Complacency was her weapon now. All she had to do was sit and watch this small band mount their attack. If they succeeded, she was saved. But could she let her Mistress perish? She loved the woman more than she dared let herself realize. What should she do?
The speedy stutter of an assault rifle punished the air. The shrill snarl wrought by the stream of fire gave her a fraction of a second to act. With a desperate instinctive spasm she cast herself aside as the lethal burst drilled into her with tusks of fire, the stern impacts thudding into her armored shoulder and unprotected trailing arm, their velocity yanking her around and robbing her of balance as the tree bark opened with ragged blooms. Her feet faltered on the branch and she toppled from her vantage point.
Kirsten could not move during the brief caress of freefall, her body riven with a tightening hold that seemed to screw up her nervous system, wringing it in a ruthless fist and depriving her of action. The callous landing ripped the air from her lungs and left her on the verge of blackout.
Fighting for awareness, she pawed weakly at the ground, the leaves and soil parting upon her claws as she made useless attempts to achieve some measure of movement.
“What the hell is it?” inquired the woman, standing over her, the hollow interiors of half a dozen muzzles staring at Kirsten with dark eyes.
The initial effects of the wounds were fading, her senses washing back in sterner waves and though she was currently crippled with pain, she feigned an inert state while gathering as much effort as she could, forsaking the restoration of her chameleonic skin. She had already let it fall once through mental distraction and now that she was wounded the effort of concentration was even harder to attain.
“Kill it now!” hissed Gary, edging forward to prod her with the tip of a looted OICW, the laser spot marking her chest.
“Not yet. First we find out more about it,” Steven declared, brushing Gary aside and crouching before her face for a closer examination. Looking over the collar, he tried to remove it.
“It’s some sort of hood and collar thing,” he said.
“Well get it off,” uttered Gary in harsh tones.
“What the fuck do you think I’m doing? It’s sealed tight. Hold this, I need to get some leverage,” he replied, handing over his rifle.
“NO!” shrieked Kirsten, instantly being galvanized into activity, knowing that if he tried to remove the collar that in all likelihood it would detonate. The man’s hands were reaching for her throat as she jerked upright, delivering her brow to his nose with a harsh crack.
The mutant was cast back by the velocity of the cruel impact and before the others could respond she was already in full motion.
Flipping to her feet with a bestial scream that was forged from effort and the pain in her injuries, the ground she had vacated degenerated into a realm of tiny geysers of dirt as bullets rained freely into it. She had a split second to act before they jerked their aim back onto her.
Whirling, she threw her armored calf into the woman, assuming her to be the most dangerous opponent. The metal plate struck the target’s temple with a loud clap, jerking her head back and dropping the woman onto her rump. The woman’s flesh was unnaturally tough, the pernicious kick being little more than a phasing attack.
One of the many hands jolted up and snagged Kirsten’s ankle while it was still in the air and held it to deny a return to the ground as another limb swept out and slapped Kirsten’s other leg from under her. Still weak from her wounds she dropped heavily and struck the floor, croaking as the bullet wounds seemed to leap up in intensity from the savagery of her fall.
Rolling, Kirsten twisted the snaring hand until it was forced to let go or snap and once freed she tumbled up into a crouch and lashed out at the massive giant reaching out to entwine her in a snare of brawny arms. The artificial talons racked across his chest, tearing through the fabrics and unzipping his skin in four long trenches. He spasmed with a deep booming bellow, his motion faltering and allowing her to sweep a knee into his groin, doubling him up with a cry before jerking an elbow into his temple with all her flagging strength.
The stunning blow felled him instantly, the titanic frame dropping as a slack heap that sent a shudder through the soil.
The slender man suddenly stopped yelling for the others to get out of the way to give him a clear shot, their defeat granting him his wish. He opened fire the moment his giant comrade left his scope.
