10 - Kennel

Content Warning: Slavery, Non-con, lesbian, Humiliation, Degradation, Body Betrayal, Identity Erosion, Sci-fi

“Come along, Vessi,” Matron whispered to me, “We need to get you ready.”

She took my arm and turned me around gently, then guided me across the courtyard. On the other side, Mistress and Trainer waited by the stone trough. Mistress had a bucket in hand and a wicked smile on her face.

When Mother stopped, I braced myself as Mistress splashed the bucket across my bare skin. The icy water chilled me to the bone and ripped a deep gasp from me. I couldn’t help but hunch into myself, trying to fight the chill.

“Easy now, Vessi,” Matron said while placing a warm hand on my lower back. Her other hand went to my shoulders, pressing me back into a proper posture. “Mother knows it's cold, but we need to get you properly clean. Inspect, Vessi. Don’t forget yourself.”

I forced myself up and laced my fingers behind my head. While I shivered, Matron washed my skin with deliberate care, running it across my back, arms, chest, down my belly, and finally between my legs. My nipples hardened from the combination of the attention from the sponge and the cool water drying on my skin. Matron noticed and caressed them with her thumb.

“Look at these pretty little peaks, Vessi,” she said with genuine affection. “They’re so sensitive. So attentive. That's such a lovely gift. It means you’ll be able to give your master so much pleasure. A woman’s true happiness is in serving her man. Wouldn’t you agree? Obeying him and giving him comfort… That's where we belong.”

At first, I’d thought it was all an act. The gentle voice, the maternal tone, they were meant to disarm and lure the unsuspecting in. Just a cynical tool to break women faster. The more she spoke, however, the more disturbing it was. I was beginning to suspect that she truly believed every word. The sincerity was more frightening to me than the cutting stare of Mistress or Trainer’s watchful silence. How could a woman come to believe this? Or accept it? Given enough time… Could I? Never, I swore. It would be the death of me before I believed such things.

Matron continued washing me, spending far too much time between my legs. When I bit my lower lip to fight my shakes, Trainer stated, “She enjoys it.”

I closed my eyes as Matron asked, “Do you, Vessi?”

“No, Matron,” I said. I wasn’t lying. She was skilled in eliciting a response from my body, but I was not enjoying being used like this. The sponge vanished, and fingers took its place, gently rubbing my labia.

“A lie.” Trainer stated, “She’s quivering… Not from the cold.”

“You don’t enjoy this?” Matron asked. “Would you prefer Mistress wash you?”

Stars no. While I’m certain Mistress would do the exact same thing, I knew she’d touch me only in an effort to make me feel weak. With Matron at least, it seemed as if she meant the touch to somehow be comforting. I fought with myself trying to decide which was worse, both touches would be against my will, but choosing the more pleasant of the two almost felt like consenting to this treatment.

“I prefer your touch, Matron,” I said, trying to hide the tremble in my voice.

“You were right, Trainer, she is a clever girl,” Matron said, her slippery finger sliding up to make little circles around my clit. I could feel my thighs quivering and hated that it was impossible to just endure her touch without my body betraying me.

She took me right to the edge, then suddenly stopped, leaving me panting and trying to hide it. With my hands behind my head, it was impossible to stop her fingers from leaving. From leaving me cold and aching. What sort of woman would want such a thing? I tensed my thighs, trying to back away from the edge Matron had taken me to.

Handing the sponge back, she held her hands out as Trainer poured oil from the jar. Matron turned back to me, looking me in the eyes while she reached up and ran her hands through my thick, wavy hair. She worked the oil in, her fingers combing deeper through my mane. The gentle tugging on my scalp felt good, relaxing, which only made me tense up waiting to be touched regenously again. She leaned into me, our chests together separated only by strips of silk. Her warmth radiated into me, and I wanted so badly to melt into it. She spent a long time working oil into my hair, and by the time she was finished, my body felt limp and ready to relax into a pile in front of her. She spent less time applying oil to my body, and I was in such bliss that the time spent flew by.

“There we are, sweet Vessi,” she said with quiet pride when finished. She gently patted my oiled bottom. “All soft and glowing. You’re going to make such a lovely sheath for a strong man. Come along now, my girl. Time to meet your new sisters.”

Matron walked towards the barn, expecting me to follow, and I did, practically floating. I assumed my sisters were the other trainees as she led. The other two followed, and I was glad I hadn’t done anything to incur Mistress’ wrath. I kept my arms up, staying in Inspect, just in case.

