6 - Breakdown

A horn blasting far too close shocked me out of a fitful sleep. I sat up, wondering why I had a thick animal skin covering me, then the last day came rushing back. Jaxon was waking up next to me, looking bleary-eyed like he’d had the exact same quality of sleep I did, but there was a guilty, confused look on his face.

The furs at his crotch were bobbing up and down, then I realized Kessa was underneath, waking him up in a way that was considered customary in this world. I grabbed the furs and covered myself, wondering how she could even breathe under there.

Jaxon was now up on his elbows, looking at me like he wanted to ask a question. Instead, his face contorted, and he moaned.

“Fucking pig…” I muttered, crawling out from the furs and looking around for anything that might serve as clothing. 

“Don’t blame me,” he whispered, gesturing to the bobbing furs, “I didn't ask…”

I turned away, furious that there was no privacy and knowing he was looking at my bruised ass. Thinking about, even though I tried not to, I knew I was a fucking mess of bruises and dried fluids. I was half-heartedly happy that there wasn't a mirror, or I might have died seeing myself.

I hissed back, “Sure doesn’t look like it's stopping you from enjoying it.”

I spotted two backpacks, charcoal grey like our jumpsuits, and was ecstatic that Jaxon had the sense to rescue them the night before. IN my defense, it was a horribly humiliating evening in every way. I opened both and found mine, pulling out a spare jumpsuit and a pack of wipes.

“Fuck!” Jaxon grunted. I glanced back while trying to wipe my thighs clean to see him wincing as if in pain. He clutched the furs where Kessa’s head moved beneath them. Furious, I dumped his backpack upside down, letting everything spill out. Pig.

Kessa popped free shortly after giggling and wishing her ‘master’ a lovely morning. I felt a flicker of guilt about dumping his bag, but he could at least pretend to be reluctant. And damn it, why did she have to look so perky about being nothing more than a piece of ass? I was actually feeling a little guilty for hating on her until she approached me as I was tugging my spare jumpsuit on.

Kessa touched my shoulder and whispered, “It would be more proper to attend your master before your own needs.” She stepped past me with a look of horror, “Are these his things?” She swooped down, gathering and shaking dirt off his things, before stuffing them back into the bag.

I had to admit, watching her made the silly prank of dumping his bag out deeply satisfying.

The way she’d bent down gave me a moment of pause. She didn’t just bend at the waist, but at her knees, so her whole body dropped, all in order to retrieve Jaxon’s suit. It struck me as so wholly submissive a move that I found myself turning to watch her as she rolled the suit in her arms, then stood scurrying back to him, offering his suit as if it were a sacred privilege.

Jaxon had sheepishly covered himself with he furs, and glanced at me as the girl offered his clothing to him. He took them with a thank you, and she replied, “Allow me to help you, sir,” as she scooted around pulling the furs off him, running her hands slowly down his legs, lingering between his knees as she helped dress him.

Kessa fumbled with the flight suit, trying to figure out how exactly it worked. She got the legs and arms laid out, but the zips and touchseals she was struggling to understand. Jaxon leaned forward and showed her how to tear open the seals. She then helped ease his legs into the suit and scootched up under his ass as he lifted. He seemed relieved when he got his still-hard cock covered and shot me a nervous glance once he did. I returned the look, only with daggers. Working her way around him, she got the garment partway up his back, then helped guide his arms through it. She was still behind him when he fumbled for the sealing zip, prompting her to reach around him, her hand going to his. “Please, sir, show me so I can properly serve you.”

As he explained the zip, showing her how to pull it up along his torso, the uniform tightened around him, clinging tightly to his body. The modesty programming kept the crotch from being too revealing, but all his muscles were easily defined under the slick stretchy fabric. Kessa ran her hands along it, then pressed her chest to his back, “Ymm, it feels like your skin, sir, only cool to the touch…”

He took her hands before she could get back to his crotch, “You should help Selena prepare for our journey…”

“Yes, master,” she breathed huskily, as if the thought of taking her hands off of him caused some sort of hunger. I had to remind myself she was a victim of this culture, conditioned from birth. It didn’t stop the sharp flare of irritation.

I watched as she dressed, which didn't take long at all, given that she had little more than some wisps of see-through silk. When she was finished dressing, the most intimate parts were covered, but barely, if I looked too long I could catch faint glimpses of her most intimate places beneath the sheer silk.

Kessa turned her attention to me with a disapproving look. She glanced at Jaxon, then came over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder as she leaned into to whisper, “Sister, you’ve covered everything… How can a master enjoy the pleasure of your body if it is hidden?”

