Strapped to the Wall

Brody held his saber tightly. He took comfort in the hum of his anti-projectile energy shield as he wiped the sweat from his face. In the microgravity, the droplets floated away, little undulating orbs for the atmosphere filter to deal with.

'Am I shaking?' he thought. 'I am. Shaking like a little child.' He realized it without shame.

Every deep-space merchant knew the risk. Pirates were a threat, and no one had ever tried to tell him otherwise. He had looked at all the latest statistics, and he had done the math. On this route, only one-point-five percent of spacers died to pirates in their career.

But that was because pirate encounters were so rare. Now that they were docking with his freight ship, Brody's chances fell to sixty percent. But he knew they'd fall even lower if he panicked.

A sinister hiss filled the airlock as the pirate ship filled its unwilling space with air. The space freighter's pressurization system fought with the one on the pirate ship, doing what it could to slow their progress. But most pirates were wise to that trick by now, and these had invested in a stronger pressurizer. They wouldn't be stopped.

The clinical white of the freighter's walls flickered as the lights' power lapsed. Through the tiny window in the airlock door, Brody could see people gathering outside. They looked heavily armored, which meant they'd be heavily armed too, a rarity for pirates. Twenty precious percentage points dropped from Brody's survival chances.

The airlock opened. Bracing with his legs, Brody launched himself at the pirates before he knew which ones he would hit. He heard the heartbreaking thunk of his blade bouncing off mesh armor.

He looked up just in time to see the barrel of a stun gun aimed at his face. Kicking the pirate, he dodged to the side as the intoxicating blast flared in the air where he had been. Before he could decide who he was fighting or if he could win, another blast crackled, and this time Brody felt the debilitating shock course through his system. His world flashed white, then went black.

* * *

Iancah watched as her crewmates rooted through the captured freighter. The civilian crew had been smart enough to ruin the ship's fragile cargo of chemical medicine, but even so, the plunder was good. There were bank codes to be stolen from the computer terminal and good tools and weapons that could be pawned off easily. And, of course, there was the ship itself. Thanks to the fact that both sides had abstained from projectile and laser weapons, the freighter was ready to fly, and it would fetch a fine sum on the used market.

Iancah floated idly outside the airlock, watching as the captain, that short, stern, muscular Earth woman, carried all the most valuable loot off to her personal chest. Natia the first mate came after, quick and professional the way ex-military people always were. The mechanic and the medic followed, twin sisters just competent enough to earn a place in the crew. Then came Sirin, the crew's only male. He made a fine specimen, with handsome Middle Eastern features and a sharp face with a thin, jet-black moustache above a clean-shaven chin. The whole crew lusted after him, but only the captain could have him, and the invulnerable smirk on his expressive lips told everyone that he knew it.

Then, just as Iancah was ready for the call to detach, the captain took one last trip into the freighter and came back with another prize, slung inelegantly over one shoulder. It was a man, a member of the freighter crew, tranquilized but otherwise unharmed, with hastily strapped-on body armor looking completely mismatched over his smart Transect Corporation uniform.

Iancah let out a squeak. "Is that a new prisoner?"

"He's new," grumbled the captain. "He wouldn't fetch much of a ransom, but he's pretty, so we'll keep him for a while. All the others were either women or too damn ugly."

"Is he...?"

"He goes to the first mate," the captain cut off. "Don't even think about it."

Iancah pouted; she had indeed thought about it.

The captain raised her voice. "Alright," she barked at the whole crew, "Iancah, get ready to get us out of here before the marshals show up. Natia, the prisoner's all yours. You two..." she pointed at the twins. "Board that freighter and pawn it off. Meet us at Danube's. Don't even bother coming back with less than a hundred thousand credits. Understand?"

"Yeah," said the twins, in offset unison.

In a moment, the twins disappeared into the other ship. Before Iancah took to the pilot's controls, she cast one last look at the comatose prisoner. His thick, rectangle eyebrows rode high over sweetly closed eyes, and a thin, almost pouting mouth rested over his evenly tapering chin. His brown hair, barely long enough in front to reach his eyes, floated in bunches or was pressed to his skull by sweat.

Once they had him cleaned up, he would be a beauty. As the first mate disappeared with him into the cargo room, an idea flashed through Iancah's mind. She rushed to the pilot's controls, and as she prepared to fire the engines, she surreptitiously tapped into the security camera of Natia's personal quarters. Through it, she saw the first mate and the captured boy.

