Author Topic: The Rape Run Modern  (Read 14800 times)

carhamgrater
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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #30 on: August 06, 2021, 11:03:21 AM »
Talk about a love story! The master should have asked her about her shopping experience! Can't think that he wouls be pleased with her deciding for herself who could touch her breasts. Wondering if this is the beginning of Alexandria's rebelling to the process! Merit to come when allowed!

Offline ErikModi

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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #31 on: August 06, 2021, 11:10:08 AM »
No, it was the implant spitting out an error message.  Lucas had given her no specific instructions regarding who was and was not allowed to touch her, so "Can I touch your boobs?" wasn't a strong enough command.  Her dithering and saying "I'm not sure that's okay" was basically the implant's version of "ERROR:  Unable to execute.  Please restate valid command."  When he said it more firmly and in the form of an order, the implant recognized it as a valid order with no higher-priority orders overriding, so she went for it.  And her (actually, the implant's) line of reasoning is pretty much what Lucas had in mind:  Yeah, if I send Alexandra Daddario out topless, at least one guy is going to want to grope her.  If I'm not okay with that, I should make that clear.  I didn't make that clear, so I'm okay with it.

Like I said, they're subtle little bastards.

Offline ErikModi

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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #32 on: August 10, 2021, 10:54:21 PM »
This is a work of fiction.  The events within did not, probably will not, and definitely should not occur.  Any opinions expressed are those of the characters in the story, not the author.  None of the characters are real people, even the ones based on real people.  This is a fantasy for consenting adults.  If you cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality, please seek appropriate counseling.

Warnings:  Horribly Inadequately Researched Sexuality Studies

11 -- Invitation

What's better than waking up with the mouth of a beautiful woman working your cock?  Waking up with three of them.

Gina, Lucy, and Alexandra were all licking, kissing, and sucking my cock, eyes looking up to me and shining with the kind of devotion only a slave implant could provide.  I let my head fall back, closed my eyes, and just enjoyed the feel of my three slaves servicing me.

Alexandra was the lucky one who got my load in her mouth, which she eagerly swallowed.

"Lucy, Gina, start preparing breakfast.  Alexandra, shower."

Lucy and Gina grabbed their slave wraps and headed down to the kitchen while Alexandra waited for me to get out of bed, then followed me into the bathroom.  I got the shower running and the temperature set, then stepped in, Alexandra joining me.

There's something so decadently delightful about having someone else wash your hair, and when that someone is your gorgeous celebrity sex slave, it becomes positively sinful.  Seriously, if you haven't had your slave wash your hair yet, give it a try.  It feels amazing.

Once she was done with my hair, Alexandra washed the rest of me.  I let her attend to her own hair, but made sure her tits, cunt, and ass were thoroughly clean before turning off the shower, stepping out, and drying each other.  Alexandra then put on my uniform (having your slave dress you is almost as sexy as having her undress you), she put on her wrap, and we went down to eat.

Lucy and Gina were just serving as we got down.  After an excellent breakfast (another useful bit of default implant programming:  all slaves are at least competent cooks), I headed to work, Lucy watching me like a hawk as I clipped on my keycard and stunner and gathered everything else I'd need for the day.  My work days were especially hard on her.  Gina and Alexandra could satisfy themselves or each other while I was gone if the urge arose, but Lucy could only come if my cock was accessible.  Sometimes, I thought about taking pity on her and having her programming modified, though it would be difficult and therefore very expensive.  Then I thought about how amazing she looked when she finally did get to come on my dick, how desperately she looked at me when her need started to wear on her, and thought Hmm, not quite yet.

Otherwise, my slaves were quite capable of entertaining themselves while I was away.  Gina had her intense workout routine (she'd actually gotten back into something like her fighting shape), and Alexandra and Lucy also made use of the gym to stay fit and attractive for their Master.  They kept the house clean, did yard work, and if the mood struck had their own sexy time (though I'd made it clear to Lucy punishing either of the others, especially Alexandra, was my sole prerogative).

---

After proving ourselves, especially during SnatchSnare, GAG had been allowed to begin operating almost entirely without Agharan oversight.  I'd been promoted to Platoon First, which also made me Company Third of Alpha Company, Seventh Terran Slaver Regiment.  Dusahn had said that, while my time in service and the extreme usefulness and loyalty I'd shown meant on paper I was deserving of much higher rank, I lacked the kind of leadership and officer training to advance much further.  He also felt I was better suited to, and would prefer, a front-line position instead of a command one.  I didn't disagree.

It had taken a month after SnatchSnare for these reorganizations to be finalized, and in the month since, Alpha Company, especially my Third Platoon, had proven ourselves exceptional troubleshooters, tracking down and capturing many of the Resistance stragglers or other females not getting with the program and turning themselves in to be implanted.

Some of these females were under the protection of men who still weren't quite on board, and we proved equally capable at rooting them out.  Some pretended to be implanted slaves, wearing wraps or something similar and obediently following their men around.  Locating them was extremely simple if incredibly boring:  just look for women in a crowd who didn't show up on the implant tracker.

Others were being hidden by men in their homes.  For that, we had analysts looking at residences consuming more resources than the listed inhabitants could account for.  One guy had twenty women concealed in his basement, yet claimed he lived alone.  Yeah, right, like we weren't going to figure that one out right quick.

Men harboring unimplanted females were given the option to be with us or against us, and they knew well what being against us meant.  A dunk in a healing tank to reconfigure them into females, then a trip to Processing.  Unsurprisingly, most elected to join us, though a few stood their moral ground.

Also unsurprisingly, most of the men who elected to remain male weren't entirely sincere.  Most anyone interested in getting with the Agharan program had already done so.  Repeat offenders automatically went to the tanks.  There was now a definite surplus of Terran slaves available.

Remarkably, this bothered people a lot less than I had been expecting.  The healing tanks went way beyond our gender reassignment surgery, rebuilding a man from the genetic level up into a woman.  The only way to tell the difference was to ask, and celebrities or certain emotional attachments aside, few cared about the pedigree of the slave they were about to buy, rent, or borrow.  A few even took a perverse pleasure in knowing their obedient, female slave had once been their powerful, male rival.

Of course, the main contribution to the surplus was the gay men.  Not having a horse in this race, as the saying goes, meant they were largely content to stand aside and watch as we and the Agharans did our thing.  Sure, there were rumblings about the injustice of it, about gender persecution and all, but the Agharans' arguments for why it was necessary were just as compelling for homosexual men, if not more so.  If you're a straight man, and the acceptable misandry we used to have to put up with pisses you off, imagine what it was like to them?

Gradually, there was less and less for us to do, fewer and fewer free females wandering around.  But our biggest quarry, the Resistance leaders who, analysis indicated, had at least a sixty percent complete set of implant plans between them, still managed to elude us.  From the blasters captured at SnatchSnare we knew they were capable of getting at least limited support from both the Gaianesians and Syreen, but no subspace transmissions or hyperspace displacements had been detected.  They were still on Terra.

If that changed, it would be a disaster.

---

I arrived at the Center expecting another round of checking on potentially unimplanted females.  Instead, Dusahn and Salvish wanted to see me.

They were waiting in Cozzil's office.

"Lucas," Dusahn said.  "We need you to settle something."

Salvish cleared his throat.  "You've been invaluable to both of us in our efforts to save your world, son.  You've exceeded all our expectations, demonstrating time and again the true soul of a Slaver.  You do your people proud."

"We both want you in our posses come the Rape Run," Dusahn cut in.

Salvish nodded.  "Yes, just so, but there's only one of you to go around.  And we figured the only equitable way to decide the matter was to ask you.  Who would you like to hunt the Zone for cunts with?"

I was floored.  Me, in the Rape Run?  Getting an early, free crack at some of the Runners?  Maybe all of them, save the victor?  Maybe even getting the chance to catch one of those galactically-famous cunts personally?

My heart was fluttering.

"I've won the Run three years running," Dusahn said smugly.

That was definitely a point in his favor.  The Faction Leader who caught the most Runners was declared that year's winner, largely a bragging rights reward.  But if a Leader, or one of his Faction, caught a Runner, he got to keep her until the Run was over.  He could invite the other Leaders and their posses to come and play if he wanted, but was under no obligation to.  Thus, if Dusahn's winning streak seemed likely to continue, joining him offered me the potential to be among the first to sample the charms of the largest number of Runners.

Both were waiting for my answer with great intensity.  This wasn't just a gesture, including a Terran out of respect for us joining them.  They recognized my skills, my drive, and wanted me on their team.  Salvish probably hoping I'd help him earn a win this year, Dusahn. . . afraid I was good enough to tip the odds out of his favor, maybe?

Time to see how strong my bargaining position is.

"I want Jeri Ryan."  I'd been looking into it, and even if the Terran Runners went for half what the more famous alien ones would, there was very little chance I'd win the bidding for her.  I'd all but resigned myself to just buying a random slave and a Jeri Ryan body mod, which would still be very expensive, and she'd always be marked to show she was a knockoff, not the original.

"Done," Dusahn said.

"You can't promise that," Salvish retorted.

"I just did."

"The best he can do is, as the Leader who donated her, if his Faction is the one to catch her, exercise that right to keep her for himself."

"And once she's mine, I can gift her to a faithful and valued subordinate."

"If you can even catch her in time to donate her to the Run."

"We will," Dusahn fired back coldly.  He turned to me.  "Join my team, Lucas.  Help me catch Jeri Ryan, here, in the Zone, or both, and I'll give her to you, no strings attached, as soon as the Rape Run and all after festivities are concluded."

I looked at Salvish.  "Can you do better?"

He smiled sadly.  "No."  His voice held regret, disappointment, and. . . pride.  "You truly are a Slaver, Lucas."

Dusahn smiled.  "We forwarded you data on the other factions, the Zone, the rules for the Run, everything you need to know.  Study it when you can.  As soon as Salvish and I have acquired our donations, we'll make sure your world can carry on in our absence then head for Aghara-Penthay.  When you get the call to board the Agonizer, make sure you do before we launch."

---

In between tracking and capturing unimplanted females and having more sex than physically possible with my three slaves (nanotechnology is a beautiful thing, am I right?), I went over the data I'd been sent on the Rape Run.

The rules were pretty simple.  Runners were not allowed to cross the boundary of the Zone, defined by the rim of a massive, ancient crater.  If they did, their implants were made fully active, guaranteeing they would be caught extremely quickly, since the tracker would be constantly online and they'd now have to obey commands.  Food and water would be delivered to the Runners at their request by automated drones, the requests tracked by the swarm of nanocameras that also recorded the Run.  Lower-tier bidders, those who couldn't buy an actual go at a captured Runner, could still be there in spirit by contributing their "special sauce" to a specific Runner's food and water rations.

It just wasn't any fun if the women were exhausted from heat and dehydration after a few hours, lying passively in the sand while the Hunters searched.  For a similar reason, no captures could take place between sunset and sunrise.  Aghara-Penthay had a twenty-two-hour solar day and the Zone was right on the equator, so the women had eleven hours to rest and recover before they spent eleven hours trying to evade us.

Once a day, at a random time, a Runner's implant would send out a tracking signal.  This way, a woman couldn't just find a great hiding spot and wait it out, she had to keep moving.  But her tracker might go off right after she'd settled in to rest and hide for a bit, and if all she did was move, she was very likely to be spotted by the Hunters.  It was a balance of stealth, mobility, luck, and a kind of handicap system.

Bidders, whether for an actual fuck of a Runner or just to contribute to her degradation, were basically sponsoring her to fail.  Once all sponsorships were in, the Runners were rated in the "Most Want To See Raped" category.  For every rank in this category, a Runner's implant sent out another ping.  Which meant the Most Wanted Runner sent out her location every hour on the hour while the sun was up and she was eligible for capture.

It had been ten years since one of the top three in this category had actually won her freedom.

The tracking signal was slightly altered from the one the implant normally sent out.  Aside from being intermittent, it lacked ID data.  It wouldn't tell which specific Runner was Jeri Ryan.  But, I was told, if you carefully observed where and when each ping was, were familiar with the geography of the Zone and kept in mind who was where in the Most Wanted rankings, you could make a pretty good guess who was who.

There were hazards in the Zone, aside from exposure and deprivation.  Alien wildlife.  Well, alien to me, perfectly normal for Aghara-Penthay.  They kept the Zone clear of anything truly dangerous, but some lifeforms were too tenacious, too omnipresent, or too amusing to remove.  If a Runner found herself in a situation where, suddenly, the Hunters were the favorable option, she could call for a flare.  Her location and identity would be broadcast and all Hunters would be alerted, it being down to simple proximity who would find her first.

Every few years, at least one Runner would give up after only a day or two, unable to cope with the stress of running and hiding, admit defeat, call for a flare, and wait patiently for her destiny to come to her.

Other than that, there were no rules. Women could ally and work together, but since there could be only one winner, such alliances were fleeting and almost always a setup for betrayal by one, the other, or both.  One year had witnessed a Runner killing off her competition, because the last woman not captured was the victor and allowed to go free.  She'd killed three Runners, six had been caught, so she was free to go.  And because the murders were committed on Aghara-Penthay, which is not legally recognized by any other galactic civilization, and the Agharans couldn't afford to back out of their word (the Rape Run being a cornerstone of their economy), she never faced justice.

Officially.  There's still debate on if her death two years later was suicide from the guilt at what she'd done to win or assassination, either by angered Agharan leadership or the families of her victims.

So, those were the basics.  By day, scour the Zone, on foot or a speeder, looking for traces of a Runner and watching for tracker pings.  At night, rest up, fuck your slave, or have fun with a Runner if your group had caught one, or been invited to the camp of a group who had.

Yeah, you could bring one slave with you.  I decided on Lucy.  Gina and Alexandra could look after my home and themselves, but if I deprived Lucy of my cock for the almost two months I'd be gone for, she'd go crazy.

Once I was familiar with the game (though I wanted to see if there was some VR thing I could use to get a feel for the Zone), I focused on the players.

I was familiar with Salvish and Dusahn, but still read over the information I now had on them.

No surprise Salvish is called The Diplomat, trying to forge alliances and convert worlds to the Slaver cause.  Terra had been his greatest success to date, advanced enough to have resources and manpower useful to the Slavers, but still pre-Gender War.  He didn't seem notable for anything else in Slaver annals, but he'd held his position for long enough you knew he wasn't someone you could take advantage of.

Dusahn The Sadist is pretty self-explanatory.  He likes making women suffer.  He's a favorite in the Rape Run not just for his winning streak, but for his captures being the most satisfying for the viewing audience.  The women who made the lists for donation to the Run were hated, and Dusahn offered a spectacular vent to that hatred.

Selyra The Futa was the only non-Agharan Slaver Faction Leader.  From a primitive alien race with both male and female genitals, Selyra had somehow found a way off her planet and into the Slavers, where she rose through the ranks via sheer cunning and brutality.  Her whole culture was devoted to the hunt:  for food, for honor and prestige, for mates.  She relished the opportunity to hunt new prey across the stars, to rape and break and tame alien women with her huge cock.  Her species was taller and more thickly-built than humans or Agharans, heavily muscled and powerful, with an average dick size equal to our biggest.  In fact, they looked not unlike popular conceptions of orcs, save with red skin instead of green.  She had a small but rabid fan base who loved the novelty of a large, alien woman with a massive cock, who loved raping her victims as much as the next Slaver.

Orguss Domar is known as The Master.  Like Dusahn, he enjoys breaking the women he captures, but favors the psychological approach to the physical one.  Dusahn will make a cunt beg for whatever he wants if he'll just make the pain stop, Domar will twist her back in on herself until she honestly believes she deserves what's happening to her.

