Collared Slutgirls

Councillor Regina Graccus looked out to sea and wondered how the war was going back home.

The councillor was one of the elected leaders of the great Council of Sartoris, the independent city-state which formed part of a loose confederacy of free republics in the hotly contested area between the great Empire to the north and the Federation in the savannas to the south. But the bad blood between the Empire and Sartoris over the slave trade, which Regina and her colleagues bitterly opposed, had finally erupted into armed conflict and now imperial ships held a devastating blockade around her beloved city.

Sighing, Regina reluctantly stepped away from the sight of the rolling waves and began to return to her cabin. She could afford no distractions at this point. As the appointed ambassador to the Empire, she must conclude negotiations for peace successfully to avoid tragedy for her people. It was up to her — and the spies hidden in the cargo hold, disguised as the one type of property the Empire never thought to question: slaves.

It hadn’t been Regina’s idea to slip some of Sartoris’ most cunning spies into the imperial capital in the role of naked sex slaves, and she still had qualms over the issue. All the women chained below deck were volunteers, of course, but they were still allowing themselves to be treated as chattel, to be whipped, abused and ravished by brutal, unthinking men, for the sake of their city. It was almost too much to ask, but the two dozen mock slaves had all volunteered with alacrity, much as Triana had predicted.

Regina still missed Triana, her best friend from childhood and the woman she had expected to take the seat on the Council before she surprised everyone with her decision to go into diplomacy — a thin disguise for espionage, Regina knew. Triana had devised this mad plan of infiltrating the hall of imperial power with slave girls loyal to Sartoris and had even led the first shipment of mock sluts over several months ago. Her intelligence reports, smuggled home through a network Regina still could hardly comprehend, had been vital to the war effort, but Regina could only imagine the pain and misery her friend must be suffering in her disguise as a sex slave and it pained her to imagine her friend as a naked plaything for the lusts of men.

“Sail ahoy!” rang out over the deck from the crow’s nest and Regina turned back to look out to sea again. As a diplomatic mission, her ship was immune from predation from even imperial naval forces, though there was always the threat of pirates, even this deep into imperial waters. Still, two days out from the imperial capital, Regina hoped for no interruptions to her vital mission.

It didn’t take long for the miniature ship detected from aloft to grow into an imperial galley, slicing through the waves against the wind thanks to the oars plying the waters — oars held by naked galley slaves, Regina knew, and she shuddered with disgust, and a bit of illicit curiosity, at her imaginings of the poor, mistreated women chained to benches below deck and forced to push the oars to and fro with straining muscles, encouraged by the whip of a brutal overseer to give ever more effort no matter exhaustion or hunger.

“Raise the diplomatic colors, captain,” Regina commanded. The flags would tell the approaching galley of their mission and protected status and would hopefully prevent any long stops, or attempts at searches or seizures. She needed her slave spies to go to the right places, and conscription by a greedy imperial captain would damage those plans irreparably.

The colors were up in a flash but the galley showed no signs of deviating from its course to intercept their own ship, driven by sails rather than the enslaved labor of women, so the Sarotin ship simply continued along. Any attempt to flee would look too suspicious and lead to possibly fatal consequences. Best not to anger the imperials too much.

The galley soon drew alongside their ship and ropes and hooks were made fast to lash the two ships together in the choppy water. Then a gangplank was lashed into place and several imperial officers stepped across, accompanied by a honor guard of armed marines and, oddly enough, a naked slavegirl, her eyes downcast to hide her face behind her dark hair.

“Greetings, captain,” Regina said as she stepped forward to address the lead imperial. “I am Councillor Regina Graccus of Sartoris, on a diplomatic mission to the Empire. And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

The captain smiled, though it was the predatory smile of a shark, Regina thought.

“I am Captain Tiberius Fiero, of the imperial galley Hawktalon,” the captain said smoothly. “We are here, councillor, on a matter of imperial security.”

“Oh?” Regina stalled, wondering what tarradiddle he would produce to excuse such a breach of diplomatic norms.

