9 - Vessi

Somehow, I managed to get some sleep in the night. It was fitful and uneven. Worse, I woke to the wet sounds of slurping and knew that Kessa was waking Jaxon with her mouth. I felt him move, and then he whispered, “Stars… That's enough. You completely spent me last night.”

There was a pop, and Kessa’s bubbly voice filled the tent. “Good morning, Master. I hope you slept well?”

He grunted in reply, and I could hear and feel rustling. 

When I rolled over, Kessa’s hands were working Jaxon. She squeezed and stroked him while he half-heartedly tried to pull her wrists away. A flash of raw burning heat erupted in my chest. When she caught my eyes, she immediately tattled, “Master, I hate to darken your mood with bad news, but your girl Selene pleasured herself without you last night.”

I froze in abject horror, and my face must have shown it. Jaxon looked over at me quickly. His face was a jumble of concern, shock, and a hint of something else. I felt tiny, like a child caught red-handed with stolen cookies, only so so much worse. I tried to stammer something, but choked back that it was my body to use as I please. That would be fine, although humiliating enough, in Federation space, but the rules were different here. How does one address being caught masturbating when they aren’t supposed to? Even as a youth, I’d never been caught in this position, or so publicly exposed. I wanted to shrink away inside myself.

The morning routine dragged on in its humiliating brevity, every second reminding me how low I’d already fallen. Kessa helped Jaxon dress, then dressed herself, while I slipped back into her pink silks. Just having to wear her clothing irritated me at a foundational level. I would need to press Jaxon to find me something of my own, and in a different color. And certainly a lot more modest.

Kessa herded me out of the tent and to the other slaves while Jaxon departed to find Thrain. Once again, the routine was that we tore everything down, with me doing the bulk of the hard labor. It didn’t take long for the snickers to start happening behind my back. Every time I glanced their way, small groups of them would smile sweetly before melting into laughter. The other slaves kept shooting glances at me, then leaning together to whisper and laugh. I caught fragments… 'couldn’t even wait one night,' 'perverted slut.' Each giggle landed like a slap. I was completely alone among them, marked as an outsider and a desperate whore.

Travel along the dusty road repeated itself. I walked with the other women on foot in a cluster in the center of the column of carts and horses. I walked behind the other women. When I tried to be civil, they would snicker and turn away. Not even Kessa could spare a few words, not that I wanted anything other than to strangle her.

There were more settlements, sometimes single farms, sometimes clusters of buildings as we traveled. The men rotated riding out to ensure there were no raiders or other dangers, although from conversations I could overhear, we were well within civilized territory and approaching the city-state of Trafok. The dust kicked up was choking, and I hoped that there’d be some place to wash when we arrived.

A cold, sinking dread overcame me the closer we got to Trafok. There would be days of systematic breaking, of having my mind slowly taken apart and remade. The thought made my skin crawl , even as I tried to convince myself I could endure it.

While completely illegal in the Federation, it was well known in intelligence circles that the Coalition used brutal psychological techniques to break captured prisoners down. I knew I could look forward to isolation, sensory control, and reward-punishment cycles for conditioning. In a more technological setting, the prisoner was often stuffed into a VR suit so all those elements could be controlled with ease. I really didn’t like thinking about what the Iron Age equivalent might look like.

The columns skipped an afternoon stop to press on, reaching the Trafok gates by mid-afternoon. It was still sooner than I would have liked, and I’d yet to see Jaxon all day. We still needed to discuss strategy and get back on track for our mission. Rescue or not, we had a job to do.

We milled about just outside the gates as the city guard detachment swelled to meet our arrival. At the front of the column, I could see Thrain and some others talking to officials, discussing our purpose and entry, I was certain. Warriors cycled by to collect their women, and eventually Jaxon rode up. He called out to me, and I happily went to him.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to see you,” I explained. My legs ached from kilometers of walking. Getting to our living space and sitting down for a few hours would be a welcome relief.

“We need to talk,” Jaxon said. 

Kessa stepped up next to me from behind, “Sir! My Master has instructed me to serve you in your girl’s absence.”

Concern shot across his face, “In her absence? Now?”

“Yes, sir. My Master has already requested her intake.”

“What?” I exclaimed, “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m sorry,” Kessa said to me, “My Master says that you…”

I wasn’t listening. I rushed over to Jaxon, which was made more difficult by his horse sidestepping away. I hurried after demanding, “You’ve got to get me out of this.”

“I know…” he said, struggling to work the reins as the horse kept moving away.

“Seriously, we don’t have the time for this.” I was practically pleading with him.