Finally, Busorold, The Spy.  His ability to get him and his agents in or out of seemingly impregnable locations, to learn secrets impossibly secured, had seen him donate several Runners thought untouchable until Busorold proved otherwise.  Fittingly, little was known about the man himself.  All the assorted public details were available, the vital statistics kept on every Slaver -- including me, now -- but what his passions and preferences were, who he was when he was at home, he just didn't seem interested in sharing.  By all accounts, he was perfectly pleasant and friendly, just didn't volunteer information about himself and had a way of steering the conversation elsewhere if it came up.

The list of potential Runners for this year had been selected, and Selyra and Orguss were working together to bag four of them, the command crew of the Syreen raider vessel Ephemera.  Interestingly, only one of those desired Runners, the captain, was a Syreen.

Ephemera was a back-door black ops joint venture between elements of the Republic, the Gaianesians, and the Syreen to really put the hurt on the Slavers.  Talana was the most cunning and combat-experienced captain in what was left of the Syreen Space Patrol, and her ship was the fastest and most agile in a fleet already noted for swiftness.  It had apparently been upgraded with significantly more powerful shields and weapons, based on the few available reports of it in combat, with distinct similarities to cutting-edge experimental Gaianesian and Republic designs.

Aboard this heavily-modified Syreen ship were the two most dangerous women in the galaxy.

Pah-Gi Kahtah was a massive brute of a woman, a full two meters tall and more heavily muscled than Gina even at her best.  What data was available suggested some kind of "Super Soldier" program, though Agharan analysts insisted no one group could have been responsible for it.  The conclusion was that it was the result of combined Republic, Gaianesian, and Syreen research.

But the most dangerous woman was undoubtedly Feniss Black.  Gaianesian, but with a rare mutation that granted her immense psychic power, able to completely control or outright destroy any mind she had a line of sight to.  Pah-Gi could break you without even paying attention, Feniss could force you to gun down your allies or simply make you stop being alive.

But what really pissed the Slavers off, what made this ship and its crew a priority for this year's run, was the existence and identity of their intelligence officer, recently discovered by Busorold.

Lana Korolin was a Republic Intelligence agent still officially on their payroll, though she was listed as "on indefinite leave."  Someone in Republic Intelligence had ordered, or authorized, or at least declined to notice that she was now working with Gaianesians and Syreen, two species the Republic officially had as much to do with as they did the Slavers.  And while Republic under-the-table support of Aghara-Penthay was considerable, it was all on personal initiative and out of private pockets.  Lana was getting paid by the Republic to be aboard a Syreen vessel with Gaianesians in its crew, and was passing on classified Republic intelligence.  It's why Ephemera had been so thoroughly savaging Slaver interests.

Everyone admitted that, if Selyra and Orguss could bring the ship and crew in, it would earn them legendary praise and make for one of the best Rape Runs in recent memory.  But it was far more likely the Slavers would either be looking for two new Faction Leaders or consolidating down to three Factions.

Speculation on who Busorold would turn up with was rampant, but it always was, and always wrong.

---

Two weeks later, we were off.  Jeri Ryan and Hayley Atwell had been run to ground, Salvish had caught his two donations, and the call went out to board for Aghara-Penthay and the Rape Run.

I got everything I'd need together, and gave Gina and Alexandra my parting instructions.  Mostly involving not leaving the house unless they had to, keeping everything clean and safe for my return, and who they couldn't have sex with (pretty much everyone but each other).  My Platoon Second was a dependable fellow named Matt (who, as coincidences go, had won Anna Kendrick by providing information that took down three whole Resistance cells), and he was more than happy to check in on them a couple of times a week, especially since I made him and Anna exceptions to the "no-fuck" list.

With things on planet pretty much secure, I left the Slaver World of Terra for the Agonizer, my first trip to an alien world, and the Rape Run.
« Last Edit: August 10, 2021, 10:59:39 PM by ErikModi »

carhamgrater
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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #33 on: August 11, 2021, 11:50:27 AM »
(Of Course) Lucas will be damn close to the top of the leader board. Would love to see him loose Lucy during the contest. Will have to wait and see what transpires during the "Rape Run" Merit awarded from me!

Offline ErikModi

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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #34 on: August 11, 2021, 11:20:48 PM »
This is a work of fiction.  The events within did not, probably will not, and definitely should not occur.  Any opinions expressed are those of the characters in the story, not the author.  None of the characters are real people, even the ones based on real people.  This is a fantasy for consenting adults.  If you cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality, please seek appropriate counseling.

12 -- Aghara-Penthay

The trip to Aghara-Penthay was uneventful.  Which is not to say I wasn't beside myself at traveling on a massive spaceship to an alien planet.  The first human to do so!  (Aside from the Terran slaves aboard the Agonizer and Sophist Guile, but they don't count.)

I spent most of my time familiarizing myself with the Zone in the holorange and with the other members of Dusahn's posse, or getting checked out on the Agharan gear I'd need to use during my stay.  I had tons of fun learning to fly a speederbike.

Lucy was deliriously happy now that she didn't have to compete with Gina and Alexandra for my dick.  After only two days out from Terra, she had a satisfied look to her face that stayed for most of our trip.

Entering hyperspace was a non-issue, I only knew by the announcement that it was about to happen, then that it had happened successfully.  Same for reverting to realspace.

All told, it was twelve days from Terra to Aghara-Penthay.

A full fleet was orbiting the planet, including the Home Defense Dreadnought, a few battleships, and a large array of cruisers and raiders.  Transports streaked in near-visible lanes to and from the trading station, as close as most visitors ever got to the planet.  Only the Slavers and their honored guests were allowed to set foot on the actual planet.  And until me, being a Slaver's "honored guest" was very, very bad news for you.

Salvish and Dusahn took their donations in private shuttles straight to the surface to be specially Processed for the Run.  I was encouraged to explore the station and get a taste of real Agharan living, I would be notified when it was time for the Leaders to start gathering and preparing their posses.

Despite being down to the wire on getting the donations in, Salvish and Dusahn were the first to arrive with theirs, but only just.  The day after we'd arrived, the Scorekeeper and Dominator, the dreadnoughts of Selyra and Orguss respectively, arrived.  Towing between them that most troublesome ship, Ephemera.

The Syreen had clearly put up a valiant fight, but Selyra and Orguss had just as clearly been patient and careful with their attack.  Even so, the ship would never fly again.  The Agharan engineers who boarded reported that so much ion cannon fire had been poured into Ephemera that every single circuit and relay was fused.  They were still going to drydock it and take it apart to try and figure out its enhancements, but weren't holding out much hope.

Of the four thousand crew, eighty percent had been taken alive, including the four members so desirable for the Rape Run.  Selyra and Orguss decided between them that she'd donate Pah-Gi and Lana, he would donate Talana and Feniss.

As for the rest of the crew, Salvish stepped in.  Negotiations were had, and Selyra especially was displeased with the outcome.  200 of the surviving crew were Gaianesian, five were rogue Republic citizens of its founding Solan species.  The Solans were to be Processed and made public slaves.  The Gaianesians were held captive and auctioned, their eventual owners getting to decide their precise programming.  Of the 3,000 Syreen, half were to be Processed as public slaves, with 500 of those going to Terra as a reward for proving ourselves.  The remaining 1,500 were still going to be Processed, but relocated to a breeding colony the Agharans had set up.

This had been another of Salvish's brainwaves that led to him being known as The Diplomat.  It was highly unlikely the Syreen could sustain viable population growth if they kept only raiding and capturing alien males for breeding stock.  But if the Agharans could maintain a stable breeding population of implanted Syreen, not only would they preserve the species, but also give the free Syreen an alternative.  Many wouldn't take it no matter how dire their species' straits became, but some would.  The drive to ensure the species survived would, Salvish was confident, eventually see them act against their own personal interests.

Of course, I don't need to tell you Terra enthusiastically supports this idea, not after our trouncing of the Christmas Raid saw us setting up our own Syreen breeding colony.

The goal, Salvish said, was to make the Syreen, one of the rarest and most valuable of slave species, common enough that eventually, every man might own one.  He'd been considering something similar with Gaianesians, but their four-to-one male-to-female birth ratio was a stumbling block.  He just wasn't sure the Slavers needed that much an influx of manpower, and was concerned what Gaianesian males might actually be like.  Sure, the Gaianesians said they'd been unrepentant and prolific rapists of women until their uprising, but was that the truth?  Did they even know for sure?  Unpacifed Gaianesian males hadn't existed in centuries.

---

It was my third day on the station.  I'd investigated a few of the shops and bought a few high-tech toys I couldn't wait to try at home, mostly on Alexandra.  I was sitting at a table on the mezzanine, debating on if I wanted to take Lucy and see what was on offer in the Palace of Roses, when a shadow fell over the table.

"She your slave?" a gruff, gravely, deep voice boomed.

I looked up at the imposing, alien features of Selyra.  She wore a pitted and worn plasteel chest plate, sculpted to accommodate her massive bosom.  Leather ties secured trinkets and trophies to her bare arms, her brick-red hair was done in dreadlocks.  Tight leggings had plasteel plates attached to protect her thighs and shins, though her feet were bare.  The leggings seem to end at the tops of her thighs, connected to her belt by thin straps, a short leather skirt guarded her nethers.  "She is," I replied, trying not to sound cowed, but also keep any possible hint of challenge or disrespect out of my voice.

Selyra regarded Lucy, who shrank before her.  I'm not sure how Lucy recognized that Selyra was not just a female like her, and thus likely a slave, but she did, and her usual haughty air when dealing with other women evaporated.  Selyra looked her up and down, paying special attention to her tits, prominent beneath her slave wrap, then leaned a bit closer and sniffed deeply.  Then, seemingly satisfied, Selyra nodded.  "Good pick.  Soft prey, but in all the good ways.  Solan?"

I shook my head.  "Terran."

Selyra's yellow eyes widened.  "She Terran, mean you Terran too?"

I nodded.

Selyra smiled.  It seemed friendly, but there were a lot of very obviously carnivorous teeth in it.  "You Lucas.  Me Selyra."  She thrust out her arm, palm up.  I moved my arm over it, not sure what to do.  She grabbed my arm, sliding my hand from her elbow down to the tips of her fingers, then flipped my arm so my palm was up, and stroked my arm the way she'd had me stroke hers.  "Good to meet you.  You hunt with us?  In Zone?"

I nodded.  "Dusahn invited me to join his hunting party."

Selyra nodded.  "Dusahn good hunter.  Better than me most days.  I show him up, though.  Maybe this year I rape most cunts first."  She motioned to an unoccupied chair.  "Me sit?"

"If you like."

She slid her bulky body into the chair, leaning back.  "Me heard Terrans fight well, slave their cunts fast under Salvish and Dusahn.  Me hear you Lucas best Terran, him Salvish and him Dusahn both want you hunt Zone with them.  You Lucas think you good enough to hunt Zone, catch Runner?"

I shrugged.  "Salvish and Dusahn seem to think so.  All I can do is bring my very best."

Selyra smiled that pleasant yet unnerving smile again.  "You Lucas speak true."  She beckoned over a waitress slave.  "Always bring best.  Anything less, you fail you."  She snarled something and the waitress left.

"Congratulations on bringing in Ephemera," I said, Selyra seemingly having finished her thought and not advancing another.  "I understand it's quite the prestigious catch."

There was no mistaking it this time, there was evil in Selyra's grin.  It made it even scarier, and I wasn't willing to speculate what I'd do to make sure that grin was never meant for me.  "Not so much as when me have her Pah-Gi sobbing for mercy on my cock.  Prove me Selyra strongest, best hunter!"

I wasn't sure how much it would prove, since the implant would keep Pah-Gi or any Runner from actively fighting back, but I was a guest here, and it's bad form to be rude.  Especially when one of your hosts is a nightmare warrior shemale.

The waitress returned with a tray bearing two glasses containing an amber liquid.  Selyra took them, passing one to me.  "This," she made a sound like an angry cartoon wolf with a head cold.  "This warrior drink.  You try.  You finish, you impress me."

I pointed my sniffer -- a nifty device one of Dusahn's people gave me to warn of anything that would react poorly with my biochemistry -- at the glass.  It came up clean, not even an intoxicant warning.  I raised the glass and sniffed the liquid.  The odor was faint but cloying, though not unpleasant.  I took a sip. . .

It was not unlike apple cider, a bit bitter on the finish as though it had partly turned to vinegar, with a faint trace of heat.  It was good, though, and as I took another sip, Selyra raised hers and chugged.  I followed suit, and we set our empty glasses down within moments of each other.

"You warrior," she pronounced.  "You hunt well in Zone.  Pah-Gi mine, though.  You Lucas remember that."

I thought I had her figured out, so I grinned back.  "Seems to me she belongs to whoever catches her first."

Selyra let out a sharp bark which drew lots of looks, I'd learn later it was her laugh.  "Then me Selyra prove better hunter than you Terran.  Rape her Pah-Gi into submission, then give everyone but you Lucas turn."

I shrugged.  "And I'll think about giving you a turn when I catch her."

Selyra barked again.  "You Lucas not prey, that certain.  We see in Zone if you true hunter, but me think so."  She stood.  "You Lucas enjoy Slaver planet.  But save strength for Zone."  With that, the crimson-skinned Faction Leader wandered off again.

---

There was certainly a lot to see and do on the Station.  I got to talk with a few tourists from the Republic, who appreciated how free and unfettered Agharan society was.  Even the women enjoyed knowing they had no legal rights, they were, under Agharan law, already the property of the men escorting them.  He could walk her into Processing and have her implanted and she had absolutely no means to stop him.  I met two Republic women who were actually there specifically to get implants.  They loved the idea of giving their husbands total control over them, to submit utterly and promote their men to "Master."  Lucy was very happy to find two kindred spirits.

There were a pair of Gaianesian tourists, escorted by a professional Agharan tour guide, well-respected (and well-paid because of it) for his very high success rate at bringing his female tourists back.  So long as they listened to what he had to say, they wouldn't give the Slavers any excuse to implant them.  The two Gaianesians sneered at all the men while gazing longingly at all the slaves.  Since pacified males had been the norm on their world for hundreds of years, lesbianism had been the norm on their world for hundreds of years.  So they appreciated all the gorgeous, obedient women in their scant, thin wraps as much as I did.

Or that was the theory.  Some claimed that deep down they remembered what they were meant to be, and stared at the slaves not in lust, but in jealousy.  They could never admit to themselves how much they wanted a simple implantation gun to free them from the shackles of duty and propriety and responsibility the Matriarchy trapped them in.  A mandatory tour of military service.  A mandatory pregnancy that can only be aborted if the fetus is male.  Get disapproving looks if your hair is too long.  Get functionally exiled if your brown spots show even a tinge of purple, and in the process deny the exquisite pleasure your body is hard-wired for by evolution.  Or accept the implant, the Slaver way, and never have to worry about anything ever again, because your Master will take care of you.

I don't know that I believed that theory. . . but I didn't disbelieve it, either.

But most foolishly of all, there was a group of six girls from one of the big Republic universities, no male escort or guide.  They'd been warned repeatedly, at every leg of their journey, that once they entered Slaver space they had no legal rights or protections, and without a male accompanying them they had to be on their absolute best behavior to have a chance of going home, and even then it wasn't certain.  Surrounded by Slavers in the very heart of their territory, any man could simply decide "I want them," and that was it.  The only possible protection they had was being well-connected enough that the Slavers wouldn't want to risk angering someone rich or powerful by capturing them.

That was ruled out before their transport docked.  And they didn't make it an hour after setting foot on the Station.

For starters, they refused to wear the wraps that were mandatory for females on Aghara-Penthay (the only exceptions were Runner uniforms or being completely naked. . . I'd even been discouraged from putting Lucy in any of my wrap alternatives).  Instead they wore what was commonly fashionable "out to have a good time" clothes for Republic women of their age group.  Any man who approached, no matter how open or friendly his demeanor, was given an icy glare times six, and if he didn't take the hint he was either brusquely told to essentially "fuck off," hastily evaded, or scathingly insulted until he gave up and went away.

