Duty, Honor, Country       by: Brandy Dewinter

 

Chapter 7 - Trance?

True to Marilyn’s revelation to Sandy, the team departed two days later. They traveled in their trios by separate airlines and routes, but arrived in the country nearest El Supremo’s after two more days. The girls wandered around as tourists for a while, gradually approaching the city nearest the border to El Supremo’s poor nation. This was the city from which most of the abductions had occurred. The teams made a habit of their actions once they reached their target city, each trio usually going to the same restaurant at the same time for supper and by the same route. It was only a matter of time before they were kidnapped, and it turned out to be not very much time.

Marilyn’s soft voice whispered a warning to Carol and Sandy as they walked to their hotel one dark evening, "Here they come. Remember, nothing fancy. We can struggle, but don’t really win."

She had seen shadows converging in the predatory tactic that had worked with such terrible effect on Sandy. The other two saw the same flickers in the dim light and tried to maintain the light-hearted attitude they had been demonstrating. They might not have been completely successful, but the attackers continued their advance so their acting skills were sufficient to meet the need. El Supremo’s minions left nothing to chance, with two men assigned to each of the three women. Their approach showed the efficiency of long practice. One man grabbed a woman’s arms, then, as she opened her mouth to scream, another popped a ball gag into place and it was quickly cinched tight. Once silenced, they proceeded to add additional bonds at their leisure. In seconds it was all over. Each girl was shackled with fur-lined leather cuffs at her wrists. A wide strap pulled her elbows cruelly together. Only the flexibility they had worked so hard to obtain allowed their elbows to touch without tearing shoulder ligaments. Other straps were drawn about their ankles and just above their knees, leaving them completely unable to move, barely able to breathe, yet padded from any damage to sensitive feminine skin. The final indignity was a soft but very effective blindfold, leaving them isolated in their helplessness. Or so the captors thought, this team would never be completely helpless. When the flurry died down the team could hear one of the soldiers muttering curses.

"Shut up," another voice commanded.

"This red-headed bitch bit my fingers, and tried to unman me with those boots she’s wearing," the muttering voice complained.

Another voice with laughter in its tone replied, "Then keep your fingers out of the mouth that bites, you fool, and you never were enough of a man to miss anything important."

"I’ll put something important in the mouth without teeth all right, if this bitch gives me any more trouble."

The bound women could sense a sudden stillness in their captors, except for the two that were joking. The command voice spoke again, this time fierce with menace, "Listen you fool. Don’t even talk about that. You’re new, but I was here the last time someone was caught violating one of Maximum Leader’s captives. Sometimes he waits at the harem when the girls are delivered. This time, he sensed something and had the captives examined, cunt, ass, and stomach. He found traces of man-seed in one of the women, it might even have been her boyfriend’s from before she was taken. Maximum Leader didn’t care. He had the entire capture team castrated and blinded, then had their hands cut off. Then he let them loose in the harem. I understand they took a long, long time to die under the tender care of the harem girls. You treat these women like fragile dolls or I’ll kill you myself."

Well, Sandy thought, that’s at least a little assurance we won’t be harmed right away, although the painful pull at her elbows, the cramps that had already started in her distended jaw were constant reminders that no harm did not equate to comfort. They next heard a crackle as though from a radio. Static prevented them from really making out the other end of the conversation, especially in a foreign tongue, but the affirmative tones of the leader from their end indicated success. In a few minutes a vehicle pulled up and the women were piled into the back. Once again, no harm was shown not to be the same as no pain as they were unceremoniously dumped in random positions on top of the soft bodies that were already inside. Squirming to try and find a less-uncomfortable position with their knees and elbows welded together wasn’t too successful, but it was enough to confirm that the other trio had also been kidnapped. Bound, gagged, and blindfolded, they began their journey into El Supremo’s country, or as he had his own men call him, Maximum Leader.

Even in their sensory isolation, it was obvious when they crossed the border. The roads got worse. It was just as obvious when the got near the palace that Maximum Leader maintained. The roads got better. Rank has its privileges. The ride took hours, or days, or some indeterminate time that they couldn’t judge in their darkness. But eventually the vehicle stopped and the six members of the team were being slung over masculine shoulders and carried to a place where they were set carefully on their feet. They had to struggle to maintain their balance in their bondage, teetering on still-towering heels without the opportunity to move even their toes to readjust their equilibrium.

