Collared Slutgirls

A month on board a skyship isn’t terrible for passengers above decks, but for the slaves, it was a combination of monotony and ecstasy. There was little to do except talk — Anna found her other companion, Miranda, was a former employee of a successful modiste fallen into slavery through debt and, once she’d shaken off her shock, was a lively, well-read companion to talk to — and cum as their enforced sexual pleasure continued to rise and fall steadily.

The highlight of many days, aside from the countless orgasms, was the twice-daily feedings, when sailors would come and pour a thin gruel down each slave’s throat to keep them alive, followed by copious water to keep them hydrated despite their constant milking of sexual liquids by their alien companions. Aside from the food and drink, the girls were grateful for the men’s talk, which ignored them completely as the livestock they’d legally been reduced to and focused on various petty grievances, bets taken and news of the day from both passengers and back on Terra as super-rapid couriers brought newssheets to the more lumbering clippers and frigates on the gravity waves.

By the end of the first week, every slave knew every passenger and sailor on board and knew who was angry with whom, who was sleeping with whom and all the daily dramas in between.

Three weeks into the journey, Anna’s attention was caught by the sailors talking about a crackdown on illegal slaving and she nudged Sarah to pay attention once she’d come down from another crest of pleasure.

“They say the Duke of Cumberland is leading the charge,” one sailor said. “He and some Runner raided Lestrange’s club last week and rescued a dozen girls.”

“Cor and blimey,” the other said. “What happened to Lestrange?”

“They say the duke gutted him when the man tried to stab him.”

“Damn. Wonder what’ll happen to his bird of paradise there?”

“That whore Emily? They say she and all her flock were put in the cages where they’d kept their captives and they’re on their way to Mars now as slaves their own selves.”

When the sailors passed, Anna looked at Sarah.

“Richard is looking for us,” Anna said.

“It’s a bit too late for that now,” Sarah said.

“True,” Anna said, long ago having decided she’d never see her betrothed again. “But it’s still terribly romantic.”

The girls laughed softly and then tried to get some sleep between the crests of intense pleasure from their locked pussies.

Mars was hot, Anna realized, as she was led off the ship, locked into a coffle of slaves behind Miranda and in front of Sarah, linked to each other by a chain leading from collar to collar, their arms once again shackled behind them and their ankles chained together by short lengths to keep their steps short in the shuffling march.

If she’d been embarrassed to walk out into the bustling crowds wearing nothing but chains and the chastity belt, it was soon lost in the wonder of the Martian city. She forgot to try and angle her body to hide her swinging breasts from view in the wonder of gazing on the angular walls and spiral towers of Martian architecture; the bellowing beasts of burden, unlike any animals on Terra; and, of course, the Martians themselves, in blue and red and green varieties, all of them gazing covetously at the newly-arrived slaves, even when some had their own property walking behind them. They were almost as fascinating as their masters, as Anna looked at the women enthralled by alien masters, many swollen with child, all naked and collared, and realized she would be soon be one of them.

They were locked in a warehouse that night, once again shackled to an iron bar bolted to the floor, then led out at dawn to join a caravan heading to the Martian city of Nakoris, where they would be sold at last as breeding slaves.

Strangely, they had more freedom on the march through the desert than any time since. Surrounded by sand and deadly beasts, the Martians knew the sluts would not flee, so they allowed them to walk freely, at least within a penned area. Anna was able to reunite with Mary and Elizabeth who, along with Sarah and various new friends like Miranda, soon fell to fantasizing what their slavery would be like. Still interrupted by their sporadic orgasms, the girls realized their captors had been right in saying they would soon be eager to fuck anything.

For weeks now, Anna had been eyeing every man she could see with considering lust, wondering what their cocks would feel like in her snug cunt and wishing she could remove her belt so she could find out. But Martian masters wanted to ensure their slaves were unbred when bought, so the belts stayed on to keep the girls from falling pregnant before their auction.

A second caravan caught up with them two weeks into the desert and Anna and her friends were mingling with the new slave arrivals when they found Emily in the midst of the crowd.

Emily paled when she saw her former captives approach but refused to back down, even as she quivered with fear and orgasm alike in her own belt.

“So, is it anything like you imagined it would be?” Anna asked when she drew near to the former mistress.

Emily understood and smiled wanly. “It’s even better,” she said and was surprised when she was simply drawn into the group of slaves, her crimes forgotten beneath the weight of the shared burden of slavery.

