Return to Sessia Ch. 13

The sensation of cold gel against my hot feverish naked skin made me jump and Gretchen ordered me not to struggle, or else she and Mariska would be forced to tie me down to the bed.

I tried to remain as still as possible and I could see that the naked slave-girl in the mirror was crying. I took in deep, slow breaths and tried to calm my fear and surrender my naked body to Mariska and whatever plans she had for it.

I closed my eyes tightly and whimpered as it felt as if Mariska was trying to force my anus open with a broom handle. I submissively kept my thighs apart, raised my buttocks in the air and even tried to relax my sphincter muscle, and then with the help of lots of lubricant and Mariska's strong hands, my anus finally opened up and the head of Mariska's dildo was pushed inside of me.

"Aaaghhhh, that hurts," I exclaimed as the large phallic weapon pushed open my tight, sensitive anal opening.

"If we want to hurt you, we will," said Gretchen reprovingly.

"And open those little eyes, girl," Mariska said admonishingly, "No cheating. I want to see the look of distress and helpless surrender on your face as you're anally violated."

I forced my eyes open and Mariska pushed the wicked, plastic phallus deeper into my tight channel. I panted and embraced the feeling of being opened and rendered defenseless by this boyish woman with the muscular arms. I had surrendered my rear to this domineering woman. It now belonged to her, more than it did to me.

Mariska got what she wanted. I could clearly see the look of distress and helpless surrender on the face of the naked girl in the mirror as Mariska's strong hands pushed the dildo down into my tight orifice as far as it would go.

My hands gripped the bedsheets tightly as Mariska's hateful weapon went in and out of me with sharp, vigorous thrusts and tears ran down the face of the poor, naked girl in the mirror. Mariska violated my poor tight anus until I was sobbing openly and then she rolled me over and tenderly kissed my tears away.

* * * * * * * * * *

On November the twenty-first, I was driven to the O.S.I. offices in Greenfield and ushered into the offices of Assistant Director Rayne. She shook hands with Gretchen, Victoria, Darya and then; much to my surprise; she even shook hands with me.

"Isn't that slightly unusual?" Gretchen asked referring to the handshake. Slaves weren't normally afforded social niceties like handshakes and introductions. Slaves were usually ignored until they were required to obey the orders of their masters or mistresses.

"Everything about today is unusual," replied the Assistant Director. "Miss Schlank is still officially a slave, however today we're removing her collar, giving her clothes to wear and setting her loose on a public street. This turns all the traditional slavery rules on their head."

Then she turned to me and asked, "Are you scared, dear?"

There were flutters in my belly and my heart was beating too fast. Actually, I really was scared, but I wasn't willing to admit it. Somehow I felt that I was being given an important responsibility by being the first slave in this Escape and Capture game, and I wanted to do well and be remembered as performing admirably. I didn't want to be remembered as a frightened little girl.

"No, I'm fine," I said, trying to sound braver than I actually felt.

"Good girl," she said to me, and then she turned to the entire room and said, "Alright then, here are the rules,"

"Miss Schlank will be given clothing and then driven to a nearby location and dropped off on a public street. She'll have ten hours to make her way to Emmeline Pankhurst University. Now, the O.S.I. has approved ten young women to act as her stalkers. These young women are permitted by law to pursue Miss Schlank on foot, to commit minor assault against her, forcibly remove her clothing, bind her with ropes, cords, handcuffs or what have you and bring her back to an O.S.I. office by force."

"So, these woman are allowed to use force against Diane to abduct her," Darya said, "Is Diane allowed to use force to resist being abducted?"

"Oh, yes," the assistant director replied, "It would hardly be sporting otherwise. Scores of reporters and cameramen are stationed all over between here and the university. They're all hoping to see a struggle between Miss Schlank and at least one of the women who are attempting to capture her. Her valiant and spirited struggle will get far higher ratings than meekly surrendering to the first contestant who locates her."

"Weapons?"

"No, no, no," the assistant director responded, "Neither Miss Schlank or her opposition are allowed to use weapons. Miss Schlank is a young, fit, athletic woman. Her arms and legs should be enough for her to resist capture. Her stalkers are also young and fit. Police in both Greenfield and Bridgeworth will be keeping an eye out and they will intervene if they see either side using weapons or inflicting serious bodily harm."

