PLANET SEX
by STARGRAVES


FOREWORD

Editors' Note:

Welcome to the House of Gord. From within our hallowed halls come some of the greatest bondage adventures ever told. Our novels will invariably lead you on a discovery adventure to worlds, both earthly and otherwise, filled with beautiful, curvaceous women, bound in the most imaginative and restrictive configurations ever conceived by mortal man (or woman).

At the House of Gord, females are teased and tormented by their own libidos, converted into highly specialised utility items, trussed and trained into subservient objects of pleasure and reduced to mere chattels for the enjoyment of those who can afford to pay the price.

Divine creatures, every one of them; no bondage is too strict, no control too complete, and no scenario too trying for these damsels in distress. Our bondage novels guarantee a welcome reprieve from the daily grind. The mind is given the opportunity to take flight and fantasise the impossible (or at least improbable). In real life, we must play safely. Bound by our conscience and the physical limitations of the human body, our options are many, but not endless.

As Gord says, "There are only so many ways you can tie up a chick." 

An artist/author must reach beyond what is safe in reality, to explore those areas that cannot be explored in real life. The pen really is mightier than the sword, for its territory knows no limits.

It is generally accepted that the most effective erotic stories are those that are written from the crotch. It's hard enough for most of us to confide our hottest fantasies to a lover. It takes a lot of courage to put pen to paper in the realm of the erotic and share the results with the world. It also takes a lot of courage to purchase an erotic story, especially one of an alternative nature. We applaud you, dear reader, for having the courage to enter the House of Gord.

We doubt our books will ever be politically correct, at least in the current era. We prefer to reserve our political correctness for real life and the voting place. Nor do we claim that there is even a small amount of reality in any of our tales. After all, these are not safety manuals. Our stories are extreme, our fantasies full-strength. Whilst they are designed to inspire and delight the mind, they are not meant to enlighten, educate, or entice anything other than erotic personal thoughts.

Whilst we will occasionally edit stories to ensure legality and a reasonable level of grammatical correctness, we will not modify a story in a way that would tend to disguise the author's own style, or to avoid upsetting the politically correct apple cart. There is no apple cart at the House of Gord-just a lot of pony carts pulled by shapely, bound women with juddering nates hooked up to electrodes and prancing merrily on 6-inch stilettos. 

Yeah, right!

These books are intended as an entertainment of the mind, pure and simple, for the discerning bondage connoisseur. Therefore we will do everything in our power to assure our novels are only experienced by those who truly desire them.

Our stories venture into the outer reaches of the BDSM field, and we think the results are most engaging. The world of make believe is a very large territory with no signposts or boundaries. It is probably the only truly private world left to us in this day and age that we can retreat into without fear of prying surveillance. We hope you will enjoy our novels as much as we do. We thank you for your continued support of our small, customer friendly enterprise.

The Editors


CONTENTS

Chapter 1		Into the Void			Page		4
Chapter 2		The Forbidding Planet	Page		29
Chapter 3		Enter the Kraken		Page		55
Chapter 4		The Taming Rooms		Page		90
Chapter 5		Paradise Found			Page		122
Chapter 6		Escape from Planet Sex	Page		164


PLANET SEX
BY STARGRAVES

1
INTO THE VOID

The pilot entered the room with an assured swagger. Her gait was typical of the dominant class. A flick of the wrist sent her military issue cap across the room in a grey blur and a remote drone hummed into life closing the apartment door behind the female with an airtight hiss.

"Hi honey, I'm home!" She said with undisguised sarcasm.

There was a hesitant throat-clearing cough, before a man's voice said, "dinner is served, Captain Simmons."

The tall woman turned and stared at her servant, naked but for a chef's apron. A six-foot tall brick shit-house of a man by twentieth century standards, yet now nothing but a housemaid - a sterile drone. He stood nervously by the entrance to her dining annex fidgeting with the corner of the apron. The apartment was bathed in a deliciously spicy aroma, which emanated from the kitchen area. Clearly he had been busy today preparing for her arrival after the tedious sub-light flight back from the flight academy on Mars. For a moment she glared in abject female hatred. The man was obviously attempting to endear himself to her so she would be lenient when it came to sex later. Then her steely blue eyes softened. He visibly relaxed, but Carrie's affectionate expression was purely a facade, she'd decided that she could have some fun torturing him before dinner. A perfect way of relaxing after a hard days space flight.

Image 1

"Come here Tyler." The tone of her voice, although seemingly benign, was laden with hidden contempt. "Come and see what mommy has in store for you." Carrie Simmons smiled.

"But Mistress, I have prepared dinner..." He gestured behind him at the table set for one. It wasn't customary for women to dine with males. They were fed a simple sustenance of balanced nutrition and ate only when permitted.

"I've already eaten out." Carrie smiled at the memory of her sapphic encounter earlier with one of the new intake at the flight academy, "She was nice. A blonde. So I think I need to work up another appetite."

The captain strode forward. Her black leather costume creaking with each stride as it hugged her tall slender figure. She wore a skin tight backless thong leotard with high cut thighs that accentuated the length of her legs. Her breasts were pushed out and forward by a shoulder harness of leather straps that criss-crossed her chest and supported her side-arm holster beneath her left armpit. Thigh length leather boots, with six inch spiked heels, fastened with a row of heavy buckles which ran the full length of the boots from the ankle to the hip, added a few inches to her height. Elbow length leather gloves completed the effect of giving her a militaristic look, a beautiful and yet intimidating goddess in glistening black leather. 

Dominating men had become a national pastime since the massive oestrogen pollution in 2138, which sterilised most of the male population and made them an almost worthless commodity. The accidental female hormone spillage into the water supply worsened the already dire consequences of the neutron war, which in 2134 turned most cock-sure idiot males into pretty much cockless idiots, as so many millions of them were sterilised by the fallout. Strategic tactical strikes had destroyed huge swathes of manhood from the face of the earth over the four year conflict which began as a trade war before escalating hideously across massive battlescapes that spanned the globe. The war brought man-kind to its knees, leaving the virtuous common sense and resilience of womanhood in the ascendancy. The men of Earth had found themselves well and truly under the thumb. A situation which had only been hinted at in the late twentieth century, when women's liberation movements finally began seeing social dividends, became a terrible reality for the male population of the planet earth in the year 2145.

"Kneel!" She said.

Hesitantly, well aware of what lay ahead, the large male valet lowered himself to the floor. His heart beat faster and blood pulsed in his ears. One wrong move could result in his public execution, and yet he was only too aware that Carrie expected him to maintain his erection throughout the ordeal. For fuck's sake, he thought, the crazy bitch had no idea! In the past, it was supposed to have been easy to satisfy women after the discovery of the clitoris in the nineteen sixties which seemed to solve the difficulties of making a woman come. Now though, they were incredibly demanding. It wasn't just the orgasms either, it was the release of centuries worth of inherent perversions and fetishes, which now occupied their free time and filled the pages of society magazines and TV shows. It was as if in just a few years, they were getting their own back on men for thousands of years of suppression and abuse. For Tyler, the recent swing in women's lib was particularly stressing, as just a few years ago, females, although still dominant, were grateful of his attentions. He was twenty-one and playing in the World Series! A sports star of sorts. Just ten years later there was no World Series anymore and the leniency given to him by his first few female masters would be unheard of today. He used to be a highly prized slave, exhibited at all the best socialite gatherings. His mistresses were also far less demanding than now! When he made love to his former owners he could think of football teams to delay his satisfaction and prolong the woman's ecstasy, but now there was no such thing as football! And to make it worse, failure to perform was a criminally punishable misdemeanour! Perhaps the most frustrating thing, thought Tyler, was that now it was considered a weakness on the part of the woman if she allowed her male servant to orgasm at all when pleasing her. Discreet masturbation became a necessity. Women had at last, literally, turned all men into wankers!

Carrie stood over the kneeling slave. Her warm leather clad crotch pressed firmly against his chin. She could feel the terror course through him, and it made her glad that she had been able to buy him so cheaply. Despite his gargantuan size, he was a coward. Carrie popped a tobacco pill and blew a stream of smoke into his face. His eyes remained fixed ahead, careful not to meet her gaze without permission. He resisted the urge to blink as the stream of stinging opiate smelling smoke burned his eyes. Reaching slowly behind her back and bending at the waist, allowing her large breasts to swing within a few inches of his face, she unbuckled her chest harness and holster. She held it dramatically at arm's length between her fingers before allowing it to drop to the floor. He flinched visibly at the audible snap of a clasp as she removed her thigh strap, which supported her com-link.

Carrie reached down and gripped his crotch, forcing him back against the punishment chair, the massive new craze in household appliances for women - a shining metal instrument of male torture. The brutal nub in the centre of the seat offered a second's resistance against his tight sphincter before Carrie pushed him down and Tyler impaled his own arse on the self greasing pole. As he fell back into the seat, pressure pads on the chair set in motion a blur of clamps and automated restraints. His arms were held wide by steel bands. His head was pulled violently back by a tightening leather chinstrap. The chair made a noise as hidden mechanisms clanked inside and it stretched Tyler flat on his back, his legs clamped apart. Like a masochist's reclining easy chair, the device held him fast and forced his hips to thrust forward. Tyler began concentrating on getting an erection, and in a few seconds there was a stirring beneath his apron.

Carrie nodded approvingly as his member filled with blood and began to peak beneath the material forming a rise. She undid the straps and threw his garment to one side leaving him naked and vulnerable.

A panel in the ceiling slid back directly above Tyler's helpless form and her domination chair lowered itself automatically into place. Like a pornographic mass of enmeshed exercise machines, the glittering chrome and foam rubber harness loomed menacingly over the cringing male. Carrie swung herself into the device and hung over him like a glittering angel of female domination. Her legs fitted into the stirrups either side of Tyler's chair and she tantalisingly unzipped her flight suit from the breasts down to the crotch, exposing herself to him, as the machine held her hovering scant inches from his naked, muscled body.

She took hold of his pulsing erection, gripping it brutally, and worked her hand up and down the shaft in a familiar rhythm. He gasped a few times and tried not to enjoy himself too much!

The domination harness lowered her down on him and Carrie's bared breasts slapped his cheeks. Tyler closed his eyes. The enormous metal shaft of the chair thumped inside his anus forcing his hips to begin thrusting upwards towards the exposed crotch of his mistress. The burning pain of his stretched behind made him almost cough with discomfort, and yet the unzipped black leather uniform of his mistress and owner in front of him aroused fetish desires beyond his ken. Her large breasts shook with each vigorous slap of his face. The figure hugging uniform accentuated her delicious body and the exposed sexual areas were every man's vision of perfection, and yet, as all males, he found himself subjugated beneath her female authority. Tears nearly welled in his eyes as he thought of all the delicious things he would never be allowed to do to her and yet craved for.

Carrie's right hand slipped back and forth along the length of Tyler's bucking penis. An evil smile flickered across her lips. With a tug, she pulled him forward, his anus slipping painfully against the shaft of the punishment chair. She blew another stream of tobacco smoke from the pill into his face. He flinched, but her terrible hold on his glans kept him from recoiling.

"Wank yourself." Carrie said. "Using my hand." Gingerly, Tyler aimed his crotch a little farther forward, aware of the consequences of rebellion, as his rectum burned with the friction of the punishment chair's thrusting butt plug.

After a few minutes, Carrie, without warning, forced him back onto the chair with a raking slap that cut his right eyebrow. The brutally deep penetration of the anal probe sent a blazing agony through his lower half and made his legs go limp.

Carrie smiled. "I'm sorry Tyler, I didn't mean to hit you so hard. Why don't you try and make yourself come?" Through stinging eyes, Tyler thrust himself forward, his penis in her hands, his anus still impaled upon the brutal torture device. The archaic phrase, "agony and ecstasy" occurred to him a number of times before he managed to block out the pain and attempt to ejaculate, thrusting lustfully into the proffered orifice of fingers and gazing at the statuesque beauty of his oppressor. He moaned with unexpected pleasure as Carrie manipulated him with her fingers. He could feel the first tenuous sensations of an orgasm brewing inside his loins. This was most unexpected from Carrie; maybe she'd had a good day and felt like giving him a break. Tyler closed his eyes and redoubled his efforts. Perhaps she wasn't such a complete bitch after all!

He gasped as he felt the orgasm near fruition. Suddenly the hands withdrew and his cock thrust against thin air. Carrie pushed him painfully back against the anal dildo. Damn her, she was just toying with him again. He always fell for it! She laughed as his pleading eyes, met hers.

"Too late, you had your chance," she smiled. "Now it's my turn."

Image 2

 Tyler closed his eyes in defeat. His entire body quivered on the verge of release and yet he knew that he would be brutalised if he came now without satisfying her fully. Like a huge glittering spider sensing it's prey, the domination chair lowered Carrie down onto the engorged member. Her pussy slipped wetly and effortlessly over him, greedily devouring his sensitively aroused organ. Tightening straps drew up her legs and she gripped the armrests with gusto as the machine drove him up against her in a brutal mechanical coupling. She threw her head back as she rode the pistoning engine, her eyes closing as she concentrated on enjoying the swollen phallus as it pumped relentlessly into her. Tyler provided the member, but the thrusts were more powerful than mere organic sinew was capable of. A motor in the punishment chair, remotely controlled by switches on Carries domination harness, drove his hips with demonic fury. It was digitally re-mastered and computer controlled to bring Carrie off in the most spectacular way. Tyler gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes tight, desperately holding back from his own imminent release. With a cry, Carrie came and slowly the bludgeoning sex machine decelerated. She shook her long hair and strands stuck to the sheen of sweat across her back. Tyler whimpered as a tear rolled down his cheek from the pain of the mechanical anal rape and the frustration of holding in his sterile mess. 

"What do you expect, pity?" She laughed, “fuck that! Where's my dinner? I'm fucking starving!" She strode out of the room as the domination chair slid back into the panel on the ceiling and Tyler watched her go through the red mist of pain in his eyes. What he wouldn't do to her given half the chance...

*****

Carrie woke to the sound of hoarse breathing. She rubbed her eyes and the memory returned. Last night, she'd left that numbnut Tyler strapped into the buttfucker! That would mean his backside would have been plundered about twenty times a minute for the past eight hours. Shit, thought Carrie, as that meant that the stupid wanker would be in no fit state to make her breakfast.

After a particularly poor attempt at boiling an egg herself, Carrie returned to the living room and angrily punched the prostrate Tyler in the bollocks.

"Bllauuurghh!" He exclaimed.

"That's for relaxing on the job." She smirked. "Fucknut!" He looked worn out and dark rings circled his eyes. She paused for a moment to admire his well-muscled torso. Despite his multitudinous failings, he was a man for a start; he was not unattractive to her. She could have done a lot worse. Maybe one day she would let him ejaculate in her, perhaps on his birthday.

The vid-phone sparked into life. Carrie hit the release lever of the chair, and he fell forward in a sprawling, exhausted heap. She crossed the room and casually flicked the acknowledgement switch. She had no idea who could be calling her as she was supposed to be on leave for the rest of the week. Perhaps it was the gallery with news of the two Stargraves oil paintings she'd bought last month. Since the anniversary of the eccentric septuagenarian's accidental death a hundred years ago in a bizarre sex ritual involving two pregnant women, a platypus, and an eighteen year old girl, his work had become quite collectable.

"Yeah, what?" Said the pilot disinterestedly over her shoulder at the screen.

"Yeah what Commander, Sir, Captain Simmons!" Replied the stern faced woman, glaring back at her.

"Ooops!" Carrie spun on her heel and saluted her superior. It was the Flight Admiral of Earth's Central Command centre. That was the last bitch she'd expect to have heard from. They had a massively public falling out over the Captaincy of the flagship Shenendoah barely a month ago!

"Have you seen the vid-news today?"
 
"Not yet Sir, I only just got up."

"Pilot Simmons you are to report to the Kinsey space centre immediately. Bring your slave and enough outfits to last you a month. We've lost contact with the heavy scout-class ship Shenendoah. It was part of the survey fleet scanning all known colonised worlds for fertile males." The Commander said with military precision. "It was reporting back from Planet X-260-9104, when it dropped from our deep space radar."

"Great! A genuine planet X!" Carrie Simmons snorted.

"No distress beacons were launched and we have no choice but to attempt immediate search and rescue. This could be serious."

Carrie glanced at the sprawled male behind her, painfully struggling to his feet. "I'll be there in half an hour."

"Keep this professional, Captain Simmons. I want no personality clashes on this mission!" The Flight Admiral frowned at her. "Adelle Shelley, head of Interstellar Freight has recommended your appointment as commander personally. You don't need me to remind you of her importance, and the effect a successful mission could have on your career."

With the political implications of the mission still spinning in her mind, the vid-screen went blank. Tyler stood to attention as she whirled round. Carrie ordered him to prepare her flight bag and run a hot shower. As he busied himself, she thought about the mission ahead.

Since the war, men made up a relatively small fraction of the population and fertile men were practically extinct. She'd heard rumours of a top- secret base of men stored safely in Antarctica, but that had never been proven. Despite the fact that men were uniformly a race of egocentric, emotionally immature assholes, they were still essential in the reproductive process. The first fleet of colonists had left the earth in 2025, a full six years before the conflict, exploring distant worlds and settling new pockets of humanity throughout the eastern spiral arm of the Milky Way and some of the nearest galaxies. During the Neutron war communication was lost as the colonists, an equal ratio of males and females, boycotted earth as a political protest against the capitalist motivation of the market forces which had bled smaller countries dry and formed the impossibly powerful multi- national corporations involved in the fighting.

Communications were only now slowly being restored to the lost colonies. Five huge scout class ships were sent out to the planets on record that supported the colonists to secure and obtain fertile men wherever they found them, for securing mankind's survival. It had been nearly twenty years since last contact with some of the distant worlds, and Earth's Central Command was getting desperate. They had no way of predicting what lay out there or even if any colonies survived!

The Shenendoah was searching the furthest known nebulae where the colonists where known to have settled and to have lost the flagship of the mission, the finest crew womanhood had to offer, was nothing short of a disaster!

Carrie stepped out of the auto shower and stood dripping and spread-eagled as the drones blew warm powdered air over her body. A panel slid open and she stepped, already dry, into the robocloset. There was a brief whine of servomotors and then she stepped out again dressed in thigh high gleaming leather boots, adorned with a multitude of buckles and straps. Her body was encased in a glistening black uniform. Her waist was tightly pinched and her perfectly tanned breasts were supported and exposed by a gleaming chrome chest piece that hugged the curve of her ribs and extended over her left shoulder. She plucked her peaked pilot's cap from the rack and strode across her living compartment.

She glanced out of the window. Her view from the three hundredth floor afforded a gleaming vista of spires in the morning sun. The rich violet sky, still tinted by the radiation, hung over the sprawling megalopolis. A city of nearly eighty million people confined in an area of only twenty square miles. The ravages of the war had rendered much of the planet uninhabitable and so forced the survivors to crowd into wherever could best sustain human life.

Tyler approached with her cases. "Everything is ready ma'am."

"Let's go."

She strode out of the door and headed on her way to the air-rail tube leading to the docking bay. Tyler walked his customary ten feet behind. He followed like a loyal puppy, barely able to take his eyes from the bare cheeks of Carrie's ass as she walked. He was hypnotised by the slick rolling motion of her velvet skin. His own lust saved his ass this time because if he looked into the face of a passing Woman Citizen without permission he was liable to be punished by a severe whipping. His erection pounded in his pants, but as his irradiated sperm count was so ludicrously low, he would never be allowed to attempt to breed in case of a mutation, or the simply because it would be the waste of a Woman Citizen's time. Tyler pondered; how he'd love to rape her ass and give back to her some of the pain she'd lavished upon him. He sighed; there was as much chance of that as there was of him getting a double figure sperm count.

They took a seat on the air tube train, and as the glittering lights of the massive cityscape flashed by, Carrie thought about the mission ahead. The Flight Admiral was right in saying it was dangerous. The Shenendoah was a massive fully armoured scout ship. Nothing in the fleet could match it for firepower! If there had been foul play, Carrie shuddered to think what sort of opponent she could be facing. As they disembarked at the space centre and Carrie waited for Tyler to retrieve her bags, a number of lurid, peeling billposters on the station wall caught her eye. A logo bore the legend, "The Paradise Sect." A picture beneath showed a green field with some feeding rabbits. She shook her head. It was obviously a forged hologram, as rabbits were extinct. Below the picture was a contact number asking for donations and the phrase, "Preserve and Conquer." She had heard of the paradise sect before. Apparently they were a benign organisation that campaigned for the ecological rejuvenation of the Earth. A few of her flight crew had donated to the cause. They occasionally held gatherings and charity dinners but she'd never heard of anyone who had attended one. Tyler appeared and she dismissed the poster and continued on her journey to the spaceport.

*****

An hour later, Carrie Simmons sat in the pilot's chair of the light-cruiser Hyperion after a short briefing with the Commander of the base. The ship had been refitted with full armament capabilities specifically for this mission in case they were to come under attack. The hold was also stocked with emergency supplies and the communications systems had been souped up for greater bandwidth in case they encountered something unknown. She felt uneasy about this mission. The Shenendoah was originally going to have been her command ship right until the eleventh hour when her great rival Latara de Ville, superseded her. The blond vixen had settled into the Captain's chair of the flagship with an almost vulgar display of superiority over Carrie. It wouldn't have surprised her if Latara had used her mother's powerful political weight as Minister for male resources, to pull some strings behind the scenes and overtake her command. Carrie was left to baby-sit cadets at the Mars training centre while Latara blasted off into the history books as the youngest ever pilot to command a cruiser.

At the time, Carrie was deeply unhappy about the switch yet professional enough not to show it. Now it would seem that she was lucky not to have shared Latara's fate. So little of that quadrant of space had been explored and a brief check of the system logs confirmed the last contact date with the colony was nearly eighteen years ago. They had filed for independence, and as they were so far beyond the outer rim, the colonists were given it. What had happened in the intervening years was anybody's guess. An entire generation must have been born out there in the stars never having seen the planet Earth. It wouldn't surprise Carrie to find that the colonists felt no loyalty to a visiting warship demanding an acquisition of their men for the repopulating of a planet that they cared nothing for. After all, they hadn't sworn fealty to the new regime on Earth, and despite the surviving communication records indicating that the planet's climate was fairly hostile, the colonists seemed to have thrived there.

The door to the flight deck hummed open and her crew filed in. Highly polished leather uniforms glittered beneath the glaring electric lights of the flight deck as they walked. Carrie scanned their faces and recalled what she knew of them.

Myra was the Navigator and second in command. A sly looking, shorthaired brunette with a wicked smile, a degree in sarcasm and eyes on Carrie's position in the Academy herself. She was known for her brutal ambition and more than one official had been burned by Myra's elevation through the ranks. Carrie made a mental note to keep an eye on her. Just in case.

Trille was the medical officer, a petite blonde. Carrie had flown twice with her in the recent past, but despite finding her a consummate professional, she had the impression she was almost painfully shy. In some respects she was, but another side of the woman had yet to be discovered. She seemed the exact opposite of Myra. Carrie hoped that Trille knew how to take care of herself in a crisis. The last time their paths crossed socializing, she'd spent a full ten minutes in quiet contemplation as to which cocktail to drink. Hardly a snap decision-maker and her quiet voice could occasionally get lost to the background hum of conversation. Carrie didn't want to have to view Trille as a burden to the mission.

Finally Zyrinka arrived on the flight deck - a black haired Amazon beauty from the Eastern European federation. Carrie knew little about her, and on the way to the launch docks, she'd accessed the central computer records to find out what she could, only to see very little. She did have a perfect record as a communications officer though, and a few glowing references. She had been hand picked by the Flight Admiral, so she must be good, despite being new to Earth's Central Command. Still, of the crew, Carrie hoped Zyrinka would be someone to rely on.

They strapped themselves into their flight positions. Nestling their behinds onto the stabilising double pronged dildos on the chairs. Automatic clamps locked their legs and arms into secure positions. Thick black bands, made of sturdy leather, whipped tightly across the females' torsos. A wide belt hugged their slender forms and twin straps criss-crossed their breasts, forcing their jutting mammaries up and proudly outward. Carrie made a final check, eliciting affirmative responses from all present, and slowly lifted the ship from the docking bay. Embedded warm and deep inside the women's sex organs, the massive humming anchor dildos both stimulated and centred their bodies into the chairs to keep the women stable when the craft shrugged off the turbulence of escape velocity through the atmosphere. The crew gasped in unison as the electrical devices thrummed at a stimulating frequency. Each woman was tested to find their optimal waveform, and stimulated accordingly for heightened responses and faster piloting reactions.

"You've all been fully briefed, I take it," Captain Simmons said as the ship cleared the bay doors.

There was a mutually agreed murmur. "Good, then I'll begin."

Carrie threw the ship's turbine drive into gear and the massive engines lifted the bulk cruiser Hyperion into the bristling radioactive sky. They hurtled across the city in a locked flight path before reaching a safe distance for the interstellar drive to kick in. The massive glittering craft arced gracefully towards the horizon before a blue glare pulsed and the ship vanished through the thick cloud and accelerated into space.

*****

Image 3

The massive engines sent a subtle vibration through the superstructure as the Hyperion shot through space at over 190,000 miles a second. On the bridge, Captain Carrie Simmons flicked on the autopilot and watched reflectively as the starfield outside blurred by. In a few hours they would be free of the home system and could drop into the quantum field, bending three-dimensional space, as we knew it and folding light years into navigable distances. The whole trip would take little more than a week. When the colonists left Earth originally, it would have taken them nearly two years to arrive on Planet X-260-9104. Lengthy sleeps in cryogenic chambers had been superseded by the Quantum drive. It had enabled space exploration to expand, and yet with the fertility crisis on Earth, this defining leap forward in quantum physics theory was now womankind's only lifeline: their last hope of contacting the remaining colonists and repopulate the dwindling numbers of humanity. A race against time as extinction hung in the balance.

"Right! We should arrive in 25 hours. I want a full check on all systems. Charge the turbo-lasers and start a full range sensor sweep ahead of us. Maximum amplification." Carrie adopted a grave expression. "If there is anything out there, then I want ample warning."

A silence descended over the bridge as the women looked out at the vast ebony black void through the main viewshield. Pinpricks of stars shone from unimaginable distances away. "Someone, or something has downed the flagship of the fleet. If we don't keep our eyes open, then the same thing can happen to us. Run those checks. I'm going to my quarters. If you spot anything, anything, that isn't a hundred percent expected, then contact me immediately." Carrie left the bridge and walked down the perimeter corridor of the ship to the upper crew decks. Beneath her in the personnel hold ten armed shocktroops were strapped into war simulators to keep them in combat readiness throughout the flight. The shocktroops were highly trained men, infertile of course, in heavy battle armour. Guided by sophisticated computer telemetry, they could operate in any environment and were a formidable fighting force. To the rear of the craft, the cargo bay held enough armaments to level a city and almost enough supplies and medical equipment to rebuild it again. To the aft of the hold at the end of the corridor, the engines purred effortlessly, despite them blasting out the energy of a small sun.

On the bridge, Myra spun her flight chair around and popped a tobacco pill. Zyrinka risked a curt disapproving glance as the smoke blew across the flight deck. "Looks like the shit's hit the fan back in Central Command if Captain Simmons is anything to go by."

"What do you mean?" Trille asked nervously looking up from her medical console.

"The ship that went down was bigger and better than this heap of shit, and Carrie was supposed to be it's captain. Somebody important is trying to make amends for a big mistake. Latara was far too young to command a flagship. Something really weird is happening behind the scenes and I get the feeling that we're not being told the whole story." Myra thoughtfully exhaled more smoke. "I reckon that there's a full scale revolt happening on Planet X. The colonists don't want to give up their men. I bet it's going to be a real hotbed of activity down there. Placards, protests against us Earthers, the lot. If Carrie makes one slip, then I'm going to be flying us all home. I've got a feeling that high command are sending us out to test the water out there. They have probably already lined up some scapegoats back home. Latara's rich bitch mother Maude de Ville for one."

"The Minister of Male Resources on the Senate Committee?" Asked Trille.

"The very one. Everyone at the academy knows that Carrie and Latara hate each other, and her mother got her the Captaincy to put Carrie's nose out of joint," Myra said with a knowledgeable air. "She was inexperienced. Something was bound to go wrong! And now we've got to go and smooth things out with the colonists. If Carrie can keep her head long enough to negotiate without screwing up."
 
"What makes you think that she'll make a mistake?" Zyrinka asked as she looked up from monitoring the deep space scan, slightly tired of Myra's gossip.

"Let's just say she's a bit of a hot headed bitch. There's a fair bit of history between us." Myra blew more smoke. "I think this mission is way too tough for Carrie Simmons to keep hold on the reins."

"I heard about you two." Zyrinka smirked. Trille looked across, her long blonde hair swaying across slim shoulders. Zyrinka winked knowingly across the flight deck at Trille before goading Myra further. "Carrie dumped you, didn't she?"

Myra glared. "What did you say?"

Zyrinka shrugged. "Forgive me. I thought it was common knowledge. Carrie dumped you at the academy."

There were a few moments of silence before Myra replied. "She meant nothing to me." Her eyes met Trille's. The young blonde medical officer glanced at the other two locked in bitchy sparring. Myra smiled at her, and her cold grey eyes glinted, a shiver went through Trille.

"It's time, I think, that we checked on the troops," Myra said curtly. She detached herself from the flight chair with a slurping, smacking noise and gestured to Trille to follow her.

Trille pressed a switch and her bio-scanner dropped neatly into her palm from beneath the console. She had to trot to keep up with Myra as she stormed from the bridge onto the perimeter corridor and made their way towards the central junction leading to the personnel hold and it's armoured occupants.

"Where does that Russian whore get off on goading me like that! I could have her busted down to slopping out the tri-chloride tanks! I don't know where she gets her information from." Myra paused and looked at Trille.

"I suppose you think it's funny to wind up your superiors too?" 

"Oh no," Trille started, her big blue eyes widening. "I thought she was being rather insubordinate."

Myra paused in wicked contemplation. "I think we'll get on just fine. Stick close to me, kid. I'll make sure we both get back in one piece." Myra hit the release mechanism and the bulkhead door slid open revealing the personnel hold with the grotesquely armoured shocktroops. Each was over six and a half feet tall. The massive exo-suits were bristling with sensors and the outsize arms glittered with numerous weapons. Myra plugged into their direct field input console and relayed all the instrumentation from the bridge that the long-range scans could decipher straight into the squad's combat consoles. If they were going to bump into something nasty out here in the darkest depths of space, then they were as sure as hell going to be forewarned. Trille ran a computer scan to check that all the warriors were functioning normally. They gave her the creeps. Brainwashed killing machines in heavy battle armour. They seemed more automata than man. The dimly lit hold occasionally hissed steam from the coolant release system, and the gas hung knee height in the air lending a gothic atmosphere to the scene, making the entire section akin to Frankenstein's laboratory. Trille shuddered. At least the Frankenstein creation was purely biological. The creatures lining the walls here were terrifyingly mechanical. Shining joints sparkled in the moisture filled air, as Trille put her reservations to one side and continued her scientific readings. Everything seemed to be running fine. The two women left and headed back to the bridge. On the way Myra stopped outside an unlocked habitation module.

"Look in there," she gestured to the plexiglass window set in the door.

Trille moved forward and on tiptoes, peeped in to see Tyler spread-eagled to a male restraining rack bolted down to a work surface.

"Let's have some fun," said Myra.
 
"But, what if..."

"If nothing! He can't tell Carrie anything if we order him not to. We're still female Citizens, and if he disobeys us, then he's for the 'chop.'"

