Shadows in Mind Ch. 07

Man is weak, while Woman is strong. Man thinks with his sex, while Woman thinks with her mind. Man needs to be sheltered and protected, while Woman provides. And above all, Man was made to serve while Woman was made to rule.

This is the natural order. Woman may look down at man with fondness as they look up in adoration; but never can Woman look at Man as anything but a servant. To put a Man on a pedestal is to let the serpent into one's home. Like the serpent, the Man will strike when least expected. Beware! And remember Man was placed beneath Woman, and so should remain.

-Excerpt from The Book of Righteousness

After leaving Jade's suite, Tripper for once had an uneventful night. After a quick dinner, sitting at the end of one long table by himself, he had retired to his room. He fell asleep without even taking the time to crawl under the single thin blanket the room had been equipped with.

If he dreamed, he remembered nothing when a familiar knock at the door woke him again in the morning. He joined Cinnamon in the showers, and then followed him back to the cafeteria for breakfast. He picked at the eggs and bacon, watching the other slave dig into his own food.

"That is very distracting," Cinnamon paused with a fork halfway to his mouth.

"Hey?" Tripper murmured.

"You reek of self-loathing. It's radiating off you like a bad smell. Did Madame Jade treat you so bad?"

"Nah, I guess she treated me just fine. Real gentle like, like an old book or something. My best day yet, hey."

"Ok, then why are you trying to give me a second-hand emotional break down?"

Tripper grinned slightly. "Sorry, Cin. She treated me real well. Like a slave, hey. I cleaned her place top to bottom, then I cleaned her, and she sent me on my way. Didn't even order me back to my rooms, but where else would I go? Got a roof over my head, and plenty of food. Who am I to complain? Sure, some clothes would be nice, but I guess they keep it warm enough in here. Follow the rules and everything is just fine, hey."

Cinnamon nodded. "You're starting to accept it. It will get better. Once you let yourself enjoy the good parts."

"If I stay much longer, I'm gonna sound just like you, aren't I? No offence."

"None taken."

"I don't want to sound like a slave, Cin," Tripper continued. "I ain't no slave. But if I don't get out of here, I don't know if I can stop it."

"Once you settle in, they will reward you. The rewards are very good, my friend."

Tripper's eyes flashed briefly with anger. "I don't want rewards. That's just another way for them to own me." He turned his eyes down, staring at his half eaten meal. "Has to be a way out," he muttered.

Cinnamon sighed, and glanced at a clock on the wall. "We have to go. We both have assignments. It will get better."

Tripper scowled, but stood to follow the slave.

"The Madame you see today is a bit different," Cinnamon warned as they worked their way through the building. "I have never served her; few have. But I have heard she is very particular, and very quick to anger. Do your best to do whatever she asks, no matter how... strange. Even the other woman seem to think she is a little odd, and I think she has some connection to the Mistress. Just... Be careful."

"Do what I'm told. Got it. Seems like that'd be hard to forget, hey," Tripper muttered.

Cinnamon left him standing outside the door. As he watched the man leave, Tripper glanced around the hallway. It was empty. There was nothing stopping him from turning, and heading somewhere else. Looking for a window, or an open door. Going back to his room, and pulling the blanket over his head. Nothing. Nothing except the threat of punishment if he were caught. He shuddered, remembering Victoria's little show; the humiliation, the pain.

He had no choice. He was a slave.

He knocked, and dropped to his knees, his arms behind his back, his eyes downcast. And he waited.

Eventually, the door opened; as he had been taught, he glanced up, looking for any unspoken direction. His eyes met hers, and widened. With a gasp, he tore his gaze away, knowing he would be punished. But he wasn't sure he cared.

She was beautiful. They all were, but she was different. She was short, a slip of a woman that had to stand at least a head shorter than he. Her skin was pale and soft; she wore a short black leather skirt and tall black heals that made her slim but strong legs reach for eternity, the fine muscles flexing beneath the smooth, milky skin. A leather corset kept perfect shoulders bared, and pushed up the modest breasts, displaying enough cleavage to easily get his manhood rising. Above her chest, her narrow delicate neck set his mouth watering. Hair that seemed out of place here, dark blue with darker streaks of near black, framed her face and spilled out behind her like a waterfall at night. Emerald eyes -bright enough, he was sure, to brighten a room -glanced at his stirring erection, and glared at him; lips both full and thin, painted a dark shade of blue, frowned at him.

