Chapter 2 - Prisoner

Slavery, Kidnapping, Noncon, Mindfuck

The cell door hissed open, and Kaster looked down at his prize. A Fury, bound and gagged. Still sadly wearing clothing, but he knew that would change soon. She’d be lucky if the overlord who placed the bounty would ever let her wear a stitch of clothing again. As a Fury, she’d also most likely be constantly drugged as well, to prevent her from using any of her witchy ways.

She knelt as if in prayer. Her eyes were closed and her face serene, even with the thick gag stuffed in her mouth. When he stepped in to snap a collar around her, she attacked, leaping instantly to her feet and kicking hard at him.

Kaster stepped aside, deflected the blow, and swept at her other foot. He then grabbed a handful of her robes and flung her from the cell. She hit the wall outside with an umph. The sound from her triggered a shock from the gag. She froze up only for an instant, then spun, ready to fight. He grabbed her and spun, flinging her down the hallway to the common area of his ship.

She rolled and was back up, but by this point, they both knew it was pointless. She was bound, and any noise she made resulted in a shock, while he was at least as skilled as she was. He advanced on her as she backed away, looking for anything that might turn the tables.

Retreating backward, she entered the common room, a place to lounge during the hours in jump space. There were a few couches, a small table, and two chairs. Little else was in the room except doorways to the cockpit and the sleeper.

With little else to help, she came at him with a barrage of kicks. He stepped around, over, and past them, blocking only as a last resort. This was better than he thought their first union would be. He’d imagined just having her in the cell while she repeated mantras impassively. The fight was a welcome pleasure. She’d also soon tire herself out. He let her go at it for a bit, but when she got desperate and tried to kick his table at him, he rolled in and grabbed her ankle.

She tried to use it as leverage to land a blow with her other foot, but he whipped her robes around the leg, binding her fast. Completely off balance, she tumbled, and he guided her falling body face-first across the table. He landed on top of her. She squirmed violently, trying to shake him off.

“That was fun, but I want to do more than dance.” He worked his hands around her neck and snapped the collar on. He lifted his chest off her just enough to ensure there was distance between him and the collar, then pressed a button on its controller.

Her back arched as she was hit with a jolt of searing pain. Which of course made her cry out, causing another shock from the gag. Not wanting an endless cycle of screaming and shocking, Kaster deactivated the gag and pulled it from her.

When her breathing was back to normal, she said, “You should release me so we can talk.”

Kaster responded with a laugh, “Those tricks may work on the weak-willed… But I had hoped you recognized me as another Focus user.”

He shifted his weigh,t grabbing her by the top knot in her hair and pinning her face to the table. Carefully, he eased himself up with his finger on the controller for the collar. Reaching out with his Focus, he sensed her intentions and read her body language before she acted. When he stood, he was able to press the controller, shocking her before she could leap up herself.

“I can do this all day.”

“What do you want?” She hissed.

“Already told you. I want to take you. I want to have you.”

“That’s a crime…”

“Yeah, yeah, and so is kidnapping, and WaveBlade dueling, and a thousand other things I’m guilty of.”

“Honor my yielding with tradition…”

“Boring. You are a fucking bore. You assumed I would honor tradition when you yielded. I said no such thing.”

She quietly panted, and he could feel her gauging whether to make another attempt. Even through her stoicism, the pain of the collar was too much. He leaned down, gathering her robe up, pulling it up along her legs. She went rigid, then tried to lash out. He shocked her. He gathered the robes again. She moved. He shocked her. They played this game several times, with her growing weaker every iteration.

Finally, he was able to pull her robe up over her ass. The same panties stared back at him. The same ass he’d smacked back on planet. He could feel her, reaching out with her Focus as well, again trying to calm his hungers. Just looking at her ass, and the thin fabric covering it stirred passions in him he could not wait to unleash. She sensed this, felt his hunger, his want, his need to be in her, and shuddered. She was playing with fire. By opening her Focus to him, she’d allowed him to infect her; tickles of want and desire bled into her.

He grabbed her hips suddenly, and she gasped. No man had ever done this to her before. He could sense it through the Focus. She was indignant, horrified, and just a touch… aroused. She mumbled her mantras as his hands traced the hem of her underthings. When his hot, burning fingers moved to her inner thigh, she tried to move again and was shocked.

The fight was now gone. He could sense that she wanted to get through this as quickly as possible. It didn’t surprise him that she’d never been fucked before. Furies were trained young, taught to become stoic, that feelings lied, and so it was no wonder that nearly all of them had never tasted the pleasures of the flesh. He guessed her to be in her thirties and thought what a long time to go before having sex.

