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Suddenly, though, I felt a new wave of shame as I understood whatProperty of the Tri-System Mercantile Companymeant, as a declaration I wore on my panties. This horrid man could see the visual evidence of my transformation into owned property right there on my underwear. And I had just soaked that underwear with my helpless peeing.
I closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear to watch him appreciating the extent of his degradation of a young woman who had always felt proud of her intelligence and self-reliance.
His next words, though, came out in a voice so sharp that my eyelids flew open.
“Everything off. Now.”
My jaw dropped. My gaze went down from his face to his hands, and trembling seized my limbs as I saw that his finger hovered over the little screen, ready to send another wave of agony through me.
I felt like my body had begun to develop a mind of its own, somehow. My thoughts remained confused and terribly ambivalent. The rational part of me urged obedience even as it professed disbelief and scorn at my idiotic resistance so far. The spirited part of me clung to the idea that I had to demonstratesome defiance, even if it meant enduring some pain—just for me, and for my mother who had told me to hang onto my spirit. My body, though, overrode both of those mental voices. As if a signal had traveled straight from my eyes, at the sight of the agent’s hovering finger, to my hands, I found that I had started to strip my dress off over my head.
Then, as if I were watching it happen from fifty meters away, the dress had fallen to the floor of the cage. My body paid no attention to the placement of the garment I had spent so long weaving and sewing: my mind watched in misplaced dismay as it fell into the shameful puddle I had made.
I stood in only my soaking panties, with my hands reflexively over my breasts. Everything I had learned about the terrible fate my Kamnian birth had bestowed on me, about the awful man who had me in this cage, told me it could have no effect, but I nevertheless looked into his face and said in a voice that sounded strange to me in its submissive pleading, “Please? May I… may I at least have some new underwear… sir?”
He laughed, and then he pressed the button.
I screamed, my pussy burning uncontrollably. I almost fell to the floor, into the puddle, but when I managed despite the shudders of agony that went through me to get my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my panties, Agent Delvik took his finger off the screen. Sobbing, still shaking, I fixed my eyes on the dirt just outside the cage, and I pulled down my underwear.
The spirited part of me tried to persuade me that I had at least taken those words,Property of the Tri-System Mercantile Companyoff the most private places on my body. My logical side sneered: no one who sees a naked girl in a cage could mistake her for anything other than an owned concubine, intransport to the palace where her master will make her do the bed-thing with him.
“You may put your underwear and your dress in the bucket, girl,” the agent said, his voice cold and dismissive. “You won’t be needing them again. Mop up your urine with the dress, if you’d rather your legs and your cage were dry.”
I sobbed with shame. I had made that dress just six months ago, as all Kamnian girls made their clothing when they grew old enough. I had made it well, on the family’s hand loom. I had expected it would last me ten years at least, the way my mother’s and my aunts’ dresses did, the stains of berry picking and kitchen work only representing the pride that comes from useful work. I had no trouble throwing my new masters’ panties into the bucket, but soaking up my pee with my dress and dropping it there seemed like confirmation that my happy life until that moment had represented nothing but a silly, false dream.
“Good girl,” Agent Delvik said. “Now, though, I’m afraid I must punish you for ruining the company’s property that way, and for relieving yourself without permission.”
CHAPTER 5
Chalondra
Stunned, I whirled around to face him. The torment of the cage had already conditioned me so thoroughly that my eyes went straight to his hands, even as my own hands flew reflexively to cover my breasts and my sparsely thatched pussy. To my surprise, he had put the handheld device down on the table in front of him. Rather than looking at me, in fact, Agent Delvik had started to pull the chair out, across the dirt floor, so that it stood a meter or so away from the table.
I watched him sit in it, still without looking at me. He had picked up the handheld, and his eyes were on it, but when his finger touched it again the agony didn’t return, and a desperate cry for mercy died in my throat. He pressed again, with several distinct applications of his fingertip in some kind of sequence. A beep came from the lock on the cage door, and my body tensed again in alarm, sure that the pain would return but ready to withstand it, to show that he hadn’t broken me, though I couldn’t have given any logical reason why I should do anything but surrender.
The door swung open.
I looked at it as if it meant to bite me, but nothing else happened. When I returned my gaze to the man in the red uniform, I saw him looking back at me, his eyes narrow but the smug little smile once again on his lips.
“Put your hands on your head, girl,” he commanded.
I shook my head in confusion.
“I…” I started. What did the opening of the cage door have to do with putting my hands on my head?
“Surely you don’t want me to activate the punisher again?” the agent asked, his voice pleasant. He lifted his left eyebrow as if he wanted to appear truly curious about this question. He held his finger over the screen of the handheld, still smiling as if turning my body to a chaos of agonized, writhing muscles seemed like a pleasant diversion—but one he would rather sacrifice for the promise of better fun to be had with the young woman he had claimed as his company’s newest asset.
I shook my head much more violently, feeling my face twist into a desperate plea.
“No, sir,” I said.
“Then I would suggest you do as you’re told, Chalondra.” A hint of sternness crept into his voice. I had enough of my wits about me that I could tell Agent Delvik meant me to perceive him as trying to help me—as fatherly, even. He had called me abad girl, but I heard in his “advice” a sort of promise that I could change that unfortunate impression if I could show him I knew how to behave myself.
To my distress, something deep inside me responded to this condescending, humiliating treatment.It’s the pain,I told myself, gritting my teeth inwardly though my actual mouth hung slightly open. I wanted to say something, but I had no words with which to reply.
He raised both eyebrows, his eyes flicking down to the screen and then back up to my face.
“Hmm?” he inquired.
