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 -- InterviewIt 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.