A woman’s voice started speaking to them, in moderately-accented but perfectly-understandable English, though devoid of emotion in a monotonous litany that bespoke excess repetitions. "Welcome to the service of Maximum Leader. You have been chosen by your beauty for the privilege of easing the terrible hardships imposed on our Maximum Leader by his unending toils for his people. Our rules are simple. First, keep yourselves beautiful. It reflects poorly on me if Maximum Leader finds his servants inadequately attractive. You will find cosmetics, clothes, exercise facilities, and whatever else you need. Each of you already knows that beauty is as much an internal as an external condition. If you mope or sulk or act unattractively, you will be unattractive. This is not permitted."

"The second rule is that you must keep yourself inviolate except with our Maximum Leader, and with him you release yourself completely for his pleasure. Only when allowed by the Maximum Leader will you enjoy your bodies. When he requests relief from his terrible strain, you will be provided to him and you will please him. Utterly. Any hesitation to comply with any need he expresses is not permitted."

"Third, you will destroy any man you see who is not in the company of Maximum Leader. You will find adequate weapons in the area to assist you, but if necessary you will use teeth and nails and your own bodies to attack. Hesitation or concern for your own persons is not permitted."

"There are other rules for special services that will be explained as they apply."

"Penalties for breaking these rules are immediate, harsh, and usually fatal. Penalties for even attempting to leave the service of Maximum Leader are as harsh and as protracted before being fatal as we can devise, and we have had long practice. As of this moment, your old lives are over. Welcome to your new lives."

Hands removed the blindfolds from the new harem slaves. Their eyes went to the source of the message they had just received to find a woman that was not nearly as boring as her voice has indicated. Her age was indeterminate, clearly older than the team, but whether 40 or 90 was impossible to tell. She was petite in a way that invoked the image of a hard kernel of diamond, all that was left when any softness had been chipped away. There was also an arrogance about her, one that said she had such absolute power over others that her whim was equivalent to a god’s. It glittered in her black eyes, an unashamed arrogance that said her eyes were a true window to her black heart. Small wonder that most new girls would be intimidated, but the closeness of the team resulted in a common assessment of her that was different than most girls. Though they didn’t know of their community of thought at the time, as each girl saw their harem mistress the thought ran through their minds of the equally-arrogant first comments of the eventually-pathetic instructor they had known as El Supremo. It firmed their resolve far beyond anything this woman hoped to accomplish in diminishing their self-respect.

Once the new captives were able to see, he woman continued, "I am Skuda. Do each of you understand these rules and agree to abide by them? I remind you that disobedience is not permitted, in any event, but you will be granted greater freedom if you promise to do your best to obey."

She looked first to Marilyn, even with the flawless perfection of her makeup she was clearly a little older than the near-teen team members and probably the de facto leader of the captives. Marilyn nodded abruptly. At that point a harem girl that had been standing to the side came forward and began to remove her leg bindings and the cruel strap around her elbows. The harem mistress looked at the others in approximate age order and received a nod from each, finishing with Sandy. Each was released enough to walk and to avoid the extreme discomfort of the elbow binding, but none were freed entirely from their bonds.

"You will wear your gags until tomorrow morning, also your wrists will remain bound. This is to allow you time to contemplate your new situation and to let you know the tiniest aspect of the discomfort that will be yours for any disobedience. At dawn, any girl in the harem is allowed to release you. Dismissed."

With that, the harem mistress and all the hangers-on who had been in the room simply left. The team stood for a moment, jaws aching, arms trying to flex with the small additional freedom granted. Then, with a shrug, Marilyn turned to follow the departing women. It was already past midnight, surely. Dawn was only a few hours away. The new residents wandered around through the rest of the night, apparently aimless. No one would expect them to try and relax on their first night, especially with the ever-increasing agony in their jaws and with their awkward arms. In fact, rather than helplessly wallowing in their suffering, the team was reconnoitering the palace just as they had originally planned, though with a little less ease. Even Carol, constrained by the six-inch heels on her boots to an infinite series of tiny strides, covered all of her objectives. After additional eons a dim glow appeared in the sky, and finally a sliver of sun. Each girl found an unbound woman to remove her final restraints and gratefully stretched before finding an equally necessary set of facilities. They were able to hide their uniqueness easily enough before taking advantage of the scattered cosmetics to repair the ravages of their capture. Selecting appropriate nightgowns from the arrays of clothing, they found each other again, then retired to a convenient bedroom to catch up on some sleep.