They entered the room and Tyler jerked awake with a start. Before he could protest Myra was upon him and undoing his trunks. She quickly pulled out his member and then twice slapped her leather-gloved hand across his face as a warning not to talk. "Okay big man, I want you to get wood, and quickly." She held his penis, and Tyler began to grow an erection. He was startled and yet quite excited. The women were beautiful. The dark one had flawless olive skin and steely grey eyes, and the younger of the two was a delicious blonde with long flowing hair and large firm tits. Myra was pleased with the size of Tyler's rapidly growing organ. She squeezed it a few times before offering it to Trille. "Here, ride him," she said.

Trille gasped. "But I've never, I mean, I always use the attachments instead."

"Never tried a fleshy, eh?" Myra smirked." Well now's your chance. They're not as reliable as the Vulvatron, and can occasionally be fairly messy too, but I can recommend them. There's something quaintly old fashioned about feeling a living, squirming organ inside you and knowing that there's a helpless straining animal on the end of it."

Trille stepped forward and lowered herself onto the penis as Myra guided it into her welcoming orifice. Tyler closed his eyes and concentrated upon keeping himself erect, as he knew he should. He'd experienced the stinging blows of failure in the past. He knew that this rape was technically illegal but there wasn't a single constitutional law that was in his favour! 

"Oh," Trille gasped, "it's quite nice actually, pretty warm. Mmm. Lots of friction. It's the first time I've felt the rub of a man's pubic hair." She rocked back and forth feeling the penis slipping in and out of her cleft.

Image 4
 
"It's a bit limp though, not as stiff as the Vulvatron." She said as she accelerated her movements and began to literally jump up and down on him, each impact knocking the wind from Tyler's lungs.

"Limp, eh?" Myra laughed. "Wait till he sees these." She unclasped her top exposing her massive firm breasts and dark erect nipples. Tyler's eyes widened and Trille laughed as she felt him instantly stiffen inside her before she resumed her violent and clumsy thrusts. Tyler had to grit his teeth and bear it. She was no great lover that was for sure. Her nails scratched across his shoulders and her pelvic bone dug cruelly into him. He enjoyed the change though. This was the first time in a while that he'd had to provide sex for someone other than Carrie, and it was the first fucking he'd done in ages that hadn't involved a blasted shaft up his arse while he was at it! Trille's breath came in short squeaks. Her vagina clamped greedily around his member and constricted it rhythmically. He could tell that she was going to come soon. Myra ran her hands across Trille's breasts. In response Trille unbuckled her flight suit exposing them to the older woman's caresses. Trille slid a few fingers inside Myra's hot pussy and manipulated her. Tyler had no trouble in staying hard as he had a great vantage point lying on the table sized rack. He saw Myra's fingers tweaking Trille's hardened nipples and saw Trille's fingers vanishing into Myra's sex. He had to do his damnedest to prevent himself from exploding inside Trille's hot wet cunt.

Myra removed Trille's fingers and knelt on the rack, positioning her crotch over Tyler's face, a knee either side of his chest. Her pussy pressed down on him and he slipped his tongue inside her. Trille and Myra embraced and began furiously necking, their breasts pressed together as their tongues entwined. Tyler lapped greedily at the sopping vagina as it wet his face. He could smell the hot aroma of her excitement and longed to be able to caress the ass that undulated an inch above his head, but his arms were securely strapped. He could feel Trille ride him with renewed vigour and she clutched Myra hard against her as she came. Myra angled her pussy away from his mouth and towards Trille, her ass pressing down on his face.

Tyler continued licking anyway, his tongue describing a line from the base of her coccyx and between the cheeks of her arse, lingering on and probing her sphincter. Trille climbed off his penis and lay along his body, her breasts hanging down onto his chest, as she began to suck on Myra's engorged labia. Myra leaned back and supported herself with her arms as the two tongues squirmed over and into her sex organs. It wasn't very long before the delicious orgasm throbbed through and she squirmed on Tyler's face. The two women kissed a few more times before climbing off him leaving slick wet patches where their pussies had been sliding over his skin. His cock pulsed with frustration. Just a quick suck or a few strokes would have brought him off, but the women buckled their flight suits and left the room without another word. Fucking dykes, he thought. He was begging for release! At least when he had his hands free next he would have some great mental images to play with while he pulled himself off. Resignedly, he felt his cock dwindle in size, and he set about getting back to sleep thinking of the two naked women in various submissive, held-open poses.


2
THE FORBIDDING PLANET

As the Hyperion approached the planet's orbit the command deck was crackling with tension. Carrie had found Tyler inexplicably smelling of cunt. Trille looked slightly flushed, but wouldn't have had the nerve to just go and fuck him. Zyrinka hadn't moved from her chair, and that left Myra. She was capable of it, but she didn't like men and only slept with women, as Carrie knew from experience. They had been an item for a few months back at the academy about four years ago. It wasn't anything serious, at least Carrie hadn't felt it was, and Myra didn't kick up a fuss when they separated. Did she still hold a grudge? Maybe raping Tyler was her way of getting back at her. Was that how it could have occurred? Myra was the most likely suspect despite Carrie's reservations. She would have to be careful. The last thing Carrie wanted was a mutinous crew member! As Carrie scanned the faces of her crew, Trille still looked shifty and slightly guilty, but surely this shy child couldn't be the culprit. She would have to work it out later though as they were nearing atmospheric approach of Planet X, and had been broadcasting on all known frequencies since dropping out of Quantum space nearly two hours ago. So far they had picked up nothing but a terrific blast of static coming from the planet's surface. They should be able to estimate the touch down of the Shenendoah to within two miles on the surface but the interference was playing havoc with the controls.

"Zyrinka, increase all frequency levels, try to break through the refractive ionosphere and give us a clearer picture of the location of the touch down."

"I'm trying, but if I didn't know better, I'd say that the interference is actually aimed at us. It wasn't there until we were close enough to scan for life."

"I can't get any definite life reading," whined Trille. "According to the sensors there's just a massive swarm. It's as if the entire planet itself is alive. I can't pinpoint the crash site of the Shenendoah either."

Carrie sighed. "I'm taking her in." She gripped the control staff and drove the massive craft in through the atmosphere. The superstructure was buffeted by tremendous atmospheric pressure as it dove towards the planet. Slowly the clouds parted as the Hyperion hurtled towards the surface and a vast jungle spread out across the horizon. The dark grey foliage flashed by beneath the ship as it levelled out to explore the landmass. Travelling in excess of two thousand miles an hour the craft left a boiling vapour trail as it thundered across the pale silvery blue sky.

On the bridge, a klaxon blared and all eyes flashed towards Zyrinka. "I've found her. The Shenendoah is grounded two hundred and thirty seven miles east. We can set down on a plateau just four miles west from the site. I'm not picking up any com-link activity."

"I can't find any life signals. It looks bad!" Squealed Trille. "There's some kind of interference that is scrambling the readout. I can't pinpoint the origin of the static either or find any evidence of colonist civilisation!"

"Stay calm, I'm taking her in." Carrie swung the ship around and aimed towards the downed craft. Her heart pounded inside her. This was the culmination of years of training and she could not afford to fail now! Whatever had happened to the scout ship could not be allowed to happen again. "Battle formation, secure the landing zone."

They hurtled across the sky, retro jets thundering so loud that they shook the leaves from the grey blanket of alien foliage as they decelerated the craft to make a landing. As the huge articulated landing gear swung down onto the engine-scorched plateau, the hold disgorged its armoured shock troops, dropping them onto the surface, cushioned by their armoured landing gear. Instantly they fanned out into a circle and spread a hail of deafening laser fire and mortar bombs across the landing zone, clearing a mile-square area around the ship, before setting up perimeter radar modules to secure the landing strip. As one, the ten mechanised troops dropped to their right knee and aimed their numerous weapons outward in a covering pattern. Nothing could get within a mile of the ship without being exposed on the charred smouldering black scrub.

"Well, we're here in one piece. I need all of you to perform at your best to get us through this. We don't yet know what we're facing, but I don't have to remind you that the Shenendoah was carrying two hundred personnel and fifty armoured shocktroops." Carrie eyed the crew. "But now that we're here, forewarned is forearmed."

They suited up. Carrie took the lead as they dropped from the landing pod and onto the smouldering soil of the planet's surface. Behind them the hull doors closed with a resounding crash. Trille glanced nervously back at the ship and said a silent prayer of hope that she would return.

Zyrinka waved her scanner around and removed her Oxy-mask. "The planet's an E-type, gravity 1.2, atmosphere perfect."

The group breathed deeply, glad of the refreshing breeze. It never failed to amaze how fast one could get tired of reconstituted-air on board a space ship and lose track of simple pleasures like the warmth of the sun and the caress of the wind.

The shock troops advanced in a semicircle before the women. Their massive boots crunching the scorched earth. When they were ten yards from the perimeter of destruction, they opened fire again, cutting a narrow swathe through the rustling grey foliage. Again they advanced. The path was ten yards wide and being lengthened periodically by the troopers' blasters. The path down the side of the plateau towards the downed craft meandered very little. The power of the weapons had no respect for the geographical foibles of the planet as they burned their way through the jungle at an alarming rate. Shock troops programmed for extreme prejudice were little more than psychotic war machines and within an hour they had de-forested a strip of jungle nearly the size of Belgium and were fast approaching the hulk of the Shenendoah. Carrie punched in orders to her wrist-com and the troops split into two squads, spreading out and securing both the path through the forest behind them and the ship ahead.

"It's a wonder we haven't heard from the colonists with all this blasting!" Myra said.

"In check, Number Two!" Carrie turned to face her. "Hostile deployment in heavy vegetation when facing unknown numbers demands extreme deforestation, continuous 360 degree life scanning and battle condition red alert. Section five; paragraph ten of the emergency assault and retrieval manual. In case you have forgotten, Myra, we are in potentially hostile territory here. Besides, this is a fairly large planet, two-thirds the size of Earth. The colonists could be on a different continent! For all we know the Shenendoah never even made it to their civilisation!"

"Point taken, Sir." Myra frowned at the rebuke. Trille was slightly embarrassed. Since their encounter, she had felt quite attracted to Myra, but she had been ignored throughout the rest of the trip and was beginning to feel used by this crass, somewhat insensitive woman. She had expected at least some acknowledgement of her oral skills. Trille had made Myra come after all!

They advanced through the forest until they came to the vast landing-jet scarred clearing in which the Shenendoah rested. Zyrinka audibly gasped at the size of the craft. The engines gaped open before them the size of several city blocks, and the ship's front section was blurred by the distance. It was nearly a mile long! It was one thing to study floor plans and schematics for boarding, but to see it rising massively above a 200-foot tree canopy in gaunt metallic silence was another matter entirely!

Image 5

Trille scanned for life. "The readings are crazy! It swings from zero to off the scale and back again. I can't make any sense from it! There's something really strange going on!"

"The ship's interior is being shielded somehow," said Zyrinka. She looked up at the huge dark metal colossus that filled the horizon and towered above the swaying, dripping grey forest as far as the eye could see. "I can say that it didn't crash at least."

Myra was carefully observing Carrie, who was visibly awed by the nature of their task. "Let her make a single mistake," she thought, "and if I can get her on her own I'll burn her away with the lazer pistol. Nobody makes an ass out of me!"

Carrie electronically summoned the shock troops and arranged them. Five to guard their rear and five to enter the space hulk as an advance guard. The group tried hailing the bridge of the massive ship, and even waving up at the black, impenetrable windows that lined the sides. Only an oppressive silence greeted them. The jungle surrounded them with a soft rustling noise, and yet there seemed to be no animal sounds and little breeze to stir the thick alien fronds. Trille was especially glad of the silence. If a cry had gone up from the seething grey morass she would have surely screamed. Her heart pounded in her chest and an instinctive fear of the unknown made the silence seem deafening. She stepped carefully over the scorched earth, wary of every noise she made, as if one wrong move would alert something terrible lurking just out of sight, and bring down a terrible fate upon them all.

Carrie led the troup around the perimeter of the Shenendoah. The bulkhead appeared to be intact and yet the ship looked somehow tainted by the eerie grey around it. The craft seemed like an enormous derelict, as if it was abandoned millennia ago, such was the stillness. The windows of the bridge took on the aspect of enormous black insect eyes, blankly and uncomprehendingly impassive, staring down at them. As they reached the front of the vessel, they could see that the main loading ramp had been left extended. It rose up twenty-five feet at an angle into the very belly of the ship, a tempting, almost vulgar entrance that somehow fascinated as it terrified. Carrie was reminded of the legend of the Mary Celeste and thousands of other mythic ghost ships. The walkway led up to the main hold, a gaping, unlit, metal cavern, dripping moisture from the steamy jungle surroundings. A few lianas or creepers, some as thick as a man's forearm, had snaked from the forest up the ramp and clung like pulsing greyish veins across the hull.

The group paused before the maw, each looking up at the huge metal edifice with a growing unease. How could so many vanish without trace? What could so affect a capital starship? They glanced nervously around. Myra, who had been so secure as second in command, began to slowly realise that her position, far from being the subject of potential political advancement, could place her very life in danger. She nearly envied the slave Tyler's sanctuary back on board the Hyperion. A haven that seemed much farther than the hour long trek back.

The alien sun, an oval silvery disk, disappeared over the mountainous top of the Shenendoah, and the group found themselves in an instantly cooling shade. The area around them darkened as the first of the shocktroops was ordered up the ramp. One by one the five disappeared into the cloying darkness. The remaining soldiers covered the rear as the four women neared the yawning abyss of the hold. They drew their blasters, weapons feeble in comparison to the heavy armour preceding them and yet somehow reassuring. As in a textbook assault, Carrie and her team held hand- monitors beaming back real time VR of the Troopers view inside the ship. The pictures shook crazily as the team fanned out covering all apertures into the hold, then steadied as the brutal human automata secured their positions. Myra sighed with relief. There were no bogeymen in there after all. The team waited the required five minutes to avoid any surprises and then began to follow the soldiers into the massive, silent, tomb-like craft.

Myra's eyes darted around as she walked. The haze of the moisture seemed to be playing tricks on her, for a second, she thought she saw something move on the edge of the tree line. She turned and looked more closely, but at nothing. Five troops were after all, guarding their rear. There was no way anything could approach from behind without their noticing. Turning back, Myra saw that she was alone on the ramp, the others had all disappeared into the hold. She ran to catch up, and as she moved, dislodged a creeper, which seemed to writhe and pulsate. Startled, Myra trained her gun on it but the length slithered harmlessly down the ramp. Biting her lip Myra entered the craft.

The cavernous hangar stretched hundreds of yards into the distance. Trille felt a shiver run through her spine. The creeping jungle had somehow spread into the craft and vines had swarmed along the walls and roof. The foliage rustled as they entered. The air was thick with moisture inside the sheltered hold and a heavy mist hung knee height, swirling as they passed. "It's like being in the belly of the whale."

"What?" Zyrinka turned towards her.

"I don't remember clearly." Trille's voice echoed into the gargantuan black abyss. "It's a twentieth century story. Somebody was trapped inside a giant sea creature the size of a drop-loader. They lit a fire to escape or something." Trille stretched out to touch a creeper. Her fingers withdrew with a thin line of mucoid slime attached. From somewhere towards the rear of the hold came consistent dripping that echoed loudly. Trille gestured towards the spidery network of creepers across the wall, arranged almost like veins. "It makes this vessel look like a cave or something even worse, as if these walls weren't built by man. As if we're walking into the jaws of something."

Carrie stepped forward. "Cut it out Trille. This is a rescue mission. I can't afford a weak link in my chain of command. It's simply vegetation from the forest."

"Sorry sir."

"Just don't let your imagination run riot. Keep your concentration on the scanner. I want to know if there's anybody left on board. Failing that we'll head to the bridge and check the flight recorder."

Trille nodded and pulled herself together. She wiped the slime off her fingers onto her suit. The stuff seemed quite sticky and was difficult to remove. She rubbed harder; a tickling sensation remained on her hands even after the last trail of the mucous had gone.

The women seemed like ants against the massive backdrop of the hold as they walked further inside the craft. To the sides, huge loading doors stood open and gaping, leading off to unexplored depths of the ship, threatening at any time to belch forth the physical manifestation of their unknown fears. Hesitantly they sent the troops ahead towards the bridge.

Zyrinka calmly appraised her scanning machine and pinpointed the route to the flight deck, three floors up and to the right. A single trooper was left at each exposed junction between the hold and the bridge as they explored, to guard against any ambush. And yet the security of their assembled firepower did nothing to relieve the creeping terror they all felt as they delved into the bowels of the dead ship. At any moment they expected some indescribable alien force to tear at them from the darkness ahead, but at each turn they were met by nothing more than the half-seen phantoms of their own paranoia. At one turn they came across an environment suit strewn on the floor, they all started with fear believing it to be the corpse of one of the missing crew, bled-dry by some unimaginably alien menace. The relief of finding the suit empty, was little reassurance against the dark. The faint ping of their life scanning equipment seemed to synchronise itself with their pounding heartbeats making it difficult to listen for any telltale distant noises. Finally they approached the bridge from the port side.

The bulkhead door was closed and there was no life scans detectable inside. They all fanned out, lasers at the ready, hearts pounding at the prospect of facing the unknown on the other side of the bulkhead. At the count of three, each syllable like a hammer blow on their nerves, Zyrinka opened the door.

All but Carrie gasped.

The entire array of delicate instrumentation was fused together in an orgy of violence. The captain's chair had been smashed into the bulkhead and warped almost beyond recognition. Vast gouts of blood had been sprayed and congealed across the torn consoles and low ceilings. Lumps of unidentifiable flesh hung from the rafters. Trille and Myra gagged unexpectedly at the barbaric devastation. The air was heavy with the stench of blood and viscera.

Carrie spun round fast. "Any life signs yet?"

Zyrinka and Trille simultaneously replied, "negative."

"What happened here?" Trille blinked back tears of fright.

"They got killed." Myra snarled as she scraped away some dried gore from the control panel and accessed the flight recorder log.

"I don't think we should stick around here too long," Zyrinka said nervously, glancing across the bridge to the starboard entranceway opposite them. The portal yawned blackly, a thin pall of warm steam uncurling in the darkness. She hefted her heavy rifle and covered the doorway shifting nervously.

Myra swore as she read the flight data. "It looks like something got them fast. I'm only flicking through this log quickly though as this display is pretty cracked." She jabbed at another button and the damaged display screen she was hunched over showed selected transcripts of the last minutes of the Shenendoah. Her eyes scanned through the scrolling text, searching for a clue as Trille tried to examine the jellied remains stuck to the walls and floor. Carrie appeared at Myra's shoulder. "Anything?"

"It's pretty garbled, we should really look at this on a better system, as you can see," she gestured towards the stricken console, "I haven't been left much to work with. This isn't exactly what I'm used..."

"Look, there!" Carrie interrupted Myra's admonitions to point at the screen. "There's no sign of life on their scanner."

"So? Maybe what killed them was a mechanoid, something that we couldn't pick up."

"Don't you see? At least the crew themselves would have registered as life signs for christ's sake!" Carrie's eyes widened.

Myra turned her scanner on Carrie. It registered no life; the familiar pinging monotone remained unchanged. All readouts were nil. "Something's deliberately jamming us!"

There was a hideous moment as realisation dawned. There was some intelligent force railing against them after all! Whatever had happened to the crew could happen to them at any second.

"Let's get the fuck out of here!" She hit the release lever of the flight recorder, gathered the disks and hit the gangway at full pelt. The team ran too, screaming instructions to the shocktroops to fall back behind them and cover them. As they reached the main arterial corridor, an unearthly screech wailed from the darkness of the unexplored passages and the motion sensors lit up like proverbial Christmas trees.

"Get the hell out now, full covering fire!" Carrie roared at the troops. A kaleidoscope of lasers and percussion missiles tore down the corridors towards the encircling unseen enemy as the troops retreated back to the hold. The four women ran terrified, a headlong flight towards salvation. Carrie, as she ran, beamed a message back to the Hyperion where Tyler sat chastened at the controls. "Prepare for immediate lift-off. Shenendoah massacred, repeat massacred. Planet hostile. Prepare to nuke from high orbit."

The screeching seemed to be upon them as the girls reached the loading ramp and stumbled clear of the hulk. As one they hit the blackened soil and turned to cover the following shocktroopers. As they stood with their blasters readied, the staccato thunder of firepower from inside the ship abruptly ceased. A deathly lull settled over the scene. The four exchanged nervous glances. They checked their arm consoles and saw the bio-lights of the troopers wink out one by one.

The women gasped in shock. What kind of creatures could survive that onslaught and destroy their warriors?

Trille felt a shiver run down her spine as she realised how vulnerable they were, she staggered backwards away from the ship in disbelief. Her insides were knotted with fear, her heart thudded as if to break free from her chest. Her hand was really beginning to sting too, where she had touched the slime. She gasped; maybe she had poisoned herself. A fast acting nerve agent! Suddenly, she felt a strange throb in her crotch. She reeled, gasping and terrified, sure that the others hadn't yet noticed her pain, a cry caught in her throat. The world around her was descending into a waking nightmare! She staggered again, her vision blurring. Clumsily, her fingers numbed, she almost dropped her rifle. In horror she looked down at her pulsing hand. The fingers were a livid scarlet! Something, somehow, an alien infection? God, as medical officer she should have known better than to touch the vines in the hold. Sick with fear she let out a terrified wail.

Zyrinka stepped forward. "They're gone, the troops have had it, let's go!" 

Carrie turned to her, lowering the blaster rifle that she'd used to cover the ramp. "You're right! On the double! Run!"

Image 6

They hit the jungle path at full speed, kicking up carbonised soil behind them. The five remaining armoured troops deployed themselves to Carrie's orders, two in front, three behind, all laying down a thunderous covering barrage to prevent the screeching horror from overtaking them. Trille ran as best she could, but it felt like her genitals were swelling with blood almost to a massive size. The agony blurred her vision further, the grey foliage and silver sky melted together and she found herself staggering and falling behind the others as they escaped, but couldn't find the breath to cry for help. She fell to her knees in the dust, the shocktroops disappearing ahead of her. She heard something approaching from behind. Trille was too scared to scream; with trembling hands she hefted her assault blaster, took a breath and turned to face the foe. Through tear brimmed eyes she saw a dark shape loom above her and Trille attempted to bring her rifle to bear but the whiplashing thing was upon her in a second.

*****

Tyler leaned casually against the captain's chair. The ship's computer motherboard was playing him, and losing, at chess. He smiled and reclined exaggeratedly. "I think I win! Checkmate."

The computer ran through a billion computations a second and with an almost human air of reluctance, admitted defeat. "CONGRATULATIONS MR TYLER, IT WOULD SEEM THAT, HOWEVER INCONCEIVABLE, YOU HAVE BESTED MY CPU AT THE CONFRONTATIONAL TACTICS OF CHESS."

"Heh heh, I whupped your fat bitch ass!" Tyler laughed.

"PLEASE CLARIFY, FAT BITCH? ASS?"

"Well, as a CPU, you're programmed to sound like a woman. Hence you have to be a fucking bitch! Plus you also sound like you have a fat ass! How's that?"

"I THINK YOU ARE MISTAKING ME FOR A HUMAN FEMALE WITH AN UNPLEASANT DISPOSITION AND AN OVERSIZED POSTERIOR. WHILE IN FACT I AM A HIGHLY ADVANCED PROCESSOR."

Tyler laughed out loud.

"CLARIFY ALSO THE MOVES OF THE CHESS PIECES: BISHOP, ROOK, KNIGHT AND QUEEN."

"Well that's easy. You were white, you went first, therefore, your pieces were only allowed to move one square at a time."

"WHILE YOUR CORRESPONDING PIECES COULD LEAP ABOUT THE BOARD AT WILL?"

"Yeah!"

The intercom crackled and Carrie's voice echoed throughout the ship. "PLANET SECURED, WE'RE BRINGING THE SURVIVORS BACK. OPEN ALL HATCHES FOR OUR RETURN AND TURN OFF THE PERIMETER RADAR FENCES. THERE IS NO HOSTILE AGENT, REPEAT, NO HOSTILE AGENT. THE GRAVITY DRIVE FAILED ON THE SHENENDOAH. SHIP CRASHED. REPEAT. WE'RE BRINGING IN THE SURVIVORS. OPEN ALL HATCHES."

"Phew, and there's me thinking the worst," Tyler said as he flicked the switches to open the ship to the outside world. "Will do." He replied into the microphone.

*****

Carrie risked a glance over her shoulder, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she ran. Zyrinka was close behind, Myra further back. Of Trille, she could see no sign. The shocktroop's guns behind them had been silenced about twenty minutes ago. She cursed her own stupidity, the mission was in grave danger, and Tyler hadn't responded to her calls. She'd played it by the book using extreme prejudice, but the entire thing seemed to be a trap. There was a malign intelligence seemingly watching and anticipating their every move. It would be dark soon. The last rays of twilight gave the foliage a silvery hue. Carrie prayed that they would make it back before the darkness of the alien night was upon them. They had adjusted their life scanners to merely motion scanners in an attempt to get a rough fix on the enemy, and had picked up a thousand or more targets surrounding them. She hoped that most of the hits had been the simplified scanners simply picking up the curiously swaying vegetation, but had to fear the worst.

The ground rippled ahead of Carrie in the gloom, and snakelike tentacles writhed at her, as a form heaved itself up from the under the soil. Carrie vaulted the creature and rolled to a kneeling position, spraying laser fire into the seething alien morass. The thing fried. Myra and Zyrinka hurtled past. "Watch the surface, they're beneath us!" Carrie yelled in warning. 

As she sprinted to catch them, Carrie saw a disturbance in the foliage near Zyrinka. Before she could even cry out, a length of coiled vine had whiplashed around the soviet's waist and effortlessly plucked her into the air. A scream rang out as Zyrinka fought to be free but Myra continued running without a second glance.

Carrie ran to help as more creepers wrapped around Zyrinka's writhing frame. Barbs tore her clothing and her bared breasts swung as the vine thrashed her. Carrie sent a few grenades into the undergrowth and the creepers were severed at their source. Zyrinka fell to the dirt. Carrie helped the Russian to her feet, and scratched and bleeding she resumed the headlong flight back to the ship.

*****

Tyler opened the airlock. "Hello?" The sound echoed emptily. The airlock was deserted. "Where are you guys?" The exterior portals of the ship had been open for a few minutes now and yet nobody had joined him on the bridge. He had activated the medi-computer to prepare itself for the survivors in case any needed treatment but the computer had received no patients. "Maybe they had been slowed by the weight of the numbers returning from the Shenendoah, and hadn't yet reached the ship," thought Tyler. He flicked the console next to him into life and called up the exterior surveillance remotes, hoping to see the women approaching. They were dead. "Computer, check outside cameras." He tapped his fingers nervously on the bulkhead as the CPU ran a system diagnostic check on the cameras. Tyler was beginning to feel uneasy.

"ALL EXTERIOR VIEWS FUNCTIONING NORMALLY."

"No they fucking ain't!" Some thing was seriously wrong! He ran back along the perimeter corridor to the bridge and slapped his hand across an array of switches, closing all of the exterior doors, sealing the ship off from the darkening Alien world outside.

"MALFUNCTION. MALFUNCTION. OVERRIDE. CANNOT CLOSE DOORS WHILE BOARDING IN PROGRESS."

Tyler's mind reeled. "Computer, who is boarding? Is it the crew?"

"NEGATIVE. SPECIES UNKNOWN."

Tyler backed away sweating. Species unknown. What the fuck had he let onto the ship! He ran to the perimeter corridor. Nothing moved. Think, think, he screamed at himself. The supply room! He could get a hold of weapons there to protect himself from whoever, or whatever, had entered the craft. The "species unknown" that he had let onboard! He slid down the deck ladder, and scrambled towards the aft of the ship. His palm smacked the release button in the supply room and a panel slid back exposing the reserve arms. He snatched up a 20mm percussion rifle with an underside mounted flame unit and turned to leave. Something massive rose up from the darkness behind Tyler and reached for him. The scream echoed longer than the single shot he managed to fire before he was taken.

*****

Carrie and the half-naked Zyrinka stumbled into the darkened clearing by the ship, relieved to see the familiar outlines of their massive craft. Myra was screaming into her com-link. "Tyler open the starboard airlock dammit!"

"What's wrong? Where's the rest of the troopers?" Carrie asked, while Zyrinka glared, the memory of Myra's flight when she needed help, fresh in her mind.

"Tyler is not responding! I haven't seen the troops. I think they're all dead."

From behind them, a howl rose from the grey undergrowth. Lianas swarmed like massive worms towards the ship. The perimeter fence was off. There was nothing to stop the things chasing them from swarming onto the hull. Who the fuck had turned the fence off? It was programmed to discharge killing force when an unidentified organism or object passed through its range. Carrie pounded on the hull in frustration. Without warning the airlock hissed and the huge doors opened. They vanished inside; the hostile threat was safely sealed behind them. As they neared the bridge, Carrie snarled, "if that was Tyler's idea of a joke he's going to fucking suffer!" Myra helped support the limping Zyrinka, whose weals glared scarlet against the soft white of her exposed flesh.

"I'm going to my cabin to er, fix myself up." Zyrinka said apologetically, and as she turned away towards the living area she shot a frown at Myra.

"I'll help you," said Myra following her, unhindered by the spite. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't stop for you," she said to Zyrinka as they neared her quarters. "I had to ensure that at least one of us made it to the ship and made sure we were all safe." They were out of earshot of the commander.
 
"Carrie really fucked up back there. Trille's dead, this whole mission was nearly jeopardised. I'm going to push for a full investigational tribunal once we've nuked this place and gone home," Myra said, as they entered Zyrinka's private room.

"What do you want from me?" Zyrinka glared as she removed a fresh uniform from her locker. "Affirmation that you didn't display cowardice back there? Just because we're safe now doesn't mean I'm going to forget that you kept on running and didn't try to help me!"

Myra changed tack. "Listen girl, I'm on my way to the top! That's as read. In two years time I'm standing for office. I've got connections back home and I'll want people around me I can trust. Friends." Myra put an arm on Zyrinka's bare back. "I hope you'll back me up on this. Trille was a good comrade. It's Carrie's fault that she's dead. With your backing I can have her demoted. Maybe give you your own captaincy."

Zyrinka stripped and prepared her new flight suit. "Right now, comrade, all I want to do is change and get off this fucking planet. I'm no politick," she shrugged off Myra's arm, "...and I choose my friends carefully."

"Tyler! Tyler? Turn on the perimeter fence immediately." Carrie called as she strolled down the central corridor onto the flight deck, but the bridge was empty. Tyler was missing. Carrie knew something was seriously wrong inside the ship. She hit the intercom to summon the others but the console remained unresponsive. Carrie whirled, weapons at the ready as something leaped at her from behind the med-tech's panel. Laserfire peppered the area and the thing slumped boiling to the deck. "Jesus fucks pigs, they're on the ship!" She cursed. Carrie ran to the perimeter corridor. A shape detached from the roof and tried to take her. The captain torched it before it got within ten feet. The blackened mass keened and writhed. A few slugs from her 20mm rifle splashed it across the floor and the sound stopped. She had to warn the others somehow.

Myra stormed out of the cabin towards the rear of the ship and headed to the bridge. Damn! Zyrinka was a stubborn twat-wanker. Still, there was no way Carrie could ever get another command, and as first officer back to the ship, she was already credited on the log recorder as the one who ordered the doors open and got everyone back inside to safety. A movement caught her eye from the ladder well leading to the lower deck. She paused. It had to be Tyler. That fucking cockthrottler! He took his time getting his ass to the bridge and letting them in! She descended into the lower hold. He was going to suffer. She'd see to that personally!

