The Rebellious Slave Ch. 03byHisPet21©
To my readers: Thanks again for all the feedback and comments, they inspire me to continue! I promise that, as the story gets more in depth, the chapters will get significantly longer.
Once more shackled, Kara sat in the back of the silver van, watching the trees fly by its tinted windows. Beside her, sobbing uncontrollably, sat the bound violinist, who Mr. Charthe had also chosen to purchase. She was a young women, probably in her early twenties, and big chested, with olive skin, dark hair, and bright hazel eyes. It had been hours since they'd started the drive towards the Martkorp outlet, and she hadn't stopped crying since. It was amazing to Kara that her tears hadn't run dry yet or her throat grown sore. And at first, Kara had sympathized with the young women. How awful, she wondered, would it be to reach the status of a concert level violinist, only to be reduced to a slave in the wake of an unjust and untimely war? But after sometime, the violinist's sobs, only partially muffled by the filthy gag in her mouth, became extremely irritating. Kara tried to remind herself that it wasn't the poor girl's fault, but wouldn't there be plenty of misery to appreciate later? Kara wanted to enjoy the trees and the grass and the rolling hills, as they lit up with the sunrise, without having wet, shaking sobs serve as a sound track.
They approached a grey, concrete building, largely unimpressive, which was surrounded by a tall, metal gate. If it weren't for the sign out front, Kara would have never guessed it belonged to Martkorp. Two armed guards, stationed at the gate's main entrance, waved the van to a stop and checked Mr. Charthe's employee badge before letting them through. Slowly, they circled around to the back of the building, until they reached a plain, metal doorway and the two slaves were escorted from the back of the van into a crisp, white room, smelling strongly of antiseptic. It was brightly lit with fluorescent bulbs, and was mostly bare, with the exception of some conspicuous shackles hanging from the ceiling, a few stools, a sink, and a shower head, without the rest of the shower. Coleman locked the metal doorway behind them, and the two slaves waited anxiously in the center of the room, while Coleman looked on and Mr. Charthe smoked. Kara tried to work the irritating gag out of her mouth using her tongue. It tasted like gasoline and dirt.
"Not in my clinic, Glen!" Kara heard the slamming of a door behind her, and turned to see a tall, white faced women in a lab coat snatching away Mr. Charthe's cigarette and stamping it out. "How many times have I told you? Not in my clinic; it's disgusting!" She was beautiful, with long, flowing locks of raven black hair, cold darkened eyes, and deep red lips. She wore an excessive amount of jewelry, Kara noted, her eyes drawn to a mismatched set of bracelets traveling up each slender arm. The women stopped in front of Mr. Charthe's two new acquisitions, and her face dropped with disappointment, then reddened with anger. "Is this what you got for me, Glen?" She gestured wildly, first at Kara and then at her fellow captive.
Mr. Charthe backed away defensively. "Look, it was the best I could do last minute. The one on the left is a concert level violinist, that's got to count for something, right? It's a selling point at least, a more than marketable skill. I'm lucky to have gotten what I did from Captly---"
The women clenched her fists by her sides, her voice tense. "You went to Captly?!? Jesus Christ, Glen! The hell were you thinking?"
"Look," Mr. Charthe growled, his voice growing threatening. "Captly Inc. was the only other distributor in the area, and this is what they had available."
"It'll be embarrassing," the women sighed. "They'll stick out."
"Not as much as two empty slots would. We've got enough interesting pieces to keep tomorrow's auction impressive. I doubt anyone will be disappointed."
The women swung around to face Kara, determined to find a new source for her rage. "And what about this one?" The women didn't take her ominous eyes off Kara, even as she spoke to Mr. Charthe. "She any good? What did she do for a living?"
Kara's gag finally loosened and fell down around her neck. The women stared at her, waiting for an answer. "I was a military medic," she replied, terse.
"Even worse," the women groaned, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. "A fucking medic...Fabulous."
You're a "fucking medic," Kara thought, anticipating a suspected medical exam, but she was smart enough not to say it.
"At least she's military, I think we can justify that, Catherine." Kara took note of the women's name. "We'll make it work," Mr. Charthe continued. "Like I said, we've got a solid eighteen high quality pieces. It'll be nice to have a novelty or two thrown in for contrast, and good measure. If they don't get sold, we can raffle them off as door prizes or something."