Trainer darted ahead and pulled back a heavy metal bar, then opened one of a set of large double doors. Before I followed Matron in, I was greeted with the smell of hay, animals, and strong florals. I stood a moment too long, trying to unpack all the odors, and Mistress gave me a hard shove, sending me inside.

Like the courtyard, the floor was hard-packed dirt, but it had been covered with a thin layer of straw. The room that greeted me only took up about a quarter of the barn, a wall had been erected separating the rest of the space, for animals, I guessed, judging by the smell. There was no furniture in the space at all except for a massive mattress just off the center, with a pile of cushions and a few blankets. Seven women, all naked, lay on the mattress quietly talking.

All eyes turned to look at me. Seven sets. All looking at my naked, oiled body. Their chatting died instantly.

Matron took my arm by the elbow and pulled me forward. Pressing a firm, warm hand to my back, she nudged me toward the lounging women who’d all been chatting quietly.

“Girls, listen to Mother,” Matron said with a soft voice that carried authority. “This is Vessi, your new sister. As you can see, she’s a foreigner, and a little nervous tonight, so I expect you all to be kind and welcoming. Help her learn our ways quickly.”

She looked around at the group with a tender smile. No one moved or spoke. I wasn’t sure if they were afraid of her, or of Mistress looming behind us.

“Remember why you are here. All of you are being prepared to become good, obedient sheaths for strong men. Vessi is no different. Help her understand her place. Be warm to her… but not too soft. She must learn quickly if she is to be ready in six weeks.”

Matron gave my oiled shoulder a final affectionate squeeze. “Be a good girl for your sisters, sweet Vessi.”

With that, she stepped back, closed the heavy door behind her, and the iron bar squealed back into place.

Dim light burned from an oil lantern hanging from a beam. It was enough light that I could see the women on the cushions all considering me, some with brazen looks that could be described as hungry. I didn’t like feeling like a little fish thrown into a pond of bigger ones.

Two of the women turned to look at an Amazon with dirty-blonde hair. She had the smug look of a girl with too much confidence, and the physique to enforce her will. She nodded at me, whispered something to her lackeys, and they all snickered.

On the other side of the expanse of cushion, a woman with dark hair and eyes watched me closely. She was the big spoon of an intwined couple. She patted her partner on the hip and rose with quick grace. She didn't have the imposing body of the blonde, but she was analyzing me carefully.

The blonde, seeing another woman rise, also rose, lumbering up as her two cohorts scampered out of her way. She smiled, but not in a way that was friendly, “Damned… This one practically glows… Her skin is so pale.”

The woman with the dark hair eyed the blonde warily. There was some sort of drama between the two, that much I could tell from this brief encounter. “Matron said to treat her gently, Lira. You wouldn’t want to break their new doll the first night.” She then turned her dark eyes to me, “You are such a pretty thing, what did they call you before they named you Vessi?”

I didn’t like how these two advanced on me at all. The other five girls remained on the mattress, watching as they lounged, although they were all sitting up and anxious now. This must be some sort of power struggle, and these two were contenders for top girl. I had no idea how much the trainers watched and listened, so I stood my ground but decided to play it safe. “I am Vessi now.”

Lira flipped a strand of her blonde hair back and then grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip. “Doesn’t matter now. Come here, girl, you’re sleeping in the middle tonight.” She yanked me forward with a smug grin.

Even though I’d never used the move outside of a Bureau self-defense course, my body took over without thought.

With a twist, I rotated my wrist sharply toward the weakest point, which was her thumb, and dropped my elbow while stepping in close. The move used her own grip strength against her. Her fingers broke open with a surprised grunt. I was stunned at how the muscle memory seemed to come out of nowhere.

I pulled free smoothly and took one measured step back, keeping my posture balanced and my eyes locked on hers. There was a shocked hush, with the only sound in the room being the two quiet women scrambling to the furthest edges of the mattress.

Stay calm. Just breathe. This is only another hostile situation. But my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. I’d just openly challenged the strongest girl here on my very first night. Stars, what have I done? Void! This is not at all how I wanted to start my time in this place, humiliating one trainee who was obviously positioning herself as the leader of the pack. Her physical stature and attempt at bodily intimidation made her a brute in my mind. And I’d just denied her an easy win in front of the entire cohort.

The dark-haired woman laughed, “Watch yourself, Lira, this kitten has teeth.”

Lira’s face smoldered with humiliation. The two women she’d been lounging with rose to their feet, forming up behind her. “Stay out of the Sylra…”

Sylra, the dark-haired woman, padded across the mattress towards me. She stopped an arm's length away and turned back to the Amazon. The woman she’d been sitting with also stood. There were three of us standing our ground against three of them. “Matron said, treat her kindly.”