In her cabin, Zyrinka re-positioned her breastplate after dabbing her scars with ointment. She made sure that her tits were thrusting prominently. Legend had it, that Earth males in the middle-ages wore massive codpieces to exaggerate their penis size and intimidate their enemies. The tradition had continued throughout the remaining centuries. Males jammed socks and cucumbers and all sorts of paraphernalia into their underclothes to continue this tradition of a well-packed lunchbox to intimidate and spread inferiority complexes. Somehow in the past few years it had evolved to become a female trait concerned with displaying their breasts. Bared, as they were, there was no place to add extra padding to lie about the size, and although enlargement scars were a thing of the past, everyone could tell a real pair from a plasty set, and big breasts meant big business. Gone were the days of male sniggering and groping them and since they were now the underclass, the women had only their own kind to compete against and breast sizes were the obvious physical asset. Zyrinka's by any standard were perfect. Large and well rounded with dark, hard nipples. She had breasts that could run for mayor! She admired herself in the full-length mirror for a few moments before dabbing some more ointment onto the lacerations.

*****

"Tyler, I know you're down here." Myra growled, "when I get my nails into you... Well, you'll be sorry! Was that crap outside getting me back for fucking on you earlier? Did you think it was funny to lock us out? If you did I'm gonna make you pay big-time!"
 
She advanced into the darkness of the lower hold. Crates of medical supplies and portable emergency habitat modules rose around her, creating a dark labyrinth. Her rifle hung lazily over her shoulder on its strap.

"Tyler come out right now, I know you're here, I fucking saw you!" She screeched. A movement caught her eye. She whirled. Dammit, he's gotten behind me. Hang on a minute, she thought, it's more than he is worth to play hide and seek on a hostile planet with a superior woman. Something was seriously wrong! Myra swung the gun forward and started backing carefully towards the ladder. Whatever she saw couldn't have been Tyler. He'd have given himself up by now, surely! If that was the case then what was it she'd glimpsed?

"All right then," Her voice almost cracking with the fear. "Stay here you cock smoker. I'm going to change into something more vulnerable. So why don't you just wait down here for me and I'll be back in a few minutes, huh?" She reached the ladder. Something half-seen rushed across the hold ahead of her and disappeared behind a crate of medical supplies. She held off blasting a stream of laserfire at it, not wanting to be caught firing at shadows and giving away her position. If there was still a chance that she could leave without arousing it's suspicion then she would take it and try to systematically flush the thing out with the help of the others. "I'll be back soon if you want to play." Slowly, covering the hold with the massive gun, she climbed the ladder, expecting a rush from whatever was in the hold beneath her. Her mind ran through a number of scenarios, and they all seemed to involve that damned creature out of the "Alien" movie from the last century. Something horrible with far too many fucking teeth! Why the fuck didn't ship designers watch it and make sure that they put more light bulbs on spaceships these days and com-links to the bridge fucking everywhere on the ship! The nearest one was a few feet from the top of the ladder. She still had a dozen rungs to climb, although to Myra, it seemed like a mountain!

Zyrinka left her cabin and headed towards the bridge. As she turned, a snaking appendage uncoiled from above her and lashed out. Shocked, she stumbled, lost her footing, and crumpled to the deck. Zyrinka looked upwards. The roof was alive with writhing shapes.

A scream escaped her lips as a man-sized form descended on a wave of fluxing coils and reached for her.

Myra jabbed the intercom. "Carrie? Are you there? Listen!" She whispered into the handset, "listen to me. They are on the ship. I've got the hold covered so I think we're safe. Comb the upper decks while I stand guard here. Alert Zyrinka and Tyler to arm themselves, I don't know how they got in but..."

In front of her eyes a long, glistening, and hideously inhuman, multi-jointed finger uncoiled from behind her, and depressed the intercom button to disconnect her. She dropped the receiver and before she could open fire, the thing grabbed her from behind. Whiplashing tendrils slithered across her body. Coils snaked into her mouth and nostrils as she tried to scream. A thick length vanished into her clothes and as she struggled against the powerful, vice-like hold, she felt it thrusting between her legs. Horrified, Myra gave every ounce of strength to escape, her body heaved against the stricture. The tentacle found it's mark and the rough, scabrous length plunged into her soft entrance, burrowing deep inside of her vagina. As she fought, a second thick tentacle sought her behind and squirmed inside her anus, delving mercilessly. The pressure around her neck was too much, and violated, she blacked out.

*****

Image 7

Carrie had punched the red alert button a dozen times. The systems were disconnected and she couldn't hail anybody else on the ship. How could an alien predator know the circuits of an imperial cruiser? It wasn't possible. She had even tried to send a warning back to earth, a message detailing their experience and ultimate failure. It was practically signing their own death warrants. Not something a captain takes lightly! If there were any chance of rescue she would never have broadcast such a warning. No ship would ever approach this world again. It was designated Fatal To Land, an FTL. But Carrie had no way of knowing if the signal left the ship, such was the sabotage amidst the hardware. It wasn't possible, she cursed, that anything could learn how to disable the ship's communications with such precision. Unless... Unless... Fucking hell. They could have taken apart the control systems of the Shenendoah. Could they have learned so fast? Jesus! She thought, if they had I don't stand a chance. Carrie crossed the bridge in a stride. She hit the self-destruct command.

Nothing happened.

Well, if they were going to take her, she was at least going to go down fighting. Carrie took her position at the helm and turned to cover the entrances. "Computer, are you still online?"

"AFFIRMATIVE."

"How many life-forms are on this ship, crew and otherwise." 

"FOUR CREW. "

"Change frequency. Scan for movement. Not crew, just life-forms." 

"THIRTY-SIX THOUSAND TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FOUR INDIVIDUAL NON-MECHANISED MOVEMENTS DETECTED."

"Fuck."

"CLARIFY."

"I don't mean fuck you! I'm as good as dead!" Carrie thought. How could there be so many? Maybe the scanners were detecting individual movements such as arms, legs and fingers! "Localise all movement detected, and compute to within a six foot arc. Scan for individuals."

"SEVENTY-SIX AREAS OF LOCALISED ACTIVITY."
 
"Seventy-six to one. I don't mind that!" Carrie checked her magazine. She always saw things as being half full, as opposed to half empty! "A trip down to supplies to reload eh? You fuckers aren't gonna take me that way!" She patted her right thigh. The slaps sounded metallic. "I've still got a few surprises left for any Alien muthas who think they can waggle their fuckin' ends on my fuckin' ship!"

"Computer, electrify the hull throughout the ship excluding the bridge." She hopped up onto the console.

"CANNOT COMPLY."

"WHY THE FUCK NOT?" She screamed. "The fucking ship is overrun with aliens and you can't fucking complete the order! Why fucking not!"

"ENDANGERS LIFE OF CREW MEMBERS TYLER, ZYRINKA, MYRA."

"They're alright? Still alive?" Carrie dropped to the flight deck, "where are they?"

"AFT HOLD."

"Where in the aft hold, it's huge! Christ-on-a-stick! Can't you fuckin' elaborate, fucking ever!"

"THE HUMMMANNSS THEEAATT YEEUOO REEEEFFEIOUR TOO RRR NNN TTT RRRR HHHHOLD WWWWTH XXXXNO.... XXXXXEENNOMORPHSS... DANGER DANGER CPU COMPROMISE CPU COM .ZZZK#####.."

"Computer! Are you still there?" She was met with silence. The main CPU terminal was in the console beneath her. There was no way to get to it! Unless, of course, the things were crawling beneath the floor-space, then they could get at most of the systems!

"Shit!" Carrie leapt from the console and rolled across the floor as an articulated claw smashed upwards through the deck and began tearing the floor panels back to break free. She laid down a brief arc of fire that sent it's severed arms steaming and spinning across the bridge. An unearthly screech wailed from the under floor ducting and the thrashing stumps recoiled. The floor directly beneath her burst open and powerful lengths of tentacle gripped her thighs and began to haul her down. Carrie screamed and fought to be free but her rifle was snatched from her grasp by a thick gnarled limb. Further appendages constricted her arms and spiralled around her chest. Screaming, she vanished below the deck and into oblivion.


3
ENTER THE KRAKEN

Groggily, Carrie's vision cleared. Her mouth was dry and an unfamiliar acrid smell seemed to sting her nostrils. Her eyes were stuck closed with dried tears. She tried to move but found her limbs strongly bound. The memories came back to her in a nightmare flash of terrible realization. She thrashed against her bonds and forced her eyes open. She was hanging naked from a wall. The room seemed to be some sort of earthy smelling, underground cavern. Mist hung in the air as she blinked and tried to focus. Across from her, on the opposite wall, Myra and Zyrinka hung prone and as Carrie's eyes cleared she could see that there was something moving in the darkness above her captive crew. The mist parted for a moment and she saw glistening, hunched forms nesting on the wall over the lithe naked women. Tentacles, like rope, hung from the strange humanoid creatures suspending the crew a few feet above the cave floor. Horrified she looked up, above her, a distorted face glared down, eyes glowing in the darkness like hot red embers in a fire. The slimy tendrils hung about her, and fighting revulsion, Carrie realized that she too was suspended by a living organism. The rope like limbs gripped her neck, wrists, waist, and ankles. She struggled but felt the grip become tighter. Sickened beyond belief, she realized that some of the tentacles wrapped around her were also buried deep inside her body orifices. Two massive lengths of ropy tissue disappeared into the cleft between her thighs, supporting her. A further set of appendages kept her legs spread painfully apart, the tendons in her groin ached mercilessly. She must have been hanging for hours! Her arms were bound above her, wrists abraded by the gnarled coils. 

"Myra, are you awake?" She hissed. "Myra. Listen!"

From across the room, Myra stirred. The thing above her visibly tightened it's grip. Snake-like limbs coiled slickly across her slim body and she was drawn higher, almost protectively up the wall. Slime glistened across her nakedness. Damn, thought Carrie as her own captor tightened it's hold in a warning embrace. Zyrinka's eyes flickered open opposite, her face a mask of pure fear. She started to open her mouth to scream but was shushed by a stern yet reassuring look from her Captain. Myra, conscious at last of her alien embrace began kicking and screaming to get free. A further swarm of tendrils poured across her head, smothering her cries and vanishing into her nose and mouth. The heaving naked body slowly and horribly ceased it's bucking. Carrie, furious at their treatment tried to reach her right thigh. Her arm came close, but was pulled up short by the fiendish grip. Cursing, tears of frustration rolled down her face. She wasn't finished yet. If she could just reach her thigh...
The thing holding her captive released it's own wave of tendrils as a response to Carrie's struggling. Lengths of dark flesh vanished into her nostrils and throat. A thick fluid gushed from them. Gagging, she was momentarily reminded of the smell of semen, then Carrie started to black out as the narcotic cum took effect.

Nightmare dreams of violent, raping penetration tortured her mind. After an eternity of throat scorching screams, Carrie heard through the mist of sleep a human voice, strong and beckoning.

A male voice.

Her eyes snapped open. Tyler stood impassively below her, smiling upwards at her alien bondage.

"Hi." He smiled, clearly enjoying her pain. "Looks like you're in a bit of a fix, huh? Mizz Captain!"
 
Carrie's reply was choked short by the thick alien member that pulsed in her mouth. With a wet slurp that left a thick white fluid running down her chin, the length withdrew to allow her a voice.

"Where are we?" She spat. "What the fuck's going on? What were those monsters? Where are the troops?" She spluttered.

"Whoah, there!" He laughed and removed his hands from the comfortable pockets of a particularly stylish new suit. "One question at a time!" He approached her, and reaching up with his right hand, caressed her naked thighs and belly, grabbing and squeezing her perfect flesh before sighing and smiling his reply. "I can tell you where we are: I am in heaven. I think you are perhaps in hell." With a grin he stepped back and appraised the captive. "Y'know, I always wanted to see you like this. It suits you. I mean it. Your tits are lookin' great, and I can't wait to fuck you up the ass! Boy am I gonna hurt you bad."

Appalled, Carrie writhed in fury, "you lay another hand on me and I'll see you dismembered before a high court. This is an outrage!"

He reached inside his smart gray jacket and removed a curled and knotted length of hide. She instantly recognized it as an old-fashioned leather whip. Laughing, Tyler made a gesture to the alien monstrosity above her head that held her, it reversed Carrie's position, and lifted her legs high. She now faced the wall of the cave with her bared behind held out towards the grinning slave.

"Apologize to me. Say that you'll never chastise me again and I'll not flay you alive! I can't possibly be any fairer than that." He grinned, thoroughly enjoying her plight and the sight of her naked sex in front of him.

Carrie Simmons had never lost a fight. She was legendary at the academy of finding a way out of every theoretical no-win situation they could throw at her. Unfortunately, this particular position of alien bondage was a first, and none of her training could possibly have prepared her for such a scenario! Luckily, she was intelligent enough to know that there was nothing to be gained by dissent. She was happy enough just to be alive. At the back of her mind, Carrie realized that the crew of the Shenendoah must also be alive and in a similar situation. If she could contact them somehow and organize a revolt against their captors they might have a hope. If there was any chance of escape, then it certainly wasn't now! Tact and feigned submissiveness was called for, so as to lull their captors into a false sense of security before an assault could be launched.

"Okay, okay." She gasped seductively. "I'm sorry Tyler. You know I always liked you. That's why I bought you. From the moment I saw you on the auction platform, I knew I had to have you. I fell for you big-time. Please understand that's not something I could admit to. You know that! Please, I'll do whatever you say honey, just don't hurt me. Please?" She gasped a few times, affecting weakness and submission.

Tyler considered her words for a few seconds before releasing the hardest lash of the whip he could throw across the bared ass in front of him. The 'thwack' echoed around the cavern at least twice before Carrie had enough breath with which to scream! Before she could even breathe again, Tyler swung the fifteen-foot knotted leather across her a second time, connecting with the tender soft flesh of her thighs, about an inch below her beautifully rounded buttocks. Carrie's body thrashed uncontrollably with pain, suspended effortlessly by the alien squatting on the ceiling of the cavern. Her breasts swung with each impact creating a stir in Tyler's pants. Tentacles tightened and released to perfectly accommodate her writhing and thick clear fluids pumped excitedly from the tips of each length, covering the naked girl with a slimy, glistening sheen. She struggled to get free with a renewed vigor bordering on frenzy, but she was held rigidly, the tentacles biting into her flesh, hard enough to bulge the skin into ripples where the lengths coiled around her limbs.

After a good half-hour of lashing, Tyler rubbed his right shoulder. Carrie's wet ass and back were livid with glowing red scars.

"Phew," Tyler commented. "This sure takes it out of you, huh?" For some reason she was unable to reply. Stepping forward, he removed a canister from his top pocket and liberally sprayed her slashed back. As the fine mist settled the skin knitted and the livid raised weals subsided. Tyler took out a tube of healing cream and began to rub it into Carrie's hot quivering flesh. His hands spent far longer than was technically necessary rubbing the gel into the area between her legs and he paid specific attention to her pussy. Spreading the tenderized lips and plunging first one, then three of his fingers inside her. She moaned as she felt his fingers spreading wide inside her. Tyler withdrew and smeared more of the slippery cream over his fist. He forced his hand viscously hard against her from behind, and the organic restraints took up the slack as he fisted her.

Tyler watched as her pussy spread wide and engulfed his wrist while he pressed into her. Her sphincter bulged as she writhed to accommodate his fist. He withdrew his hand slowly, relishing the wet slurping as the livid, painfully stretched labia fluxed under his admonitions.

She gasped inarticulately in reply to the unexpected and painful invasion of her body. "Aaahh!" She squealed as he thrust his clenched fist deep. "Aaah!" She could feel his knuckles stretch the elastic wall of her vagina. A tentacle closed over her mouth, gagging her to mute the gasps of pain.

"Mmmph...Mmmmph...Mmphh..."

He revolved his clenched fist inside her and noted with pleasure the clenching of her buttocks against the pain. Slowly, enjoying the stretching he caused, he withdrew his fist. Her vagina remained open for a second and he could almost see inside her, before the opening slowly contracted, the entrance muscles throbbing with agony at the enforced dilation.

"Mmmph!" She choked as the slimy tentacle unwrapped itself from her face leaving a glutinous, sticky smear that entangled long strands of hair.
 
"Ggghhh," she coughed as she tried to spit some of the alien filth from her mouth.

"What's the matter bitch? There's not a mark on you!" It was true though. The damage inflicted by the whip was completely healed, her body was unmarked: only the mental scars remained! As Tyler finally stepped back, Carrie's dripping body was turned around again, back to the wall. A pair of tentacles encircled her breasts and made them bulge painfully out. Carrie would have preferred death to this agonizing sexual humiliation.

"I guess I lied about the 'not flaying' you bit." Tyler grinned. "But I may as well have fun now while I can. If only you had any inkling of what's in store for you." He chuckled to himself. "Boy, this is gonna be great! I never imagined this mission would turn out so well!"

"What are you talking about!" She gasped. "The mission failed. Trille's dead, the ship is destroyed, we're held captive by an alien race!"

"Let me stop you there. We aren't held captive by anything baby. You are. I've got a dick. Here that makes me a fucking guest! Trille is alive. But she's not what she was. I can't explain it all, I'll leave that to our illustrious host, he should be along soon. I asked him for a moment alone with you. For old time's sake, you understand. I wasn't going to let him hurt you." He smiled paternally. "At least not until after I'd had a shot at you first!"

"Help me please." She gasped. "We've got to escape."

"Why should I help you, eh? On Earth I'm a slave. You repeatedly raped and humiliated me - often in front of guests. I'd walk round tidying up after you, cooking your food and with a really sore asshole every fucking day. Just once, I'd have liked to put my feet up. Watched a movie or something, or even have had a nice relaxing wank. But no! I was subject to your every whim." He unzipped his trousers, "well, guess what? Here, it's my turn to play at being boss."
 
Tyler snapped his fingers and the tentacles maneuvered Carrie in front of him. Smiling he stepped forward, allowing his trousers to drop to his ankles. Her legs were held wider apart by the tentacled creature above, exposing her tender sex organs to his brutal administrations. Ignoring her startled cries he slowly entered her, savoring every inch of her slippery passage. He sighed with pleasure and stared into her fear-widened eyes. Carrie caught a glimpse of Zyrinka's shocked face over his shoulder, before he began to thrust into her. It was an outrage! A man was penetrating his master without permission. Punishable by boiling castration and then death on Earth.

But she wasn't on Earth. "Aghh! Tyler no! Stop, please stop!" She sobbed as each thrust knocked the breath from her.

The creature holding her often refined its grip, the tentacles moving her body in unison with Tyler's penetrations. Carrie struggled futilely against the flexing bonds, but the thing was too strong for her. She tried to kick her legs, at least close them slightly to prevent her entrance from being so accessible.

"Ooh yeah! Struggle baby. It feels good." Tyler laughed.

She cried in frustration and tears of shame stung her cheeks. Tyler's breath came in gasps, accelerating with each thrust, and she felt his thick member stiffen inside her as he approached his climax. Repulsed, she tried to squirm away, repeatedly clenching her agonized vaginal muscles in an attempt to expel the ejaculating cock. Instead of being forced out, Tyler simply adjusted his rhythmic movements to match her contractions to maximum effect. He came noisily, the thick spunk gushing into her slippery cunt. That really satisfied him after the previous few days' frustrations. He could hardly believe his freedom! He had just fucked his boss! Shot his load without making her come, and without even arousing her first. He deliberately laughed in her face and his heavy breathing, from the exertions of sex, gradually returned to normal. He withdrew from her reddened hole. It was incredibly liberating to be able to have sex and come whenever he felt like it, without prior permission. Tyler could barley contain his excitement with his newly found status. "I liked that thing you did at the end there, all that squeezing inside. It really brought me off! That's quite a technique you've got there."

Tyler pulled up his pants and sighed with satisfaction. "Well, was it good for you too?"

Carrie screamed at him. "Aaagh! When I get loose I'm gonna tear off your dick! I'll slice your balls and make you eat them." She thrashed madly against her living restraints, but the impassive thing above her simply drew her back to the wall in her original position. Defeated, she spat at him. "Bastard!"

"I hate to love you and leave you, but I'm a bit peckish. So why don't you just hang around and I'll be back later to tuck you into bed, huh?" Laughing, he strolled to the opposite wall where the other two were held. "Maybe I'll try one of the others. They might be a bit tighter than you, don't get me wrong, you look pretty sexy, but you've got a bit of a bucket fanny." He disappeared through a sliding doorway set into the rock. She could see a glittering metal corridor beyond before the wall slid closed behind him.

"Are you alright?" Zyrinka asked.

"What do you think! I'm fucking overjoyed!" Her pussy felt raw and stinging. The ring of muscle around the entrance throbbed with pain and she felt a trickle of his discharge run down the inside of her thigh. Trying to put the incident behind her, Carrie called to Myra. She was still unconscious.

"Did you see that doorway?" Zyrinka asked. "Plasteel hidden by the living rock. The colonists must have built it."
 
"What do you think could have happened to the colonists?" Carrie asked. "They have been on this planet for years. Do you think these things got them?"

"I don't know. I'm a science officer not a psychic. I can only tell you what I see."

"How dare you speak to a superior officer like that!"

"You don't look so fucking superior from here!" Zyrinka swore. "We can forget rank for a start. From what Tyler insinuated, I think the colonist males are in command on this planet. We're all in this together. We've got to get out of here and we need to do whatever it takes. I don't think I could bear to be used in such a way! Fuck only knows what they've done to poor Trille."

Carrie's anger flared. Zyrinka had implied that she'd been used by Tyler. It sounded so vulgar, but she had to admit it was true. It was the first time she had been had by a man in such a way. It made her feel very weak and vulnerable, and yet strangely feminine. Carrie tried to put such thoughts from her mind, her body was being rebellious.

"It wasn't that bad. I can take anything he cares to throw at me. He's only a slave, despite his freedom here. When I get free he's going to pay for that. But, I guess you're right. We've got to stick together to get out of this. If we can try and find Trille, and maybe Latara and her crew from the Shenendoah, we might be able to get enough support for a concerted break out attempt. I'm not beaten yet. Not by a long way."

"Oh but you are." A deep English voice echoed from the gloom. "You are well and truly mine!"

A tall figure approached and stood impassively before them, his dark eyes exploring their exposed intimacies. A long scarlet cloak swirled about him as he flamboyantly gestured around him. "You are in the arrivals lounge. We have had quite a number of precious young ladies through here. None have ever left my world."

"Who the fuck are you?" Carrie snarled at the shaven-headed man.

"I am your host. You really didn't need to kill my pets you know. They wouldn't have hurt you." He twirled a gloved finger about his long oriental styled moustache. "As to your question, I am Doctor Krell. There is no need to introduce yourselves. I monitored your transmissions all the way from Earth. They really do insist on sending me such fine specimens to play with." He leaned closer to Zyrinka and examined her vagina, poking a finger inside and waggling it around. Removing his hand he carefully sniffed and tasted his digit. He smacked his lips a few times the way a wine connoisseur would mull over a particular vintage before announcing. "Hmm, Russian, twenty-six, I believe." A low moan rose from behind him and distracted Krell from the horrified Zyrinka. "Aha, I see young Myra awakes. Such a struggler, I had to give her twice as much tranquilizers as you two when bringing you all here. A really determined fighter she was. Pity about the short hair though. I never liked them with short hair. Smacks of boyish independence don't you think. And we all know what happens when a female has ideas above her station." He chuckled. 

"What are you going to do with us?" Zyrinka asked nervously.

"Do you know," Krell mulled, "I have no idea yet." He smoothed his hand across his bald head chuckling to himself. "Oh, I have a few vague impressions, of course. Nothing concrete yet. Rest assured it will be ingenious and invigorating and you will all give great pleasure to many." 

"Where are we, you bald mutherfucker?" Myra roared as she came to. 

"Let me down. Why I oughta..." Her voice was choked off as the tentacles again smothered her mouth and tightened. Her cheeks bulged and her eyes rolled. She snorted for breath through her nostrils.

"Feisty, eh? I'll have to grow her hair longer though before I wet myself inside her. But where are my manners?" Krell affected the air of a diplomatic ambassador. "Now that you are all awake and can appreciate your surroundings I'll show you around." He snapped his fingers and headed towards the hidden door. The creatures scrabbled across the roof and the women, slung underneath in a cradle of alien limbs, were carried behind.

They were taken along a number of passages, and as they could only look straight up at their hideous transports, the women soon lost orientation in the labyrinth of metal corridors. After a while they entered a room and the creatures took up positions along a wall. The tentacles shifted and they were suspended vertically again, cocooned in the creature's embrace, their arms held rigidly against their backs, their legs bound tightly together. They were in a large, comfortably furnished den. Krell was in front of them. He depressed a switch on a table and the wall behind him slid into the floor revealing a hundred-foot long expanse of glass-crete. The view from the window took their breath away. The vast jungle landscape undulated as far as the eye could see in the hazy alien daylight. The gray foliage was some hundred feet below their vantage point and steaming vapor boiled into the atmosphere as the silver sun neared the horizon. Dark blue clouds, like massive scars, streaked the sky.
"Marvelous isn't it." Krell smiled. He was clearly a proud man. "We are halfway up the side of a massive extinct volcano. This planet is beautiful, is it not? You should see what I've done to the inside of the crater, though. At the moment we're looking outwards from the center. It's nearly three miles across and completely separated from the jungle outside by these steep cliffs." He gestured down towards the forest floor in the distance beneath them. "Ahh," he reflected, taking a refreshing sip of unidentifiable liquor from a beaker on the table. "You should see the forest during the season, when the gray leaves swell with the flesh of the migrating animal herds and the foliage becomes blood red overnight. Truly beautiful. But deadly. Had you landed during the season, you would have been killed. The plants are dormant now, slowed by the climate. It's a fascinating eco- sphere. Totally carnivorous, both flora and fauna. Truly remarkable! Locked in an eternal battle for survival. No such thing as vegetarians here! God I love this planet! But we're quite safe in here, yes, quite safe. We colonists had a hell of a time at first, before we learned how to cope. The plants are the overall dominant species though, on this planet. The dominant mammalian species are largely subterraneous. Easily trained too. Moderately intelligent. But I see you've already met some of my specimens. Truly fantastic, don't you think. They really are the stuff of nightmares. Strangely as it turns out, they are not animals or reptile. They are in fact a distant cousin of man. The only genetic difference is a minute mutation in one gene that decreed they would have tentacles instead of arms. The outer covering, as far as we can discern, is a result of their having to develop over millions of years down here in the dark damp caves. These creatures are humanoid and may well be the fore-runners of mankind. However, they weren't as fortunate as Earth humanoids as they never managed to subdue the dominant species and rise to the top of the heap."

"Look, I'm sure a lecture on the native flora and fauna would come in useful for us, but at the moment I'm somehow not in the mood. Could you please let us down from these, these 'things' and we can discuss our position like civilized human beings?" Carrie said.

Krell laughed. "But you are no longer civilized human beings! How presumptuous of you." He looked genuinely amused. Smiling, and with his eyes gleaming with mirth, he approached the captain and, removing a small device from his pocket, fired a needle thin beam of electric blue light into her midriff. The tentacles released her and Carrie fell shaking to the floor. Her eyes rolled in her head and flecks of spittle appeared as her naked body convulsed with the force of the electric shock. He knelt next to her and whispered into her ear. "Hurts, doesn't it?" He stood up again and addressed the others. "Anyone else like to be let down?"

They frantically shook their heads and answered as one. "No, no we're fine. Comfortable really."
 
"Good. I always like to treat my guests with the hospitality they deserve. Now where was I." He tugged at his beard thoughtfully. "Ahh, yes, I was standing by the table." He strode back across the room to his drink on the table. "Yes. I've a feeling you're going to hate it here. No matter. You came here willingly. You shot a few of my pets. Now you belong to me. Simple, really."

Carrie writhed paralyzed on the floor. Myra shook her head. The man was a lunatic! "What happened to the crew of the Shenendoah? Where's Trille?" She instantly regretted her vehemence and looked down at Carrie's tortured body. "If you don't mind me asking?" Myra quickly added. 

"They're here the entire crew of the capital flagship. Installed. Every one in their place, and such a delicious selection too, I might add." 

"But the bridge was decimated, there was blood everywhere!" Myra said. 

"I find that fear is a powerful weapon. It disorients, it paralyzes. Fear works very effectively at undermining peoples resolve. It was all a set up. A planned trap. I used the entrails and gore of livestock! Pigs, goats and the like! Implanting the seeds of doubt and scaring the fuck out of you! The shocktroops were easy enough to neutralize as you tried to escape, I just broadcast a jamming frequency that I beamed into their battle computers as you landed."

"And Trille, what have you done to her?"

A light flashed on a wall console. "Trille, I'm afraid is another thing entirely. For some reason, she touched, or came into contact somehow, with a sample of phenylexteroplysis. It is a liquid serum given off by the carnivorous plants of this area." Clearly in his element, Dr. Krell strode about the room, as he explained with gusto the terrible effects the enzyme had on the young medic. "The closest you could compare this with, would be as if Trille was given a massive, hormone irradiated, fast acting, dose of super-testosterone."
 
"Do you mean she has become a man?" Zyrinka asked incredulously. 

"No. It's not that simple. I'm afraid she is quite insane at the moment. She is also very hairy, is sex crazed, and better still, her clitoris has enlarged in sympathetic length some way towards becoming a man's penis." The Doctor chuckled heartily and gently wiped tears of mirth form his eye.

The two suspended women gagged in horror. Carrie, lying prone on the floor couldn't muster any reaction.

"Don't worry, the effects aren't permanent. Besides, a clit can never be as big as a dick. It's only about four inches long and two inches thick!" He smiled again. "But, in her favor, she has a male's appetite for sex with women. Intriguingly enough though she only shows a tendency towards anal rape. I can scientifically put this down to the feeble size of her priapus. She needs a tighter hole than the average quim can offer hence the sphincter fixation. But enough talk!" He gestured towards the blinking light. "Why don't you see for yourselves?" Krell waved a hand across the blinking light on the console of his desk and Trille was brought in by one of the tentacled horrors. She immediately began screeching and clawing at the suspended women. Her pubic hair curled thickly down her thighs, and her face and breasts had developed a soft but noticeable down. Her blue eyes, widened and bloodshot, scanned the array of vaginas before her. At a gesture from Krell, the thing released its hold on the girl, and Trille threw herself at Myra. A thick slaver ran from her chin and a grossly enlarged pink clitoris thrust from between Trille's very effeminate legs. As sharp nails scratched across Myra's generous buttocks, the living bondage creature suspending her, seemingly sex-sensitive, lifted Myra's legs high above her head, exposing both orifices to the shining pink proboscis.

"Get this freak away from me!" Myra wailed.

Trille thrust violently forward, her clumsy advances jabbed the massive, sensitized clitoris across the warm, slippery cleft of Myra's sex before plunging it into the tight anus. Myra cried in pain, startled at the brutality of the attack. "Aaaagh, holy shit!" She squirmed in the creature's clutches. "Aaagh, aaaa!"

Trille, now rampant, lifted her own legs from the floor and hung on to Myra's suspended form, her long fingernails digging furrows across Myra's back. The impassive alien squatting overhead seemed happy to take the weight of both flexing women. Trille plunged her swollen organ again and again into the tight sphincter, her phallus, sensitive and engorged with blood. The doctor seemed delighted with the display and casually rested an arm across an easy chair. Zyrinka was truly appalled and abandoned all hope of remaining dignified as the quivering mass of heaving breasts and asses hung from the wall next to her.

"For fuck's sake this is insane," she cried.

"Aaaaagh, aaagh," was the best that Myra could reply as she felt her asshole rudely being violated!

With sinister purpose, the crazed Trille wrapped both legs around Myra's back and screeched like a banshee while fucking frantically in an insane parody of a man's coitus. Her backside gradually ceased it's lunging, and quivered with animalistic orgasmic satisfaction.

