MSTGMA
Executioner
A brief preamble:
I've been sort-of-working on this one for close to ten years at this point. It's still unfinished...I know exactly how it ends and have written out some parts of the ending but I need to rewrite a lot of REALLY terrible prose first to get to the point where I can do the ending properly. But the first 2/3 of it are more or less done and I've been editing them to get them ready for "publication", so I figured I might as well drop them here.
DISCLAIMER: This story is fantasy. Anybody who would even think about doing what these fictional characters do in real life belongs behind bars, in a padded cell, or failing that, a shallow grave.
It was...vexing. That was probably the best word to use. A step above merely "annoying", but not really a threat to the overall success of the operation. A hit to the bottom line, of course, but they'd made sure to account for damages when they'd made their budget. They still stood to make a killing off this trip, especially if that "specialty buyer" turned out to be true to his word. Still, a waste.
Captain Vorden sighed. A waste of money and good pussy.
They'd set up camp three months ago, and it was just about time to pack up and leave. If the bitches had stayed put a few more days they'd have been aboard the transport where even the most brainless primitive would realize that escape attempts were utter lunacy. But no, some idiot had bragged to them that they'd be heading offworld soon (he'd already spent a somewhat cathartic thirty minutes yelling at the idiot in question), and the little redhead who'd been the ringleader of the whole mess had been too damned clever for her own good. She'd put two and two together and made her move. Five bitches had almost made it to the outer perimeter before they were caught again.
And that was the problem. Their security was good, but it wasn't airtight. Their whole operation relied on fear to keep the merchandise in line. On the threat of their "sorcery" -there he allowed himself a brief chuckle at the expense of the superstitious primitives- and the very clear warnings about what would happen to anybody who tried to escape. By making the threats very threatening, they'd hoped to avoid having to damage the goods at all. Well, beyond what unavoidable damages they'd suffer during what his second-in-command Cal jokingly referred to as "Orientation".
In any case, they didn't actually want to follow through on the threats, because each primitive they made an example of was another slave they wouldn't be able to sell. But now they had to, or the threat would be seen as empty and a largely manageable cargo would turn into a godawful mess. With that in mind, he figured that they'd have to make it good. A proper spectacle, something that'd stick with the bitches. He made his decision, and pushed the button on his desk's intercom terminal to summon Cal to his makeshift office.
Calpurnia Wellesley-Yang was a short, somewhat stocky woman with a cheerful grin constantly plastered across an open, friendly face framed by a haircut that would have been considered unbearably plain in the aristocratic circles of her upbringing. She wore comfortable, no-nonsense overalls and her only concession to security was a stunner holstered on her belt. No showy bullshit, none of the oversized weapons all too many of his crew liked to wave around. Which made her latest "fashion accessory" more than a little incongruous.
The bound, gagged and naked slave who came in with her had that look of absolute terror on her face that was so very, very familiar to anybody who spent any time with Cal. "A new pet?", he inquired, "or one of your little side projects?"
"A bit of both," Calpurnia said with a grin. "I'm trying out something new with her, and she's shaping up very nicely." She pushed a button on the remote in her hand and the slave started writhing in obvious pain and screaming into her gag.
"That's a DTS microactuator from one of the perimeter drones applied to her fun bits", she said pointing to a small object held in place by tape. "Works almost as well as a control implant. It's just the right shape that it'll hit the clit and g-spot at the same time if you insert it right."
He stood up to take a closer look. The slave had dropped to the floor, twitching in agony and unable to reach the device tormenting her with her arms bound securely behind her back. Her eyes had rolled up into her head and foam had started to appear around the gag. Cal had started using those ever since one of her "experiments" had bitten off her own tongue.
"Wait a moment," Cal said, pushing the button again. "There, we don't want to drain the battery too quickly, do we?" The slave went limp, breathing heavily.
"That'd be a drawback", he said. "An implant will last for hours at a time. And it doesn't...obstruct access as much," he said as he examined the device more closely. A simple piece of electronics, held in place by tape. Simple and cheap, but the sharp edges made taking advantage of her twitching cunt a rather dicey proposition. Of course, from Cal's perspective the pointy bits were probably another bonus.
"Yeah, plus I haven't been able to give it a 'reward' setting, so I'm having to do that..." she grinned evilly "manually, if and when she deserves it. Right now, she doesn't. Tried to talk back earlier.
Still, you can get a hundred of these for the price of one implant and you don't need a nanodoc to put it in. It's like I always say, can't go wrong with low-tech."
He noticed that the slave had another low-tech "modification" of Cal's design: A length of synthsilk string connected the slave's nipples, held in place by...
"Fishhooks again, Cal?" He grinned and gave the thread an experimental tug, eliciting another brief scream from his victim.
"What can I say, I love those things. But I'm pretty sure you didn't call me just for smalltalk, boss?"
"You're right", he said, moving back behind his desk. "It's about those runners."
"Figured as much. Bit of a waste, isn't it?"
He nodded. "And I'd very much like to avoid any further waste of our merchandise. Which means we'll have to make this good. Visible deterrent, as harsh as we can make it."
"And you immediately thought of me?" she said with another grin. "How sweet!
All kidding aside, boss...I've been giving it some thought myself, and I think I've got something that'll work. You'll love it. The whole crew will love it. And the cunts? The next time one of 'em starts talking of escape, the rest of them will sort her out for us.
See, I figure we can go really low-tech for this one..."
The slave, still lying on the floor, had only learned a few words of the language her captors used so she didn't follow what her mistress said next, but the star-demons' laughter was enough to add an extra dimension of terror to her own personal hell.