“Master, has known me long enough that he appreciates me for my mind and knowledge,” I explained, with only a tiny hint of condescension.

“That may be,” she whispered, “but to deny his desires will only enflame his want for others who tempt him…”

“Like you?” 

“Sister! I am only here to help you become the woman the clan would be proud to show other clans.”

I thought a moment and replied, “I do not care what other men want. My master appreciates me for what I am to him.”

“He is a part of this clan now; pride in his prized property reflects on the whole.”

“Perhaps he enjoys savoring me all for himself, and doesn’t wish to share.”

“Sister, we are a clan, all essentials are shared…” She struggled for more words, but couldn’t seem to form them into coherent thoughts. I hoped that I was planting tiny seeds of doubt in her mind, that perhaps she had more worth than as a bauble to be shown off and traded for a mug of drink.

Jaxon came and swept up his pack. Kessa pleaded to take it from him, but he wouldn’t give it up. She didn’t offer to help with mine, of course. Why would she?

Thrain arrived and asked Jaxon how Kessa had performed. Jaxon stumbled over his words but eventually sang her praises. Thrain explained that she’d been trained in the yards at Trafok with a glance at me, hinting that he thought I needed the same. I looked at the waif. She had already dropped to her knees, head bowed like an eager puppy waiting for a pat from her owner. I followed suit, realizing that I was doing this far too late, knowing it would only reinforce Thrain’s viewpoint.

The rest of the morning was spent preparing for travel. Jaxon went off to discuss manly things, while Kessa insisted I help bring down the tent. Fortunately, a gaggle of other slaves came to help, giving me poisonous stares. It was obvious they were envious that I was covered while they wore wisps of clothing that barely covered everything spilling out. 

I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of saying the outlander slave was lazy. So I worked harder than any of them. I’d done harder work in basic training, and was happy the jumpsuit was built to regulate body temperature, wicking away heat as the others perspired as we pulled down and folded up the tent. It was the first of about a half dozen.

“Shouldn’t the big, strong men be helping with this?” I asked at about the third tent.

The looks I got made me bite my tongue. One girl replied, “They are busy protecting us.” I nodded, listening to the men protecting from the meal tent as they laughed and talked about the route to Trafok.

From the time we woke until we finally pulled down the meal tent, maybe two hours had passed. I was surprised by the efficiency with which the women were able to take down the entire camp town. In the Federation, a task like this with only women would have devolved into committees debating the optimal way to pull out tent support for several hours without accomplishing anything. Honestly, regardless of sex, the same results would happen on any cushy fed world.

A horse was brought for us, but when I glanced around, I realized it was only for Jaxon. Slaves were expected to walk while the men rode. Not very efficient for a raiding party. I approached Jaxon as he struggled to pet the horse whose reins he held.

“This isn’t a warband, is it?” I asked, gesturing at the column. “Half the troupe is walking. That’s no way to move quickly.”

“No,” he replied. “It’s a diplomatic mission. The City-state of Vrath, where these Thrain and his clan are from, is traveling to Trafok seeking an alliance. They need help against Drayce, who’s taken over the city-state of Korvalthok.”

“Void! Those names…”

“Right? They just roll off the tongue.”

“Well, this is good. Drayce isn’t just stealing from this world. He’s setting up an empire and pissing off the locals in the process. This feeds us allies and help. We just have to be careful about the Mandate; non-interference is going to be our first objective.” I said, immediately feeling guilty, not-guiltily, for planting subtle seeds in the women’s minds about wanting more than being creatures whose only purpose was to serve men. 

The recordings might damn me later in debriefing… If anyone ever got past the humiliating treatment I’d already received. I hoped the recording would be buried in a deep vault somewhere, but the cynic in me knew they’d be leaked and snickered at.

“A little late for that. Drayce is arming his troops with blasters. The balance of power they had here is about to implode.” Jaxon said. “Not to mention the wreckage of our ship. How long before we are overdue?”

“Three weeks…” I said. The thought of being here three weeks, plus another couple to assemble a rescue crew and get out of the edge of the galaxy… At least two months before we could expect a serious rescue effort. Jaxon was doing the math in his head as well… but then he wasn’t threatened with daily abuse in his position.

“Don’t worry, I’m your shield,” he said, then whipped an arm around me and pulled me into him. 

I tensed up, then heard the crunch of footsteps behind us. Jaxon whispered into my ear,  “Thrain and Kessa, back into our roles.”

“Yes… Master…” I choked out. Jaxon released me in time to see Thrain eyeing my body with disdain. If he was trying to imagine me naked, it shouldn’t have been too hard. He’d seen plenty of me exposed last night.