"Ooooooooohhh." Trille languorously exhaled.

"Don't worry, she can't yet ejaculate." Krell laughed seeing Myra's nauseated expression. Trille dropped nimbly off and rolled around the floor like a satisfied monkey. Krell shooed her back through the doorway into the next room. "Amusing yes, but I need her as a woman. It is a pity. I would like to take the experiment further, but this planet has a lack of usable fadge at this time. Perhaps in a week or so she will become her old self. With any luck she will remember everything she has done and will be very, very embarrassed!" He laughed softly and smiled at the mental image of the petite blonde.
 
A monitor screen pinged into life and Krell appraised the readout.

"Ha! I see they're ready for you. Come along. It's time to show you to your rooms and get you suitably clothed for this environment."

"Why?" Myra asked nervously, trying desperately to behave normally, as if nothing had happened, and as if her asshole wasn't blazing with pain! "Is the air poisonous or something?"

"Heavens no! I just like looking at women in rubber and chains!" Krell laughed.

"Damn you! You're insane! How can you do this to us?"

"Easily. You're on my planet hence you belong to me. I've got big plans for you girls. There's a few choice positions that need filling!"

Myra snorted. "Pathetic innuendo. Men are stupid. Always will be. It will only be a matter of time before I escape and ram your slaphead face through the fucking wall. If I was free now I'd knock your fucking head off and shit down your neck."

"Full of life! I like it. I'll come up with something special for you."

"If your dick comes anywhere near me I'll tear it off!”

"How amusing." Doctor Krell advanced, his cloak billowing behind him. "But that, my dear, would prove very difficult." He parted his cloak exposing an enormous glittering metal phallus, bristling with metal protrusions and pointed studs. "I call it the pneumatic fanny hammer. I designed it myself. One day you might be lucky enough to find yourself impaled upon it. Most women pass out after an hour on level three. For you, I'd go up to level five!" He approached closer, brandishing his shining weapon and the girls could hear a faint electric buzzing emanating from the glinting shaft.
 
Horrified, Myra recoiled. Tyler appeared in the doorway.

"Ah, my friend, join us. I was just going to send for you. It's time they were shown to their cells and suitably dressed." Doctor Krell smiled.

"I see you know how to deal with my old boss." Tyler smiled, gesturing to the prone form twitching on the floor. As they watched, Carrie's designated Alien keeper lowered itself from the roof and collected her nimbly from the floor. Its limb's whiplashed around her as consciousness began to surface in her half-closed eyes.

"As a gift to my new male buddy," Doctor Krell slapped a hand on Tyler's shoulder. "I'll let you have her. I'll show you how to train her and everything. It's a most rewarding pastime. I'll need another pair of hands around here now the place is nearly ready."

"Cheers! Things are really look up for mankind. You really are a genius Doc. I'd never had thought of this in a million years!"

"Well, man as a species has always endeavored to pursue thrilling past times; bungee jumping, cloud sailing... We have a hundred-year-old tradition of themed holiday parks for the kids. Cartoonworld. Movietown. It's a natural progression to make one for adult men!" Krell gestured to the straining women who were looking increasingly forlorn. "What do you reckon, is "Vaginaville" too obvious a name?"

Myra felt sick with fear at the half-hinted propositions from the Doctor. She had to think of a plan of escape soon, a lunatic was running this planet!

"Anyway, it's about time we took them below and tucked them into bed for the night, eh?"

Krell clapped his hands and the main door slid open. Carrie's senses were returning slowly but as she opened her eyes, she questioned her own sanity as she saw what entered the room.

Image 8

 A woman, yet on all fours, fully five feet from the floor. Harnessed in glittering metal and straps. There appeared to be some sort of articulated limb extensions that made the woman so tall. They were multi-jointed and brutally strapped to the woman's arms and legs. A harness and neck brace kept her neck bent backwards and her head looking forward. What looked like a bridle between her teeth, led to straps across her back, and was that a saddle mounted at her rear? Stirrups too, near her thighs? Carrie blinked again. While she'd heard everything that had occurred in the past few minutes, her paralyzation had disoriented her to an alarming state. She was clearly hallucinating! For a minute there, Carrie thought she'd seen the Ministry for Male Resources' daughter, Latara, dressed as some sort of pony or something. She seemed to appear complete with glittering metal stilts strapped to her arms and legs, her naked ass high in the air, her head held back by a shining metal and leather collar assembly, and proudly thrusting her delicious breasts forward for inspection before Tyler and Krell. Ridiculous! But as she blinked again to clear her vision, Carrie knew it were true.

"Oh fuck!" She groaned feebly.

Krell grinned. "Nice ain't it. I picked her myself." He patted the female rump and then depressed a switch on his desk console. After a few moments, a tentacled creature arrived dragging a rack of three vertical trolley-style devices and a small suitcase. "Here's were the fun begins." 

The three women were arranged in a line. Myra was first. Krell ensured that the creature held her tight before placing the suitcase on the low table. Tyler grinned as he watched Krell dramatically flexing his fingers before he opened the suitcase and withdrew a heavy looking gun. Myra tried to squirm free, but the thing held her secure. A tentacle wrapped itself around the base of her right breast and constricted, forcing the orb to swell. The creature pulled tighter and the nipple darkened, engorged with blood. Myra screamed in pain and horror. It felt as though the tentacle was going to cut through her skin, it was so unbearably tight. Her nipple began throbbing and became frighteningly sensitive to the touch.

Krell leant forward and licked the reddening flesh. "Delicious!" He hefted the gun and placed the wide muzzle over the swollen nipple. There was a sudden bang and for a moment Myra thought he'd actually shot her with a bullet, before the agony caused her to buck violently in the vicelike grip. She howled in pain like a tortured animal. Something viciously sharp and red-hot had rent her tender flesh. Krell pulled a second trigger and a metallic click rang out. Withdrawing the gun, Krell exposed the livid breast. A thick, shining, metal ring had expertly pierced the nipple. "Not bad, eh? This dial here," Krell gestured to the gun, "Selects the ring diameter. The first trigger punctures and cauterises and the second trigger slams the ring into place. Permanently! Oh, and if they've been particularly troublesome, I sometimes forget to pull the first trigger." Her left breast was encircled and it too bulged forward. Helplessly, Myra tried to turn her shoulders in a futile attempt to move the breast out of his reach, but her aching and strained muscles were weak from continual exertion against the nameless thing that held her. As the sinister gun was lowered into position Myra opened her mouth to plead. A thick tentacle wrapped across her face biting deeply into her cheeks and effectively gagging her. Krell moved his face to within a few inches of Myra's. She could feel his hot breath as she searched his eyes for any sign of compassion as her own eyes widened to plead for mercy. He smiled slowly and his finger closed gently over the second trigger.

Myra's eyes widened in horror at the realisation that Krell was going to put a ring in her nipple without first piercing it! "Mmmmph, mmpph." She protested through the tentacle gag but to no avail.

The expected metallic sound was replaced by a more muted snap. Myra bucked horribly and the creature could barely hold the woman as she roared in agony. Through the gag she screamed as hard as she could, her throat sounding raw. Tears streaked her face. A trickle of blood ran warmly down her breast. "I'll do her genitals later," Krell said to Tyler with an air of nonchalance, "at the moment she is too traumatised to feel much more pain. It would be too kind to continue!"

Krell gestured to the creature and the helpless woman was placed against the trolley. A central metal post rose from the axle of the wide wheeled transport and was adorned with heavy leather straps and lengths of shining chain. A thick column angled upwards from the middle of the post to centre the woman. Myra was lowered onto it. She struggled feebly as it nudged against her anus. Krell pressed a button on the column and thick grease discharged from a small nozzle near the end. The lubricant spread over the head of the metal anchor, and Myra felt herself being slowly penetrated by the shaft. She gasped at the size; her anus stretched wide and gaping as it swallowed up the metal cylinder. A thick flange nestled against her perineum as she slid down the full length. She moaned in feeble protest at the pain of the unyielding cold metal that was embedded deep inside her.

A collar was fastened tightly around her neck. A wide, buckled strap secured her waist and supported her limp form vertically against the moulded metal trolley frame. She was too weak to oppose as Krell took a length of chain and threaded it though the gleaming nipple rings. Pulling tightly, he gave the ends of the chain to Tyler and told him to take up slack. Myra's breasts were pulled tautly away from her body, forming cones of quivering flesh. She whimpered as Doctor Krell encircled the stretched breasts with tight fitting leather straps. He heaved at the buckles, tightening the leather until it bit deeply into the soft flesh. Tyler released the chains and as the breasts attempted to return to their original shape, the stricture caused them to form taut, painful-looking spheres. The skin became shiny under the pressure and started to look painfully red.

Doctor Krell pulled Myra's limp arms tightly against her body and wrapped a number of thin straps across her, securing both arms helplessly at her sides. Her fingers were slipped into a sheath. That too was tightened to prevent even the slightest of flexing. The straps across her made the delicate skin bulge in all the right places. They were needlessly tight, far more severe than what would be necessary to merely restrain the girl. They were aesthetically arranged to accentuate the curves of her womanhood. Two bands crossed between her breasts, separating them and pulling them proudly higher. Her legs were spread slightly and the knees bent back until the backs of the heels touched her buttocks either side of the central metal stanchion, where they were buckled firmly into place by a pair of strategically mounted restraints. Krell appraised his work. She was a naked column of tightly bound flesh criss-crossed with brutal black leather straps and glittering, heavy metal chains.

However, the lengths of chain through the nipple rings were left dangling across her imprisoned, vulnerable nakedness. "What are those for?" Tyler queried.

"Have patience my friend. All will be explained." Krell detached a curved metal cylinder from the front of the trolley. It was about seven inches long and about three inches thick, with a length of chain that ended in a steel ring. "Observe." He placed the rounded end of the cylinder, which as Tyler could now see was pitted with rows of small protruding nodules, between her spread thighs and began to slowly push the shining metal length inside her vagina. He held the outer labia apart and aimed the device towards her lower back working it left and right as he pushed it in. After some initial resistance the gleaming length slid into place and the curvature of the cylinder anchored the device against the inside of her pelvis to prevent slippage. As her senses returned, Myra began groaning and whimpering with fear. The cold metal intruders forced her tender orifices wide open, and kept them at such stretched diameters that she began to wonder if the skin would tear. The double penetration felt hideous. Never in her life could she have imagined such a crime against a woman's person. The elastic skin between her legs was bulging and red, stretched to it's limit. The whole scenario was all so outlandish and ghoulish that Myra began to pray that she was dreaming. Her nipples blazed with red-hot agony and she couldn't move a muscle. She was bound so tightly to the trolley's frame, that she could only take shallow breaths as the straps crossing her ribcage afforded very little leeway for her panting lungs. Her own body weight kept her impaled on the terribly wide anal prong.

Metal footsteps rang off the floor as the pony transport, Latara, was steered around and reversed into place before the bound Myra. Krell pulled on the long nipple chains and attached them to a harness hanging from the rear of the pony girl. He also took the chain that hung between Myra's legs and attached that too. He adjusted the harness until the chains were taut. Tyler could see how the three women could be led along in their trolleys behind the pony girl, being pulled by chains on their nipples and the dildo devices.

"Simple really." Krell smiled to Tyler. "An energy saving device primarily, although it is rather a fun way to get about. Saves on fuel and brings you off at the same time." He rubbed his hand along the exposed rump of the pony transport and gave it a few playful slaps. "And of course, it teaches women their true place in society."

Carrie had been silent while watching the incarceration of her colleague, horrified almost to the point of disbelief, but she could contain her fury no longer. Zyrinka shook her head as Carrie opened her mouth in an attempt to warn her, but the captain was livid and had to be heard. "You are mad Krell, this is insane!"

"Come now, Captain Simmons, if I was really a mad scientist I'd have an enormously expensive underground monorail that went really slow to take you to your cells!"

"What are you going to do with us?"

Image 9

"You'll find out when you begin the training in the morning. As I said, I'm not a mad scientist," Krell chuckled, "I'm hardly going to tell you my entire plans for this complex then leave you in an easily escapable predicament. Enough of this banter! While it has undoubtedly been fun hearing a female opinion, it doesn't exactly make for intelligent conversation." He snapped his fingers and the creatures holding Zyrinka and Carrie lowered the women into position over the remaining two trolleys. Zyrinka was secured to the second trolley. Krell had appreciated her submission so far, and more to add to Carrie's suspense and keep her waiting as a crude punishment than for any sympathetic tendencies towards Zyrinka, Krell took his time over the matter and used both triggers of the piercing gun on each of her nipples. Zyrinka still screamed and thrashed with pain, but at least she had the privilege of having holes through her nipples before the two ends of the steel ring were mated. He took his time over the task, knowing that each moment added to the fear for the mouthy captain. "See how easy it can be when I use both triggers." Krell gestured to Zyrinka's sobbing form, writhing with the pain from her nipples. "She hardly felt a thing. But you have spoken out of turn a number of times already and you have only been here a few hours!"

Carrie saw the look on Krell's face as he approached her and knew that she was going to be badly hurt. She tried putting on a brave face, but the glistening of tears in the corners of her eyes gave away her terror. "Well, my dear, I see that you are no longer so quick to oppose me. Now perhaps you will begin to understand your situation better."

"Please," Carrie whimpered.

"Please pierce your nipples?" Krell laughed. "Well, that's a first! I've never had one beg me to do this!" He hefted the gun.

As Carrie attempted to absolve herself and submit, Krell roughly jammed the gun over her jutting breast and pulled the second trigger. The two ends of the steel ring, one concave, one convex, met inside her nipple; the erectile tissue caught between was shorn away by the electric snap, which spot-welded the ring permanently shut. For a moment she looked disbelievingly at Krell. Time seemed to freeze for a second as she took in her surroundings. Krell grinning, complete with flecks of spit at each corner of his mouth. Tyler, standing behind his shoulder looking on with a cruel smirk. Latara staring blindly ahead, a cybernetic amalgamation of woman and horse, trailing two living statues of femininity from a series of glittering chains. The creatures hanging from the roof. The entire scene lit by the lurid glow of a silver alien sun through the massive windows. The scene was as disturbing as Bosch, as perversely dark and disturbing as Geiger, and yet, it was horribly real.

The pain hit like a wave and she bucked uncontrollably like a caged animal. Carrie was completely blinded and could hardly breathe with the pain of the first piecing before Krell shot a second ring this time through the left nipple. Carrie was unable to make a sound. She had completely lost control of herself. She fought against the restraints with an almost bestial fervour. The trolley rattled and actually rolled a few inches across the floor. Then her breath came in gasps, rapidly at first, then slowing as she tried to regain composure.

"Aaaaaaaaaarrrgh," she screamed as hot salty tears stung her eyes and ran down her face. The scream fractured into sobs and she hung her head in despair.

"Smarts does it?" Tyler smirked.

The chains were fed through Carrie's nipple rings and attached to the rear of Zyrinka's trolley. The three women formed a line behind the Pony transport. They whimpered faintly as Doctor Krell pulled their restraints and tugged on their chains to make sure that everything was secure. Krell gestured to Tyler and pointed to the wheels of each trolley. "See around the wheel base there is a metallic strip?" Tyler nodded as he saw the glinting metal connections. "There are strategic floor plates inside this compound were the trolleys will cross live components. That is one of the reasons I've equipped you with insulated shoes, by the way. There is a resistor of course within the trolley frame so as not to fry the merchandise! It's reduced to a painful level, not nice at all really, but it is just about as perfect a way to stop any escape attempts. The ponies are insulated too. But, it also keeps our friends here on their toes." He gestured to the statues of womanhood cocooned by straps on their trolleys. "It's a good distance to their cells from here and we cross a number of live areas. They won't know where or when the current will strike. It makes for some suspense on their part I assure you." Krell removed three facemasks from a shelf. "With these on they won't even be able to see where they are being taken. Although there's no chance of escape, I see no point in giving them any idea of the direction they are travelling."

The masks were made of a tight fitting black latex with an built in inflatable gag. After the women were zipped into the hoods, rendering them blind and deaf to their surroundings, Krell removed a short thick wand from his belt. He attached it to a small valve at the mouthpiece of the mask and a brief hiss sounded. Tyler could see the women trembling as he repeated the process on each of the girls. "I'm expanding their gags from the inside," Krell explained. "They can't even move so much as their tongues!" Tyler looked closer at one of the hoods and saw a number of small perforations in the rubber, allowing the women to breathe.

Krell put his foot in Latara's stirrup and vaulted into the rear-mounted saddle. The hydraulics of the leg attachments adjusted to his weight with an audible hiss. Latara herself seemed to stiffen under the exertion of supporting the Doctor. Her breasts, laden with weights attached to the nipple rings, swayed as Krell shifted in the saddle to make himself comfortable. He pressed a button on a remote controller attached to his utility belt, and a second pony girl, replete with pistoning leg attachments and swinging breast weights, walked in. Tyler had remembered seeing her sometime in the past, perhaps she had been a colleague of Carrie's from the academy, but he couldn't place a name to the face. Krell gestured that he should mount her.

Hesitantly Tyler put his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself onto the saddle, mounted as it was, slightly away from the rear of the woman.

When sitting comfortably, he found that he was presented with her vagina and anus at the same level as his own crotch. Krell suggested he might like to freely enter the orifice of his choosing. Tyler adjusted himself in the saddle slightly, feeling the suspension in the metal leg braces absorb the movement, and he momentarily paused to admire the design, before slipping his meat into the pony girl's anus. He felt the tight sphincter ring give a bit before allowing him full entry and saw with satisfaction the girl's shoulders hunching with the discomfort. Smiling, he enjoyed the warmth of the soft flesh enclosing his penis. It was such a pleasure to be able to be the fuck-er and not the fuck-ee for a change! He savoured a few leisurely strokes into the twitching back passage, satisfied that this was a form of transport he could easily warm to.

Krell explained to Tyler how to steer. The reigns attached to her headpiece had a solid plastic control panel attached which was almost like a child's video game controller. There were buttons to designate faster or slower, left or right, and stop, with an ingenious method of implementing these directions. Small attachments on the inside of the elaborate harness would deliver an electric charge, albeit small, to areas of her body. A jolt to the centre of her torso to make her stop; a blast on the rump to urge her to go faster; left side to cause her to turn right; and vice versa. Altogether a cunning way of utilising the bodies reflexes to recoil from pain into an effective means of accurate directional control.

"I even have a dirt track outside to occasionally race them when I have guests. Can be a bit hairy going around the corners fast though, but if they fall, they don't get fed!" He laughed. "It's a great incentive for them to remain sure footed!" Krell patted Latara's rump and Tyler imagined he saw her flinch slightly in remembrance of some past event. They looked behind them at the restrained cargo. "Trille will be brought along to the pens when she recovers suitably. Shouldn't be more than a few days at the longest. Anyway, can't sit here yacking all day. Let's go!" Krell depressed a switch and there was the faintest of gasps from Latara, before she began to move towards the large exit doors. As the chains attached to Myra's breasts and vagina tightened, her trolley moved forward with a lurch, and she struggled feebly to try and reduce the tension but her painful efforts were utterly futile. Her head shook from side to side in abject despair.

The second trolley jolted as the chains connecting Zyrinka pulled tight. Carrie gasped in surprise and pain shortly after, and the trio rattled across the floor to the exit. Tyler spurred his mount slowly forward with a jab on the control pad. A small electrical snap indicated that the controls were working perfectly. She moved off following the procession, the metallic clicks of the metal leg attachments sounding almost like hooves on the steel floor. He steered her slightly left towards the door and was rewarded with a few sphincter spasms around his cock as she recoiled from the small shocks received.

They were led along a subterranean path that descended slightly. The way seemed to spiral very gradually downwards and Tyler could gauge that they were heading in towards the centre of the massive crater. In the short time he'd been here since being carried off from the Hyperion, he'd been given food, an apartment near Krell's study and a fine array of clothes. He hadn't really had much time to explore the area or even question his surroundings such was the enthused hospitality of his host.

His concentration was interrupted when first Myra, then Zyrinka, and finally Carrie began to twitch erratically in their bonds. For a moment, he was confused, before remembering about the electrified floors. Sparks flashed briefly from the wheels of the trolleys. Doctor Krell turned and with a hearty laugh gave a "thumbs up" sign. Tyler laughed too. Surely this man was a living genius. He couldn't wait to learn what was in store for the women.

When they finally reached the containment area, Tyler was amazed at the number of cells. It was a massive, seven-story cavern cut from the rock, with glittering metal walkways and a huge freight elevator connecting the floors. Tyler was almost reminded of a hive, each row of identical cells stretching off into the distance. They could see a number of the creatures nimbly swinging across the walls and ceilings as they went about their tasks. Krell led the group to the far end of the passageway and into the huge elevator. As soon as they stopped the elevator clanked into life, a klaxon sounded and they were hauled up to the third floor. The three women began to writhe again and make muffled noises, clearly the elevator floor was live too.

The procession stepped out onto the walkway and was led about a hundred yards past dozens of shining cell doors. Tyler peeked in at a few and could occasionally see a female suspended from the roof in an elaborate harness. They finally halted, dismounted. Carrie was detached from the trolley line and manually wheeled into her designated cell.

The room was barely ten feet square. The walls were bare rock, glistening with moisture. From the centre of the roof, a harness of leather straps and clanking metal fastenings hung down. Tyler also noticed a circular hole in the ceiling in the left-hand corner of the cell. "The Kraken use that to travel from cell to cell to feed our slaves and empty their waste tanks," Krell explained in answer to Tyler's unspoken query.

"Kraken?"

"The creatures which inhabit these catacombs. It's a reference to an old English word meaning a mythical creature of the depths. It's from a poem by Tennyson. On Earth of course they were referring to ocean depths, but here, as most of this planet's water is in the atmosphere or collected in vast underground oceans, I took a little liberty with the name. I think it suits them don't you think?" He gestured around him. "They helped carve these walls to my specifications."

"How did you make contact with them?"

"When the colonists and I arrived they were losing their war with the plants despite living beneath the surface. The crawling, flesh-eating flora from above invaded their caverns. The probing roots would bore through the very rock itself. We offered them shelter. Our caverns, with their Electro shielding and metal plated walls were a sanctuary for them. In return, they helped us build this huge complex. Of course once we learned that women had enslaved men back home on Earth, we utilised their great strength and many limbs to restrain our womenfolk here in case they got any ideas!"

Krell pulled a lever on the wall and the harness was lowered. He clipped a number of hooks onto loops welded to the back of the trolley and took up the slack. Reaching down to the base of Carrie's trolley he depressed a lever and the wheeled section separated from the support pillar leaving Carrie slowly revolving, suspended a few feet from the floor. "Nifty, eh?" 

Krell returned to the lever on the wall and returned it to its former position. Carrie was effortlessly hauled higher into the air and swung forward, hanging parallel to the floor. Gasping noises of shock issued from the mask and her head frantically twisted against the bonds to try and gauge her positioning, such was her disorientation. She rocked slowly back and forth and the leather straps creaked gently. Krell carefully unscrewed the end of the silver dildo that protruded from between her thighs, removing the chain attachment that had connected her so securely to Zyrinka's trolley on their journey. He then drew a length of flexible tubing from the wall, which reminded Tyler of a miniature fire-hose. He screwed the end of the hose into the flange of the dildo attachment and after a few minutes poking about and adjusting the fitting, he pulled a leather strap tightly around the back of her thighs where it fastened to the suspending harness. "That's her urinary tract catheterised and hosed. When the sensors mounted in the crotch piece pick up sufficient moisture levels, a pump will begin to suck the urine away down this tube. Now I'll have to do the same with her shitter."

Image 10

Doctor Krell removed a plug from the back of the anal prong which had been centring her on the trolley rack, and now, still buried deep inside her, suspended woman for a moment to take up the slack before allowing the weights to fall freely. The nipple rings jolted as they arrested the weights' descent. Carrie sobbed beneath the mask as the fresh agony lanced through her newly pierced nipples like hot needles. She struggled against the straps that held her but realised that it was futile. Krell whispered in her ear softly. "Try and escape." He paused for effect. "Please. It will only give me an excuse to punish you further."

The two men paused at the door before leaving. "She will be kept this way for a few weeks at least. By the time she gets let down she will be begging for mercy. Of course it won't be forthcoming."

"Is it really that tortuous just to hang there? I mean it doesn't look all that terrible. Is it as bad as that Chinese dripping water thing?" Tyler asked.

"I don't know, I've never been so subtle as to try that kind of crap myself, but it's not all just hanging around. At random intervals one of the Kraken will drop down into her cell and lash the fuck out of her with a cat o' nine tails."

The other women were fitted in their cells in a similar fashion and Tyler was returned to his quarters. Over the next week Trille joined the three suspended girls in an adjacent cell once her biology had finally returned to normal. They were kept dangling in their cells and repeatedly whipped by the gruesome Kraken who seemed to revel in their roles as captors. Sometimes, if a particular Kraken took a shine to a woman, it would return almost hourly to her particular cell, and silently drop down from the roof to deliver a flurry of stinging lashes from long lengths of leather cord before vanishing again without warning. Consequently, the girls lived in a nightmare world of constant, heart pounding terror. Desperately they strained to listen for any indication of a noise from the outside world and lived in fear of the liquid noises heralding the arrival of a Kraken, not knowing whether it would deliver food or intense pain. Their hoods were never removed and they were fed a liquid solution delivered via a tube after the removal of the central plug in their gags. They had no idea of time or space as they hung in their dark chilly cells. Each one learning the true meaning of despair.

Carrie was given special treatment by a singularly evil looking brute. It would lash her quivering buttocks with such fierce strokes that she would often pass out from the pain. The creature would continue until it could no longer hear her muffled cries and then slither up the wall and through the aperture leaving her to recover for a number of hours before returning to administer the brutal lashing again. In between the assaults, Carrie fought against her captivity. Her arms ached with the constant struggling to free herself. She tried to work the straps loose by repeatedly pushing her limbs outwards and retracting them afterwards, but the cold leather of the harness was more resilient than she'd anticipated and her efforts were in vain. She spent hours weeping into the rubber hood, the wet tears escaping through the breathing perforations and dripping silently onto the earthen floor of her cave-like cell as she slowly swung back and forth, the harness rocking and creaking gently with each stifled sob.


4
THE TAMING ROOMS

Tyler was given the freedom of the complex barring the central area of the volcano crater and command centre. He often galloped his female steed, which he named Poonani, down the dank corridors to the cells and peered in at the captive women. Most women were removed for a week or so at a time for training but Krell didn't want Tyler to witness this part of the operation yet. He was saving it for when Tyler's former captain and crew were due for their own conditioning. Some women were only taken out of their cells daily to perform certain menial tasks, these were often the older women colonists, while not entirely unattractive, Tyler was not surprised to learn that Krell's standards of female beauty were exactingly high. Tyler could also fuck any of the slaves that took his fancy and he was often to be found buried to the hilt and thrusting madly into the orifices of the more beautiful women that Krell had amassed. He went through three navigators in one afternoon. Elizabeth from the Shenendoah, Karla, her second officer, and Raquel of the colonists, a delicious red head with the largest real breasts he'd ever seen in his life. Krell himself spent most days in his private laboratories and occasionally went to the command centre where the colonist males worked tirelessly expanding the underground complex into the crater and monitoring transmissions back on Earth. Tyler had initially worried that there would be a warship sent to destroy the planet, Central Command having lost two ships here already, but Krell again impressed him with his forward thinking.
 
"I have recently been working on a voice simulator. It was first brought into play when I impersonated Carrie Simmons and tricked you into opening the Hyperion's hold. I used it to inform Earth that everything here was well in control and the ship was undergoing repairs. I also said that the colony was doing fine and it was only the disruptive nature of our turbulent climate that had prevented transmissions and forced the ships into emergency landings. Of course," Krell laughed, "I used Carrie's and Latara's voices for this message. I shouldn't think they'd bother us for a few months at least. As far as Earth is concerned the women are gathering enough sperm samples to re-populate the planet!"

"Well, they're certainly getting more than their fair share of spunk out of me."

"That's the spirit, my friend." Krell poured himself a drink and gazed out of the window of his spacious study. "Tomorrow I think I'll begin training your former masters. And in the process, train you to become a Master of women yourself."

Tyler returned to his quarters rubbing his hands in almost childish delight. He sprawled back onto his bunk and relaxed. A Kraken dropped from the roof and poured him a large draught of chilled wine. "Thanks, my ugly friend." He smiled. Despite their apparent servility, Tyler felt that it was akin to having a monstrously ugly, aquatic gorilla serving on him, and he felt that he would never feel entirely safe so near to such a powerful creature. He felt uneasy as it squatted darkly with its livid blood-red eyes. "Why don't you fetch me Elizabeth tonight? That blonde girl, who gets hung upside-down in her cell. I haven't used her since yesterday and she has the tightest ass!" He mimed the shape of the girl and indicated her posture. The Kraken absorbed this thoughtfully then slithered up the wall and returned through the door barely twenty minutes later with a woman heavily strapped upside down to a trolley. "Ah. Excellent."

The lurid silver sun rose slowly into the cloud choked sky, already the morning temperature was topping eighty degrees, and the foliage surrounding the crater glittered and steamed. Inside the subterranean complex, Krell had readied a number of training rooms specifically for the incarcerated crew of the Hyperion. Tyler yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Elizabeth, still hanging from a cradle of straps over his bed, had really taken it out of him last night. Stretching, he dressed and met Krell in the main corridor. Myra, Trille, Zyrinka and Carrie were strapped into their trolleys and pulled along by Latara and Poonani. The women were deathly silent. The week's confinement and torture had had the desired effect. Each one was disoriented and devastated by the physical and mental stress they'd endured. At each slight noise, such as the scuff of a boot on the floor or the slightest clink of metal, the women would whimper and stiffen in their bonds.

Krell turned to Tyler as they rode their mounts to a new area of the complex, deep beneath the command centre. Finally, Tyler was going to see the training rooms. "I've decided the fate of each of the crew. I think you're gonna like this. I had this training centre built specifically to prepare women for their future roles in my organisation. There is only so much you can do to break their spirit with whips and bondage, you need a more specialised sensory assault to mould them into the finished article, bend their will, shape their pliable bodies to my specifications, make them realise their true potential."

They arrived at a metal hallway with numerous doors. They dismounted and Krell detached Trille from the procession and pulled her trolley along behind him by her nipple chains. He led her through the first door and Tyler eagerly followed.

The small room overlooked an expansive maze of white metal walls built across the floor of a huge cavern, reminiscent of where one might find laboratory rats being put through their paces, yet hundreds of feet across and large enough for a woman to crawl through. Trille was detached from her trolley and a Kraken dropped from the hole in the roof to restrain her while Krell took a tight fitting black latex outfit from a hanger on the wall. She was carefully fastened into it, as it was an all-in-one piece that covered her entire body and head, barring an open area for her face and a circular opening at the crown through which Krell pulled Trille's hair allowing it to cascade across her shiny black shoulders. Circular apertures allowed her breasts to hang free, while a large opening at the rear exposed her bulging sex organs to scrutiny. Both legs were bent back, the calves strapped tightly flush to the backs of her thighs. Her wrists too, were fastened tightly to cuffs mounted on the shoulders with her hands pulled forward and strapped down to eliminate all finger movement. A separator bar was attached to her knees keeping her legs apart and, satisfied that this part of the operation was complete, Krell bade the Kraken to release her. She fell to the floor and landed on her elbows and knees. Krell attached a thick collar, which forced her head forward. Connected to the collar was a gag and blinders, which he pulled tightly across her face. Her breathing was reduced to short bursts from flaring nostrils as she adjusted to her restricted posture and incredibly tight sheathing. Krell took from a shelf a number of straps with small rectangular metal boxes attached. He connected these carefully, one to each thigh and a third around her waist. Submissively, Trille allowed him to brutally tighten the straps to a point were she must have felt pain. Tyler admired the man's control. The women that Tyler had seen around the base were truly subservient in every way to Krell and the other male colonists, proudly affirming their womanhood by pleasuring men in any way possible.