But something about her, something he couldn't explain, was different.

"Well," she snapped, "get in here. Let's get this over with." Her voice was hard; but the anger sounded unnatural, as if were against her nature.

With a nod, he stood and followed her in.

She moved to a sofa, so alike the others he had served. But Tripper noticed right away, even her room was different. The sofa was a pale color, and the table next to it simple. A view screen dominated one wall, but the rest of the room was bare. No pictures, no shelves full of collectibles and knick knacks.

He took his place on the floor before her, and directed his gaze off to one side of her throat. Again, he waited in silence.

Minutes passed, and he tried not to shift, his knees uncomfortable. He felt her gaze on him. His throat dry, he wished she would say something. Anything.

"What's your name?" she asked at last, breaking the silence.

He nearly gasped in relief. Without looking up, he answered. "I have not been given one."

"Fuck," she responded. Tripper couldn't hide his surprise at the language, and didn't quite manage to stop a grunt. "Your real name. Not what they tell you to say. What is it?"

Was it a test? He had no idea how to respond. His eyes flickered to the door and back, as if looking for Victoria. In front of him, the woman's foot started to tap impatiently. Again, it seemed he had no choice. Dropping his gaze to the carpet, he whispered, "Tripper, Madame."

"I'm Mara," she answered. "Not Madame, or anything else. Mara."

"Yes... Mara," Tripper stuttered, still intently watching the carpet.

"Look at me," she said, quieter. There was something in her tone that sounded like vulnerability. He found it more impossible to ignore than any of the commands he had heard, and met her gaze; again his eyes widened, taking in her beauty, like nothing he had ever imagined. She smiled when their eyes met, and he felt something with him flicker to life, filling his chest with an almost unbearable heat.

They stared at each other silently for an infinity.

"Sit on the sofa next to me," she suddenly sighed. "That can't be easy on your knees." Tripper looked shocked, but scrambled to obey. When Cin had warned him that this Madame would be different, he had not been kidding. Just when he was starting to accept he would have to do as he was told, suddenly the rules seems to have been turned on their head.

The woman sighed again, and Tripper was sure he saw pity in her eyes, and something else; frustration, and maybe a hint of... sadness.

"Talk to me as if you didn't have to," she said. She looked away, managing to look vulnerable again.

"I'm sorry?" Tripper replied, not understanding.

"Talk to me as if you were not a slave. Not my slave. Talk to me like... You."

"Um. Ok. You, uh, you the boss." She smiled, faintly. "So, uh, what do you want to talk about, hey?"

"Whatever you want. I have some rules I have to follow today, or I get in trouble, but nothing you say will leave this room -this much I can promise. Tell me anything. Tell me about where you come from. Tell me about your life, before you were stolen and brought here."

Tripper looked at her from the other side of the sofa. His eyes met hers, and although he should be afraid of punishment, he was not. She meant it. He did not know how, but he knew she meant it. This was no trap. This woman, radiating loneliness, wanted him to talk.

"I was born in the Undercity on Trandor. My mom, she raised me by herself. Never found out what happened to my dad. She worked two jobs, and still found the time to walk me home from school. She-" he stopped. His detox, the dreams, it was all too recent; his voice broke a little, and he swallowed to hide his discomfort, before changing the subject. "When I lost her, I was very young, hey. The streets, they took me in. They were my mother, hey. Spent a few years as a skimmer, working for one pack or another."

"What's a skimmer?" Mara interrupted to ask quietly. He glanced at her, and wondered if she had ever seen any other world than the one he was trapped on. For some reason, it occurred to him that maybe she was trapped too.

"A theif, see. But always young. Kids. No more than nine or ten. We work in packs. Sometimes we steal, sometimes we beg, sometimes the pack, we swarm a guy, hurt them bad, and then take what we want. But everything we get, always, goes to the pack leader. Always an older man, he the one running things. He gets the loot, see, and gives us a roof. Some food, maybe, if we do good. Sometimes, he gives us more than we want." He frowned at the memory. "One time, I said no, and he beat me near to death, left me in the gutter. But I got better, see. The street, she my mother, but she a tough one. Teach me to be tough, too. So I got better, and wasn't a skimmer no more."