“The host is preparing to move out,” Drayce said. “You’ll be part of my troupe, stick close and keep an eye on Vorn. Ensure he knows how to use that rifle.”

“Aye!” Jaxon exclaimed. “And my girl?”

I felt a sting. Girl? I was his fucking commanding officer.

Thrain glanced over with disdain, “She’ll be fine with the other slaves, although some will question why you keep her covered so heavily. Are you ashamed of her age?”

Ashamed? I had to bite my tongue so hard I could taste blood. Kessa was barely twenty, and I looked only a few years younger than her. Thrain would probably have a heart attack if he knew I was fifty-six, thank you, Fed Health Tech. If I managed to somehow not be violated to death on this shithole, I’d easily be alive into my hundred and fifties.

“This is our style of dress where we are from,” Jaxon explained. 

Thrain clapped Jaxon on the shoulder, “Better to adopt our ways while with our people. Don’t you enjoy seeing your slave’s bare skin, and others coveting what is yours?”

Jaxon remained silent, and Thrain took that as affirmation. He clapped Jaxon again, adding, “Fine, fine. I’ll have Kessa loan some silks.”

I glared at Jaxon, but there was little he could do. Thrain waved me to follow. I stomped past Jaxon, furious that in every single situation, I was the one who ended up humiliated and on display.

Thrain marched through the throngs of mounted warriors and clusters of slaves to a cart packed high with chests and bags. He barked, “Kessa!”

“Yes, master?” she appeared as if from thin air.

“Warrior Jaxon’s slave is in your charge. Dress her…” he looked at me with a sour face, “In something more appropriate to her station.”

“Yes, master,” she replied with her head bowed. 

I took this exchange to take a good look at both. Kessa was nineteen or twenty. If she were a Federation citizen, I’d have guessed fortyish. Train, on the other hand, was weathered, and there was plenty of grey in his beard and hair. If we were on a Federated world, I’d have placed him in his eighties. On this primitive world, he was only forty or fifty. 

Without a doubt, her sexual service was required. She was a slave with no choice, and I grappled with the aesthetics of it. It was a problem of cultural norms. The medical tech of the federation doubled natural human life, and in doing so, made youthful appearances last longer. Because we lived so long, from our twenties to forties, the ages looked very similar. And even though people in that broad range might look the same, a twenty-year age gap, mentally and emotionally, was a huge spread. It was rare to ever see couples with such a broad age difference that they actually looked different ages. So seeing him put his hands on her in a suggestive way very much kicked in a serious ick. 

To me, they looked like a couple with a forty to fifty-year age difference, when in reality it was merely a twenty-year gap. When she was my age, she would look as advanced and decrepit as he did. 

Then he just left. Leaving me looking at this girl, who was half my age, in charge of me.

Kessa looked at me with some reservation, I was certain she didn’t approve of my attitude. Or of me being completely covered, while she was wearing what could best be described as an outfit made of see-through silk scarves. 

“I will loan you my clothing until your master can clothe you properly,” She explained with what I assumed to her was a comforting touch to my elbow. When she climbed into the cart, it became obvious that undergarments were not a thing. 

She rummaged for a few moments and returned with a bundle of soft pink silks, holding them out to me. “It would please my master if you wore clothing more befitting the dress of our people. Your master will be offered the same.”

I took the bundle, horrified at how light and transparent it was, “You're going to make him wear silks?”

Kessa tittered, covering her mouth with a hand, “Oh no! Clothing more befitting a warrior.”

“His jumpsuit is inadequate?”

She cocked an eyebrow this time, as if beginning to understand I was teasing her. She wasn’t entirely vapid. “It may be a wonderful garment in your climes, and perhaps even denotes his status among your people. Here, however, it marks him as an outsider and offers little in the way of protection from harm. He would be much better suited looking and being protected as a warrior.”

Fair enough, I thought, but if they wanted Jaxon to fit in, it went double for me. I glanced around, warriors were gathering in larger clusters, mounted on their horses, while women were milling about, having finished the packing. “Where can I change?”

“Right here, of course.”

As in… Out in the open. I wanted to protest, but even though I’d been exposed and violated last night, I wasn’t eager to slip into something much more intimate in front of literally everyone. Kessa looked at me quizically, it was obviously an unusual question. These girls probably had modesty beaten and ravaged out of them from an early age. 

I set the bundle on the cart, sighed, and unzipped quickly. Kessa came around behind me to help me out of the jumpsuit, which relaxed significantly once it realized I was undressing. Once I was naked, I realized I’d made a mistake of not laying out the silks before stripping. I unwound the bundle and began trying to figure out which scarves went where, all of it looking impossibly skimpy no matter how I turned them in my hands. 

