Voyager

The commander ignored Victoria swearing at the men. That's interesting; It's even more interesting that there's tomfoolery here, yet these hard men obey instantly when told to stop. What kind of soldiers act this way? What kind of... Combat troops! They're combat troops! Why are combat troops needed around CELTs?

He leads us to a well lit room. I can see his face clearly now. He's young and good looking on one side. The other is marred by a long scar from the tip of his eyebrow to his jaw. Still, the face is handsome with a kind of dashing rake to it...a Cossack.

Surprisingly, there is no fondling, none. He just hooks our collars to a ceiling chain and begins to clean us with soapy water and a sponge as if he's washing his car. I'm mystified; no man can bath a helplessly bound woman and not fondle her breasts. Then it hits me...he's gay.

This is a problem. Gays are immune to CELT wiles. My mouth, for example, which is readily available even when tied, moist, warm, pink, and tight has saved me from a lot of pain. That won't work with gays!

I glance over at Victoria. She looks uncomfortable, but relieved that he's just washing. I study her again in this new light. What incredibly full lips! I wonder if she's also a decent cock-sucker. I'm sure she's done it before, who hasn't? But she's probably set the rules. It's unlikely that she's done it with her hands tied behind her back, with the threat of a whipping hanging over her head. That's how you really learn to suck cock. I'd never have learned properly without a whip. The first time I brought a man to a proper climax, he patted me on the head like a puppy. I was so giddy that I nearly fainted! This is all ahead for you, Beauty.

He dries us and stands back to admire his work then speaks. "I am Senior Lieutenant Alexsandr Evgeniy Kuznetsova. You will refer to me as Senior Lieutenant Kuz-net-sov-a...Kuznetsova. I am responsible for processing CELTs and for maintaining discipline here in the resort. Follow our rules, honor your contracts and you won't see me again until you leave.

The resort...?

"You will be with me for three days of observation and testing," he continues. "After that, Mr. Nemov will explain your role here more fully. You will rest now." There's a small accent, but the English is almost flawless. What's more telling is the body language. This is one uptight dude.

He releases my collar chain and leads me to a small, windowless room with a narrow bed, toilet and washbasin. I am repulsed by the touch of his hand on my bare skin. I wonder why. Shouldn't I be more put off by someone who wants to grope me?

Surprisingly, the room is nice, especially the floor which is a beautiful hardwood, polished to a sparkling glow. I wonder who does the cleaning, everything is spotless. He releases my cuffs and points towards the bed. Then he locks the door and turns out the light. The switch is outside the room. In absolute darkness, I feel my way to the bed and lie down, luxuriating in its warmth and softness. In seconds, I'm asleep.

Suddenly, the light comes on and the door opens. "Stomach!" he yells. I'm instantly awake and rolling out of bed onto my stomach. It's the faggot. Didn't he just leave? How long have I been asleep?

He quickly ties me with cord: left thumb to right toe, right thumb to left toe. I recognize the binding immediately. It's the lover's cross, so called because it splays the girl for easy fucking. Howard used it all the time.

Am I going to be fucked now? He turns me over onto my back and leaves, turning out the light. My cunt is in the air. I'm scared, but also excited. My nipples harden and my mouth begins to water. I ball my hands into fists and use them to prop up my ass, raising my cunt even higher. This response is nearly automatic. I wait, breathing hard. Like any junkie, I curse my addiction to sex and feel guilty about it, but still... My body vibrates in anticipation.

Anticipation! I'm about to be pig-fucked and I feel...anticipation! What's wrong with me! Why have I put myself in this position? Suddenly, the light comes on again and my world goes from black to white. Someone is in the room. I feel bare feet near my face, standing on my hair, holding my head in place. He half kneels, half sits on my chest. I can feel his bare ass cheeks touching my skin. My vision clears; I'm inside a long, hairy box canyon with a huge prick standing at the end.

I look up at him, frightened. He strokes my face. The fear subsides, replaced by a throbbing need to make contact. I turn my head and lick his bare foot. He laughs and straightens my head with his hands, moving forward so that his balls are over my mouth. I take him inside eagerly, moaning softly. The moaning turns him on and I can hear his mannish grunts as I tongue his sack. I hear blood whooshing in my ears.