That last they'd done to one of Dusahn's men.

He caught up with them with twelve of his fellows who surrounded the girls and cut them out of the crowd in an excellent display of human pack hunting tactics.  When the girls tried to assert that they were tourists and the Slavers couldn't touch them, the men responded by doing exactly that.  The girls were stripped and thrown to the floor with minimal struggle.  As they begged and screamed and cried, the men took turns raping all of them, and when they'd had their fill, offered a go to anyone in the crowd who wanted one.  Several men took advantage of the offer, including some Republic tourists I'd spoken with.  One told the girls they were getting exactly what they deserved for being stupid and coming here with no men to watch out for them and acting like entitled bitches on top of it.

Once the girls were thoroughly used, they were taken to Processing.  One of them would be going home. . . her father had elected to buy her as a slave rather than pay for her safe return.

No female is truly safe on Aghara-Penthay.

---

Two days later, right before the deadline, Busorold showed up with his donations, and once again everyone marveled at his ability to acquire the most unattainable targets.

First, he brought the Orionian bounty hunter Melara, who sold wanted criminals to the Republic for embarrassing sums of credits.  If a male captive, particularly a Slaver, wasn't worth enough money, she had another use for them.  Her Orionian pheromones were particularly strong, able to make men literally addicted to her.  When she got bored with fucking them withdrawal killed them.  Her ship was all but invisible thanks to its sensor stealth modes, it could outfly, outgun, and outlast anything in its size class and outrun everything else.  Even if you could find her you couldn't catch her, and even if you could catch her you'd find yourself a fly who's caught a spider.  Yet here was Busorold, leading her through the station in a red slave wrap and chains.

His second donation was a famous voice for feminism in the Republic, Brenna Sarol.  More than just feminism, she was constantly building support and pressure for opening official diplomatic relations and alliances with the Gaianesians and Syreen.  It was no secret her end goal was to build a coalition to wipe the Agharans -- and thus, now Terrans -- from the galaxy.  She was surprisingly deft at reasoning why the Gaianesians and Syreen were approachable and we were not, despite the pacification and raider breeding they practiced.  And people were starting to listen.  Even a prominent male politician had recently admitted that, if the Gaianesians didn't insist the Republic adopt their gender outlook, dialogue might be possible, even if he didn't speculate about it being productive.

These were indeed impressive captures, stoking the hate and desire to assert dominance in all the men gathered for this year's Rape Run.

With all the Runners being prepared, the opening festivities began in earnest, including the week-long "preliminary show," in which the host, Zanokol, began talking about any changes made this year, going over highlights from previous years, discussing and analyzing the Runners, where they stood in the rankings, and why, and interviewing the assorted important people in this year's run, culminating in the event where he would interview the Runners themselves the night before the Run began.

Trust me, I was as surprised as anyone when I was requested to come on his show.

carhamgrater
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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #35 on: August 12, 2021, 10:51:36 AM »
So an alien has taken a shine to Lucas, wondering how many others will after his interview! What offers for Lucy will he have before getting back to earth! Merit will be awarded from when when possible

Offline ErikModi

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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #36 on: August 12, 2021, 12:14:21 PM »
What offers for Lucy will he have before getting back to earth!

You know. . . it's funny you should mention that. . .

All I'll say is, she's my avatar here for a reason.

Well, two reasons.

Offline ErikModi

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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #37 on: August 12, 2021, 11:18:50 PM »
This is a work of fiction.  The events within did not, probably will not, and definitely should not occur.  Any opinions expressed are those of the characters in the story, not the author.  None of the characters are real people, even the ones based on real people.  This is a fantasy for consenting adults.  If you cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality, please seek appropriate counseling.

Warnings:  Referenced Snuff/"To Serve (Wo)Man", humiliation, sadistic choices

13 -- Interview

It was the third day of Zanokol's lead-up to the Rape Run special.  He'd already spoken with this year's organizers about any new rules, precautions, features, or wrinkles added.  He'd spoken with the Faction Leaders about their donations, the acquisition thereof, if they had any special plans or tactics this year (which they were generally cagey about), what they felt about their chances of winning, if there were any Runners they'd be particularly gunning for, and some slight teases on any special plans they had if they caught a specific Runner.

Then he moved on to lesser, but still important, interviews.  I was near the top of that list, much to my surprise.  I took my first trip down to the surface to appear on his show.

Zanokol did certainly not match my perception of a Slaver, but I suppose a lot of Terrans don't match Agharan expectation, either.  His hair was permanently modified to shockingly bright blue, his outfits are never anything short of fabulous, and his speech and mannerisms are highly effeminate, at least from my perspective.  Having seen him in action, though, I can attest he's as much a Slaver at heart as I am.  He's even got a subtle, wry, but very extreme mean streak.  The assorted humiliations the Runners suffer on his show?  All from his ingeniously twisted imagination.

"So," Zanokol said, standing in the middle of the stage.  "We've heard about the new aliens joining our Rape Run this year, the Terrans supplied by Dusahn and Salvish.  But tonight, we're going to get to know a Terran who's become exalted among us, invited to join Dusahn's hunting party.  Please help me in welcoming, to Aghara-Penthay, the show, and the Rape Run, Lucas Trent!"

As the crowd applauded the stage manager motioned me to step out, so I did.

The show was filmed in a massive auditorium that seated thousands, and was being broadcast to trillions more across Agharan, Republic, and even Gaianesian and Syreen space.  Back on Terra, people would be watching me, local boy made good in the most spectacular way.

I'd never really suffered from stage fright, because I'd never particularly wanted to be on stage.  But here, knowing I was one of the few, that I was important, filled me with confidence and joy.

I strode out, waved to the audience.  Zanokol held out his hand, and I shook it firmly.  He motioned me to his desk (not unlike the desk of any talk show host), indicated the chair by it, and we took our seats as the applause died down.

"Okay," he began.  "The first thing I have to ask is what are you wearing?"

I grinned.  I'd been sticking with my GAG uniform, mostly because I didn't trust my ability to pull off the eclectic outfits of Dusahn's crew with the requisite coolness.

"Salvish, when he started working us towards your way, established Galactic Apprenticeship Groups where humans like me could learn from you.  This is our uniform."

Zanokol nodded.  "Salvish does like his uniforms.  But it looks like you learned well, Lucas.  Very impressive.  I've read some of the reports from Terra, and, just, wow.  Good show."

I smiled and nodded.  "Thank you, I do my best."

"Your best is quite good, I have to say.  Now, am I to understand, you actually captured the very first Terran slaves?  Personally?"

"Yes, yes I did."

"And you kept one?"

I shrugged.  "She was more of a gift from Salvish.  A pat on the back, as we say."

Zanokol paused for effect, casting a glance towards his audience.  "Quite a pat."  There was a ripple of laughter.  "But you still caught -- not sure I'm saying this right -- Guyna Kara-no all on your own?"

"Gina Carano," I corrected.  "And yes."

"Now, you've actually been kind enough to provide us a picture, mind if I throw it up there for the folks?"  I shook my head.  "Alright."  A hologram appeared, in front of us and off to one side.  Gina was in her tube top and short skirt, posing next to me.  "Yow.  That's a big girl.  Okay, what is she wearing?"

"Well, while Salvish was moving covertly, building support, I couldn't parade Gina around in her wrap.  But I wanted to be able to put her in something that would make it clear to any of your people what she was."

Zanokol studied Gina's holo a moment.  "Well, I'd say you succeeded."  There was another ripple of laughter.  "Now, I understand Gina is something of an important person on your world.  Or was, before you got your hands on her."

I nodded.  "She was an MMA fighter turned actress."

Zanokol shook his head.  "I have no idea what that means, Em Em Ay."

"Well, we have a lot of different unarmed combat techniques, martial arts, from various cultures around the world.  Boxing, karate, muay thai, tae kwon do, Krav maga, jeet kun do, just to name a handful.  So naturally, debates rose up about which is best.  Would a Golden Gloves boxer beat a black belt in karate?  Mixed Martial Arts started as a definitive attempt to answer that in the most obvious way possible:  put them in a ring and have them fight.  Over time, it's morphed into kind of taking the best aspects of a wide range of martial arts and mashing them together into something that's maximally effective, at least for competition."  I turned to look out at the cameras.  "And if I just butchered that explanation horribly, I'd like to apologize to my fellow Terrans who are fans and could do a much better job of explaining it than me."

Zanokol nodded.  "I think I get it.  She was a gladiator."

Eh, close enough.  "After a fashion."

"Impressive. "  Zanokol consulted the directed display in his desk.  "And then, this is the part that really interests me, you went on to be instrumental in securing Terra.  Most impressive."

I shrugged.  "I don't know about 'instrumental.'"

"Well, you did fight consistently on the front.  Bagged a lot of slaves.  Got a mole in the Resistance.  Helped with the plan that pretty much put them down."

I shook my head.  "Not so much the last one.  I did advocate for it, though.  And Lucy -- that was my mole -- her information and ability to corroborate false intelligence did help us bait the trap."

"And now you're here, to hunt the Zone with Dusahn.  But I understand Salvish invited you, too.  Why not stick with him?"

"Dusahn made me a better offer."

"Ah," Zanokol said, grinning widely, showing large, blindingly white teeth.  "Got your eye on a certain Runner, have you?"

I nodded a bit sheepishly.  "Jeri Ryan."

Zanokol nodded.  "Pretty high in our Most Wanted rankings, given that -- well, no offense -- no one in the larger galaxy really cares about Terrans yet.  But, we've been following the reports of these women's actions, and I just want to clarify something. . . that trap, that you used to nearly end your Female Resistance, that came pretty close to costing all of us a great deal, didn't it?"

I winced.  I'd been warned about how to address this topic if it ever came up.  "Yeah.  But we really needed irresistible bait to draw the Resistance out, so the plans had to be real.  Dusahn and Salvish were on top of it, ready to scramble word if they made it past us.  Which they didn't."

"And a good thing.  Still, it's earned your Terrans some ill will from our viewership.  Not as much as the more famous Runners, but enough.  Are you sure you'll still want Jeri after the sponsors get done with her?"

I nodded.  "Absolutely.  I've been lusting after her for, what, twenty years?"

"Well, I can see why."  A holo of Jeri popped up on stage, taken recently.  She hadn't been Processed yet, as evidenced by her shackles, but wore a red slave wrap (the Runners weren't private slaves yet, even if that was their ultimate fate if caught).  During the trip, she'd been de-aged in a healing tank to her Seven of Nine prime.  Whistles, catcalls, and a few cries of "Rape the bitch!" sounded from the audience.  "Quite a specimen.  I have to ask -- you supplied us with pictures of your other slaves, can I show the audience just to prove my point?"

"Go ahead."

Holos of Lucy and Alexandra appeared, Alexandra in her wrap, Lucy in her tube top and short shorts.  "Do they just grow them really big on your world?" Zanokol asked, indicating the expansive sets of breasts barely concealed.

"Nah.  We have our fair share of representatives of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee."  I was pleased that comment earned me a good round of laughter.  "I just got lucky."

"And are looking to get luckier still.  You know Dusahn can only give Jeri to you if his Faction catches her?"

"I do."

"Any special plans to go about finding her?"

"Not as such.  I've done what research I can on the Zone, I'll just have to see how things develop.  Everyone keeps telling me I've got good Slaver instincts, I guess I'll see if they lead me true."

"Well said.  Well, thank you for joining us, Lucas, and I, for one, wish you the very best of beginner's luck."

"Thank you."

---

The week wound on with more of the Rape Run Preliminary Show.  Initially I watched avidly, hoping for any details or last-minute insight that would give me an edge, but my interest quickly waned.  Exploring the station was much more fun.

I entered Lucy in a sex show, six slaves kissing, licking, and groping her for the entertainment of a sizeable audience.  Poor thing was thrumming with her need to come by the time she was done.  I spotted one of the Republic women who'd come to get an implant, and her husband and I watched as she ate Lucy out with vigor (after which Lucy was positively whimpering with the desire to touch my cock, any cock, just so she could climax).  Funny, I remember her mentioning her husband had promised not to turn her bi, since she didn't like women.

Oh well.

I finally relieved Lucy's desperate need to orgasm by letting her suck my cock.  After thoroughly using one of the brand new Syreen slaves available in the Palace of Roses.

---

The day before the Run, I received word to meet in the trading station's hangar bay, to shuttle down to the surface with the other Hunters.  We were shown to our billets in Dusahn's barracks, in the complex adjacent to the Zone where all the Rape Run preliminaries were squared away.  From the small room's vid screen I could keep up with final remaining preparations.

Finally came the night before the Rape Run, and the main event of the preliminary show.

The interviewing of the Runners.

It started with the Runners being paraded from the area containing their holding cell to the auditorium.  They were hobbled, their wrists and necks locked into "detached pillories," hinged metal plates that closed around their wrists and necks.  This held their arms away from their bodies, so we could drink in every detail.

They all had the symbol of Aghara-Penthay tattooed over their right eye, swirling over their brow, down their temple, across their cheekbone, and up the bridge of their nose.  Any long hair was pulled back and pinned in place, assuring they could do nothing to conceal the shameful brand.  They would forever be marked as captives of Aghara-Penthay, known as Runners, even if they won their freedom.  It was a warning to all the other women in the galaxy:  sooner or later, we're coming for you, too.

The uniforms for the Runners changed every year.  One year had seen them in basically Princess Leia's "Jabba's slave" outfit, though they tended towards functional while still being sexy.  Dusahn had pushed for this year's design upon capturing his donations, and thus all ten Runners appeared in Seven of Nine's silver catsuit.



Agharan technology made the suit what it had been meant to be, with a few uniquely Agharan improvements.  It was tight, but wouldn't strangle the wearer, or impede their respiration or circulation.  It would breathe and wick sweat, keeping them, while not cool, in no danger of heat stroke.  And it didn't require the women to be sewn or glued into it.  As for special Agharan innovations, the fabric was so tight and so thin each woman sported obvious camel toe, and you didn't have to look hard to spot the shape of their nipples and areolae beneath the cloth.  The high heels had been replaced with functional hiking shoes, but the real change was in how the garments fastened.

Around the Runners throats, delicate silken scarves were tied, the colors communicating important facts.  The first shows what will happen to a Runner after the Run if she loses.  Red scarves are for sex slaves, green are for breeding slaves, and gray is. . . well, the worst.  I think, anyway.  Maybe some women would prefer death as a banquet for those particularly carnivorous species of alien to a (granted, implant-enforced) happy life as a sex or breeding slave.  Women are weird.

Surprisingly to me, Fennis Black had a green scarf.  It was later explained to me that the hope was her mutation could be bred into the Agharan species, or that she might have a higher chance at birthing daughters.  Even both could be desirable, if the mutant girls were kept under control and eventually used to perpetuate the breeding program.  Salvish's first donation, Gal Gadot, also had a green scarf.  Apparently the Agharans saw something in her they liked.  No gray this year, all the others were in red.

The second and third scarves are a presence-absence thing.  The white scarf marked a woman as a virgin (as determined by penetration with an actual cock attached to a living male), and made her a very, very hot property in the Run.  Who didn't want to see a virgin run down, caught, and raped hard by men like us?

Fennis had a white scarf, as did Brenna.

The final scarf is blue.  If a woman wears it, it means she has a strong sexual preference for other women.