I've been sort-of-working on this one for close to ten years at this point. It's still unfinished...I know exactly how it ends and have written out some parts of the ending but I need to rewrite a lot of REALLY terrible prose first to get to the point where I can do the ending properly. But the first 2/3 of it are more or less done and I've been editing them to get them ready for "publication", so I figured I might as well drop them here.
DISCLAIMER: This story is fantasy. Anybody who would even think about doing what these fictional characters do in real life belongs behind bars, in a padded cell, or failing that, a shallow grave.
Part I
Chapter I: Vexations
Chapter I: Vexations
It was...vexing. That was probably the best word to use. A step above merely "annoying", but not really a threat to the overall success of the operation. A hit to the bottom line, of course, but they'd made sure to account for damages when they'd made their budget. They still stood to make a killing off this trip, especially if that "specialty buyer" turned out to be true to his word. Still, a waste.
Captain Vorden sighed. A waste of money and good pussy.
They'd set up camp three months ago, and it was just about time to pack up and leave. If the bitches had stayed put a few more days they'd have been aboard the transport where even the most brainless primitive would realize that escape attempts were utter lunacy. But no, some idiot had bragged to them that they'd be heading offworld soon (he'd already spent a somewhat cathartic thirty minutes yelling at the idiot in question), and the little redhead who'd been the ringleader of the whole mess had been too damned clever for her own good. She'd put two and two together and made her move. Five bitches had almost made it to the outer perimeter before they were caught again.
And that was the problem. Their security was good, but it wasn't airtight. Their whole operation relied on fear to keep the merchandise in line. On the threat of their "sorcery" -there he allowed himself a brief chuckle at the expense of the superstitious primitives- and the very clear warnings about what would happen to anybody who tried to escape. By making the threats very threatening, they'd hoped to avoid having to damage the goods at all. Well, beyond what unavoidable damages they'd suffer during what his second-in-command Cal jokingly referred to as "Orientation".
In any case, they didn't actually want to follow through on the threats, because each primitive they made an example of was another slave they wouldn't be able to sell. But now they had to, or the threat would be seen as empty and a largely manageable cargo would turn into a godawful mess. With that in mind, he figured that they'd have to make it good. A proper spectacle, something that'd stick with the bitches. He made his decision, and pushed the button on his desk's intercom terminal to summon Cal to his makeshift office.
Calpurnia Wellesley-Yang was a short, somewhat stocky woman with a cheerful grin constantly plastered across an open, friendly face framed by a haircut that would have been considered unbearably plain in the aristocratic circles of her upbringing. She wore comfortable, no-nonsense overalls and her only concession to security was a stunner holstered on her belt. No showy bullshit, none of the oversized weapons all too many of his crew liked to wave around. Which made her latest "fashion accessory" more than a little incongruous.
The bound, gagged and naked slave who came in with her had that look of absolute terror on her face that was so very, very familiar to anybody who spent any time with Cal. "A new pet?", he inquired, "or one of your little side projects?"
"A bit of both," Calpurnia said with a grin. "I'm trying out something new with her, and she's shaping up very nicely." She pushed a button on the remote in her hand and the slave started writhing in obvious pain and screaming into her gag.
"That's a DTS microactuator from one of the perimeter drones applied to her fun bits", she said pointing to a small object held in place by tape. "Works almost as well as a control implant. It's just the right shape that it'll hit the clit and g-spot at the same time if you insert it right."
He stood up to take a closer look. The slave had dropped to the floor, twitching in agony and unable to reach the device tormenting her with her arms bound securely behind her back. Her eyes had rolled up into her head and foam had started to appear around the gag. Cal had started using those ever since one of her "experiments" had bitten off her own tongue.
"Wait a moment," Cal said, pushing the button again. "There, we don't want to drain the battery too quickly, do we?" The slave went limp, breathing heavily.
"That'd be a drawback", he said. "An implant will last for hours at a time. And it doesn't...obstruct access as much," he said as he examined the device more closely. A simple piece of electronics, held in place by tape. Simple and cheap, but the sharp edges made taking advantage of her twitching cunt a rather dicey proposition. Of course, from Cal's perspective the pointy bits were probably another bonus.
"Yeah, plus I haven't been able to give it a 'reward' setting, so I'm having to do that..." she grinned evilly "manually, if and when she deserves it. Right now, she doesn't. Tried to talk back earlier.
Still, you can get a hundred of these for the price of one implant and you don't need a nanodoc to put it in. It's like I always say, can't go wrong with low-tech."
He noticed that the slave had another low-tech "modification" of Cal's design: A length of synthsilk string connected the slave's nipples, held in place by...
"Fishhooks again, Cal?" He grinned and gave the thread an experimental tug, eliciting another brief scream from his victim.
"What can I say, I love those things. But I'm pretty sure you didn't call me just for smalltalk, boss?"
"You're right", he said, moving back behind his desk. "It's about those runners."
"Figured as much. Bit of a waste, isn't it?"
He nodded. "And I'd very much like to avoid any further waste of our merchandise. Which means we'll have to make this good. Visible deterrent, as harsh as we can make it."
"And you immediately thought of me?" she said with another grin. "How sweet!
All kidding aside, boss...I've been giving it some thought myself, and I think I've got something that'll work. You'll love it. The whole crew will love it. And the cunts? The next time one of 'em starts talking of escape, the rest of them will sort her out for us.
See, I figure we can go really low-tech for this one..."
The slave, still lying on the floor, had only learned a few words of the language her captors used so she didn't follow what her mistress said next, but the star-demons' laughter was enough to add an extra dimension of terror to her own personal hell.