Krell attached weights to her nipples and with a pair of chains draped across her arched back, linked each big toe to her collar preventing her from flexing her feet and limiting her locomotion to her knees and elbows. Krell crossed the room to a small hatch, dragging Trille by her hair.

Image 11

Tyler could see that it was a very uncomfortable way of moving. She half scuttled and was half dragged. Her shoulders and hips were gyrating to move her tightly bound arms and legs. Krell pushed her through the small doorway into a dumbwaiter, which lowered her into the starting point of the maze. Blinded by the costume, the woman staggered awkwardly on her elbows and tipped forward. The copper weights hanging from her nipples connected with the metallic floor of the maze for a fraction of a second and there was a brief flash of blue sparks. Through her gag, Trille shrieked and pulled her chest high away from the floor. This gave her an excellent posture. Through a large window, the two men could see her arched back and proudly thrusting buttocks. Krell handed Tyler a small handset.

"Remote control." Krell explained as he sat upon a barstool overlooking the maze. A hatch opened and a pair of chilled beers slid across the worktop. "Take a seat. This is thirsty work you know."

"Thanks, I don't mind if I do." Tyler settled next to Krell and took a chug from the chilled bottle.

"I prefer imported beer, stronger, more flavour," Krell said with an air of authority.

"Using this," Tyler gestured with the handset and it's multiple buttons. "Do I have to guide her around the maze somehow?"

"Sort of." Krell depressed a switch and a panel slid open on the far side of the maze. A Kraken squirmed into the corridors and began wailing terribly. Tyler shivered at the noise. It was the same sound that he'd heard as he'd been knocked unconscious on the Hyperion. Somewhere between the howl of a wolf and the screech of a bird of prey but more evil and terrible than both. It was chilling, and hard to believe that this humanoid thing was in fact a distant ancestral cousin of humanity. But then the universe was known to be a hotbed of variety, even when originating from the same basically human source.

Beneath them they could see Trille stiffen with fear. "She saw the maze when she came in. I doubt if she could have memorised it of course, and we can change the layout using this panel anyway, but she has now been given an incentive. She won't know what has made that noise and she won't be able to see it. But she will hear it and imagine what could be creating it, and there is where the fear lies. I'm sure she'll want to flee this unknown terror that we've introduced. Those boxes I strapped to her give off the Kraken mating pheromone and also, when directed by your handset, instantly deliver electric shocks to sensitive areas on her body. Zap her on the right side to turn left and vice versa. She'll recoil from the blast and turn in the direction indicated. I think you get the picture."

"So that's how you train the pony transports!"

"Yup! Good isn't it!" Krell admired his own intellect. "I saw her potential as a transport the moment I set eyes on her. Long limbed, young, strong. The perfect candidate."

"So where do I steer her to? Is there a safe area in the middle of the maze or something where that thing can't get to her?"

"You still have a lot to learn yet my friend!" Krell threw his head back and bellowed with laughter. "Safe place? Safe place? Do you think I'm a feminist? Heavens no! We let her run herself into the ground until she blacks out either from the electrified floor or exhaustion!"

Tyler felt somewhat aggrieved but admitted his folly. The aim was to train the woman to respond instinctively, like an animal, to his directions, removing all independent thought. The creature was supposed to catch her a few times to painfully lash at her backside and plunge it's tentacles into her sex. It all added to the fun!

Trille began to crawl forward on her elbows and knees, frantically picking up speed to escape the unknown pursuer. Tyler jabbed a button on the handset. Squealing, Trille flinched and veered to one side. Tyler jabbed the button a few more times until she had traversed through a full 90 degrees and could safely continue without running into a wall. The Kraken wailed again and she redoubled her efforts, stumbling forward a few times and electrocuting herself on the live floor. Her exposed arse cheeks quivered as the jolt shook her body. Krell laughed as his Kraken gained on her. Tyler zapped Trille forcing her to make a right then a left. The Kraken paused to sniff the air before following her down the correct paths. The bound woman was using every ounce of strength to propel herself forward ignoring the discomfort from the hard metal floor on her elbows. The shining latex of the costume sparkled beneath the strip lights above the maze as she squirmed forward, her chains clinking.

"Bet you it catches her within ten seconds!" Doctor Krell joked.

10...

Trille squirmed round a corner and Tyler hit the acceleration button to drive her down a straight. She felt the crackle of electricity on her behind and fearing that IT was closing on her from behind, redoubled her effort into the flight. Sweat from her exertions in the clinging latex suit added to the aroma that excited the pursuing creature.

9...8...7...

The Kraken was nearing the junction she was escaping from. Tyler had to turn her fast else it would see her down the long corridor of the maze.

6...5...4...

He jabbed the handset and Trille took a right, bouncing painfully off the walls of the maze, her eyes wide with pure fear and a keening whimper escaping her gag. He urged her faster again to put a bit of space between the pony trainee and her pursuer.

3...2...1...

The Kraken picked up the scent again and slithered after her on a writhing mass of tentacles.

...0...
 
The creature was still a few feet away from the wobbling naked rear of the They could hear her trying to scream in fear as tears ran terrified girl. freely down her cheeks from behind the blinders.

"Excellent!" Krell laughed. "You controlled her with a passion. I think you're going to make a fine trainer!"

Tyler relinquished the controls and the woman was caught. The Kraken whip-lashed his limbs across her and even from behind the glass of the observation window they could hear her hoarse cries through the gag as he took her. Krell took the handset and placed it into a wall socket. "The computer will direct her from now on. The collar measures her vital signs and when she totally blacks out she'll be removed." Krell paused. "Until she wakes up of course and finds herself there again. Apparently the Kraken have a quite uniquely ridged dick that hurts like hell. She'll never run out of motivation, that's for sure. Come, we have another three to deal with yet."

*****

Myra was next. She was taken into a room with an industrial loading crane mounted to a dais in the centre. "Myra is too stocky for a pony transport. Instead she will serve as a table." Announced Krell, removing her with a slurping noise from the central shaft of the trolley.

"Excuse me, I don't think I heard you right, I thought you said you were using her as a table!" Tyler laughed.

"You heard correct. I have a perfect patio set waiting for a table. Imagine if you will, hot summer evenings, with a glass of cold beer in your hand, sitting watching that silver alien sun go down behind that living jungle with your cock comfortably jammed into her mouth." Krell stared ahead as if picturing the scene; a smile forming on his lips "her lithe body doubled over supporting the table from beneath."
 
Tyler tried to imagine and came pretty close. Myra overhead some of what was being said from beneath the latex hood and began to sob.

Krell dragged the whimpering bound naked woman across the uneven rocky floor and halted beneath the crane. Tyler could see a number of lengths of chain and some large weights hanging from a hook mounted to the side of the crane. Krell removed another piercing gun from his pocket and whispered to Myra. "It's time for your next assignment, Number Two."

Myra whimpered softly. Krell held her legs apart as she lay on the floor and centred the gun over her mons. A horrible realisation dawned over the girl and she began to writhe in her bonds. Krell pressed the gun hard against her clitoris and pulled the first trigger sending a burning needle through the soft fleshy nub. Without waiting for the screams he pulled the second trigger too. She thrashed in agony, her eyes impossibly wide, but she was so securely bound that she could only rock from side to side. Krell lowered the crane's hook using a control panel. He attached her nipple rings, and the newly attached clitoris ring, to the chain dangling from the crane's joist. He made sure that each attachment was secure and then attached a safety belt about her narrow waist. This was also connected to the crane. "No sense in simply tearing the rings out of the skin when we hoist her up." He confided to Tyler. "The belt will support some of her weight, but not nearly as much as she'd want."

Myra cried softly into her mask. Krell pulled a lever and the crane raised her a few feet from the floor. She kicked up as much fuss as she could but it amounted to little more than a keening wail. When he was satisfied that he had enough room to work beneath her, Krell halted her ascent. He untied her arms from her sides and pulled them down, cuffing them together before she could attempt to free herself. Krell did the same to her legs, pulling them backward to meet her arms and securing all of her limbs beneath the crying woman. Bent backwards, like the acrobatic "crab" position, and suspended by her nipple and clitoris rings, Myra's body blazed with pain. Then he reached up and gathered a handful of Myra's short hair. He snapped a ring tight to her scalp and fed a piece of chain through it, to Myra it felt that he was pulling her hair out by the roots but she was helpless to protest. He also took from an attachment on the side of the crane, a massive anal plug with a thick chain hanging from one end. Greasing the head of the butt plug, he forced it into her, ignoring her distress as her anus was brutally widened.

Tyler watched, fascinated, as Krell went to the crane and raised Myra again. This time the dangling girl was so high that the two men could both walk beneath her. Krell hefted a large weight before him. He set it down on the floor directly under her gathered hands and feet. Three thick but short chains were attached to the weight and he connected the central chain to the band joining her wrists and ankles. The second chain connected to the loop attached to her hair, and the third he connected to the chain hanging from the massive anal dildo. Krell returned to the crane.

"This is it." He pressed a button and the machine lifted her higher still. The chains clanked together, grew taut and then stiffened as the weight was lifted from the floor and suspended beneath her arched back. "Her muscles and sinews will be stretched and strained the first few times we do this but after a while she'll be quite accustomed to being bent back like that."

"So she'll bend over backwards to please us!" Tyler quipped.

"Now you're getting it. The computer will lower and raise her at intervals so as not to damage her spine too much. There's no sense in spoiling the merchandise!"

"You must be quite an expert at these things." Krell feigned modesty and shrugged.

"Well I have incarcerated nearly two thousand colonist females and two hundred crew from the Shenendoah, so these four, no matter how self important they feel, are just commodities. Rather nice though, I have to admit!"

Image 12

Myra closed her eyes and tried to block out the unbearable tension that her body was being subjected to. Her ribs ached when she tried to draw a breath and it felt like her arms were being torn from their shoulder sockets by the weight suspended beneath her. A single tear fell from the corner of her eye, catching the light as it fell. The cell door slid closed behind Tyler and Krell leaving her hanging alone. The lights went out, plunging her into darkness. A spasm of fear shook her and the involuntary jolt sent the massive pendulous weight swinging. Myra moaned in pain as she felt the terrible pull of the momentum on the massive anal plug. It felt as if the huge dildo would tear itself free, her sphincter muscle distended unbearably for a moment sending pain lancing through her, before the swinging weight changed direction and the majority of the pull was transferred to the chain attached to her hair band. Myra closed her eyes and bit hard on the gag as the impetus of the agony changed. She clenched all her muscles, as rigidly as she could, and after an interminable time the heavy weight beneath her finally halted it's pendulous swinging.

She fought against the tears and the almost reflexive urge to sob, which would surely betray her efforts to control her swaying, and send the weight swinging again. Her nipples and clitoris blazed with the agony of supporting her own body weight and that of Krell's evilly hefty weight. The darkness and the constant pressure of being bent backwards began to play tricks on her mind; she thought she could hear something moving and for a horrible second she thought it was a Kraken. She flinched uncontrollably and the weight began to sway. A gasp of pain escaped her. The chains supporting her clicked as her position changed. That was all she had heard. In the darkness Myra thought she could see pin pricks of light from the corners of her eyes. She tried to look for a point of reference that would orient her as she hung inverted but it was no use, the flashes of light were just phantoms conjured by her shattered mind. The room was pitch black. Veins bulged in her neck, such was the tension in her bent spine. Like a coiled spring constantly on the brink of snapping with the intensity of the torsion, Myra hung in the cold darkness of Krell's training cell, and prayed for an end to her suffering.

*****

Zyrinka was wheeled into her own dimly lit torture room. In the centre of the metal panelled prison, there was an acrylic partitioned wall divided lengthways with a number of strategically placed openings. More aptly it could be described as a block of plastic split into two halves.

Zyrinka was removed from her trolley and forced her in between the two partitions. Blinded by the hood, she clumsily obeyed his every instruction. She hoped in vain for a respite from the hanging tortures that she'd endured so far. She was oblivious as to the suffering of her fellow crew, and couldn't possibly imagine what was in store for her next. Tyler watched with a rapidly escalating woody. He'd finally figured out the partition's diabolical design intent, and he couldn't wait to see the unsuspecting Zyrinka fully installed.

Her head was thrust through an aperture in the partitioned wall, complete with a built in chin rest. The hole was quite low down in the wall and about crotch height so she was required to stoop forward somewhat and bend with her torso to a horizontal before a buckled strap was pulled tight through the loops in her collar to secure her head in place. The chin rest held her with neck bent awkwardly back, and face presented forwards. A button was pressed and a faint whirring sounded as the aperture closed tight around her neck. Krell grabbed her nipple rings and callously pulled her breasts through two other openings set slightly lower than her head. A gasp escaped the girl as the two holes snapped closed tight around each breast causing them to swell with trapped blood. It appeared that the breast apertures had some sort of iris arrangement similar to the neck yoke. The holes could be reduced by using a small lever at the side of the partition. Smiling to himself, Krell moved the lever to maximum and watched the protruding tits harden into throbbing spherical balls of pressurised flesh as the gripping iris at the root almost severed them from her body. Tyler was fascinated by the tumescent darkening of the blood engorged nipples, sparing little thought to how it actually felt to the owner of those abused orbs. The sight of Zyrinka's tits converted to hard, bulging, balloon-like appendages was certainly uplifting. Krell slapped a breast and it rebounded like a resilient punch-ball and juddered to a painful stop.

The hinged rear partition was closed around the girl, compressing her bound arms even tighter to her sides and effectively encasing her. Two latches dropped into place to maintain the sections in the initial mode. Tyler's woody was reaching skin splitting levels. The dropping of the latches heralded the point of no return for Zyrinka. Before, she may just have managed to fight, force back the halves of the partition and escape, but now she was doomed. She was shut inside the two-foot thick plastic structure. The rear had a large shaped hole through which her delectably rounded buttocks were squeezed through, protruding beautifully and affording Tyler a marvellous view of her exposed cunt.

Krell pulled a lever and the two sections that were still some six inches apart, moved closer together. The visible bare flesh grew red with rising blood pressure as she was compressed, and the captive beauty gave vent to a prolonged groaning protest as she was squeezed and inexorably reduced down. Zyrinka's struggles grew frantic as the partition's fiendish potential finally burst upon her befuddled brain, but she must have known that the final outcome was never in doubt. The effect was similar to squeezing a fist full of dough and watching the excess being expelled at each side of the hand. Her exposed ass seemed to swell and tauten as it was literally extruded by the mounting pressure, and as it expanded, her buttock cleft spread till the crease was tautly stretched open and her neat puckering ass ring was blatantly exposed. Tyler looked on approvingly as the steady increase in compression swelled her blood engorged pussy lips into luxuriously rounded peach-like segments that were taut, pouting, and invitingly thrust backwards. The trapped woman struggled valiantly, but it was a futile waste of effort that manifest itself only as rapidly diminishing ripples of straining muscle and desperate mewing pleas. Krell exerted more pressure on the lever. Instantly the mewing stopped, and the breath wooshed out of the captive woman in a loud prolonged sound. He was deliberately closing the final gap slowly so as to extract maximum pleasure from the act of compressing the Amazonian female like a piece of dough.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurhg!"

The visible parts of Zyrinka's face bulged and turned scarlet and her extruded body parts seemed to inflate as the pressure increased. A loud fart sounded as the pressure forced air from her over stressed butt hole, and both men laughed. It was the final humiliation of the compacting process. A loud click signalled the engaging of a final locking device.

With the partition closed the final inch and securely locked together, Zyrinka was firmly sandwiched and reduced to a tightly compacted lump of fuckable womanhood. She gasped and strove to move her arms, but they were crushed still tighter against her sides and hidden within the moulded cavities of the wall's interior. All that remained on show of Zyrinka was her face and breasts on one side of the thick wall and her bared back passages on the other side. At the rear of the wall, what looked like a step jutted out at floor level and above her exposed, thrusting rump were two handles which projected out. Tyler could see that if he was to stand on the step, gripping both handles, her totally vulnerable orifices would be there for the raping and he would be able to get a hell of a lot of purchase with each thrust. Two extruded cushions of buttock and a choice of succulent female holes were there for the taking.

Image 13

Krell removed the blinders from her latex hood and Zyrinka's tear-streaked face looked up at the two men, her eyes begging for mercy. Faint mewing noise came from behind the gag to add to her image of helplessness. Her cheeks were bloated, eyes bugging out, and Tyler noticed that the extraordinary level of buttock extrusion he had seen at the rear was also evident in other visible body parts. The additional pressure created by the walls moving together ensured that Zyrinka's tits were bulging and seemingly about to burst, and her cheeks and reddened face were exhibiting all the same effects of extreme compression. The ball-like tits were hard to the touch, and the nipples felt like steel nodules. The captive woman mewed again and cast more pleading looks in his direction in the hope that he might release her from this terrible plight. No dice, thought Tyler, she's destined to be some sort of incredible fuck-object! Not just any fuck object, but a totally helpless, compressed, extruded, collection of warm female holes to thrust his throbbing dick into.
...
Fuck! She looked Sooooo good! A powerful nubile curvaceous amazon, all tightly squeezed up and shaped into a totally helpless bulging mass of impotency - a double ended gargoyle of straining, extruded, womanhood; tight skinned, unmoving and ready to be fucked by anyone happening upon her presented form. And those ballooning, spherical tits were something else. No doubt very painful for the owner, but what the hell, they were a male fantasy come true.

She could be fucked in any hole, and if required, service two men at either end without even the slightest possibility of movement or escape. Krell's machine had converted her into a solid, compacted mass of firm, unresisting, exciting fuckability. All her curvaceous attributes were swollen into delightful straining protuberances of pure lustful extravagance, with her various orifices instantly accessible. Tyler prodded her left buttock with a stiff finger and marvelled at how resilient her extruded components were. It was as if her butt and tits had been pumped up. He couldn't see with the partition closed, but in fact her waist was compressed to an incredible eleven-inch hourglass. It was a diabolically lustful spectacle to behold. The stiff finger probed her pussy. It was tight; deliciously tight due to the internal pressure. Maliciously he fisted his hand and thrust it in. The extruded rump tensed and writhed as sounds of muted disapproval sounded from the other side of the wall. He could feel the invaded pussy desperately contracting as the tightly squeezed fuck-object tried to reject the insertion, but to no avail. Zyrinka was so incredibly compacted she had become part of the wall; a wall that was bursting with taut female curves and warm inviting holes to fuck.

Krell motioned him back then pushed a button. A machine resembling a metal insect lowered from the ceiling of the room directly over the sandwiched girl with an ominous electric hum. Both men unconsciously moved further back, away from the threatening device, but the compressed Zyrinka could only strain and writhe impotently as the device approached. It made it all the worse that the men had moved back and yet she was left in the danger zone, unable to move a muscle to avoid the threatening device and with all three of her fuckable openings offered and solidly held in place.

Three rounded, phallic prongs jutted out on large mechanical arms from a central mechanism. The first rubbery prong centred itself over her mouth and began plunging in and out, oblivious to her startled gasp and expression of terror. The second prong, which was much larger and more solid, began to ram itself into her anus. The third and final prong, bigger still, was aimed slightly lower than the second and thrust powerfully into her vagina. The compacted block of femininity that was Zyrinka squirmed frenziedly but was tightly sandwiched between the two halves of the wall. Her openings were being ruthlessly used without mercy by the evil looking suspended machine.

"It'll continue randomly fucking her for hours. She'll experience various speeds, depths of thrust and even diameters of penetration. It should prepare her for a life in the shag-rack, which is where she's destined to live. From now on she's just a toy with holes." Krell pointed to the specially adapted front prong as it forced its rubbery way into her mouth. "That'll drip a few drops of food solution every few hours. She will no longer be fed by a Kraken in the night so in order to stay alive she's going to have to suck on that flexi-cock to get nourishment. By the time a man gets to put his dick in her face, she'll be so hungry he'll be lucky if she doesn't try to suck the balls out of his scrotum!" They both watched eagerly as the facial dildo suddenly expanded to twice its size and revelled in the bulging explosion of cheek tissue as the helpless woman attempted to eject the massive insertion. The machine contemptuously ignored her muffled gurgles of protest and continued to face-fuck the rigidly presented disembodied head. Having seen the original uncovered length of the dildo, Tyler knew for sure that full insertion was jamming the shaft deep into her throat.

He moved around the diabolical contraption and gazed at the rear of the girl, watching as the two thick lengths relentlessly vanished inside her on an alternating basis, and withdrew glistening. Each thrusting insertion seemed to cause the visible parts of the woman to swell to an even tauter extrusion as she was relentlessly stuffed with steadily expanding dildo. Yet again Tyler saw the similarity between Zyrinka and an inflated balloon. The effect of the thrusting shaft on her extruded ass was akin to poking a figure into a balloon. The only thing missing was the sound of distorting rubber. But Zyrinka's hummmphing expulsion of air as the thing crammed her full of hard plastic more than made up for that.

A close inspection of the anal dildo provided a magnificent spectacle of an arse ring stretched super tight around the plunging girth of a reciprocating shaft. Sheer unavoidable friction created by the monolithic phallus ensured that her beleaguered butt hole was constantly being resculpted from a deep valley to a miniature puckering volcano of tormented flesh as it was stretched first one way, and then the other. The peach-like pussy lips meanwhile, had become tautly stretched moon crescents of blubbering spongy delectability, suckling the thrusting dildo with helpless slurping slickness. Zyrinka's whole rear end was a mass tensing of ineffectual resistance, made all the more delightful by her complete inability to move or deny either dildo an entry. She was truly a fuck object. There was absolutely nothing she could do about it other than absorb the thrusting shafts. It was the perfect way to keep a strong woman like Zyrinka.

Tyler moved his face within inches so as to savour the view in detail. It was hard to imagine that this sculpted mass of womanhood actually belonged to the disembodied face on the other side of the wall. The superb rump of the compressed 'fuck object' writhed, tensed and bulged with desperate strength as it was relentlessly stuffed in both orifices, and he couldn't help but relate the view to that of a Christmas turkey being prepared.

Psssssssssssssssst! "Mrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

Tyler watched wide-eyed as the two dildos were simultaneously inflated to a degree that staggered the imagination. It seemed impossible, and yet the fuck object hadn't managed to move a muscle as her pumping inserts virtually doubled in size. She simply mewed louder and exhibited an even greater level of extruded expansion as her body struggled to absorb the massive influx of thrusting torment. The butt hole was now shiny and scarlet with tension. The friction must have been enormous if the levels of reversing distortion were taken as a guide. There was only the merest hint of moisture on the shaft, which was another indication that the fuck object's asshole was acting as a perfect wiper blade with hermetic sealing qualities. Previous personal experience in the matter helped Tyler to appreciate just how traumatic a butt reamer of that size would be.

Even her generously elastic pussy lips were stretched to splitting level, and her buttocks seemed about to burst with each reciprocal stuffing action. Ponderously, the machine pumped vigorously at her imprisoned form, impervious to the escalating torment.

His erection throbbed in his trousers. Krell could see that the young man was becoming distracted. "Why don't you take a rest. We've had a busy morning. Ride Poonani back to the cells and have a good fuck or two and meet me back here about three. Carrie should be ready by then. She's going to be a part of my main attraction. Zyrinka here will be kept busy by a continuous series of inflation steps for an hour or two, then she'll get a ten minute rest before the dildos inflate to the full monolith size. It's all fully automatic and she can't avoid it. By mid afternoon she'll be absorbing a dildo the size of a baby's head." The tightly squeezed 'fuck object' overheard and grew scarlet with effort as it fought to escape the inevitable. The machine responded by inflating the dildos yet again as the mechanical stuffing process continued. Krell grinned again and added more fuel to her torment.

"The rest period is always with full insertion and expansion to the current level. The machine is programmed to stop with her fully stuffed and keep her plugged up for an hour before it starts fucking her again. Then it expands the dildos to the maximum size for the remaining daily training period. Overnight she'll be serviced and then parked with the dildos fully inside." The fuck object's face assumed a deeper shade of purple as she intensified the efforts to escape. The image of being completely stuffed and sealed in all her openings overnight didn't seem to appeal to Zyrinka at all. In total, something like a cubic foot of metal and plastic inside her already compressed form was not a pleasant thought.

The men left the room and Zyrinka continued to be penetrated by the buzzing machine. Her cheeks bulged as the flexible feeding dildo plunged into her mouth forcing her jaw impossibly wide. Her buttocks quivered deliciously at each mechanical thrust from the two rear-mounted mechanical arms, the rigidly inflated phalluses stretching and filling her holes to bursting. Her body was held mercilessly tight inside the section of wall and she couldn't move an inch to escape the administrations of the terrible fucking machine despite all the straining effort she could muster to turn her head, or change the angle that her bottom projected from the aperture. Tyler stole a last lingering look at the bulging, writhing fuck object that was rhythmically pulsing and swelling in time with the massive invasions of dildo. The entire surface of her visible body was a rosy shade of red. In part due to her titanic efforts to escape, and in part due to the total humiliation and reversal of roles in life. Revenge was so sweet, thought Tyler.

As they walked down the passage the deliciously pleasing 'mmmphing' sounds of a tightly squeezed woman being thoroughly fucked echoed deliciously. It was a nice thought that as he enjoyed the guided tour, Zyrinka would continue to be ruthlessly maintained as a compacted fuck object, unable to resist the constant plunging, orifice stretching insertions, and doomed to provide a fantastically erotic recital of mmmphing protest. Faintly, Tyler heard the straining fuck object's training move to the next level.

Pssssssssssssssssst!

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! MMMMMMMMMMMMMrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! MMMMMMMMMMMMMrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

Pssssssssssssssssst!

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

The sounds of trauma escalated dramatically as the machine moved up another notch and the rising whine of high speed machinery added to the echoes following them along the passage. Although they were out of sight, Tyler could imagine that the dildos were by now a blur of reciprocating activity, and the 'fuck object' a mass of abused, juddering taut curves.

Krell smiled. "Sounds like she just reached the high speed six inch diameter level. A few minutes at that speed and she'll be starting to smoke with the friction. I've been meaning to change that lubricant, but then I decided they looked even more fun when they start to give off smoke."

Tyler resisted the urge to go back and watch Zyrinka being stuffed with six inch thick dildos. After all, the fuck object would be performing her act for a long time yet and he could return to savour her deliciously embarrassing plight at any time. Besides, the mental image of a squeezed, compacted Zyrinka being continually fucked was valid at any time he cared to bring it to mind, no matter where he was.

Alone with only the fiendish machine as company, the scarlet hued, bug eyed, tightly squeezed, tautly extruded 'fuck object' bulged, juddered and strained in a cloud of hot smoking lubricant fumes; her orifices stretching and distorting, as the diabolical spider device fucked her at high speed. Super-fuck mode was engaged and her lower orifices were a blur of enforced suckling activity. The plunging dildos were now synchronised and simultaneously pumping her with a three pronged attack, a procedure that served to dramatically enhance the strained expansion effect in her extruded portions that was so awesomely arousing to watch. Vaguely Zyrinka's mind struggled to grasp the fact that she was destined to remain in the wall for weeks, but the rising hurricane of virtually non-stop, horribly unwanted orgasmic response to the attentions of the spider mercifully swamped the realisation. Fortunately for any onlookers, the various sounds emanating from the pulsing 'fuck object' were an automatic response extracted by the severity of her training.

"HUUURRRMMMMMMMPPHHH! HUUURRRMMMMMMMPPHHH!”

Pssssssssssssssssssst!

"NNNNNNNNNNINNNNNNNNRRRRRRRRRR! HUUURRRMMMMMMMPPHHH! HUUURRRMMMMMMMPPHHH!”

*****

Image 14

 A few hours later, fed and sexually sated, Tyler returned to the corridor outside the training rooms at the arranged time. Krell waved to him from a hangar door and Tyler joined him. The room was large and circular. In the centre was a giant mechanised arm attached to a cylindrical vat of water. Inside the clear cylinder Carrie was strapped to a metal pole and clothed in a tight black rubber wet suit that seemed impossibly tight on her. Her legs had been pulled up as high as her head, exposing the open crotch and the enormous dildo hovering near her entrance, and fastened to the pole by thick bands. Her exposed breasts bulged between the backs of her raised knees and her arms were bound tight behind her back. Tubes ran from her nose to an air cylinder built into the restraining pole and her mouth was fitted with an underwater gagging device, which allowed her only to breathe out. Krell ushered Tyler into the control booth.

"This is the centrifuge. She will revolve around the central pole while the vat she is in rotates around it's axis. This will have quite an effect on her! Also I will be... Well, why explain! I'd better start this thing going and you can see!"

Inside the device Carrie could hardly breath. She frantically sucked air through the tubes in her nostrils. The backs of her legs ached mercilessly, tendons stretched to the limit. Her heart pounded in fear. She had been drugged and taken from her cell only to wake up here underwater with a start. For a few minutes she had almost suffocated in shock before she worked out the breathing arrangements. There was no way that she could free herself from the device. The time spent hanging in the cell under the evil ministrations of the Kraken had dulled her reflexes and taken the sharpness from her mind. She'd had no chance to reach the concealed gun in her thigh the entire time she had been in Krell's clutches.

The water was freezing and she was losing sensitivity in the exposed tips of her brutalised nipples, fingers and feet. What did this madman want with her? She'd spent what seemed like an eternity hanging blindly and being tortured. She begged for an end to the suffering or at the very least an explanation as to why she was being so tormented. It was terrible not to know why she was being subjected to such appalling treatment. It was perhaps also the calculatedly violent sexual nature of her torture that terrified Carrie so much. Krell was as inhuman as his alien helpers! Gagged, she hadn't been able to utter a word of recognisable speech since she was put in the trolley, and she was beginning to actually feel like an animal, a creature of burden without a mind or a will. She was so demoralised. Maybe he wants me to beg to die, she thought, surely death is the only escape from such a cruel tyrant. Carrie felt the machine lurch and the room started to move across her field of vision. Her stomach lurched with the sensation.

The arm had begun the rotation. Carrie saw a control booth flash by with two figures staring out at her. The massive dildo between her legs began to penetrate her. She tried to scream as it bulldozed slowly inside her, but only succeeded in releasing a stream of bubbles from her gag. A second dildo forced it's way into her anus and tears of pain and humiliation stung her eyes. The water was heating up around her and she began to perspire as the rotation accelerated. The exaggerated gravity caused by the centrifugal force caused her to unwittingly bear down heavier on the dildos as the arm's rotation slowly accelerated. They seemed to be going impossibly deep inside her. The combined girth of the two intruders stretching her wider than she would ever have thought possible. Carrie tried to scream again but needed every ounce of energy to continue breathing through the tiny air tubes.

With a lurch, the canister began to tip over backwards as it revolved. Her stomach clenched. The tank of water was rotating too, but with a different axis to the main revolving arm. The room spun crazily. She could see by turns, the walls flashing by, the ceiling, and then the floor and the urge to be sick rose in her throat. But it seemed that there was something in the air supply to combat her nausea. She greedily snorted the air, praying for an end to the dizzying forces. Her mind swam and she came close to blacking out, but again the treated air prevented her natural reactions from taking over. Krell wanted her to be clear headed as she suffered the conditioning.

Tyler was impressed with the machinery. "What's this training her for?" 

"Ahh, this is special, the centrepiece of my complex. Something the likes of which has never been imagined, let alone built! It shall remain a surprise, at least until the girls have been sufficiently conditioned!"