The harem mistress seemed to have forgotten them when they got up that evening. It was important to keep a low profile so they worked out, dressed beautifully, and ate quietly, all to send signals of acceptance and lack of threat. However, it was reasonable for the newest slaves to find comfort in each other’s company so their many whispered conferences were actually detailed planning sessions. All was as they expected. The only unknown was the exact schedule for those in the biowar lab to retire on any given night. It wouldn’t do to break into the lab and find technicians everywhere. They spent a few days trying to get a lead on what went on behind the door they knew led to the lab.

Finally, Marilyn gathered the team together and said, "It’s tonight. The techs will vacate the key lab and should be out of the hallways by 11:00. There’s a big VIP shindig tomorrow and everything is supposed to be neat and tidy. We’ll meet at the entrance at 11:30. Bring only silent weapons. Any questions?"

"How did you find that out?" Vanna asked.

"Sorry, you don’t need to know," replied Marilyn.

There was a hurt look in Vanna’s eyes, mirrored in the other four enlisted members of the team. After all they had been through together, keeping secrets seemed wrong. But, as always, Marilyn was doing what was best. Tonight was a time for military precision, military discipline. Acting out their strange roles had often required informality and a camaraderie that was normally forbidden between enlisted and officer. Tonight, they were back in the Army.

It shouldn’t have been surprising to find out that all the available clothes available were in vibrant colors, all the shoes were delicate and uncomfortable, all the skirts too tight for easy fighting. The girls chose the best options that they could find, short skirts with high slits in the darkest colors to be found, and went barefoot. They met at the antechamber to the biowar lab on schedule to see the first of the chain-girls that guarded the entrance. She slumped in her bonds, a tight blindfold concealing her eyes, a tight mitten surrounding her fingers and locked to a chain so short she had no choice but the kneel, or perhaps lie on the floor. As expected, there was a wire leading from her mitten to the door.

Constance took up her position at the external door to the antechamber. Since she couldn’t pass the gate she would safeguard their position at this point. The others looked at each other, then Marilyn squared her shoulders and stepped to the chain-girl. Without a word, since though she could lower her voice her accent might be revealing, she gently lifted the blind head of the chain-girl and stepped before her. Raising her skirt (invisible to the chain-girl) she placed her incongruous tool between the bound captive’s lips. Like an automaton, the girl began sucking and stroking on Marilyn’s erection. In moments, she was rewarded, if that’s the right term, with Marilyn’s seed. Almost as a reflex, her hands clenched and the airlock door into the inner sanctum opened. Marilyn darted through the opening, not sure how long the opportunity would last. It turned out not to be a problem as long as she moved steadily, since the weight of her feet on the floor of the airlock triggered the door to close behind her. Once she was in place the inner door opened and Marilyn looked out on the first corridor in the biowar lab. She had decided that they would gather in this area to make sure that everyone made it through before moving on, so it was a tense few moments until the next members of her team made their own way through the airlock, each paying a unique deposit.

"All right," Marilyn said as Sandy finally passed through. "We’re in. Quickly now, and quiet."

They padded off down the corridor. None carried guns since there were no silenced weapons in the harem, but all had an edged weapon of lethal capability. Vanna had demonstrated a talent for knife-throwing almost as spectacular as Sandy’s talent for cosmetics and looked like an incredibly beautiful new species of porcupine with all the sharp edges protruding from her clothes. The first person they saw was another blindfolded chain-girl, posted outside the entrance to the techs’ rest quarters, according to a sign on the wall. Her mouth looked bruised, a sign of how many men had passed so quickly and so brutally through her portal. Still, it looked like their information was correct and that the techs had indeed retired for the night. The graceful assault team passed noiselessly by the slumping girl, close enough to realize she was sobbing quietly to herself in her blind isolation, but helpless to relieve her from her sentence.

Unknown to the team, Constance was no longer at her station. As soon as the Sandy had passed through the first airlock, Constance had departed for the main part of the harem. She passed quickly through room after room until she finally got to a room that none of the team had entered, the room where survivors of punishment were "stored" until they either lived or died. Inside, she moved to a dark-haired girl that moaned fitfully in her sleep.

