Enslaved on an Alien World Ch 02
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Enslaved Chapter 16 free porn video
„Julia Chant on report...“
The trembling figure knelt, Miss Judith alongside her. There was no longer any need for the grip of assistants.
Julia had learnt that lesson, at least.
„What is it this time?“ asked the grim-faced Madame Vesta.
„Disobedience, Ma’am.“
„Again!“
„Yes, Ma’am...“
Miss Judith went on to recount the incident... and also stated how Julia had finally been made to submit.
„The fact that she finally obeyed does not excuse her,“ said Madame Vesta.
„I agree, Ma’am, that’s why I put her on Report.“
„Slave... you do not yet seem to be aware of the folly of disobedience...“
„Mercy... .mercy, Madame... I... I d-did not m-mean it... truly...“ sobbed Julia.
„The cane does not seem to have taught you. But perhaps the birch will!“
„Mercy!“ shrieked Julia.
For had she not seen the birch in use!
„Ahmed,“ ordered Madame Vesta, „Bring up the Whipping Pillory.“
The terrifying pinioning device on which Julia had already suffering such agony was brought up.
„Jason,“ said Madame Vesta, „you will carry out the birching. Use the heavy birch. Give her twenty-four strokes.“
„Yes, Ma’am...“
Miss Judith looked a shade disappointed. Still, there was the satisfaction of knowing that Jason’s right arm was stronger than hers.
Meanwhile Ahmed was fixing a shrieking Julia into the Pillory. Instinctively she struggled... but quite uselessly.
She was as helpless as a babe in the Negroes grip.
As before, her lush hindquarters were d****d over the rounded ‘horse’... but this time they were left free to move.
And, let it be said, when Jason began to birching, they took every advantage of that freedom!
Madly Julia’s hindquarters threshed up and down the ‘horse’ as her a****l-like shrieks echoed around and around the Punishment Room. It was a sight to delight the sadistic eyes of Miss Judith... and the others who watched.
Mercilessly Jason flailed the multiple switches over the juddering bouncing flesh... .until not a trace of white was to be seen.
After the twelfth stroke, the lacerated skin began to break.
Julia would have to spend longer than usual in the Recovery Room.
Indeed, she did.
Four days to be precise. But when she came out, she had the appalling knowledge that she was fully restored. In body, at least... even if her mind had been further warped.
Warped further towards slavish submissiveness.
As Miss Judith took her back to her cabin-cell, there to rejoin a recumbent Melissa, Julia told herself she would do anything that was demanded of her. I will obey... I will... I will, she said inwardly. Nothing was worth those terrible visits to the Punishment Room.
What did it matter if she were repelled? If she were degraded? If she lost all pride and human decency?
Were those things worse than the agonising bite of the rod... or the excrutiation of the flailing birch?
They were not.
That she knew for certain. What Melissa had told her at the outset had been true. But then it had simply been
impossible to believe her. Now Julia knew better.
As Miss Judith locked on her collar and chain, Julia had a strange impulse to kiss the hand that fettered her. Just to show that, now, she truly understood she was a slave! She only just resisted it.
Miss Judith, with her experience, did not need Julia to kiss her hand to be aware of the state of her submissiveness.
It was not yet quite complete, but nearly so. In the end, she reflected, Julia had turned out to be rather less stubborn than Melissa.
Of course, there would be minor rebellions. There were almost bound to be during the first month or six weeks. But they would grow fewer and fewer.
Until the submissiveness was truly complete.
Then Quentin Osman would be sent for, so that he could enjoy his ownership!
Julia had to service Jason and Ahmed almost daily with her mouth. Soon it became second nature to her. Soon she scarcely thought anything of it. She was simply a thing to be used by them. They could do anything they liked with her but fuck her... and, no doubt, one day her owner (yes... she was now thinking of Quentin as that!) would arrange for it to happen.