“You see, we have information that you have unregistered slaves aboard this ship, despite Sartoris firmly declaring it and the other city-states never trade in slaves,” the captain said. “Furthermore, we understand these slaves are, in fact, spies in the service of Sartoris, hoping to learn imperial secrets in the guise of the lowliest creatures in our peaceful households.”

Regina’s face showed no change at the allegation but she was near panic within her false calm. How could he have obtained such information? Where was the leak in their command structure?

“Search the ship and find these alleged slaves,” the captain said. “We will teach these hapless sluts what slavery is really like once they are in imperial custody.”

Regina tried to stay calm even as the marines began to spread across the deck, their drawn swords convincing the ship’s small crew not to interfere.

“Captain, these are serious allegations that can be dealt with when we arrive at the harbor,” she said. “What you are doing here is a violation of diplomatic immunity and cannot be countenanced.”

The captain laughed. “You muster up false outrage very well, councillor,” he said. “But then, our friend told us you would.”

“Friend?” Regina asked, almost unwilling to hear the answer.

“Yes, dear Tia has been very helpful, haven’t you, my dear?” the captain said and pulled the slave girl forward by her leash. When the naked girl continued to stare at the ground, he grabbed her chin and forced it up, letting Regina see the tear-streaked face of her best friend in the world.

“I don’t know who this unfortunate woman is,” Regina managed to choke out, despite feeling anguish at seeing Triana shuffling in the captain’s grasp, her arms chained behind her, her legs connected with another short length of steel, while large golden rings adorned her surprisingly full breasts and seemed to have pierced her horribly prominent clitoris. “Should this mean something to me?”

“Oh, my dear, you are even better at this than I expected,” the captain almost purred in admiration. “Tia said you would be. She did try to be a good spy, but it turns out pretending to be a sex slave is no different than actualy being a sex slave when a girl is having to suck cock and ride her master on a regular basis. The poor slut was soon addicted to her master’s touch, like all good slave girls, and eventually felt so conflicted at her deception she told him everything. And he told us. Tia has been a gold mine of information since then, and good at feeding you false information, too.”

Regina’s heart sank at this and she looked at her friend, no longer a strong, confident woman but a slave girl who would betray her country at the behest of a man who kept her in chains.

“I’m sorry, Gina,” the slave girl said. “But I am a slave, truly. It’s what I’m meant to be. And that means I have to serve my master over everything. Even you.”

Regina took this heartbreaking plea without a shift in her stiffening mask of emotions and looked at the captain again.

“I don’t know what this woman has told you, but it cannot be true,” she said stiffly. “We are a peaceful diplomatic mission and nothing more. Tell your men to return to your ship and impede us no longer.”

“Delightful,” the captain said. “Defiant to the last. I only wish the playing field was more level so we could continue the game. But I have deadlines to keep, sadly, and cannot delay. So, I must inform you that your diplomatic credentials are no longer valid, for you have nothing to represent on a diplomatic level. The walls of Sartoris were breached yesterday and the city has fallen. According to imperial decree, it is now a protectorate of our just and beneficent government and will be absorbed into our empire in due course, once certain reparations are made.”

“I can hardly believe the word of an enemy combatant on that,” Regina said with bravado she no longer felt.

“My dear, I might try to mislead you for my own purposes, but I would never actually lie about such a thing,” the captain said. “It would not be sporting. It’s true. Sartoris is no more as an independent city state. And, as one of the leaders of the belligerent combatant that was, you are part of the reparations demanded in its surrender.”

“Say what you mean, captain,” Regina said with sinking heart.

“All of the women who once formed the Council of Sartoris have been remanded into imperial custody, to be stripped, collared and branded as slaves of the Empire and serve at its pleasure like any other naked slut,” the captain said. “And that will soon include you, dear Gina.”

“It’s not so bad,” the slave Tia said. “You’ll learn to love being a slave. The pleasure of serving a man who truly owns you is overwhelming. It means everything.”

“Take this slave away,” Regina said, ignoring the captain’s barbed use of her nickname. “I do not want to hear the words of a traitor.”

Tia’s face crumpled in misery but Regina saw nothing else as the captain motioned for one of the guards to take her back to the galley and the possession of her master.