With a leaping spring she catapulted herself into a low dive as the rifle chuckled with sharp peels of snarling blasts. Twin furrows ran her back as bullets skimmed her flesh, her duck carrying her below the lethal stream and into a speedy roll that ended beneath the man’s extended weapon.
Adding the impetus of her tumble to a low punch she sank it into his belly, folding him at the middle with an extreme spasm. His head dropped down into the back of her skull as she launched upright with a hiss of strain. Kirsten’s crown flashed with the stern connection and she straightened to see him drop from the air and collapse into a quiescent mound.
The full sole of a booted foot lanced into the middle of her back, carrying her from her feet and throwing her into a tree trunk where her front bore the hug of the tree with poisonous temperament.
The sudden wash of added mayhem from her bullet wounds almost had her pass out. With her sight flickering from her traumatized condition and impossible exertions she wavered unsteadily, her legs wilting beneath her. In the background she heard the giant pushing himself back onto his feet as he shook off her knockout blow.
Four fiery lines of pain were drawn down her back from shoulder to opposite hip, the sudden tearing woe restoring her vitality in a sudden flash as the man employed his claws with sanguine intent.
Rotating at her hips, Kirsten swung a weak slash at face height, the whirling talons meeting only empty air as he ducked the enfeebled strike and responded with a brutal upper cut that caught her jawline and slammed her back against the tree.
Snatching her flailing arm he cast her away, tugging her from the trunk and sending her careering wildly across the small clearing and into the pile-driving fist of the giant who currently awaited her arrival on the other side.
A flash of brilliance banished the haze of her torpor and her passage was reversed, his blow countering her momentum and throwing her back to land on her shoulders with her legs over her head. Riding the impetus of the punch she skidded to a halt, etching a long furrow in the soil.
Hanging in this undignified pose for a moment she then dropped onto her side, the punch collaborating with her injuries to rob her of consciousness.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jessica took two lengths of cord and formed a lasso at each end before tightening them about Maria’s thighs with truculent savagery.
Pushing the slave’s rear against the wall she bent her over at the middle and then turned herself around. Placing her latex-sheathed buttocks between Maria’s shoulder blades she pushed back, further doubling her up until she could be crushed no smaller. The captive mutant groaned at the force of the compression but no plea for clemency could penetrate the gag that so completely filled her mouth. The leather straps had again forced a swollen rubber balloon into her maw that swelled her cheeks and stifled her responses.
Jessica took the two laces and tied them tightly to the front of her high leather collar. When she moved away, Maria instinctively tried to rise and found that any attempt to do so was not only impossible but caused the cord about her thighs to bite into the flesh and tighten.
Taking a fresh length of cord at its center Jessica looped it around the base of the captive’s breasts and crisscrossed the lengths tightly upwards. She mercilessly constricted them within this dense weave until she could tie a loop about the nipple and then once more lace back down to securely knot the twine around the base of her assets.
Grabbing Maria’s wrists she padlocked cuffs about them and threaded a cord separately through each. Drawing them behind her back, she hauled the bound hands up th
e captive’s spine until they were held painfully high, whereupon she proceeded to toss the cord of her left hand over her right shoulder and then the right cord over her left shoulder.
Taking firm hold of these dangling laces she tightened the bonds around her engorged breasts, affixing them via the dangling loop upon the end of her strangled assets.
Taking up the slack and mercilessly tying them there, it was painfully illustrated to the slave that any attempt to draw her hands down from their aching position now visited scathing suffering upon her tormented teats. The final aspect to her distress was installed when knee high ballet boots were slotted on and laced tight before their rows of buckles were set across them, leaving her perched on tiptoe.
Shuffling the wretch so that she was close at hand, Jessica informed her slave that should her legs wilt then she would be beaten.
Sitting back upon one of the restraint-armed chairs she relaxed and watched the slave, paying close scrutiny to her pains with absorbed attention. Her stomach was fluttering, her mind charged with angst, a sense of worry that she could not control, only try and evade through the arbitrary torture of this latest ‘recruit’.