Iancah watched with interest.

* * *

Natia sat comfortably strapped into her plush chair, watching the comatose form of their newest catch-- Brody, said his name tag-- float around her quarters. A netcast she had downloaded at the last spaceport played softly from a single speaker in her entertainment suite in the wall, and she listened with half an ear.

She heard a crinkle, and she turned up the sound on her suite, thinking it had been an audio glitch. Then she shut off the speakers when she realized what she had heard. The boy was waking up.

Haltingly, his eyes opened. Blue irises slowly panned from side to side, then up and down, not seeming to register Natia yet. His arms flailed in slow motion, then his fingers began to twitch. Even after a minute, when his movements started to look coordinated, he clearly didn't know where he was.

Finally, his face perked with cohesion. He looked around. His clueless eyes centered on Natia, and his pupils shrank in their pretty blue irises.

"Wakey, wakey," said Natia. "You certainly kept we waiting, freshmeat. You'd better be all rested up."

"Why..." he coughed. "Why am I here?"

Natia gave a harsh laugh. "You really don't know?"

He looked around, as if he would find clues on the walls. "Ransom?"

Natia grinned. "You? Ransom? This isn't the twenty-first century, boy. Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

He was speechless.

"Suit yourself." She sat up straight. "Strip. I want your clothes off, all of them."

His eyebrows pressed low over his rich blue orbs. "You're joking."

"Wanna bet?" She pulled a nutrient bar from her pocket and absently chewed off a sliver. "Two options, pretty thing. Either you can do what I say so I can redress you right away, or I can come up there and wrestle those clothes off you. If you want me stripping your pretty ass naked with my bare hands, I'll do it."

He looked down at his mussed, sweaty corporate uniform, now bare of its armor, then looked back to Natia and gave a silent pout. Slowly, reluctantly, he undid his belt, sending it floating away in a gradually opening arc.

Microgravity made it a mesmerizing sight. Once he had loosened his belt, his pants billowed around his waist, then he slid them easily away, throwing them off into a corner as if he knew he would never see them again.

A little fold of black cloth covered his male parts, a skimpy pouch that bulged out from between his thin legs, held on by flat straps that traced around his surprisingly well-toned thighs. As he flexed, hurrying to get his shirt off, the pouch flapped appealingly, his cock and balls swinging and bouncing in pronounced slow motion. Natia had to tear her eyes away as his chest appeared, one centimeter of flat, smooth skin at a time, transitioning neatly up into soft mounds defined by his ribcage, with little plateaus of tight flesh on his upper torso, each one capped by a little red nipple.

Natia grinned. This boy may have been a dimwitted bitch, but his body was worth it.

Natia must have made a noise, because Brody stopped and stared at her, his shirt three-quarters of the way off, as if expecting a cue. When he met only her intent stare, he kept working, joining his hands above his head to let the garment climb past his shoulders. Finally, he flung it to the corner with his pants.

"There, I'm done," he said quickly. "Now where are the new clothes you promised?"

"Mm-mm," Natia shook her head with a devious smile. "The whole thing. Those undies come off too, or you're not getting a stitch."

For a moment, he seemed to consider resisting her, then muttered, "Fine." With a flick of his thumbs and an amazingly flexible move of his legs, his underwear was gone.

"Very nice." Natia clapped her hands lazily. "Very nice indeed." She stretched out the last syllable of 'indeed' as she watched his cock sway in front of him, his balls swinging awkwardly beneath. "How long's it been for you, boy?"

Brody did not answer.

She chuckled behind closed lips. "Don't tell me you're a virgin."

"I've done it twice," he said. "Last time was half a year ago."

"Judging by your accent, you mean half a Martian year."

Brody went bitterly silent.

"Oh, but we'll fix that. Anyway, a promise is a promise. Your new outfit, coming up." Hanging onto to her right armrest, she undid the security straps and pushed herself from the seat, swinging around to a drawer that she had stocked for this purpose. Fishing out a short white plastic tube with a latch and deadbolt lock, she flicked them at Brody. "Catch, boy. This goes on first."

With a twitch, he caught the items, then examined them in his hands. "What the hell is this?" He turned the tube over in his hands and found that it was a tall, thin cup with a slit in the bottom. His fingers played over the aperture.