Sometimes she and Melissa were attached for twenty-four hours at a time as ‘domestic slaves’ to the two blacks.
Then, apart from being used as sex objects, they would have to wait on the two of them hand and foot... bathing them, clearing up after them, feeding them and so on.
Julia could never quite accustom herself to the degradation of her role. The white woman serving black males... and perhaps her resentment showed in her minor ways at times.
Naturally, she could have been reported but, more often than not, the Negroes would not bother. One or the other would simply put her over his knees and give her bottom a really good slapping. And, with hands as hard as theirs, slapping was no laughing matter!
But just as with the sexual services she had to give, it soon seemed second nature to Julia to find herself over a pair of black, tree-trunk thighs with a stinging palm descending again and again. It would have seemed an impossible situation... and an unimaginable fate... not so long before!
She would have laughed herself sick, or thought you were crazy, if you had told her that she would submit to such a thing.
Now Julia had learnt.
Like Orwell’s hero in ‘1984’. she had learnt that the impossible was possible!
The strap did not cease to fall... and canings were fairly frequent. Julia received about one or two a week on average.
But these were not the savage penalties of the Punishment Room. They were simply part of the day-to-day ‘disciplinary regime’ of the vessel. From time to time, half a dozen girls would be summoned up to the Pillory which was kept on one of the decks. There they might get anything from six to a dozen cuts across the buttocks. Not as a punishment but as a matter of ‘discipline’. To re-emphasise to them, however
experienced they might be, the fact of their slave-girl status.
For the Paradise, relatively gentle treatment, but not exactly pleasant for all that!
After five weeks, Madame Vesta sent a mail to New York.
It stated simply: ‘PARCEL READY FOR COLLECTION’ V., and told Quentin Osman all he wanted to know.
He could not stop his hand from trembling with excitement.
„Well, Julia,“ said Miss Judith with a sardonic grin, „the man you once referred to as a ‘fat slob’ is on his way here.“
Julia’s eyes had acquired that blank despair of all slavegirls... but there was a momentary flare of hate and dread.
Then the light died again.
„Do you remember what you were told on that occasion?“
„No, Miss,“ replied Julia. That was true. Those were terrible days at the beginning of it all seemed a whole
lifetime away. Yet it was not even six weeks.
„You were told,“ said Miss Judith, „that when Mr. Osman arrived, you would be happy to be allowed to go down on your hands and knees and beg to be allowed the honour of kissing his arse. Your reactions were rather violent. You feel differently now, I imagine.“
„Yes, Miss,“ nodded Julia. She truly did. After all she had had to do it for Jason and Ahmed, what could Quentin matter? Admittedly, he had started the whole thing... but now she merely regarded him as a piece of distasteful male flesh she had to serve.
That, it seemed, had developed into being her function in life.
Of course, she still hated him, But it was not that initial, wild uncontrolled hate. It was continuous, low slowburning hate. Something she would learn to exist with.
Miss Judith unchained her charge. She was well content with her work. Quentin Osman would be both amazed and delighted, she was sure. The conversation of haughty Julia Chant to abject slave-girl was quite some change!
„Come along,“ she said, „let’s go to the Treatment Room. We want to look our best, don’t we?“
„Yes, Miss,“ agreed Julia meekly... and followed the overseer out of the cabin.
Quentin was tense, now that the great moment was at hand. As a result - and as usual - he was drinking too much. Madame Vesta had opened some champagne to celebrate his arrival.
She and Miss Judith were helping their guest drink it, while he plied them with questions about Julia’s behaviour and training.
„You’ll find it difficult to recognise her,“ said Madame Vesta. „Not in the matter of looks, of course, but as far as character goes. Oh indeed quite a change. Miss Judith has been largely responsible for seeing to that. And you know our methods.“
„Yes... yes...“ agreed Quentin.
He looked at the hefty blonde. My god, he thought, what Julia must have gone through at her hands!
