aren't my style, man, and frankly that thing of yours looks like it ought to be better used on a horse or something. 'Sides, what's the point; we can't have a proper finish around here, anyway."

Pip chuckled. The head of his penis was an angry purple, engorged and throbbing. "Oh, I know you can't. I got me a bit more freedom, when I see a nice new bitch I'd like to break in. Saddle up and get ready for a ride."

Tripper sighed. So, it was going to be like that. "What a day," he muttered, again wishing he could toss in a decent swear or two. He faced the massive man and smiled. "Well, come on then. Let me show you how we play in the Sewer."

Pip lunged. When he hit the spray of Trippers shower he staggered; Tripper had flipped off the cold water while grabbing the shampoo, and had stepped back from the water. Between the man's charge and his surprise and the pain of the hot water, he lost his balance and grabbed for Tripper.

Tripper felt the man's arms grasp at his body; the generous lather from the shampoo coating him did the trick; the bigger man's arms slipped, and he smashed to the ground at Tripper's feet. The smaller man did not hesitate. He stomped on the back of the man's neck. "Mess with me, bitch? I don't think so!" Tripper screamed. He didn't even notice he had sworn without repercussions. Across the room, Cinnamon watched in shock.