"I'm looking forward to it already!" Tyler smiled as he looked out of the window at the spinning capsule. The arm rotated at a steady speed now, the canister revolving as it turned. He could see Carrie inside, bubbles escaping in bursts from the mask. Her breasts floated freely in the liquid, the only part of her that wasn't rigidly and brutally strapped to the supporting arm. He marvelled as he saw glimpses of the massive penetrating shafts vanishing inside her as she flashed by the observation booth. Her body was sweating madly inside the suit as the water temperature was heated to almost unbearable levels. She was buffeted by the centrifugal force, violated by massive metal phalluses, disorientated by the revolving of the canister and crushed by the weight of the water around her as she spun. Tyler was supremely glad he wasn't, metaphorically speaking, in her shoes.

Constantly on the verge of blacking out under the extremity of her conditions, Carrie's brutalised mind fought to retain cognition. She closed her eyes to try and block out the terrible swirling motion of the room, but it was even worse without visual reference. Her breasts swayed uncontrollably in the water before her. The pendulous weight attachments were pulled by the centrifugal force, and trailed behind her, giving some clue to the direction the canister was spinning. She noticed the water temperature rising terribly and falling again on each turn, to what seemed like almost freezing. The awful constricting rubber suit that squeezed down on every inch of her limbs gave no protection against the extremes of temperature. It was as if all of her senses were under permanent assault at once. Tyler and Krell left the booth and Carrie glimpsed them waving for a second before the door slid shut behind them and the revolving arm took her past the observation window. Clinging desperately to her sanity the torture continued into the night and Carrie lost all track of gravity.

*****

The training continued over the next few weeks. On some nights the girls had their hoods replaced and were taken back to their cells and hung from the ceiling, physically stretched to the limit of endurance and mentally shattered, while the colonist technicians adjusted their respective torture machines. It was not uncommon for their tremulous, fitful sleep to be disrupted repeatedly by the unannounced arrival of a lash-wielding Kraken. Each morning as the creatures dropped into their cells and lowered the women onto their trolleys they would whimper feebly and tremble in fear. If they attempted to speak or plead for mercy they would be lashed violently until they were silent. After a few days of these lashings, they all learned to hold their tongues.

Doctor Krell's training was going well. Carrie was orientating herself to the dizzying centrifuge. Each day, the narcotic in her air was reduced, and she began to be able to control her gag reflex, and endure the increased G- forces breathing normal atmosphere. She by no means enjoyed it though; rather she had no choice but to adapt and had even given up hope of escape. At times actually wishing she was dead. Nevertheless, she was only being softened up for her true task.

Myra, hanging feebly and agonisingly from the rings in her breasts, was becoming quite supple. She could easily arch her spine and touch her heels with the back of her head. Then again she really didn't have any choice in the matter as each day the weight hanging beneath her was increased.

Trille could navigate the maze at a fair clip. Her arms and thighs became stronger as she fled from the pursuing Kraken. Her blinkers were removed after three days so she could orient herself and match the electric steering shocks with a visual reference. Tyler often spent whole afternoons guiding her around the maze. Occasionally he would move the walls around as she crawled, toying with her. He would send her galloping on her elbows down a long straight only to reveal the Kraken ahead of her behind a sliding wall. She would whimper in fear and attempt to evade it, but such was the effect of the Pavlovian-styled training, she was unable to turn effectively without the remote device controlling her alignment. Often she would simply collapse to one side, electrocuting her breasts on the metal floor. The violence and severity of the ravishment increased when she was caught. Different Kraken were used, some had been prevented from mating for long periods and the hormone scent attached to Trille was made increasing pungent. On a number of days, Tyler had to command the Kraken to leave her mutli-fucked, exhausted, unconscious, form. The woman would be ravished mercilessly for up to an hour. The problem was that the Kracken's awesome thrusting penis was in danger of doing her some lasting harm. Trille had retreated into herself entirely. No longer resisting any attentions. Her face was a blank. It was only in the maze that she became animated. Her spirit was broken and Krell had himself a fine and loyal pony transport!

Zyrinka too had lost her identity. The weeks inside the partition wall with her sex organs constantly exposed and being used had had the desired effect. During training, she had become accustomed to the immense pressure of the partition wall. But Krell was aware of this acclimatising effect. Every three days she had been removed and refitted into a version with smaller cavities. As a result, the compaction and compression process steadily converted her into a super-taut, bulging, extruded female of extraordinary allure for the discerning male. Every part of her available form was firm and tautly resilient, and her constant strained expression was something that converted even the most jaded male tackle into a rock hard shaft of vibrant lusting need that was quickly buried into her presented form on a regular basis. It seemed that on the third re-fit, Krell had added his latest innovation, a dual cheek-wad bladder gag. The sight of Zyrinka's bulging face as a result of the increasing compression seemed to inspire him. As a result her cheeks were duly packed with two rubber pump bladders, which when inflated, expanded her cheeks into spherical apple- like domes of tight bulging facial tissue. Krell had really enjoyed slowly pumping the thing up and testing her steadily inflating cheeks by prodding with a stiff finger. Zyrinka could do nothing as her face was stretched and inflated. He only stopped when she was sure her face was about to explode. The expansion of her cheeks was now only matched by the distension of her eyeballs as her face was literally pumped and maintained like a balloon. The sounds solicited by the constantly plunging dildos now seemed more in keeping with a tormented, desperately pleading face that seemed to be about to explode.

By the time she completed training, the reduction in wall sizes had robbed her of even the slightest muscle rippling effect as she strove to absorb the multitude of dicks thrusting into her. In effect, she had become the wall, albeit a human component.

One day she was lined up with a row of colonist women, the partitions being designed to slot together to form a long rack of exposed rears, as a treat to the hard working colonist males in the command centre. They gave her a firm seeing to. Gripping the projecting handles mounted above their heaving buttocks, meant that the men could get a good deal of leverage behind each thrust. Tyler couldn't see it from his side of the wall, but Zyrinka's mouth was still kept wide by an attachment similar to a normal gag but without a central piece.

Despite Krell's additional face pumper system, she was still available as a superb face-fuck object. Her mouth consequently was in great demand and was also used with gusto. The men seemed to prefer fucking a cheek- bloated face, and drew extra pleasure from Zyrinka's improved eyeball popping performance. No matter how hard they fucked her face, the disembodied head remained firmly offered and absorbed the thrusting male poles without any chance of avoiding the usage. The face would huff and puff through a widely opened mouth as a meaty shaft approached, and then with one swift face-stuffing thrust be instantly muted. Zyrinka's bloated cheeks proved to be an additional stimulant that manifested itself as a super-tight fuck tunnel, as the deep-throating males pounded their hips against the resilient inflated facial spheres.

Zyrinka, for her part, unable to do anything else, greedily swallowed the sperm, which would have been priceless back on earth. There was no escape, so she simply had to endure and learn to like her new role in life as best she could. She had finally mastered the art of swallowing with her mouth held wide open and cheeks expanded to bursting point. Some of it ran down her chin and the insides of her thighs, but the irony was lost on the woman as the original reason behind their rescue mission was long forgotten. It seemed as if she had been clamped and compressed like this for as long as she could remember, constantly in a state nearing orgasm, her skin flushed and radiant, quivering excitedly, betraying her femininity at every caress. The long training had produced an animal that lived purely on sex, her tender organs throbbed, somewhere between pleasure and pain. She came repeatedly during her ordeal, low moans escaping her, as her mind exploded in pleasure time and time again. Member after member slid into her well-lubricated holes, each one bucking deep inside her and adding to the squelching mixture as she was used as a receptacle of male sperm, a tightly squeezed sex object that was little more than a pleasurable garage for a multitude of male dicks.

 
5
PARADISE FOUND

It was with some pride that Krell announced that the women were ready to be installed in their respective positions inside the main crater. Tyler was finally going to see the inside of the volcano, Krell's masterpiece that had been out of bounds to him since he'd arrived. He had asked a number of the colonists to take him there secretly or at least give a hint as to what lay beyond the security doors, but they only laughed and dismissed his suggestions with a few words extolling the virtues of patience. Cursing them, he had to remain satisfied with his daily routine of female abuse until that fateful morning when Krell met him at the large bay doors. He was astride Trille, who looked resplendent in her full pony transport attire.

"What do you think, eh? I had her leg extensions fitted this morning. She'll remain blinkered for a while yet until she gets used to the controls, they are only slightly different from the maze devices. I don't want her panicked by her new height." He yanked the reigns a couple of times and she snorted with the bit between her teeth. Trille certainly looked fantastic in her shining latex garb. A multitude of straps ran down each thigh and arm connecting her to the shining steel feet. Large silver clasps stood out against the figure-hugging black costume. Her head was forced to look forward by her huge collar. Steel struts, mounted to her body harness, glittered beneath the electric strip lights of the cavern and rigidly held her in a proud posture.

Image 15

 "Where are the others?" Tyler asked.

"You'll see them soon enough." Krell dismounted, and Tyler noticed the metal suspension legs attached to Trille adjusted immediately to the shift of weight. He passed the reigns to a technician from the command centre and told him to take Trille to the stables, then removed from the folds of his robes a handset, which he passed to Tyler. "Here," he gestured to the massive steel doors that led to the interior of the crater, "I'll let you have the honour of opening the door!"

Tyler took the handset, and with a deep breath, depressed the switch. The huge doors slid open, slowly revealing the glittering vista inside the crater. He stared open-mouthed as he walked out onto a raised platform, which overlooked the landscape.

Surrounded on all sides by the towering jagged rock of the volcano sides, the area was like a sealed in valley, a sheltered paradise. The foliage was the rich green of the Earth and not the grey of the alien world around them. The lush greenery that had once covered the temperate climate of his home planet before the war had now been preserved in this magical new Eden. A massive landscaped garden of waterfalls and streams, trees and hedges, flowers and meadows, stretched into the distance. The smell of freshly cut grass rose from the volcano basin below to meet him. In the distance he could see a number of young colonist men kicking a soccer ball across a sports field. Two naked bound women, clothed totally in shining white latex were being used as goal posts. Off to his left a huge landing pad rose above a stretch of pine trees.

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Tyler could make out dwellings of various sizes clustered in pockets about the crater and a large central built up area thrived with activity. Far from intruding on the landscape, the buildings and glittering structures were custom built to complement their natural surroundings. Laughter rose on the breeze from a few young men as they headed across the lush field towards the shining spires of the town. There was a carnival atmosphere here and even from this distance he could see some pony transports being ridden through meandering tree lined streets. The sunlight was bright and warm, and the whole scene presented a utopia he had never dreamed of. The technician rode Trille down a slope to the valley floor and Tyler watched her being taken towards a large stable where a dozen or more pony transports were undergoing their daily routine. The contrast between this glittering, bright resort and the dingy, electrically lit, dripping caves was staggering and for a few minutes he could scarcely comprehend the scale of what he saw and it appeared to Krell that his guest had lost the power to speak.

"Are you going to stand here all day, or shall we meet your former colleagues?"

Tyler regained his composure and strode down the slope towards the activity. Krell followed him, pleased that his world had the desired effect on the young man. Tyler was astonished as he entered the resort. Everywhere around him, women were installed as various objects. There was an open-air bar with a few men from the command centre laughing and drinking, sitting in the sun. Women had been bent over backwards and attached to moulded rigid metal frames that supported the glass-topped tables. With a start he recognised one of the tables as Myra!

Her breasts poked through two openings of the tabletop, which was circular in shape, with the exception of a wedge cut out of one side where her mons was visible. Her legs were bent back and slightly spread by the frame. Her head was also bent back and so appeared upside down. Her mouth was held open by a similar gag to the one which had kept Zyrinka's mouth apart in the partitioned fuck rack. As he watched, one of the colonists, pulled up a stool and sat at the table, sliding his penis into her mouth as he chatted to his friends. Krell handed him a glass of beer and Tyler turned to see that the bar was composed of four inverted women in a line. They were mounted into floor sockets and strapped onto a steel rack upside down. Their bound legs were spread into a T shape, with a flat surface on top secured to them by thick double prongs penetrating their orifices. Behind the bar a latex clad woman was securely mounted onto a work surface and a barman was cleaning glasses using brushes protruding from her crotch. The barman raised a hand in greeting to Krell.

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Next to the bar a low wall seemed to be decorated with a row of protruding female asses. Tyler recognised the shag rack immediately. Above each arse between the projecting handles was mounted a tissue dispenser.

"Can you spot Zyrinka yet?" Krell smiled.

"I'm not sure, but they're all gorgeous!" Tyler said in awe, moving to the embedded row of delectable, tautly extruded buttocks projecting from the wall. He examined the first bottom and stroked his finger across the warm moist cleft. The cheeks shuddered and attempted to clench at his touch and he imagined the expression on the face of the woman on the other side of the wall. Maybe someone was getting oral relief at the same time. He could be fucking her from this side of the wall and would never know! He moved to the next one, but the skin was too dark to be Zyrinka. The next three asses were fairly similar and about the same size. They were all depilated so he had no clue as to their hair colour. He shrugged and took out his cock. There was only one way to decide. He entered each pussy in turn, and gave a good few thrusts to get familiar with each hole.

Still unsure, he examined each rectum using a similar stratagem. The middle one seemed to take his fancy more than the others did, and he decided not to continue his exploration any further. This was Zyrinka. He'd had some experience of her before, during the weeks of her training and he seemed to recognise the clenching of her buttocks as he rammed home his cock. The tightness of her confinement somewhat reduced the amount of clench she could achieve, but finally he was sure. Happy that he'd found her, he decided that he could do with a good fuck.

Just walking around this place was enough to give anyone the horn. It was even better than the history videos he used to watch of Old Amsterdam in history lessons at school!

He excused himself to doctor Krell, who went back to the bar for another beer, and gripped the handles mounted on the wall in front of him. He thrust into her with all the strength he could muster. The arse quivered and slapped with each impact, and the pressure-modified pussy gripped him tightly. He wiped his brow with the exertion, and set his feet further apart for better leverage. He was pleased to note that there were angled footpads about a foot from the floor on each side of her. He stepped up into them and swung on the wall, pumping up inside her ass like a demented man.

The offered mass of her rear end hardly managed to even flinch no matter how hard he fucked. Zyrinka was compacted and squeezed so tightly she couldn't even twitch. He marvelled at the effects of Krell's downsizing of her confinement. Her ass cheeks were so powerfully extruded it was like bouncing against twin beach-balls. The pressure was even forcing her butt hole outward sufficiently for him to feel the puckering ring nudging his pistoning hips at the root of his manhood. The whole effect was supercharging his exploding libido, and Tyler knew he couldn't hold back much longer. Before he came he slowed down, feeling every contour of the soft passage inside her slide over his hard glans. It added to the pleasure to glance down and watch as the taut bottom compressed with each of his powerful thrusts. Slowly and steadily he built up his pace again until he was plunging deep into her as hard as he could and thumping powerfully into the luxurious cushions of Zyrinka's extruded buttocks. Women were such well-designed creatures. Whoever had designed the female gender deserved a medal for adding two such erotic pads to absorb the impact of male hips.

Tyler's musing came abruptly to an end as the forces of an approaching orgasm gathered momentum. With a series of breathless gasps he exploded inside her and slowly allowed himself to shrink before sliding his organ out of her wet anus.
 
Zyrinka had felt her ass being pumped and closed her eyes in despair as she was literally being inflated by the constant absorption of a thick throbbing male dick. She had been re-installed in a partition device, trapped in the wall since first light this morning and had been fucked in all holes a dozen times at least. Every hour or so a cleaning maid, rigidly bound in a tight leather costume, would douche her with a small cleaning pump. The maid was only capable of the one task. Krell had ensured she could do nothing else. However one problem was that the severity of their bondage impaired efficiency. As a result Zyrinka's douching was best described as clumsy and traumatic. Often the cleaning maid would be slow to retract the nozzle from an orifice, and Zyrinka would feel herself being pumped up by an overdose of water. There was nothing she could do other than to endure the inflation and hope that the compression of the wall prevented her bursting.

The man currently fucking her rear end stiffened inside her, came, and finally withdrew. Was there no end to this nightmare? She thought as she saw a colonist technician approaching her, unzipping his work coveralls as he strolled forward, guiding his throbbing member into her open mouth. Seconds later her eyes were bugging out and her cheeks fattening as a massive cock filled her mouth to bursting point and then began to pump at her face.

On the other side of the wall, Tyler hopped down from the foot platform and tucked himself back into his pants. A strange pulsing movement was discernible on the jutting arse, and he could see the butt hole clenching rhythmically. He smiled as he realised that at that very moment, Zyrinka was being face-fucked from the other side. Some unseen male was bouncing his hips off her bloated cheeks as he thrust deep into her face. He waited till he was sure Zyrinka's face was no longer in use and then went around to the other side. It was an instant re-stiffening closely followed by a spontaneous ejaculation as the impact of her new facial format met his eyes. Zyrinka's face was bright scarlet and bloated to balloon-like proportions by the new gag. She looked most becoming with a gaping jacked open mouth and pair of cheeks that looked about to burst. Tyler felt annoyed that he had wasted a load when he could have shoved his rock hard dick into that superbly presented face. The only thing that could move, her eyes, followed him pleadingly as he grinned and studied her from all angles. She was truly a fuck object, and if he had any say in the matter, Zyrinka would stay buried and squeezed in that wall forever, and he told her so as he slipped a half hard dick into her mouth just for the hell of it. His balls took a little more effort to pack in, but finally Zyrinka's mouth was fully packed and his dick was hardening down into her throat. The fuck object's hue went to a deep shade of purple but Tyler ignored it and exploded yet again. It felt so good to fuck a bloated face that couldn't move a muscle to prevent it. Meanwhile Zyrinka's desperate swallowing was massaging his dick with incredible mind-sapping sensation. He looked down and marvelled at the image of that expanded face, locked firmly into place, hummphing and puffing on his manhood. Zyrinka's head was so still and rigidly held it was easy to imagine that he was fucking a gargoyle.

Drained and breathless, Tyler finally rejoined Krell at the bar and marvelled at the inverted latex clad women that he was propping himself against.

Krell grinned. "You guessed right. It was Zyrinka. I must say you are becoming something of a connoisseur! How did you like her new super tight compression?" Tyler simply rolled his eyes and groaned by way of answer. Krell grinned widely and nodded his understanding. Sometimes mere words were not enough for an experience like that.

"This place is quite astounding," Tyler said as he stood sipping his beer, feeling the warm sun on his face and breathing in the purified air. He looked across the street at the immaculate lawns and picturesque stream, complete with an arched bridge. "How did you get the sky to be blue? Outside the crater the sky is silver."
 
"There are sets of terra-forming equipment in emplacements around the rim of the crater, they create a ray which blocks out the harmful rays of the sun, and they also form a shield across the entire crater some six hundred feet above our heads which absorbs infra red rays. It gives the illusion of a blue sky quite well doesn't it!"

Tyler marvelled at the visionary genius before him. He drank his beer and glanced up the street, curious as to the sounds of excitement. Above him he heard a throaty rumble and he looked up startled just in time to see a bulky D-Class freight craft descending onto the nearby landing pad.

"What's going on? Has Earth found out about this place?"

"Relax." Krell smiled. "Just another shipment from Antarctica. I have a secret base on Earth run by escaped rich men who went into hiding after the war to escape the women slavers. There's even a few female fifth columnists who believe that the matriarchal society is wrong to enslave men, working for me on Earth too."

Krell explained how his organisation was a vast endeavour on a planetary scale. He remained anonymous in space, known on Earth by only a few select operatives. His security was paramount to the movement. If any faction of his free men were discovered on Earth, Krell could never be identified as their leader, as he only gave his orders through code. A massive base in Antarctica, hidden beneath the frozen continent, served as his centre of operations and possessed a massive radar jamming and tracking system to conceal the arrival and departure of shuttles to planet X. The shipment arriving now was a monthly occurrence. They brought supplies, building materials, kidnapped women and their assets, and men who wanted to escape their slavery on Earth, and work for Krell towards a better future.

Tyler was again amazed at the genius of Doctor Krell. He numbly shook his head, having had no idea that pockets of men still resisted the female scourge back on Earth. A red squirrel ran across the path and, chirping, scuttled up a nearby tree. Truly, reflected Tyler, this place was a paradise.

"Out here in space, I have preserved some of the natural wonders and wild life that have been fucked up on our planet." He pointed to a cluster of rabbits that hopped across a nearby path before vanishing beneath an elegant topiary. "By working anonymously through spies and female sympathisers I have distributed footage of this landscape complete with cute little bunnies and squirrels, with a contact number asking for donations. I carefully avoid showing any of the enslaved women of course. I get funds that way from rich and highly influential females on Earth. The movement is called the Paradise Sect." Krell smiled. "Women really are suckers for little furry animals and hate to imagine their extinction! Through this little deception, I hope to catch a number of the most powerful women on the planet and eventually, regain control of Earth for Man- kind. The majority of Earth females who work for me do so ignorant of my true purpose of course, and they also have no idea that this venture is some thousands of light years from their planet."

Krell explained how the Antarctic base was constructing domination chambers to convert as many of the female Central Command as he could to his cause through ingenious torture. With their enforced compliance he could invade Earth from within the higher echelons of government without the need for a conflict using the fearsome shock troopers against each other.

"But enough of my endeavours, I knew you'd be impressed. I have yet to give you your woman. Ex-Captain Carrie Simmons, once of the elite, now a delicious sex toy! And, my friend, she is yours." He paused. "When she's not working at least!"

Tyler and Krell drained their beers and headed towards the centre of the complex. On the way they passed chalets with relaxing billionaires who had escaped the enslavement on Earth to retire here. They sat on porches enjoying the view with female furniture contorted around them, often with orifices bared for passers-by to avail themselves of. The centre of the village consisted of something of a funfair. A sexual cornucopia of female bondage and male dominance unfolded before Tyler's widening eyes. Men walked around accompanied by leather and rubber clad women on leashes. Pony girls traipsed past, ridden by colonists. Cleaning maids, tightly bound, roamed around stiffly cleaning litter from the streets. There were small buildings, each one catering to a specific fetish taste leading off from the main thoroughfare. Tyler's senses reeled.

At the centre of this festival rose a glittering machine, rising fifty feet above their heads. Tyler gaped at it. From a huge rotating central spire, shining metal arms at varying heights brandished the most beautiful women Tyler had ever seen. They were in harnesses, rigidly affixed to the machine with either of their legs fastened onto the steel above their heads, or their bodies turned inwards with their rears facing outwards. Tyler saw, as the arms revolved, that a number of women were actually being fucked by guys riding the machine, supported by safety belts. Loud whoops emitted from the men as they passed by overhead.

"Incredible isn't it?" Krell smiled. "The ultimate thrill in the Universe, I present the Carousel."

Tyler stared, almost hypnotised by the massive spokes as they revolved high above his head.

Krell continued. "As a child I always wanted my own private theme park. So I decided to build myself one. But look, there is still one arm empty." Krell gestured as the machine spun, and Tyler could see that one of the arms was unoccupied as it passed overhead. The glittering machine hummed and accelerated. All that was missing from the scene was cotton candy and a coconut shy! Krell snapped his fingers and a maid approached from a nearby doorway trailing a trolley behind her from chains attached to loops built into a severe leather corset. Tyler was surprised to see that the woman had relative freedom of movement. She was in tight leather strapping, and while her hands were cuffed and her legs were strapped together at regular intervals, she could nevertheless walk around the complex in short steps on teetering six-inch stilettos.

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"Well done, Mircalla." Krell fished a food tablet from a pocket inside his robes and placed it on her tongue. Mircalla the maid bowed. Krell unhooked the trolley from her corset and she stiffly retreated back towards the doorway. "That was my wife. Now she's matron of all the women here, and head of the birthing room. She has quite a lot of responsibility but is totally loyal to me." Krell turned to the trolley and the latex sheathed form strapped to it. He removed the hood and Carrie's long dark hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her cheeks, bulging over a viciously tight gag, were flushed and her eyes red rimmed from crying. "Well, Captain. You've come a long way and I've been particularly impressed with your submission. For this you have earned yourself a place among the finest women of this planet." Her large eyes flashed between Krell and Tyler. "You realise that you are totally mine now?" She tried to nod eagerly but was severely restricted in her movement by a thick leather collar. "Before you take your place in my empire I will remove your gag and let you thank me for my mercy. And you can also say 'hello' to your new master."

Krell unfastened her gag and Carrie took a deep breath. There were a few moments of silence in which she expected to be whipped for speaking. It had been nearly a month since she last uttered an intelligible word. She cleared her throat. Both men leaned forward quite eager to find her opinion amusing.

"Why... do... all... this to us?" She croaked hoarsely and somewhat hesitantly as her vocal chords struggled to cope with the renewed freedom of speech.

"Because I can." Krell smiled.

She started to cry softly like a child.

"Aahh, rainy face. There's no need for tears. I've given you a new life. Free from the pressures of success and drive. Everything is provided for you here. If you obey and serve us well, you can become a cleaning Maid, like those you have seen today, tending other girls and disciplining them. Perform well and we might allow you to become breeding stock. I'm sure a healthy fertile woman of your calibre has always dreamed of having a baby. Well, you can here. A few years faithful service and anything is possible. All is not lost. One day you will thank me. I've taken the stress of individuality away from you. Women were never cut out to be men. They're simply not the ruling types. Look what a hash of things that woman Prime Minister made in England last millennium! Boy that was a fuck up. Took them sixty years to fix it! All the great thinkers, writers and scientists were men. Shakespeare, - Gord, - Einstein. Not pseudo men like you Earth bitches are trying to be! Here you are real women."

"But... b..but, here," she said feebly, "we're just toys for sex." As she spoke she began to cry again.

"Exactly what I just said! Real women." Krell laughed. "You will learn to love your new position in life here. Is it not beautiful?" He waved a hand in a theatrical gesture about him. "Besides, your beauty only complements the area. Think back to when you used to fuck Tyler in your sterile metal box of a home back on Earth, you climbed off when you were satisfied. Am I right? You never pushed back the envelope of sexual experience, beyond the point where the sweetest of pleasures can become the sweetest of pains. Your flimsy orgasms of the past are nothing compared to the levels of climax you will achieve and sustain here. Compared to the release you will crave after a few hours nearing orgasm on the carousel, you are practically a virgin! It will alter your entire being. You'll achieve levels of pleasure undreamed of."

Her big blue eyes seemed to brim with tears, and she slowly nodded her head.

"Looks like she's ready to be put into place." He replaced her hood and laced it tightly over head.

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They wheeled her to the carousel and Krell pushed a button. The passengerless arm dipped lower than the others, sliding down the central column and onto a separate layer to prevent it interfering with the rest of the spokes, as it slowed it's rotation. The other massive arms continued to revolve, with their copulating riders. They walked up the steps to the vacant limb and Carrie was hefted from the trolley and placed into position.

A narrow, moulded solid foam couch mounted at the very tip matched the exquisite contours of Carrie's back exactly. Krell laid her gently, almost tenderly onto the arm of the machine, clearly proud of the beautiful woman in his possession. A thick metal band was clamped into place over the leather collar around her neck, and a wide restraining strap around her waist was tightened to secure her into position. Krell untied her arms from her sides and pulled them around to the rear of the metal stanchion into a pair of specially mounted cuffs. He tightened the buckles as hard as he could, panting with the exertion. Tyler could hear her weeping softly as she felt herself being forcefully strapped down. As Krell busied himself tying her arms, he drank in the sight of his former master in her new outfit.

The rubber suit had holes exposing her pierced breasts and sex organs. Along her thighs, circular slits allowed her skin to breathe and revealed the delicious curve of her hips. The flesh bulged under the tightness of the suit, which looked almost too small for her, such was the surface tension of the shiny material as he traced a finger across her exposed navel. The black latex gleamed under the warmth of the sun. Krell straightened up, satisfied that her arms were suitably strapped to the metal arm by a number of thick leather bands. Krell summoned Tyler and the pair each grabbed a leg and raised it high above her head. There was a muted gasp from the prone female, but both men ignored her. They fastened her slender ankles into thick padded restraints, and tightened the four leather buckles to keep them locked in place. Support straps were also tightened around her thighs and calves.
 
They stood back to admire her for a moment. Her vagina and anus were now easily accessible and drew interested glances from passers by. Krell removed her hood and she strained to move her head to see what she was strapped to. A thick rubber gag was pulled tight across her face, which forced her mouth open and covered her teeth with a protective shield to prevent accidental scrapage during fellatio. Mounted on either side of the glittering metal arm, were safety straps and support rungs for the rider similar to the safety harness of a hover sled, affording the rider total security and unfettered access to the supine female. As a finishing touch, Krell drew a strap over her forehead preventing her from lifting her head. She was completely and utterly unable to move.

"Try her out." Krell smiled. "I feel like another drink, and maybe I'll give Myra something to worry about!"

Tyler waved as Krell headed back towards the bar. He gazed at Carrie as she hung in place on the machine. Above her head was a small control panel with which to manoeuvre the limb. He stepped up to the foot-plate, his heart pounding with excitement as he slid the safety harness over his shoulders and removed his engorged member from his trousers. Settling onto the passenger frame, he reached over her to flick the switch that controlled the device, Carrie's fear-widened eyes following his movements as she attempted to assess her position. With a jolt, the arm started to move, and startled, Carrie gasped in fright. Slowly the arm began to pick up speed and the breeze ruffled their hair as the elevation of the limb increased.

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In the pit of Tyler's stomach he felt the pull of the centrifuge. He began to grin insanely as an electric thrill gripped him. He slid inside Carrie's proffered vagina and closed his eyes with pleasure feeling the sunlight on his face and the excitement of travelling at speed. The arm reached full acceleration after a few minutes and he opened his eyes to find himself thirty feet above the ground. Carrie was trembling with fear. His hands explored her sleek body, caressing and squeezing her breasts, sliding the length of her legs, savouring the slick feel of the rubber and the warm softness of her skin. The revolving arm slotted back into it's place at the top of the central column reaching maximum elevation. Tyler could see clear across the entire crater, and the beauty of the landscape left him awestruck. Carrie squirmed in terror against the restraints, but her movements were limited to the barest flexing of muscle. Tyler began to rhythmically pump into her, going hard and deep, feeling and smelling her juices. The sensation of sex and the thrill of the ride dizzied his senses.

Glancing down he saw that his feet were trailing out into space as the treetops hurtled by and he almost felt as if he was flying. Tyler closed his eyes and threw back his head, feeling the centrifugal pull spin them both. At any moment he expected to fall off the machine and tumble through thin air so innocuous was his own safety harness and the thrill of danger sent a shiver of excitement through him, but he knew that Krell's engineering was flawless and he was perfectly safe. He glanced to one side and saw some of the other riders in various states of rapture some distance away on the other spokes of the Carousel. The machinery at the central hub gleamed as it spun, a shining engine perfectly built and almost silent as it whirled it's passengers around.

Carrie felt a wave of vertigo and she found herself breathing steadily through her nose automatically to calm herself without even thinking. With horror she realised that she had been trained to behave in such a way in Krell's water tank. He had moulded her as easily as a child would model clay into satisfying shapes of his own imagination. She closed her eyes defeated, as her body betrayed her. She no longer had control of her own actions; her instincts were pre-ordained. Tyler drove himself into her and filled her slick opening, his thick member stretching her labia with each thrust. She was defenceless against any man who wanted to use her. She was literally a mere cog in a machine. She was, put simply, defeated. As Tyler fucked her faster, Carrie felt the stirrings of an orgasm begin to tingle inside her and she resignedly allowed it to overwhelm her, abandoning her will to her new Master.

*****

Doctor Krell ambled through the streets proud beyond measure that his vision had become a reality. Although there were many bars, amusements and diversions inside the crater, he returned to the open-air bar he'd visited earlier. He was pleased to see that Myra's table was empty. Taking a beer over, he pulled up a stool and sat at the glass-topped table. He could see Myra's face looking up at him and he waved down at her.

