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“Please… please… sir…” I screamed, clasping my hands together in front of me in a gesture of beseeching. I clutched at my pussy shamelessly, trying to soothe myself.
Agent Delvik lifted his finger, and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started. I let out a cry of relief, and then a soft whimper. Then I noticed to my horror that I had started soaked my panties in pee, and more was still coming out, running down the insides of my legs and splashing onto the metal floor below me. With a little cry of dismay I finally managed to clamp down with the muscles between my thighs and stop the shameful stream of warm wetness.
“Lift your dress, girl,” he said, in that quiet voice that brought more fear than his sterner tone. “I want to see you wet yourself.”
CHAPTER 4
Baron Gravamir
“Which of them do you want in your room this evening, Grav?” asked my friend Hesborin.
I looked at the five concubines who stood with their eyes lowered along the wall of Hesborin’s dining room. Two Kamnian girls and three Breslian girls, both groups immediately identifiable from the color of their hair: the blue of the sky and the green of the forest, reflected in the competing genetic craftsmanship of the Tri-System Mercantile Company and the Vionian Service Corporation on their respective concubine planets.
Hesborin, or more probably his concubine mistress, had dressed the blue-haired girls in lingerie of different shades of green, and the green-haired girls in blue. The lovely young women’s underwear also varied in style, in a way I found enchanting and rather distracting—the Kamnian fuck toy, on the left, wore a see-through nightgown in green the hue of sea foam, with nothing underneath; the Breslian girl, next to her, a breast halter and panties in pale blue lace that showed her tiny nipples andhairless quim nearly as clearly as they would have appeared were she naked.
“A difficult decision, eh?” Hesborin said with a chuckle.
I turned to look at him across the dining table loaded with the remnants of delicacies from every corner of the empire. An almost empty flask of ice-wine from Hlob. The picked-clean bones of exquisitely-spiced erta birds from Ghu. Even gabbor steaks smuggled in deep freeze from inside the boundaries of the Magisterian Federation, the only source for the luscious meat.
Hesborin looked back at me with the insouciant, naughty smile that I had always found irresistible despite the many annoyances my fabulously wealthy best friend had been bringing to my life since our school days—alongside moments of immense luxury like this one. One such annoyance constituted the serious thoughts from which his offer of submissive feminine company in my bed that night had distracted me.
He had offered me an enormous sum, if I would simply agree to put my name and title on the corporation he had just founded, to sell shoddily-made starfighters to the Imperial Army. To be fair to Hes, the fighters lacked good armor and effective cannon through no real fault of his own: the Magisterian blockade bore the true responsibility, though even a high-ranking baron like me could get into deep trouble for even acknowledging the fact that the war had taken a turn against us.
And he had just attempted to distract me from his unwelcome proposition by offering me a different sort of proposition.
“I don’t know why you don’t have a single concubine of your own, Grav,” he said, his mouth quirking up into a smile. “You’re what? Thirty-seven, now? You know I’d sell you one or two ofthese girls in a flash, and at a discount. I know your finances are rather… tighter than mine, but still. A baron without a concubine to warm his bed? Not the done thing. A man like you should have at least three, and a mistress of concubines to keep them obedient and ready for fucking.”
I glanced over at the five nearly naked girls arrayed in a perfectly spaced row against the wall. Behind them a splendid mural showed scenes of debauchery, as the men’s dining room in a Vionian palace nearly always did. Here a man in armor fucked a girl over a banquet table. There a girl knelt before her naked masters, his cock buried deep between her lips and his hand on the back of her head to keep her to her duty.
The concubines’ eyes remained fixed on the marble floor in front of them, just as an obedient bonded servant’s should. As I studied their faces, though, considering whether to take Hesborin up on one or more of his offers, I found myself hoping one of them would dare to look up at me.
I sighed and turned back to Hes.
“I have to be home tonight. There’s a council meeting I need to beam into,” I told him, without real regret, considering that none of his concubines had raised her eyes, and none had even seemed to blush at their master’s shameless words. Perhaps I should acquire a girl—a Kamnian, I decided—and engage a mistress of concubines, with the money this deal with Hes would net me despite all the care it would bring. If I did, I would be able to ensure that she had a little spirit, as well as that certain innocence and modesty I couldn’t deny fired my dominant blood.
Chalondra
My hands, out in front of me, clenched into little fists. I tried to make them go downward, towards my legs, where I could use them to raise my dress as Agent Delvik had commanded. At the same time, between my legs, my muscles had clenched hard, trying to keep the rest of the pee inside my bladder. I had bent my knees, and I stood like a little girl about to have an accident, shifting my weight from foot to foot and bouncing up and down.
My hands wouldn’t move. I watched the horrible man in the red uniform lower his finger to his handheld again, his eyes not moving from my face.
“No!” I screamed. “N?—”
The pain erupted in my body again, and I felt my bladder muscles let go. The warm wetness gushed into my already soaking panties and down the insides of my thighs. I cried out, and my hands descended at last to grab the lap of my dress, gather it, and take the hem of the undyed homespun into my fingers.
The pain stopped. I sobbed in relief, and utterly defeated, I raised my dress above my waist. The sobs kept wringing themselves from my chest as the shame continued and grew with every passing second of the tinkling, splattering sound of my pee on the metal floor of my cage.
“See?” said Agent Delvik. “You’re learning. You clearly need to be broken, girl, but you can see that the company has the means to do it very easily—and I might add, very enjoyably.”
As he finished delivering this latest degrading speech, the flow of my pee into my underwear had slowed to a tiny trickle. I let out a soft whimper with each breath out of my nose. I knew my face must have turned a deep red, judging from the burning heat I felt from my neck to the roots of my hair.
“Also, my dear,” he continued, somehow makingmy dearsound like the most humiliating obscenity that could emerge from a human mouth, “you may console yourself, I suppose, in the knowledge that bad girls like you fetch a much higher price. The masters and mistresses who bid on you will have access to the video records of your preparation. Concubines who have required the sort of breaking you’ve just begun today often fetch two or three times as much as girls who go willingly to their masters’ and mistresses’ beds and bend obediently to have their faults corrected.”
I could do nothing but stand, trembling, and listen to the man’s partly terrifying, partly mysterious words—the mysterious parts only adding to the terror.
Agent Delvik’s eyes studied me once again, his gaze traveling down to the shameful puddle I was standing in, then upward to my plain panties and lingering there as if savoring the way they clung to my private parts. Kamnian girls’ underwear came from the company, made of soft synthcotton and distributed to families by the village administration. Across the front and across the back, where the words sat just above the cleft of my pussy and right over my sit-spot, it bore the words in capital letters, “Property of the Tri-System Mercantile Company.”
Until this moment, I had never wondered why we got our panties from elsewhere in the galaxy. It had seemed simply natural that a world whose own fabrics would feel much too rough on such sensitive areas should receive help from the Vionians who took our products and sold them on other planets. Nor had I ever thought to extend the idea that my underwear belonged to someone else to the notion that mybodybelonged to someone else.
