Theresa's Punishment Part 9

Chapter Ten.

Lounging upon his litter, Lord Eldral Thaine regarded the sprawling city about him. It was so much more bustling and hectic than life in the countryside. Only the heady brutal savagery of energetic warfare eclipsed such energetic fuss.

Six naked human fillies bore his vehicle. A seventh was fixed to the back by a leash and a leather sheath covered her body so she might make a more efficient footstool. About these trained steeds jogged a phalanx of his most favoured soldiers who all wore their full braids and battle honours.

The entire force kept meticulously in step as they moved through the streets towards the towering Temple. Behind the litter came the sealed coffins containing the alien captives. The locked metal boxes bore the restrained prisoners of war while human slaves were the pall bearers, and fully armoured soldiers kept a watchful eye about them. Eldral had taken no risks with this most valuable prize and had declined even the use of a motorised vehicle in case of sabotage or snipers. The ability of the enemy at infiltration was currently uncertain and even if it did not exist, he dared not offer them any opening by which to retrieve their fellows.

The challenge of breaking these creatures and extracting their knowledge through torture was one he would have gladly undertaken himself. Nevertheless, it was a matter of too much import to let foolish pride jeopardise it, and so he carried them to the Temple so the expert attentions of the Holy Order might drag forth confessions.

The first captured ship of the enemy had been sealed in a secret bunker near the s.p.a.ceport. The engineers and technicians of the Dregakk military were scrutinising its secrets, learning about it and seeking weaknesses. The dead crew were being dissected and examined, the morticians seeking physical flaws to exploit, while the living prizes were to have their data removed shortly before live experimentation began.

The taking of such a trophy had drastically raised his already high profile and favour in the Theocracy. The acquisition of the first major victory against the enemy, and the possibility of a key to their defeat was a deed of no small consequence. The t.i.tle of Warlord had never been closer to his grasp, and it was a post he had never even dreamed of attaining, so distant had it seemed from his clutches.

With such leadership, he would use the ma.s.sive advance of technology the aliens had given them. The capacity of this new alien breed for ruthless butchery was far eclipsed by that of the Dregakk. Exploiting such knowledge on how to reconfigure and misuse the building blocks of life itself would let the Dregakk rampage through the universe, expanding their realm to the furthest reaches of creation, unstoppable, and invincible.

Stirring from slumber, Theresa automatically stretched her body and her feet unwittingly pressing to the mesh fence. Pushing it out, she instigated a response from the poised cell before the slight stab of the barbs into her soles startled Theresa fully awake. Before she realised what she was doing the sensors within the frame decreed an excess of force, and the fanged latticework was instantly alive with wriggling serpentine arcs.

Theresa vented a scream and flung herself back. She slammed to the opposite side and shoved it with enough force to merit retaliation. The rigid teeth gnawed upon her back and the voltage made her wail and arch forward where she flopped onto the ground. The covert microphones discreetly placed amongst the cage listened to her sounds of distress and the noise cleared the parameters that they were programmed to accept. There was a click and then the entire construction blazed with scintillating power that had her dance and fight to break free. Theresa's cries then restarted the process and the resulting fight against the confines accentuated it further.

Mustering all her resolve, Theresa dropped into a ball and clenched herself into a firm foetal ma.s.s. Straining, she clamped her hands over her mouth and strove to endure the wiggling tendrils of bright force that were lapping at her and making her jolt and spasm. The pain was almost unbearable.

Keeping hold of her silence, croaking and choking, she awaited the end of the session, and with justice for her felonies meted out, the cage fell into dormancy once more.

Theresa exhaled slowly. Her muscles were flicking from the residue of the correction but she strained to keep herself still and quiet while riding out the last dregs. When her body was more stable, she permitted herself to breathe more steadily.

The fevered sweat that was adorning her fled. Her skin grew cold as the warmth was stolen away and this left her shivering and with teeth chattering.

Retaining the same pose to try to keep warm rather than for endurance, Theresa let herself drift into a recuperative stupor. Her synapses were dazed, and this made her thoughts addled and erratic.

