Chapter 4 – Dinner

Slavery, Whipping, Noncon, Orgy, Humiliation, Exhibition, Kidnapping

“In due time.” Hol Vydon said, “First, I want to see this Fury lashed.”
A buxom middle-aged human woman in slave silks pulled Indy-Ra by her leash to a position in front of the Hol. She urged the Fury down to her knees and then stood behind her with one hand on a shoulder to keep her in place. Another slave brought a whip to the human woman behind Indy-Ra.
“I don’t see any marks on your skin. The bounty hunter did you a kindness, the last you’ll experience for some time. Ten lashes.” Vydon said, “Just to whet my appetite.”
The slave with the whip uncuffed and stepped back from Indy-Ra. With a flick of her wrist, the whip unfurled. She shook the whip, and waves coiled down its length.
Indy-Ra knelt, passively refusing any hint of emotion. The whip sliced through the air and cracked loudly next to her, but did not hit her. Indy-Ra remained motionless, unflinching.
Vydon nodded, and the whip sailed through the air. This time, the end came down with a loud snap across the bare back of the kneeling woman. Indy-Ra’s eyes winced shut; she otherwise did not react. Kaster saw an angry red welt across her back and knew it must have been incredibly painful.
The whip slave made a show of her lashing. The whip danced through the air, making graceful figures, only to come snapping down loudly across the Fury’s back. It hissed angrily over the older slave's head, snapping at empty space only to then come crashing down on its victim.
On the third blow, Indy-Ra’s hands came up off her thighs. She forced them back in place.
At number five, she fell forward, catching herself with her hands. She knelt on all fours, trembling for a moment as the whip made intricate designs in the space above her.
With the seventh blow, she cried out, then cried again when the gag shocked her. Again, she fell to all fours, trembling, her eyes now brimming with tears.
“That's it, Fury.” Vydon mocked her, “Just a few love taps for now. But this will be your life. You’ll wear little else in my house but these marks.”
Another silk-clad slave helped Indy-Ra sit up again, and the lashing continued. With each blow, she now fell to her hands and cried out, causing double agony from the gag. Each time, a silk-clad slave would place her back in position.
Before the ninth blow struck, Indy-Ra was flinching with each hiss of the whip. The false snaps in the air made her jump and flinch. Tears began streaking down her cheeks to pool against the gag. On the tenth, she completely collapsed to the floor, shaking and screaming in her gag, forcing a feedback loop that continued her agony well past the lashings.
“Now this is more like it!” Vydon bellowed. “Soon enough, girl, you’ll learn your place. Your Fury days are over. From this day forward, you’ll be nothing more than my worthless fuck slave.”
Indy-Ra’s back was crossed with agonizing welts, and trickles of fine blood leaked from a few. She shivered on the ground before the Hol, crying and trying to bring her feelings back in check.
Vydon commanded, “Prepare her for dinner. I want her implanted and branded. No clothing for her. I want everyone to see a mighty Fury is nothing more than a cunt and tits under her witches' robes.”
“And this other bounty?” Kaster asked.
“We can discuss the specifics over a meal. And perhaps… more enduring employment opportunities.”
Kaster considered his options. He’d prefer to receive the details of his target and get to business. Declining the hospitality of a Hol would be a dangerous ingratitude. One thing Kaster did not want was to become a servant to any one of the Coalition warlords. Kaster appreciated the pay, but becoming a lapdog was not on his agenda.
“I’d be honored, my lord.”
“Excellent.” Vydon looked back into Kaster’s eyes, judging the man's metal. “Syrakk, allow our honored guest to freshen up and join us in the dining hall.”
“Yes, my lord.” The majordomo swept forward, bowing, then said to Kaster, “This way.”
Kaster was led to a lavish fresher. All the surfaces were marble, and all the fixtures were faux gold.
“Will you require a change of clothing? A dinner robe?” the majordomo asked.
“Just my pay,” Kaster replied.
Just his pay was a lot of money. More than most sapients are made in several years of regular employment. He washed his face and hands, expecting betrayal and a rush of thugs at any moment. When none came, he stepped out of the fresher and into a grand hall of the Hol’s mansion.