It was at this point that Miss Judith recounted the incident when Julia had first arrived... stating what she had
called him... and what she been told at the time.
„Well, well.“ grinned Quentin hugely. „A fat slob, eh? In that case I’ll get her to do just that. Or give a damned good hiding.“
„Do both, if you like,“ said Madame Vesta, in that matter of fact way of hers. „After all, you own her now.“
Naked, on her belly, nose to the floor. Julia came crawling... grovelling... across the carpet of the cabin.
Equally naked, piggy eyes gleaming with lust, Quentin looked down at the figure inching forward. He was lying on a pile of pillows on one of the bunks.
„I believe you’ve got something to say to me?“ he said thickly.
„Yes, Master,“ replied Julia in a low voice.
„Well then...“
Julia knelt erect. Her splendid, full breasts thrust forward as she clasped her hands at the back of her head.
The customary, now so familiar pose. The pose of a slavegirl.
„Master,“ she said, „your slave... begs... begs the honour of... of kissing your bottom...“
Quentin almost burst out laughing. How incredible to hear such words coming from Julia! The same Julia who had frequently slapped his face, even if she thought he was getting only slightly out of line. Oh yes... .it was quite incredible!
What wonders had been worked...
He feasted his eyes on the lovely body.
All mine... all mine... he kept saying to himself. I can do whatever I like with her. Any time. She’s mine... mine!
I own her body and soul.
Yes... this is my slave!
Somehow Quentin controlled his glee. But it bubbled away inside him, mixing with his surging sadism and his raging lust.
„Indeed,“ he grinned, rolling over on the bunk... to expose fat, flabby white buttocks. §I think I might grant
that honour, slave...“
„Thank you, Master,“ said Julia in the same low, controlled tones.
„Just as a beginning, mark you,“ said Quentin. „After that I can set about finding out just how well you’ve been trained, my beauty.“
„Yes, Master...“ replied Julia.
She went down on hands and knees and crawled slowly towards the bunk.
A new chapter in her life of servitude was about to begin...
The trembling figure knelt, Miss Judith alongside her. There was no longer any need for the grip of assistants.
Julia had learnt that lesson, at least.
„What is it this time?“ asked the grim-faced Madame Vesta.
„Disobedience, Ma’am.“
„Again!“
„Yes, Ma’am...“
Miss Judith went on to recount the incident... and also stated how Julia had finally been made to submit.
„The fact that she finally obeyed does not excuse her,“ said Madame Vesta.
„I agree, Ma’am, that’s why I put her on Report.“
„Slave... you do not yet seem to be aware of the folly of disobedience...“
„Mercy... .mercy, Madame... I... I d-did not m-mean it... truly...“ sobbed Julia.
„The cane does not seem to have taught you. But perhaps the birch will!“
„Mercy!“ shrieked Julia.
For had she not seen the birch in use!
„Ahmed,“ ordered Madame Vesta, „Bring up the Whipping Pillory.“
The terrifying pinioning device on which Julia had already suffering such agony was brought up.
„Jason,“ said Madame Vesta, „you will carry out the birching. Use the heavy birch. Give her twenty-four strokes.“
„Yes, Ma’am...“
Miss Judith looked a shade disappointed. Still, there was the satisfaction of knowing that Jason’s right arm was stronger than hers.
Meanwhile Ahmed was fixing a shrieking Julia into the Pillory. Instinctively she struggled... but quite uselessly.
She was as helpless as a babe in the Negroes grip.
As before, her lush hindquarters were d****d over the rounded ‘horse’... but this time they were left free to move.
And, let it be said, when Jason began to birching, they took every advantage of that freedom!
Madly Julia’s hindquarters threshed up and down the ‘horse’ as her a****l-like shrieks echoed around and around the Punishment Room. It was a sight to delight the sadistic eyes of Miss Judith... and the others who watched.
Mercilessly Jason flailed the multiple switches over the juddering bouncing flesh... .until not a trace of white was to be seen.