Her hands reached around her body to try to comfort her many raw areas. The fencing had left little scratches and her limbs were aching. Fingertips brushed rings and she gave a shiver of licentious reply. Confused by her discipline, her mind locked on the source of pleasure and her hands started to toy with the nipple rings with far more devotion. The piercing had left the teats highly susceptible to any touch, and even the most gentle brush was a ravenous delight. Theresa sank into a libidinous trance and one hand started to trace down her body towards her p.u.s.s.y where it found the c.l.i.t ring and started to manipulate it. She turned it slowly through its fleshy morsel and lifted it back and forth, so that the metal moved against the tunnel and released shocking flashes of ecstasy. Her panting breath became the rapid respiration of a masturbating female and the arms of her depravity opened wide to accept her. The image of the gorgeous members of the Holy Order looming over as she lay strapped and helpless before their imperious gaze flooded into her minds eye. Her processing on the slat had been abominable at the time but that was because of enfeeblement, fear, and the sudden a.s.sault of their myriad attentions. Now she had time to take each chapter and dwell on it separately, to fully digest each moment of travail.

Her fingers gathered moisture from her arousal and she started to trace it around her s.e.x before exploiting it to slip a digit into her body. A little finger then hooked both c.l.i.t ring and nipple ring and each started to bestow gentle tugs. The minor stretching of the organic anchor caused flashes of bliss that soon had her pulling a little harder to ensure that a small measure of distress added to her rhapsody.

The heat of the branding iron entered her thoughts - the feel of her owners once more marking her as theirs. It was an act that kindled the darkest and most virulent emotions, those of hate and l.u.s.t, anger and rapture.

The elegant curves of their smooth bodies, so delightful and salacious, and yet adorned with vicious armour to thwart touch or sensual gratification. The cruel twist of their lips and the glint in their eyes when they watched her wail. To bring them pleasure was even more rewarding because they thrived on the most stern deeds of subjugation and torment.

Her feet started to stretch out towards the walls where she had the firm intention of levying some force and earning some punishment. Before she attained her goal, she was thankfully smothered in o.r.g.a.s.m. She turned over, tickled her rings, and soaked herself in bliss before she started to calm her actions. When she realised what she was about to do she froze and gently brought her legs back to her body. She blinked in befuddlement and let go of her rings. She could not believe she had almost willingly tortured herself. What was happening to her?

Afraid of what was growing inside her, Theresa pulled her limbs in tight and tried to find solace and refuge in captive sleep.

Screams rent the air and Theresa was startled from an unknown duration of sleep. Flipping onto all fours, she scuttled to the outside panel and peered down through the c.h.i.n.ks in her prison. Far below, a new slave - a blonde haired woman - was being put through the same process of introduction as herself. The pink haired gaoler was readying to snap rings into nose, c.l.i.toris, and b.r.e.a.s.t.s to make the woman announce her travail in expressive fullness.

There was no restoration of her speech. The captive had not been a member of a caste that required the destruction of communication, so the woman sobbed and begged with facility.

Theresa could not stop her intense arousal at listening to the imploring words or from watching the elegant frames of the women as they committed their dreadful work. Theresa's eyes were wide to capture every detail and she barely blinked.

A hand again wandered between her legs and started to circle on her inner thighs to tickle the soft skin and tease herself before she permitted indulgence. Her other hand toyed with her nipple rings, operating them as the woman gained her own. When the click of installation sounded, Theresa squeezed the teat and then pulled at the ring to make her back arch and loins thunder with new prurience. She did the same to her nose ring and then took great delight in abusing her c.l.i.t ring with eyes closed to savour the hollers of the woman below.

While Theresa enjoyed another long and depraved o.r.g.a.s.m, the female was branded and slotted into a cage. She was then delivered up onto the opposite wall and her cell was slipped in amongst the lugubrious mult.i.tudes. The sight of the scorching mark had Theresa absently tracing her own identification, whose ridges and trenches were deep and senseless. This made her concerned as to how long she had been asleep because the mark was healed.

With the distraction gone, Theresa returned to her own idle pondering. She thought about her fate, her past, her future, what had been done to her and what she had been forced to do. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, she could not stop the dejected thoughts from rolling around in her mind again and again, plaguing her with their presence, making her desire them. The boredom of the cell was a terrible thing because she could not stop herself from fantasising, and with the alluring members of the Holy Order within easy sight, every fantasy was one of torment and surrender to their perverse wants.

A hiss of pressure drew her head up. She looked to the far wall where the dark surface was parting at the centre. The seam expanded to present the faint image of a pa.s.sageway and an automated system snagged the base of her cell and ferried it deeper into the darkness.

The folds of inky midnight smothered her and made her cower in her cell like a frightened animal. The desolate possibilities of the unknown were the force she feared most.

The bleak chute continued on for a short way, and she watched the soft radiance from her former alcove dwindle. The doors closed once more and shut tight and to forbid the entry of any light at all.

