The Pasture in Space - Revolution

Assuming her mind could even find the words. T

he rational part of her being had been pushed back, crippled by this combination of pain and pleasure. She could barely think, unable to understand what was happening to her.

But the milk continued to flow.

She stayed like this for hours, continuing the same climax, unable to do more than breath as her body continue to betray her. The lips of her pussy quivered. Involuntarily, she rode the device, a victim of her own momentum and the laws of gravity. Losing all sense of herself, below the waist went completely numb, her pleasure center simply overloaded. Time ceased to have a meaning, every moment extended for an eternity.

Yet the rock continued hurtling in space.

Now and then, Violet would stroke her hair, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Once she had even dared to kiss her forehead, mopped in sweat. Gwendolyn hadn't reacted, barely able to feel even the relentless pounding in her pussy and ass. Tears streamed down her face, her brain draining every chemical, sucking dry the dopamine as fast as it could be artificially fed through the tube in her mouth.

Violet adjusted the controls, and Gwendolyn hung horizontally. The change in position brought her sense briefly back to life, just like painfully shaking her foot awake from a position that restricted the blood flow. While the pleasure and some sense of self briefly returned, so came again the sharp pain from being kept in a constant state of bliss. Her holes howled, sore, almost blistered as the phallic shapes moved in and out. More than before, her tits seemed squeeze by a vice, her nipples tender and swollen as the last few drops spurted out.

The milk flow had nearly dried up as the container neared the necessary four liters. Violet grimaced. Without a little more, the whole experience would be for nothing. And from the tired, almost vacant expression on Gwendolyn's face, she knew they would never get another chance at this.

"You're almost there," Violet said, stroking her cheek. "We still need 34 centiliters."

Gwendolyn was unresponsive, drool coming out of the corners of her mouth, her eyes staring a thousand kilometers into the distance. Violet bit her lip, coming to a painful decision.

"I'm going to try something drastic," Violet said. "It's going to hurt."

Gwendolyn's head moved forward, not quite a nod, but enough. Inside the mass of warped orgasm someone still lived inside, barely hanging on.

She made one final adjustment to her v-screen, going past the max dosage of hormones, setting the device on the highest setting. It whined, almost in protest, taking its rhythmic pounding to a new level. Gwendolyn tried to bite down on the nozzle, choking, rattling back and forth, hung suspended like an animal on its hands and knees.

The climax changed, still surging, only like knives in every one of her overtaxed brain cells. Had there been questioning, she would have talked. Had there been a confession, she would have thrown herself on the mercy of her inquisitor. It was as though something hard smacked against her clitoris just as she climaxed, over and over again, keeping her right at the moment of needing release.

The last few milliliters eked out of her body as she stopped trashing, stopped fighting, her muscles wore down, spent in the fight. And yet still her pussy quivered and quaked, ready to stop reverberating and sending the signal to relax.

It wasn't that easy. Violet had to instruct the machine to make one final push. Gwendolyn's eyes went wild, suddenly fully awake. Then the device buried itself inside of her one final time, coming to a stop as it allowed her body to finally finished the orgasm.

Her pussy turned to putty, her brain unable to process the profound release after hours of abuse. An almost delirious sense of euphoria came crashing down to the bottom of her toes, an orgasm unlike anything other, commiserate with the arduous struggle needed for it to arrive. And at last in her proper refractory period, Gwendolyn passed out.

Her lover went at the device like a deranged animal. Violet ripped off the suction cups, calming hers to gently pull free the hoses, then holding Gwendolyn's naked unconscious body in her lap. Violet cradled her against those large breasts, rocking her gently, ready to cry at the abuse she'd needed to inflict on this poor girl.

And again, only her superhuman control of her emotions kept them in check.

"You did it, Gwen," She whispered. "It was all you. We have enough milk to change things. It's okay, rest now. Sleep."

"Violet Nall!" The voice belt out from behind.

She glanced back at two enforcers, her dark eyes murderous as she stared down jack-booted thugs responsible for keeping the overseer's orders.

"You are under arrest on the orders of Overseer Tycho," The man spat out. "Assume the position for detention."