The position of her primary Hound had not changed for a prolonged period and no attempt to contact her on her radio had gained response. Unwilling to activate the implants in case she was maintaining a watch, the soldiers had been sent in only to find the broken and defused collar deserted and forsaken in the bushes amidst blood traces. A quick DNA scan divulged it as mutant in origin and while some of it was from mutants whose records allocated them as escapees from a Sanctuary camp, much of the spilt vitality was from her slave.
If the mutant band thought they had rescued this hapless kindred being from the talons of the KGP they had a significant shock in store for them. They had captured a veritable murder specialist, and the moment Kirsten had opportunity they would be killed for their mistake.
Her programming was not to be easily overcome and the promise of freedom would not dislodge the deep-rooted barbs of sexual slavery.
Jessica was trying to herd herself into detached professional attitudes towards the Hound, but every time she pictured Kirsten, hurt, bleeding, in danger, in the hands of mutant renegades, she felt icy pangs of terror creep through her. She couldn’t afford to let herself love this creature. Kirsten was a prisoner, a thing to be used and expendable if necessary. But she couldn’t shed the absolute sense of calamity as to Kirsten’s current fate. She prayed that Kirsten was okay, that she be able to extract herself from any jeopardy and return to her. Jessica had wanted to call in every favor she had earned in her KGP career to try and increase the search for her beloved pet, but such intervention might result in the band hastily executing her pet.
In the mean time she had to be patient and rather than wait vainly in the forests and have her abnormally intense concerns noticed by others she had returned to the training ground. She had then fished her latest subject out of the maze in which she had been loosed and condemned.
By intensifying the training of the girl, perhaps she could turn her mind from dwelling on Kirsten. But the sight of the girl, wriggling in her bondage only reminded her of Kirsten’s luscious image in similar straits, her adoring eyes looking up at her, filling her with awe and pride that such a pernicious creature had relinquished control to her so unreservedly. No Hound had ever surrendered so quickly and completely. Kirsten was obviously besotted with her and that knowledge had melted Jessica and kindled a similar affection that had blossomed without her realizing into a bizarre love.
The new slave had fared well within the training labyrinth and had suffered no lingering physical harm, though the damage to her humanity would not be so trivial.
Contorted and demeaned, Maria could not fight the havoc the Mistress had caused and against her best efforts her legs did indeed sag upon occasion. It was a failing that caused the tyrant to take up a strap and slash it into her buttocks, applauding the loss of stance with stinging claps until she was upright again, whereupon the addition of three more vigorous smacks were applied for the act of disobedience. The slave had to keep absolutely still as she gurgled into her gag, trying to endure without complaint or flight.
After only a few chapters of this assault she was swaying unsteadily, so rather than concern herself with the constant chastisement of her possession, Jessica grabbed the cord that was charged with connecting the prisoner’s breasts and with it led her to the corner.
Taking up two short poles, Jessica placed them along the backs of the girl’s legs, centering them on the knees. Using the rubber straps that were riveted to the shafts she bound them at mid-calf to mid-thigh, keeping them in one place and stopping the slave from lowering from the stooped stance.
Putting the slave’s head into the corner she grabbed a length of cord and a dildo. The sex toy was smooth for the first two inches and was then armed with dull studs that ran in circles that grew longer and sharper as they rolled towards the base. Tying the center of the cord to the base of the phallus, she applied the other ends to wall rings on either side of the slave. Pushing the smoothed tip of the toy into the presented sex of the girl, the Mistress inserted it until the first studs were touching her lips and then stole all slack before tying the cord off. The strands now kept the toy sheathed within her, stopping her from ejecting it, but should she try and move out of the corner she would back herself onto the loitering shaft, earning herself more distress the further back she tried to go.
Maria tried to slip free with distraught struggles but any movement was either blocked or administered added pain to another body part. Trapped, she sobbed into her gag, her misery hidden in the corner.
