Chained (Brides of the Kindred) (24 page)

“He got her implanted with a slut
button—same as yours.
Then
she showed enthusiasm—you damn well better
believe it,” Sura said grimly. “She begged and pleaded from morning ‘til night,
wanting to service him.”

“But…why?”

Sura laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet? If she didn’t, the desire got so bad she
couldn’t stand it. You should have seen her on days the master didn’t want
her—crying and groping between her thighs like her pussy was one fire and she
had no way to put it out.”

“Oh my God,” Maggie said faintly. “You’re
kidding—you
have
to be kidding, right?”

“Nope. Sometimes he took pity on her and
let her suck his cock or rub against his fingers to ease the pain. Sometimes he
just let her suffer—as a lesson to us all.”

Maggie felt ill. “Please,” she whispered.
“I can’t…this can’t be right. I’m not supposed to be here. This can’t be
happening to me.”

“Well, it is,” Sura said shortly. “Sorry
to be the one to give you the bad news but I figured you’d rather know than
find out on your own when the button really gets going. Look, maybe you’ll get
lucky and find a master who wants to take you every day.”

“Seriously? That would make me
lucky?”
Maggie’s head swam. Having a master who wanted to rape her daily would be a
fortunate
turn of events?

“Luckiest thing for a girl with an implant
like that.” Sura yawned. “Look, just keep it covered, all right? I need my
sleep. Have to look my best tomorrow if I’m going to get a halfway decent master.
Don't want some buster who hit it rich with a lucky lotto tix and wants to try
the high life with his very own love slave.”

“But I—”

“Good night,” Sura said firmly.

There were restless shifting sounds from
the other corner and then the sound of soft, steady breathing. Apparently her
fellow slave-in-waiting had gone to sleep.

Maggie wanted to ask her more, wanted to
wake her up and demand more answers to the awful questions that were crowding
her brain. But her tongue seemed as numb and frozen as the area below her
naval.

What was she going to do?

Chapter Twenty-one

Early the next morning Maggie and her
fellow slaves—it turned out there were more than a dozen—were washed and
dressed and herded through a long narrow corridor into a vast room the size of
a football stadium. It had a high, vaulted ceiling and was filled with…well,
Maggie didn’t know what it was filled with because all she could see were
colorful blurs.

From the sounds she heard it seemed to be
some kind of a marketplace. Vendors called from every corner, trying to attract
the attention of buyers.

“Fresh meat! Slaves so fresh they’ve never
felt the touch of a master’s hand before.”

“Lovely little virgins! Just captured the
lot of them on Caprika Three. Every one untouched!”

“Proper, obedient females, ready and
willing to cater to your every whim.” That voice seemed to come from the thin
green alien Lady Pope’nose had called Zamir. Maggie shivered as she heard him
shout, advertising her and the rest of the women in her group as though they
were so many cuts of meat.

And a cut of fresh meat was exactly what
she felt like. She was wearing nothing more than a thin ribbon around her
breasts—a bright red band that barely covered her nipples and left the rest of
her bare. Lower down she had a tiny red skirt which didn’t even come down to
her thighs. The skirt covered her pussy—barely
—
which was a good thing
since she had no panties on
.
Her midsection was also naked, showing off
the blinking red ruby firmly lodged in her naval.

As if her outfit—or lack thereof—wasn’t
bad enough, she was also positioned for display. Her arms were stretched above
her head, chained in place to keep her exposed and her thighs were spread wide,
allowing anyone who wanted to come by and flip up her skirt to “check out the wares.”

The pedestal she’d been forced to kneel on
was white stone with a thin red pad that barely cushioned her bare knees.
Maggie shifted restlessly, trying to ease the pressure but if she moved too
much or failed to keep her legs open, Zamir shocked her with the little wand
he’d used to activate her “slut button.”

The wand seemed to act as a kind of taser.
It made her gasp with pain but the pain was an almost welcome relief from the unquenchable
desire throbbing between her legs.

The sexual need had begun when she woke up
from a broken sleep that morning and had been slowly growing throughout the
day. It seemed to have a correlation with the ruby implant, which was blinking
faster and faster. And with each blink came a pulse of pleasure, buzzing
through her clit, making her helplessly hot and wet.

Maggie never would have believed that too
much pleasure could be a bad thing but she was rapidly finding out that having
constant stimulation without gratification was the worst kind of torture. With
each little jolt, her nipples got harder and her pussy got wetter but no matter
how hot she got, she wasn’t able to reach any kind of orgasm. It was
torture
.