"Under what charge?" Violet said.

The man looked around nervously. It seemed that the powerful magnetism of Violet's personality, even saddled with her defenseless lover, implored him to answer.

"Treason."

9

Gwendolyn woke up to the droning sounds of the Overseer's council. She could hear voices, arguing softly, inflections rising. Only her eyelids remained heavy, sedated as the collection of chemicals absorbed into her brain.

"The accusations are completely spurious," She heard Violet said. "Based on the lone accusation of one malcontent who-"

There was a loud smacking sound.

"Enough from the prisoner!" A deep voice said. "Quite frankly, Violet Nall has been undermining the authority of the Lord Provider, the Overseer, for over a decade. These latest incidents are only the most recent examples of this lurid behavior."

"It is well known that acts of sexual aggression are reserved to service units," Violet said. "Am I to be reprimanded for enforcing the rules of Overseer Tycho?"

"One of my men is dead. One we can barely afford to lose during the harvest."

"Is there any evidence that I or any of my staff had anything to do with his demise?"

The short, sniveling man wheezed as he walked in front of the three men seated in front of them. In the center sat Overseer Tycho, the imposing man who reigned over the entire colony.

He looked significantly altered from the few scant posters portraying him. His hair, thick and vibrant when represented, thinned to a small patch at the back. His eyebrows thick, always arched as he considered carefully the statements those presenting their cases.

The only thing that seemed identical to the propaganda was a distinctive mustache, a bushy, beastly cultivation that curled over his upper lip. He grimaced as he listened, as if annoyed at the imposition. Even while sitting, Tycho seemed smaller, hunched over, his eyes bleary with permanent black bags under his eyes.

Directly across from the judges sat Violet and Rigel, facing forward to the panel. In between them, the inquisitor paced, making his case against the supervisor of milk production. There was no one speaking on her behalf. Violet sat alone, her arms and legs restrained in her seat as the man moved close to question her.

Gwendolyn had never seen the ruling caste of Epsilon 7. Unlike any other inhabitant, every man in front of her lived with an unusually full belly. Even so, none of them looked the picture of health. Their shoulders slouched, their arms and legs were short and weak, their stomachs paunchy.

She felt ready to move and found her neck restricted. Two guards, lean yet muscular, wordlessly held her in place with long plastisteel poles attached to a sort of guard collar. Gwendolyn tried to speak, only to find her mouth gagged. Along with these safeguards, her legs and hands had been tied to her seat across from the spectacle.

"Again your eminence, it is not my task to provide evidence that proves Miss Nall guilty. Under our most ancient of codes, it is enough to show a sustainable threat to society in the existence of unorthodox thoughts from a subject."

"Where is this threat?" Violet interjected. "In a dead violator of the Overseer's Code? In the self-stimulation of a gaggle of undersexed milk maids? In the discipline of an underperforming subordinate by making her provide the resources necessary to make up a quota?"

"Mistress Nall, your own subordinate has provided testimony indicating a tainted milk supply, something capable of controlling behavior. You are caught in the act! Apprehended taking unprecedented measures to tamper with the colony's supply of milk."

"This relies on testimony-"

The inquisitor continued.

"I again return to the questions Mistress Nall has not answered. If the product from this milk maid was innocuous, why make an effort to segregate the substance from the larger milk vats? Why wasn't she connected to the main tank?"

"I have already provided the answer to that. The milk yield of Gwendolyn had not yet been-"

"Had not yet been verified to be up to the standards expected of the pastures? Yes, we heard you the first time. And yet, this substandard milk was good enough to provide to your staff?"

"I have understood myself to be in complete control of the dietary needs of the milk maids for the past fifteen rotations."

"You are," the inquisitor smiled. "And yet, despite your insistence that this extreme and unprecedented milking was entirely punitive, you again interceded to prevent an assault of this woman you would punish only moments later?"

"Only I have the authority to discipline my staff," Violet answered.

"And isn't that becoming a problem?"

The inquisitor seized on the sentiment, knowing his audience. He strolled back and forth, knowing that his target had done most of the work for him. The Overseer only need to be reminded that this woman represented a threat to his authority. That she stood as an outlier, her existence enough to undermine him.