"Connie," Constance whispered, "Connie, wake up."

When the sleeping girl’s face turned toward the dim light from the hallway, it could be seen that she was still as beautiful as the standards set for harem slaves. The damage to her had been kept away from her face. If she healed, it would be to once again take her helpless place in the harem. More importantly, it could be seen that her face was a mirror of the one bending over her. She was the image of Constance, so similar that it could be seen in an instant that they must be twins. In another instant, though, you could see that they weren’t quite twins. The Connie that was lying down was somehow softer than the one leaning over her. Her face had more gentle curves, still elegant, but not quite as sharply-featured. Her chin was a more delicate pixie point, her neck just a bit more slender and swan-like. It took a minute for her eyes to focus on the face bending over her. When they did, she jerked back.

"Who are you?" she demanded, whispering rather than shouting out of some reflexive concurrence with the tension in Constance.

Who wasn’t really Constance. The most elegant member of the assault team smiled and in a voice that none of the team had ever heard said, "What’s the matter, Connie, don’t you recognize your own brother?"

"Daniel? What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?"

"I’ve come to get you out. There’s no other way to move around in here, so I decided to become you. I’ve got some friends to help us, the ones you’ve been sending your data to. Now, can you move?"

"For a chance to get out of this hellhole, I’ll fly," the real Connie said, but she winced as she tried to sit up.

Daniel helped her to her feet, asking, "What did you do to get punished?"

"Well, you know I’ve been making minor infractions in order to get assigned chain-girl duty so I could see what goes on inside. I left my hair disheveled this morning thinking I’d get another stint in the lab. Instead, that Skuda bitch decided I needed more of a lesson. I think she broke two of my ribs."

With the help of her disguised brother, she gingerly rose to her feet. With broken ribs, he couldn’t even lift her, or throw her arm over his slender shoulders. He could just offer her an arm to lean on as much as she could. They made their slow way back through the rooms Constance, that is Daniel, had traversed so quickly, eventually coming once again to the ante-room to the biowar lab. The real Connie slumped to the floor out of sight, and Constance was back on guard.

Inside the lab, the team had reached the portal to the germ storage facility. Another blindfolded chain-girl guarded the entrance, but her hands were not concealed in a mitten. They were bound with wide cuffs behind her back and her elbows were pulled together with a strap like that used on new captives. Her knees were splayed around a small stool that was partially hidden by a widely-draped skirt, her only clothing. Silent glances among the team members revealed no obvious explanation, so Marilyn once again approached the strangely-erect captive. Her mouth was already at an appropriate level so Marilyn brushed her renewed erection against the full lips of the bound girl. In a motion so fast it had to be a reflex more than conscious thought, the lips of the girl surrounded Marilyn’s member and started an action made perverse by the circumstances, regardless of how loving it could be in other worlds. In moments, the team commander’s virility was again demonstrated and the door began to open, without any movement of the girl’s hands. They could see her slump a little, though, as the door revolved. Marilyn passed through quickly and Vanna, who had managed to conceal the replacement vial within her upswept hairdo took her place.

The chain-girl’s slump had returned to that strange erectness as the door of the airlock cycled shut again and she performed her unwilling duty on the second team member. Vanna was finished quickly, it would take all the team a little while to regain the skills as true lovers after these mechanical experiences, and she was soon in the doorway, once again activated in some way they couldn’t determine. It was as Jaymi stepped up to take her place that the problem occurred.

The girl seemed to gag on Jaymi’s erection, rather than just accepting it. She struggled back with her head, still strangely stiff throughout her body, until Jaymi stepped back.

"Who are you?" demanded the blindfolded girl. When she received no answer she asked again, "Who are you. I know you’re not Maximum Leader, and he told me that if ever more than two men tried to pass and he was not one of them, that I was to yell for help."

"That tears it," Carol whispered.

Sandy looked at the girl more closely. The green-eyed brunette had noticed that the girl wasn’t yelling, just demanding an explanation. She probably didn’t want to yell for help, but was afraid not to say anything in case this was some sort of a test. They had two choices, they could enlist her help, or they could render her unconscious, and they still didn’t know how the door was being worked.

"Listen," Sandy whispered, "we’re here to get you out. We need something from inside this lab, then we’ll take you with us, if you’ll help."