Not that she wanted to orgasm in a room
full of strangers, Maggie told herself. Not at first, anyway. But after a
couple of hours of the slut button working on her, she thought she would have
done anything for some relief. If her hands hadn’t been chained above her head,
she would have been groping between her thighs, just like the woman Sura had
described. It wouldn’t have done her any good though—no matter how hard she
tried, she couldn’t feel her own touch from her lower pelvis to her upper
thighs.

The jewel in her belly button blinked
again and another jolt of pleasure raced through her quivering pussy. Maggie squeezed
her eyes shut and held back a whimper of pure distress. God, would this ever
end? Or would she be doomed to live the rest of her life in unfulfilled desire
so intense it made her ache inside and out?

“Now here’s a nice specimen,” Zamir’s
voice said to her right. “Very fresh—just plucked this little flower on Yonnie
Six, though I understand that’s not her planet of origin.”

Maggie set her jaw and got ready to endure
the coming inspection. After being here for several hours, she already knew the
drill. The customer would want to examine her—her teeth, her breasts—and
probably flip up her skirt to see her crotch as well. Luckily for her, Zamir
usually kept the contact to a minimum—he said he was trying to keep his
merchandize “fresh”—but it was still humiliating to be looked over like a prize
pony someone was looking to buy.

“Interesting.” The prospective buyer was
huge but that was about all Maggie could tell about him. He seemed to be draped
all in black including his face—was he wearing a mask? It seemed that he must
be because his deep voice was oddly distorted. “Where does she come from?” he
asked.

Zamir shrugged. “A small blue and green
planet on the far arm of a nearby spiral galaxy. I think her people call it
‘Earth.’”

A large hand encased in a black leather
glove lifted Maggie’s chin.

“And is she eager to please? I won’t have
a frigid bed slave.”

“More than eager, good sir! May I draw
your attention to her midsection—observe the implant you can see there.”

“Implant? What the hell is that?” the man
demanded.

“It’s a Denari Eroticus—top of the line, I
assure you. This one was grown with great care for six solar months until it
was ripe enough to be activated. The activation occurred only last week and the
subject has been in stasis again until last night. So you’d be the first male
to have the full benefit of its…ah
influence.”

“What the hell?” the man muttered. “Does
it come out?”

“Never,” Zamir assured him. “This species
is bred and engineered on the Dragon’s Mouth in the Maw Cluster and it’s quite
permanent—it will live as long as its host unless removed by its maker.”

“Damn,” the man muttered. “Of all the
fucking—”

“Excuse me? Is there a problem?” Zamir sounded
offended. “Most of my customers
like
the idea of an implant. It makes a
slave so much more
eager
to please.”

“I’m sure it fucking does,” the man said
harshly. But though his voice was rough, his hand was gentle. The black leather
glove slid around to cup Maggie’s cheek and then moved lower, tracing the curve
of her neck and her collar bone.

Maggie shivered as the large gloved hand
moved even lower, cupping the curve of her right breast and thumbing the nipple
lightly through the thin scarlet ribbon she wore.

“My apologies, good sir,” Zamir said
smoothly. “But I must ask you not to over handle the merchandise. She must be
kept fresh if she’s to be sold.”

“You don’t need to worry about that—I’ll
buy her,” the man said. “I just want to know how responsive she is…how this
damn implant thing you’ve got in her is affecting her.”

He stroked her nipple again and then
pinched it lightly, sending sparks of pain and pleasure through her
over-stimulated system. Maggie bit her lip, trying desperately to stifle a cry.
God, it was
humiliating
that a total stranger could get this response
from her so easily. She was sure it was because of the slut button implant—it
seemed to blink even faster when the man touched her, making her completely
unable to help her reaction to him.

And yet, though she hated her response to
him, the way he was touching her seemed to help. It fed the cravings that had
been steadily growing inside her all morning, since she’d woken up with the
ruby implant blinking steadily. Maggie bit her lip and pressed her breast
against his hand, mutely begging for more.

“Poor little female,” the man growled
softly. “Is it hurting you, this damn thing they put in you? Is it giving you
needs too great to bear?”