Natia grew a teasing smile. "Think about it. You're a cut of choice meat. You're on a ship full of women. And I don't share."

"How is this..." He looked at her. "How does this help you?"

"Are you blind? That's a chastity cage! Don't tell me you've never seen one before, because I won't believe it."

Brody's face wrinkled with disgust. "You can't be serious."

"Put it on or I'll do it for you. Going once..."

With a start, he brought the tube to his cock, which was still somehow flaccid, and slipped it on. His man-flesh pressed against the inside of the tube, looking dilated through the clear dome of the tip. As he handled it, his rod started to expand, pushing against its new limits. With the care of a microelectrician, he closed the hinged ring around his balls and clicked the lock in place. He began to grow an erection, pushing the cage forward, pulling on the sensitive skin at the base of his testicles. Gritting his teeth, he clutched the cage, as if that would help him, and made an adorable effort to look as if it wasn't hurting him until his erection subsided. Even then, his muscles stayed tense, sinews contouring his body and limbs. Sweat oiled his smooth pale skin.

"You'll get used to it," Natia waved a dismissive hand as she rooted around in the drawer. "Here's your next layer. I don't want to hear any whining about it."

She threw, and he caught the wad of polymer and unrolled it to reveal a pair of stretchy dark grey biker's shorts. When he turned them around, he noticed that the front had been cut out; this garment would do nothing to conceal his genitals.

He looked up at Natia, and she could see a protest ready on his lips, but he thought better of it and clammed up. Pulling up his legs, he prepared to don the stretchy thing, then something caught his attention. Carefully, he removed a little bunched-up ball from the shorts and unfurled it.

It was a black thong, little more than a round pouch with strings looped around it. Brody's face cycled through befuddlement, then relief as he realized that he wouldn't be floating around with his chastened penis exposed.

He made an entertaining spectacle of himself, trying to slide the thong on. His legs threaded through the loops first, but he accidentally got both legs under one of the loops, so that when he pulled up the thong, the pouch hung off to his side while the loops tangled around his cock casing. He made a frustrated little noise as he pulled it off, then back on again, using his left hand to stuff his cock into the pouch. Once the straps settled around his waist, the shape of his caged penis showed through the fabric, just clear enough to give a tantalizing hint of what was underneath.

Brody slid on the crotchless shorts with no difficulty. When he looked up at her, his face dripped with anxious anticipation.

"Alright, here's the last of it." said Natia, tossing over a draw-string bag.

Brody opened it to find a black wad of plastic cloth. His face remained studiously clear of judgment as he unfolded it, then lit up with understanding as he recognized it as a vest. Easily, he slipped it on over his shoulders, flexing his torso muscles a few times to settle it over his body.

"Yummy," said Natia. "Now come here."

He shrank. "No... you're not..."

"Wrong answer." Bracing her legs against the wall, she sailed across the room, meeting him with palms out and driving him into the far wall, his back crashing against the metal. Her right hand grabbed a handhold, keeping him pinned between the cold metal wall and her own sex-heated body. "You think I dressed you like that so you could run maintenance?" She placed her right index finger on his collarbone and traced it slowly down, pushing aside the left flap of his vest. Her fingers found his nipple, and she looked into his eyes as she pinched.

Brody winced, forcing himself not to make noise. With a laugh, the woman kept pinching, watching his face contort under the effort. A few more pinches, and she released it, holding onto him with both hands as they traveled down his body.

Brody's face contorted. "Ouch," he muttered.

"Ooh, does that pull?" Natia reached down to his bulging pouch and bounced it on her fingers a few times. "Good." Her hand tipped his chin up, and before he saw it coming, she kissed him, her wet lips making a seal between her mouth and his.

Under her fingers, his chastened cock pricked up, straightening but unable to expand. His chest pulsed with quick breaths. His fists clenched, tightening muscles all the way up to his shoulders, trembling under the pain.

At last, she pulled away. "Oh, fine," she said mockingly. "I'll leave you alone. But I won't leave you free."

With one hand, she pulled a cargo strap from its reel embedded in the wall and tied it around his right wrist, then did the same for the left. He didn't resist as she bound his ankles. She spoke a two-syllable voice command, and the reels pulled the straps taut, forcing his limbs to spread in an X-shape. He breathed easily as the red faded from his face and his caged cock slowly let itself down again.