No one who was keeping tabs on galactic events was surprised that Brenna wore the blue scarf to compliment her white one.  She'd always given the impression she'd be perfectly happy if every sapient male in the universe spontaneously dematerialized.  Fennis also wore the blue scarf (expected for a Gaianesian), and to my surprise so did Salvish's other donation, Katheryn Winnick.  The real surprise was Talana wearing blue, given how successful she'd been capturing men for her species.  Seeing blue scarves without an accompanying white scarf was always interesting.  Were they unable to admit their homosexual leaning, even to themselves, until the implant forced the truth out of them?  Were they bisexual enough to like men but strongly prefer women?  Had they known all along and hidden it, fucking men because it was expected of them?

The Runners were paraded through the halls and corridors of the Run Processing complex.  Many were on hand to get a close look at the women who would soon be fighting for their freedom, jeers and insults and verbal abuse were heaped upon them, but none were allowed to touch them.

Not yet.

Finally, they disappeared into the backstage areas of the auditorium, to be prepared for the interviews.  Spectators rushed to their seats or their vid screens.

Zanokol started the show ten minutes later, opening by welcoming us to another exciting year of the Rape Run, giving a brief overview of the rules and stakes, and letting everyone know where they could subscribe to watch the event live, pay for edited episodes as they became available, or pre-order the year's full feature when it was cut together for maximum entertainment value.

Then he introduced his guests, starting with Talana.  I'll skip all the interviews, because you can see them yourself.  You're here for my perspective, and I cared about the Terrans.  One Terran in particular.

The Terrans all went last.  The first one up was Katheryn Winnick.

She glared foully as she stumbled on to the stage, yanked by a handler holding the chain leash clipped to her yoke.  Her gaze held murder, threatening to tear every single male she saw limb from limb with her bare hands.

The audience thought it was hilarious.

The leash was clipped to Zanokol's desk to ensure Katheryn stayed in place, and the handler withdrew.

"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you -- I hope I'm saying this right, I've been practicing -- Kat-Erin Vinitch?"

She spat something foul-sounding in Ukrainian.

Zanokol's eyebrows shot up.  "Well, that certainly set me right," he commented to the audience, who laughed again.  He turned back to Katheryn.  "So, Kat. . . tell me, how does it feel being one of the first Terran Runners?  Being, in point of fact the first Terran Runner interviewed on our stage?  That's quite an achievement!"

"It feels horrible!" She shouted.  "I don't want to be here, I don't want any of this, and I want to beat the shit out of you!"

The implants were mostly deactivated, but for the interview show, one additional function was enabled:  the Runners couldn't lie.

Zanokol chuckled.  "I'm sure you do.  But you know you can't, right?  Even as a Runner, you're incapable of harming men."

"Unlock these chains and let's find out," she answered darkly.

"Oh, tempting," Zanokol said, voice thick with sarcasm.  "But I rather think I prefer you this way.  Well, maybe not entirely.  You're not aware of this, your world being unenlightened until now, but I like to do a little something special each year for our special guests during the show.  Just my little way of saying thank you for your contribution."  He consulted the directed display on his desk.  "Seventeen Aru Besk nova?"

There was a loud whoop from the audience and a man made his way up to the stage.  Security allowed him up and he jogged to stand next to Zanokol's desk.

"Congratulations…?"

"Wendotrisk."

"Congratulations, Wendotrisk."  Zanokol turned back to Katheryn.  "This year, random volunteers from the audience get to keep you company during the show.  Now, I understand you Terrans like choices, so it's just your luck I'm handing them out this year.  You can choose to let this man do anything he wants to you with his hands for the remainder of our talk, or. . . you can suck his cock."

The audience erupted, as they had for every other Runner.  Shouts of "On your knees, cunt!" and "Strip her titties!" and "Spank that ass, make her sing!" and "Choke on it, you dumb bitch!" and more resounded.

Katheryn was aghast, stuck between two impossible decisions.  She hadn't shown her naked body publicly before, and given the option, this man would almost certainly bare her.  But the alternative was to give a blowjob in front of who knows how many people?  Which was worse?  Which was less humiliating?  Was there any such thing?

Despite the audience continuing to root for one choice or another, Zanokol just looked at Katheryn patiently, waiting for her to decide.  Each moment she put off the choice seemed a respite, but in fact drove the horror of her dilemma home all the more.  For a certain subset of the audience (myself included), this subtle, psychological torment was as entertaining as if she was naked, pinned on her back, screaming and writhing as she was forcefully fucked.

Finally, Katheryn bowed her head, tears welling in her blue eyes, and slowly, carefully, sank to her knees.

The crowd cheered raucously, and Wendotrisk grinned, opening his pants and stepping up to Katheryn.  She meekly raised her head and opened her mouth, he guided his stiffening cock between her lips.

It was hardly the world's best blowjob.  She had zero enthusiasm, but did her best to overcome her reluctance and use her lips and tongue.  It was clear she hadn't often given head, if ever, and it was hard to tell if the revulsion on her face was from Wendotrisk having a particularly unpleasant cock, the fact she was being forced to suck a cock in general, or her being forced to do so before a galaxy-wide audience.

Every so often her body wracked, either from Wendotrisk hitting her gag reflex or a suppressed sob.  But she did well enough that Wendotrisk came in timely fashion, spilling his seed in Katheryn's mouth, where she retched and spat it out.

"Well, I hope that's not going to be indicative of your performance in the Run," Zanokol said as Wendotrisk took his seat again and Katheryn got unsteadily to her feet.  "You're not going to want to annoy whoever catches you."

Katheryn didn't respond, even a lot of the fire had left her glare.  The strings of spunk dripping from her lower lip probably had a lot to do with that.  Unable to even wipe her mouth with her hands held in the stocks, she could do nothing but let it decorate the bottom of her lovely face.

"Or do you think you've got a chance at winning?"  Katheryn shrugged as well as she was able.  "Alright, let's talk technical.  We rank Runners in two categories.  The first is based on their observed skills and personality, how well we think they'll do running for their freedom in the Zone.  Now, you Terrans are largely an unknown quantity, but. . . well, look what you're up against.  A gigantic slab of super solider, a tenacious pirate captain, a tenacious bounty hunter, a highly decorated spy, a super-powered mutant. . . even the failed singer turned misandrist spokeswoman knows more about the ins and outs of the Zone than you.  Where do you think that places you in our ranking of Most Likely To Win?"

Katheryn swallowed and cleared her throat.  "Not high, I take it."

Zanokol shrugged.  "It's one of those good-news-bad-news situations.  Good news, you're actually ranked highest among the Terrans.  Bad news, that still places you seventh.  Worse news, it's been sixteen years since someone who wasn't in the top four Most Likely made it to the end.  And I don't think it's ever been someone as low as seventh."

Katheryn actually smirked.  "You think I have no chance?"

"You think you do?"

"Maybe."

Zanokol smiled.  "I appreciate your moxie, sister.   Now, I do have a bit of legitimate good news for you, so far as it goes.  Our second ranking is based partly on how pretty a Runner is, but mostly on how deeply they've pissed us off, how much we want to punish them for that.  Basically, how much we want to see them lose.  It's called the 'Most Want To See Raped' category."  Zanokol savored the look of horror that crossed Katheryn's face, but didn't stop.  "This category is determined largely by sponsorship.  The more men pay to sponsor a Runner, and the more they pay to do so, the higher up the ranking she climbs.  The highest donation tiers get a turn with their sponsored Runner after the main event, assuming she isn't the winner, but the lower tiers will still be there in spirit."  Zanokol didn't elaborate on that; the one spot the Terrans had the edge was that a lot of viewers were looking forward to their reactions when they figured it out.  "And there's no rule that says you can only sponsor one Runner, whatever you can afford."  Katheryn's look of horror was now full-fledged terror as the economical, industrial aspects of the Run were laid bare for her.  Her blue eyes flashed with something verging on panic.  "Care to guess where you are in this category?  A decent-looking cunt from a planet most of us hadn't heard of until last week, who has only amounted to a minor annoyance at best?"  Katheryn shook her head frantically, and Zanokol's grin turned mockingly evil.  "Dead fucking last."

Poor Katheryn Winnick, this seemed ever her lot in life.  So much awesome, so unappreciated for it.

"Now, I say this is good news because it means your implant will only send out a tracking ping twice a day.  Combined with your high ranking for a Terran, and the fact that it's possible we've underestimated your people -- your friend Lucas is certainly a good example --" Katheryn's eyes flashed, she knew me!  "And you just might have a chance."  Zanokol smiled sweetly, but his eyes were pure menace.  "But I wouldn't bet on it."

Katheryn was silent.  Deep, shuddering breaths helped her get control over herself, but also did marvelous things to her ample breasts in her skintight suit.

"But, let's talk about you," Zanokol said, suddenly all sunshine and friendship.  "You've got a blue scarf.  When did you first realize you preferred sex with women?"

Katheryn blushed furiously.  "When your people were asking me all those deeply personal questions."

Zanokol grinned the grin of a man with a gift he didn't deserve, but very much appreciated.  "So, we helped you learn something profound and important about yourself.  That's good, right?  Want to thank us?"

"I very much don't."

Zanokol sighed, turning to the audience.  "That's gratitude for you."  That earned him another laugh.

Zanokol turned back to Katheryn.  "What's your strategy?  Any allies in the works?  Got a plan to link up with them somewhere?"

Katheryn rolled her eyes.  "I'm on an alien fucking planet, I don't even know if I can breathe out there!"

"You're breathing in here," Zanokol pointed out mildly, and the audience laughed again.  "But, seriously, no plans?  No thoughts?  Not even a concept?"

Katheryn shook her head.

"And the odds just dropped precipitously," Zanokol exclaimed, and once more the audience rippled with laughter.

Katheryn glowered.  A long strand of jizz that had been dangling from her chin, whipping about with her more violent head movements, now dripped to the floor.

"Just remember, if it ever gets to be too much, just call for a flare, some nice Slaver will be by to pick you up lickety-split."  More laughter.  "Anything else you want to share with us?  Last-second plans?  Regrets?  Invective?  Pleas for mercy?"  Katheryn shook her head.  "Well, then, I think that'll do it.  Thank you ever so much, Kat, you've been. . . a guest."

The handler led her offstage, towards the holding area that would be her last stop before the Run, while another brought out the next guest, Gal Gadot.

"So," Zanokol wasted no time.  "It says here that back on Terra you're famous for playing 'Wonder Woman.'  'Wonder Woman,' that makes no sense to me, what's a 'Wonder Woman?'"

"She's a hero," Gal said haughtily.  "A strong, proud, powerful warrior who shows women everywhere they never need to submit to filth like you!"

"Oh," Zanokol replied, unruffled.  "So. . . she's imaginary."

I wasn't sure if Gal didn't have a comeback or couldn't mentally translate it to English, the language the Agharan translators were programmed for.

Zanokol invited up the next randomly selected volunteer, and to my surprise, Gal elected to be felt up.  I figured that, since none of these women had done nude scenes or shoots before, they placed a higher premium on their bodies.  I was glad to be wrong.

The man began running his hands up and down the sides of her shimmering silver suit, Gal shuddered with disgust at his touch.

"So, making history," Zanokol said, as though his interviewee wasn't being molested.  "One of the first Terrans in the Rape Run.  You have to feel pretty good about that, right?"

"I'd rather be going down in history as the one who shoved my wedge heel up your collected butt!" Gal growled.

The volunteer zipped his hands up her front and squeezed her breasts.  Even with the shaping effect of the skintight suit, they were smaller than I thought they'd be.  Still impressive, definitely.

"Well, that transport is away," Zanokol replied, again getting a laugh.  "But now that you are here, got a strategy?  A plan to be the winner?  What do you think of your chances?"

"I haven't seen it, but I hear your Zone is a desert.  I know deserts, I trained and fought in them.  Your men should worry about me."  At that, the volunteer frowned, and gave Gal a solid smack on the ass, which made her squeak in pain and surprise, so he did it again.

Zanokol shook his head.  "Except you can't hurt our men.  They don't want to hurt you -- well, except for fun -- but they can.  If you're thinking of fighting your way free, I'd think again."

Gal winced and ground her teeth as the volunteer squeezed and kneaded her shapely behind.  When it was clear she didn't intend to respond to Zanokol's statement, he hauled off and gave her a massive spank that hit both cheeks, making her gasp sharply.

"But let's talk odds."  As the volunteer resumed squeezing her ass, her face contorted as she tried to hold in the embarrassing whimpers and even more embarrassing soft moans.  Zanokol again went over the categories.  "Want to know where you are?  In Most Likely, you're eighth.  Second-highest Terran, but still, not good odds."  He smirked.  "As for where you are in the Most Wanted category. . . ninth."

The volunteer had apparently been waiting for his cue, because he reached up, grabbed a double handful of Gal's suit over her breasts, and yanked down.  The catches along the shoulders and sides opened, and Gal Gadot's front was laid bare from neck to waist.  This got a rise out of her, making her shriek in shock and shame, then twist to try and hide her body from the audience.  The volunteer kept her facing out, letting the viewers feast their eyes on Gal Gadot's bare breasts.

"Those had something to do with it," Zanokol added, motioning the distinctly average mounds.  "Not bad, but your fellow Terran Runners have much more impressive tits."

Gal hung her head as much as the stocks allowed.  I'm sure I heard a soft sniffle, though others say no.

The volunteer squatted behind Gal, reached around to grab the loose, hanging front of her suit, and yanked down.  Invisible seams along the hips opened, the high-tech Agharan catch disguised as the seam between the front and back halves between her legs released, and the entire front of the garment came away.

Gal now looked like she was wearing the inverse of a one-piece swimsuit, arms covered to the shoulder, legs covered to the hip, but torso completely bare.  Despite her attempts to squeeze her thighs closed, the volunteer was able to wriggle his hand between them to rub her pussy lips.  His free hand gripped her left breast, squeezing what flesh there was hard between his fingers.

This time, there was no mistaking the humiliated cry that escaped Gal's lips.

Zanokol's grin was purely predatory.   "So, think you can surprise us?  Use your low rankings to come from behind and win this thing?"

Gal raised her head, some of her steel and fire returning.  Or she was really good at faking it.  "Yes," she snarled.  The volunteer pinched and pulled her nipple, fingers squirming between her clenched legs.  She winced and her knees trembled, but otherwise she didn't react.

"Well, we'll see.  Either way, should be fun."

Gal was led off, though her suit wasn't fastened back up while she was on stage.  Zanokol introduced the next Runner, Hayley Atwell.

Unlike the Hunters, who could watch as much or as little of the preliminary show as they liked, the Runners had no advance warning of it at all.  Seeing how each one dealt with the challenge Zanokol threw them was half the fun.

Hayley likewise agreed to be groped.  This surprised me a little less than Gal; Hayley had come close to doing some nudity and seemed in general more comfortable with flaunting her body.  Still, it was clear she was not displaying it now by choice, and only felt that sucking cock in front of everyone would be marginally more degrading.

The volunteer wasted no time popping her suit open and squeezing her huge tits, almost the size of Lucy's.  As Zanokol talked to her about being among the first Terrans in the Rape Run and chances, Hayley took it all with quiet, reserved stoicism, really leaning into the whole "stiff upper lip" thing.

Well, as much as she could.  If she hadn't noticed before she certainly did now that the sensitivity of her breasts had been increased.  Only to the same level I'd done with Alexandra, but a big change for such a chesty girl.  She clamped down on it as tightly as she could, but couldn't stop the odd pleasure moan or gasp from escaping her lips, or hide the tremor of arousal that was building in her body.

Her reaction to learning she was rated ninth Most Likely To Win was a simple "We'll see about that," which earned her a spank that she only reacted to with an almost-imperceptible widening of her eyes.  When Zanokol revealed she was number eight in the Most Want To See Raped category, she replied with a witheringly dry "Naturally."

The audience was not receptive to her reserved, British bravado.  They were baying for her to be taken, raped, tamed, and broken right there on the stage.  But she was a Runner, she had a shot at freedom just like the other nine.