Nakoris was a secret city, insofar as no free Terran had ever been allowed within sight of its walls and towers. There, far from the prying eyes of the Terran governments and their male lackeys, the Martians brought their captive slaves and sold them at auction, fought for them in mock battles and continued the race through constant rape and impregnation of a steady stream of girl slaves from the third world of the solar system.

Once they arrived, eyes wide at the colossal sights of the market city, the slaves were whisked down narrow streets and then marched into a building no different in appearance than any other on the street. Then the Martian guards withdrew and the outer door was locked.

As soon as the door was barred, the inner door opened and out came Terran women, all naked and collared like the new arrivals, but these were not unused slaves. These girls were not belted, while many were marked with brands, ritual tattoos, rings pierced through ears, lips, nose, belly buttons and even nipples and clitoris on occasion, no slave looking exactly like the other in ornamentation. Many of them were pregnant.

“Come, slaves, we must prepare you for sale,” the lead slave said and they led the coffle into a large room filled with baths and various tools.

“First things first,” the slave said and she clapped her hands. The myriad slaves behind her approached with keys and soon had the slaves chains removed, leaving them in collars and shackles but with more mobility any of them had experienced since their first capture.

“Next,” she said and clapped again.

A slave approached the first new slut in line with a bucket, while a second brought a key. Quickly, the key was inserted into the lock of her chastity belt and the iron cage fell away from the slut’s pubic mound. Immediately, the other slave plunged her hand into the slut’s pussy, grabbed and yanked, coming away with a writhing slug creature that was quickly dropped in the bucket of briny water for preservation. The slut whose pussy had been freed of its invader squealed in ecstasy as she convulsed in one final orgasm from her departing companion.

One by one, each girl had her creature removed with the same orgasmic results, then were dragged semi-conscious into a large bath to scrub and beautify to Martian standards.

By the time Anna came back to her senses, she was already out of the tub, flushed from the hot water and a thorough scrubbing, and was dropped into a chair so the slaves could cut and style her hair, trim her fingernails and toenails, shave hair from her legs, armpits and pubic mound and scrape away calluses on her soles with a soft stone.

“Basic package, mistresss?” one slave asked of the lead salve and, on receiving a nod, the slave locked Anna’s shackles to the arms and legs of her chair. Anna watched concernedly as the slave then picked up tongs and approached her chest.

“What are you doing?” Anna started to ask and then the slave grabbed one nipple in the tongs and pulled out, stretching the sensitive teat until Anna squealed in pain. The pain increased into a sharp bit and when Anna blinked away tears, she saw a needle removed from her nipple, quickly replaced by a ring slid into the hole and locked in place. She tried to pull away when the tongs approached her other nipple but she was unable to move and could only cry out as the other nipple was ringed.

Similar rings were placed in her earlobes, though without so much pain, and then Anna howled as a burning pain hit her on the thigh. When she looked down, she realized she’d been branded with the Martian symbol for slave on her left leg, a permanent symbol of her slavery.

Anna was unlocked from the chair and sent walking to the end of the room, where other slaves were milling around a locked door. She had to adjust her walk to her new gait, not only trying to avoid the dull pain from her new brand, but also re-accustom herself to moving without the cumbersome chastity belt.

Once all the new slaves were assembled, the lead slave approached.

“You will be sold soon,” she said. “Try to please your master and you will be happy, I promise.”

Then the locked door swung open and the girls walked through to their future.

Later, Anna would describe the auction as a blur. Each girl went through one at a time, so Anna only heard the dull roar of a boisterous crowd and the sharp cries of bids from down a long hallway until she was collected by a female slave — no Martian was allowed near the unbelted slaves until she was formally claimed by a master — and led to the stage.

When she reached the auction block, the lights were nearly blinding but she walked as calmly as she could to the center of the stage and stood, one arm cocked on a hip, the other held slightly above her head as the slave had instructed her. She knew she looked sexual and provocative but her leaking pussy, both missing the addictive stimulation it had so recently enjoyed and excited by the knowledge was being examined as merchandise, meant she embraced the sensation.

She sold within minutes for a sum she barely understood and was whisked off stage by a different slave, who instructed her to put on a belt again. She did, disappointed she would not enjoy relations with her master right away, and then was led into a holding room for her new master to arrive.

Instead, a simple guard came some time later and guided her down a different hallway to an outer door and into a group of milling slaves and Martians. All the slaves were belted, Anna noticed, and then she noticed she knew all of them — Sarah, Emily, Mary, Elizabeth, Miranda and several others from the skyship.