"How old were you then?" she asked in a whisper. He looked away; he could not meet her gaze any longer.

"Drek, I was young. Eight, I think. But time for a career change. I met this older guy, name of Fen. Good guy. Fifteen or sixteen, he took me in. Felt sorry for me. He was a jake, yeah. Let me stay there, couple years. I still did a bit of skimming, but without the pack, there wasn't much money in it, eh. But Fen didn't mind. Said I reminded him of his little brother what died before. Let me stay, kept me safe and fed. And never laid a finger on me, not that way, or the other. Good guy, he was." He felt tears in his eyes, and Tripper looked down. He couldn't believe what he was sharing, but couldn't seem to stop, either. He held back a sob, and continued.

"I was maybe ten when this new pimp moved into the block. Nasty woman, the street had taught her, that's for sure. Real mean, vicious. Took out the competition, killed em good. Sometimes she would fuck em first," he paused, and shuddered. "She had this bio-mod... Would cut 'em down there, cut it clean off, and leave em to bleed to death. Real scary bitch. Well, she didn't believe in no free jakes; she told Fen he worked for her, now. Fen, see, he didn't agree. I came home just in time to watch her slit his throat."

"I'm sorry," Mara whispered. Her eyes... They were so full of pity he couldn't stand it.

"Yeah, well. Drek happens, neh? Drek happens. I tried to run, but she was faster. And she told me, since Fen said no, that I worked for her now." He shrugged. "She kept a roof over my head, me and the other jakes, for a few years. She didn't have no interest in us kids, so as long as we did as we were told, she kept her hands to herself. And one day, another pimp, he took her out too." He shrugged. "Spent a few years like that. Pimped out by one boss or another, jaking my way through life. Could be worse, hey. I could be Fen."

"And then the Mistress found you, and brought you here," Mara added.

"'Bout right. But hey, this is worse. Depending on the pimp, I usually could say no as I wanted. Just meant I missed a meal, no big thing. I was still me, you know? Someone piss me off, I tell em. I was... free. Not like this drek here. I had friends, and there were good times, you know? But here, all I can think is how much I want to leave, and how I can't. This drek is messed up. I ain't nobody's slave; this shit so fucked up, what that bitch did to me the other day, that was worse, man. That shit give me nightmares, and now I just want to be a good little slave boy and do as I'm told so it doesn't happen again, cause I think it would kill me if I did. And now you here, making me spill this shit, and Im gonna get punished just for thinking it, and I don't even care! Cause this fucking place is killing me, and I don't-" A finger pressed gently to his lips silenced his rant, and he looked at Mara with wide, wet eyes. He was crying, and had not even noticed. She moved to embrace him, and he let her. She held him, and he sobbed quietly into her hair.

"I won't tell anyone, Tripper," she whispered. He heard, and believed. "It's horrible what you have been through, and it's horrible that Mistress took you. It's not fair. I wish I could help you. What we are doing to you is wrong."

He stopped crying eventually, and felt his cheeks grow red. He couldn't believe he had just broke down in front of her, crying like some weakling. He felt so ashamed. But all he felt from her was... Concern. Respect. Admiration, and maybe something... else.

And it occurred to him, he was still naked. He became awkwardly aware that his half hard penis pressed against the soft flesh of her thigh, and he felt himself grow firmer as he thought about that contact. She shifted against him, and he jolted when he felt her hand suddenly grasp his cock. She gave him a few strokes, bringing him fully to attention. She kissed him, and his mouth opened to meet hers, her tongue lightly probing his. He felt her heart pounding in her chest against him, and could hear her breathing increase. She reached down with her free hand, her other still stroking, and took his hand and placed it on her breast. Following the unspoken order, he began to caress her, stroking the tops of her breasts.

She stopped suddenly, breaking all contact, and pulled back; "Do you want this?" she panted. "Do you want me?"

"Of course," he answered.

"Not as a slave. I won't order you to do this. Do you really want me?"

"Yes," he gasped.

"Then take me, Tripper."