“I’ll do everything I can,” he said, finally getting the horse to stop. “I…” his voice trailed off as three men approached.

“You are Jaxon, outlander from afar?” the lead man asked. He was older than the other two, with a thinner physique, although he still looked pretty fit. His dark hair had sprinkles of grey throughout, with sharp eyes that focused on me as if appraising a thoroughbred animal.

“I… I am.” Jaxon replied, fighting his horse again.

“I am Thral Lorthal, overseer of the House Lorthal Kennels. Thrain Kade has requested that a foreign girl be admitted immediately for training in the art of servicing men. Is this her?” he asked, gesturing to me. 

Looking to my left, I saw that Kessa was already kneeling… Of course, he knew which girl it was. I was the only one standing. 

Concern swept across Jaxon’s face as he struggled with the reins. “I was hoping for one last night with my girl.”

Thral bowed, “I understand. I was quite fond of my first girl as well. Time, however, is of the essence. We have an auction in six weeks and have just enough time to get our current batch ready. It will cost your host considerably more if we train her individually.”

Jaxon looked from Thral to me, with worry knotting his brow. He wouldn’t get off the damn horse and come to me. Given just a moment to whisper at him, I could have advised him on the negotiations; he could frame a delay as a high-value framing proposition or even appeal to a cost-benefit scenario. Instead, he stammered.

Thral pressed on, “Our time is short and measured. Do you release your property to the House for training?”

Jaxon looked at me as I shook my head, no, ever so slightly. It was obvious, though, that he couldn’t think of anything that might alter the immediate demand. What the hell was he doing all day? Riding around and drinking with his new friends? Was this an attempt to take control of the mission and leave me to hang? Or something worse. What if his true taste of Kessa had him thinking about staying here and having access to any woman who batted her eyes at him?

“Will she be harmed?” Jaxon finally asked. His horse had nearly turned completely around, and some of the crowd around us chuckled. 

“Your property will be returned to you with a threefold increase in value. Undamaged and worth so much more. You may even consider letting our House sell her at auction so you can buy twice as many girls.”

Blast. Jaxon was too distracted by the damned horse. He called out, “Ensure no harm comes to her, and you may train her.”

And just like that, I was handed over like a used toy. The casual way Jaxon gave permission made my heart drop. Another violation to add to the growing list. And this felt permanent. I was someone else’s property now.

An icy knot wound in my stomach at the thought of six full weeks in this place. Six weeks of being stripped, reshaped, and conditioned until nothing of me remained. At the end, I’d be just an eager, empty little toy. The worst part was the small, treacherous voice in my head whispering that I might not be strong enough to stop it.

Okay, six weeks was a long time, but my candidates' training in the Navy had been much longer. If I could handle six months of classes and drills and surprise inspections and living in ship conditions, six weeks ought to be easy. Well… doable. I just needed to anchor my purpose… I was a Federated Naval Officer; I would get through whatever they threw at me with pride. I would accomplish my mission with Jaxon and never see this rock again.

Thral nodded, and the goons behind him stepped forward. One had a leash in his hands. 

“Inspect!” Thral barked.

My body responded, and I snapped to attention, my hands flying to touch my neck. A little stunned, I simply watched as the one with the leash stepped up to and lopped an end to my collar.

And just like that, there was no longer any charade of pretending to be a slave. I was now the real thing.

Thral didn’t even bother taking the end of the leash, he let his goon handle it. One tug and I was wrenched forward. My hands dropped, and I looked back at Jaxon. The bastard was still struggling to control his horse, not even bothering to spare me a glance as I was hauled away.

“Get those hands back up.” The goon behind me barked with a slap to my ass through the silks.

As we approached the gate, Thrain, with Kessa at his side, stepped forward to intercept us. For a brief moment, I thought maybe he’d had a change of heart and was going to stop this from happening. When he spoke, that painful moment of hope was shattered completely. 

“This slave is wearing my property,” Thrain explained as Thral stopped. “Those silks were purchased for my girl.

Kessa said nothing. She simply stood there with her head bowed, slightly to one side behind the old warrior. In her hands, she had a bundle that she held out.

“These are the clothes that Jaxon dressed his slave in,” Thrain nodded to the bundle Kessa held. I realized it was my flight suit, the last unruined one.

Thral nodded to the brute holding the leash, who then turned and said, “Reveal.”

My fingers trembled as I untied the silks in the middle of the road. I was fully aware that Thrain’s entire clan, and dozens of strangers, were watching. The sheer fabric slid off my shoulders, and my breasts spilled free into the open air. My nipples were already stiff from shame and the warm breeze. I felt horribly exposed, like every imperfection and every private inch of me was being judged.