“Finally, this is the last one,” one green Martian growled. “Let’s be gone from this city and take these sluts to the markets near the canal cities.”

Anna understood then they were only being bought to be sold again, which explained the belt. She wasn’t sure that was legal in Martian custom but, as a slave, she said nothing.

Within the hour, they were out of the city and the tall towers of Nakoris lost to sight behind the shifting dunes of the desert.

Three days later, the warband appeared on the horizon.

The green Martians murmured when it appeared and gazed at it through ornate spyglasses. Anna overheard them talking about red Martians, though only a dozen or so in strength, with one Terran, a sight which confounded them all. Terrans were tolerated for the slaves they brought and the weapons they could make, but few were respected, aside from some scholars, such as the well-regarded Wise Man of Terra who honored all Martian customs and was welcome in all camps. But he was a peaceful man. No Martian warband would ride with a Terran warrior.

Yet the warband drew closer quickly and the green Martians, who had expected no attacks even this far out from Nakoris, were caught off guard. They fled too late and, hours later, were throwing the slaves to the ground in a huddle and then circling around to fight off their attackers. Although the warband was better armed, they were outnumbered two to one and the green Martians expected to win this fight.

They were wrong. The red Martians rode down in a curtain of dust and war cries and were soon on the ground and dueling blade to blade with the greens. The ferocity of the attack caught the slavers off guard and several fell almost at once.

Most shocking of all was the Terran, robed and garbed for the desert, fighting with a Martian scimitar cut to his size and strength, and cutting down three attackers within so many minutes.

In less than 10 minutes, all the green Martians were dead and the red Martians surrounded the slaves, though did not touch them. The Terran approached, his face obscured by his robes, pulled up to guard against sand and dust.

“Where is the slave Anastasia?” the Terran asked and Anna’s head popped up from the mass of slaves without thinking.

“My god, Anna, I’ve found you,” the Terran yelled and pulled her from the crowd and spun her around in a circle. Then he pulled away his mask to reveal himself as the Duke of Cumberland.

“Richard?” Anna asked in amazement. “How are you here?”

Richard laughed. “You didn’t think anyone could take you from me for long, did you?”

“But riding with Martians?”

“These are my friends and companions,” he said. “They call me the Blade of Terra and say I’m the only Terran to ride to war in Mars in the long history of the Red Planet.”

Anna smiled but then she looked down. “What will you do with me now? I’m a slave and can never go back to Terra.”

Richard merely laughed again. “Why, I’m claiming you as my slave, of course. I’ll build an estate here and keep you as my breeding slave. There’s no law against it, after all.”

Anna looked at him in wonder. “Master?” she asked shyly.

Richard’s eyes turned predatory. “Yes, my little slut, I am your master.”

Anna dropped to her knees and kissed his feet. “Take me, master,” she breathed, her cunt spasming with expectant joy.

“Friends,” Richard said. “The rest of the slaves are yours for the taking. I said I’d get you all breeders and here they are, including my own sister. Enjoy!”

The other slaves squealed as the red Martians quickly grabbed each of them up and soon had them on the ground, writhing in pleasure as they were thoroughly slaveraped for the first time.

Richard, meanwhile, forced Anna to her hands and knees, walked around her delectable body and then, with a quick twist of his robes, freed his cock and plunged it into his new slave’s cunt.

Anna wailed at the invasion even as she came explosively, her entire body claimed at last by the man she’d dreamed she’d lost. Instead, she soon was begging for more as Richard ravished her to orgasm again and again, a true slave girl at last.

Hours later, after each Martian had finally finished seeding his new broodmare, the riders mounted again, each with their slave chained in front of them, and rode off into the desert winds.

Epilogue

Within five years, Richard, Duke of Cumberland, had built an estate on the edge of British Mars and red Martian caravan trails, a large but intimate fortress with both Terran and Martian architecture intertwined.

There, he and his slave, Anna, were raising their four children, including the Marquess of Cambridge, heir to the duke’s title one day by royal dispensation, despite Richard’s legal inability to marry his breeding slave.

Anna was content. She saw her friends constantly, as their masters were often guests at the estate, often when inviting Richard on the war trail as their honorary warlord.

She had two strong sons, who were learning the ways of Martian warriors and British gentlemen alike, and two beautiful daughters, who might one day make wonderful marriages in the ballrooms of the ton, if they weren’t collared and enslaved by Martian warriors first.

And she suspected she was pregnant again, which would once again put her ahead of Emily and Sarah, who were both competing to provide their masters with the most offspring.

Yes, life on Mars was good, especially for a slave.