Maggie felt ill. “Please,” she whispered. “I can’t…this can’t be right. I’m not supposed to be here. This can’t be happening to me.”
“Well, it is,” Sura said shortly. “Sorry to be the one to give you the bad news but I figured you’d rather know than find out on your own when the button really gets going. Look, maybe you’ll get lucky and find a master who wants to take you every day.”
“Seriously? That would make me lucky?” Maggie’s head swam. Having a master who wanted to rape her daily would be a fortunate turn of events?
“Luckiest thing for a girl with an implant like that.” Sura yawned. “Look, just keep it covered, all right? I need my sleep. Have to look my best tomorrow if I’m going to get a halfway decent master. Don't want some buster who hit it rich with a lucky lotto tix and wants to try the high life with his very own love slave.”
“But I—”
“Good night,” Sura said firmly.
There were restless shifting sounds from the other corner and then the sound of soft, steady breathing. Apparently her fellow slave-in-waiting had gone to sleep.
Maggie wanted to ask her more, wanted to wake her up and demand more answers to the awful questions that were crowding her brain. But her tongue seemed as numb and frozen as the area below her naval.
What was she going to do?
Chapter Twenty-one
Early the next morning Maggie and her fellow slaves—it turned out there were more than a dozen—were washed and dressed and herded through a long narrow corridor into a vast room the size of a football stadium. It had a high, vaulted ceiling and was filled with…well, Maggie didn’t know what it was filled with because all she could see were colorful blurs.
From the sounds she heard it seemed to be some kind of a marketplace. Vendors called from every corner, trying to attract the attention of buyers.
“Fresh meat! Slaves so fresh they’ve never felt the touch of a master’s hand before.”
“Lovely little virgins! Just captured the lot of them on Caprika Three. Every one untouched!”
“Proper, obedient females, ready and willing to cater to your every whim.” That voice seemed to come from the thin green alien Lady Pope’nose had called Zamir. Maggie shivered as she heard him shout, advertising her and the rest of the women in her group as though they were so many cuts of meat.
And a cut of fresh meat was exactly what she felt like. She was wearing nothing more than a thin ribbon around her breasts—a bright red band that barely covered her nipples and left the rest of her bare. Lower down she had a tiny red skirt which didn’t even come down to her thighs. The skirt covered her pussy—barely—which was a good thing since she had no panties on. Her midsection was also naked, showing off the blinking red ruby firmly lodged in her naval.
As if her outfit—or lack thereof—wasn’t bad enough, she was also positioned for display. Her arms were stretched above her head, chained in place to keep her exposed and her thighs were spread wide, allowing anyone who wanted to come by and flip up her skirt to “check out the wares.”
The pedestal she’d been forced to kneel on was white stone with a thin red pad that barely cushioned her bare knees. Maggie shifted restlessly, trying to ease the pressure but if she moved too much or failed to keep her legs open, Zamir shocked her with the little wand he’d used to activate her “slut button.”
The wand seemed to act as a kind of taser. It made her gasp with pain but the pain was an almost welcome relief from the unquenchable desire throbbing between her legs.
The sexual need had begun when she woke up from a broken sleep that morning and had been slowly growing throughout the day. It seemed to have a correlation with the ruby implant, which was blinking faster and faster. And with each blink came a pulse of pleasure, buzzing through her clit, making her helplessly hot and wet.
Maggie never would have believed that too much pleasure could be a bad thing but she was rapidly finding out that having constant stimulation without gratification was the worst kind of torture. With each little jolt, her nipples got harder and her pussy got wetter but no matter how hot she got, she wasn’t able to reach any kind of orgasm. It was torture.
Not that she wanted to orgasm in a room full of strangers, Maggie told herself. Not at first, anyway. But after a couple of hours of the slut button working on her, she thought she would have done anything for some relief. If her hands hadn’t been chained above her head, she would have been groping between her thighs, just like the woman Sura had described. It wouldn’t have done her any good though—no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t feel her own touch from her lower pelvis to her upper thighs.
The jewel in her belly button blinked again and another jolt of pleasure raced through her quivering pussy. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and held back a whimper of pure distress. God, would this ever end? Or would she be doomed to live the rest of her life in unfulfilled desire so intense it made her ache inside and out?
“Now here’s a nice specimen,” Zamir’s voice said to her right. “Very fresh—just plucked this little flower on Yonnie Six, though I understand that’s not her planet of origin.”
Maggie set her jaw and got ready to endure the coming inspection. After being here for several hours, she already knew the drill. The customer would want to examine her—her teeth, her breasts—and probably flip up her skirt to see her crotch as well. Luckily for her, Zamir usually kept the contact to a minimum—he said he was trying to keep his merchandize “fresh”—but it was still humiliating to be looked over like a prize pony someone was looking to buy.
“Interesting.” The prospective buyer was huge but that was about all Maggie could tell about him. He seemed to be draped all in black including his face—was he wearing a mask? It seemed that he must be because his deep voice was oddly distorted. “Where does she come from?” he asked.
Zamir shrugged. “A small blue and green planet on the far arm of a nearby spiral galaxy. I think her people call it ‘Earth.’”