What had I stirred up? The entire situation was far more complex than anything the men had thrown at me. Were these men, I’d already be on my back, spread, and completely at their mercy. Had the dark-haired Sylra not come to my aid, I wondered if the same might have happened. My thoughts went back to our first night on this world, Jaxon taking a savage beating to defend me. I might have instinctively snapped my wrist away from Lira, but had she come at me in force, I certainly would have yielded. What did that say for any hope of me getting through all this and still being Commander Selene Renatta? Jaxon would fight to retain independence to the bitter end. I was already too eager to comply in order to avoid confrontation. And the trainer was capitalizing on that. Even without them here, this was another tool in their arsenal to break us down into the compliant vessels they wanted.

“Get over here, Ryx,” Lira snarled as she turned away. One of the quiet girls who shied away from the conflict walked with her head bowed across the mattress. Lira grabbed her by the arm and shoved her down. Lira’s orbiters laughed, forming around the helpless victim, the three of them pinning down the girl in an instant.

The message was clear: loners get abused. A sickening feeling grew in my stomach knowing that I was the cause of that girl's abuse as the three women slapped and mocked her. Lira descended onto the woman's face, telling her to perform as she was smothered. There was no way I could intervene, and at a glance, it didn’t look like Sylra and her woman were going to do anything either.

“Join us,” Sylra offered. “You can sleep tonight without worry of being smothered under a pillow.”

Sylra and her friend found a spot just an arm's length from the other girls and lay down. It was so close to the woman being abused and three tormenting her that it was impossible to ignore. I felt terrible for Ryx, who was paying for my defiance. The knot in my stomach burned from disgust to simmering anger. It was bad enough that men imposed this disgusting hierarchy, but seeing caged women turn on each other like this was revolting.

I approached the corner where Sylra and her friend were lying, moving to the other side as far as possible from the other women who were laughing as they slapped and forced their victim to please them. I had to look away or risk retching.

“You can share blankets with us,” Sylra said. The other woman was nuzzled in her armpit, cozying up closely and running along Sylra’s body. The friend gave me a jealous look as Sylra continued, “It gets cold at night. You want a blanket or another body to keep from shivering.”

“There aren’t enough blankets for everyone?” I asked, sitting down close, but not touching. The mattress was surprisingly soft, but thin; I could feel the cold, hard dirt floor beneath it.

Before Sylra answered, I already knew the answer. We were in a literal barn, with animals just on the other side of a thin wall. We weren’t humans, we were trainees. Animals didn’t need blankets. A limited number would force competition and group cohesion. We’d be fighting for and forming bonds for the limited resources.

“We haven’t earned them. Some of the girls are dragging us down,” Sylra explained.

“And they don’t care about… sapphic…” I was struggling to find the words for what was happening at the other corner.

Sylra looked at me, perplexed. “You are a foreign girl. Men desire our use, but it you want an embrace, best to seek it in the arms of a sister.”

Her saying it made sudden sense. Men wanted low-maintenance women; having women turn to each other for emotional care freed men’s time. The women of this world were literally toys to be used and forgotten. All emotional care needed was provided by other women.

She turned to the girl, stroking her and whispered, “Vessi, our new friend, stood up to Lira. She’s earned a reward. Give her your mouth, Mira.”

Mira’s face twisted to shock, betrayal, and jealousy all in a flash. She paused a moment until Sylra nudged her. Mira sat up with a soft sigh and climbed over Sylra towards me.

I froze up. Mira approached and sat back on her knees in front of me, then gently guided me back.

“I don’t need a reward,” I said quickly.

“Shhh,” Sylra hushed me. “You’ve earned it. Let her thank you properly.”

I was pushed back, and my knees pulled apart. If I insisted, I might lose my new ally, she was, after all, sharing her plaything with me. How could I make them understand that women weren’t just things to be used? That we were people? The thought felt ridiculous the moment it formed. Here I was, legs spread, letting one of them pleasure me for protection.

Mira looked up at me from between my bent knees. Her face said it all, she was not happy, but a lifetime of cultural conditioning made her comply willingly. This was the first time since the crash landing that the roles had been reversed on me, and my mind was reeling, scrambling desperately to make sense of what was happening to me.

It was just physical contact. I could endure this. Stay detached. The thought sounded pathetic even in my own head.