It was worse trying to untie the string on my hip, knowing that when it parted, I’d once again be completely naked in front of everyone. My mind was in a fog. I wanted to delay this moment as long as possible, but my fingers somehow worked the knot free, and suddenly I was exposed to everyone. I shoved the silks at the rightful owner, who handed me my flight suit, which I clasped to my belly, letting it cover me as little as it could.

The brute behind me made a single horrifying demand, “Give it. And get back into Inspect.”

I tried desperately to clutch the suit to my body for one last second of dignity, but he ripped it away. I forced my hands back behind my neck, thrusting my bare breasts forward. The position made them feel even more exposed, nipples hardening in the open air while strangers’ eyes crawled over every inch of me, judging every blemish and .

Thral nodded, and we marched once again. The sun-baked stones burned the soles of my feet, but that pain was nothing next to the humiliating bounce of my bare breasts with every step. I could feel them jiggling obscenely for everyone to see. A warm breeze licked between my thighs, teasing my exposed pussy, and I hated the slick heat that answered it. I wanted to vanish. Every jiggle, every sway of my hips as the guards marched me forward, reminded me that I was no longer a person. Just meat on display.

Most men barely spared a look at me. A naked woman being led through the street was completely ordinary. That indifference hurt worse than the leers. My breasts swayed heavily with every step, nipples tight in the open air, while a shameful trickle of heat warmed my inner thigh. I was just another piece of meat on display, and these people didn’t even care.

We came to a neck-high concrete wall running the length of an entire block. Inside, there were a few structures, a large two-story home, and what looked to be a long building that might be a barn. We passed through an open gate into a dirt-packed courtyard. At the end was an elaborate, layered marble fountain with gurgling water cascading in a multitude of tiny waterfalls. To one side was a long stone trough filled with water and a nearby shelf covered in bottles and sponges.

Three women knelt directly in front of the fountain. As I approached, one was kneeling slightly ahead of the other two. With crows' feet at the corners of her eyes, I placed her at about forty on this world, although she would have to be in her eighties in the federation for those significant signs of aging to appear. She had a soft, round face, and wide hips and breasts, a motherly figure in every way, even though she was dressed in slave silks. The woman to her left was lean, almost boyish, even with her eyes averted, I could see them darting, reading everything around her. The right-most woman was the youngest and prettiest, with an oval face and flawless skin, but her eyes were dark and brooding. Each wore a collar and silks. They were slaves like me.

Thral marched within a few feet of the woman and stopped. The goon behind me put a hand on my bare shoulder. I wanted to flinch away as a free woman, but I wasn’t. “Kneel,” he said.

I dropped to my knees, spreading them wide like I’d been taught, palms turned up on my thighs. My bare pussy was completely exposed in this position. I kept my head raised more in curiosity than defiance, even as shame burned across my face at how openly I was displaying myself to three strange women.

“I bring this slave to you for training. Do not fail her.” Thral said.

“Yes, master,” the women said in unison. 

“I release you to go about your work.”

“Thank you, master,” they said together.

As the women rose to stand, Thral and his men were already departing. The thug who’d followed me dropped my flightsuit into the dirt, not bothering to look back at all.

A rush of dread went through me as the three collared women rose and began walking toward me. I was completely naked, on my knees, and about to be handed over to the women who would spend the next six weeks breaking me.

The older one said, “Table,” in a warm motherly voice. I leaned forward onto all fours, hating that I was naked in front of them.

The pretty one bent low, giving me a deliberate view of her body as she retrieved a thin leather crop. The way she smiled while testing it against her open hand made my stomach lurch. I was painfully aware of how exposed my breasts and spread pussy were while I waited on all fours for whatever she planned to do with it.

The boyish woman walked past me and scooped up my jumpsuit. She shook it out, admiring the fabric and its stretchy feel. She then asked, “These are the clothes your master had you wear?”

I turned my head to look at the woman holding my clothing. “Yes, those are mine.”

The crop bit sharply across my bare ass, sending a bright flash of pain that made me yelp and arch forward. I could feel the hot welt rising instantly on my skin. Worse, there was a humiliating jolt of wetness it triggered between my spread thighs. Even pain was turning my body against me.

“Back in position, girl!” The pretty woman with the crop snarled at me. 

I shrank back into position, fighting the desire to reach back and massage the burning cheek.

The riding crop touched my lower back, and I struggled to keep from flinching. “You stupid fucking cunt,” she hissed. 