A large hand encased in a black leather glove lifted Maggie’s chin.
“And is she eager to please? I won’t have a frigid bed slave.”
“More than eager, good sir! May I draw your attention to her midsection—observe the implant you can see there.”
“Implant? What the hell is that?” the man demanded.
“It’s a Denari Eroticus—top of the line, I assure you. This one was grown with great care for six solar months until it was ripe enough to be activated. The activation occurred only last week and the subject has been in stasis again until last night. So you’d be the first male to have the full benefit of its…ah influence.”
“What the hell?” the man muttered. “Does it come out?”
“Never,” Zamir assured him. “This species is bred and engineered on the Dragon’s Mouth in the Maw Cluster and it’s quite permanent—it will live as long as its host unless removed by its maker.”
“Damn,” the man muttered. “Of all the fucking—”
“Excuse me? Is there a problem?” Zamir sounded offended. “Most of my customers like the idea of an implant. It makes a slave so much more eager to please.”
“I’m sure it fucking does,” the man said harshly. But though his voice was rough, his hand was gentle. The black leather glove slid around to cup Maggie’s cheek and then moved lower, tracing the curve of her neck and her collar bone.
Maggie shivered as the large gloved hand moved even lower, cupping the curve of her right breast and thumbing the nipple lightly through the thin scarlet ribbon she wore.
“My apologies, good sir,” Zamir said smoothly. “But I must ask you not to over handle the merchandise. She must be kept fresh if she’s to be sold.”
“You don’t need to worry about that—I’ll buy her,” the man said. “I just want to know how responsive she is…how this damn implant thing you’ve got in her is affecting her.”
He stroked her nipple again and then pinched it lightly, sending sparks of pain and p
leasure through her over-stimulated system. Maggie bit her lip, trying desperately to stifle a cry. God, it was humiliating that a total stranger could get this response from her so easily. She was sure it was because of the slut button implant—it seemed to blink even faster when the man touched her, making her completely unable to help her reaction to him.
And yet, though she hated her response to him, the way he was touching her seemed to help. It fed the cravings that had been steadily growing inside her all morning, since she’d woken up with the ruby implant blinking steadily. Maggie bit her lip and pressed her breast against his hand, mutely begging for more.
“Poor little female,” the man growled softly. “Is it hurting you, this damn thing they put in you? Is it giving you needs too great to bear?”
“That is the idea of the implant, sir,” Zamir cut in. “It stimulates the subject until her need is so great she feels actual physical pain. She will do anything to slake the lust and every touch you give her eases the burden just a little. Her lust also eases every time you allow her to touch you so if you’re a male who enjoys frequent oral stimulation…”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” the man snapped at Zamir. “And any male who puts a fucking implant in his woman to make her give him Goddess damned blow jobs all day long—”
He didn’t finish because Maggie couldn’t help moaning again. The feel of his big, gloved hand against her breast was good but the need was still burning inside her. The ruby was still pulsing, sending waves of desire to her pussy which was swollen and hot between her thighs.
“Poor little female,” the man growled again. His large, gloved hand traveled lower and Maggie felt a mixture of shame and lust as he flipped up her skirt. “So damn wet,” she heard him mutter.
She wanted to cry with embarrassment but she somehow managed to keep her mouth shut and her chin high. It’s not my fault, she told herself. It’s this damn implant. I would never be in this…this state otherwise.
But it was hard not to feel ashamed at the wash of pleasure she felt when the man cupped her pussy. Maggie could feel the heat of his palm, even through the black leather glove. She tried her best not to react but she couldn’t help it—she could feel his hand! After not feeling her own fingers when she had tried to touch herself, it seemed like magic. Her body was crying out that this was exactly what she needed.
With a low moan, she thrust against his hand, rubbing hard against his palm, seeking some relief from the constant cycle of unrelenting desire and unfulfilled pleasure.
The man in black uttered a hoarse curse as she rubbed against him but he didn’t pull away. Instead he stepped closer, until the black cloak he wore shielded her from view, enclosing them both in a small, private space that seemed to shut out the rest of the busy marketplace.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he murmured in a low voice for Maggie’s ears alone. “Don’t be ashamed—take what you need.”
He slipped two fingers between her pussy lips and bracketed her swollen clit. Then he simply cupped her firmly and held still, letting Maggie rub against his hand, giving her the stimulation she so desperately needed.
Maggie closed her eyes as she worked her hips, finding a rhythm that would finally bring her to completion. She was filled with shame and yet unable to help her response. It occurred to her, dimly, that the man was helping her—that he was giving her a way to reach a climax with as much privacy as was possible in this noisy, crowded place. But she was too filled with shame and desire to have much room left over for gratitude.
At last, Maggie felt herself tipping over the edge. The man stood there, his hand between her legs, watching silently as her orgasm whipped through her. It was a sudden, violent event that nearly made her scream with its intensity. Maggie bit her lip but she couldn’t hold back a cry of unwilling pleasure—it was too much to keep inside. Too much to bear without making a sound.