"We’ll all be killed," gasped the girl, but she still didn’t raise her voice.

"Not if you do what you’re told," Sandy insisted. "Now, we need to let another of us into the room. Can you just release the door?"

"I don’t think so. The trigger is my, well is in my, um, well, there’s a thing stuck up inside of me, and when I suck a guy off, I squeeze. They told me if I just squeeze without the right reason, they’ll kill me."

"There’s no one here but us, and we’re here to help. Just let our person pass, and we’ll work on getting you out of here."

"No, I still don’t trust you. No one gets by that doesn’t, well, you know."

"All right, then, do it," Sandy said in disgust at the poor girl’s confusion. Here she was involved in the ultimate disobedience, yet clung to small obediences as though that would make a difference if she were caught. It didn’t make any sense, at least, not to those who had so far escaped the depravity of Maximum Leader’s training methods. Nonetheless, Jaymi stepped back into position and was soon paying the necessary toll.

Once she was inside, she quickly explained to Marilyn what was going on. There wasn’t a corresponding chain-girl on the inside of the doorway, but there was enough of a passageway between the inner and outer doors of the airlock to guarantee no one could trip the exit door, then return inside. When no one else came through the door immediately, Marilyn realized that Sandy and Carol were going to stay outside while the inner team worked to extract the deadly culture. That wasn’t quite the plan, but taking care of the guard-girl was probably the right priority for them. She wished she had Sandy’s help deciphering some of the signs to make sure they found the right agents, though. In a few minutes, she had decided which cabinet held the key virus and Jaymi was making short work of the lock. Vanna switched the vials, no one but Marilyn realizing how much work had gone into having a correct-looking replacement. The other two were so used to Marilyn’s miracles they didn’t give it a thought. In a few more minutes, they were exiting the inner lab.

"Boss, we’ve got a problem," Sandy began, using an unaccustomed masculine tone of voice. "This station is different from the rest. The girl here, her name is Jennifer, is held to her stool by an inflatable dong that swells up inside her when the door cycles and traps her in place. It deflates when she squeezes the infernal thing hard enough, but she won’t do it unless someone feeds her. The way I see it is this. We need to trip her one more time (Sandy was talking of the poor girl as though she were as mechanical as she acted), and then get her off her throne. One of us will have to take her place or she’ll talk, sooner or later. Whoever takes her place will be stuck here until a replacement arrives, squatting with whatever that thing is inside her."

"Now, guess which one of us gets that pleasant duty," Sandy’s tone was light, but there was a lurking horror in her eyes. The team members looked at the blindfolded chain girl and saw long, dark hair that only Sandy also possessed. Her curves were also a bit more developed than any of the team except Sandy. The blindfold would hide enough of Sandy’s face that it was possible she could replace Jennifer, but clearly not possible for any of the others to do so.

"I can’t ask you to do that," Marilyn declared.

"I know, so I’m volunteering," Sandy said, now only the words seeming to be light-hearted, even her tone was betraying the dread she was trying to conceal. There was only one possible way for one of the team members to take that device inside herself while sitting on the stool, and it wasn’t up a slickly-lubricated woman’s vagina. Of all the team, only Sandy had a chance as a convincing replacement, but only Sandy had been penetrated anally in an ugly, demeaning, nearly deadly rape. The scar tissue in her tortured bottom would never again stretch without pain and she would surely be stretched by a mechanical device that wasn’t constrained by merely human dimensions. A shudder too heartfelt to hide shook her slender body, sending ripples through her long hair that accented it far beyond the amount necessary to show her concern to her sensitive team mates. But she squared her shoulders in something reminiscent of coming to attention, then stepped before Jennifer.

"All right, sister, do your thing. When you’re done, get off that pole and I’ll take your place."

The fear she felt at what was to come almost prevented Sandy from succeeding at the interim task, and she was afraid she’d have to ask for another to pay the toll, but in Jennifer’s confused mind this was her responsibility, and she managed to find a rhythm that worked for the young soldier. Or perhaps her realization that this was necessary to get her released from her position gave her added incentive. In any event, Sandy was soon doing what was required. When Jennifer left her seat, the device that was placed in the center of the stool didn’t look too bad, a bit larger than a thick finger. It was at least somewhat lubricated by Jennifer’s juices, though she had long past ceased to be stimulated by it.