After a while, he pulls out and turns. I tilt my head back, opening my throat, and he slips his cock inside. My lips close as he begins to fuck me and I time my breathing to his long strokes. There are wet sucking noises, but no gagging. His hands are on my breasts; I feel him pinching my nipples. The pain makes my body arch and my mouth tighten around his prick. The pinching gets harder.

I fade out... When I return, he's mounted me. Instinctually, I squeeze my cunt muscles in time to his thrusts. He groans and covers my mouth with his. Saliva flows down my throat. The thrusts are so powerful that my sweaty body begins to slide on the floor. I flatten my hands and try to wrap my legs around his. They won't move! I groan with the frustration of not being able to wrap myself around his body.

He lifts me off the ground like a doll and stares into my face. We stare into each other's eyes as he slowly impales me. His cock feels like a fence pole as he jerks me up and down, hypersensitive breasts rubbing on his chest hair. We explode together; his arms close with the crushing strength of a boa constrictor. I can't breathe...I don't care.

It is a few minutes before I can think straight. The beast is lying next to me, exhausted. I move to snuggle with him and can't. Fucking ropes! In a minute, he stirs and plays idly with my breasts; then he smiles. I smile back. It's enough for now. Slowly, he gets up and walks out of the room, forgetting to turn off the light. Somehow, I know that he's not my owner. This was a test. I look around the room for a camera. Why bother hiding it with a CELT? I spot a small imperfection in the ceiling; that's it. I wonder how I rated.

I have not fucked anyone other than Howard in more than a year. It feels strange. Sex with Howard had become deliciously sweet and familiar, no matter what he demanded. This was completely different: more typical of how a CELT is treated. As someone once told me, "I love my Harley, but I don't ask if it wants to go for a ride; I just get on and turn the key."

Alexsandr walks into the room and stands over me. I look up at him and know exactly what he's thinking: Why do men find you so appetizing, Bitch?

You'll never know, Faggot, I think to myself.

He turns me onto my stomach and unties the cords. "You have five minutes to clean yourself." I move slowly to the tiny washbasin and toilet. The light goes off before I'm finished, but I manage to finish in the dark and find the bed. Delicious aftershocks roll over me for a long time before I sleep.

...And dream.

Light! Again I go from black to white in an instant. "Stomach!" he yells. Half asleep, I roll onto my stomach. I know that the faggot is just itching for an excuse to whip me; I also have a feeling that as long as I obey his orders, I won't be punished. He's as straight-laced as they come, my little toy soldier. Straight-laced! I smile inside.

He straps leather cuffs to my wrists and ankles, then gathers up my hair and slips a hood over my head, tightening it at my neck. It has a built-in collar that provides a secure anchor point. I feel a zipper near my mouth and two holes near my nostrils; are these big enough? They've got to be, it's all I'm going to get. I begin to regulate my breathing...long and slow. A panic attack now would be a nightmare.

I hate fucking hoods! I also think they are impractical for transport; there are much better ways to maintain control. In fact, the only thing they're really good for is punishment. Many men can't finish a whipping when they're watching their girl's face. A hood hides her pain. Of course, no one has ever asked my opinion!

Alexsandr lifts me to my feet and attaches a stiff leash to the collar. I feel a tug and start walking. The texture of the floor changes as we move into the corridor. After a while, he pushes back on the leash and I slow then stop.

"Kneel!" I drop to my knees. He pushes me down to my haunches and uses a hook to join my wrists and ankles. I straighten my back and spread my knees wide, trying to maintain good slave posture. In a few minutes, I sense nearby motion; my wrists are unhooked and I scramble to my feet, brushing against something soft. I'm sure it's Victoria. We're being processed together. He pulls on the leash and I start walking. I can feel her at my side. I move my hip and bump her gently; she bumps me back. Okay, that's good; she's aware and responsive.

The floor changes again as we enter another room. I feel my leg being lifted over a long wooden beam which is maybe two inches wide and a foot high. My wrists and ankles are hooked to chains bolted to the floor; belts are tightened just below the beam to hold my arms and legs together. My toes are just touching the ground.

What is this, discipline already? ...Why?