Snickers from a gaggle of slaves made me glance over to a group of half a dozen slaves, gesturing and laughing at me as I struggled. I could feel pinpricks of heat flare across my cheeks, my hands fumbling to untangle the mess. Kessa tried to help, but we were interrupted by a voice booming above us.

“A new girl for the clan?” a leather-clad man mounted on a horse barked down at us. I doubled my efforts to figure out which of the silks was the top and which were the skirt panels, getting more frustrated and anxious now that a man was oggling me.

Kessa replied for me, “Yes, sir Drall, she is the property of the warrior Jack’s Son.”

“Hmm,” he growled, “I like the shape of her hips, I imagine she beds nicely. Is her owner happy with her?”

“I believe so, sir. He indulges her like a first owned.”

He laughed, “His first girl, eh? Then she hasn’t been broken in properly, has she?” 

I fumbled madly, thinking I’d figured out the strings and panels meant to be a skirt of sorts. Kessa answered again for me, “He seems quite fond of her, but perhaps he might be convinced to loan the girl.” 

Stars! I thought. He wanted to borrow me like a favored mount for the night. Heat flooded my face and chest. I wanted to shrink into the dirt or snatch the silks and cover myself, but both options had already vanished. The comments were also starting to make a different kind of heat flare, a burning anger that I’d be talked about like some common property to be passed around.

“Inspect,” he barked. 

“I’m not your toy to display!” I snapped. I clenched my fists in the silks, forgetting in the heat of the moment just how naked I was.

“Selene!” Kessa gasped. “You must…” She grabbed my bundle of silks, well, hers actually, and tried pulling them from me, which only further fanned the flames consuming all reason. I yanked them away from her, while planting my foot near her, causing her to trip to the ground. Her shocked look as she went down made me instantly regret my temper. I was supposed to be smarter than this.

Drall lept from the saddle, grabbing me by the throat in a blur of motion. I was shoved up to the rough wood, dropping the silks and clutching at the hand that was an iron vice around my throat. Years of hand-to-hand training flashed through my mind in an instant. I pulled up a knee to kick, but the warrior caught it in his free hand. Then he slammed into me, knocking the wind completely out of me. Stars danced as I slumped down to the ground to join Kessa, who eyed me with a suspicious stare.

I sputtered and coughed, looking up to see Jaxon holding back Drall’s open hand. The two turned to each other, puffing out their chest and stamping their feet like primates. I expected blows to start raining.

“What is the meaning of this?” Thrain yelled like thunder.

Everyone froze. Kessa looked terrified. Jaxon and Drall glared at each other frozen like statues.

“We have so much strength that we can waste it squabbling? Over a slave girl?” 

“This outlander’s cunt struck Kessa.” Drall said, “The newcomer cannot control his girl.”

“I didn’t…” I croaked.

Kessa hissed, shaking her head, then bowed her head low. I looked up to Thrain. His eyes had nothing but murder in them, anger emanating off him like aura.. 

“Is this true? Your bitch struck my slave?” Thrain asked in a low tone. Not to me, but to Jaxon.

I bowed my head, realizing my moment of lost control had escalated things far outside my control. But it was so unfair. Since we’d landed, everything had been taken from me. I was supposed to be in charge, supposed to be the mission commander, supposed to be experienced and composed. I could feel a burning pain in the back of my throat, and tears threatened to start spilling.

“I don’t know… I only saw this man about to strike Sele… My property.” Jaxon turned away, looking at Thrain, exiting the confrontation in the only way he could maintain face without things going to blows.

“Kessa. Is this true?” Thrain asked.

In a rustle of silks, Kessa scrambled to her knees then looked up to answer, “Yes, master. I’ve failed my duties to properly guide…”

“Enough,” Thrain said. “Are you hurt?”

“No, master.”

“I apologize for any…” Jackson started, but was cut off.

“More than an apology is needed. Your slave raised a hand to another man’s property. Correct your bitch so all can learn from it.”

Jaxon looked around at the gathering crowd. Gawking slave girls and mounted warriors alike had pressed in to see what the commotion was.

“He doesn’t even have the sense to beat her,” Drall smirked. “If you aren’t man enough, I’ll do it.”

Jaxon spun and marched toward me, barking as he came, “On all fours!”
I looked up at his face in disbelief, and he returned a hard stare. My mind was blank with the crushing unfairness of it all. Every set of eyes was on me, and even though I wanted to rage and stomp off, I couldn’t with the weight of all those glares.