The violinist, who had been quite since they'd entered the building---probably out of sheer nervousness---began to sob again, and Kara couldn't blame her. She didn't like being referred to as a door prize, either. And what sorts of slaves, Kara wondered, were they selling? Apparently, Kara and the violinist paled in comparison, and while Kara wasn't exactly a super model, she wasn't bad looking either. The violinist, if nothing else, would be prized for her natural D cups. It bothered Kara that they were being demoted to human goody bags, but she shrugged the feeling off. Martkorp had very high standards. Now that she thought about, she wouldn't be surprised if all eighteen prized pieces being auctioned off were first class chef supermodels, who had learned erotic dance in their spare time, and could also sing opera. You never knew.
"Alright," the women, Catherine, groaned, resigning herself to the situation. "It is what it is." She turned sympathetically to the violinist and in an instant her face turned from one of rage to one of charm. "There, there, honey. There's no need to cry. Have a seat," she motioned to a nearby stool and allowed the violinist to sit down. "Calm down. We aren't going to hurt you, I promise. Okay?" She smiled endearingly, and the violinist quieted, then nodded. From monstrous to motherly in no time flat, Kara thought, impressed. This Catherine knew how to approach her work. "Coleman," Catherine hissed, "Take that filthy oil rag out of her mouth. It's down right gross what those Captly people do with their merchandise."
Then the women turned to Kara. "You going to give me any trouble, girl? I'll take the cuffs off if you promise to cooperate, but one toe out of line, and they'll go back on. No second chances. Can you promise me that you'll be obedient?"
Kara nodded, then said quietly, "My name is Kara, but yes, madam. I'll cooperate." She wasn't going to escape now, not in a well guarded processing center during a medical work up. If she had to endure this, might as well do so with her hands free. She might even be able to grab onto and hide some sort of weapon, even a rusty paperclip was better than nothing. With a nod from Catherine, Coleman undid Kara's cuffs as well, and she brought her hands tentatively in front of her, then rubbed the sore wrists gingerly. The Martkorp leather cuffs were more comfortable than Captly's metal ones, but they were still irritating.
"Okay, then, Kara. Pants off, please." After Mr. Charthe's earlier inspection, there was no shirt or bra left to remove.
Kara moved her hands to her belt buckle, began to undo the clip, then looked up and saw that her eyes met Mr. Charthe's. He looked lustfully down at the "V" of her jeans, and Kara redid her her belt buckle defensively. "He doesn't have to be here, does he?" She looked over at Catherine, hoping for some pity from her fellow women kind. There was none.
"No, sweety, he doesn't need to be here," Catherine explained. "But he wants to be here, and you don't get to call the shots in my clinic, I do. Now, take the pants off, or I'll take them off for your. Glen will probably be watching either way. Your call."
Glaring at Mr. Charthe, whose triumphant grin was even more obnoxious than the hard on rising in his pants, Kara reluctantly let her jeans fall to the ground, then her light blue panties. There was a puff of dark hair curling around the soft lips of her pussy. Before the war, Kara had kept herself well shaven. She liked the naked feel of her her bare mound and clit, as they rubbed against the inside of her jeans. But there wasn't exactly time to shave your groin when you were busy fleeing for your life, and the little bush had grown back. Her legs must be disgusting. She looked down at them. Yup. Disgusting.
"She'll need some hair laser removal," Catherine mused, reflecting Kara's thoughts. "Alright, girl, legs spread and hands behind your head, fingers interlocking. Don't move." As she spread her legs, Kara could feel Mr. Charthe's eyes on her petite mound, and flushed red in agony. She tried not to look at him, or his horrible grin, but he made sure to stay in her field of view, taking great pleasure in her compromising position. Catherine circled Kara slowly, making little tick marks and notes on a clip board, musing out load as Kara involuntarily burned with humiliation. She felt like and insect on a slide, every inch of her body being probed by Catherine's eyes and, more importantly, Mr. Charthe's. Catherine stopped at Kara's left side, where a nasty bruise colored the skin, a reminder of Calvin's night stick and the evening of her capture. "You know I won't be able to get rid of this by tomorrow, right, Glen?" She traced the outline of the bruise with her pen. "But I can probably bring the swelling down." Kara was circled some more, and the straightening of a tooth was added to her list of "corrective measures" as was the treatment of a small, but prominent burn along her left calf. When asked about the burn, Kara was evasive. "Fire and I don't mix well," she'd said simply, and Catherine probed no further.