"Not so fierce now are you, eh?" He chided. "Do you remember when we first met all those weeks ago? Seems far longer than a few months doesn't it. I bet you don't even know what month it is. Or even care by now."

Her face remained expressionless. Admittedly there was little room for movement in a face forcibly clamped into position with the mouth securely fixed wide open, but there wasn't even an eyebrow raised in protest or recognition. There wasn't even an intake of breath either as Krell exposed his massive, shining metal penis. "I once told you that I'd impale you on this and take it up to level five."

Krell moved to the opposite end of the table where Myra's vagina was glistening and exposed. The shape of the table allowed easy access to her mons. "Here's where I make good on my promise."

Krell plunged his member slowly into the girl and her pierced clitoris made a clinking sound as it came into contact with the silver phallus. So huge was the member, that Doctor Krell eased it in with a number of movements, each thrust going slightly further inside her, before withdrawing and plunging it in again. The pussy bulged and stretched under his intrusions, the lips stretching impossibly wide to accommodate the monstrous organ. Her buttocks were clenching and her thighs were tightening, uncontrollable muscular flinches, as he forced the steel phallus into her. She made quiet keening sounds of distress from beneath the table, but Krell was only just beginning to position himself, he hadn't even started to fuck her yet. Once her vulva had enveloped the final inch of shining steel, Krell paused to enjoy a mouthful of cold beer. Myra trembled in pain as every heartbeat sent blood to her massively stretched vagina.

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She had never felt anything like this before in her life, and had never wanted to again! "Mmmmphh. Gggghhh," she cried inarticulately.

Krell nodded an acknowledgement to a few waving pony riders as they passed. Apparently, they were recent arrivals from the Antarctic base, eager to sate their lustful appetites before getting down to unloading the cargo and starting work. Krell encouraged the men to use the women first and get their work done later, finding them more productive when they were happy, as opposed to risk them being distracted with nothing on their minds but pussy when operating heavy machinery.

He thrust into Myra again, satisfied that she was in some considerable discomfort. She whimpered from beneath the glass top of the table. Krell depressed a stud at the base of his penis. Immediately Myra yelped as the metal member throbbed with electrical energy and he began to develop a rhythm. Her breasts, poking through the table, swayed backwards and forwards in sympathy with his strokes like quaking mounds of jelly. Krell increased the force of his penetrating and went to level two. Inside Myra's stretched vagina, nodules on the phallus projected out and began to undulate as the electrical energy came in throbbing bursts. The flexible inner walls of her pussy were being manipulated and stretched from the inside as Krell continued his measured lunges. Myra sucked in air and bit as hard as she could on the mouth-stretching gag. The torment was horrendous, and with each shallow breath, she released an agonised squeal of pain. She closed her eyes trying to blot out the terrible thrusting sensations but her efforts were futile. Krell was enjoying himself immensely, and each noise out of Myra sent a thrill through him. With a sneer he turned it up to level three.
 
Myra shook visibly as the metal penis began to vibrate with some force inside her. Krell's beer glass began to rattle on the tabletop. Despite her gagged condition, Myra was starting to lose control of her reactions and keening wails escaped her mouth as each burst of electricity jolted her in rhythm with each of his thrusts. The punishment was unbearable. Her entire insides felt alive with fire and muscles were spasming all over her body. Krell admired her resilience. Most women couldn't take this kind of sex for very long at all without screaming their heads off. He shrugged and carried on, he had, after all, promised her a visit to level five on the pneumatic fanny hammer.

The sudden switch to level four without any warning made her finally scream out loud. It was as if an invisible barrier of her resolve had broken and she cried out for all she was worth. Her tormented bellowing drew a small group of curious onlookers. Someone whispered in the crowd, "sounds like he's going to go all the way to level five," before the voice was drowned out again by the girl's screaming. Inside her, the penis was now telescopically expanding as the nodules moved and the electric shocks increased. Her entire body was shaking as his thrusting increased. Myra felt as if her lower half was being torn apart and that she would split like timber along the entire length of her body at any second. Every muscle in her pelvis was clenched evilly and she screamed for Krell to stop.

Krell's beer glass was skittering across the table and her breasts were shaking crazily as the robotic penis put her through its paces. The pussy was being stretched and distorted from the inside. Krell didn't even have to thrust at this point to illicit a screaming response, but he continued, if anything, even harder than before. Myra was losing her grip on reality as wave after wave of pulses throbbed into her flesh. The energy was absorbed and spread throughout her system like wildfire. Her skin was hot to the touch and her eyes were rolling back inside their sockets. Her clitoris ring occasionally crackled with sparks as it brushed against Krell's penis.

At the back of her mind, Myra could feel something happening, something growing inside her. She was barely aware of the massive penetration that almost filled the diameter of her pelvic bone, but sensed a monstrous trembling emanating from her clitoris and extending throughout her entire being. Her body released floods of endorphins and a stream of adrenaline. The vibration hit like an earthquake; the epicentre seemed to be deep in her loins. Krell had switched to level five at the exact moment the mind- blowing orgasm hit her, extending its duration beyond the limits of human endurance. The screams from the girl were halted abruptly as she came, the breath trapped at the back of her throat. The sound was replaced by a high pitched whine from the vibrating beer glass on the table. The beer itself was bubbling and frothing. Krell acknowledged a smattering of applause and the crowd dispersed. Myra shook frenziedly, almost tipping over the entire table. Krell's eyebrow rose in amazement as the woman bucked a few more times before finally going slack. She had lasted longer than any of the others that he'd taken to level five so far. He was undeniably impressed. He closed his eyes and enjoyed an orgasm of his own, electronically synthesised since he lost his real penis in a freak accident, but as potent as any experienced before. After a few more thrusts, he leisurely lowered the setting and turned the penis mechanisms off before withdrawing with a squelching slurp noise. The woman was completely techno-fucked. It would be some hours before she returned to her senses. Krell took a mouthful of beer. Revolted he spat it out again. It was hot! The energy given off by his strength must have acted like a microwave transmitter, vibrating the very atoms of the drink and causing the resultant friction to heat the beer from within. Cursing, he returned to the bar leaving the unconscious Myra to the curiously amused prodding of some young virile colonist men.

*****

Tyler spent the rest of the afternoon revolving on the Carousel. He came repeatedly. Carrie did too. He liberally used her mouth, anus and vagina with as much force as he had the energy for. He was feeling invigorated. Never in his life had he ever used a woman so fully, and so often, and at the back of his mind was the satisfying knowledge that he actually owned her. It took a while for this point to sink in. He had only just been accustomed to his own freedom since landing on this planet a few short months back, never mind adjusting to the fact that he could use his former master in any way he desired. She seemed to adapt to the role equally well. She greedily sucked him when he came in her mouth and she gripped and clenched his member firmly with her pelvic muscles when he entered her. There was no longer a pleading in her beautiful blue eyes, just a smouldering lust. All her hidden desires had bubbled to the surface and she was now a fully qualified fuck machine.

Tyler had, with some reluctance, lowered the arm later that evening a good while after all the other men had climbed off and left the Carousel. He bade goodnight to his slave and returned to his quarters. Krell had told him to keep the handset that controlled the bay doors as he was now a valued member of staff. His vacation here was ended and Krell wanted to use him productively from now on. The past few weeks were a honeymoon period in which Krell had examined his character and assessed his usefulness. As Tyler had been a regular visitor to the Central Command centre on Earth; albeit as a lowly slave standing some feet behind his master, he would come in handy when the time came for invasion. He was well known as a subservient and knew his way around the building. 

The latest shuttle contained thirty-six new females to break arrived, and over the next few weeks Tyler was given free reign to condition them. A few young ones were strong limbed and would become excellent pony transports. He drove them around the maze with ambition and vigour, determined to show Krell that he was a talented slave master. The others were to be distributed among the lesser tasks around the complex and trained accordingly after their initial week of enforced and highly traumatic solitude designed to shock them into submission. Many women crumbled sooner than a week, the transition from luxurious apartments to a dungeon on a distant planet being whipped by nightmare alien humanoids was quite a wrench! Krell was particularly pleased with Tyler's success in training. It wasn't often he could redress the balance of injustice by allowing a slave to swap positions with their master, but he took pleasure when he could. Apart from anything else, Tyler was quite a sadist, and although he did seem to have a worrisome soft spot for Carrie, he went about training the women with a fierce drive, reminding Krell somewhat of a younger version of himself.

Doctor Krell realised that he had an individual with the potential of running the Antarctic base for him. Krell didn't like to leave his volcano stronghold too often and kept supervisory trips back to Earth at a minimum. The base was however, taking shape and by his reckoning, it would only be a matter of a few weeks before he could start to attempt his selective abduction campaign. He wanted Tyler to be his representative on Earth and so carefully schooled him in the strategies of politick. Tyler had to admit that he was no Machiavelli. Re-jigging computer chess programs seemed about the limit of his ability, but Krell saw potential in the way he manipulated the slaves under his control in the training maze with such devious and fiendish panache.

"Like many things," Krell said on one of their frequent evenings together, as they sat overlooking the seething alien jungle from the doctor's quarters, "it's a question of playing your cards close to your chest. You can give enough away to establish bait and then reap the rewards with a killing masterstroke of massive proportions when the opponent thinks that they know your measure."

Taking this to heart one day, Tyler inadvertently found one of his wards fucked almost to death in the maze after he allowed four Kraken in there with the girl. He thought that she was getting too used to being pursued by just one and decided to up the stakes. But it proved a minor hiccup in his growing friendship with Krell. "Made the same mistake myself y'know. Learn from it but don't become despondent about the girl. She'll recover."

Image 22

In truth, Krell hadn't even considered allowing multiple Kraken in the maze, and was actually quite impressed with Tyler's initiative. The fact that the slave almost expired under the conditions, while regrettable and nearly resulted in a tragic waste of premium pussy, was inconsequential compared to the millions of women he would know carnally once the planet Earth belonged to him. If anything, it confirmed Krell's opinion of Tyler as a man with ambition and drive. He might even give him Europe when the time came. Or maybe even an entire colony world on the outer rim. Once the Earth was his, he could proceed to conquer the entire Empire. Krell often enjoyed lethargic lapses wherein he sat at an enormous boardroom table and contemplated the future of the galaxy under his reign.

Tyler regularly took Carrie from the Carousel at night and hung her in his quarters. He very rarely used any other women. At least not with as much passion as he reserved for the beautiful Ex-Captain. Admittedly there were around thirty or so others in which he refined his technique, but none in which he put so much sperm. Tyler had noticed too, that since he had been on Planet X-260-9104 that his ejaculate had thickened dramatically and become somewhat copious when discharged, and his capacity for erection seemed limitless. Krell had laughingly explained that it was a side effect from the plant hormone phenylexteroplysis, which existed in minute quantities in the atmosphere of the planet. This, coupled with the lack of pollution, not only restored fertility and eradicated impotence, but actually improved the sex drive up to 350% of normal Earth men. This had really rather pleased Tyler and armed with this new information, he had immediately fucked eleven women in a row before physical exhaustion forced him to discontinue his rather unscientific investigation into this new found talent.

Transmissions from Earth's Central Command started to increase worryingly. Krell had even synthesized likenesses of Carrie and Latara for the videolink transmissions back, instead of mere voice signals for added authenticity. For all intents and purposes, the transmissions were answered by the women and not Krell. But Central Command still wanted progress reports and reasons for the delay in flying back to Earth. Krell effectively managed to stall them for another month or so, but their insistence led Krell to step up their preparations for the infiltration of Earth Central Command. The shuttle on the crater pad was loaded with some modified equipment and a complement of shock-troops. It was prepped for take off and would transport Tyler back to Earth in a few days. Krell tried to cheer him by giving him the remaining time off work, but Tyler refused. He was genuinely disappointed at having to leave this paradise so soon.

"Don't worry," Krell consoled him, "you can return in as little as a year if all goes as planned. Right now I need you on Earth."

*****

That night Tyler took Carrie to his room. She was strapped into place by the attendant Kraken while Tyler slumped heavily onto his bunk and poured himself a glass of strong liquor. The Kraken scuttled away through the hole in the ceiling and they were alone. The suspension harness creaked softly as Carrie swayed gently over the bed. Her legs were tucked under her and tied securely. Her arms were secured, crossed beneath her with heavy metal clasps and straps. She was in her usual latex suit; Tyler's favorite. It made her look like a ball of shiny black rubber sex. Her limbs all wrapped tight around her in a secure bundle of femininity. He reached up with his left arm and began to stroke the exposed soft flesh surrounding her pussy, occasionally, feigning accident, letting his finger slip inside her. From within the gag she purred softly with pleasure. "I'm leaving here soon." Her purring stopped and she made an inquisitive meeping noise. "I've got to go to Earth." He lowered her harness slightly and unbuckled his trousers to expose his penis. "There's a shuttle fuelled and waiting for me in the crater. In a couple of days I'll be gone. Maybe for as long as a year." He sighed and poured himself another liquor, the first few having gone down so easily.

"Krell says that your old bosses are getting impatient for the spunk you were supposed to retrieve." He took a long slug from the glass. "Jeez, if they were here I'd give them enough cum to drown in." He pushed his penis into her anus and began to satisfy himself.

"Mmmph. Mmm."

"Yeah, I know."

"Mmmph Mmm. Mmm."

"They were a real bunch of cunts. Did you know that Flight Marshall Cassandra once forced me to lick her out while you were in a meeting and I was chained outside."

"Mmmph?"

"Really! She hadn't washed either. It was fucking rancid. Like sucking a load of sour cheese water out of a dirty dish rag."

"Mmmph mmm. Mmmph mm mmph"

"How old?" He gasped in astonishment. "Sixty two?" 

"Mmm."

"That's disgusting!" He accelerated his movements. "Hang on a minute. I'm gonna cum in here."

He pumped her harder; his fingers gripping her hips so hard he left imprints even after he changed his position. He came noisily and slumped miserably back onto his bunk. Carrie still swayed back and forth, a lasting testament to his exertions. "Sixty two! What a bitch!" Tyler muttered as he poured himself another drink. "You know. You have the best ass on the entire complex. I've fucked nearly two thousand asses, and yours is the most shapely, the warmest and the most responsive. I love your ass."

"Mmmph mm."

"What?"

"M, mmph, mm."

Tyler grabbed an ankle and spun her around to face him.
 
"Mmmph mm."

He thought about this for a minute, his thoughts and response time slightly dulled by alcohol. Not sure he could have heard right, he hesitantly reached up and unfastened Carrie's gag. "Did you say what I thought I heard you say?"

She flexed her mouth a few times, unused to the sensation of being able to move her jaw.

"I will let you speak. I mean you have my permission for a sentence or So."

She blinked a few times and hot salty tears rolled down her cheeks. "I... I said... I love you. Master. I love you." Tyler felt strange. A feeling fluttered in his stomach, something he had never experienced before.

"I don't care if you whip the hell out of me for speaking out loud. I am yours utterly. Let me suck you off right here. Rape me. Cum all over me. I want it all. Tie me to your bed forever. I've never been so fulfilled in all my life, as the time I'm here with you." She uttered breathlessly.

Tyler was slightly taken aback. Love was a potent word. There hadn't been a suitable phrase for expressing such an emotion since the abolition of marriage to a man, and no new word was ever coined to replace it. To Tyler it was almost a mythic saying, an extinct word such as "worship" or "religion". A statement to affirm a bond between two people. A willful dependency on another human being. Applied to the terms of the day, it was the greatest voluntary submission anyone could ever admit to. Tyler was thrilled.

"Love?" He mulled for a minute. "That's pretty serious. I mean, I own you anyway! You are my property!"

"I know, and I never want to be away from you. I love you. Look at me. Remember how I was? So full of delusional pride and feckless superiority. Could I really be the same person now that I have seen the truth?"

"I must admit," Tyler hiccuped into his liquor, "you seem to have come off your perch somewhat and taken your head out of your ass!"

"Strap me to your bed and use me again. My pussy wants to bleed for you."

Tyler felt his erection stir again. Downing the drink in one gulp, he knelt upon his bunk and unclasped her from the overhead harness. She bounced onto his bed with a gasp, a tightly cocooned latex bundle of womanhood. Tyler frenziedly thrust his member into her mouth. Her full red lips closed around the head of his penis and sucked the full length inside her. Tyler gasped with pleasure. He began to untie the clasps at the back of her harness, freeing her elbows. He rolled her over onto her back and a trail of saliva linked his penis to her lips for a moment before breaking. He plunged his penis into her vagina to keep it warm and proceeded to undo the buckles connecting her wrists to her knees. He could barely concentrate as she murmured her love to him between his thrusts, such was his excitement. The second that her arms were both free though, she slapped her right thigh.

Tyler looked on, confused.

There was an electronic whirring noise and the flesh of her thigh burst apart. Tyler withdrew and fell back from the bunk in horror. Carrie rolled to one side, her hand going to the gaping thigh. A metal projection thrust through the latex. She snatched at the emanation and removed a snub nosed blaster pistol. Tyler lay on the floor where he had fallen off the bed, a look of horror described across his face. The thigh returned to normal, the flesh closing over the secret cavity. She brandished the gun in his face as she struggled to her feet. Wobbling slightly, the tall beauty stepped off the bed. It had been some time since she had propelled herself and her legs were slightly weakened.
 
"Six years ago." She answered Tyler's unasked query. "Just after the hijack of the Apollo." She waved the pistol at him. "I knew it would come in handy sometime."

Tyler's mind reeled. The Apollo was a ship under Carrie's command a few years before she had purchased him at the auction. He'd heard about it at the time. It made the headlines across the planet. A number of male supremacists had taken control of the ship under her command and had killed half the crew. They wanted to establish an all-male free state where slavery was illegal. They were crazed fanatics. Big enough to kill with their bare hands. Once they had murdered their armed guards, they trained their own weapons against the rest of the passengers. Carrie had ingeniously sealed the cockpit after engaging the auto-pilot and crawled along the length of the ship in the air ducts. The hijackers, unable to force their way into the pressurized cabin, began killing hostages in order to convince her to change direction. As they attempted to negotiate with her through the cockpit door, she had dropped down behind them and broken the neck of a hijacker as he stood guard over the passengers.
After a brief laser fight, her accuracy being formidable in such a volatile situation, she had annihilated the freedom fighters, but taken a laser-burn to the leg. Despite her injury she was able to regain control of the ship and land it safely in Nu-Tokyo. Unbeknownst to the general public, she chose major surgery while she was there, as opposed to mere plastic rejuvenation, to hide the burn on her otherwise flawless thigh. She had the gun emplacement hidden from all records to prevent any leakage of information. There was no way that she'd ever be caught out again in such a hostile situation. She'd lost eleven crew and friends during that flight. The technology was a major advancement in cybernetics. A section of synthetic flesh covered by a thin layer of her own skin concealed a metal compartment containing the gun, which was actually mounted in an extendable frame that was bolted to her thigh bone. The release mechanism involved a complicated muscular contraction combined with repeated and specific depression of a hidden pad in her thigh, to prevent unintended activation of the weapon.

Tyler's jaw dropped. His heart beat violently in his chest as he imagined his death at the hands of his own slave. Not five minutes ago he had gushed semen into her anus and now she held his life in her trembling hand.

"Don't move."

"I won't! Rest assured of that!" Sobriety came back to him with a rush. He swallowed painfully and tried to crack a smile. "I... er... I thought you said that you loved me?"

"I think I still do."

He hadn't expected that response. Maybe he could use her affection to his advantage. Maybe he could persuade her to lower the wide muzzled gun that hovered a yard in front of his face, threatening him with a violent blazing death.

"But don't try and use that to manipulate me. Then I'll be forced to kill you," she said, "and we'll both lose. I really do feel for you. I want to be here, but something inside me also wants me to stop this insane festival of depravity."

"Please put the blaster down."

"No." She shook her head, "it's not as simple as that and you know it. All of my life I've been trained by the military. I simply cannot allow an invasion to happen if I can do anything to stop it. I don't know what to say. I'm sorry Tyler. I do love you."

Behind her, Tyler could see a movement on the ceiling. His Kraken was lowering itself from the aperture in the ceiling. He seized the moment. "If you really love me you'll put down the gun and come here." He held out his arms in resemblance of an embrace. "Please?"
 
Maybe it was something in his voice. Maybe it was her training. But something made her turn around. She saw the writhing creature bearing down on her at the very last moment and in a single fluid motion blazed it to pieces with a few short blasts and swung the gun around to keep Tyler on his back. Her rigid arms kept the gun aimed at his face as the sizzling Kraken fell to the floor and smoldered. "I would if I could, but I can't. I think I've gone too far already and if I acquiesced, then I'm sure you'd really hurt me and I don't think I can take any more pain. I do love you Tyler. I've never experienced such joy in my life since you owned me. Please forgive me for this. I will always be yours."

A reply was halfway from his lips when she lowered the wattage of the gun and stunned him with a brief blast to the head. Tyler tumbled backwards across the floor like a rag doll. It was as if he'd been kicked in the face by a horse. Unconscious, his spinning body came to rest face down on the floor some yards away from Carrie. She ran to his side to ensure that he was still alive. His pulse was strong. She recharged her gun to full power, kissed his face and left the apartment. Her heart hammered violently as she slowly made her way down the dank subterranean corridors. At every junction she expected a horde of the brutally hideous Kraken to fall upon her and tear her to pieces. The latex sheathed girl made slow but steady progress. It was purely luck that she chose to head down the incline towards the center of the crater. She had only traversed these corridors blindfolded, and so had little idea of her destination.

Her foot suddenly blazed with pain and she tumbled backwards. She hissed silently through her teeth as she realized that the floor ahead was electrified. She tore at the straps of her latex clothes and pulled them down to her ankles to cover and insulate her feet. Naked from the knees up, she approached the live floor again. Thankfully, she crossed unhindered in short restricted steps. The price of passage was high, as Carrie felt terribly vulnerable, as naked as she was, in these brutally dark caverns. Taking deep breaths she tried to control her pulse. She walked for about an hour making slow progress before a Kraken gripped her suddenly from behind. Stifling her cry, the military training took over and she back- flipped over the creature and fired a blast, point blank into its lower spine, before landing on her feet behind it. The tentacled humanoid spasmed in its death throes, yet she felt no sympathy for the alien terror, any more than she would for a male asshole on planet Earth. Kicking it to one side, she continued, with renewed caution.

A few hundred yards further down the corridor, she heard the familiar metal clanking of an approaching pony transport. She hugged the wall and approached the junction. A technician was returning Latara to her stable for the night. His member was buried deep inside her pussy, and her movements provided enough friction to keep him balanced on the lip of orgasm as they traveled. He enjoyed each step immensely, and closed his eyes as he awaited the beautiful release of the orgasm as it built into a glorious crescendo. Unfortunately for him it never came. Carrie stepped out behind them and shot the back of his head off, spattering the ceiling of the cavern with scalp and brain. The man was dead before his twitching body smacked against the floor. Latara, confused as to the unpredicted withdrawal of her mount, came to a halt a few yards farther down the corridor. Her blinkers and collar kept her ignorant as to what had just happened. Carrie kicked off the tatters of her restraining clothing and mounted Latara naked.

"Take me to the shuttle."

The pony girl hesitated awkwardly. Totally stunned, Latara had been utterly broken by Doctor Krell's conditioning and had never responded to a female voice's command. Carrie took hold of the control pad. It seemed simple enough. She jabbed the forward button. A brief crackle of electricity sent her mount ahead. Although Latara was still in a state of shock, she continued automatically. Carrie leant forward and held the gun in front of her eyes.

"Take me to the shuttle, else I'll blow the fuck out of you."

Image 23

Latara picked up speed and headed compliantly towards the shuttle-landing bay. She had been a submissive transport for some months now and knew the base inside the crater well. Carrie's heart hammered with fear as they penetrated further into the subterranean complex. A Kraken dropped to the floor some yards ahead. Carrie leveled the blaster pistol at it but the creature slithered away allowing them free passage. They must be used to the pony transports, thought Carrie, and automatically presume that the riders are always men. I could probably get all the way to the shuttle without being stopped, unless there are human guards. At least though, she was making some progress. If she hadn't been totally alert back in Tyler's apartment and shot that first Kraken, her rebellion would have lasted less than ten seconds. Carrie double-checked her blaster. It was three quarters charged. That was enough for at least a few more lethal blasts.

Latara galloped as best she could. She could hardly believe the identity of her passenger. She would have recognized that voice anywhere. It had to be Carrie Simmons. Her greatest and most hated rival at the academy. There was no mistaking her breathy tones. How the fuck did she get here? Latara thought. Still, the woman had brandished a blaster in her face, so she had no choice but to comply with the bitch. Carrie was not someone to mess with. Carrie once had caught her with her tongue up a tutor's crotch back at the training academy a few years ago and that was it! An instant investigation into her flight training results for the past two years to check for any signs of favoritism in her exam marks ensued. Relationships between lecturers and students were banned. Ever since the incident, Latara had despised Carrie for her straight-laced attitudes to everything. Her weakness for following every blasted rule in the book. 

Latara had been eventually cleared by the investigative committee, and it wasn't long after graduating either, that she could pull some strings to elevate herself through the ranks with ease. It wasn't until she was actually captured as the Captain of the Shenendoah, that she regretted overtaking Carrie's command! Who would have believed that a few years later they would be bondage slaves on a distant planet together and yet Carrie was still getting her into trouble! Now though, controlled at gunpoint, she was more than happy to comply with her former colleague, despite the hostility between them in the past. Besides, it wasn't her fault that a slave had gotten free. The burden of responsibility was surely shifted to the imbecile who let her escape! Surely Krell couldn't punish her for helping a slave escape when she was being held hostage herself.

They were within a few hundred yards of the pad when another pony transport met them coming from the opposite direction. The colonist raised his hand in greeting momentarily, before catching sight, in the gloomy corridor, of Carrie's swinging, unfettered breasts. He was so startled to see a woman astride a pony transport that he didn't notice the gun until he had almost drawn level with them. As Carrie loosed off a quick blast at him, the young colonist attempted to leap clear. The shot caught him across the mid-section, tearing through the stomach wall. Screaming, he fell from his mount onto the hard stone floor. Red lengths of intestine unfurled from his wound and splattered across the floor as his guts unfolded. Carrie turned back in the saddle and let fly another roaring salvo at him from the Blaster pistol, taking most of his head off. The screaming abruptly became a croak, then silence, but she knew that the base must have been alerted by now. Carrie urged her mount on, desperate to escape the nightmare world behind her. A quick check on the charge level of the gun showed that she was down to just a couple more shots at full power. She would have to increase her accuracy in future.

They rounded a bend and she found herself confronted by some guards. Jaded by familiarity, they didn't expect to be gunned down. Carrie progressed across the loading area and into the hold of the shuttle. She leapt off Latara's back and slammed down the loading doors. She locked them securely before tiptoeing naked towards the flight deck of the bulky shuttlecraft. A technician was checking the systems and beaming his findings to a flight controller somewhere in the command centre. They were apparently all ready for lift off, only awaiting a cargo of automatic movement detectors, leather whips, and a troop of Kraken for the Antarctic base. As the technician signed off, Carrie stepped out behind him and shot him through the chest. She had considerably lowered the wattage so as to maintain the power of the weapon for a few shots longer. The laser blast, instead of travelling effortlessly through him, merely burned a fist- sized hole into his back. The technician tumbled to the floor; one of his lungs boiling and hissing and half of his heart burned into charcoal. He coughed a few mouthfuls of blood before expiring.

Carrie kicked the corpse away from the console and took her place in the captain's chair. She threw the drive shaft into ignition and the engines began to rumble into life. Doctor Krell's face appeared on the vid-screen. "Klein! What are you doing? Klein? Can you hear me? You can't leave yet! Your hold isn't full! Are you insane?"

Carrie pulled back on the control column and the massive freighter lifted from the pad. The steering column shook violently in her hands as she elevated the craft above the gaping crater's circumference. She jammed her foot down onto the gear lever and the craft smashed her back into the seat with the g-force of acceleration. A life-scan indicated that there was only herself and Latara on board. With a sigh of relief, Carrie steered the massive craft into low orbit, escaping the base at maximum lift. When full velocity had been reached she pulled back on the flight stick and the ship thundered through the stratosphere leaving an expanding vapour trail behind her.


6
ESCAPE FROM PLANET SEX

The vid-screen burst into life on the flight deck again. This time Krell was slightly less demonstrative. "Well, Miss Simmons, it would appear that you have managed to spring something of a surprise upon my staff. That was quite a trick; y'know, the old leg thing." Krell chuckled. "I'd never have spotted it in a million years. Bravo my dear. But I have to be serious now. Enough of the pleasantries." Krell stroked his long moustache. "Please return the craft to the pad. I promise that you will not be treated badly."

"How gullible do you think I am Krell?" She snarled. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Obviously too stupid for me!" Doctor Krell smashed his fist against the console in a completely uncharacteristic display of uncontrolled violence. He threw back his head and roared bestially. Abruptly, he turned his face to the screen. "I saved you from failure on Earth. I gave you satisfaction like you've never known. I gave you your very own place in paradise. I even gave you a man to love and you cannot deny that!"

"I do love Tyler!" She affirmed, "and if you harm him, the next time I fly past it won't be in a freighter but a warship, and I'll blow your bastard planet to pieces!"

"Do it!" Krell screamed into the vid-screen. "Do it, I dare you, and my batteries will blast you from the sky! You shot and killed one of my children on your way out! He only just turned twenty, and yet you still decided to shoot his guts out!" Spittle hit the screen, as Doctor Krell's fury seemed to increase. "Then you go and take his head apart so I couldn't even put him together again in the medical bay even if I wanted to!"

Carrie's resolve faltered as she recalled the young colonist on the pony transport. "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't know!" Krell bellowed, "you are just a slave! You don't actually need to fucking know anything! All you have to do is lie there and be fucked! Why couldn't you have just done that? Why didn't you continue to be happy in my service?"

"Screaming about it won't bring your son back."

"No, but it kinda gets a little something off my chest!"

Carrie steered the ship through the outer layers of the atmosphere and the view screen ahead showed the sterile emptiness of space. "I'm sorry about your son, Krell, but you're a dangerous lunatic. I'm just doing my job." 

"Damn right you are! You're gonna make a lot of guys really happy back on Earth!"

"What do you mean?"

"That fucking shuttle you stole?" Krell became manic. "It's pre- programmed to fly you to the Antarctic base. They already know that you're coming and Earth Central Command won't hear a damn thing about it! The entire ship is shielded from their radar by my jamming station." 

Carrie attempted to alter the course of the craft but the control column remained unresponsive. With a growing panic, she tried to hail Earth but received only static.

"That's right, bitch, you are alone out there!" Krell's voice cracked into manic laughter. "And you are heading straight for a base of two hundred men, most of whom have never seen a woman naked! I've got a feeling that you just might be propositioned when you get there! So-long, bitch. I'll see you in a few months. That is, if there's anything left of you once they've had their fun."
 
Carrie fought the controls but to no avail. The ship was locked into its flight-path. Tears of frustration coursed down her cheeks as she attempted to override the computer. Latara trotted into the flight deck. Carrie removed her gag.

"Help me. For fuck's sake, how do you override the ship's computer?" 

Latara stared blankly at Carrie, scarcely able to believe that they had crossed Doctor Krell.

"Can you speak?" Carrie shook her. "Fucking say something!"

"I..." she wheezed.

"Yes?"

"I..." Latara repeated

"Go on," Carrie urged..

"I think..." Latara began.

"What?" Carrie screamed at her, "what?"

"I think, we're fucked!"