When her tongue caressed me, my jaw stiffened. I had to choke back a whimper as I gripped the mattress in both fists. My gaze went to the glowing lantern hanging above on a beam. When she finally ran her flat tongue across my clit my thighs tensed, gripping her between them. I was now part of the system of abuse. Not just for Mira between my legs, but for poor Ryx, who was being roughly abused by the others. I told myself this was just a strategy and that I needed an ally. But it was a lie. My body was already responding, growing slick and eager despite everything I wanted.

A hand touched my belly and slid up between my breasts, making a trail of fire that made my hips twitch. Sylra rolled into me, propping her head up on a hand as her other explored my body. The soft touch was so alien, so uniquely different than the rough hands that had mauled me for days that I couldn’t suppress a series of shuddering gasps.

When her fingers captured one of my nipples, I turned to look directly into her eyes. A wicked smile was on her lips for only a moment, then she leaned in, kissing me. I opened my mouth, letting her invade me, struggling to remember if I’d been kissed during any of my use over the last several days. It was my first kiss in a long, long time, and I hated that I melted into it with a groan. Mira between my thighs slurped noisily as I felt myself gush with all this gentle attention.

The shame was so thick I could barely breathe. I was a victim, yet my body kept betraying me, aching and wet for the softest scrap of kindness like some desperate, broken thing. I’d read about the psychology of trauma, that the experience was so emotionally transformative that victims often fantasized and sought out similar treatment afterward.

I felt like I was floating outside myself, watching a stranger moan and tremble under their hands. That stranger was me. I dug my fingers into the thin mattress, fighting the horrifying urge to grab Mira by the hair and pull her harder against me, forcing her face deeper into me, using her like I’d been used, gratifying myself with her reluctant tongue. Who was I? I was becoming exactly what I’d been trying to fight against.

Then the orgasm hit me. Otherworldly. Not of my body. It sent me floating in a way I’d never experienced as a free woman. It was so singular, utterly devastating that I bucked violently, crying out in the night so loudly I was sure I’d wake everyone in the nearby house. That was if the trainers weren’t already watching us. Whatever they thought of this situation, it was nowhere near as depraved as I now saw myself.

For one horrible second, I felt good,  safe, wanted, warm. Then the shame crashed down so hard I wanted to vomit. How could I feel even a trace of comfort in this? What had I done? I’d allowed a victim to be coerced into pleasing me. I was becoming a monster, like all the other denizens of this world. How could I possibly return home and walk down a promenade after being used and using others as mere sex objects?

I lay there trembling, attempting to steady my breathing. The warmth of Sylra’s body against mine felt sickeningly comforting. For one shameful second, I wanted to curl into her and hide from everything. Then the self-loathing hit.

What the hell was wrong with me?

My mind spiraled. The implants recorded every moan. Every twitch of pleasure. All of it would be reviewed one day by people who used to respect me. The thought made my stomach knot violently. I was supposed to be better than this. Stronger. Instead, I came harder than I had in years while two broken slaves used my body.

A worse thought suddenly occurred, what if Jaxon preferred this? What if Jaxon saw me right now? Would he still look at me with respect… or would he finally see me as something easy to own? The thought worried me that he might like this version of me more. Six weeks of this and there would be no Commander left, just a pathetic slave girl eager to drop to her knees and perform for her master.

I loathed and dreaded what that journey would look like. Fourty two more nights of this. Of using others. Of being used. And even darker… What would my peers think when the recordings were played? Ever moan. Every heartbeat. Every loud, messy orgasm on full display for everyone to see while I sat there in my dress uniform pretending to be a civilized human. The recording would prove I was the same as all these other women, a cunt aching to be wanted and used. I’d once been a person; now I was falling into something else.

I was disgusting.

I lay there for a while, trembling, staring up at the lantern hanging from the beam. My chest heaved with each unsteady breath. The shame sat burned in my throat like bile. I had come harder than I had in years… while two broken women used me. While another girl was being punished because of me.

And yet, when Sylra whispered “You were so lovely” and kissed my cheek, something inside me cracked.

I knew it was performative. I knew she was only strengthening her position in this wretched little hierarchy. But her arms were warm. Her skin was soft. Her touch didn’t bruise or demand. For the first time in days, someone was holding me like I was wanted instead of just owned.

I hated myself for how desperately I needed that.

Before I could stop myself, I threw an arm around her and pulled her closer. I kissed her forcefully, shoving my tongue past her soft lips, clinging to the only scrap of human connection I had in this barn. It might be an act. It might be another layer of my own degradation.

But right now, it was the only thing that made me feel like I still existed.