Taken and Mated

by Samantha Madisen

The room began to grow lighter some time later, slowly and gently, causing Lana to wake. The temperature also seemed to increase on the same gentle slope, and Lana fought the urge to appreciate the gentle waking in her prison. It was so distinct from the sharp yelling of her aunt in the dark, urging her to beat the light, drawing her from under the thin blankets and into the sharp desert cold.

  She sat up and pondered her next move for only a moment. She went to the toilet, where she found running water in the sink, and an item that looked like a toothbrush.

  She explored the room a little; opening the closet proved impossible as she could not determine where the switch was.

  She sat, wondering what to do, but not for long. A rapid succession of beeps and a hiss opened the door.

  A man, wearing white, and with a soft aspect and gentle mannerisms, entered the room. He smiled at her, and his smile was much less aggressive than the commander’s. Lana was surprised to find that she almost felt a friendly rapport between them, nearly immediately.

  “I am Anasi. I am Assistant Twelve. I am your trainer’s assistant,” the man—who looked also like a boy—told her simply.

  The door hissed closed.

  Lana’s mouth fell open, but she was not sure of what to say.

  Anasi indicated the closet by gesturing toward it. “You may put on your robe, if you are not being disciplined,” he suggested.

  Lana looked at the closet, then back to Anasi. “I... I... don’t, didn’t realize... I don’t know how to open the...” She waved at the closet.

  Anasi smiled and stepped toward the door, which was only recognizable as a door by the outline of the clean white material, and a sign that said ‘closet’ in Pratean script, which Lana was able to decipher because it was picture-based.

  Anasi held his hand in front of the door in the center, and the door itself seemed to dissolve. The small area behind it lit up with the same blue light that framed the window. Inside, a single clothing item hung from a hook. It was silky and white, the size of a tunic.

  Lana gave Anasi a look and saw that he was gesturing at the item. She removed it hesitantly and tried not to react to the incredible feeling of the material between her fingers. Her mouth fell open as the silkiness caressed her fingertips. When she slipped the material over her head, she tried to feign indifference to the raw erotic pleasure it gave her.

  Anasi, who Lana was noticing just then was wearing a more masculine tunic of the same material, smiled knowingly. “It’s fantastic,” he said. “I was enslaved after living on an outpost in the moon rings of Junora.”

  Lana’s eyes lowered in recognition of the universally well-known conditions of the moon people of Junora, who had succumbed to the Imperial Realm after years of battles.

  She had a ton of questions for Anasi about his previous life, but none of them were as important as the one she actually asked him.

  “You talk about enslavement like you got some kind of... I don’t know, promotion,” she seethed, her hands still running over her tunic-encased figure. The sensation was almost excruciatingly pleasant. The fabric almost felt warm.

  Anasi smiled. “When I arrived, I was like you,” he explained. “I thought enslavement to the Imperial Realm was a terrible thing, and I was determined to fight against it at all odds.”

  He grinned, as Lana folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to say more.

  “And?” she demanded, when he did not elaborate, instead turning back to the closet to remove some slippers and place them at her feet.

  “And,” he confided softly, lifting her foot to place it first one slipper, then the next. “I discovered that I was wrong. Once I relinquished myself to the Imperial Order, and my role in it, I felt very satisfied. But you are an Atrix,” he said breathlessly, standing up. His eyes were bright. “You’ll probably be married to a king and live an extraordinary life.”

  Lana’s mouth fell open, and several thoughts jockeyed for position to be the first out of her mouth—that Anasi sounded like brainwashed nutcase, or that she’d rather be a free spinster eating garbage on Vipheon than a ritzy whore—but she was unable to say any of them. And worst of all, there was a shocking thought fluttering around amid all her indignation: this fabric felt divine, and it wouldn’t be entirely terrible to be treated like a queen instead of eating trash...