"She'll need a spinal implant and a registration number tattooed onto her shoulder, of course," Catherine noted on her clipboard, and Kara twitched. She had known it was coming, but the thought of a tracking implant, buried along the spinal column, was a terrifying notion. Even as a medic, she'd never be able to remove the implant herself, to perform surgery that delicate on her own back. If she ever did escape this, she'd have to pay out the nose to have it removed, and that was assuming she'd make it very far at all. Her master would be able to program her implant into his or her household security system, and if she left unattended, would immediately be altered. Stupid ass technology...
"You a virgin?" Catherine inquired, poised above her clipboard, her face betraying intense interest. Virgins would be more valuable, after all.
"No," Kara sneered, happy to disappoint. "Believe it or not, I got quite a bit of action back in Gardok during the war. If you're surrounded by soldiers with muscular asses and rock hard abs, you take advantage of that perk."
Catherine appeared shocked by the blunt response, then laughed heartily. "Amen to men with abs, honey. And there's no denying the power of a nice ass. Yours isn't too shabby, either." Catherine grabbed Kara's left cheek and squeezed appreciatively, and instinctively, Kara removed her hands from her head and slapped her. In the face. As soon as she'd done it, Kara knew it was a mistake. Even Mr. Charthe looked appalled, and as Catherine looked up at her, she could see dangerous intention in the woman's eyes.
Kara frantically tried to apologize, to undo the damage. "I am so sorry, madam. Please forgive me, it's just these circumstances---"
"Be quite," Catherine hissed. "Put your hands back on your head, girl. And this time, keep them there, or I'm done trying to be nice to you." Apprehensively, Kara obeyed, surprised it wasn't worse for her. Maybe she'd be given another chance to be obedient, and stay untied.
But Catherine didn't stop with a caress of Kara's ass, and decided to test her authority further. To Kara's abject horror, Catherine ran her hand over the mound of Kara's pussy, and began to rub her clit, slowly at first, allowing heat to build between the poor slave's legs. The evil women grinned at Kara devilishly, daring her to move. And Kara understood. Catherine was looking for an excuse to abuse her. There were probably rules prohibiting poor treatment of the merchandise unless there was more than one instance of disobedience. It took all of Kara's will power not to back away. She couldn't lose this test of will. But Catherine, realizing she'd lost the first round, decided to take the challenge further, sliding two fingers into Kara's pussy, hooking both fingers to rub the small of her G-Spot. Kara cringed. "This isn't necessary," she hissed.
Catherine grinned. "My clinic, my rules. I don't care if it isn't necessary, bitch. You can't move, and don't you even think of slapping me again." She pulled on Kara's clit as she finger fucked her, making her wince with the pain. "You know, I have my own girl at home, and she loves a good finger fuck, but her ass is even more slutty." The woman withdrew her now wet fingers from her captive's pussy and reached back behind her ass, pushing into it. Kara pulled away, then immediately regretted it. A triumphant grin grew across Catherine's face, and she motioned for Coleman to come over and cuff her. Damn it!
"Look! I promise to hold still, I swear! I am very, very sorry!" Kara got on her knees to beg. She needed to try and keep herself free, and now she'd fucked it all up. If she were cuffed, she'd lose all hope of finding a weapon or a point of escape.
Catherine ignored her pleas. "Coleman, hang this insolent bitch up. I want to make it very clear how all of this works."
"Wait, no, I am very, very sorry!" The muscular hunter, ever quite, grabbed Kara by the hair and pulled to her feet, towards the shackles embedded in the ceiling. And for the first time since the night of her capture, it finally sunk in that Kara was a slave, and her captors could do whatever they wished. Well, the Martkorp employees couldn't do whatever they wanted, at least not without being fired, but still...Kara's heart raced in terror as her arms were shackled above her head, and her legs were spread by a long, metal bar with ankle cuffs on either end. "For the love of god, it was an accident!" she screeched.
"Careful with her, Catherine," Mr. Charthe warned, tentatively. He seemed afraid of the woman. "You don't want to damage the merchandise. I'd leave the ass alone. She doesn't appear to be a virgin from both ends."