"But, otherwise the police will stay out of it?"

"Oh, indeed," she responded. "If the police see one of Miss Schlank's stalkers pinning her to the ground and tearing off her clothes, they won't interfere unless it looks as if someone is being serious hurt or being foolishly reckless and obviously endangering someone's safety."

Then a thought occurred to me and I asked, "What if ten hours has passed and I still haven't reached the university, but none of the contestants has captured me?"

The assistant director looked annoyed at the question, however she had a ready answer, "In the unlikely event of such a stalemate, everyone would go home and we'd have to hold the competition again...most likely the very next day."

"You'd better be trying to win," Gretchen cautioned me, "If I find out you spent most of today hiding in the basement of an apartment building, I'm going to be very upset."

I held my hands up in a sign of surrender and replied, "I promise, I'll try to win. I'm not going to hide!"

We spent the next hour going over the rules and then Gretchen and I had to sign some legal forms, stating we understood the rules and would agree to abide by them. There were a total of eleven pages and I didn't even bother reading most of it. I think I understood all of the rules and the consequences for failure to follow them. And if I tried to escape for real, the O.S.I. had a tracking chip embedded underneath the skin in the back of my neck. The police would find me and bring me back and I'd be severely punished, so obviously I wouldn't try to escape for real. I'd just play their game instead.

Once all the legal formalities were dealt with, a security guard unlocked and removed my slave collar, and the assistant director produced a cardboard box and set it down in front of me.

"Your clothing for the day," she explained. "We have your measurements in the O.S.I. database, so everything should fit.

I opened up the box and rapidly did an inventory; there was a pair of hip-hugger panties, a sports bra that closed in the front, a pair of low-rise skinny jeans, a pair of socks, a pair of Nike running shoes and a t-shirt with the words PROPERTY OF BMC emblazoned across the front.

I tried everything on and I was pleased to find that everything did fit. I guess the government bureaucracy in Sessia knows what they're doing. They got all my sizes right.

"When you go back to the United States, you can keep the clothes," the assistant director said. They fit you perfectly."

"Unless they get torn to shreds, while she's being forcibly stripped by an overly-enthusiastic stalker who wants to capture her and win your game."

That was Victoria who said that. I sighed heavily and tried not to let the mental image of my clothing being ripped from my body demoralize me before the game even started.

* * * * * * * * * *

The shortest route to Emmeline Pankhurst University was west down Darwin Street, however Darya had explained to me that most of my stalkers would likely be waiting for me somewhere along that route. If I were to detour north into the Greenfield Forest and then find Dover road, I could follow that for about five kilometers west, then travel north again on Lake Street, I could follow lake street for about three or four or five kilometers and then when I got to the intersection of Lake and Garibaldi, I could turn on Garibaldi and follow it for...

Well, it could mean traveling a greater distance to get where I was going, but I'd be less likely to run into my pursuers and more likely to reach the university unmolested.

Of course, I had ten women trying to catch me. If even one of them strategized like Darya and I, they might be lying in wait for me Lake Street or somewhere else on my alternate route.

Well, that was a risk I was willing to take. Even if they saw me, they still had to catch me if they wanted to win...and I didn't intend to make that easy. And I was filled with nervous energy, so I sprinted down a side street at a speed at an impressive speed that would have made Darya proud.

At first I just ran mindlessly, putting one foot in front of the other, rapidly putting distance between me and the Greenfield O.S.I. office. Fear, adrenaline, my strong legs and Darya's training had transformed me into a speed-demon.

By the time I slowed down, I was on a biking, running, walking trail in Greenfield forest. My manic sprinting had burned off a lot of my nervous energy and I was able to think more clearly.

With the advent of clearer thinking, one of the first things I noticed was how people around me were acting differently than before.

When I was naked, handcuffed and being led around by Gretchen, people around me (both men and women) would stare at my body with undisguised lust. They had no qualms about looking like a dirty old man, a pervert or a sexual predator. It was acceptable behavior to openly ogle the naked body of a slavegirl. However, I was now a fully-dressed woman and people perceived me differently and when I passed them walking through Greenfield Forest, they would just give me a casual glance and perhaps a smile or a nod.