"How much bigger does this thing get?" Sandy asked.

"Quite a bit," Jennifer answered nonchalantly, no longer personally involved.

"Oh joy," sighed Sandy, then moved over the disgusting device. She had removed her top and was already wearing Jennifer’s uniquely wide skirt. Lifting the skirt clear of the protruding member on the stool, she slowly lowered herself down onto the perverse bondage implement. She struggled to make her tormented muscles relax and accept the thing, but it took a long time before she felt the stool under her violated bottom.

"How is it?" Marilyn couldn’t help asking.

"Not too bad," declared Sandy with an feeble attempt at a reassuring smile. "Somebody trip the door and then you guys get out of here."

When the door started to close, the mechanical phallus inside Sandy started to grow, and to grow, and to grow. At first, she just closed her eyes and tried to maintain an outwardly calm demeanor. As it grew, so did her pain. Soon it was too much to contain and she grunted out a small sound of dismay, then a harsher moan, then a desperate gasp as inelastic scars pulled away from softer tissue. Hidden beneath her skirt, the first drops of blood began to leak down.

"Marilyn," Sandy whispered, "promise me that you’ll get out of here. Don’t wait for me, just go. I need to know this will be worthwhile."

"We’ll make it," Marilyn promised. "All of us will make it."

Sandy’s eyes were closed in her attempt to marshal her strength against the suffering she had chosen to accept. She didn’t see the look of fierce determination in Marilyn’s eyes, nor the equally adamant nods from her teammates. There was no way the team would leave without her. Without hesitation now that they were committed, Marilyn got the team ready to proceed.

"Carol, you figure out some way to control Jennifer. I want her bound, blindfolded, and gagged. She might give us away at any time. Jaymi, you switch her bonds to Sandy. Make sure you get them tight enough to look right. Sorry, Sandy."

Sandy nodded absently, still consumed with her internal torment. The device had grown within her until she had no choice but to hold her lower body stiff and erect. When Jaymi reluctantly bound her wrists and cinched the elbow strap tight, the full extent of the bondage became apparent. With her elbows and shoulders pulled cruelly back and her lower body rigid, Sandy had no choice but to sit primly erect, as though eager to fulfill her duty. The blindfold was placed over her still-shut eyes and she descended even deeper into dark damnation.

The rest of the team plus their captive moved quickly back to the entrance to the biowar lab and cycled out through the airlock. Along the way, Marilyn had Carol steal a guard’s uniform. Outside, they met the one they knew as Constance. A brief flicker of a glance from Marilyn and an even briefer nod from Constance passed a communication the others didn’t even know to look for. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize the situation from inside, one unknown girl bound and gagged, one team member missing. Yet it was just as obvious to Constance that the team had succeeded in their primary mission, otherwise they wouldn’t have come out at all.

Silently, Marilyn motioned them away from the helpless guard-girl and when they were in a private place gave her orders, "Carol, you put Jennifer somewhere safe. We’ll be taking her with us, but I don’t trust her at all. We’re going to have to find a replacement for Sandy and get her into position."

"There’s no time," Jaymi complained. "They’re going to be moving around in there in less than ten minutes."

"I know, Sandy will just have to wait until we can work something out," Marilyn replied with just enough asperity in her voice to remind the team that she was concerned about their missing teammate, too.

No one knew what Sandy suffered while she waited. No one else had to endure it and so gain first hand knowledge of the ordeal. But in a larger sense, no one else could have understood even if afflicted with the same torture. Only Sandy had experienced the brutal anal rape that had so scarred her heart and her soul with trauma. The screeches of pain from her tortured rectum ripped through her body with every pulse of her heart. The drip of blood lowered her defenses still further, weakening her when she needed all her strength. Still, she endured. She survived. Her mind tried to retreat into another world, and that of any of her teammates might have done so. But the very trauma that made this so terrible for Sandy also may have saved her. Sandy had passed through this fire already, once. Some kernel of sanity held her together with the knowledge that she had survived this, and could do so again. Her mind danced along the borderlines of reality with thoughts of cosmic predestination, as though forces greater than human had forged her for this moment of truth, where the fate of all life hung in the balance on her ability to use the temper of her previous experience to combat the conflagration of this ordeal. Then another shriek of pain would pass and she couldn’t think at all. Her world drew in as it had done before, awareness leaking away even as the lights began to come up outside her covered eyes.