I feel his hands on my ass; he spreads my cheeks and squirts something inside. I shake my head in useless protest. No! Please, no! The dildo is hard and thin; he clamps it to the beam. I strain reflexively to push it out...nothing. It hurts and I taste my tears. It could have been a lot bigger, I guess.

The faggot touches my collar and in a second the thing is off. I'm blind, which makes it easy for him to shove another dildo into my mouth and clamp it to the beam. As my vision returns I can see that the beam is maybe six feet long. He makes some adjustment to square everything off. I'm naked strapped to a beam with dildos in my ass and mouth. Every part of my body is either precisely parallel to, or perpendicular with the floor. Why such precision? I try to relax, recognizing the first signs of hysterics. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Alexsandr place Victoria on her own beam. She twists violently and starts to convulse when the first dildo is pushed in. ...An ass virgin? I try to remember the first time I was sodomized. Alexsandr is also clearly surprised at her reaction, but aside from squirting on more oil, he basically ignores her. I wonder about my hood theory, would he be so fucking heartless if her hood were off...probably.

Did Victoria really understand that she was signing up for this? A CELT never knows how harshly she's going to be treated. The only consolation is that she always has her right to protest, an action that will end the contract immediately. It's full of legal complications and financial implications, but it's reassuring to know that it's there. I hope she's not close to pushing that button.

As he removes her hood I am again struck by her beauty; her long silver-blond hair is spectacular. Guiltily, I imagined her in a black leather outfit with her wrists and elbows tied tightly behind her back, being led around on a leash. She would be a sensation.

I watch as the dildo is pushed into her mouth and her head pushed back hard. Magnificent! The fact is that some girls become even more beautiful when they are bound and in pain; she's one of them. I want to fuck her myself; I can only imagine the reaction she has on a man.

Alexsandr uses a phone near the door. The three of us wait in painful silence. Several times, I meet the faggot's eye and we stare at each other with hateful glares. Finally, the door opens and a tall man enters. He nods to his man and takes his clipboard.

He moves to Victoria and starts talking; I can't make out what he's saying, but his hands never stop moving over her body. He fondles her breasts and cunt. I say "fondles," but a better word is "inspects." He carefully inspects her shape and fullness, but has no manly reaction; it's eerie, unnerving... Could he also be queer?

Pleased, he tests her for pain using a variety of implements. His actions continue to be mechanical, sterile. But somehow, he acts differently than the faggot; it's almost as if her pain is...unimportant.

This guy is straight; he's also a latent Sadist like most other men. But there's a difference. He's mastered his passions. For him, sex is about release and Sadism is about control; human feelings and desires simply don't exist. In other words, a monster! He stops and stands near her head, waiting patiently for her to calm down.

So far, I've met the faggot, the beast, and the monster; I wonder when I'll get to meet the fucking Wizard!

Checking his watch, he pinches her nose closed. In a few seconds she begins to convulse...rhythmically, as if she's in the throes of an intense fucking. It's hard to watch, yet fascinating. His lack of feeling is a weird backdrop to her suffering.

In the middle of this, she comes. The intensity of her orgasm is incredible. I'm glad that she is so tightly restrained; anything less and she would have broken bones. He releases her nose and makes another note.

The girl is disoriented and wide eyed, twisting piteously on the twin dildos. She's trying to get it together enough to scream. The man watches her for a few moments and then retrieves an electric vibrator which he pushes deeply into her exposed cunt. She comes again, almost immediately. Then he does it again, and again. The pain of multiple forced orgasms is excruciating; I'm surprised that she remains conscious. He makes more notes and moves to me.

Fuck! I know it's useless, but still I try to twist off the beam. All I manage is to stress my ass and my throat; there's no escape. I'm trembling, but look up at him defiantly and smile. He smiles in return and makes another note. Then he starts talking while running his hands over my body.

"This won't take long, Jesse." His English is perfect. "You're unusually beautiful. I just need to know how much you can take; what your limits are. You don't need to do anything. Your body will tell me everything. Just relax. I'll answer all your questions in the next few days." His tone is so reasonable and comforting that I almost do relax; then he begins... my silent scream is long and hard.