But though the orgasm was good, it wasn’t enough. Maggie moaned in frustration as the implant pulsed inside her, demanding something more…something deeper.
The man seemed to understand how she was feeling.
“Not enough, is it?” he murmured, looking down at her. “What more do you need?”
Maggie couldn’t answer—her shame was too deep. But she could hear Zamir talking from behind the man’s broad back.
“The longer the subject is left without relief, the greater the effort required to slake her need. I’ve had her chained here for hours, letting the implant build its cycle. Stimulation without penetration will only prolong her suffering.”
“Get back,” the man snarled at him. “You’ll get your credit in a minute but leave me in peace for now.”
“My apologies, sir.” Zamir’s voice became fainter and Maggie sensed they were alone again.
“It’s all right,” the man told her. “He’s gone. It’s just us. What do you need, sweetheart? Need me to go deeper?” Two long leather clad fingers slid to the entrance of her pussy and pressed gently upward to convey his meaning.
Maggie wished with all hear heart she could say no, that she could refuse what he was offering her. But she couldn’t—her body wouldn’t let her. She needed to be filled, even if it was only by his fingers.
“Yes,” she whispered, looking away even though his masked face was just a blur. “Yes, I…please, yes.”
“All right. Don’t be ashamed.” The long fingers slid smoothly into her, stretching her a little with their thickness. He still wore the glove and Maggie could feel the coolness of the leather entering her heated cunt. She cried out when he found the end of her channel, penetrating her completely. God it was exactly what she needed—it felt so good she was nearly panting with desire.
“Please,” she whispered again. “Please…”
“Please what? Do you want me to do this?” His voice was low and rough as he thrust up into her, fingerfucking her hungry cunt, giving her what she’d been needing for hours.
Maggie moaned with abandon and worked herself against his fingers. His deep, steady penetration and the friction of his palm against her sensitive clit were exactly what her body was desperate for. She could feel the pleasure rising in her again and for a moment, she was able to forget her shame and just be—just feel as another strong orgasm washed over her.
“That’s right,” the man in black murmured. “Let it go, sweetheart. Let it all go and just come for me. Gods, I can feel your sweet little cunt squeezing my fingers. Wish I wasn’t wearing these damn gloves.”
Maggie could feel it too. Her inner muscles were working hard, contracting as though she was trying to pull him deeper into her. As though her body was seeking something else—something more. But what? Maggie wasn't sure and she couldn't think anymore—she lost herself in the pleasure.
At last it was over. To her relief, the cycle the ruby implant had started in her seemed to be fulfilled. The constant desire that had been tormenting her all day was quieted—but only for a little while, Maggie sensed. The implant was still pulsing—but much slower now. It would speed up again in the future and torture her some more. But for now she had a moment of respite.
The man in black seemed to understand what was happening. Slowly his thick fingers withdrew, leaving Maggie feeling empty and alone. Suddenly all the shame she’d been able to ignore while the desire was at a fever pitch came rushing back. God, had she really just done that? Had she really just rubbed herself off against a complete stranger’s hand?
What’s wrong with me? What am I becoming?
She hung her head, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She didn’t want to cry—it seemed like crying was all she did lately. She had to be strong.
But somehow she couldn’t help the single tear that dripped down her cheek or the soft sob that escaped her lips.
“Hey, no—don’t do that.” The man in black sounded genuinely concerned. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He smoothed her skirt back into place and stepped away, talking in low tones to Zamir.
“She’s a fi
ne specimen but maybe you’d care to see others as well?” the slave trader said. “I have some females from the Ganga system—”
“She’s the only one I want,” the man growled. “Here—take your damn credit and unchain her.”
For some reason Zamir hesitated. “Your pardon, sir, but I was told to only sell this slave to someone who would…how can I put it delicately…misuse her as much as possible. My patroness would not be pleased if I report that I have allowed a compassionate male such as yourself to purchase her.”
Maggie’s heart sank as she remembered Lady Pope’nose’s final instructions. “…be sure you sell her to the absolute worst male you can find. The crueler and more heartless, the better.”
At least the man in black seemed to be kind and understanding. Would Zamir really refuse to sell her to him because he wasn’t a complete bastard?
“You think I’m compassionate?” There was a swift movement and they were close enough for Maggie to see that the man suddenly had the dealer by the throat. “Filthy slaver scum,” he growled as Zamir choked and gurgled in his grasp. “How compassionate do you think I am now?”
“Sir…sir, please,” Zamir gasped.
“I’m leaving with the girl whether you want to sell her to me or not. So you can either take your credits and unchain her or I can break her chains myself and you’ll get nothing. Make your choice.”
“If sir will only let me go,” Zamir gasped. “I will…will be pleased to…unchain—”
“Good, do it! And be fucking quick about it—I want to get her out of this fucking meat market.” The man pushed him roughly away and threw a clinking sack at his head.
Zamir fell to his knees and then somehow managed to stand, rubbing his skinny green throat. He stooped stiffly to pick up the sack the man had thrown, then made his way over to Maggie and fumbled with the cold metal manacles around her wrists. At last they clicked free and she could lower her arms.