I didn't have a watch, so I couldn't accurately keep track of time, however at some point during my trek through the forest, I came across a naked slave-girl.

She was tied to an Italian Stone Pine, with her back to the tree trunk and her wrists and ankles tied behind her. Her waist was also tied to the trunk of the tree by several tightly secured nylon ropes.
As I came closer, I could see that the girl was panting and covered in sweat. She twitched as she struggled against the ropes, but the ropes were far too strong and the knots were tied far too effectively for her to get free.

Her feet weren't touching the ground, but were rather about ten inches above it, as her ankles were bound tightly with rope and then the ropes were tied off to separate rings that were drilled into the tree somehow. Her ankles were tied off in such a way as to force the slave-girl to spread her legs wide and leave her moist pubic lips cruelly exposed.

I'd been bound in similar situations by Gretchen, but for some reason, I felt far more pity for this bound, naked girl than I'd ever felt for myself.

"Hello," I said as I stopped in front of her. She stopped twitching and she made eye contact with me. Her breasts were still heaving as she continued to pant. I wondered how long she'd been tied this way.

"Hello, Mistress," the girl said as she focused on me. There was fear in her eyes, which didn't surprise me at all. She was naked and vulnerable. The way she was tied, I could do anything to her and she couldn't lift a finger to stop me. However her nipples were erect and her pubic lips were swollen and soaked in her own juices, so I surmised that strong sexual arousal was mixed in with the girl's fear.

"Who tied you like this?" I asked.

"My mistress," the naked girl replied.

The girl was really quite attractive. She was slender, and her trembling, widespread thighs looked firm and lithe. Her heaving breasts were small, but youthful and firm. She had high cheekbones, a cute little nose, full, kissable lips, a flat belly and a narrow waist. And the distraught look on her face and the thin sheen of perspiration that seemed to cover her naked skin just seemed to enhance her beauty.

"And did you do something to displease you mistress?" I asked. Honestly, a slave need not do anything wrong to earn a punishment like this, however it made the punishment more delicious if a slavegirl could be blamed somehow for the pain and humiliation that she was sentenced to endure.

"I used my hands to cover my nudity, Mistress," the girl replied. "I didn't realize how humiliating it would be to be displayed naked in front of total strangers, but when she invited the neighbors over to examine my naked body it was just too overwhelming. I couldn't cope, it was just too humiliating and embarrassing! So, now my mistress is leaving me out like this so that any passing stranger can ogle my naked body and get me over my shyness about being naked."

"And is it working?" I asked, "Are you over you shyness about being publically displayed naked in front of total strangers?"

The girl swallowed hard and replied, "I'm sorry, Mistress, but it's not working yet. I still find it very humiliating for you to be seeing me naked and exposed like this. The way my mistress has got my legs spread apart is torture...and indecent. I don't want anybody looking at me like this. And she shaved off all my pubic hair, making me even more exposed and naked! She said that there was a law and all slaves have to be shaved and exposed like this!!"

"Yes, I'm afraid she's rather right about that," I responded knowingly and from personal experience, "Slaves who have even a tiny bit of stubble down here are violating the law and can be pretty severely punished for it."

As I spoke, I stroked her reddened, swollen and wet pubic lips. The girl moaned in response. She shook her from side to side and allowed her eyes to close shut. "Please," she whimpered pathetically.

I ignored her pleading and watched her panting intensify as my fingers leisurely glided across her slick labia. My fingers were almost instantly coated with her rich juices. I held my glistening fingers up near my face and licked off her juices. Her taste was very subtle, almost indiscernible, although I detected a slight saltiness to her secretions.

"Oh, God," she moaned and blushed a deep shade of crimson. I don't think I'd ever seen a girl blush so deeply before.

"What? Was that embarrassing too?" I asked.

"Yes, Mistress," the girl replied. "When I signed the slave contract, I had thought that Emily was the only one who would see me naked or touch me like...that. But now it's everybody...Emily, her mother, her friends, her neighbors..."