The Mistress rubbed her eyes, set aside the strap and arose, stretching her stiff limbs from her long vigil. It had been a long day and she was in need of sleep, food, and a long relaxing bath to try and ease her concerns a little.
Taking up a thonged leather cat she whipped the prisoner’s back and buttocks with alacrity, leaving an aching reminder of her power. She then deserted the slave to darkness and pained, demeaned isolation, where any movement to lessen the pain ruthlessly accentuated it upon another zone of her frame.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Held in bondage, Maria’s frame grew ever more sensitive as it filled with the potency of her discomfort. Cramp and strain took a heavy toll on her sanity as she tried desperately to keep herself calm. The hours wandered without true count or even estimation and the only thing she could accurately gauge was that she could not endure another second of the ordeal. Yet it always went on without foreseeable end.
The Mistress returned a few hours later, still beset by the saturnine temperament that had made her more cold and callous than usual. Clad in a full latex catsuit with close-fitting thigh boots laid atop the burnished impermeable skin. Without word she began to don a strap on phallus, the toy embellished with a smaller internal projection that the woman guided into herself through a zipped aperture at her loins. After lubricating the fearsome weapon she removed the previous phallus from Maria and placed the cold bulbous tip to Maria’s anus.
Resting it threateningly there for a moment she took hold of the offered hips and thrust. The device bored into Maria and she spasmed from the shock, wriggling her fingers frantically, unable to do anything else as muted howls of ravished anguish seeped through the gag.
The internal protrusion on the opposite side was clearly giving the Mistress pleasure from the slave’s pain and she plunged the phallus from tip to root, driving deep and with increasing harshness. Maria’s ballet booted legs trembled but were denied any opportunity to wilt because of the poles that were still affixed across her joints like splints. The coarse nature of the ravishment corrupted the strange debauched pleasure she drew from being so acutely filled in the rear, the Mistress gaining far more delight from the affair.
To Maria it seemed hours before the woman tightened her hold and lost the steady rhythm of her drives as she gasped and let her head loll b
ack. Finally satisfied the woman withdrew the instrument of Maria’s debasement. The piercing thrusts of the dildo had left her anus burning, while to her molester the amusement was all too brief.
The Mistress unfastened Maria’s bonds and she collapsed like a rag doll, her body wracked by fierce riots of pins and needles, her muscles aching terribly, her anus fervid and chafed from the sadistic defilement.
“You will lick my boots clean, slave. And as you do it, you may pleasure yourself,” she announced, unfastening the gag and drawing it from Maria’s parched lips. The bulbous balloon stretched her jaws wide and popped free the Mistress declining to deflate it.
Maria lolled towards the woman after the command and fought to shift her stolid limbs, finding the simple task a monumental effort.
Without pause for thought she began to run her tongue lovingly across the patent leather, lingering upon the stiletto heel as she caressed herself, exacting her own mild and ashamed pleasure. As intended, her indoctrinated synapses were beginning to associate the pleasure as something to be felt when fawning at her superior’s feet.
The process of her enslavement was accelerating rapidly. Maria was starting to find enjoyment in her subjugation, in being owned and controlled, protected and adored by the sadistic attentions of this vicious goddess. The notion of escape and freedom were becoming more hazy and distant, the words losing all meaning to her as algolagnic relish took over and ruled her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The icy kiss of cold water slapped Kirsten awake, the freezing fluid startling her bare face and jolting her into a tensed pose, only to be suddenly curtailed by the stout chains that encased her body.
Opening her eyes she saw through blearing gaze that she was held within a mesh of links that wound around her. She was laid upright against a rough stonewall. Her torso was propped up and unattached to it, leaving her able to move like a chained worm. Looking about, she assessed the cavern. It was low ceilinged and extended into darkness in either direction, the jagged walls obviously hewn by man. A portable neon strip light hurled an anemic glow about the scene, bleaching the white chalk walls and the faces of her opponents.
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