Vice woke to find the naked bodies of Telea and Amy pressed up against him. Both girls were still asleep. Telea’s embrace felt warm and affectionate – but Amy’s felt more desperate. The girl was shaking in her sleep, clearly in the grip of a nightmare, clinging to Vice for safety.
He was very pleased with how both these girls were coming along. Amy was obviously traumatised from her rape, and from the business with the Rapehounds, and she was responding to it in the best way possible – by becoming pathetically submissive and eager to please her rapist. He hoped that in her mind she was rationalising her behaviour as genuine gratitude and love for her abuser – it would certainly make the coming weeks easier.
Meanwhile, Telea was simply a natural submissive. It had taken very little for her to discard her feminist lesbian upbringing and become the most enthusiastic worshipper of Vice’s cock on the whole planet. Vice was surprised to find a seed of genuine affection within him as he looked down at her sleeping face. He *wanted* to protect this confused, pathetic little slut, and see her looking up at him with adoration every morning.
For now, he simply grabbed a fistful of her hair, and began dragging her head down his body, towards his cock. She woke up almost immediately, but quickly saw what was happening, and opened her mouth obediently. Soon he was enjoying a warm, slow blowjob from his blonde navigator.
As Telea serviced his cock, he turned his head towards his other prize – the redheaded teen popstar who had been unfortunate enough to be a passenger on Vice’s ship. He gently stroked Amy’s soft, silky hair as he fucked Telea’s mouth, and when Amy slowly began to wake up, he brought her face in close and kissed her.
Amy’s body shook involuntarily as their lips met. Maybe she was remembering her rape, or maybe her nightmares, but either way her whole body spasmed with sudden fear. He saw tears form in Amy’s eyes – and then, suddenly, Amy was kissing him back, passionately, furiously, grinding her tits against his chest. Loving Vice made her safe. Loving Vice meant that she hadn’t been raped – she’d just had a romantic encounter. Loving Vice meant that he would fight for her, and help her escape this horrifying planet. So she had decided, without even really thinking about it, that she must love Vice.
He kissed her, and let her grind against him, until finally he felt himself cumming in Telea’s mouth. This time, Telea returned the favour that Amy had given her from last night. She kept the cum in her mouth, moved up Vice’s body, and kissed Amy on the lips, pushing Vice’s sperm into Amy’s mouth so the two girls could share it as they kissed.
“Good girls,” said Vice, stroking their hair. “Very good girls.”
And he noted how they both wiggled with delight and pride at his praise.
He could have remained there for hours, enjoying the naked women, but he was eventually brought to full awakeness by what was unmistakably the distant sound of gunfire. Within seconds, Vice was on his feet, and racing for the camp barricades.
Laurel was already there, leaning on a metal crutch, staring out towards the forest. “So the Great Male God deigns to awaken,” she said, sarcastically.
“That sounds suspiciously like sass,” warned Vice. “You know I enjoy slapping you, so don’t tempt me. Have you seen anything?”
Laurel shook her head – a motion which made her large, fake tits jiggle appealingly. “Just gunfire.”
Then they both heard a sound that they recognised – the whimper of a Rapehound in pain. It was distant – but unmistakeable.
Vice relaxed. “It’s the Galliard,” he said. “We’ve learned our lesson – so they’re clearing out the Rapehounds, as they said they’d do.”
“No more night-time attacks?” asked Laurel. She was putting on a cynical, hard-bitten air – but he could tell that she was relieved at the idea. They had all seen what had happened to Veronica. None of them wanted it to happen to them.
“We’ll be safe now,” confirmed Vice.
Amy and Telea had emerged from the shelter by now, and were heading in Vice’s direction. But one girl was missing. “Veronica,” he yelled. “Come here, girl.” And he shocked her collar, wherever she was, to give her some incentive.
She emerged quickly enough from the far side of the shelter – but rather than walking, she was crawling on all fours, her large tits hanging down beneath her.
This was no surprise to Vice.