Without warning the cage dropped. It plummeted down with speed and her body lifted a few inches from the ground because of the freefall. Screaming in terror, the instinctive response brought an automated one and the cage lashed her with a scourge of raw power. Her airborne frame was still in contact with the box and allowed it to channel its vengeance into her.

Theresa snapped her limbs back to herself, held tight, and secured her fright. She accepted the ride with tightly clenched eyes and prayed that she not strike solid ground.

The meteoric journey braked suddenly. The deceleration slammed her to the floor, winding her, and expelling her breath as a croak.

Slowing to a full halt, her trip through the internal maze paused to allow another cage to move pa.s.sed. The darkness hid the captive, who sobbed and whimpered from either having been recently abused, or from being destined for more.

The cage lurched onward and moved horizontally until she stopped again. A soft click signalled a change of direction and her prison rose directly up. The ceiling beyond parted and let light fall through. The roof of the cage restricted the influx but what there existed was still sufficient to dazzle her gloom-addicted sight. Theresa lifted her hands to shield her gaze and the ascent raised her into a room. The parted ground allowed her cage to rise up and then the floor sealed beneath her.

Squinting, Theresa surveyed her surroundings. She was within a circular chamber perhaps ten metres in diameter. The bare walls and floor were smooth and polished to a jet finish that amply reflected the light that streamed in from above. It was akin to being at the bottom of black well of exquisitely carved obsidian. The shaft rose up to a skylight and the gla.s.s pane sealed the vertical tunnel. It also provided a view of the clouds in the sky and the rest of the cathedral towering up. Theresa could see that this room clearly belonged to part of an outer spire.

Keeping still, she remained mute, in case the cage was still listening and laying in ambush to pounce and lambaste her with electricity once more. The tedium of the wait was harder on her now, for though she had the vault above to watch and leisurely study, it only made her wistfully think of home and all she had lost.

A section of the wall spoke with a few mumbled clicks and arose. It lifted up and exposed two grim figures of astounding aesthetic beauty. The sight of them made Theresa's jaw drop open and her heart sink in mortal dread.

A dark form stepped in first. The tall male was covered in a dense sheath of armour. The black chitin pieces were sculpted to organic perfection so that they flowed across his body like segmented skin and were armed with wicked spines along every outside edge. This quality gave the male a body that might belong to some barbed midnight insect, with gauntlets that ascended to curved, spear tip blades. The symbol of a stylised eye was impressed into the chest plate and the crimson disc that bore this heraldry threw out the pattern of membranous wings. These bat-like constructs flashed out to form into his shoulder guards.

The males pale face was slender and stern, with dark eyes locked beneath a frowning brow. His black hair was shaved away save for a long woven plait that emerged at the back of his skull and the tight braid was fixed with bone clasps. A sprawling tattoo covered the right side of his face and it rolled down from temple to cheek to jaw. The pattern of jagged lines was presented in an intertwining partnership of crimson and deep blue.

The High Theocrat herself stepped out in his wake, her rigorous but beautiful features magnified by the same artistic masterpiece of cosmetics that Theresa had already borne witness to. The woman still wielded the aura of diabolic omnipotence that Theresa had felt before, and the spider limbed head dress that kept her cascade of hair from her eyes was also familiar, but her attire had changed from the regal vestments of her station.

A fishnet catsuit provided a foundation for her ensemble and even this casual attire was no less intricate than that of her previous outfit. A strapless bra of polished gloss skin held about her torso and offered up her admirable b.r.e.a.s.t.s for the scrutiny and l.u.s.t of others the plunging cleavage beneath a fishnet pane being a picture of wonder. A thick collar of spiked metal segments rolled around her throat, with black metal pauldrons reaching out from it. The sculpted guards pa.s.sed her shoulders, ascended to jagged points, and served to drape her crimson skinned cloak behind her. The angry red fabric was supple, worn from age, and flowed behind her like ruddy water.

Her net ensnared arms slipped down into opera gloves of matching fabric to her bra. The fingers were armed with metal plates to give the image of slender gauntlets, and these armoured gloves ascended to vicious claws. A high cut thong flowed under a tight waist cincher and the clinging corset was flecked with blunt studs of silver and laced down the front. There were three buckles laid over the top and the belt threw down suspenders from its lower rim. The thin straps crossed her mesh tights and fixed to the pointed front of thigh boots. The dagger heel added to her imposing height and spoke in sharp clicks upon the hard floor when she strode past.

Gnawing needles of terror jabbed into Theresa's heart and mind to make her quail before the intense and dreadful glower of the priestess of pain. This female was the representing religious head of a world devoted to torture. What could she expect from the attention of such a demonic beast?