"Your eminence, if I may reach my conclusion," the inquisitor said. "Violet Nall's authority over a major industry has become problematic. Perhaps the death of a perfectly healthy laborer, just as he targets the Supervisor's favorite is coincidental. Perhaps it is also coincidental that this favorite is then twice used in unprecedented ways to produce unnecessary milk. But in her years as Supervisor, Violet Nall has never done anything unnecessary."

The inquisitor let the word linger, before starting again.

"I cannot prove the exact details of our plot," He said. "But the Supervisor has been known to delve into our archives. Should she have stumbled upon the source of our enemy's mental power, there would be nothing we could do to stop it, nothing to detect it even in a diluted form."

"Overseer Tycho," Violet interjected. "Each cycle I have produced has seen an increase of yields by at least 28 percent. When the pastures began, we had one barely functioning farm. Now there are thirteen. The milk maids in the room before you are two underperforming subordinates. As you know, responsibility and authority comes with malcontents and graspers..."

She looked at the inquisitor.

"This is not the first instance in which a colonist has used my success as cause for complaint. Nor will it be the last."

Tycho's lips broadend in a soft, cruel smile.

"There, I fear you are mistaken, Violet," He said. "Though I do not possess the same physical relationship you shared with some of my predecessors, in the past four rotations of my tenure as Overseer, I have gotten to know you very well. You are hiding something..."

"Overseer Tycho, I have been-" Violet stated calmly.

"Completely candid?" He said. "I do not think so. You work so hard to create this indifferent illusion, but I've seen enough to know you care for those under your supervision. This cruelty to a new recruit who comes up only marginally short of a yield? It's more than unprecedented. It's not in keeping with your character. The Violet Nall I've known, would have placed herself in front of an underachieving subordinated, not merited out an unnecessary punishment."

Violet tried to talk again.

"Gag her," The overseer said. "I've heard enough."

Two guards, standing on the door, ready obliged. Violet, with a dignified coolness, did not bother to struggle as the rag was tied into her face.

The inquisitor smirked, only to have Tycho turn on him.

"Avoid looking so smug. These are not your arguments. Had I depended on your opinion, I might have let her go."

He moved out from behind the desk, deliberately taking each step as he moved in front of Violet.

"The real question is, do I need you anymore?" Tycho said. "There has been nothing exceptional about your recent innovations. I think one of your senior staff members will have no trouble filling the position, and the yields you're so proud of will keep increasing."

Her eyes met his as he bent over, Tycho's pudgy fingers reaching around her chin.

"So I'm going to find out what you know the hard way," He said. "But first, I'm going to find out what Overseer Marcian seemed to enjoy so much about you."

He turned to the guards in the room.

"Take her to the service center," Tycho boomed.

Violet refused to give him the satisfaction of any response.

"Oh I know I can't fuck you hard enough," Tycho said, his fingers tracing down her neck. "I'm just going to go first. Then I'm going to let every man on the colony take his turn. You'd be surprised how many have cultivated a particular fetish for you..."

He reached down, gently squeezing her breasts as Gwendolyn thrashed uselessly against her restraints. Tycho turned, hearing the clatter of the milk maid.

"Bring her too," He said dismissively. "Maybe she'll have something to add whenever Mistress Nall is ready for our conversation."

10

The plastisteel stockade positioned Violet perfectly for the vile acts about to performed upon her. She lowered her head into the half-moon hole without being prompted, with the dignity of an ancient aristocrat sentenced to execution. Her hands restricted on either side, the device forced her to slouch down, her face waist level for any man impatient enough to take her mouth.

Her legs dangled out behind her, barely able to find secure footing at this angle. There was little to remind the dozen or so men in the crowd of Violet's authority. With her head facing downward, the only distinctive aspect was her long, dark purple hair. Violet didn't display any emotion, nor could Gwendolyn call out to her. The Overseer was taking every precaution against her, keeping her bound and gagged.

The service pits stood outside the central hub of the colony. Common practice was for men to take their turns with whatever girl had been selected as a service unit at the direction of their foreman. Men who worked hard, who had shown tremendous initiative, or who had curried a favorite status were given time during their shift to relieve themselves in the nearby shelter.