Even so, Zanokol was determined not to let her off his stage until he'd gotten a proper rise out of her.  "You know, I'm not sure it's a good thing you chose to let our volunteer feel you up.  I'm sure you've noticed, but we've taken the liberty of making those fabulous tits of yours more sensitive."

"Men do only seem capable of thinking of one thing," Hayley agreed.  Try as she might to keep her tone casual, there was a definite breathiness she couldn't conceal.

“We've made a few other alterations, most of which you'll learn about in due course.  For now, though. . ."  Zanokol nodded to the volunteer, who caressed Hayley's lips before sticking his fingers in her mouth, wiggling them on her tongue.

Hayley's knees gave and she nearly collapsed as she gasped in surprise and bliss.  The volunteer kept her upright and removed his hand from her mouth to steady her.

"What the bloody fuck?" Hayley asked, composure briefly shattered.

Zanokol shrugged.  "A little simple neural rewiring.  Your lips are now as sensitive as your cuntlips, your tongue is now a second clit."  Zanokol flashed his brilliantly white, toothy, evil grin.  "Hope you like giving blowjobs, because. . . well, you do now."

Her dark eyes flashed with rage, her mouth opened and closed, but she couldn't find the words to vent her feelings about being so utterly, unbelievably defiled.  Finally, she let out a wordless scream of rage, hate, and anguish.

Zanokol nodded.  "Couldn't have said it better myself."

Finally, Zanokol sent Hayley on her way, bringing in the tenth and final Runner.

Jeri Ryan.  Watching the show from my bearth, my cock sprang to life as I saw her, young and smooth and high once more, in a suit that put the sexiness I'd first fallen for to shame.  Lucy took my dick between her tits once more and started pleasuring me while I watched.

"Ah, Jeri," Zanokol said.  "One of the more troublesome Female Resistance members.  Almost making off with those partial implant plans, how naughty."

Zanokol paused, but Jeri didn't respond.

"Must be interesting, having so much galactic attention focused on you."

Again Jeri didn't answer.

"Oh, the strong, silent type, I see.  You're going to have to answer me, you know."

Jeri's jaw flexed, straining not to answer.  The implant forced her to tell the truth, but saying nothing wasn't technically a lie.  The implant couldn't make her talk under current instructions, even as it was encouraging her to.

"Well, I think I have something here you'll feel compelled to respond to."  Zanokol called up the last volunteer.  There was a collective groan from the audience members who hadn't been selected to participate.

"Now, Jeri, you've got a choice.  Let this man do whatever he wants to you with his hands for the duration of our -- apparently rather one-sided -- talk, or give him a blowjob."

Jeri said nothing.

"Choose, Jeri."

She fixed Zanokol with her best icy blue death glare, and said in her most resolute Seven of Nine voice, "I will not comply."

"Oh, I think you will," Zanokol said.  He turned to the volunteer, digging his hand into his pocket.  "What do you want, grope or blowjob?"

"Grope!" the volunteer answered.

Zanokol produced a credit chit from his pocket.  "Call it," he said, flipping the coin in the air.

"Mark."

The coin hit Zanokol's desk, and Zanokol slammed his hand down on it to stop it deflecting any further.  "Void!" Zanokol exclaimed.  "Blowjob it is!"

Jeri struggled as the volunteer and handler approached, but between the chain leashing her to the desk, the rigid irons holding her head and hands up, the hobbles on her ankles, and the implant, she could offer no resistance.  They pushed her to her knees, and the volunteer freed his hard cock.

"Stop!  Let go of m-" Jeri's protests were cut off as the handler pinched the hinges of her jaw, forcing her mouth open.  Once the volunteer had guided his head past her plump lips, the handler let go.

The implant's "cannot harm males" programming is surprisingly comprehensive.  Obviously, Jeri couldn't bite her attacker's cock, but she couldn't even try and turn her head too fast, since that might scrape him with her teeth or trap his cock in her mouth and apply leverage in a way that would injure him.  She literally couldn't do anything but let him fuck her throat.

I watched the cock thrust between her gorgeously full lips, wishing it was mine.  Wishing she was looking up at me with the same worshipful expression Lucy now wore.  Or the hateful glare she was giving her current rapist.  Either way, I'd shoot my load down her throat, or spray it on her face, proving to her who was really in control. . .

I grunted and Lucy sighed in pleasure as I released all over her cleavage.

The volunteer finished not long after, spraying his come on her face.

"Lips feeling a little looser, now?" Zanokol asked helpfully.

As best she could with a faceful of jizz, Jeri glared.

"Guess not.  So, I'll just fill you in."  He went over the ranking system for the last time.  "In our Most Want To See Raped category, you're. . . seven!  Of ten, this time, but still.  That means you'll be sending a location ping five times every day.  In our Most Likely To Win category, based on what we know of your skills and personality, you're dead last.  That's a really bad combination of slots to be in.  My money says you'll be caught early, raped often.  What do you think?  Think I'm wrong?"

Jeri said nothing, her expression didn't change.  But her blue eyes were shining a bit more than usual.

"Looks like she agrees with me, folks!" he said to the audience.  "She who is silent is understood to consent and all."  The audience laughed.  "And from the look of things, I'd wager she's eager to get things started!  Let's not disappoint her."

Now doubt and fear appeared on Jeri's face as the handler led her away.  Not Zanokol nor anyone else actually had the power to move up or delay the start of the Rape Run, that was solely the province of local sunrise.  But it appeared Jeri didn't know that.

"Well, that's it for our show, everyone!  Review the rankings, place your bets or last minute sponsorships, and join us bright and early tomorrow morning as we commence the 122nd Annual Rape Run!  May the best cunts lose!"

I switched off the vid and picked up my datapad to go over the rankings, now that they'd been made public.

Talana:  3rd Most Likely To Win, 1st Most Want To See Raped.  Being Syreen would have guaranteed her a high spot regardless, but with all the damage she'd done to Slaver interests, catching, stripping, raping, and humbling her was a top priority.  It would send a powerful message to the other females of the galaxy.  I could see the appeal; with their teal skin, green eyes that reflected light like a cat's, hair colors that tended towards red, red-gold, and red-orange, and general disdain for more clothing than absolutely necessary, Syreen were incredibly hot, and this Syreen in particular was begging to be taught a lesson.

Pah-Gi Kahtah:  1st Most Likely To Win, 2nd Most Want To See Raped.  Another priority, to nip this super soldier program in the bud and prove that even the most powerful females could be brought to heel.  But that same power made her an unlikely catch, more for her speed and endurance than ability to fight off the Hunters once we caught her trail, since the implant would prevent that.  She was also beautiful, though in a severe way.  Bulging muscles across her entire frame, which can look surprisingly attractive.  Her black hair was cropped very short, her midnight blue eyes were dangerous.  And her tits. . . on Terra, women with muscles like that didn't have tits like hers unless they were fake.  Chalk one up for super soldier serum.

Feniss Black:  5th Most Likely To Win, 3rd Most Want To See Raped.  Her psychic powers were all but completely nullified thanks to the implant preventing her from using them to hurt men, but they could still give her a slight edge.  But with her powers largely stripped from her, she was deemed to be at a large handicap relative to the other Runners.  Her being Gaianesian and renowned as the most dangerous woman in the galaxy accounted for her scoring high "See Raped" marks.  Fennis was as delectably curvaceous as any Gaianesian I'd seen, but had copper-colored hair, evidently as a result of her mutation.  Her purple eyes were a normal, if rare, color for her species.  She also exhibited a certain meekness, now that her powers were mostly unusable, that made the prospect of catching her very enticing. 

Lana Korolin:  4th Most Likely To Win, 4th Most Want To See Raped.  Strictly average compared to the other Runners.  Ordinarily, her wide range of spy skills would stand her in good stead, but this year was hardly ordinary.  Tall, dark, busty, her skin, hair, and eyes almost the same uniform medium brown.  She carried herself in such a manner you knew she was accustomed to getting her way. 

Melara:  2nd Most Likely To Win, 5th Most Want To See Raped.  As a bounty hunter used to tracking her marks through any kind of environment or terrain, the Zone was highly unlikely to provide any challenges to Melara.  And while people certainly wanted to make her suffer, she was pretty small potatoes compared to the others.  Emerald skin, blue eyes, red-gold hair, curves as good as any of her fellow Runners, this was probably the only crowd in which she failed to distinguish herself.

Brenna Sarol:  6th Most Likely To Win, 6th Most Want To See Raped.  Another average contestant, with no special skills, abilities, or knowledge that would see her through.  And while we certainly wanted to see her made to pay for her misandrist stances, in a way, just entering her in the Rape Run destroyed most of her credibility.  If she won, it would be at the cost of other women she'd sworn to look out for, and it would take oratory skill she simply didn't possess for any statements about the threatening evil of Aghara-Penthay not to sound like personal rants at a group that wronged her.  The blue-eyed blonde wasn't quite as chesty as many of our other entrants, but chesty enough a lot of people had waited a long time to see if they were as magnificent as they seemed (after a lot of blubbering, she'd chosen to be groped for her interview, and the volunteer wasted no time solving that mystery.  Yes, by the way.)

Jeri Ryan:  10th Most Likely To Win, 7th Most Want To See Raped.  The latter was down almost entirely to her looks, a subject on which I think we've established I am far from unbiased.  But a few tales of the ingenuity and resilience of the Female Resistance of Earth had circulated, earning that peculiar form of respect that saw people sponsoring her to fail.  But Jeri just didn't have anything to recommend her as far as competency in a Rape Run goes.  She seemed rather soft and sheltered, not even possessing basic outdoorsman skills, never mind the ability to adapt to an alien planet and outsmart hardened hunters of cunt.

Hayley Atwell:  9th Most Likely To Win, 8th Most Want To See Raped.  Again mostly based on looks, and yeah, those tits are stupendous!  I get the feeling it was largely a coin toss between whether she or Jeri would be Least Likely, with maybe Hayley being naturally younger and having a few more action-oriented roles leading to the belief she was in slightly better shape, and thus would be slightly harder to catch.

Gal Gadot:  8th Most Likely To Win, 9th Most Want To See Raped.  This is where I think they were making a big mistake.  The Israeli Defense Forces are not people with whom to fuck lightly.  I didn't know if Gal's military service included combat, or even combat training, but she seemed to indicate it had.  And she had a point:  based on my limited geographical knowledge, the Zone was not that dissimilar in climate and terrain from the Middle East.  Combined with her low Most Wanted ranking, if I were a betting man, I'd bet on her to pull an amazing upset.

Katheryn Winnick:  7th Most Likely To Win, 10th Most Want To See Raped.  I confess, I have no idea why Katheryn was rated higher than Gal in Most Likely.  I can only imagine the Agharans found the very concept of Wonder Woman so laughably ridiculous they discounted everything else about Gal.  I didn't estimate Katheryn above her in that regard, though I felt she deserved higher in the Most Wanted.  She's hot!

I went over what I knew of the Runners and the Zone, started making plans, stopped, decided to just follow my gut, decided that was incredibly stupid and started making new plans because I'd forgotten the old ones.  Then decided this wasn't getting me anywhere and I needed a proper distraction.

Despite fucking Lucy until my legs didn't work and my dick hurt, I still couldn't unwind enough to fall asleep.  Two hours before we needed to be, I was on the muster line, ready to start my first Rape Run.

Ready to hunt.










carhamgrater
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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #38 on: August 13, 2021, 04:35:13 PM »
Is it so wrong to want to see Jeri Ryan caught first? if the galactic guys were impressed by Gal Gadot, I can just imagine what a young Lynda Carter would have dome to them! Please don't keep us in suspense, get down to the run! Merit to come from me!

Offline ErikModi

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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #39 on: August 16, 2021, 10:57:29 PM »
This is a work of fiction.  The events within did not, probably will not, and definitely should not occur.  Any opinions expressed are those of the characters in the story, not the author.  None of the characters are real people, even the ones based on real people.  This is a fantasy for consenting adults.  If you cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality, please seek appropriate counseling.

14 -- Hunter

The large crater that forms the Zone used to be a settlement, but the Agharans abandoned it long ago, and now its only use is the venue of the Rape Run.  There are ruins sprawling through much of the crater, offering cover to both Hunter and Runner.  These ruins peter out as you approach the slope leading up to the rim, the rim itself marks the boundary of the Zone.

Underground tunnels take us to the ruins at the center of the crater, where all the Hunters start, and we usually make camp near them.  The Runners, rendered unconscious with timed nanotech sedatives, had been seeded randomly through the Zone, but nowhere near our starting position.  We'd have to go looking.

The shuttles that dropped off the Runners were long gone by the time we surfaced in the ruins, giving us no hint where any of our quarry might be.  By the time we had camp set and our gear ready to go, the timed sedative had worn off and the Runners were awake for Zanokol, in holographic projection visible across the Zone and through speakers that filled it, to go over the rules one last time.

Sunburn was not a concern, Aghara-Penthay's primary didn't produce enough UV radiation, but dehydration and heat exhaustion were.  Whenever they wanted, Runners could whisper "food" or "water," the nanocameras recording the Run would hear, and a drone would be dispatched to deliver the ration.  Eating and drinking were mandatory.  If a Runner didn't eat at least twice a day and drink at least every two hours, she was disqualified.  Disqualification meant the Runner's implant was fully activated, sending constant location and ID data, as well as making it impossible for her to refuse commands issued by the Hunters.  Disqualification meant a certainty of being caught, and the captors would be more than eager to dispense punishment for breaking the rules.

This was a necessary penalty.  With the sponsorship system, men who couldn't afford a turn with a Runner after the Run were able to send a small contribution to the rations.  Naturally, these prideful women were disinclined to consume food and water mixed with the semen of unknown men.  So the consequences for not doing so were made far more severe.

Zanokol didn't elaborate on this point for the Runners (everyone but the Terrans probably knew already), but did point out an alternative.  There are forageable food and water sources in the Zone the Runners could make use of if they liked.  My fellow Hunters had a good chuckle at that.  They'd been doing this for years, they knew where all these places were.  Patrols and traps made it almost certain a Runner would be caught if she tried to forage.

The other Runners were probably aware of this, but were my Terran counterparts?  Would Jeri Ryan be stunned in the back as she knelt to drink from a pond, or caught in a snare as she tried?  No, she was smarter than that.

I found myself strangely rooting for my fellow Terrans.  I wanted them caught, definitely, I wanted my turn with them.  But I also wanted them to make good sport, for my homeworld to make a good first impression.

I've done my part, cunts.  You do yours.

Zanokol told the Runners they were safe from Hunters at night, but Hunters weren't the only threat in the Zone, and the Runners could call for a flare if their lives were in danger, which would bring Hunters to them (this was the sole exception to the rule that Hunters weren't allowed to capture Runners at night).  The only other time the Run would pause was in the event of a sandstorm, with sirens providing plenty of warning for us all to seek shelter, another to sound the all-clear.

Finally, Zanokol mentioned the crater rim marked the boundary of the Zone, and crossing it meant disqualification.  A warning would be broadcast by the controllers if a Runner was getting too close to the edge, and if she crossed it there would be another Zone-wide announcement.  "That is all.  Cunts, I wish you all bad luck.  Run!"

"Hunt!" Dusahn shouted on the heels of Zanokol's hologram vanishing.  I heard similar cries go up from the other nearby camps, and as one we surged outward.  Some of us were on speederbikes, others on larger landspeeders, some on foot.  We had comms to keep in contact.

"Vorish, Cabolough, Meekertac," Dusahn ordered from his landspeeder.  "Patrol the watering holes and foraging spots, we might get lucky.  Lucas, your discretion, we're with you.  Everyone else, standard sweep."