“That
is
the idea of the implant,
sir,” Zamir cut in. “It stimulates the subject until her need is so great she
feels actual physical pain. She will do
anything
to slake the lust and
every touch you give her eases the burden just a little. Her lust also eases every
time you allow
her
to touch
you
so if you’re a male who enjoys
frequent oral stimulation…”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the man snapped
at Zamir. “And any male who puts a fucking implant in his woman to make her
give him Goddess damned blow jobs all day long—”

He didn’t finish because Maggie couldn’t
help moaning again. The feel of his big, gloved hand against her breast was
good but the need was still burning inside her. The ruby was still pulsing,
sending waves of desire to her pussy which was swollen and hot between her
thighs.

“Poor little female,” the man growled
again. His large, gloved hand traveled lower and Maggie felt a mixture of shame
and lust as he flipped up her skirt. “So damn wet,” she heard him mutter.

She wanted to cry with embarrassment but
she somehow managed to keep her mouth shut and her chin high.
It’s not my
fault,
she told herself.
It’s this damn implant. I would never be in
this…this state otherwise.

But it was hard not to feel ashamed at the
wash of pleasure she felt when the man cupped her pussy. Maggie could feel the
heat of his palm, even through the black leather glove. She tried her best not
to react but she couldn’t help it—she could
feel
his hand! After not
feeling her own fingers when she had tried to touch herself, it seemed like
magic. Her body was crying out that this was
exactly
what she needed.

With a low moan, she thrust against his
hand, rubbing hard against his palm, seeking some relief from the constant
cycle of unrelenting desire and unfulfilled pleasure.

The man in black uttered a hoarse curse as
she rubbed against him but he didn’t pull away. Instead he stepped closer,
until the black cloak he wore shielded her from view, enclosing them both in a
small, private space that seemed to shut out the rest of the busy marketplace.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he murmured
in a low voice for Maggie’s ears alone. “Don’t be ashamed—take what you need.”

He slipped two fingers between her pussy
lips and bracketed her swollen clit. Then he simply cupped her firmly and held
still, letting Maggie rub against his hand, giving her the stimulation she so
desperately needed.

Maggie closed her eyes as she worked her
hips, finding a rhythm that would finally bring her to completion. She was
filled with shame and yet unable to help her response. It occurred to her,
dimly, that the man was helping her—that he was giving her a way to reach a climax
with as much privacy as was possible in this noisy, crowded place. But she was
too filled with shame and desire to have much room left over for gratitude.

At last, Maggie felt herself tipping over
the edge. The man stood there, his hand between her legs, watching silently as
her orgasm whipped through her. It was a sudden, violent event that nearly made
her scream with its intensity. Maggie bit her lip but she couldn’t hold back a cry
of unwilling pleasure—it was too much to keep inside. Too much to bear without
making a sound.

But though the orgasm was good, it wasn’t
enough. Maggie moaned in frustration as the implant pulsed inside her,
demanding something more…something
deeper
.

The man seemed to understand how she was
feeling.

“Not enough, is it?” he murmured, looking
down at her. “What more do you need?”

Maggie couldn’t answer—her shame was too
deep. But she could hear Zamir talking from behind the man’s broad back.

“The longer the subject is left without
relief, the greater the effort required to slake her need. I’ve had her chained
here for hours, letting the implant build its cycle. Stimulation without
penetration will only prolong her suffering.”

“Get back,” the man snarled at him.
“You’ll get your credit in a minute but leave me in peace for now.”

“My apologies, sir.” Zamir’s voice became
fainter and Maggie sensed they were alone again.

“It’s all right,” the man told her. “He’s
gone. It’s just us. What do you need, sweetheart? Need me to go deeper?” Two
long leather clad fingers slid to the entrance of her pussy and pressed gently
upward to convey his meaning.

Maggie wished with all hear heart she
could say no, that she could refuse what he was offering her. But she
couldn’t—her body wouldn’t let her. She needed to be filled, even if it was
only by his fingers.

“Yes,” she whispered, looking away even
though his masked face was just a blur. “Yes, I…please,
yes.”

“All right. Don’t be ashamed.” The long
fingers slid smoothly into her, stretching her a little with their thickness.
He still wore the glove and Maggie could feel the coolness of the leather
entering her heated cunt. She cried out when he found the end of her channel,
penetrating her completely. God it was
exactly
what she needed—it felt
so good she was nearly panting with desire.

“Please,” she whispered again.
“Please…”

“Please what? Do you want me to do
this?”
His voice was low and rough as he thrust up into her, fingerfucking her hungry
cunt, giving her what she’d been needing for hours.