Only a tentative thread of connection to this world remained when she heard footsteps nearby. They had the characteristic clomp of masculine feet in masculine shoes so she knew it was not her teammates with a rescue. Despair warred with panic for control of her being but the adrenaline surge that resulted also cleared her mind and she showed no outward sign of her inner turmoil. The footsteps closed and paused nearby.

"Ah, Maximum Leader, this one is even more beautiful than the last. Is she new?" a voice asked with a curious mixture of respect and fear that the speaker was trying to disguise with outward casualness.

"What? Oh, I don’t know. I just specified lots of dark hair and lots of soft curves for today. She seems adequate in that respect. Tomorrow I may specify curly blonde hair and perhaps bigger nipples. This one seems a bit disappointing in that area, don’t you think?" This voice was nasally, with an undertone of shrill whine like an overheating bearing. They spoke in the language of Maximum Leader’s country, ignoring the captive girl as though she were only a machine, a pretty machine, but not one with a mind inside.

"Ah, Maximum Leader, none of those who worship you are disappointing. This little jewel is magnificent."

"Perhaps I’ll let you have her after I am done with her. Now that you mention it, I don’t seem to remember her. She seems western, perhaps one of those cursed Americans. I especially enjoy my time with American girls, they’re so unused to suffering."

Switching to English, he spoke directly to Sandy, "You, girl, do you speak English?"

She nodded silently, receiving a harsh slap in return that threatened to tear her off her perch, leaving the anchored half of her body behind.

"When I speak to you, you will answer me," growled the invisible bully.

"Yes, Master, I speak English," Sandy gasped through her freshened agony.

"Have I had you, yet?" Maximum Leader demanded.

"No, Master."

"Then why are you here? Skuda generally leaves new girls alone until I finish with them."

"I was inadequate at maintaining my appearance two days ago. She had me take a place as guard-girl, then received complaints that I was inadequate in that area as well. Now I am here," Sandy finished flatly, as though resigned to her fate.

"What makes you so inadequate?" demanded the whiny voice.

"I am inexperienced, Master."

"Completely inexperienced?" now a note of interest was rekindled in the gloating tones.

"Except for my duties as guard-girl, I have had no experience with men, Master," confirmed Sandy, continuing to build a story that confirmed her apparent innocence.

An implication of her story suddenly occurred to Maximum Leader and he flew into a rage, "Do you mean to tell me that Skuda set you up on that stool without letting me take your virginity?"

Sandy did not need to answer. Another of the sets of shuffling footsteps had been walking around her, examining the device that held her captive. Whoever that was had realized Sandy’s position did not quite correspond to the design of the stool. He also spotted the slowly spreading pool of blood beneath the helpless girl and pointed it out to the group.

"It appears that your inestimable Skuda has found a solution to the problem. This girl is enjoying your gift in an unusual way," he announced. The entire group walked around behind Sandy, never quite lifting the concealing skirt enough to discover the true mystery of her situation.

"Ah, I should have known," chuckled Maximum Leader, "though that device was never intended to be used that way. I expect this girl will be more pleasing in her duties from now on."

The group of men laughed in a way they probably felt was manly and powerful, but sounded to Sandy more like little boys’ cruelty as they tried to burn ants with a magnifying glass. Without another word one stood before her and she felt a demand for admittance at her lips. She complied with the demand and serviced the first of those in the group. The torn muscles of her rectum could barely squeeze the device enough to trigger it, but she managed that also. Before it had shrunk enough that escape would have been possible even if she were alone, the man had tripped the airlock and the intruder was once again swelling within her. She found that despite the unceasing agony, there had indeed been some saturation of nerves, for the short relaxation allowed them to reset before the maximum distention was again reached, renewing agony that had only seemed to be the ultimate her body could generate. Another and another cycled through the door, always demanding to pay the perverse toll. Each partial cycle of her internal tormentor added further shrieks of torture to her damaged body, added additional flow to the blood now dripping steadily from her.

In a hidden niche just outside the lab ante-room, the rest of the team was developing their plans. Now that the lab was active, they would have to rescue Sandy with subterfuge rather than stealth. Finally, Marilyn reached a decision.

"All right, Connie, it looks like it’s time."