His fingers stopped tracing the panties and slipped inside, under the hem on each side. She tensed, and he ripped each hand apart, letting his strength alone shred them. Her breathing quickened, and he knew no man had ever seen her like this, spread and bare.

Taking his time, Kaster unfastened his belt, letting the buckle jangle and fill the room with noise. Her fear and desire grew, and he helped it with nudges of his own Focus. So much for being a stoic, he thought; she was a complete mess with emotions bleeding out loudly.

Leaning down into her, he exhaled hot breath down the valley of her ass. She groaned and shuddered but dared not do more than that. He breathed out again, letting the tickle of his hot breath caress her pussy. She squirmed and tried to close her legs, but he stopped her, pressing a hand against each knee. He wanted her to feel him behind her, staring into her, knowing he was looking at her bare cunt.

Reaching up, he grabbed her, hard and rough. She yelped, trying to sound like a driven warrior, but coming out shrill. As he expected, she was damp, slicking his fingers as he gripped her cruelly. He was surprised to find her bush trimmed. He’d expected the wild forests of the frontier. He ground his fingers and palms against her, squeezing her, crushing her, giving her cunt the rough treatment it had never received before. She let slip a series of stuttering moans and pleaded for him to stop. And he felt her fear, knowing she was about to be violated, hating how low it made her, conquered her. But still, that tickle remained, that hunger as her body betrayed her, desperately wanted to feel alive.

He opened himself up to her and revealed every lurid thought. She pushed in, trying to sate his needs, trying to calm his fires. He flooded her with a thousand images of them fucking in every position known, the joys he would feel with her wrapped around his cock, and the ecstasy of him climaxing inside her. She shifted her Focus, trying to defend herself from the myriad images. It fractured her resolve, diluted her Focus, and he overwhelmed her. She sighed, just at the thought of how it would make him feel.

Unable to hold back any more, he pressed his aching cock to her. He only laid it down between her ass cheeks, letting her feel its heat and need. She twisted, her ass grinding against him, fanning his flames to new highs. Was she trying to escape? Overwhelmed by his Focus? He didn’t care; he basked in the feel of her burning flesh pressed to his.

Gripping his prick like the pommel of a WaveBlade, he shifted it, aimed it up into her. She locked up. He delighted in her worry, disgust, shame, and curiosity. Rather than plunge right in, he decided to torment her more, slapping his cock up against her lips, letting the wet noises fill the room.

“You are so fucking wet. You’ve waited a lifetime for this, haven’t you?”

“No,” she moaned, only half lying.

He slapped it against her a few more times, delighting when she ground back against him. She was an unfocused mess, almost unaware of how her body was reacting. He rode her Focus the same way he was riding her body, and in a moment, both would fuse.

He aimed up into her and plunged forward. While doing so, he blasted his Focus into her, making her experience what he was feeling. She was getting fucked and fucking herself at the same time. She cried out in both agony and pleasure at once. Her defenses came completely apart. He slid easily in her wet tunnel to his hilt, as she gasped at how full she was, how natural, exquisite, and violating it felt.

His hands went to her hips as she bucked, both trying to escape and seat him deeper in her. Flesh oozed between fingers as he gripped her hard and began slamming into her. She grunted with every strike deep inside. Her gasps and cries became an ecstatic frenzy. Jackhammering into her, he rode her without mercy, fucking her flesh and mind at once.

She was now an open book. He could feel her pleasure, her violation, her need. As he fucked her, he could feel exactly what it was like to be fucked. Her orgasm came rushing quickly. She was his now. He needed to humiliate her, ensure she felt small before him.

Before the climax could take her, he hissed, “Cum for me. Cum for me right now, you filthy Fury slut.”

And she cried out. He continued riding her, but his own Focus shattered. He fucked, and was fucked, and orgasmed, and came, shot his load, and received, all of it swirling in a mad frenzy. Blinding light and seized up muscles, howls, and screams.

When it was done, he lay gasping atop her, spent. And he felt her lying crushed beneath him, filled and dripping and whole and battered and shamed. He pushed himself off, letting his spunk spill out down her thighs. Panting, he stepped back to see his work. He decided this was his best art yet. He’d never taken a Fury before.

Panting, he told her, “Go back to your cell.”

Through the Focu,s he could see her shame, the afterglow of an unwanted climax, her humiliation, degradation, and utter inferiority. She got up with shaky legs and shuffled through the common room with her head hung.

“Wait,” he said.

Indy-Ra froze, afraid of what he might want next.

“Leave the robes.”