  She snapped her mouth shut, deciding to say nothing. She would keep her own counsel, and she would resist the brainwashing she would surely be subjected to.

  But telling all of this to Anasi was not in her best interests; namely, to keep her resistance a secret.

  Even if, she thought guiltily, she had enjoyed some aspects of—

  She cut herself off and looked at Anasi archly. “Well,” she said. “What now?”

  * * *

  ‘What now’ turned out to be the beginning of a day that would be repeated until Lana no longer had any sense of time or place, and to hear Anasi tell it, she would be grateful for this order and discipline in her life.

  Anasi guided her to a room that was marked in Pratean and other languages—none of them Anglais—and in Pratean, she believed, read simply: Stay Out.

  She breathed a small sigh of relief that evidently the thick-headed monsters would not be present in this room at least.

  “This is your trainer,” Anasi told her, indicating a man clad in what Lana thought of as the dress clothing of Imperial officers: a dark material that shone slightly and fit close to his bulging muscles. He had narrowed, resolute eyes that hovered over a masked nose and lips, which Lana could only imagine scowling.

  “First we will need to cleanse you,” the trainer narrated clinically, indicating the table. “You are familiar with the procedure.”

  Lana remembered the humiliating medical examination, and the sensation of warm fluid filling her. Her pussy began to grow warm and wet, but her internal modesty rebelled. Her head shook, and she looked to Anasi, who offered her a reassuring smile.

  “I’m... not... no way,” she said quietly. She backed up.

  The trainer inhaled, filling his lungs, and crossed his hands in front of him. The gesture was at once patient, but firmly indicating the end of his patience. “If you do not climb onto the table in the proper position, Atrix 12, I will be required to discipline you.”

  Lana knew she had no choice; what could she do? But again, almost involuntarily, her head shook. She wasn’t even sure why: the prospect of feeling the same sensation again held a strange appeal for her. Perhaps she was only doing it because she felt that she must, she couldn’t simply comply and become a willing sexual slave.

  Could she?

  She didn’t have time to think much about it, because the magnetic cuffs that were attached behind her back were pulling apart, and then forward, in a very similar, slow-moving, but utterly unstoppable way, and soon her arms were spreading in opposite directions across the table and her ankles were closing in on the foot of the table, leaving her bent over it. She felt the slight pressure change of her collar locking into place against the cool metal, and she strained against the binding only slightly, because it was clear that she was not going anywhere.

  The skin on her backside, almost as if it could sense what was coming next, began to feel more sore and hot than it had just moments before. What had she done? She could almost feel the sting of a hand against her bottom, and no one had even touched her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, trying to move her head to look at the trainer. “I just... I didn’t think, sir. I will get on the table—”

  Her sentence was cut short as a very sharp slap set fire to her entire bottom. It was not hand-sized, and not organic—the material that had come into contact with her skin was artificial and hard, and as the next few slaps rained upon her skin she realized that she was being soundly paddled.

  Her eyes grew wet as the sting bit through the rising heat on her bottom again and again. She strained against the restraints and squealed, “I’m sorry, please stop! I... didn’t... ow! Pl
ease! Please!”

  But the trainer ignored her protests and continued to paddle her rhythmically. There seemed to be no amount of pleading that could satisfy him.

  Now the paddle was truly beginning to hurt, and she started to squeal louder. How long would he spank her? Anasi had said she would not be hurt, but how long could he go on paddling her without breaking her skin? It was on fire, and now the paddling was actually too much to bear without shrieking.

  And then she remembered: she must submit.

  It was easier than she anticipated, letting her body relax as the paddling continued. Once she did, the slaps stung less, and though her eyes watered over, and her voice cracked, she managed to say:

  “Sir, I am sorry, sir. I will be obedient now.”

  As she panted the words, each one carved through her like a delicious lick of fire, even as the pang of humiliation and shame crushed her chest and lit her cheeks on fire.