“Brutal,” the captain said. “But appropriate. Until you wear your own collar, you are a free woman and a lowly slave girl should not speak to you so familiarly. I will see that her master punishes her appropriately.”

Regina swallowed but said nothing. Protests to protect her former friend would avail nothing, and she was hardly feeling charitable to this new person, “Tia,” anyway.

Before the conversation could continue, the marines returned from below deck, each pulling along a struggling, moaning girl by the leash attached to her collar. The would-be spies were now sporting large gags, preventing their protests from emerging as more than sputtering and wordless wails, as they were dragged off to make real their pretense of slavery.

“Take them aboard and get them properly branded,” the captain said. “Then teach them what their leaking slavecunts were really made for.”

Regina noticed with horrified fascination that the bound women did all seem to be damp between their writhing legs, some of them leaking almost profusely, as if their predicament had driven their arousal up against their conscious will. Was this why so many volunteered? How many girls jumped into a cage because of youthful fantasies of rapine and slavery? And was this why Triana, now Tia, crumbled under male domination so easily?

“Now, to handle your own conversion, councillor,” the captain said and suddenly he was next to her, gripping her arm with a firm, almost painful intensity.

“Unhand me, sir,” Regina said, but her bravado was all used up, and her breathy demand came across as more of a fearful plea.

“Not this time, my dear,” the captain said. “As reward for taking this ship, I get to keep you, and I’m going to enjoy it, believe me.”

Regina tried to pull away, but the captain’s grasp was like steel, and then she was too busy squealing and pulling in other direction as his other hand produced a dagger and began to cut away her dress. Then she was standing stock still, afraid to get too close to the pointed end of his weapon, as first her heaving bosom was revealed to the salty air, and then her undergarments were sliced completely away and the fabric was falling away to pool at her feet, leaving her naked on the rough deck but for her shoes and stockings.

She tried, as best she could with one arm gripped in an iron hand, to cover her bare breasts and exposed privates, but the captain grabbed her other arm and wrenched both behind her to, with practiced ease, lock her wrists together in steel shackles, leaving her arms uselessly bound behind her, unable to shield her shame.

Distracted by her futile testing of her manacles, she was further shocked when the captain’s hands were suddenly around her throat and then she heard the distinct click of a lock even as she felt the cold metal of the steel circlet embrace her neck as she was granted her very own slave collar.

“No,” she whispered, overwhelmed by her rapid descent from powerful free woman to owned property. This wasn’t supposed to happen to her, a woman from the free city of Sartoris. There was no slavery there, no risk of falling into sexual bondage through happenstance or tragedy. Yet here she was, a sex slave of the Empire, possessed by a man who had complete power over her.

“Yes, Gina,” the captain said. “That is your new name, now, unless I decide to take it away. There are certainly worse names. My brother named his breeding slave Cumguzzler, despite my protests that’s hardly a good name for the mother of his children. He’ll probably change it when the kids get older, though, he’s got a bit of maturing still to do.”

Gina shuddered at the thought of bearing such a demeaning name and then squealed as the captain — her master! She belonged to him as chattel! — threw her over his shoulder, so her head rested near the small of his back while her bare slavecunt was exposed to sight, and began to cross over to the galley. His hand caressed her ass and then delved a bit into her slavecunt to find it wet with shameful arousal she only now felt.

“You’ll be a horny little slut, won’t you?” the captain laughed and Gina flushed with misery even as she helplessly moaned a bit at his perceptive comment.

Gina expected her new owner to take her to his cabin, but instead he took her to the upper deck, where she rested over his shoulder like a sack of produce while he gave orders to man the captured ship with a few sailors to bring it in to port. Gina was glad the ship’s male crew would only be imprisoned until then, before being taken back to Sartoris for the rebuilding efforts. The Empire wasted no man it could instead use to strengthen its efforts. Women, on the other hand, would face chains and collar, without fail.

Master Tiberius, as her mind was slowly beginning to think of him as slavery descended on her, dropped her to the deck suddenly and she grunted, but then he was picking her up and throwing her over the rail, so suddenly she was resting on her stomach over the harsh wooden railing, looking over the ship, where she saw the other slaves taken in the ship’s capture each held in a marine’s grasp.