I gulped.  Dusahn was following my lead?  This could be awesome. . . or horrible.

I surveyed the Zone stretched out before me, trying to superimpose the maps I'd read and figure out where we were in relation to anywhere else, then discarded that.  The other Terrans had no maps, no prior familiarity, nothing to trust but what was before their own eyes.

Looked at that way. . .

I peeled off towards a solid-looking set of ruins.  Dusahn's speeder was right behind me.

"Got something?"

"No," I admitted.  "Just, if I was looking for a place to hide, it'd look a lot like that."

It took us only a few minutes to reach the structure, a few more to confirm it was uninhabited.  We spiraled out looking for traces of a Runner, but if one had been making her way here, she'd spotted the dust plumes of our speeders and veered off.  Which is why we also have men on foot.

"A good guess," Dusahn said as my first search for a Runner came up goose egg.  "Don't expect to catch one this early.  It'll probably be a day or two at least before the first Runner falls."

"Marathon, not sprint?"

"Yep."

---

To the marvel of the others in Dusahn's posse, I was out in the Zone all day.  With food and water rations on my bike, I felt no need to return to camp, and I was the last one back as the sun dipped below the rim of the crater, signaling the end of the first day.  True to Dusahn's word, no Runner had been caught by any Faction.

After we ate dinner and spent some time chatting and joking, Cabolough proposed the entertainment for the evening, pulling out from a large locker three devices, two somewhat large and one rather small.

"The pleasure saddles," he said, indicating the larger devices, saddles with sculpted dildos rising up from them.  "And the Agony Dance outfit!  Rules are simple, if you don't know them."  That was directed mostly at me.  "Two men nominate their slaves.  The slaves ride the saddle.  Last one to come wins.  Loser wears the Agony Dancer."  That was a large, thin necklace with long dangling chains and a set of high heels.  "Same basic tech as the slave goad, with a remote.  Random sparks of pain along the chains and in the shoes, making the slave dance for us."

"What does the winner get?" I asked.

"Bragging rights for her master."

"Let's make it interesting," Dusahn offered.  "Winner's owner gets to fuck the loser tonight."

"Done!" Cabolough replied, then looked at me.  "What do you say, Lucas?  Care to bet the best tits on Terra in this?"

I debated holding this back, but if I got found out. . . "Not a fair test," I said.

"What do you mean?" Cabolough asked, clearly thinking my answer was pure boast.

"I had her implant set so she can only come in contact with a cock."

Cabolough nodded as several of the others laughed.  "Yeah, we've seen that before.  The pleasure saddle will do its job, trust me."

Seeing the pressure from the rest of the posse, I nodded.  "Alright, sure, we're in."

"Alright!" Cabolough exclaimed.  "Now, do we have a challenger to take on Lucas' big-boobed Brit?"

"Mine will," Kenazin said.  I'd gotten to know him pretty well during the trip and my preparation for the Run, and told him a lot of Terrans were pissed he'd taken Kelly Brook off the market.  His response?  "Their loss."

"Lucy, wrap off."

"Yes, Master."

As Lucy's wrap slithered off her body, Kelly's did the same.

A duel between two amazingly endowed British babes to the pain on a high-tech Agharan sybian.  Ah, this is the life.

They climbed aboard the pleasure saddles, the sculpted dildos disappearing within their folds.  "Owners, no talking during the competition.  No skewing the results.  And, so there's no cheating. . ." he placed small circlets with red lights, the size of my thumb tip, on their heads, the lights in the center of their foreheads.  "Orgasm detectors.  Light turns green, the cunt has creamed.  Three, two, one, scream, bitches!"

Cabolough activated the saddles, and both Kelly and Lucy gasped in pleasure.  They began whimpering and writhing, grinding their groins into the saddles.  Lucy already had the kind of blissed-out look it usually took some very good tit play to get from her.

Don't you fail me, bitch, I thought sourly.

Kelly wasn't looking much better. . . or looking equally amazing, depending on your perspective.  Her tits were shuddering as she drew in shaking breaths, vocalizing meaningless repeated syllables as she sped towards her peak.  She leaned forward and put her hands on the saddle, squeezing her tits with her arms, and clutched the thing like she was trying to strangle it.

The men whooped and cheered, and I found it very difficult not to try to encourage Lucy to hang on just a little bit longer.

Then came the cry, in that incredibly sexy posh British accent, "Oh, bloody fuck yes!"

The light turned green, the men cheered, and Lucy convulsed in a deliriously powerful orgasm.

Kelly was just a second behind her, though.

"Well. . . shit," I said, stepping up and offering Kenazin my hand.  "Good show."

"You too," Kenazin replied, shaking my hand.

Lucy and Kelly were helped off the saddles, and Cabolough draped the necklace of the Agony Dancer around Lucy's shoulders.  The chains dangled and brushed against her fat tits.  He held out the shoes, telling her to put them on.  Lucy looked to me.

"Do as he says," I replied curtly.  I was definitely annoyed at having to share my slave -- and missing the opportunity to fuck Kelly Brook -- but I had to admit, I was looking forward to seeing Lucy in this predicament.

As Lucy buckled the shoes on her feet, Kenazin said "If you want, I'll tell Kelly to suck your dick during the dance.  My thanks for being a good sport."

I shrugged, keeping my excitement off my face with difficulty.  "If you like."

"Kelly, suck Lucas' dick while Lucy dances."

I took my seat and Kelly crawled to me, opening my pants and smiling up to me.  "Thank you, sir," she said in her own sexy British accent.

Lucy yelped as Cabolough activated the Agony Dancer and sparks of pain hit apparently on the outside of her right breast, based on the way she jerked and flung herself in the opposite direction.  At that moment, Kelly guided my cock between her lips, tongue twirling.

Lucy staggered to the side, trying to regain her balance, only to hop back the other direction as the left shoe evidently zapped the sole of her foot.  Then she twisted farther the same direction as her tits were zapped again.  We couldn't see the nerve inducers activating, but Lucy gave voice to the pops of pain in short, sharp exclamations.

I was torn between watching Kelly bob her head on my cock and Lucy twist and hop and jerk to the flashes of pain from the Agony Dancer.

"Gah!  Please, st- Ah!  Bloody stop i- Ai!"

Between the discomfort on Lucy's face and in her dance, the pleading looks she shot me whenever she could, and Kelly's impeccable oral skills, I was very close.  Then Cabolough triggered the finale.

Somehow, he got the chains to target her nipples, with the result that Lucy wailed and flailed as she tried to escape the pain, eventually losing her balance to thrash on the ground until the chains were far enough from her breasts that Cabolough decided the show had run its course.  During that, I shot into Kelly's mouth, and she swallowed greedily, before delicately kissing my tip.  "Thank you, sir," she said again.  "Your cock is lovely."

I sent her back to Kenazin as Cabolough removed the Agony Dancer from Lucy.  Unsteadily, she stood and began to walk over to me.

I shook my head and pointed to Kenazin.  "You're his now until he's done with you."

Looking crestfallen, Lucy changed course for Kenazin, who wasted no time throwing her down on suitably sized crate and fucking her hard, squeezing her tits to make her moan in ecstasy and squeal in discomfort when he was too rough, which he was often.

Watching Lucy with Kenazin, an evil little thought grew in my brain.  By the time he was finished and sent her back to me, it had blossomed fully.

"I'm sorry, Master," Lucy said as she knelt at my side.

"You should be," I said sharply.  "I am very disappointed in you.  You lost!  To an inferior cunt!"

"I know, Master.  I'll do better."

"You will," I said threateningly, then turned to Cabolough.  "You got cuffs around?"

"Any and every size and style you could want, plus some."

I motioned at the old stone pillar I'd picked out.  "Arms behind the back around that."

"You got it."  He returned with a basic set of handcuffs, not unlike ours, except the chain connecting the cuffs was about two feet long.

Holding the cuffs by the chain in one hand, I balled my other into a fist in Lucy's hair and dragged her to her feet, then to the pillar.  I shoved her back against it, then walked around, roughly grabbing her arms and pulling them back to cuff them around the pillar.  I returned to face her.  "I am very disappointed," I said softly, then turned to face the other Hunters.  "Friends, she's yours to feel up until I let her down, but kindly keep them in your pants."

Low, evil chuckles spread through the posse.  They knew what I was about, all right.  With her extremely sensitive tits but programmed to be incapable of orgasm unless she was touching a cock, being groped by a whole gang of men would quickly see her turn into a big-boobed, quivering puddle of sexual frustration.

And a lot of the men had wanted to get their hands on Lucy for a very long time.

---

Two hours later, I returned to Lucy's pillar.  Two guys were still there, sucking her nipples like they were nursing, and I let them get bored and wander off before I approached.  The scent of Lucy's musk was thick in the cool night air of the desert, her thighs stained by the moisture she'd been releasing all this time.  Tears similarly stained her cheeks.

I took her chin gently in my fingers and raised her head to look at me.

"Oh, Master," she sighed, her voice hoarse from all the fluids she'd lost.  "I'm so sorry Master, I'll be good Master, I'll never fail you again."  She trailed off as her voice got too dry.

I anticipated this and gave her a few sips from a bottle of spice water.  "You promise you'll never fail me, never disappoint me, never make me look bad in front of my friends again?"

She nodded emphatically.  "Yes, Master, all that Master, anything Master. . . just, please, fuck me?  Or my tits?  Or let me give you a blowjob?  I need your cock, Master, I can't. . ." again she trailed off, this time unable to find the words to voice her uncontainable desire.

I walked around her and unlocked the cuffs, then let her get on her knees.  She looked up at me with all-consuming desire, and I guided my cock at her mouth.  She parted her lips in anticipation.

I swear, the moment the tip of my dick touched her lips, she came more powerfully than she ever had before.  In fact, I'm pretty sure the whole time I fucked her mouth (she was in no position to give head), she was riding a rolling wave of orgasms, never not coming, just on the downswing of one which fell to meet the upswing of the next.

Told you I can be a generous Master.

---

I've never been great at getting up before the sun, but when your alarm clock is a blowjob from Lucy Pinder, everything gets easier.

We were ready to go again at the crack of dawn, spreading out through the Zone in search of our prey.  With a day's worth of tracker pings to correlate and some signs of Runner passage if you knew what to look for, we were narrowing our focus.  We had a pretty good idea on the general area of probably the top three Most Wanted.  Most were focusing on tracking them down.

I'd be happy to catch anyone, but really wanted to find Jeri Ryan.

Tracking the pings was a bit of math and a bit of intuition.  You could factor in someone's movement speed over difficult terrain, but except for the number one Most Wanted Runner, the pings came at random times, making it difficult to gauge which pings went with which Runner, and how fast and in what direction they were moving.  This was all by design of course, to make it a sport, a challenge.

Going over some charts of the Zone and noting the pings, I had a tentative ID on Jeri.  I couldn't be certain that she hadn't crossed paths with another Runner and I'd gotten the signals swapped at some point and was now chasing the wrong one, but it was less likely this early in the Run.  The Runners started very spread out.

This was to make it difficult for both sides.  We'd have a harder time combing the entire Zone then focusing on a few likely spots, and the Runners who wanted to work together would have a harder time finding each other unless they'd arranged a place to meet, and if they had they'd probably have a long walk to it.  Alliances, in reality, also worked against the Runners much more than for them, since the pair would be sending out more pings.  We didn't advertise this, but it was easy enough to figure out.  Alliances still happened either from desperation or plans for betrayal, often a Runner scoring high on Most Wanted looking to ally with one scoring low, with the high scorer legging it at the first sign of Hunters.  Essentially using the other woman as a human shield against her first capture.

Once, I was certain I had her.  I'd seen a nearby ping, and there was a very likely looking hiding spot.  I searched top to bottom, nothing.  Some nearby tracks, but nothing I could follow in the shifting sands.  Hours later, another ping, very far away.  Either it wasn't Jeri, it was and I'd been homing in on the wrong Runner, or it was and she'd made considerable distance.

On impulse, I turned my speederbike toward the new contact.

The shadows were long and deep in the bowl of the Zone when my comm pinged.  "Lucas Trent, return to camp directly and immediately."  One of the Rape Run controllers, they'd determined based on my position if I returned now I'd arrive precisely at sunset.

Grumbling under my breath at ending another day empty handed, I steered for Dusahn's camp.

---

"How do you do it, Lucas?" Meekertac asked.  "You're the first out, last in, never come back during the day.  How do you spend all day out there?"

"He's just excited," Cabolough said, ruffling my hair.  "It's his first Run."

I ducked away from Cabolough and shrugged.  "I've worked longer shifts at harder jobs," I replied.  "This is no biggie.  At least you guys have decent go food."

Kenazin shook his head, he was another biker.  "I'm exhausted, and I grew up here.  Terra isn't that hot, especially not your part of it."

"Yeah, man, but it's a dry heat."  I grinned.  "And summer gets pretty warm.  We've got some of the biggest temperature variations on record.  I can handle it."

"It's a Terran thing," Dusahn put in.  "They're built for endurance.  They don't stop, they don't tire, they don't lose interest, they just keep coming.  They don't run down their prey, they stroll it down."  He locked gazes with the rest of his posse.  "Keep that in mind when it comes to the cunts.  They'll keep going long after the others would give up or lie down."

Nice to be appreciated for something.

---

Dusahn's words echoed in my head as I got the first Jeri-probable ping of the morning.  It was a lot further out of position than I'd expected.  Had she disregarded the non-Hunter dangers of the Zone and moved by night?  Were my guesses wrong?

I couldn't help feeling like I was closing in, even if it was a false hope.  Excitement and anticipation rose within me.  Dammit, I felt alive, like I was about to prove myself in some way I couldn't define, like I was about to fulfill a part of myself I hadn't even realized was missing until now.

Two more pings before noon.  One farther out, then one back closer to the first.  Was Jeri doubling back for some reason?  Or were there two Runners converging, intentionally or not?  My heartbeat ratcheted up a notch, I debated calling in some assistance--

My thoughts were interrupted as the Zone reverberated with the report of a cannon firing.




Author's Notes:
Another scenario suggested by a reader from a previous forum this story was posted on, including Kelly Brook as Lucy's challenger.  I agonized quite a bit over if Lucy would win or not, decided it was better for her to lose.  I didn't want to make Lucas too infallible (though granted, this is only "fallible by proxy," as it were).

carhamgrater
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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #40 on: August 17, 2021, 11:40:04 AM »
I like the idea of Lucy losing but now you have me wondering what if the came at the same time? Can't wait to read about the first capture by Lucas! Nice that Lucas seems to be having an easier time than the natives are! Merit awarded from me!

Offline ErikModi

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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #41 on: August 17, 2021, 11:50:17 AM »
Nice that Lucas seems to be having an easier time than the natives are!

That was inspired by something someone shared somewhere, about how humans are always portrayed as "distinctly average" when alien races are brought into play.  Every alien is stronger, or smarter, or faster, or tougher, or has greater psychic power, or some other advantage over humans.  Instead, the post was analyzing our actual advantages over real-world terrestrial creatures, and what if we play those up in science fiction?  Humans are built for endurance above almost everything else (tool use is our most important defining trait, but same thing among any other spacefaring alien species in sci-fi).  So yeah, I decided to lean in to humans being just better at putting in a full day's work than Agharans or others.

Offline ErikModi

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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #42 on: August 18, 2021, 10:55:39 PM »
This is a work of fiction.  The events within did not, probably will not, and definitely should not occur.  Any opinions expressed are those of the characters in the story, not the author.  None of the characters are real people, even the ones based on real people.  This is a fantasy for consenting adults.  If you cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality, please seek appropriate counseling.

Warnings:  Futa

15 -- First

Yes, the Agharans used to use gunpowder cannons once upon a time, just like us.  The sound still holds some meaning for them and they trot it out on special occasions, just like us.