After the twelfth stroke, the lacerated skin began to break.
Julia would have to spend longer than usual in the Recovery Room.
Indeed, she did.
Four days to be precise. But when she came out, she had the appalling knowledge that she was fully restored. In body, at least... even if her mind had been further warped.
Warped further towards slavish submissiveness.
As Miss Judith took her back to her cabin-cell, there to rejoin a recumbent Melissa, Julia told herself she would do anything that was demanded of her. I will obey... I will... I will, she said inwardly. Nothing was worth those terrible visits to the Punishment Room.
What did it matter if she were repelled? If she were degraded? If she lost all pride and human decency?
Were those things worse than the agonising bite of the rod... or the excrutiation of the flailing birch?
They were not.
That she knew for certain. What Melissa had told her at the outset had been true. But then it had simply been
impossible to believe her. Now Julia knew better.
As Miss Judith locked on her collar and chain, Julia had a strange impulse to kiss the hand that fettered her. Just to show that, now, she truly understood she was a slave! She only just resisted it.
Miss Judith, with her experience, did not need Julia to kiss her hand to be aware of the state of her submissiveness.
It was not yet quite complete, but nearly so. In the end, she reflected, Julia had turned out to be rather less stubborn than Melissa.
Of course, there would be minor rebellions. There were almost bound to be during the first month or six weeks. But they would grow fewer and fewer.
Until the submissiveness was truly complete.
Then Quentin Osman would be sent for, so that he could enjoy his ownership!
Julia had to service Jason and Ahmed almost daily with her mouth. Soon it became second nature to her. Soon she scarcely thought anything of it. She was simply a thing to be used by them. They could do anything they liked with her but fuck her... and, no doubt, one day her owner (yes... she was now thinking of Quentin as that!) would arrange for it to happen.
Sometimes she and Melissa were attached for twenty-four hours at a time as ‘domestic slaves’ to the two blacks.
Then, apart from being used as sex objects, they would have to wait on the two of them hand and foot... bathing them, clearing up after them, feeding them and so on.
Julia could never quite accustom herself to the degradation of her role. The white woman serving black males... and perhaps her resentment showed in her minor ways at times.
Naturally, she could have been reported but, more often than not, the Negroes would not bother. One or the other would simply put her over his knees and give her bottom a really good slapping. And, with hands as hard as theirs, slapping was no laughing matter!
But just as with the sexual services she had to give, it soon seemed second nature to Julia to find herself over a pair of black, tree-trunk thighs with a stinging palm descending again and again. It would have seemed an impossible situation... and an unimaginable fate... not so long before!
She would have laughed herself sick, or thought you were crazy, if you had told her that she would submit to such a thing.
Now Julia had learnt.
Like Orwell’s hero in ‘1984’. she had learnt that the impossible was possible!
The strap did not cease to fall... and canings were fairly frequent. Julia received about one or two a week on average.
But these were not the savage penalties of the Punishment Room. They were simply part of the day-to-day ‘disciplinary regime’ of the vessel. From time to time, half a dozen girls would be summoned up to the Pillory which was kept on one of the decks. There they might get anything from six to a dozen cuts across the buttocks. Not as a punishment but as a matter of ‘discipline’. To re-emphasise to them, however
experienced they might be, the fact of their slave-girl status.
For the Paradise, relatively gentle treatment, but not exactly pleasant for all that!
After five weeks, Madame Vesta sent a mail to New York.
It stated simply: ‘PARCEL READY FOR COLLECTION’ V., and told Quentin Osman all he wanted to know.
He could not stop his hand from trembling with excitement.
„Well, Julia,“ said Miss Judith with a sardonic grin, „the man you once referred to as a ‘fat slob’ is on his way here.“
Julia’s eyes had acquired that blank despair of all slavegirls... but there was a momentary flare of hate and dread.
Then the light died again.