Gina shuffled a bit in her position, uncomfortable with having her ass sticking up over her head, but then Master Tiberius was right behind her, his codpiece removed to allow his bare cock to stroke her leaking slavecunt.

“You’re going to learn to love this, slut,” he said, and then with a cry of triumph, he sunk his tool to the hilt in her unprotected sheath.

Gina screamed in shock, but her lone wail was lost in a chorus of such cries as the marines began their own slaverapes of the other captive slave girls at that moment as well. The mingled screams, squeals and moans of both pain and pleasure were soon a steady background chorus to Gina’s own ordeal, as she was expelling her own litany of tortured sounds from her violation.

“Damn, slut, you’re a tight one,” Master Tiberius said.

Gina moaned in humiliation, but also pleasure, as the pain of her deflowering faded under the onslaught of bliss as her master’s cock rubbed against a place within her that brought stars to her eyes with each joyful thrust. Soon she was screaming again, but in unmitigated pleasure as she exploded into orgasm around her master’s tool, then again and once more under the steady onslaught.

This was why Tia ultimately fell into the truth of slavery after trying maintain the fiction. Who could think straight or keep secrets when a man could unleash a woman’s inner self of unrestrained lust and passion so easily?

Gina had no idea how much time passed, or how many times she came, before her master spilled his seed within her and then let slump in exhaustion to the deck. But she heard his next words, and they chilled her even as she exulted in the dreamy aftermath of her first slaverape.

“Brand her and then chain her to an oar with the rest of the new slaves.”

Hours later, Gina moaned in misery as her tired muscles sought the rhythm of the swaying oars to push the heavy wooden spar through the hateful sea, which fought her effort with a resistance that now felt personally directed at her.

She’d thought the burning pain of the brand on her thigh was the worst she could face, but then the crew chained her ankles to a bench below deck, linked the manacles around her wrists to the oar and then left her there, sharing the slender perch with one of her former spies, a slave girl who once went by Tessa and now was simply designated Slave 32.

Gina, in fact, was the only slave in the galley hold who still bore an actual name, rather than a number, but this odd detail didn’t make the coming ordeal any better for her.

When the drum began to beat, the overseer began to lay on the whip and the frightened, freshly-ravished slaves squealed and began to push at the oars. It took some time, and a lot more application of the heavy leather whip on their backs, before the new galley slaves found the proper rhythm, but soon they were steadily pushing the oars through the seawater outside and propelling the galley back to port.

Once they found the proper motion, the overseer stopped using the whip constantly, but he still flicked it out at a girl every now and then, as if to remind them of their work and the pain that ensued if the pace slacked at all. Gina pushed her oar as hard and fast as she could within the proscribed rhythm, doing her best to match 32’s efforts, but still the whip would lash out at times and bring the stinging agony on her back, causing her to cry out in pain and push the oar with redoubled efforts.

This continued for hours, with only one break so far for a quick drink of tepid water from a pail and a soggy bite of bread, and then the oar work continued. Gina wanted to weep at this harsh treatment, but she could not. All her tears, it seemed were gone, burned away in the lustful fires of her slaverape, which still pulsed within her despite the pain and misery of her current labor.

Night fell, and the drum finally ceased to beat. The girls panted in exhaustion on their benches, and then the sailors descened. They unlocked many of the galley slaves and took them up to the next level of the lower decks, where a ready room was available for just this sort of behavior, as they girls now had to labor in a different way, spreading their legs for their masters and squealing their ways through more slaverapes. Only when they had sated their chosen bedmates for the night would they get to sleep.

Gina wondered if anyone could choose her, but when the cabin boy unlocked her chains and led her away by her leash, she wondered where she would be taken, especially when he led her past the ready room.

Instead, he pushed her inside a different room, which she quickly realized was her master’s cabin. Master Tiberius was sitting to dinner with another man, who she recognized as Senator Horace from previous diplomatic journeys. At his feet, kneeling in rapt worship of her master, was the slave Tia.

“Come, Gina,” her master beckoned, and despite her fatigue, she almost skipped over to him, inexplicably happy to be in his presence again. How could she be so pleased to be next to her rapist? And why was she hoping he’d do it again?