A competent foremen knew to parcel out these rewards with a random sort of consistency. Laborers, working in twelve to fourteen hour shifts in the thin air of the terraformed rock, needed their release. In any sort of caste, enormous deprivation will be accepted, so long as there is another lower rung beneath to avoid through subservience. The women of the colony, breeders, hucows, and especially service units gave these men something to be thankful for: being born with a y chromosome.

Every man needed release at some point. And so no matter how weak or useless the worker, each took their turn until a service unit was completely used up. At a certain point, even the sex-crazed certins of the colony would tire of the wretched woman. Then her broken battered body would be thrown to the creature.

This wasn't the same sordid affair that the colony expected. Tycho was conscious about actually exposing himself to his subjects. And so around him stood only an inner entourage, his council, and those in charge of his security. He waddled up behind Violet, pulling down his trousers, exposing an undersized cock.

Violet couldn't see what was about to happen to her, though she must have felt those soft, nearly unused hands pulling up the hem of her uniform, exposing her ample ass cheeks. He moved closer, the wide head of his cock making contact with her round, white cheeks, foreshadowing the forced fuck. It was torture, and yet Violet made no noise through her gag.

Gwendolyn stared ahead in horror as the Overseer drove himself into her lover. His hands gripped the wider parts of Violet's thighs, grunting as he forced her legs apart. She could see the cellulite on his gargantuan butt flabbing as he worked himself deeper inside of her. Gwendolyn tried to scream, shout, to do anything to stop this. Her headache burned, she struggled against her restraints

STOP! STOP!

And then..

DIE!

Only Tycho continued his relentless assault on her pussy, his hips making a loud thwacking sound that echoed against the chamber walls as he pounded his way inside of her.

"How does that feel?" Tycho said. "Do you feel like a special woman now?"

Violet couldn't answer, the gag remained in her mouth.

"I've wanted to fuck you for so long," Tycho said, his voice heavy, panting. "It's been worth the wait."

He kept moving against her, despite Gwendolyn's attempt to stop the violent rape unfolding in front of her eyes.

"God, you're so tight. I wonder if all your milk maids are the same. I guess I'll just have to find out."

Despite his rotund frame, Tycho seemed determined to make the most out of his experience. He pulled all the way out, his hands falling to his knees as he inhaled desperate breaths. Then he rammed himself forward again, his merely average sized member disappearing completely into her vagina.

"I wonder how long its been since you've had another man's cum in you?"

He let out a loud grunt, his hips stopping as he pushed one final time into Violet. He spasmed, and his balls emptied his vile seed inside of Violet. She maintained her position, showing no emotion, no distress as he pulled out of her. A few drops of cum poured out from her abused hole, dripping down her legs and onto the cold floor.

"Let's see what you have to say now," Tycho said, out of breath. He went to the other side of his victim, removing her gag. Tycho bent down, looking Violet square in the eyes, inches away from him.

"It can be over pretty easy," Tycho said. "Just tell me what you were up to and we can make an arrangement. You're still pretty, and my council could use another service unit. Or keep silent. I'm sure our laborers would love a turn inside your stuck up cunt."

"Whoever does the hair for your posters, should also do an imagining of your dick. At least then girls might be disappointed at its size."

Tycho forced a smile.

"I wonder how long you'll be able to maintain your insolence," He said. "My guess is after twenty or thirty times, you'll be ready to talk."

"If they are all the same size as yours," Violet said. "I wonder if I'll even know it happened."

Tycho made a motion, and another overweight council member took his turn. He aimed his cock a little higher, forcing his way forward into her ass. At first, his member barely pushed through the tighter opening. He reared back, again finding his footing before figuring out the right angle to manage his leverage.

Violet bit down on her lip, trying to keep her face from showing any other reaction as the man buried himself inside her sphincter. She willed her body to relax, knowing that no confession could buy her freedom. She relaxed her asshole, letting the man piston himself in and out of her. She then squeezed, trying to hurry along the process, keeping her mind focused on the only card she had left to play.