She continued, her voice venomous, “Did you just answer a Trainer with ‘yes’ like some free woman? You are nothing here. Nothing. From now on, every single word out of your mouth ends with ‘Mistress’ or ‘Trainer.’ You do not speak to us as equals. You speak to us like the worthless piece of fuckmeat you are. Do you understand, you brainless whore?”

She grabbed me by the hair, yanking my head back painfully.

“Say it properly. ‘Yes, Mistress.’ Say it like you mean it, or I’ll beat that arrogance out of your cunt until you cry.”

What else could I do? I hissed through my pain, “Yes, Mistress.”

I tried to cling to the thought that I was still a Federation Naval Officer. I survived worse in basic training. But I knew deep down that I was lying. This wasn’t training. This was something more intimate and cruel, and my body already knew it.

The woman’s fingers were still twisted painfully in my hair when the older woman approached. She reached out, touching the bitch who was wrenching my hair.

“Easy,” the older woman murmured, her voice was soft and warm, “She’s only just arrived. You’ll frighten the poor girl before we’ve even had a chance to begin. And we do need her to pay attention.”

The fingers in my hair relaxed with some reluctance, and the older woman knelt down in front of me. A hand reached out and brushed a strand from my face like a mother comforting a frightened child. 

Thank the void, I thought. They were playing good cop, bad cop. The motherly routine was designed to entice me into a sense of dependence on her, which would cause an unaware girl to perform in ways that would please. That would be the first break in behavior and would be reinforced with threats from Mistress, the bad cop. I would play along. I forced my lip to quiver as I looked at her.

“Such a sweet girl,” she continued. “That’s better. You did well saying ‘Yes, mistress.’ Such a clever, pretty little thing, aren’t you? I can already tell you are going to be one of my favorites.”

Her hand gently lifted my chin. I forced a shy, trembling smile and widened my eyes, playing the part of the frightened girl desperate for kindness. The worst part was how natural it felt. And how much I hated myself for doing it so convincingly.

“Thank you, mistress,” I whimpered.

“There now, you see? Such a good girl. But I would prefer you address me as Matron, and I promise that I will take good care of you. All you need to do is listen to Mother and be a good girl. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Matron,” I said, nuzzling her hand.

“She’s lying, Matron,” the boyish woman stated. “Look at her eyes. Barely a tremble in her voice. The smile is staged, and so is the affection. She’s putting on an act and thinks she can deceive us.”

Shock flashed through me before I could lock it down. Their eyes told me I’d already betrayed myself. I’d played my part well; this was either part of the routine for girls who folded too quickly, or she was exceptionally good at reading people. I’d been wondering what her role was. Now I knew, she was the analyst who sat between good and bad cop, judging every girl's performance in the moment.

Matron withdrew her hand. “You think so, Trainer?” she asked the boyish woman. She then turned back to me, her voice was syrupy, “Sweet girl… Why would you lie to Mother?”

I needed a moment to strategize, saying nothing would buy me a few moments. Protesting innocence would probably fail, I considered other options, only to have Mistress explode while I juggled more lies.

“Oh, now the clever cunt has nothing to say?” she snarled. “Answer or I’ll whip that pale ass raw. I’ll stripe your tits and your worthless cunt until you’re sobbing and begging to be a good girl. And when your skin is split open and bleeding, I’ll make you thank me for every single lash while you crawl. Do you understand me, you lying piece of fuckmeat?”

The Matron studied me closely, her head tilted, giving off a false sense of maternal warmth. “What’s your name, girl?”

“Selene, Matron,” I said carefully. Mistress looked ready to use her crop at the slightest infraction.

“Selene…” Matron said, testing my name out. “It’s odd. Soft... But unsettling.”

“It’s a foreign name, from beyond the fringe,” Trainer said.

Matron waved a hand dismissively, “It won’t do. We can’t have Master tripping over such a name. What should we call her?”

Yup, part of the playbook. They meant to rename me as part of identity erosion. The Navy had done the same to me ages ago. You spend your whole life being Selene, then one day everyone is barking Renatta at you. Even though it was my last name, it was enough to make me reconsider who I was as a person. Exactly what they wanted to do to me now.

“Vessi,” said Trainer after a moment of thought.

Mistress laughed cruelly, “Yes. Vessi the pink sheath.”

Matron considered it for a long moment, then smiled with deep satisfaction. “Vessi the Pale Sheath. Yes. That suits this soft, pale slave perfectly.”

The words simmered in betrayal. Especially coming from someone so motherly. I was no longer Selene. I was now Vessi the Pale Sheath. It was a name that reduced me to nothing more than a hole for men to use.

She cupped my chin gently. “Say it, sweet girl. Tell us your name.”