The High Theocrat touched the wall when she stepped through and into the sunlight. The main door closed to seal the room while two panels situated several meters up on either side turned about. Each revealed a human male affixed to them. The bodies had previously been facing into the coffins that had housed and hidden them and each was sealed within comprehensive coc.o.o.ns of black latex. Their hands were reduced to balled clubs by weighty mittens and their heads were sealed in transparent hoods. The tight oppressive hold stifled their speech and forced food tubes into their sealed lips. The skin of their bald heads glowed and threw an amber wash across the room, augmenting the weak sunlight and hiding their imploring gaze.

Unable to move in the slightest, only their p.e.n.i.ses were free. The shafts were positioned at shoulder height, were raised in salute, and were coated in latex. The t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es were bulged out beneath them by a rigid and heavily weighted collar at the base.

The High Theocrat turned aside and let the attending Dregakk male remove her cloak before hanging it on one of the raised c.o.c.ks.

Prowling through the room, the High Theocrat regarded the ceiling. She looked up at the sky as though she could see something beyond the clouds, a secret to which she alone was privy.

The male stepped over and his heavy tread sounded upon the slick surface of the floor like it was a stone drum. A touch to the roof of her cell had the locks retract suddenly.

He lifted the hatch and held it open while looking down at her, his sculptured features silhouetted against the sky.

"Get out, slave," he ordered. His voice was silken and laced with malevolence, stripped of emotion to render it a hollow vociferous tone.

Far too intimidated to resist them, Theresa yielded. Her spine gave several soft pops when it straightened from the lengthy hunched position and stepping out, she lowered into a squat. She was unwilling to show defiance by remaining upright before these consummate torturers.

The loss of its burden was detected and the floor parted to swallow her small prison and reseal again. No trace of even a seam was apparent to betray the main entrance to the room, or the pit that hid the human coop. Theresa wondered how many other such holes dotted the walls and floor, how many other slaves were loitering beneath her feet, waiting to be called up on a s.a.d.i.s.tic whim.

A heavy sole lifted up and brushed her shoulder. He placed a furrowed tread to the skin before shoving and sending Theresa sprawling onto her back.

The metal goliath towered over her. He looked to the Theocrat as though seeking approval, to which the glorious female glanced at her a.s.sistant, nodded covertly, and restored her intimate gaze to Theresa. She was studying the humbled human with near scientific intensity for an as yet unknown reason, and the mere prospect terrified.

With permission granted, the male lifted his forearm and flipped a small hatch. Tapping a claw upon the tiny keypad located within, his coded instructions prompted a reaction from the room itself. A beam started to extend far above the ground. The gallows extended and then locked into position before a piece of the underside started to lower. Two chains held the horizontal pole so that the apparatus was formed like a metal trapeze, one with heavy leather straps riveted along the suspended pole.

Simultaneously, a trench opened in the floor under the shadow of the descending implement. The hole allowed a leg spreader of equal size to the appliance above to rise on a squat column, and each end was adorned with a st.u.r.dy fetter. The floor restored its featureless integrity and the male indicated for Theresa to enter the awaiting arms of restraint.

Hesitant to comply, only her fear of them gave her cause to acquiesce. Standing up, she put her ankles to the bonds. The male leant down and fixed them in place so that the leather was gripping firmly to her skin, denying movement, and keeping her legs splayed wide. The hovering stave brushed her shoulders, and the male began to set the leather strips to her limbs. Her cruciform arms were encircled at wrist, elbow, and shoulder, and then a final tight belt encircled her throat to pin her to the strut and also exert a slight pressure at the neck that hampered her breath.

The chain retreated and this tightened her complete capture. Theresa was drawn from the ground and snapped taut between the two poles. Stretched terribly, her chest and legs strained with internal pressure, and her breath quickened while she scowled in perseverance. She tried to keep quiet lest she inspire harsher abuse for daring to trouble their ears with her complaints.

Wandering before her, the armoured figure moved to the wall and lifted his fist. When he put the knuckles to the jet mirror, there was a whirr of motion, and a small strut extended to clip to an awaiting aperture on his forearm.

With a wrench, he threw his arm back and dragged out the monstrous length of a single tail whip. The woven tongue of leather flashed from the tiny aperture after having been securely connected to the spine encrusted vambrace and the tip issued a crack of menace. The weapon then slithered to the floor and followed in his path when he strolled behind Theresa's suspended form.

Her wiggling toes tried to reach the floor and her arms tensed against the straps, trying to get free. The prospect of such a flogging had her livid with concern and she could not hold off soliciting mercy or explanation.