  A final stroke set fire to her bottom, and then there were no more. She lay bent over the table, sniffling, as the hot bite of the paddle throbbed to a dull roar on her skin.

  “What do we say?” the trainer asked.

  She was talking over him before his sentence was complete, hurried, ready to please and obey if only it meant that her bottom was spared from further spankings. “Thank you, sir.”

  Her pussy throbbed, in spite of it all, and she felt a sticky wetness descending between her thighs when she stood upright shakily after the shackles released.

  “Now. Climb onto the table and we will proceed with your cleansing.”

  Chastened completely, with no strength to resist remaining inside of her, Lana climbed onto the table on all fours. The restraints locked her into place, the rods rose against her arms, and her collar clicked into place above her neck. Almost instinctively, she tilted her bottom upward, and dipped her belly.

  In quick succession, she felt the same procedure performed: the cool tip of metal against her bottom, the object sliding inside of her, a sharpness as it spread, and then the filling of warm liquid. All the while her bottom burned.

  The trainer inserted another metal object, and her cheeks burned with shame as he left her on the table, unable to move or even look around, on all fours with her bottom filled, as he attended to other trainees.

  Soreness set in slowly, and then crescendoed to a sharp ache on her knees and hands, but she was unable to shift her weight to relieve her discomfort. The sensation in her bottom would throb away and almost subside, until the sounds of other trainees in the room—moaning, gasping in pleasure, pleading, submitting to similar treatments—would ignite the throb of humiliation anew. The minutes dragged, but each new level of pain wore down her resistance and scratched at the itch of her arousal. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she wanted to wait until she could absolutely bear no more, almost as much as she wanted the relief of being released.

  When he returned, she closed her eyes and tried to fight the ache between her thighs, as she was emptied and cleaned with a cloth, and ordered to move to the next room. “I will meet you for anal training in one unit.”

  Anasi did not speak to her until they were out of the room and inside the bathing area, where he moved to a bath farthest from the doors of the cleaning area and stood by one, dipping his hand into the water. “I will make your bath cooler,” he told her, touching the wall. “Get in and I will bathe you.”

  Lana’s face felt hot with shame as she stepped into the shallow bathing pool and sat down. The water was a delightful temperature, and it felt good, but when her sore bottom touched it the heat made her buttocks throb.

  “Turn on your hands and knees,” Anasi said gently.

  Lana obeyed, remembering the scene she had seen the day before. She closed her eyes as Anasi applied water to her skin with a soft sponge. Trickles of water ran down her skin, caressing her body, dripping to her bare breasts and hardening her nipples as it dropped from them. When he rubbed the sponge gently on her bottom, her skin burned freshly, but she felt at the same time a wild excitement building inside of her. Anasi drew the sponge between her legs, making her shudder when it passed over her throbbing pussy.

  “Remember what I told you,” Anasi advised gently. “If you give in to your desire to submit, you will enjoy your training and even your discipline. You may even come to crave discipline as I do. You must understand that as an Atrix, your body will respond pleasurably to your new role.”

  Never, Lana thought bitterly, even though the water felt good, and her body was in fact humming with pleasure as he bathed her intimately, particularly when he reignited the burning on her bottom.

  Lana could feel her body responding pleasurably to her new ‘role’ even as her muscles went rigid, as she forced herself to remember her resolve.

  “I won’t be brainwashed like you,” Lana retorted, and though she meant for the statement to sound resolute, it came out shakily. Anasi smiled knowingly, and she was almost grateful that he did, because it reinvigorated her fury. How dare he? He thought he knew her? Well, he didn’t. None of them did, and she was not going to fall for any of this.

  No matter what was happening in her belly and between her thighs.

  “You are an Atrix,” Anasi said, a note of envy in his voice. “You are going to be delivered to the most genetically promising soldiers in the Realm. They are all perfect male specimens, and if you submit to your training, you will see that you can live a life of luxury and pleasure, with all of your needs taken care of. You will be treated like a queen—”

  “And bred like an animal,” Lana interjected, though her voice came out less bitter than she expected.