"The bitch slapped me, Glen. And she failed to follow the same direction, twice. I've got authority to punish her a little. Don't worry, I won't leave any marks." She turned sinisterly to Kara, and the violinist started crying again, but Catherine ignored her. She turned to what appeared to be a cabinet high above the sink, but when she opened it, a white mist drifted out. It occurred to Kara that it was probably a freezer, used to store blood samples for later analysis. This was, after all, a clinic. After rooting around for a moment, Catherine removed what appeared to be a blue, cylindrical cold pack, a few inches in diameter and maybe six inches long. Still wearing a horrible grin, Catherine walked over to Kara and, with one hand, deliberately parted the lips of her captive's pussy. With the other, she slid the frozen length up in Kara's cunt.
Kara cursed, and inhaled sharply. The cold pack didn't look very sinister, but buried deep into her loins, it burned. She could feel her body straining to push it out, pressure welling up inside her, the frozen mass unbearably foreign. Catherine pulled the cold pack out a little ways, relieving some of the pain, then shoved the length of it back into Kara's pussy, so that she once again cursed. It hurt a lot more than she imagined it would. Her pussy was used to being kept warm. She'd never had anything frozen up inside her before. "Sadistic bitch," she hissed, and Catherine twisted her clit between her fingers, pinching the sensitive flesh until, it too, burned. Slowly, she increased the speed with which she fucked her captive, watching Kara wince with each powerful thrust. It was certainly painful for the girl, Catherine noted, but not quite an effective punishment. Since she couldn't do anything worse to her, physically, she'd have to amp up the humiliation factor. She pulled the cold pack out of Kara's pussy, and heard her sigh in relief.
"You, girl!" Catherine turned toward the violinist, and she immediately stopped sobbing, mid-choke. "Lick it," Catherine sneered, pushing away curling hairs and plump pussy lips to reveal Kara's swelling clitoris. The violinist looked shocked for a moment, but unwilling to endure Kara's fate, walked up and knelt between Kara's legs. Catherine clearly enjoyed the horrified look on Kara's face.
"Leave her out of this," Kara screeched. "You sick, twisted perverts! Leave her out of this!" The violinist wrapped her arms around each of Kara's outer thighs for balance, grasped each ass cheek firmly, and gently stuck out her small, pink tongue. Kara looked between her legs and flushed with absolute humiliation as the girl tentatively licked her clit. Kara felt beyond violated, perhaps because she was forced into another slave's sexual submission. She strained against her bonds, trying to pull away.
"It's not an ice cream cone, idiot!" Catherine sneered, pushing the olive skinned slave's face into Kara's pussy. "I want you to eat her cunt. Go on! I want to see your lips wrapped all the way around her mound. I want your tongue pushing into her pussy."
"For the love of god!" Kara cried, as she felt her entire mons engulfed by the violinist's warm, wet mouth. Then, the young girl's tongue pushed into her opening and she turned pleading eyes toward Catherine. "Please, stop! Please! For the love of god, this isn't right!" The violinist's warm tongue snaked along the immediate entrance to her cunt, relieving some of the cold from earlier, and she could feel her clit begin to tingle with pleasure. No! She would not let herself enjoy this! But the girl between her legs began to lick and suck viciously, drooling all over her labia, making her face turn red with lust. She sucked Kara's clit into her mouth and pushed a finger, then three, into her pussy and began to fuck her, fast. Kara could feel the girl's long nails biting into her flesh and winced. Heat continued to build between her legs and to her terror, she could feel the wetness of her cunt start to run down her legs. Her body trembled. Suddenly, Catherine grabbed the back of the violinist's hair, and tossed her to the ground, then followed it up with a hard, deliberate smack against Kara's pussy.
"That's enough," she hissed, turning to the violinist. "The merchandise isn't allowed come the day before an auction." And, in a moment, Kara felt her self suddenly shivering in cold streams of water. She was below the shower head. Catherine turned up the pressure of the water, and the cold worsened, hitting hard against her back. "You're disgusting," she sneered. "Look at me!" She grabbed Kara's now wet hair, and forced her to stare into her face. "Your legs are filthy! You're covered in drool and cunt lube! I can't have you prepped for auction like that." She turned toward a door, leading farther into the building, opened it, and shouted to an unseen assistant. "Kevin, get the fuck in here. I need you to clean up this whore and her cunt!"