They embraced again, her hand again stroking, their lips crushed together. His hands went to her corset, and made short work of the ties; the garment parted, and fell away, and she moaned as his hands caressed her breasts. He broke the kiss, and bowed his head, bringing his lips to her nipples. She moaned at the contact and pushed herself harder against his face, as his tongue flicked out eagerly. His hand trailed along her stomach, teasing and tickling lightly, slowly moving lower. His hand touched her through the skirt, and he could feel the heat of her sex even through the leather.

Mara growled a curse, and let go of his cock. She stood, and pulled her skirt up around her waist, revealing a bald, pink pussy, its lips glistening with moisture. Tripper's eyes locked on her sex, even as she climbed atop him, straddling him; it hovered over his throbbing cock for just a moment, and then slowly she plunged down, taking him inside her. He moaned, and she moaned. He reached and took her breasts in his hands again, a little rough now, and she growled her approval. Slowly, Mara moved her hips, grinding herself against him. He moved one hand to her ass, and she moaned and started to grind harder.

He took one breast into his mouth, as much as he could, and sucked as he squeezed and kneaded the other. His other hand moved from her ass around the front; with his thumb, he caressed her clit as she rode him. She was crying out above him, and he knew he could not last; it had been too long since he had last cummed, there had been too much teasing, too much stimulation. But he still was not allowed to cum; his conditioning would have him rolling on the floor in pain in another few seconds.

Somehow, she sensed it, even as her cries rose in pitch and volume. "Cum with me! I command it!" she cried. Her command did it; he felt something unlock, and he knew he had permission. He cried out, bellowing almost like a man in pain, and his massive orgasm crashed into him. He felt Mara's pussy contract around him as her orgasm also hit, and the two of them cried out incoherently as the pleasure consumed them both.

Sated, her motion gradually stopped; he felt himself growing soft inside her. Neither seemed in a hurry to break the intimate connection, and she lay forward against him, sighing. "I wish I could help you," she whispered, her cheek resting against his chest.

"You just did," he admitted.

She giggled, and was then silent a moment before continuing. "I wish I could help you leave. But there is nowhere to go. I'm stuck on this world as much as you are. And there is nowhere on this world safe for men."

Tripper thought of the barrier he had seen and felt during exercise. "What about beyond the barrier? Is the whole world like this?"

"No, not like this. But worse. The barrier keeps us safe from the natives. They would kill you at first sight. But it's pointless anyways, as there is no way past."

"I'm going to find a way. The street made me strong; maybe strong enough for any native monsters."

"Maybe," Mara answered. "But there is no way past."

"There is. Just need to find it."

She smiled. "I wish there was. I would go with you, and we could get away from this sick place. But there isn't." She pulled her head back, and met his gaze. "You have to go soon. You can't be late for your next appointment. I don't want you to be punished. Just... Just do whatever they say. They can't punish you for doing what they ask."

"What about you, hey?"

"I'm not a slave, but just the same I have to answer to the Mistress." She frowned, and the sadness was back in her emerald eyes. "I may not be able to see you again for a while. But when I can, I will. Just... Just do anything they tell you. Don't get into trouble, and I can see you again."

Tripper nodded. "I will. But I will also find a way out of here."

She stood, and his manhood felt cold and wet as it slipped free of her. She pulled her skirt down and watched him with smiling eyes. "Don't do anything to get yourself hurt." She turned from him, and started towards one of the back rooms; "Go back to your rooms, Trip. They will come for you soon. Do as they say."

Tripper nodded, and watched her go before letting himself out. He made his way easily back to his cell, his smile unwavering the entire way.

* * *

Victoria opened her eyes, and stared at the heavy wooden door as if she intended to burn a hole through it with her eyes. She dismissed the images from her head like deleting files from her computer; it was so distasteful, so disappointing, that she did not have any desire to ever recollect them again. After all the warnings, the threats, she had been positive the girl would behave; she had started out as if she were listening. She had dressed the part, had even kept the slave waiting. And then they had chatted like a couple of foolish school girls, and ended up fornicating like those same schoolgirls. Unacceptable. She had let the slave cum, undoing much of his training. She was not happy with the setback; she was furious that Mara had so blatantly disobeyed her. Again. She would have to follow through on her threats, and teach the girl a lesson.

She took a deep, calming breath. She needed to talk with several woman, and did not want to accidently blast their minds with her telepathic words, giving them a headache or even much worse, that's how angry she was.