Natia drifted to the door. At the hatch, she paused to blow a kiss at Brody. "See you soon."

She did not wait for a response.

* * *

With a casual motion, the first mate-- Natia, Brody thought she was called-- flicked open the door hatch, pulled herself through and eased it shut behind her, leaving Brody alone on the wall, his testicles still pulsing from the pain of being stretched. Even in the cool air, he had taken embarrassingly long to go flaccid.

Brody tested his bonds. He knew ships well enough to know that he could never be strong enough to break the straps. And since that woman had been smart enough to bind him with knots, he couldn't slip out; cargo straps had nowhere near that kind of elasticity.

'Helpless,' he thought. After his first day in space, Brody had thought he knew helplessness. Hurtling through a vacuum populated by nothing but deadly space junk, without even the force of gravity to keep his feet on the floor, he had thought that no one could be more at fate's mercy than a regular cargo spacer. Now he knew better.

* * *

Iancah had the ship on autopilot. The truth was, the ship's computer did more navigating than she did. The captain was under the impression that spacecraft ran on miracles and required Iancah's expert hand just to stay on course, and Iancah had found it useful to keep up that illusion. But in reality, she was sitting idle. 'How much of my life do I spend this way?' she thought to herself. 'Just waiting. Getting just far enough to stay where I am.'

She checked the security feeds. The captain was relaxing in her quarters, watching a movie with her boy-toy Sirin. The first mate had deactivated the security feed in her quarters, but Iancah saw her in the engine room, reading something on her phone. And the sisters, of course, were not aboard.

Curiosity overcame Iancah, and after a few extra glances at the feeds, she abandoned her post. Gently opening the door to the cockpit, she slipped over to the first mate's quarters, eased the door open and pulled herself through. Turning it around, she closed it with as little sound as she could manage. For a few seconds, she shut her eyes and breathed, basking in the danger of trespassing.

"What are you doing here?" came a male voice. It wasn't Sirin's even tenor, but a deeper voice, Martian-accented and with a ragged edge.

Iancah turned around. There was the first mate's prize, strapped to the wall by the wrists and ankles and dressed in whatever scrap clothing she hadn't needed. It looked ridiculous on him, but the vest showed healthy, unblemished skin and impressively toned arms, quite an achievement for a spacer. His face, too, was nicely built, thin but with a clearly defined jaw and curved, teardrop-shaped eyebrows over intent blue eyes. His voluminous chin-length brown hair billowed in the microgravity.

It took Iancah a moment to realize that his form-fitting black shorts had a cutout over his crotch, and his cock pressed visibly against his underwear pouch.

"Hey, you!" the voice came back, harsher this time. "You're not the woman who locked me in here. So what are you doing here?"

Iancah paused. She wanted to tell him what a boring job it was to fly a space ship and what a rare opportunity she had to snoop in the first mate's quarters. She wanted to say how much she wished she could be off this ship and how beautiful his face was, but the words all turned into a mess in her head.

"Come to gawk?" the boy grumbled. "You won't be the first."

Iancah pushed off the wall and drifted up to him. "Did the first mate leave you like this?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, I just love feeling my muscles atrophy, so I strapped myself to- hey! Stop that!"

Iancah's hand pinched the cloth of his pouch and pulled it down, revealing a plastic cage around his cock. She palmed his balls carefully, feeling their warm, oddly coarse skin on her hand. As her fingers probed at the bare skin around the base, the tip of his cock began to bob with a sudden erection. She watched his shaft lengthen, skin lightening as it stretched as far as the cage would allow. Iancah squeezed again, feeling the pleasing warmth and firmness under her fingers.

"Get off!" growled the man. "I'm not your sex toy, you animal!"

Iancah let go. She looked up at the man's face, abashed to see it set with hostility. His curved eyebrows furrowed, and those sweet lips curled into a snarl.

"Animal?" Iancah repeated. She had heard her crewmates called that many times, but never herself.

"Yes! Messing with someone's dick just for fun? Taking advantage of somebody? That's what you call an animal!"

Iancah pushed away from the wall. She grabbed the exit hatch, wrestling with what he had called her. Always, she had taken comfort in telling herself she was above the rest of the crew, the lone sane woman in a gang of monsters. But the man had a point.