Finally, it's over... It's hard to tell with the waves of pain still coursing through my body, but he seems pleased when he finally leaves the room. I'm too weak to feel hatred yet, but I know it will come. This was more than sexual Sadism; this was criminal punishment without a crime: exactly the kind of thing the CELT laws were designed to prevent.

Alexsandr returns us to our rooms the same way we came. I climb into the bed in total blackness and try to think. The man said it was an evaluation. Why is an evaluation necessary? What is this place? Who are these people?

We're fucked of course! There's no other way to look at it. Getting fucked is part of the deal, but there's fucked and then there's really fucked. We are really fucked!

I cry myself to sleep in the dark. What have I done?

++++++++++++

Interview

The next morning, Alexsandr leads us to another part of the building. It's a bathing area. Three nude Asian girls wait outside. They are all young, thin, and small, with a similar kind of tight, strong body; a binding cord holds back their long hair. They bow together. They're all collared.

The faggot hands us over and we're led inside.

I smile and try to speak with one of the girls; she points to the bright red marks on the back of another's legs. The message is clear: the no-talking rule is strictly enforced here. I step into the bath.

These girls are CELTS like me, but their contracts are much harsher, almost slave like. An Asian bondage contract typically sells on the Hong Kong exchange for about $60,000...and that's for a 12-year contract! This wouldn't be so bad except their governments are notoriously bad at tracking and monitoring their captivity. Protesting for Asians, for all practical purposes, is nonexistent. Even worse, Asians are simply "lost" all the time.

The Chinese are the worst. They encourage this high-volume, over-the-counter commodity trading in women for its cash flow. They also promote a healthy trade in female "exotics," beautiful girls sold off-the-block out of the Hong Kong auction houses.

The only thing they forbid, along with every other country is underage trafficking. If anything, the worldwide prohibitions against this have become stronger over time, even draconian. In many ways, it's all about public relations. Governments can get away with lots of other abuses by protecting the children.

In over populated China, poor parents are now certifying the age of their female children by embedding a tiny microchip birth certificate under the skin to prove that they are legally saleable as CERTs.

The warm water and the steamy air are relaxing.

It's all about numbers these days; the world has too many people chasing too few resources. Aside from CELT babies, no one wants a child; they're just too expensive.

Things aren't all bad though... For example, there are no more ideological wars, people worry about resources now not philosophies, and surprisingly, over-population has also led to more equality for women.

Not that this means much anymore; the woman in today's civil union is almost always employed full time to keep the family above water. Some global corporations, which control the production of almost everything nowadays, even prohibit their employees from marrying outside the corporate family. It's just more productive to marry a co-worker.

Modern man-women relationships are much more asexual now. This is one reason why CELTic arrangements are so popular. CELTs provide the intimacy and sexual interest that today's practical partnerships lack. Generally speaking, a beautiful and desirable woman is much more valuable as a CELTic sex slave than almost anything else. No wonder we are universally reviled by most females!

The bath maid shakes my shoulder and holds up a huge towel; then leads me to a dressing room where a leather vest and pants are waiting. The vest is sleeveless, with one perfectly sewn seam under each arm. It ties in the back with a leather cord, lifting and shaping my breasts in an incredibly provocative way. The pants are also skin tight, with a slight flare at the bottom for easier removal. I check myself out in the mirror. The outfit makes me look even taller. I stand on my toes and admire the line of my legs and butt. I wish I had heels, but my bare feet are also sexy. Victoria looks even better, like a model straight out of the pages of Vogue.

Alexsandr comes in and makes a quick inspection. Then he orders me to my knees and adds a leather collar and cuffs. The collar fits tightly and keeps my head straight, but it's not uncomfortable. All the restraints contain a metal ring; it won't take much to make us helpless again.

The bath maids bow and shuffle subserviently into a back room. Victoria and I look at each other and smile. It's amazing the difference a little clothing makes. Alexsandr catches the look and roughly turns her around, locking her wrists behind and chaining her to a wall ring. I notice that he lifts her to her toes. Cruelty seems to be the standard here.

The faggot then locks my arms and leads me away with a leash. As I've been taught, I follow a step behind and a step to the right, walking in the haughty manner of a champion show dog. I have been whipped too many times to do it any other way.