“Listen up,” said Vice. “This bitch betrayed us last night. When we were all working together to get the entire crew through the night safely, she turned on us, risking all of our safety for her petty, bitchy tantrum.”
“Cow,” spat Telea.
“I have made some modifications to the rules her collar enforces,” said Vice, “to punish her, and remind her of her shame. They’ll be in force until I decide otherwise – maybe a day, maybe a few days, maybe a week.”
Veronica looked up at him in alarm. She had clearly already discovered – by trial and error – what the rules were, but had obviously hoped this might be a short-term humiliation.
“The collar will shock her if she attempts to speak,” said Vice. “And it will shock her if she raises her head above my waist level. She will crawl like a bitch until we’re sure she’s learned her lesson.”
Amy giggled at this – a cute, innocent sound, at odds with the situation that had prompted her amusement. She had never liked Veronica anyway.
“I want each of you to take a turn kicking her in the tits or the cunt,” he said. He looked at Laurel, still leaning on her crutch. “Laurel, you can slap her.”
He didn’t need to encourage the girls. Telea was already moving in, kicking at Veronica’s tits as if they were footballs. Veronica tried to defend herself at first, so Telea kept kicking until Veronica lowered her arms and gave her a clear shot.
As soon as Telea got a good kick in at her breasts, Veronica squealed, clutched her tits, and rolled backwards away from Telea – which was Amy’s queue to step in and kick her hard between her spread legs, right in her cunt. “Traitorous skank,” Amy spat.
Laurel didn’t slap Veronica – but she did reach down and grab one of the girl’s nipples, and yank on it fiercely. “You were stupid,” she said. “Pick your shot better, next time.”
Vice’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that – but he was confident it was only a matter of time till he worked this resistance out of Laurel.
“In the mean time,” he said, to all the girls, “if any of you feel like you need to please your pussies, I give you full permission to rape Veronica.”
Veronica’s eyes widened – and the other girls blushed, as each immediately mentally told herself that of course she would *never* rape another girl – and then began picturing how good it might feel to use Veronica as a sex-toy…
The girls drank their morning lake water, and each then received a ration bar. Vice was worried about how long he could keep providing ration bars. He would need to prioritise finding alternate food sources soon.
“Now, all of you girls who are walking upright have been good girls,” he told them when they were done. “So I’m giving you a day of rest. You can do whatever you want with your day, providing that you don’t leave sight of the camp.”
The girls were delighted with this pronouncement – and surprised him with their choice of activities.
Telea used the fabricator to make paints, and spent the day painting a mural on the side of the shelter. To Vice’s amusement, it depicted the recent attack of the Rapehounds. On the left stood Vice, atop the battlements, armed with a gun, with Telea and Amy pressed nude up against his sides, and Laurel kneeling with her head near his groin. He looked every inch the protector of his harem.
And on the right was a large, graphic depiction of Veronica being fucked by the Rapehounds. The beasts looked properly monstrous – but the real star of the artwork was the expression on Veronica’s face. It was obvious to any viewer that Veronica was delighted by her rape. Her eyes were crossed, her tongue was hanging from her mouth, and she was visibly bucking back against the cocks of the alien beast, trying to force it deeper into her womb and anus.
When Veronica saw the artwork, she started to cry – deep, traumatised sobs, as she curled up into a ball on the ground.
Telea and Amy just laughed.
Amy spent her day using the replicator to make clothes. Vice had warned her that he wasn’t letting the girls get dressed, no matter what Amy made, but Amy asked if she could try and make clothes that would please the Galliard, and he saw no harm in letting her try.
Her first creations were functional – wide-brimmed floppy sun-hats that would help keep the girls’ delicate skin from burning during the hot days. Vice saw no harm in these, and authorised the girls to wear them.
She then spent some time playing with designs. She proposed several designs for revealing skirts and tops that Vice admitted *were* sexy – but ultimately not more demeaning than being nude, and thus unsuitable.
