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Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven
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Three days. Three days until rescue. Three days until doom.
The energy in the camp was a mixture of fear and hope as Vice directed his sex-slave crew in preparing for a Galliard attack. He had Rospar fabricate new weapons – lethal ones, this time, with a charge capable (he hoped) of killing a Galliard outright. He had not previously trusted his bitches with such dangerous tools, but he felt now that the girls were sufficiently loyal to him. Certainly Telea loved him without limit or question, and Cunt’s brainwashing left her unable to even contemplate defying him. Amy and Victoria appeared to have more than learned their lessons, and had come to both trust his command and worship his cock.
He drilled the girls in firing the new weapons, having them shoot again and again at pieces of debris on the beach. Girls who missed their targets received a sharp shock from their Compliance Collar. The best performing girl over each training session was permitted to suck Vice’s cock and swallow his cum. This turned out to be a remarkably effective training paradigm, and all four girls improved their aim dramatically, although it was surprisingly Cunt who turned out to be the best shot and the most reliable winner of Vice’s sperm. Vice wondered if her newly empty head allowed her to concentrate better on the tasks she was given.
Between sessions of firearm training, Vice sent the girls to the forest edge to bring wood to fortify the camp’s defences. He let them take the new blasters, both for defence, and for use in cutting branches from trees.
Amy wrote a cute working song for the girls, that they sang as they went about their duties. She seemed to make up new verses on a regular basis, but the chorus was the same:
I’m just a cunt
I love my man
I serve his cock
As best I can
I have no brain
I feed on cum
I hope my tits
Are lots of fun
It was catchy, Vice had to admit. He liked the idea of Amy releasing it as a galactic hit when they escaped Persephone Nine. Maybe his other bitches could be her backup dancers.
Although Vice had stopped requiring the girls to receive sermons from the Book of Galliard at night, he noticed that Victoria had taken to reading from the book at every rest break. She seemed to devour its contents.
She had said the other night that she had accepted that she had no worth other than her tits and her cunt, and that Vice was her God. Vice had taken that to be an exaggeration – something said in the heat of the moment while Victoria was feeling insecure and afraid. But had she really meant it literally? In any case, diving deeper into Galliard philosophy wouldn’t hurt her – it would surely only make her a more obedient and attentive cockholster.
At the end of the first of the three days, they curled up in the camp. Amy was bound to the Galliard exercise bike, her mouth gagged, as she generated energy to keep the blasters charged. Victoria was plugged into the machine that promoted her lactation, also gagged, and screaming into that gag as the machine sent pulses of agonising pain through her tits and cunt.
There was no particular reason to continue Victoria’s training on the lactation promoter, considering they were to be rescued, but Vice had decided to test Victoria’s newfound loyalty. He had given her a choice. She did not *have* to be plugged into the machine, and there would be no consequences for choosing not to. But her agony and humiliation would provide Vice a small amount of sexual entertainment, and it would help make her tits marginally less worthless.
Victoria had started to cry, but had insisted that Vice fit her into the machine, so he had done so, and now he was watching her pain as Cunt sucked on his cock, and Telea kissed him and rubbed her tits against his face. He would leave Victoria on it all night, and rape her when he released her in the morning. And he suspected that she would thank him for all of it, with genuine gratitude.
As he was approaching a very pleasant orgasm into Cunt’s mouth, a sound rang out across the beach, and Vice and the two unrestrained girls all froze. They all recognised it.
It was the howl of a Rapehound.
Victoria moaned with fear into her gag.
Vice tensed, ready to push Cunt and Telea away and release the other girls so they could prepare a defence against the giant wolf-like alien monsters.
But then there was another howl, and Vice relaxed.
“Your boyfriends are far away, Victoria,” he chuckled. “And it doesn’t sound like they’re coming closer. They’re not making a booty call tonight.”
He lightly slapped Cunt’s cheek. “No one told you to stop sucking,” he said.
Cunt resumed servicing him, and soon Vice was cumming into her mouth. When he was done, he grabbed her hair and pulled her upwards, so that she could share her mouthful of semen with Telea in a beautiful slutty kiss. The sight of blonde, petite Telea – a girl who had been raised as a lesbian – so eagerly taking his sperm from another girl’s mouth, made Vice deeply happy inside.
Persephone Nine had been difficult, it was true – but it was more than worth it to have ended up the owner of these four gorgeous, domesticated, obedient sluts.
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The next morning he brought Victoria down from the Galliard machine, and immediately fucked her, as he had planned. He was delighted to find that her tits looked and felt a little bigger, and small trickles of milk squirted from her nipples when he squeezed them. Her cunt sensitivity was increasing, as the Galliard had promised, and with each plunge of his cock into her fucktunnel, she quivered as if she was receiving an electric shock in her pussy.
But she moaned as he fucked her. She was a little delirious from her night of torture, and her words weren’t initially coherent.
“Master,” she said. “You shouldn’t… master…”
“Shouldn’t what?” asked Vice. “You’re not trying to tell me I can’t fuck you, are you, Victoria? I thought you had learned your consent wasn’t important.”