White marble and cheap fake gold plating seemed to be a theme. Kaster guessed Vydon had originally been very poor and earned his way to warlord through hard work and many graves. The décor and tacky ambiance very much propped up that theory. The warlord had no sense of classical taste and instead wanted to impress with gaudy opulence.
“There you are.” The majordomo said, “Dinner is about to be served. This way.”
Kaster followed down a short hall into a long room, where the center was dominated by a long table. At the far end, Vydon busily engaged a dozen guests in a story that ended when he saw Kaster.
“The man of the hour!” Vydon exclaimed, “Come sit at my spot of honor.”
The Hol gestured to an empty seat close to his right hand. The seat and dishware were not quite next to Vydon; there was a gap of clear table end on each side nearest the warlord. Kaster took his seat, noting that it was more than an arm's length away from Vydon, enough room for another to sit next to the Hol. If Kaster were to try and attack Vydon, he’d have to reach over the empty spot. The murderous guards behind Vydon would also make escaping an attack impossible.
Kaster nodded to Vydon and then sat in the seat the Majordomo offered. He noted that the seat across from him was empty, but all the seats to his right down the table were occupied. The dozen people at the table all had the same look: hard eyes looking for any way to profit from those around them.
“A toast.” Vydon raised his glass, “To the bounty hunter who delivered a Fury into eager arms. To you, Kaster, a salute of the deepest respect for your skills, may you profit from them handsomely.”
“Hear! Hear!” the dozen guests cried out.
“Food!” Vydon yelled.
From the doors behind him, slaves in see-through silks, male and female, of a multitude of sentient species, began bringing out trays. Kaster watched the parade of slaves. All wore small silver hoops through their nipples and plain, simple metal bands around their necks, wrists, and ankles. Plates were set in front of guests who wasted no time in pinching, fondling, and otherwise harassing the slaves as they attempted to work.
“Sir,” a pale blue Gythian woman said as she curtsied next to Kaster’s chair. She looked relieved when she was able to set his plate down without being accosted, unlike the other slaves.
Kaster looked down at his plate. It was heaped with meats and vegetables he’d never seen before and covered in decadent sauces. He glanced down the table, noting slaves placing entire roasted animals, exotic fruit dishes, and expensive wines all along the table. He knew without needing to ask that this meal alone would cost a small fortune.
“It's a rare Typhoni cutlet,” Vydon explained, pointing a fork at the strip of meat on Kaster’s plate. “The species is soon to be extinct, so enjoy it while you can.”
Kaster nodded, then leaned toward the Hol and asked, “And who are the other guests at your banquet?”
“You'll do well in my entourage. I can tell you have a sharp eye and a mind for business,” Vydon said as he stuffed a huge slice of cutlet in his ample mouth. “You’d have access to all, connections to the most connected beings in the Coalition, lieutenants, business associates, and some local entertainers. And… the freedom to run any business opportunities you desire. Smuggle weapons into Federated space, talk to Casmsile. Set up your own slave acquisitions, Fiorra, at the end. Ply your trade as an assassin? Talk to Vyytora. I encourage my people to pursue their passions, allowing us all to profit.”
“And you would take a percentage off the top?”
“Of course! That’s how things get done in the Coalition.”
“What’s your cut?”
“Thirty percent.” Vydon smiled around a mouthful of meat, “I’m exceedingly generous. Ask anyone at this table.”
Syrakk, the Hol’s majordomo, came up on Vydon’s left side, whispering in his ear. Vydon nodded vigorously and then took a control wand from the majordomo. As the servant scurried off, Vydon lifted a wine glass and tapped it loudly with a fork.
“Esteemed guests, loyal servants, profitable partners,” Vydon said as the crowd hushed. “Our true guest of honor has completed her implanting process and is now ready to join us. Thanks to the bravery, the prowess, and the huge fucking balls of this hunter, I present to you the Fallen Fury, Dame Indy-Ra.”