“So this is what happened to Councillor Regina,” the senator said. “Appropriate. Had her down on a bench, huh, Tiberius?”

“All slaves on a galley must take a turn at the oars, senator,” the captain said. “It’s better for morale, and for discipline. Excepting those of guests, of course,” he added, motioning to Tia, who was clean and groomed, contrasting sharply with the sweat-covered, sea salt crusted body of the panting Gina.

“It’s still better than she deserves, I’d say,” Horace said. “She was the terror of the diplomatic corps, you know. I’d send her down a mine shaft, never to come up again.”

Gina shuddered but said nothing. A slave did not speak unless addressed.

“That’d be a waste, senator,” Master Tiberius said. “I’m going to keep her. She’ll warm my bed and bear my sons.”

Gina vibrated with pleasure at the idea of bearing her master’s children, not even wondering why she would want such a thing. If he wanted it, she wanted it, it seemed. One through slaverape and she’d been completely corrupted by her servitude, it seemed, but she was no longer able to feel disgusted at such a humiliation. That was the emotion of a free woman and she would never be that again.

“As long as she keep pushing that oar every now and then, it’ll have to do, I guess,” Horace said. “Say, I have an idea. Your Gina and my Tia knew each other before they found their proper roles. How about they entertain us for a bit?”

Tiberius laughed. “They’ll be amateurs, but enthusiastic at it, I’m sure. Gina, come over here and give Tia a kiss.”

Gina looked at her former friend, and current betrayer, and wondered what she would feel, but all she felt was the need to obey her master. So she crawled around the table and approached Tia, who was a very pretty girl, and then sank into a kiss with the other slave girl.

She meant to end it there, but Tia enthusiastically returned the kiss and soon the two slave girls were moaning and writhing in each other’s embrace, fingers buried in each other’s slavecunts as they quickly brought each other to grunting, moaning orgasm.

“Splendid!” Horace said. “I changed my mind, she’s too good for a quarry slave. Sell her to me, Captain Tiberius, and I can watch such a show all the time.”

“Sorry, friend Horace, but Gina belongs to me,” Tiberius said, which thrilled Gina even as she moaned into Tia’s open mouth.

Horace laughed at the expected refusal and the two continued to talk and drink while their slaves writhed against one another in blissful surrender.

After Horace left with his slave girl, Tiberius fed Gina a few treats from the table, insisting she eat them off his hand from a kneeling position, which she eagerly did. Then he proved she belonged to him, ravishing her throughout the night until she lost consciousness from the sustained pleasure.

Soon Gina fell into the rhythm of days. She would sleep late from her thorough slaverapes, but she would soon be back below deck pushing her oar alongside 32, who quickly became her bosom companion as her oar partner. As she grew stronger, the oar became less enemy and more partner as well, and while the labor was never easy or welcome, she would soon drop into a fugue state while pushing it along, the pain, exhaustion and bite of the whip all part of the nature of her slavery. By serving the ship on the bench, she served her master, and serving her master was all she wished to do. She was not happy below deck, but she was proud of her labor, like all the other galley slaves.

At night, she would return to her master’s cabin and serve him with her body, much to mutual delight.

After two weeks of this, they reached port, where Senator Horace and Tia departed for his villa outside the capital. Gina was allowed to say goodbye and she tearfully hugged her fellow slave, once again a dear friend, and thanked her for everything, including the betrayal that made her joyous slavery possible.

Some of the newly taken slaves were taken off ship to be sold at auction and replaced with stronger slaves to push the oars, but thankfully 32 remained and she and Gina embraced as well to know they would remain oar partners.

Gina did leave the ship, but only with the captain, who took her home with him during the fortnight they remained in port and serviced him at his regular request. By the time they returned to the ship, she was almost certain she was pregnant with his firstborn and she wept with joy to tell him so.

And then they returned to the ship, and to the sea, which was where her master truly belonged. And Gina took her place next to 32 on the galley bench, chained to it and the hateful, beloved oar, and began to push and pull the heavy wood to draw them out of port. She, too, was where she truly belonged, at long last.