Most notably, the sound of a cannon signifies the fall of a Runner.

The Zone's massive holoprojector and speakers activated, showing Zanokol's smiling face.  "Here it is, Day Three of the Rape Run, and we have our first loser!"

Zanokol's face vanished, replaced by an image of Pah-Gi running for all she was worth.  Her impressive muscles bulged under suit, her arms and legs pumped with mechanical tempo and endurance, her pace one no human or Agharan could possibly match.

Unfortunately for her, her pursuer wasn't human or Agharan.

Selyra bounded behind her, her run a flowing, primal, animal thing compared to Pah-Gi’s trained and honed pace.  "Run, cunt!" Selyra called, springing forward to eat up more of the distance between them.  "Good chase, but me catch!"  Selyra had discarded her plasteel breastplate and armored leggings for the Run, leaving her with only a leather band around her hefty bosom and the leather skirt concealing her groin.  Her clawed feet dug pits in the sand as she ran.

Pah-Gi ramped up her speed, but it seemed she had little left to give.  Her only shot was if Selyra tired first.

Selyra coiled and pounced, flying through the air and landing on Pah-Gi’s back, knocking her down.  She spun the Runner on to her back, Pah-Gi cocked back her fist for a blow. . . and stopped.

Selyra is, indeed, male enough for the implant to recognize her as such.

Selyra shoved a clawed hand against Pah-Gi’s throat, pinning her down, and tore her suit front open with her other hand.  The Agharan catches gave way, but such was the force of Selyra's muscles and passion the suit ripped in several places anyway.  Pah-Gi’s glorious bulging muscles and surprisingly large tits were revealed, her taut skin shimmering with the sweat of her attempt at flight.

Pushing Pah-Gi’s thighs apart with her knees, Selyra raised her leather skirt to reveal her massive cock, aimed, and thrust.

Pah-Gi gritted her teeth, then gave in and screamed as she was penetrated in one strong stroke by something far bigger than even a woman of her stature had been designed to accommodate.

Selyra threw her head back and howled in victory as she began to thrust in and out of the defeated super soldier.

"Ooh, that's gonna leave a mark!" Zanokol said as his image replaced Selyra's conquest of her favored prey.  "For those of you keeping score, that's the first Runner down, Selyra in the lead, and the number one Most Likely To Win suffering an early elimination.  And I do mean suffering.  For those of you checking out our highlight coverage, don't worry, we'll check in on Pah-Gi again a bit later.  That goes for the other Runners in the Zone, too, to whom I have an additional message."  His smile turned evil.  "Your odds just went up.  Make the most of it."

---

I was definitely now on the trail of a pair of Runners who were working together.  Two pings had gone off far too close together to be anything else.  But they were still eluding me, keeping out of sight and slipping through whatever search net I wove to ensnare them.

Maybe I needed to revise my thinking.  I'd been looking at it from the standpoint of where I, as a Terran, would go if I was trying to hide, gambling on my ability to think like a Terran (something none of the other Hunters could do, obviously).  But maybe they were avoiding such places on the basis that they were such good hiding spots, so they'd be the first places searched.  Maybe I needed to start looking in the last places I'd pick to go if I was being hunted.

The other Hunters were narrowing their focus further, as well.  I saw a few near my own search areas, some from Dusahn's posse, most from other Factions.  That brought the sting of nervousness and fear along with the thrill of the hunt.  Dusahn's words echoed in my thoughts.  Help me catch Jeri Ryan, here, in the Zone, or both, and I'll give her to you.  Dusahn could only exercise his right as Jeri's donator if his Faction caught her, but what if another of his Hunters did?  Would he back out of the bargain and auction her off?

No.  She must be mine.  I will have her.

Even though I was convinced I had to be getting close, I returned to camp at sunset of the third day still empty-handed.

---

The mood wasn't exactly sour in camp that night, but it had taken a perceptible shift.  Selyra's camp was far enough away we couldn't see what was happening, close enough we could sometimes hear it if we listened close.

"It won't be tonight," Cabolough said as I perked my ears up at a particularly noteworthy scream.  "Selyra will let her posse have their fun tonight, she won't invite anyone else until tomorrow.  If she invites anyone else."

"She will," Dusahn said with smug self-assurance.  "Me, at least."  His familiar evil smile again crept its way up his face.  "She'll want to hear what sounds I can make the big cunt make.  And if I'm invited, so are you."

"You're the best, boss," Kenazin said.

As the others went about finding ways to entertain themselves with their slaves, Cabolough offered me some more whip practice.  Yes, a braided length of leather that can break the sound barrier because science is hardly an invention unique to Earth.

When Dusahn had arrived to lead the fight against the Resistance and I'd begun working more closely with his men, I'd noticed many of them practicing with whips.  They'd admitted the skill had no real practical value compared to the more efficient tools they had, but it was a fun and challenging way to demonstrate skill while punishing a slave.  During some off hours, I'd been getting some coaching, often with Cabolough, and had grown fairly proficient.

I'd really begun to take it seriously of late as I'd learned whip skills were important to any number of Slaver games (yes, I'll be getting to that part, I'm sure you're all eager to hear it from my perspective).

"Try this one," Cabolough said, handing me a whip about six feet long.  Whips can come in a wide variety of lengths, beginner whips being between two and three feet, while experts used whips of more than twelve feet.  The more accurately you could strike a slave with a longer whip, the better you were acknowledged to be.

Lucy and Cabolough's slave (an Agharan he'd recently had modified in a healing tank to look like Scarlett Johansen) shed their wraps and stood in the sand where we'd commanded.

"Standard scoring," Cabolough said.

I nodded, and we began.

Both our slaves were covered in whip welts and splits by the time we were done, mostly on their prominent tits.  Cabolough beat me soundly, 110 points to 54, but I was definitely improving, both in my ability to strike my target and to pick targets I could strike, instead of missing and losing points.

We watched them rub healing paste on each other, erasing the marks of our practice game, when the holoprojector flickered to life again.  The Zone was dominated by the image of Pah-Gi Kahtah, chained on her back to a worn stone slab in Selyra's camp.  Her cunt showed signs of Selyra's abuse (more than once, I'd learn), stretched and sagging, so Selyra's men were making use of her ass and throat.  A few had been at her already, judging by the pearlescent splatters on her cheeks.

The man in her mouth stepped away, and Pah-Gi violently spat out a wad of his spunk.  She glared as another man approached.  "I'll kill you if you touch me, fucking kill you you fucking--" her rant died as the man sheathed his prick in her mouth, Pah-Gi unable to do anything to stop him.  Just like Jeri had been on Zanokol's stage not long ago.

The man in her ass finished, and Selyra herself strode up, now completely naked.  Her large breasts were enticing, her crimson skin over rippling, feral musculature lent her an air of untamable savagery.  And her cock was gloriously turgid and huge; I admired and envied its capacity for breaking cunts, literally and figuratively speaking.  "You mine, cunt."  She guided her dick into Pah-Gi’s well-worn pussy.  "You my cunt."

Pah-Gi whimpered around the dick in her mouth.

Zanokol's voice over joined the image.  "Looks like Selyra has already broken in her new toy.  My, but she moves fast, right?  Of course, with our healing paste and tanks, Selyra can tighten that cunt right back up whenever she likes.  Because every time should be like the first time."

The image faded as Selyra howled again in triumph.  Zanokol's face replaced it.

"For those cunts in the Zone, be grateful to Pah-Gi for taking a loser's slot that could have been meant for you.  Eight more down, and one of you gets to walk away.  But if you feel inspired by Pah-Gi’s fine, upstanding example, or if it's just getting too difficult and scary out there, just call for a flare!"

To my surprise, we all paused and listened.  A minute crept by, no alerts of a Runner in need of rescue.

"Oh, well," Zanokol said.  "Catch you bright and early tomorrow morning, Runners.  Goodnight and good dreams!"  The last was said with such thickly sweet sarcasm it was clear what Zanokol was hoping would occupy the Runners dreams, and it was anything but good.

"Does it happen?" I asked.  "Runners see one getting caught and just give up?"

"Sometimes," Dusahn answered.  "Every cunt thinks she's got a shot -- no, thinks she'll obviously win -- until she gets out here.  Some of them can't handle it and give in.  Some of them think they'll be able to take it until they see it, then for some reason think choosing to surrender will make it better."  He shrugged.  "You can talk yourself into anything if you try hard enough."

---

Fourth verse, same as the first! I thought as I set out again the next morning.

Look, if you just want the sex scenes, you've got the actual Run coverage for that.  You're here because you care about me as a person, you're invested in my story and thoughts and point of view.  So since we've agreed this is my story, we're agreed I can tell it my way, right?

Right.  Thank you, you're a kind, considerate, and patient audience.  Now shut up.

I was definitely closing in on something, judging by the increased presence of Hunters in the Jeri-probable area I'd been focusing on.  They (it was undoubtedly "they") had been keeping moving, not sticking to one radius where we could draw a noose around them, but their rate of movement had been relatively consistent and many of the Hunters were good educated guessers.  And we were only looking for nine Runners now, not ten.

Everything escalated as the Run went on.  While supplied with hydration and nutrition and with shelter available, physical and mental fatigue eroded the Runners' ability to evade us.  The more Runners who were eliminated, the more Hunters there were tracking each individual Runner.  Every day we got a better sense of what territorial range a given tracking ping was operating in, and could more accurately determine which blips probably belonged to which Runner.

And the longer a posse went without a capture, the more determined we became to make one.

I was certainly feeling that pressure.  I'd been rechecking my data, and was still fairly certain I was tracking the ping that corresponded to Jeri Ryan, and if that was true, Katheryn Winnick was with her.  I needed to find them first.

Though I was getting a new appreciation for the Rape Run, what it stood for.  Owning one of the Runners was a nice bonus, but getting to participate, directly like I was, indirectly as a sponsor, or even just a viewer, was showing support for your fellow men.  The Rape Run was a sledgehammer at the foundations of the ways of thinking that would see all men, everywhere, severed from the intangible qualities that made us men (and yes, for some, the tangible qualities as well).

It was a tremendous honor and great pride to be a part of it.  Men everywhere could walk a little taller for my contribution to it.  Against all that, my desire to own Jeri Ryan, even just to be invited to share her if another Faction caught her, was an insignificant thing.  I'd be able to get over it.

But I really did want to catch her, rape her, and ultimately own her.

On an impulse, I dipped my speederbike towards a half-collapsed, half-buried structure.  It was hardly a place I'd pick to hide, which is why I chose to search it.  "They'd be crazy to follow us" is a time-honored Terran thought process.

The only way in was through an opening I had to squiggle through on my stomach, getting entirely too much sand in my uniform.  I tumbled down the interior dune into a moderately spacious room, no other entrances or exits.

And indeed, two Runners had sheltered here, and recently.  There were a pair of discarded hydration canisters the drones hadn't retrieved, probably because it was no easier for them to get in than for me.  There were two discolorations on the floor where women had recently masturbated (most of the Runners had nanites to increase their arousal to the point they'd need to relieve themselves every few days).  There was a foul crevasse where they'd. . . taken care of other bodily requirements.

Jeri Ryan and Katheryn Winnick, most likely.  I was close.  Though even now someone else might be claiming them.  Ears cocked for the sound of a cannon, I searched for any sign to where they might have gone.

I didn't hear a cannon, but my comm beeped three times, then a low wail played over it.  The same wail I could now, faintly, hear from outside, muted by the stone and sand.

A siren.

Sandstorm.


Rough inspiration for Selyra

Rough inspiration for Pah-Gi

carhamgrater
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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #43 on: August 19, 2021, 01:10:31 PM »
Don't know if I like the idea of a runner just giving up- to me that spoils the spirit of the game! Would love to see that Lucas and Jeri to holdup in the same cavern until the sandstorm passes! Merit awarded from me!

Offline ErikModi

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Re: The Rape Run Modern
« Reply #44 on: August 19, 2021, 11:01:37 PM »
This is a work of fiction.  The events within did not, probably will not, and definitely should not occur.  Any opinions expressed are those of the characters in the story, not the author.  None of the characters are real people, even the ones based on real people.  This is a fantasy for consenting adults.  If you cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality, please seek appropriate counseling.

Warnings:  Humiliation, Brutal Torture, Not Researched At All Gender Dynamics

16 -- Sandstorm

I clawed my way out of the ruin to see the sandstorm was nearly here.  The sky was dark and ugly, the wind had picked up a lot, and there was already a great deal of fine dust in the air occluding visibility greatly.

I darted for my speederbike and laid in a course for camp.

INSUFFICIENT TIME BEFORE STORM the nav system reported.

"Fuck," I swore, wheeling the bike over and heading away from the storm.  I had to find somewhere else.  The shelter I'd just left was not an option.  Best case the entrance would get buried and I'd have to call for help and hope someone would be able to come and dig me out before I suffocated.  Worst case, the storm would convince the half-collapsed ruin to stop half-assing it and I'd be crushed.

There.  A nice, sturdy building, with even some intact if ancient doors.  I parked the bike and bolted for the entrance.

Well, fuck me sideways.

Inside the entrance, fighting to get the weathered door closed, was Jeri Ryan.

She saw me, and a look of panic crossed her face.  She heaved on the door, then stopped, looking back into the shelter, then out at the storm, then at me.  Aggravation flashed on her face.

She shouted something, but her words were lost to the increasingly-powerful wind.  But her arm extended towards me and curled back in a plain gesture:  Hurry!

I ran, made it into the building.  I wheeled around and threw my weight into the door.  It creaked and groaned, but shuddered closed.

Have I mentioned how much I love my healing tank muscles?

I turned to see Jeri backpedaling away from me, to stand behind and to one side of Katheryn Winnick.  Somewhere, she'd found material to fashion herself a pair of escrima sticks.

Her icy blue gaze stayed fixed on me, but her words were clearly meant for Jeri.  "Have you.  Lost.  Your goddamn.  Mind?"

"I couldn't leave him out there!" Jeri replied.  "He'd die."

"He wants to rape you, you bimbo!"

Jeri glared at Katheryn, who still had her attention focused on me, and folded her arms below her full breasts.  "I don't kill.  Not if I don't have to.  I didn't during the Resistance, and I won't now."

"Maybe that's why we lost," Katheryn retorted.  "You!" she snapped at me.  "You make a move toward that stunner and I'll break every bone in your arm."

"Sandstorm," I said, pointing at the ceiling and swirling my finger in a circle.  "The Run is suspended.  I can't catch you until it's over."

Katheryn smiled tightly.  "And when it's over, you'll let us walk."

I raised an eyebrow.  "Oh, I will?"

"Yes, you will."  She flourished her sticks.  "Or I'll spill your brains on the sand."

I knew Katheryn's story.  She'd killed during the Resistance, but very rarely, and by all accounts had never wanted to.  She was valuable for her ability to train others to defend themselves, and her martial arts skills allowing her to incapacitate and capture priority targets.

But right now, her cold blue eyes were aflame with murder.  If it were up to her, she really would kill me if I didn't let them go.  Hell, if it was up to her, I'd probably be dead already.

Good thing for me it wasn't up to her.

I held up my hands.  "Truce."

"Good," Katheryn said, apparently not noticing I hadn't actually agreed to her terms.  "Two fingers, drop the stunner on the ground and kick it over."

"No."  At the violent flash in her eyes, I hastened to add, "First, sandstorm.  I legally can't catch you right now.  I know what the penalties are if you break the rules, I'm not anxious to learn what they are if I do."  I already did, and they amounted to being told to go home, you didn't get to play any more, and the Runners got re-released to be caught properly, but no sense sharing that.  "Second, you're armed and pretty clearly intent on violence, I feel better being able to defend myself.  Third, the stunner won't fire for you or any other woman, and it's even more traceable than you are."  Keeping my hands well away from the weapon on my hip, I folded my arms.  "Still sure you want it?"