  The queer, infuriating, knowing smile appeared momentarily on Anasi’s lips. “Is that so bad?” he asked.

  Lana did not respond. Anasi finished her bath, and stood up to fetch her a towel—a richly luxurious, blanket-sized material that was clean and white, and soft to the touch.

  You will be treated like a queen...

  ...it did feel nice...

  and bred like an animal...

  She closed her eyes as she was toweled dry, trying desperately to summon her anger, her resolve to escape, her fury. Instead, she found her thoughts wandering to the words discipline, submission, breeding... and her inner thighs tightened as she tried to vanquish the ache of her pussy.

  How could she? This wasn’t her. She would not let herself submit. She would fight against it, and escape.

  The silk of the robes cascaded over her shoulders as Anasi dressed her.

  She opened her eyes.

  “Now where?” she asked defiantly.

  She would show them.

  Anasi, however, smiled his infuriating smile again, and indicated the door at the end of the bathing hall. “You trainer awaits you.”

  * * *

  Lana built up her resolve, shored up her plan, as she was escorted to the next room. She did it in order to distract herself from the appealing thoughts—thoughts she could only assume were the product of brainwashing—she was falling into.

  She would be obedient enough to fool them, and no more. She would do what they asked her to do, but she would take her mind somewhere else. She would stay focused on not enjoying her training, or thinking about any foolish, romanticized ideas of soldiers, breeding, or discipline. She would do only what was necessary to convince them that she was being compliant.

  She would keep her head.

  And then, when her chance came, she would escape.

  When her trainer asked her to disrobe, she did so, and when he instructed her to climb upon the table, she did so again. She was doing fine, concentrating on her escape plan, until she felt the cool wetness of the lubricated object against her bottom hole. She stared straight ahead, determined not to allow her body to give in to the sensation of pleasure, but as she felt her bottom being stretched, filling up with the cool metal that warmed slightly, her pussy began to get wet.

  From there, her thoughts snowballed; without knowing how she made
the leap she was remembering the feel of the commander’s firm hand on her bottom, picturing herself turned over his knee. Imagining the soldiers she would be sold to, their cocks inside of her, fleshy and hot instead of artificial.

  She snapped suddenly back to the present time and place, horrified that she was dripping wet. The trainer was making slow circles of pressure inside of her, pushing the object around in a clockwise motion, slowly probing her interior, and the ache moved like molten lava inside of her. Her pussy throbbed.

  “This plug will remain inside of you at all times. Each day we will increase the size, until you can accept the phallus of your mate. Be obedient, and do not remove the plug.”

  Lana, however, was thinking about how good it would feel if the plug were moved in and out, sliding inside of her, stroking her insides... she wanted to reach behind her and move it herself.

  And then she realized she could, later. Later when she was alone, she could do exactly that.

  Though she wanted desperately to resist, it was impossible for her to get the idea out of her mind. It was impossible to stop imagining it, how it would feel—how good it would feel, and how much she wanted to do it.

  It did not help that she was taken next to a room she did not remember passing through on her original tour.

  * * *

  She had no way of knowing, of course, that the commander was observing her training, and her responses to it, with great interest, and that she had been sent on this detour precisely because her biometric readings indicated that she was increasingly stimulated by her training. Which meant that Lana Scott, Atrix 12, could be fast-tracked through her training.

  Which was very good for the commander, because she had just been purchased by a Galleon prince, a humanoid cross-breed from nearby Galtor, whose fertile period of six solar months per system year began in three weeks, and who did not want to miss a single moment of his opportunities to breed with the virgin Atrix.

  It would take a great deal of discipline, the commander thought, to bring Atrix 12 under control within that time period. Especially since she appeared to be playing at the game of feigning acquiescence, in order to later attempt an escape of some kind.