Krell turned off the transmitter and took a deep breath. He still had another fifty or so children, but it was always an irritation when one got killed. He lost six kids last year when an incoming shuttle was caught in a meteor storm as it dropped out of Quantum space. No matter, he thought. He had intended to send a few women to Earth anyway to test out the newly refurbished conditioning chambers. Carrie had saved him the trouble of deciding which girls to send. He hoped she was going to enjoy herself. Two hundred horny men in an ice cavern a hundred feet below the permafrost of Antarctica was a tall order for anyone to satisfy. 

With a sigh, Krell rose and left the command room. Tyler had learnt his most valuable lesson. It was a mistake he had also made once too. The love of a woman was a heady aphrodisiac, and a simple distracted moment of leniency had cost Krell his penis. Bitten off and irreparably chewed up in front of his own eyes before he could summon the guards. Krell paused for a moment at the entrance to the control room. Carrie certainly had guts. He almost admired her. When he went to Antarctica himself on the next shuttle, Krell mulled, he would take her to level five.

*****

The D-class freight shuttle made steady progress towards Earth; inexorably transporting it's distressed occupants into the clutches of Doctor Krell's minions. Carrie strode purposefully across the flight deck, a toolbox from the supply hold clutched firmly in her right hand. Although she was still naked, she dared not spend any precious time to attempt to find overalls. Her large breasts quivered with each determined tread of her delicate bare feet on the cold steel of the ship's gangways.

Behind her, Latara de Ville followed. She was still trapped inside the pony girl harness. Despite her incarceration and lengthy training in Krell's clutches, she was still self aware enough to remember how much she hated her current travelling companion. They had been bitter rivals since their days at the flight-training academy together when they were younger and had fought over captaincy of the flagship of Earth's exploration fleet. Latara gained the upper hand over Carrie, thanks primarily to her mother's influence, until they had both been reduced to slaves at the hands of the evil Dr. Krell. She couldn't believe that Carrie had actually used her as a transport to escape, riding her through the corridors of the base to the shuttle bay. It was something she could never forgive. Being ridden by a fellow slave! The indignation was bubbling over into rage as the gravity of their escape dawned on her. She angrily clip-clopped after Carrie. 

"What the hell are you doing now?" Latara snarled as Carrie set the toolbox down and bent over the control console with her back to Latara. Her ass stuck out over the edge of the console almost into Latara's face. "I don't want to see your slimy gash sticking up at me like that!"

Carrie ignored her and continued in her attempt to break into the flight computer's casing. Latara cantered to one side of her in an attempt to get a better view of what the woman was doing. "You'll never get the cover off that way!" 

Carrie turned to face her equine companion. "Will you just give me some room! I'm trying to save our asses here!"

"Your ass needs saving. It's sagging already. How old are you now? Twenty-seven, twenty-eight? By the time you're thirty it'll be hanging down your thighs. Krell obviously didn't train you very well. What were you anyway? A fuck wall? A table? You know I was his personal transport. He chose me specially from over two thousand women," Latara boasted, her voice laden with scorn.

In truth Carrie's ass was perfect and she couldn't have cared less about Latara's opinions. She was, however, annoyed at the constant interruption.

"For fuck's sake will you try to be more helpful! If I can re-route the ship back to Central Command, we can warn them about Krell's insane plans.' Carrie stood up from her labours and turned to the irritating pony transport. "Or don't you want to be saved? Would you prefer it if Krell subjugated the entire planet to his twisted will! Do you want to look like that for the rest of your life?" She gestured with an electro-wrench towards Latara. "A fucking horse!"

"Of course I want to escape. I just don't want to delude myself the way you are doing now. This whole shuttle has Krell's modifications stamped all over it! There's no way we can escape from his clutches."

"I did it once. I'll do it again!"

"I wouldn't call this escape exactly! Stuck on a ship blasting towards his base on Earth with no way to change course. It's just a brief respite. Besides, he likes me the best out of all his slaves so he won't let those Earth wankers touch me when we hit planetside. They wouldn't dare take advantage of their boss's mount. But you killed his son. He's gonna make you pay!"

"Thanks for the encouragement, now why don't you go eat some fucking hay or something while I try and get into the computer!" Carrie's voice wavered with stress, threatening to break into sobs at any moment. She had been frantically trying every avenue of hope available to her to try and alert the Earth using the com-link system, but to no avail. She changed her priority to attempting to knock the ship off course. She would try anything that would shift them from the cloaked flight-path that kept them invisible to the space tracking stations back home. After trying desperately but in vain for hours, she was nearing breaking point.

The video screen crackled into life and Krell's smiling, bald headed face appeared. He stroked his long moustache as he spoke.

"Hello girls. I'm not interrupting am I? Good! Just a brief message to remind you, that you have exactly eleven hours before you land. I hope you are using your time productively, getting yourselves nice and wet for the guys in Antarctica, they're really looking forward to your arrival." 

"Damn you, Krell!"

"Such venom." Krell sighed. "I really had Myra pegged down as being the potential trouble maker, but you, I didn't expect that hidden gun implant! Nice move! It's a pity that you didn't plan your escape very well, otherwise you'd have me worrying. I see that you are trying to tamper with the controls. I feel it's only fair to warn you that if you succeed in exposing the flight computer, you will trigger a small explosive device that will regrettably kill you and your friend there, while leaving my nice big, metal, spaceship completely undamaged." He paused to let his words sink in. "I don't want that. Really I don't, you are far too precious to waste. Tyler would be gutted I'm sure, and I, as an aficionado of everything beautiful in nature, would also regret the extinction of all the delicious possibilities I have in mind for you in the near future."

Carrie let the tool slip from her fingers and onto the deck. Abandoning her attempt to remove the flight computer's casing. She tried to hold back tears. Krell was such a bastard, he had out-thought her on the failed rescue mission, and now he was still a few steps ahead of her in her own damn escape attempt. She couldn't continue with her task any further. She had no way to know if he was bluffing, if there really was a bomb beneath the secure hatch in front of her. She couldn't risk both of their lives finding out, despite the hatred she felt for the pathetic Latara. Even if there was no such booby trap, there was no guarantee that she could override the CPU's flight plan. Carrie was beaten.

Image 24

"Master," Latara began breathlessly addressing the screen, "I had no choice, she kidnapped me and forced me to take her to the shuttle."

"Aaah my dear, full of reproach. You really thought you could get away?" 

"No never. I didn't want to go! I need you."

"Don't worry. I shall have you back sooner rather than later. I'm loading another shuttle to follow you. I can't risk any mishaps this close to the invasion. Tyler will be coming too Carrie, once his sore head clears up, and boy is he mad! Zorn has special instructions for you!"

"Zorn?"

"Commander of the Antarctic base, and also my eldest son. I tell you, if you thought I was bad..." Krell shook his head and whistled. "He hates bitches like you who fly around in starships thinking you're so superior. Even I have to reel him in sometimes, he really has a chip on his shoulder when it comes to empty headed women with cushy lives and big salaries!" 

"But Master, I live only to serve you!" Latara wept.

Krell's hand hovered momentarily over the disconnect switch. "I know!" The screen went blank.

"What a mess we're in now! This is all your fault you stupid bitch!" 

That did it. Carrie was totally pissed off at the bitching Latara. Within minutes she had re-gagged the frantically resisting horsewoman, and then with a flash of inspiration, bound her front and rear leg pairs together. A third cord drew the trussed appendages into a joined foursome. Latara found herself struggling to retain balance with all her supporting members drawn tightly into a single four-footed arrangement. Fearfully, she hopped awkwardly as Carrie drew her towards a wall and neck-chained her to a stanchion, then a second later was converted into a creditable bucking bronco. Carrie had taped down the goad button at maximum and was walking away. For ten minutes Latara bucked and hopped as the searing bolts toasted her asshole, then her eyes popped wide open as she saw Carrie reappear with a huge strap on dildo. Switching the goad off, but without disconnecting Latara's feet, Carrie mounted her and drove the dildo into her unoccupied pussy. Then Latara responded in the only way she could, as the goad button resumed maximum setting. 

“MMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHH!”

For twenty minutes Carrie rode the convulsing horse woman as she snagged and surged with frantic lurches against the neck chain. It was fun, and Latara made an exciting ride. But eventually, two orgasms later, Carrie withdrew and dismounted, leaving the double-ended dildo buried deep into the cavorting rear of the electrified horse woman. Latara looked so divinely humiliated with that waving shaft jutting from her convulsing nether regions.

Carrie slumped back and leaned heavily on the captain's chair, her eyes resting thoughtfully on the hopping horsewoman who was now back at maximum goad setting. She was at a loss. That bitch Latara was right. She had screwed things up big time! There was no way to change course. Carrie racked her brain for ideas, at one time rising and adjusting Latara's bit and bridle to haul her head tightly back. She liked to see the helpless venom in the bucking horsewoman's eyes, and found herself enjoying the bitch's predicament for a while as her mind assessed the options. If they couldn't stop the ship from going to the hidden base, maybe there was a way to get off the ship. It was, after all, a D-class freighter; it should have at least two escape capsules. With renewed vigour she leapt to her feet and jogged down the perimeter corridor to the emergency airlocks. 

Urgent wails of fear and the tapping of a bronco's hooves hardly penetrated her thoughts as Latara was left to her own devices. Gagged, chained, hobbled and electrified, there was little Latara could do as she danced to the tune of the surging butt hole torment. In addition to all the electrical activity around her rear end, Latara was experiencing other forms of torment. The heavy waving dildo thrust deeply into her pussy and strapped into place was constantly massaging her clit as it waggled furiously with her enforced movement. Horribly unwanted orgasms were just another torment to add to her misery.

Carrie arrived at the emergency airlocks only to be disappointed yet again. The escape pods were intact, but a heavy metal lock across them prevented access. She cried in frustration and beat feebly against the metal door. It was no use. Krell was still out-thinking her!

*****

Krell turned from the view screen. Tyler entered the control deck sheepishly; still sporting a large bruise that blackened his forehead from the low wattage blast he'd received the day before, and sat opposite Krell. Krell eyed him, as a father would scrutinise an errant child. There were a number of choice punishments that could well take the sting out of Tyler's libido available to Krell, but he was feeling in a lenient mood. He couldn't really blame Tyler for Carrie's escape, after all, it was a pretty neat trick to pull! A hidden cybernetic gun implant in her thigh covered with artificial flesh.

"I'm sorry about the mess."

"I've lived out here twenty years causing abominable stress and torture as easily as the President fucks her interns, something like this was bound to happen sooner or later! You have only been here a couple of months, and despite the aforesaid trouble-free years, have been party to a simple hiccup, nothing more, and I don't hold you personally responsible." Krell's knuckles whitened as he gripped the arm of his chair. He took a few snorts of air violently through his nostrils before being able to complacently smile again. It seemed that the eccentric Doctor had managed a curious anger control reflex.

"I'm really sorry." Tyler blanched. "Look, I've had a stab at making your trolleys more fun. I was going to show you it tomorrow with Carrie on board, but, well, I fucked up there, as we all know. Instead I've put Elisabeth the navigator on it." Tyler went to the doorway and wheeled in the beautiful young girl. For once she was positioned upright as opposed to her customary upside down bondage. Tyler had, in the past few weeks been curious as to what she had done to deserve being inverted in all of her bondage strictures, and was disappointed to find that she was merely Australian. Given Krell's English heritage, he thought it amusing to position her in such a way. This was a bit of a let down to Tyler as he thought it must have been some heinous affront that had led to her special brand of torture.

Krell watched as his only antipodean was trundled into sight. She was a beauty, straight from Bondi beach with long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Even after months in captivity and long hours in the dingy torture rooms of Krell's volcano lair, she still retained the luscious even tan of the Australian female. He was pleased to note that she seemed to writhe deliciously in synchronicity with the movement of the trolley. By turns she stiffened rigidly and squirmed with every muscle and sinew straining.

"I've fitted a cam shaft to the axle." Tyler smiled. "That way I've made the anal positioning length move eight inches forward and back as the wheels turn. Not only does it electrocute her on crossing each live line, but it butt-fucks her perfectly every few feet travelled!"

Krell seemed impressed. He stood up and approached the girl. She was tightly bound to the trolley's support frame. Her arms tight to her sides, her legs clamped by thick bands to the frame. She was wearing an inflatable gag that filled her mouth cavity to bursting proportions. Her cheeks bulged over the leather strapping of the gag. Her blinders had been left off to revealing her seductive big, blue eyes, which were now red rimmed and slightly bloodshot from crying, to let her masters see her displeasure, and also as to allow her to see where she was being taken. It was a cruel thing to do, as Tyler had led her along an unnecessarily roundabout way to the command centre, giving her ample opportunity to appreciate the long corridors and the constant thrusting inside her anus of the unforgiving steel of the anal probe. It was with some satisfaction that he heard her moan in fear at the prospect of a really long straight and a severe anal shafting as they progressed.

Image 25

Krell took a grip of the handles at the rear of the trolley and pushed her a few feet forward. The thick rod of metal slid effortlessly upwards into her soft fleshy sphincter. The muscle was sorely stretched and her nostrils flared with the pain of the slow penetration. He rolled her back again and the thick metal shaft withdrew with a slick fluid sound. The self-greasing mechanism of the shaft had also been souped up to contend with the extra friction. She squirmed in pain and a muted whimper escaped the gag. Krell looked into her pleading eyes and a broad grin spread across his face.

"An excellent idea. I think I'll have these implemented across the base. A marvellous improvement! You have done more than enough to make amends."

Krell pushed the trolley backwards and forwards a number of times. The camshaft plunged the anal dildo in and out of her, stretching the flesh and filling her terribly with it's massive glistening length. She gasped and moaned through the gag in a feeble protest as the two men watched in fascination the shafting mechanism as it disappeared wetly between her repeatedly clenching buttocks. They could see her thigh muscles straining as the shaft fucked her, the thick leather straps creaked and the dangling chains clinked together as she fought to escape the raping, but the broad, brutally tight straps reduced her movements to the merest tensing of muscles. Her nostrils flared repeatedly as she fought for breath in between sobs. Krell mulled over the girl's pained expression seemingly examining how much discomfort she was in by the severity of her facial contortion. They were, after all, her only free muscular movements.

Krell stood to his full height and firmly gripped the handles at the rear of the trolley. As Tyler began to speak, Krell, with his long legged stride, pushed the girl ahead of him around the perimeter of the spacious control room.

"I also have an idea about punishment chairs. How they can be adapted back on Earth to accommodate females."

"Ah, yes, the scourge of the male slave." Krell said, as he passed on his second lap of the room. "I understand that you suffered for many a year on the wrong end of such a device." His footsteps rang on the metal grating of the floor as he loped along, accelerating the anal rape.

Tyler nodded uncomfortably.

Krell was nearing a jog as he began his third lap. The camshaft driven prongs were reaming the girl almost senseless and her spurting gasps and high-pitched squeals seemed to measure the distance of the room. Between each footfall, Tyler could faintly hear the slippery squelching of the penetrating rods as they plopped in and out of the squirming girl. For the final pass Krell gave a short burst of speed and broke into a run for the last fifty yards. Elisabeth's squeal became a high pitched wail that lasted long after the doctor had come to a screeching halt beside Tyler. The hot friction that the metal dildos had generated had caused some of the self-greasing lubricant to give off wisps of blue smoke.

"Well, give your plans to the guys in the workshops and we'll see what we can do!"

"Thanks Doctor Krell."

The scientist smiled. He had at one stage considered killing Tyler for his incompetence, in a fit of rage, but the guy was well worth giving another chance!

Tyler wheeled the young Elisabeth outside and a flash of sparks skittered across the floor as the trolley made a live connection with a metallic strip along the length of the entranceway. The girl jerked and convulsed as she stiffened with the surging current. Then, as the electricity waned, she made a feeble attempt to escape the stinging electrical charges that continually seared her. It was a futile attempt. She was held firmly in place and the savagely tight straps attaching her to the machine left painful red marks on her bulging skin. The titanic struggles increased yet again as her eyes spotted the next metal strip. But it was all a waste of effort. All she did was provide the males with a tantalising show of bulging, cinched womanhood as she was wheeled towards the metal.

"WMMMMPPPPHHH!"

The Australian beauty convulsed and froze into a stiffened effigy as Tyler momentarily parked her on the strip; as it worked out, with the anal shaft buried deep into her butt hole as the cam reached maximum lift. Tyler paused to feel the quivering electrified paralysis that had sculpted her straining ass muscles into rigid hard profiles of luxuriant female curvature, then continued on his way.

Krell crossed the control room and poured himself a stiff drink as the sounds of torment and a squeaky trolley wheel receded.

"Crackle-WMMMMPPPPHHH!"

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

"Crackle-WMMMMPPPPHHH!"

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

"Crackle-WMMMMPPPPHHH!"

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

"Crackle-WMMMMPPPPHHH!"

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

Subconsciously, he calculated that there were some ten strips in the passage, and depending on which route Tyler took to the laboratory, at least another seventy on the way and it pleased him to think of the tightly cinched beauty jerking, straining, and convulsing as she was constantly fucked. No doubt the workshop staff would also test her extensively before settling on the production version.

He sat at the console. The radar was monitoring the escaped shuttle. The flight-path was going perfectly to plan. He had nothing more to worry about from the escapees. He flicked a switch on his private com-link, placed his hand on a palm reader for identification and then keying in his secret code, sat back and awaited the reply.

Back on Earth, a tall brunette in her early forties with perfect skin and the figure of a twenty-year old excused herself from a board meeting. The assembled female delegates murmured their assent and she left the long metal, bunker-like assembly hall through a pair of sliding glass doors and walked out onto a veranda. She looked out on the city below from two thousand feet up the side of a tower block.

Adelle Shelley was the Chairwoman of a massive freight trading company that kept the off-world civilian outposts, and military alike, although less lucratively, well supplied. She was a billionairess several times over and hated almost more than anything, the hypocrisy of trade negotiations and board meetings. Perhaps what typified Adelle most and set her apart from the others, was the fact that she was an unrepentant bondage freak, heavily into both sadistic and masochistic pleasures. She had known Krell briefly when she was younger, and now worked for him through the 'Paradise Sect,' Krell's underground organisation set up superficially to raise funds for preserving the Earth's devastated forests and prevent the extinction of its animal life. In reality it was an elaborate cover operation to fund Krell's massive network of spies, and the Antarctic base of operations for his impending invasion and take over of the Central Command. Adelle was also the only free woman that Krell could grudgingly acknowledge as worthy of the phrase, seeing that she was free from any moral or ethical baggage. As well as having her liberty from his restraints, she was a member of Earth Central Command's advisory council, and helped pick many of the crew that were originally sent to Planet X, knowing full well their ultimate fate.

She rested her com-link screen on the thick walls of the open-air patio and punched the acceptance button. The remote terminal beamed her signal to her own privately shielded transmitters and undetected, into space. She waited for a few minutes as the signal travelled light years, and idly watched the evening's traffic fly by. The hover cars and jet crafts filled the sky in orderly columns like a swarm of insects buzzing around the tall buildings, glinting as in their millions they flew through the last rays of the setting red sun.

Krell's face flickered onto the view screen.

"Hello, my dear, and how are you this fine morning?"

"It's evening on Earth and I'm busy Krell." Adelle replied in a terse manner, well used to Krell's intrusions. "I take it from your overtly jovial tone that something has gone wrong, and I presume that you need my help." 

"Astute my dear, but not entirely correct. The situation is under control. A shuttle is on its way to Earth with ex-Captains Latara de Ville and Carrie Simmons on board."

"And?" She prompted.

"Well," he paused and drummed his fingers on the console for a moment, "they're the only ones on board!"

"An escape! I didn't think it was possible." Adelle sounded concerned. "Shall I have it destroyed?"

"That won't be necessary, I'm merely keeping you informed of the situation. They should follow the normal flight path and pass unnoticed into the base." Krell took a sip from his drink. "But..."

"There's always a but!"

"It pays to cover all bases. I want you to effect immediate monitoring of the ECC's scanners in that area. And I want you to jam it manually if they get a sniff of anything. I can't afford to be detected."

"Damn it, Krell, that could be risky in itself!"

"That bitch Carrie Simmons is pretty resourceful. There's no telling what she might get up to as the ship approaches planet-fall. I'm just taking extra precautions in doing this you understand. Nothing should go wrong, but you know what to do should anything happen."

"Of course, Krell, how could anyone forget when they are constantly reminded of your contingency plans every couple of weeks. I really don't think that you show enough faith in me!"

"Well why should I, you are a woman!" Krell smirked, "Ciao!"

The screen when blank. Damn him, Adelle thought, he was forever doing that, making a glib or offending remark and then vanishing into the ether before she could have a chance to retort. She stood tall and erect as she gathered her com-link from the ledge and let out a sigh. Those two escapees could cause a whole shit load of grief. She turned on her heel and re- entered the boardroom. She took her place at the head of the table, but instead of returning to her seat, she dismissed the assembly. Voices were raised in protest.

"But we haven't finished here, we need to establish the extent of the sanctioned boundary!" An important minister began, looking up from polishing her long painted nails.

"Who'll get the contract for the building of the new fleet," a head of industry whined, flicking at her long red hair.

"Look, I have just had a vitally important transmission concerning a threat from the Eastern Freight Corporation. It seems that they are planning a coalition bid with some of our rivals. That could eat into our market share by up to forty percent."

She let her lies sink in. A few jaws widened. They all knew that Adelle had covert intelligence and double agents working for her, but this news both surprised and horrified them.

"Is this true?" The transport minister asked, her face visibly paler than it had been despite her excessive make up.

"At the moment it's just a rumour that's been brought to my attention, and if you don't mind ladies, I would like to retire to my quarters to investigate this matter further." Adelle smiled to herself. These power greedy bitches would give her all the time she wanted if it meant protecting their flabby asses. "It could be a false alarm, but why risk it?"

They all agreed heartily and gathered their files and com-links. She waited until they had all left before leaving the boardroom herself, and then entered her private living quarters. She depressed a switch and a secret wall hummed open revealing an inner chamber. She removed her paraphernalia of the office; an armband, cap and tight fitting velvet jacket, to expose her breasts as she entered the large secret annex. She removed a hairpin and allowed her long tresses to splash free over her shoulders, relieved to be free of the pressures of the meeting and back in the comfort of her own rooms again. A huge computer bank stretched the entire length of one wall with it's large screens displaying complex maps and star-charts. Jamming equipment was aimed at key installations across the globe. It was a highly sophisticated set up, paid for entirely by the proceeds of the fund raising for the 'Paradise Sect' so the money was absolutely untraceable and nothing could be linked to her own accounts. She was practically the only person on Earth who knew of the room's existence. And yet, Adelle was not the only one in the secret room.

A young man was enmeshed in a steel harness that forced him into a sitting position, and centred him over a revolving base with four wheels at each corner. He had basically been moulded into shape as a human chair! She grabbed him by the arm and he rolled along the floor on his wheels until she drew him up to the front of the main console. She hitched up her black plastic mini skirt and lowered herself onto his member, savouring the penetration of his chemically induced erection which would last for another eight or ten hours, before she would need to give him another pill.

Adelle shifted on his lap, resting her weight on first one bared buttock, then the other as she made herself comfortable and was satisfied that she had slid down his entire length, before turning her gaze to the console in front of her. Adelle punched a few buttons and tapped into a direct feed from the tracking stations that would be the first to spot any deviation from Krell's misappropriated shuttle. She aimed her most sophisticated jamming equipment at them and sat back, pressing herself onto the erect penis, enjoying the stiffness plunging into her yielding, soft passage. It could be a few hours before anything happened and she might have to make herself come a few times to keep herself alert.

Above her, hanging from the ceiling, was a bound and gagged woman. One of the top-ranked flight-commanders of the Eastern Freight Corporation no less. She had been taken a few months back by one of Krell's smash and grab kidnappings that were occasionally blamed on dissident political factions or rebellious slaves, and as a result went unsolved, the authorities involved at a total loss to explain the exact reason behind the unexpected abductions. Once Adelle had heard that one of the women acquired had been one of her main business competitors, she had to have her installed!

The woman looked down with large tearful brown eyes. Her olive skin was stretched and bulging as she supported her own weight by the numerous ringed piercings through which chains, arranged almost like a spider's web across the ceiling, kept her in place, swaying slightly as she breathed. Black straps bit deeply into her flesh, so tight that she could only catch her breath in shallow gasps. Her long jet-black hair had been completely shorn to demoralise her, and in the three weeks that she'd been suspended, not a single word of explanation had been proffered. The woman could speak no English and consequently had no idea as to the crime that she believed she must have committed to be in such a predicament. Adelle looked up. The tearful Asian looked down at her with pleading, questioning eyes. Adelle shook her head and stood up. The woman was right; she shouldn't be left hanging there doing nothing all day. She crossed the room to a sliding compartment and rifled through its contents. She removed a large double pronged phallus and using the human chair to stand on so she could reach, proceeded to force it violently into the writhing woman's crotch.

Satisfied that it was as far in as it would go, Adelle turned a dial in its base and the phallus swelled inside her, securely plugging itself into position. She stepped down off the chair and regarded her captive. The woman's eyes were closed and her face was screwed up in agony. Clearly she wasn't used to accommodating such girths. At least now though, she had something to worry about. Adelle turned back to the view screens, nestled herself again onto the chair's penis and continued to monitor the computer screens.

*****

The shuttle had resisted all of Carrie's attempts so far to divert it's course and was fast approaching the Earth's outer atmosphere. Several tracking stations had scanned it, but due to the massive operation in Antarctica continuously beaming an invisible shield into space along the designated flight-path, they hadn't registered a thing.

Carrie had been searching for last gasp emergency override facilities and even a self-destruct button that would at least alert the Earth to something going on out in space, but again she found that Krell had everything covered. Latara had been typically useless. Carrie still hadn't even bothered trying to remove the woman from her pony transport harness, and had no real intention of doing so. It seemed though, that the longer Latara was out of Krell's grip, the more faith she had in actually escaping. There was no doubt that she had been well and truly broken by his conditioning into becoming a loyal servant, but the fear of her impending punishment for escaping with Carrie was beginning to erode her fealty. She was also starting to feel very self-conscious about her attire this close to Earth. It was almost as if she had been free to live out her fantasies on Krell's 'Planet Sex' because there, every woman was equal. Now that there was a chance of returning to her previous position of power and importance on Earth, Latara was reverting into her old self. She galloped towards Carrie who was sitting naked on the floor near the flight deck. 

"Why have you stopped?"

"What?"

"There must be something that you can do to make Earth sit up and take notice!" Latara urged.

"I've tried everything! Krell's beaten us. We'd better get used to the idea of being fucked by a whole lot of bastards in the next hour or so! I'm going to see if I can find any alcohol and get shit faced so as I don't have to be too aware when they get hold of me!" She rose awkwardly to her feet, limbs aching with the hours of fruitless labour.

"But you can't just give up hope!"

"I don't see you coming up with any ideas, Latara!"

"That's not the point, there must be something we can do! That blaster of yours, how many shots have you got left?"

"Why, do you reckon I should save two for us when the time comes?" 

"Don't be melodramatic, we could hold them at bay or something!" 

"I've got about enough power to light a candle with the damned thing. The only way it could be used for anything is if I set it to self-destruct and even then it wouldn't be enough to actually kill any of them in the blast, it would probably be only enough to burn a hole through..."

"What? Burn a hole through what?"

Carrie hefted the gun in her palm. It just might work, she reasoned. She took off along the corridor heading to the escape pods.

"Burn a hole in what?" Latara called after her, "ignorant bitch! Manners cost nothing." She turned herself around, breasts swaying as the pierced nipples swung with weights, and set off after the other woman, her tight leather harness creaking and clicking as she moved.

Latara found her examining the steel bolt across the entrance to the escape pods.

"If I can burn this away, there's a chance we can eject!" Carrie said with elation. "The instant that the pod leaves the protected radar corridor, the Earth's scanners will pick us up!"

"And we'll be free!" Latara clapped her metal shod hooves onto the flight deck in delight. "Go for it! We've got less than forty five minutes before we land!"
 
Carrie carefully primed the gun for destruct. Taking a roll of industrial tape, she secured the weapon to the steel bolt. She made Latara retreat to a safe distance before finally pulling the trigger and ducking away herself. The gun began to combust. First it began to glow red hot, the adhesive tape burned away, but the metal had begun to melt onto the bolt and the gun remained in place. Carrie covered her ears and a few seconds later there was a dull whump and the air shook with force of the small detonation. Pieces of the securing bolt clattered across the corridor and when the smoke cleared, the door controls were exposed.

"Pardon?" Said Latara sporting a grimace. She had no way with which to cover her ears, her arms now serving as an extra pair of legs, and was now enduring a painful ringing noise that echoed long after the blast.

"We can get off this hunk of shit!"

Latara beamed and followed Carrie as she opened the door into the escape pod chamber. She ran to the first pod and tried to pull the release lever. There wasn't one. In it's place, a palm reader flashed glibly at her inviting her to reveal her identity. An identity no doubt, she realised, that the computer would find invalid and refuse her access. Krell had modified every aspect of the ship seemingly to contend with this exact scenario, she thought correctly, as indeed he had. Latara began to softly sob behind her in frustration.

"Wait a minute!" Carrie looked across the control panel against the escape bay wall. "There's no way he could have planned for me to blow open this chamber. The security escape pods are just standard for a control freak like Krell. He put the I.D. pads on just so only his crew, and none of the slaves could make it off the ship alive. There's still a way to jettison the pods from the ship!"

"What good is that if we aren't on them." Latara sobbed, a salty tear running down her face and dropping onto her breast.

"They'll detect it and be able to trace the pod! It's trajectory should give them some indication of foul play and when they investigate and find Krell's wretched base, we'll be freed!"

Latara sniffed back tears. "Well it's something at least."

"You go back to the bridge and keep an eye on our ETA, I'll stay here and fire off the pod. We'll have to lose it pretty late on if it's to land near the base and bring the cavalry." She looked at Latara's pony outfit. "Oops, sorry."

"Turn on that intercom, I'll signal when we approach the base," Latara said, trying to ignore Carrie's last remark.

The women separated. Carrie hoped that Latara wouldn't screw up and make her fire the pod once they were already ensconced inside the hangar! The minutes ticked by and she could feel the turbulence of atmospheric re-entry. It wouldn't be long now. On the bridge, Latara poked her nose against the intercom switch and checked that they were in clear contact with each other, before taking up a place at the helm, monitoring the ship's rate of descent and time of arrival as the clock ticked down. With a good deal of arithmetic she worked out that it would be best to fire the pod at twenty thousand feet. It was high enough to be seen and not too high as to land the pod at too great a distance from the base. She didn't want to fire the pod too low in case it passed beneath the range of the radar stations, or just appeared as a random blip that would drop from sight before anyone could get a fix on it.

"We're approaching optimum drop," Latara said into the intercom, her years of flight training returning to her. "Drop in five... Four... Three... Two..."

Carrie's hand trembled nervously over the manual release switch on the console. Beads of sweat breaking on her brow.

"One..."

She slammed her fist down, and behind her the ship released a pod. It hurtled into the distance. For the first time in months Carrie saw the sky of her home planet, as the sun streamed in through the window of the escape bay door, filling the area where the sealed pod had rested with a warm yellow glow. A well of emotion swept through her, bringing a tear to her eye. This planet, where she held such a dignified position, her home, status and everything she cared for was under threat. She was returning, not bathed in triumph for rescuing the flagship, but as an escaped sex slave. It sent a chill through her as she saw the gleaming white continent below her and thought of the countless women on the other side of the globe that had no inkling of the threat against their freedom. Carrie punched the second switch, and sent the second escape capsule tumbling away from the underbelly of the ship towards the glassy expanse below. She said a silent prayer that they would be spotted, before joining Latara on the bridge to await their fate at the hands of Zorn together.

*****