Finally, she fabricated something, and came out to show Vice. It was little more than a long strip of red ribbon, that she had tied around each of her tits, constricting them slightly at the base and making them bulge. The ribbon came together at the top of her cleavage in a large, ostentatious bow, that had the effect of making her breasts look like a present for Vice to unwrap.
Vice liked it. It emphasised her tits, and made her look ridiculous and infantile. It was perfect.
“Well done,” he told her. “Make one for each of the other girls. Maybe a different colour for each?”
Vice himself spent the day preparing a backpack, and fabricating additional tools and supplies to put in it. He would need it tomorrow.
And as for Laurel – she spent the day raping Veronica.
She tried to hide it, of course. She took Veronica outside the camp to a place where the exterior walls would protect her from Vice’s view. But she had forgotten that their robot, Rospar, could see through some walls using his thermal vision, and Rospar reported everything to Vice.
Laurel had been without sexual release for days now, in an environment of heightened stress and sexuality, with the lake water constantly pumping up her arousal and making her long for the taste of a man’s cum.
Veronica couldn’t help with the cum – but she could assist with the other problems.
Laurel dragged the girl by her hair to her isolated spot on the beach, and then pressed Veronica’s surprised face against her pussy.
“Lick,” she whispered – and then she raped Veronica for nearly four hours.
She achieved orgasm after orgasm, but each one just drove her madder with lust. When Veronica’s jaw and tongue got tired, Laurel slapped her tits or pinched her clitoris to encourage her to keep servicing her cunt, and when even that couldn’t provoke further performance, she simply humped Veronica’s face, pushing Veronica’s nose into her fuckhole, rubbing her slimy pussy across Veronica’s eyes and mouth and chin, to find another orgasm, and another.
It was only some time after lunch that Laurel was able to finally control herself, and look at the crying woman she had just raped. She felt her last sympathy for the rich cow evaporate – because if she held sympathy for Veronica, she would have to feel guilty about raping her, and Laurel had no room for guilt if she intended to survive this world. She just left Veronica crying on the beach, and went back into the shelter.
That night, they held a sermon from the Book of Galliard. Amy read the passage for them, as the women – each wearing their colourful new tit-bow – all stared at Vice’s exposed cock.
“A female does not think with her brain,” Amy read. “She thinks with her cunt…”
The girls nodded as Amy read through the demeaning words.
“I am a parasite that feeds on sperm,” they each chorused at the relevant part.
And then the girls chose someone for Vice to rape – and there was no surprise that tonight it was Veronica.
Veronica didn’t even struggle. She just lay on her back and spread her legs, and Vice mounted her in the missionary position. It was the first time his cock had been in her cunt, and he was delighted to find it both tight and wet.
He gave the other girls permission to masturbate as they watched Veronica being raped. By now, the girls were beginning to strongly associate watching a girl being violated with sexual arousal, and they eagerly began pleasuring themselves as Vice raped the bitchy heiress.
As he fucked her, he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “There are two ways forward for you, Veronica,” he told her. “You can keep being a cow, and every day I’ll find a way to make life worse for you, until you want to die – except that the collar won’t let you kill yourself.” He pushed his cock into her harder. “Or,” he continued, “you can understand that this is your life now, and accept it, and start making me think that you love me, and I’ll do what I can to make this planet pleasant for you. You saw Telea and Amy today – they were actually happy. You could be too.”
He pinched one of her nipples, just for fun, just to get a reaction. She gasped, and moaned.
‘If you’d like to be happy, Veronica,” he said. “All you have to do is kiss me on the lips, and tell me you love me. It’s your choice. If you don’t want to – well, I have some great ideas for how to make tomorrow even more horrible than today.”
Veronica lay there, showing no sign she had heard him, as he continued to fuck her. Vice was annoyed. He wished she’d react more – whether in affection, or in pain and anger. Her unresponsive state made him feel like he was raping a mannequin.
Then, just as he was nearing his orgasm, he saw a tear form in her eye – and then she turned her head toward him, reached up, and kissed him on the lips. “I love you,” she said, in a small, quavering voice. “I’d like to be happy… sir.”
He rewarded her by cumming inside her.