“No,” she moaned. “Shouldn’t cum… time…”
He tried to understand what she was telling him. Time? Shouldn’t cum? What did she…
And then he realised.
“Your time?” he said to Victoria. “Do you mean… your time of the month?”
“Fertile…” gasped Victoria.
Vice paused. The idea of putting a baby into Victoria, particularly if she didn’t want him to, was immediately erotic. He pictured the formerly stuck-up rich bitch with a swollen belly, kneeling passively at his feet, nude, reduced to a breeding cow. He liked the idea.
But Vice didn’t honestly know what life would look like after they were rescued. He didn’t know what questions would be asked. He might need to deny that he had fucked the girls, and have them deny it too. And there was the question of whether he was ready to be a father.
He sighed.
“Fuck,” he swore. He pulled out of Victoria’s cunt, grabbed her hair, pulled her mouth to his dick, and ejaculated into her mouth.
“Thank you, master,” she mumbled after she had swallowed his cum.
“Get up and get to work,” he told her. “We need more wood from the forest.”
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But when noon came, Victoria hadn’t returned from her task. The other girls were back, but there was no sign of the dark-haired heiress.
Vice swore. Had he pushed her too hard? Tortured and raped her too much? Had she decided to flee after all? Or had she encountered danger in the forest? Had she been attacked?
He questioned the other girls.
“She went on her own, further down the beach,” said Amy. “She said there was better wood down that way. I should have gone with her – I’m so sorry, Master.”
“She was talking weird all morning,” added Telea. “She kept saying that the answers were in the Book of Galliard. She said we were all going to be fine, that submission would save us.”
This last piece of information was alarming to Vice. What idea had Victoria taken into her pretty, bitchy little head?
The Book of Galliard was still where it was normally kept, under shelter, so Vice took it up and thumbed through it.
“The worth of a woman is defined by how well she serves her five biological purposes: receive cum, breed, produce milk, perform labour, and entertain man.”
No. He flipped further.
“The nature of woman is as filth, and it is only through degradation that a woman finds her true self.”
Further.
“A woman is lower than all things that have a cock.”
Further still.
And then he found it – a well-thumbed section towards the back of the book that dealt with the early history of the Galliard colony.
“The first bitches to hear the Galliard call truly believed in the Galliard mission and the supremacy of man, and they were filled with joy to journey to Persephone Nine and live in a world where they would be forced to submit to cock and treated as the animals they were. But they acknowledged that man deserved a wide range of bitches to ejaculate into, and to that end a price was set to allow these women to make the journey to the colony. To buy their way onto the Galliard ship, each bitch would have to capture three unwilling cunts, and bring them caged so that they could be re-educated in their true purpose, away from the feminist curse.”
This was interesting. Judging by the sandy thumbprints on these pages, Victoria appeared to have read this section numerous times.
Vice read on.
“The faithful bitches dutifully abducted their sisters, daughters, mothers, and friends and packed them naked into cages for transport like the animals they were. However, upon arrival at Persephone Nine, the caged bitches were difficult. They did not understand the necessity of male rule. Some escaped, and they fled the Galliard camp.”
“But Persephone Nine taught the bitches their place. They were set upon by the great beasts, the Rapehounds, and they learned their role as the servant of all things with cocks, as the hounds raped them mercilessly, day and night, until the Galliard game to rescue them. They were grateful to the Galliard for freeing their weak, useless female bodies from the monsters, and most worshipped the Galliard cocks as thanks, and those who did not do so received further correction.”
Vice wondered if “correction” meant the machine that had brainwashed Cunt – or if it was instead some earlier method of controlling females.
He continued reading.
“Thereafter, the Galliard would from time to time send a difficult bitch to the Rapehounds, to help her learn her place. This was useful in improving obedience and morale, for the bitch would always be grateful to be returned to the colony after being used by the wolves, and the other bitches would behave better out of fear of receiving similar treatment.”
Vice could understand this. Victoria’s time with the Rapehounds had certainly improved her attitude, and put a genuine fear into the other girls.
“However, in time the Galliard abandoned this practice, for they discovered a substantial flaw. The Rapehounds, they learned, being exclusively male, did not reproduce within their own species, but by impregnating other mammals. With time, their sperm adapted to be able to impregnate those of human descent. When they raped a Galliard bitch, they would often impregnate her with a litter of their puppies – an undesirable outcome.”
“But what was even more undesirable is that they would fight to the death to defend these impregnated bitches. It became too dangerous to retrieve these pregnant cunts from the Rapehounds. The pheromones given off by a pregnant cunt seemed to drive them to extremes of loyal aggression. And so the Galliard regretfully stopped sending bitches for Rapehound discipline.”
Vice stopped, in shock and horror.
Aggression, Defence. Something even the Galliard were afraid of.
And Victoria was fertile.
He knew what she intended to do. She was going to give herself to the Rapehounds – the creatures that she feared most, the things that had raped and traumatised her – and let them impregnate her.
So that they would defend her. So that they would defend the camp, and the girls. So that they would defend *Vice*.
She truly did love him. And she was showing it – the only way she knew how.
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