„Do you remember what you were told on that occasion?“
„No, Miss,“ replied Julia. That was true. Those were terrible days at the beginning of it all seemed a whole
lifetime away. Yet it was not even six weeks.
„You were told,“ said Miss Judith, „that when Mr. Osman arrived, you would be happy to be allowed to go down on your hands and knees and beg to be allowed the honour of kissing his arse. Your reactions were rather violent. You feel differently now, I imagine.“
„Yes, Miss,“ nodded Julia. She truly did. After all she had had to do it for Jason and Ahmed, what could Quentin matter? Admittedly, he had started the whole thing... but now she merely regarded him as a piece of distasteful male flesh she had to serve.
That, it seemed, had developed into being her function in life.
Of course, she still hated him, But it was not that initial, wild uncontrolled hate. It was continuous, low slowburning hate. Something she would learn to exist with.
Miss Judith unchained her charge. She was well content with her work. Quentin Osman would be both amazed and delighted, she was sure. The conversation of haughty Julia Chant to abject slave-girl was quite some change!
„Come along,“ she said, „let’s go to the Treatment Room. We want to look our best, don’t we?“
„Yes, Miss,“ agreed Julia meekly... and followed the overseer out of the cabin.
Quentin was tense, now that the great moment was at hand. As a result - and as usual - he was drinking too much. Madame Vesta had opened some champagne to celebrate his arrival.
She and Miss Judith were helping their guest drink it, while he plied them with questions about Julia’s behaviour and training.
„You’ll find it difficult to recognise her,“ said Madame Vesta. „Not in the matter of looks, of course, but as far as character goes. Oh indeed quite a change. Miss Judith has been largely responsible for seeing to that. And you know our methods.“
„Yes... yes...“ agreed Quentin.
He looked at the hefty blonde. My god, he thought, what Julia must have gone through at her hands!
It was at this point that Miss Judith recounted the incident when Julia had first arrived... stating what she had
called him... and what she been told at the time.
„Well, well.“ grinned Quentin hugely. „A fat slob, eh? In that case I’ll get her to do just that. Or give a damned good hiding.“
„Do both, if you like,“ said Madame Vesta, in that matter of fact way of hers. „After all, you own her now.“
Naked, on her belly, nose to the floor. Julia came crawling... grovelling... across the carpet of the cabin.
Equally naked, piggy eyes gleaming with lust, Quentin looked down at the figure inching forward. He was lying on a pile of pillows on one of the bunks.
„I believe you’ve got something to say to me?“ he said thickly.
„Yes, Master,“ replied Julia in a low voice.
„Well then...“
Julia knelt erect. Her splendid, full breasts thrust forward as she clasped her hands at the back of her head.
The customary, now so familiar pose. The pose of a slavegirl.
„Master,“ she said, „your slave... begs... begs the honour of... of kissing your bottom...“
Quentin almost burst out laughing. How incredible to hear such words coming from Julia! The same Julia who had frequently slapped his face, even if she thought he was getting only slightly out of line. Oh yes... .it was quite incredible!
What wonders had been worked...
He feasted his eyes on the lovely body.
All mine... all mine... he kept saying to himself. I can do whatever I like with her. Any time. She’s mine... mine!
I own her body and soul.
Yes... this is my slave!
Somehow Quentin controlled his glee. But it bubbled away inside him, mixing with his surging sadism and his raging lust.
„Indeed,“ he grinned, rolling over on the bunk... to expose fat, flabby white buttocks. §I think I might grant
that honour, slave...“
„Thank you, Master,“ said Julia in the same low, controlled tones.
„Just as a beginning, mark you,“ said Quentin. „After that I can set about finding out just how well you’ve been trained, my beauty.“
„Yes, Master...“ replied Julia.
She went down on hands and knees and crawled slowly towards the bunk.
A new chapter in her life of servitude was about to begin...
Anastasia
- 21.03.2022
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