"And even me," I finished for her.

"Yes, Mistress," the girl said, with tears welling up in her eyes.

"Yes, while you should always read the fine print before you sign a contract," I replied to the naked, bound girl. I was surprised to find that I was enjoying my power over this naked, defenseless slavegirl. I had always identified as a submissive, always enjoyed the passive role, always sought out strong women to be in charge of my life, but this naked girl was bringing out a dominant side in me.

Now that I was fully clothed, free from supervision and control, my libido was taking on a new and unexpected direction. I continued to stroke her labia, causing her panting to intensify and making her shudder reflexively.

And when I inserted two fingers into her wet sex, I felt her vaginal muscles tighten around my fingers, however she pleaded with me in a barely audible voice, "Please, don't."

"Haven't you ever had a woman's fingers inside you before?" I asked.

"Not like this," the girl whimpered. "Tied up and helpless like this...it's too much like rape."

I could actually feel the girl's frantic heartbeat through her sex. She was very excitable. In my opinion, she was really too excitable to be a slave, however it was too late to stop that ship from sailing. She'd already signed the contract and been registered as a slave with the O.S.I. It was too late for her to back out now.

"You really are innocent, aren't you?" I asked. "How long have you been a slave?"

"Two days," said the naked girl, "Well, I suppose today's the third day, Mistress."

I shook my head at her and read the name on her slave collar. "You've got a lot to learn, Danni. Orgasms are few and far between when you're a slave-girl. In time you'll learn to treasure them...no matter who gives them to you or how."

"It's shameful," the girl said, sounding distressed and miserable, "I'm already shamed by how exposed and naked I am in front of a total stranger, but it would be even more humiliating to be fingered to an orgasm, while you watch."

"Wow, Danni, you really are innocent," I exclaimed. "Orgasms are quite often the only enjoyment a slave has in her life. You shouldn't be turning them down."

Right then and there, I made a decision to take over and give Danni and orgasm, even if she thought it would be too humiliating for her to endure. When her clit was throbbing, aching and painfully swollen because she had been repeatedly denied sexual release, she'd look back upon this day fondly.

I kept two fingers deep inside of her tight sex, explored, poked and teased. I simultaneously rubbed her hard, swollen clit with my thumb. The naked girl whimpered and squirmed, but was helpless to stop me from invading her sex. She twisted in her ropes and panted and whimpered, "please", but she couldn't do anything to stop me.

I was starting to understand why Gretchen enjoyed having me helpless and keeping me under her control. I was feeling an unfamiliar sort of thrill as I saw the helplessness in Danni's eyes while I took possession of her naked body and did whatever I wanted with it.

Danni gritted her teeth, panted and seemed as if she was trying to resist the inevitable orgasm building inside of her, but in the end, she cried out in sexual release, shuddered several times and gasped in an adorable, girlish way and enjoyed the afterglow.

"Did you enjoy that, Danni?" I asked with an affectionate tone. "I really did have your best interests at heart when I did it for you."

"It was horrible and I think you're mean," the naked, tied girl replied sulkily. "I'll admit there's a few moments when a girl forgets everything else, but tied down like I am, the whole thing is shameful and obscene. I'm not a girl anymore, I'm a sex object to be ogled, fingered, fondled and petted!"

"As a slave-girl you can be punished horribly for talking like that," I replied. "Your mistress's name and phone number is on your slave collar. Would you like for me to have a talk with her?"

Danni studiously avoided eye-contact with me and refused to answer. I suspect she feared her mistress's disapproval.

"Has she spanked you yet?"

"No, Mistress," the naked girl replied. I was shocked. She really was an amateur at this. Her learning curve was going to be steep.

"She will," I warned her. "And if you have this much of a problem with nudity, I shudder to think how poorly you're going to do with corporal punishment."

"Are you really going to tell my mistress?" the naked girl asked. Her eyes were pleading with me. She looked really cute when she did that. She could melt any female with that look. I wondered if I ever looked like that when I was intimidated and scared of an impending punishment.

"It'll be our little secret," I told the girl, and the fearful pleading in her eyes was replaced with relief.

* * * * * * * * * *