Jaxon reached down and grabbed me by the hair, yanking me off my ass and throwing me back to the ground. I struggled to lift my face out of the dirt, but he was on me pining me down. With another yank my ass, my bare ass was up in the air as he kneeled next to me. 

There was a loud crack, and then a biting sting that bit to my core. I gasped in stunned disbelief on the first strike, biting my lip to keep from crying out. I wasn’t going to give them the pleasure. The blows came down hard and fast. The sound of his hand cracking on my skin was unreal. By the fifth strike, I was squealing, and after only a few more, I was crying out, thrashing, and beginning for release. Years of command… reduced to this. Kicking like a spoiled child under my junior’s hand.

“Count them,” Jaxon demanded.

I couldn’t. I could only struggle and cry. I wasn’t an experienced agent at that moment, just a girl begging it to stop. 

“Count them, or I’ll keep going!”

“One!” I wailed, “Two.. I’m so sorry!” I started making numbers up after that, unable to focus as the stinging pain, heat, and shame overwhelmed me. On top of all that, I knew every pair of eyes was on me, watching as my ass turned bright red, as I shoved my face and tits in the dirt. I was the center of all their attention, and the lowest creature under their collective gaze.

Struggling was useless. It didn’t matter how many years of self-defense training I’d gone through. The simple fact was that he weighed more than twice as much as I did. Any effort to shring into the dirt was blocked, I remained face down and ass up as the blows rained down. Between my cries, I could see everyone watching. And worse. Laughing. I could only close my eyes and ride out the sharp series of blows that had my skin turning crimson red.

“Her skin reddens nicely…”

“Uppity whore needed this…”

“She shames us all…”

Random comments from every direction only made it worse. Men and women alike hated me. I was nothing to any of them… Except for the hand that was striking me. Jaxon knew who I was, he had to do this, all because of my stupidity and pride.

And when the blows stopped, the humiliation still wasn’t done. Jaxon stood then yanked me up onto shaky feet. My hands went to my ass, hoping to soothe some of the ache away, but Jaoxn wasn’t having it. He shook me by the hair and barked, “Inspect!”

It was hard forcing my shaking hands up away from my sore backside. But there was going to be no rescue in this moment. Jaxon was the one instigating this time. I was alone and utterly naked. A foot kicked my ankles apart, and I stood there trembling, fully exposed.

There was no softness in any of the faces I saw looking down at me. I could only imagine what they must be seeing: a dirty, naked woman, tears running down her face, shaking before everyone. They all looked down on me. The men with the smug satisfaction of having put an errant pet back in its place. The women, too, were happy to see the uppity bitch returned on par with them. Their looks were the worst, most humiliating, taking glee that a sister was no better than any of them.

“Apologize.” Jaxon hissed in my ear as he twisted my hair, making me look at Drall, who stood there with his hands on his hips, gloating. I was a tiny insignificant thing next to the man who had caused all this. He waited expectantly for my words while I could do nothing but look down at his feet in utter humiliation.

“I apologize, sir, for any trouble I have caused.” I stammered out.

Drall shook his head, “Louder.”

I looked up at his face. He was serious. A yank to my hair told me Jaxon was as well. Closing my eyes, I forced the words out, “I apologize, sir.”

“For what?” Drall asked dryly.

How should I respond to that? For daring to think I was a human being with any dignity or agency? “For not listening, sir.”

“No,” he said. “Apologize for being a willful but lowly cunt.”

Even with my eyes closed, I could feel his gloating. He was reducing me to a mere body part. The only thing his kind wanted. Just a sexual toy. Nothing more than a cunt. And he couldn’t stand the thought of one of those daring to defy him. I hated having to say it. It was beyond degrading.

“I apologize for being a willful but lowly cunt.” I choked out.

“Louder.”

I said it again, forcing the word out of a throat that didn't want to cooperate.

“She still defies you,” Drall said to Jaxon, I imagined.

Jaxon twisted my hair, and several blows from his free hand came down on my ass. There was laughter from all around as I squealed and begged him to stop. Begged my subordinate to stop spanking my bare ass in front of a crowd that got off on degrading a helpless woman.

The tears flowed openly as I shouted, “I apologize for being a willful but lowly cunt!” 

The shame burned me to my core. In my entire life, I’d never been treated like this. I was so small here.

More words were said among the men, but I could no longer make them out. I was lost in my own head, my body shaking in shame, the rage having been burnt away. Naked, exposed, and posing so all could see every bit of me. 

I wanted to make it all go away. I wanted to curl into a ball, but Jaxon held me there on display for everyone.