The guests stood and applauded. Unsure what to do, Kaster also stood but nervously nodded his head to the applause.
The doors behind the Hol opened, and Syrakk escorted Indy-Ra into the dining hall. She was marched to the left of Vydon, who craned his great bulk around to get a better look at his prize. She was naked, except for high heels and a gag. Her nipples now had the same small hoops the other slaves had, as well as her ears and pussy. Around her neck, wrists, and ankles were simple silver metal hoops. She stared straight ahead, looking impassive as the eyes in the room devoured every curve.
“Well,” Vydon went on, “What’s a new toy without playing with it a little?”
The crowd laughed and sat in their seats. Kaster did the same without the laughter.
Vydon held up the controller, “How high should we jack this up?”
“All the way!” several of the guests shouted.
“If you insist,” Vydon said as he worked the controller with a thumb.
Indy-Ra’s eyes widened, and she staggered, her hands immediately rushing to her crotch. The majordomo holding her by an elbow kept her from falling, then tried to guide her hands back to her side. She gave a panicked look to Kaster but realized there’d be no sympathy there.
“I think she likes it,” Vydon announced to the roar of the crowd. She continued struggling to remain standing, covering herself with her hands.
“I wanna see her dripping,” A woman from the far end of the table called out.
“So do I,” Vydon replied, “Syrakk, get her hands behind her.”
The majordomo pulled Indy-Ra’s hands behind her back. Vydon flicked the controller, and the metal hoops at her wrists snapped together with a loud click. Syrakk then grabbed her by the back of the collar and forced the woman up for all to see. Indy-Ra squeezed her thighs together, but they were shaking uncontrollably.
“Should we let her have one as a taste?” Vydon asked the guests.
Many yelled out their assent. The same woman who’d yelled earlier cried out, “Fuck no, zap that cunt.”
“So sorry, dear Ashlaya, the menfolk want to see her cum. And I do love to please.” Vydon said. He thumbed the controller.
Indy-Ra bucked in Syrakk’s grip and fell to her knees. Her hips contorted lewdly as she tried to pleasure herself against the air. The crowd cheered, and glasses were tapped against each other. Kaster watched it all without betraying any emotions; he was a mere observer.
When Indy-Ra’s strongest spasms had passed, Syrakk forced her back up on shaky legs.
“Syrakk, let's have her walk the table. My guests only get the best, and I doubt any have ever felt a snatch full of Fury cum. Go ahead, cop a feel, you glorious bastards. Tell everyone what it's like to stick your hand in dripping Fury cunt.”
The majordomo shoved Indy-Ra forward, marching her slowly down the length of the table. She went past the empty chair across from Kaster, but was groped at every chair after that. None of the guests spared any humiliation of the Fury. Their fingers burrowed deep into her, smeared her juices across her body and face, spat on her, and penetrated each hole, except for her gagged mouth. It took nearly twenty minutes for the Fury to be marched around the table as she was tormented by all.
Finally, she arrived at Kaster’s chair. She was lost, eyes winced shut, as the implants inside her, fused to nipple and clit worked in a frenzy keeping her more aroused than she’d ever experienced in her life. The revenge he’d wanted felt different somehow, seeing her tormented so ruthlessly. He was proud that his skills had bested her, but this treatment was something he never imagined.
Knowing the Hol’s eyes were on him, Kaster reached up between her thighs, gripping her outer lips. He could feel the implant on her clitoral shaft buzzing in his palm as he slipped two fingers deep inside her with no effort. Her own juices were freely flowing down her thighs. She shuddered as he penetrated her and moved her hips forward hungrily in hope of getting another orgasm. Kaster slipped his fingers free and wiped her essence across an ass cheek.
Vydon did not play with his new toy. He directed Syrakk to place her in the empty seat across from Kaster. When she sat, the loop at her neck snapped back into the chair, locking her in place. Indy-Ra closed her eyes as the implants tortured her deliciously.
Kaster picked at his food unenthusiastically as he watched the Fury struggle as she was denied orgasm after orgasm. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she ground her thighs into the chair in a vain hope of release.