Her response was initially just an equally cryptic nod, but Constance stood up and to the amazement of the remaining team members pulled off her glorious auburn hair. Her dress soon followed and in moments the one true female in their team was revealed to be as masculine as any of the acknowledged cross-dressers. More so, actually, for Constance had no trace of mammary development, and her, no, his own hair was cut in a masculine, actually military style.

"Sorry that we had to hide this from you, but my name is really Daniel McLean, not Constance. I’m the one that convinced Marilyn that this sort of masquerade was possible, and my continued success was proof that even experts in cross-dressing, like all of you, could be fooled. It also provided an emergency capability that couldn’t be revealed inadvertently by the rest of you. This is that emergency."

Daniel took the guard’s uniform they had stolen and put it on. From a portion of the hair of "Connie’s" wig and a few things they found in available cosmetics, Daniel soon had heavy eyebrows and a drooping mustache that made the transformation as credible as his earlier masquerade. He stood in the hidden niche while Carol and Jaymi went to get a replacement for Sandy. They didn’t know how good the likeness would have to be, but there were several girls with long, dark hair and good figures to choose from and they selected an unfortunate candidate quickly. Bondage devices were sprinkled around the harem for the convenience of Maximum Leader or the harem mistress, so in moments they had a blindfolded, bound, and gagged victim to present to the waiting impostor guard. When the coast was clear, they quickly escorted him and his charge to the ante-room where Daniel now paid the necessary toll and took his unnamed replacement deep into the lab.

When he got to Sandy’s location he saw the spreading flow of blood immediately, and the terrible pallor of her face. Her more-or-less human, more-or-less masculine tormentors had long departed, but the inhuman mechanism within her was still demanding its constant agony. Sandy hovered on the edge of consciousness, each time her mind tried to slip away, her slouching body would shift on the massive protrusion within her and fresh shrieks of fire would shout within too loud to allow oblivion. This time she didn’t notice the approaching footsteps. No one else paid particular attention either, changing of guard-girls was at the whim of the harem mistress, not their concern. When Daniel got close, he leaned down to whisper to his tortured teammate.

"Sandy, wake up, Come on Sandy, I’ve come to take you home."

Later, in her disjointed memories, Sandy would only remember one word of that statement. Home. Nothing else mattered. She roused enough to open her eyes and see a man standing before her, a guard. Some portion of her inner strength roused at the cruel joke and she forced herself to alertness. That alertness caught the genuine concern in Daniel’s eyes, though she still didn’t recognize him. After another whisper, and a start of shock that she could have done without, Sandy’s heart began to climb from the well of despair that her suffering had been digging, inch by rocky inch. It wasn’t an easy journey, not the least of which because her only escape required a continuation of the depravity that had gotten her there.

"Sorry, Sandy, but we need to make this look good. You don’t have to take me all the way, just give me a few strokes and then release the door," Daniel offered, as he made another offer through the opened fly of his pants.

He didn’t know that the damage to her anal ring had made it almost impossible for her to apply the pressure necessary to trip the mechanism. It took several minutes before she finally managed to squeeze hard enough for the door to open. Her body collapsed on its stool as though all of her substance were inflated by the pressure in her intruder and leaking away with it. As soon as he could, Daniel lifted her gently off her instrument of torture. He would have liked to clean it up so that the new, essentially innocent, guard-girl would be spared any risk of infection, but there wasn’t any opportunity. Instead, he directed the new girl to her duties in the stern, uncompromising tones expected of a guard. The unnamed woman shuddered at her situation, but took her position, blindfolded, bound tightly, now impaled on a despicable perversion. At least, she should be replaced soon. As far as the harem mistress knew the original girl, Jennifer, had been in place all night. Sooner or later she would send a replacement, a curly-haired blonde with big nipples, assuming Maximum Leader had followed through with his planned choice.

The rules dictated that returning guard-girls be bound, gagged, and blindfolded on their trip back to the outer harem, but Sandy didn’t even know of her condition. She had finally passed out, mostly from lack of blood, but also from exhaustion so intense her mind could no longer maintain even a tiny spark of awareness, even when being rescued. Daniel took her quickly back to the exit to find the team guarding the door. His transformation was reversed, only a slight irregularity in his wig caused by the contribution to his mustache revealing any change from the day before.

 

(continued in part 8)

 

 

 

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© 1998 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.