She snarled in frustration.  "Fine.  You have rations?"

"You don't?"

Jeri scoffed.  "Yeah, we're done eating and drinking anonymous splooge, thanks."

I shrugged.  "Yeah, I got rations.  Plenty."  I jerked my thumb at the door behind me.  "On my bike."

"Well, that's just fucking lovely," Jeri grumbled.

I moved to the corner near the door, ignoring the trained tensing in Katheryn's muscles as I started to move, or the way her eyes and sticks followed me.  I sat, propping myself against the wall.  "Get comfortable, ladies, we might be here awhile."

I carefully studied them while not looking at them.  Katheryn eventually relaxed out of her ready stance but remained alert, her attention focused on me.  Jeri was likewise watching me intently as she sat along the back wall, but her gaze was different.  It was curious.

"Why?" she finally asked, after Katheryn had eventually settled in to sit herself.  "Why the Agenda?  The implants?  The wraps?  Why this. . . this. . . this barbaric sport?  What did we ever do to you?"

I shrugged, turning my head to look at her now that I'd been engaged.  "You specifically?  Nothing.  You always seemed pretty cool, friendly, appreciative of your fans.  Even when we were. . . well, overly appreciative of you."  She blushed slightly.  "No individual woman was the problem, no individual man was the problem.  It was the collective and extremism pushing each other deeper and deeper into antagonism."

"We could have talked.  Worked it out.  We could have found a way."

"Really?" I asked.  "How many men have you known who are only capable of having a conversation with your cleavage?  Are they going to 'talk it out' with you?  How many women do you know talk about how much better off humanity would be without that 'short chromosome' mucking things up?  Ask yourself, really:  roles reversed.  The Gaianesians found Earth instead of the Agharans, and offered you this one, small, simple if painful way to put an end to all that tension, all that hate, all that violence, all that sexism.  And you wouldn't embrace it?"

"Fucking right I would," Katheryn muttered.

I waved my hand in her direction in a "ya see?" gesture.

Jeri shook her head.  "This isn't ending sexism, it's. . . it's industrializing it.  How is this a solution?  How is this better than respect and equality?"

"Respect and equality don't exist.  Not across gender lines."

"The Republic."

I scoffed.  "You think the Republic has respect and equality?  Did you talk to Brenna?  Did you hear her thoughts on the matter?"

"They sound pretty good to me," Katheryn said.

Jeri sighed.  "From where I've been sitting the last few weeks. . . can't say she doesn't have a point."

"Precisely my point.  Her point?  Let the Gaianesians keep making mindless slaves of their men.  Let the Syreen keep kidnapping and gang-raping men.  But those evil men that do those exact same things to women, no, they gotta be wiped out.  That's not equality, because women like her don't want equality, they want to hurt men because it's the only way they can feel powerful.  And her voice isn't unique.  It's growing in the Republic, and it was growing on Earth.  So, yeah, if it's a choice between being the slaver or the slave, I choose the slaver.  And both of you would do the same, because you did, the minute you started your Resistance."

"You forced us into that!" Jeri said, pointing angrily at me.

"And if it had been the other way?  You and your Gaianesian allies getting ready to pacify me as the last member of the Male Resistance?  Would you say 'Oh, it's okay, we understand we forced you to this, our bad, no hard feelings?'  Or would you think I deserve this for fighting you, for trying to bring about the very horror you were trying to stop?"

Neither dared to speak.  Both knew the answer.

"There should have been a better way," Jeri said quietly.

"Yeah, but the universe isn't required to make sense to us."

For quite some time, the only sound was the rushing of wind and hiss of sand against the stone walls of our shelter.  Finally, Jeri looked at me again.  "So, you're a fan?"

"I nodded.  Very much.  Of you both, actually."

Katheryn sneered sarcastically.  "You'll forgive me if I don't offer you an autograph."

I shrugged.  "Under the circumstances, I'd say that's fair."

Jeri shook her head.  "But, you're a fan.  You like us.  How can you want. . . this?"

"How many ways do you want me to answer the same question?  Is enslaving more than half the species a dick move?  Yes.  But if my options are be a dick, get dicked, or die, I'll gladly be a dick."

"And being a dick, you want the best pussy," Katheryn shot back.

I shrugged.  "Your words.  But if you want to look at it that way. . . yeah."

Jeri shook her head.  "No.  This can't just be about getting laid.  No one's that hard up."

Katheryn scoffed again, this time at Jeri.  "Really?  For a smart chick, you're really stupid.  You know men only have enough blood to run one head at a time."

I glared at her.  "And it's called PMS because Mad Cow Disease was already taken."

Her jaw dropped as she glared at me in shock.

"You want this conversation to move in this direction?" I asked coldly.  "Or do you want to lay off the sexist insults?"

She sputtered.  "Me sexist?"

I nodded.  "You started it."

She shook her head.  "What I said isn't sexist.  It's just--"

"Just a joke?  A joke that women like to make about men, because it's funny to think we're so stupid we can't function with a hard-on?  Like how vroom-screech-vroom-screech-vroom-screech is the sound of a blonde driving through a blinking red light?"

"Fuck you!" Katheryn shouted.

Jeri sighed deeply.  "We really were doomed, weren't we?"

"Looks that way," I agreed.

---

It took all three of us to wrench the door back open after the all-clear sounded, with all the sand and dust that had blown into and against it.  We blinked as our eyes adjusted to the bright light and struggled to climb the new, soft dunes in front of our shelter.  I could just barely make out the handlebars of my speederbike under one of them.

"We'd better move," Jeri said to Katheryn.

"Yeah," Katheryn said, watching me warily.

"Yeah," I said.  "About that."  I turned, drew, fired, and Jeri slumped to the sand.

In a blur, Katheryn had her sticks up and aimed, cocked to strike.  I took a step closer, placing myself at the perfect range for her blows.  "Well?" I said.  "What are you waiting for?"

She wanted to, I could see that clearly in her eyes.  She wanted to spill my brains on the sand just like she said she would, for my betrayal, in defense of herself and Jeri, for being in the Rape Run to begin with, for everything that had turned Earth into Terra, for me having a penis.  But I could also see how much she didn't want to kill me.  She'd fought to protect people before, but this was different.  This was actively choosing to take a life, and she didn't want to make that choice.  She didn't want to be capable of making that choice.

Then I saw the moment the realization clicked.  Those thoughts, the ones preventing her from swinging her weapon, they weren't hers.

They were the implant.

She tried to fight it, tried to swing anyway, but the more she steeled her resolve the more it fled her.  Finally she realized it was impossible, and all she could do was throw her sticks down in the sand and scream.

"Fuck you!" she yelled when she was again capable of syllables.  "Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck--"

I cut her rant short with another stunner shot.

"Lucas to base?" I said into my comm.  "Can I get a landspeeder to come to me?  I need some help digging out my speederbike and taking two Runners back."

Dusahn's voice immediately responded.  "Dusahn to Lucas, say a-fucking-gain?"

---

The hero's welcome I got when I returned to the camp, trailing the landspeeder holding the unconscious Jeri and Katheryn, felt really fucking good.  I'd caught two Runners at once on my own, something that hadn't happened in decades (granted, because most Runners knew better than to stick together too much).  And while I hadn't been the only one of our twenty-strong posse not to return to camp for the sandstorm, I had been the only one who hadn't reported in when I'd found safe shelter.  It was tempting to blame that on circumstances, not wanting to make the Runners any jumpier than they already were, but honestly, I'd just forgotten.

I was cheered, saluted, offered more drinks than I could stomach, my name was chanted.  Yeah, it felt good.  I was king of the fucking world.

The speeder pulled to a stop before two sets of rigid poles, much like the ones Anna had been tied to back when I'd first met Dusahn.  "Cabolough, help Lucas with Jeri.  Loscul, with me.  Venzavan, Pikohtah, restraints."  Dusahn and Loscul maneuvered Katheryn's limp form to one set of poles, while Cabolough and I manhandled Jeri to the other.  As we held them in place, Pikohtah clapped cuffs on Jeri's wrists and ankles, binding her to the poles.  Venzavan did the same for Katheryn.

Once the women were secured, everyone stepped back to admire them for a few moments (and so we could let the stunner start to wear off).  Dusahn clapped me on the shoulder, then pulled me into a sideways hug.  "Lucas, my boy, well done!  Knew I made the right call on you!  Thank you for joining me."

"Thank you for inviting me."  I almost asked if he remembered our deal, but decided now was not the time.  We were having a moment.

As the women began to stir, Dusahn leaned close to me and spoke quietly.  "Alright, we're going to walk up to them together, you to Jeri, me to Kat.  Give it a silent count of five, then grab their suits and tear the fronts off.  Drop the cloth on the ground, turn, and walk away.  It's going to look badass."

I nodded, he clapped me on the shoulder, and when he moved a few seconds later, I was in step with him.  We stopped in front of the Runners, who were just starting to take in their surroundings and the horror of their capture, before grabbing and tearing off the fronts of their suits, exposing their tits and cunts to the galaxy.  Throwing down the useless garment fragments, we walked away.

"Now what?" I asked as we gathered with the rest of the hunting party.

"Wait for it," Dusahn said.

Five minutes later, a cannon report boomed through the Zone, another on it's heels.  Zanokol's holoimage appeared again.

"Well, I think this just might be this Run's Play Of The Year!  From rookie Hunter Lucas Trent of Terra, I call this one 'Two Cunts, One Storm!'"

Zanokol's image vanished to show me running for the shelter, Jeri conflicted but waving me in.  It showed a bit of the standoff (such as it was) with Katheryn, before fast-forwarding through our conversation (which got a lot of airplay over the following years) and our eventual emergence from the shelter.  Then it slowed back down to show me stunning Jeri, daring Katheryn to strike me, and finally her breakdown before I stunned her as well.

The clip ended with the synchronized stripping Dusahn and I had just performed, lingering on the Runners' exposed bodies as it faded out.

"Wow," Zanokol said as his image returned to dominate the sky.  "Just wow.  Mind blown.  Lucas, when the Run is over, come on back here, I have to talk to you about this.  This was just amazing!  I'm sure we'll have some premium holos from Dusahn's camp for you fine folks at home tonight!  In the meantime, that's day four, three Runners down, six to go, Dusahn pulling into the lead with a stunning double capture.  And cunts, I'd watch out for our Terran Terror!"

"Alright," Dusahn said.  "We're up, but don't get soft.  Plenty more cunts out there to even the score.  Don't let it happen.  Especially you," he added, turning to me.  "You got your favorite, doesn't mean you can slack off and not help me win this thing."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I replied honestly.

"Good man."  He addressed the rest of the hunting party again.  "Now get back out there, plenty of daylight left!"

---

No one else made any captures before the sun set, which wasn't really surprising.  A few were confident they were closing in on a target, so at least one would probably get caught tomorrow.

I returned to camp a bit before sunset, because I didn't want to miss a moment of the upcoming festivities.

Dusahn, of course, would take the lead, and he seemed content to let our captives strain in their bonds with their tits exposed.  But I could tell the rest of the camp was getting antsy.

I was near exploding with anticipation.

Finally, Dusahn indicated he was ready to start by drawing a few of us into a private conversation.  Everyone else would know to follow his lead, but he required a little extra from, well, me.

"Alright, we're going to start with Jeri.  Lucas, remember Anna and the slave goad?"  I nodded, that wasn't an experience I was going to forget any time soon.  "Same basic deal."  He nodded and turned towards our captives, the rest of the camp following in a loose mob.

Jeri saw Dusahn approach, and put as much cold, calm, Seven of Nine steel in her gaze and expression as she could.  She saw him pick up the slave goad, and that steel cracked, just a bit.

Oh, yes, the Resistance knew the goad.  Some had suffered it, and they'd stolen a few, some of which they'd used to get information from their prisoners.  How's that for moral high ground?

Dusahn walked around her, grabbed the rear of her suit, and yanked it off as well.  Jeri jerked slightly with the force, winced almost imperceptibly at losing some more modesty, but retained her disaffected air.

Dusahn reached around to squeeze one of her tits, and Jeri fought against the reaction.  While she was being de-aged, Jeri's breasts had gotten the same sensitivity treatment I'd had done on Lucy.  Jeri couldn't stop the flush creeping along her skin, the hardening of her nipples, the change in her breathing, or the growing glisten on her nethers, but she could keep pleasured moans from escaping her lips.  Mostly.

Her composure shattered when Dusahn ran the goad up her spine.

She thrashed and screamed in her chains, trying to escape the pain.  Then it stopped, and she hung limply, head down, panting for air.  But her respite was brief, as Dusahn ran the goad down her side from armpit to hip.  Then he pushed the tip against the back of each of her knees.

"Stop!" she shouted as he walked back around her.

"You want me to stop?" Dusahn asked, holding up the goad.  Jeri nodded.  "I suppose I could stop.  If there's something else you'd rather be doing.  Someone else."  Jeri clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing as she got the message.  "So, sure, I'll stop. . . if you'd really rather have my friend here rape you."  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to point at me.

Wait, what?

"Just tell him, like a good little cunt, what you want him to do, and he'll be more than happy to.  Okay?"

Jeri looked at me, her eyes filled with pleading helplessness.  Begging me to help her, to make it stop.

God, but that look made my dick hard.  Even remembering it now, her looking at me with such raw, anguished need makes me. . . excuse me a moment.

Ah, much better.

In response to her look, I gave her a measured, patient gaze and folded my arms over my chest.  I was telling her You know what you need to say, and I don't move until you say it.

Upon realizing I was not going to come to her rescue (for a given value of "rescue"), Jeri's expression pinched painfully, her head dropped, and a great, wracking sob shook her body.

As much as she wanted to evade the agony of the slave goad, her pride wasn't yet so tattered it would allow her to beg to be raped.

"Alright then!" Dusahn said cheerfully, poking her in the belly with the goad and making her scream.  "Still my turn!"

"Leave her alone, you asshole!" Katheryn shouted, but no one paid her any attention.  Not yet.

Dusahn worked the goad mercilessly across Jeri Ryan's body, drawing patterns on her skin with the tip, withdrawing to let her recover, then putting her back into pure agony.  He circled her again, and when he reached her front once more, wordlessly held up a hand.  Cabolough tossed him a second goad, Dusahn caught it without looking (admit it, you were impressed by that casual display of badassery), and then plunged both goads into her soft tits.

Jeri threw back her head and wailed, her screams absolutely unearthly.

Nearly half a minute later, when Dusahn finally withdrew the goads, Jeri went completely limp.  I thought for a second she might have passed out despite the goads' safety, but I could see her straining to raise her head, her eyes seeking and finding mine.  Her full, round lips forming words.

She swallowed and gasped, and spoke a little louder.

"Please, Mr. Trent. . . please. . . fuck me."

Dusahn shook his head.  "That's the wrong word.  Need a reminder?"  He raised the goads.

"Rape me!" Jeri shouted.  "Rape me, Lucas, please rape me!"

Dusahn shrugged, turning to me.  "If you think she wants it bad enough. . ."

I stepped forward, my hands on the catches for my trousers but not opening them yet.  This counted in my book, if Dusahn was really offering me first go.  He smiled at me, nodded, and stepped aside.  I opened my pants, taking out my rock-hard cock, and stepped up to Jeri.

Her tearful blue eyes locked on mine.  All thought of resistance was gone, but she still didn't want this.  With her eyes, she begged me not to, to somehow still keep her from the goad, or at least to be gentle.

Gripping her hips firmly, I aimed and penetrated her full in one stroke.

She gagged in discomfort and more tears fell from her beautiful eyes.

Author's Notes:
carham, have a cookie.