I had no choice, especially with Mistress, who was eager to whip me bloody. “I am Vessi the Pale Sheath.”

But I knew exactly who I was right now. Selene Renatta, Federated Naval Officer working for the Bureau and on a mission to stop a dangerous criminal named Drayce, who fled to this primitive world. Right now, they were letting me try on the name they’d given me like a new coat. Soon, though, they’d be making me answer while overloading my senses, so that each time it was said, it would become true. To them, my real name sounded odd. I made it my anchor.

“Inspect,” Matron said firmly. The soft tone hadn’t completely gone out of her voice, but it was obvious she meant for me to obey without hesitation.

I leaped up into the inspection pose, hand behind my neck, chest thrust forward humiliatingly, and feet spread wide. I tipped my head down, not wanting to give Mistress an excuse to use the crop again.

Walking around me, Matron mused as her fingers traveled across my bare skin, “Unfortunate that they brought her naked. Stripping a new girl of her clothing helps her understand that she is leaving behind all her old things.”

“We could shave her head,” Mistress smiled wickedly at me. Bad cop seemed to come naturally to her. I had to wonder if there was some self-loathing propping it up.

“She’s been a good girl. There’s no need to take everything from her. And look how well she behaves.” Matron slowly circled me, her fingers trailed lightly over my bare skin. When her hand slid up my side to brush the underside of my breast, my body betrayed me with a visible shiver. Heat flooded between my legs despite my mind reeling in disgust. I hated how easily she could make me react. She was telling me without words that she knew my body better than I did.

“Vessi likes being touched,” Trainer said.

“Do you?” Matron’s warm hands slid slowly up my sides. She was possessive and gentle, as if she already owned every inch of me. When she cupped my breasts and her thumbs brushed across my stiff nipples, a humiliating wave of heat shot through my core. I hated how quickly my body betrayed me under her touch. I closed my eyes, fighting my traitorous body as the burning trails lit me from the inside. “Look at me, Vessi.”

I opened my eyes, hoping desperately that she would stop touching me so gently. Her fingertips circled my traitorously hard nipple, sending a flush of heat straight down between my legs. I bit my lip, mortified at the soft, needy sound that escaped me. My body was responding to this woman’s gentle touch after days of rough male hands, and the shame of it made me even wetter. I’d never entertained a sapphic relationship, or even played before, really, back when I had choice. It wasn’t frowned upon in civilized space. I’d just never had any interest. Being touched so gently after several days of manhandling had an effect on my body that I found humiliating in so many ways that men with all their mauling could not evoke.

Her caresses stoked fires that shot all the way down into my spine. I had a sudden urge to fall to my knees, arms wrapped tightly around her, just to make her stop playing with me. I wanted to beg.

“Vessi is a good girl,” Matron said, then added quickly to Trainer, “Bring her clothing.”

Part of me hoped that I’d be allowed to wear my jumpsuit again. Realistically, though, I knew it was part of my old identity, the thing they were busy destroying. They gathered to touch it and admire the strange stretchy fabric, but in the end, they didn’t disappoint.

“Follow. Arms in Inspect,” Matron said, leading me to a brazier on one side of the courtyard. Coals inside it burned, and my stomach sank as we approached. Trainer guided me up to the metal brazier so that I could feel waves of heat on my belly.

Matron cupped my cheek and turned my head to look at her. “The old you dies here, today. Your clothing has been removed, and Vessi is all that remains.”

Trainer handed Matron my flight suit. When she held it out, I snatched it away and clutched it to me. “Vessi will now place her old life in the fire and be reborn.”

It was the last one. My other jumpsuit had been shredded by Drayce and his men. The smooth, slippery weave of it felt like home, and the last thing I wanted to do was destroy that link. Knowing there was a better world beyond this one while I was mired here in degradation after degradation, knotted my stomach.

With shaking hands, I shoved my last flight suit into the flames. As the fabric began to melt and blacken, I felt something inside me whimper. I was watching the final piece of who I used to be burn away while standing naked in front of three women who would remold what remained. The worst part was the small, shameful throb between my legs when Matron stroked my back and whispered, “Good girl.”

I watched as the last of my old life smoldered to ash. The synthetic fabric curled just like my resolve under their expectant stares. It perfectly represented my situation here right now. A slow burn that would eventually take everything away.

“Well done, Vessi,” Matron purred, sliding a possessive arm around my waist. She pulled me against her soft body. Her other hand moved to rest just below my breast, thumb idly stroking my skin. “Such a good girl already. Let us begin your training.”

I stood there naked, burning with shame as fresh wetness slicked my thighs. I knew the breaking had just begun.