"What do you want of me?" she whispered softly, her meek voice trembling more than her body.

"Silence!" hissed the male.

Whirling his arm, he sent the whip out to lap at her back. Its flicking tip painted a long burning welt amidst a vibrant crack.

With a jolt, Theresa set free a holler and the sound washed through the tall room. The reflected image of the armoured form in the wall before her was distorted and hazy, but it still revealed him casting back the lash for another hack. The clue gave her a valuable moment to prepare herself.

"Wait," stated the High Theocrat.

The words stopped the a.s.sistant in his tracks.

His obedience to her was total and binding. "Have you not learned your place yet, slave?"

she asked, straightening from the wall and stepping closer, her heels issuing brittle clicks upon the ground.

"Well, have you?" she repeated.

The woman extended a clawed digit and hooked a nipple ring before she slowly pulled away. Drawing out the teat, she made it scald Theresa with intense malaise and flashes of havoc. "Stop, stop, please, Mistress!" she whimpered, throwing her head from side to side, trying to move her chest forward and alleviate the haul before the woman ripped the ring free.

"You call me Supreme G.o.ddess, slave. When I am of a disposition to allow you speech," she added.

"Please, Supreme G.o.ddess, stop, I beg of you!"

she shouted. Theresa was willing to say anything to stop the hold.

The other ring was snared and drawn out to reach the same extent as the other hoop. Theresa flew into weeping paroxysms and her fingers clawed at the solid chain responsible for keeping her elevated.

"You still have not answered my question, miserable ape creature," reminded the woman. The Theocrat nodded to the a.s.sistant, who applied a brutal lash. The tip gnawed into her hip and conjured another wild throe from Theresa's maliciously lengthened frame.

"Yes, Supreme G.o.ddess, I have!" Theresa howled, anxious to end the torment she had unwittingly instigated.

"Then what is it?" responded the religious icon. The Theocrat dragged further back and made a soft shrill scream swell at the back of Theresa's throat and then rise in volume. It became a strained wail before the woman let go.

The level of pain started to dwindle but the harried nipples were still torn by cramping suffering. Theresa's answer to the spiteful hold settled back into her wheezing breath.

"I ... I ... am a possession of the Phed Dregakk Theocracy," she replied after a moments unsure pondering. The ancient teachings of her tutor from the time of her initial abduction had risen through her larynx of their own accord. However, when they emerged they did so on a licentious rasp. The powerful throb of the welts and the domination of the pair had roused her craving for submission. The abuse to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her suspension, and being made to state her ownership caused flashes of wanton desire to rip through her. She was once more truly their slave.

"And?"

"And ... and ... I ... ' Theresa stammered, unable to think of anything to augment her response or to explain to them just how willing she was to surrender to anything they desired of her. Another nod brought another stroke. The fiery strip was painted deep into her shoulder and dragged a cry from her lips. Theresa's head lolled while she wept, unable to take the piercing sting of the whip, but unsure of what was expected of her.

"I don't know, Supreme G.o.ddess, I swear I don't know, just tell me and I will do it," she whimpered, looking to the comely woman with tears in her eyes and lines of saliva extending from slack, trembling lips.

Taloned digits clamped to her throat. They held firm and magnified the effect of the collar, thereby d.a.m.ning her to an inferior wheeze through a clamped throat.

"You are a disobedient lump of un-evolved filth. A defective leftover from a dead world. Do you understand now just how grim your fate is?

How tenuous your hold on life remains? You have disobeyed constantly, been rejected from caste after caste - a maid, a steed, a labourer. Even then you tried to escape, and have ended up here. There is no where else for you to go. You are the lowest of slaves, useful only to be experimented on and finally sacrificed. Is this not so?"

The High Theocrat was appraised of Theresa's history, knowing well the declining journey of her captivity, and there was little point resisting her.

Only trying to exonerate herself of the grave charges was left, and she began to plead her case with heartfelt conviction.

"It was not my fault, Supreme G.o.ddess. I tried to obey, I tried to do everything that was required of me, but I was forced to fail," she confessed. "Explain," purred the Theocrat.

The woman offered a flicker of a grin and retained the hold on Theresa's throat. As added incentive for the truth, she slipped a curved artificial nail through the hoop transfixing Theresa's c.l.i.toris.

"There was a girl. She persecuted me without reason from the moment I arrived. I tried to be a good slave but she kept picking on me."

"So? You think you deserve special treatment?

That a Dregakk should not do anything they wish with you?" she uttered, and Theresa was alarmed to feel her offering tiny pulls to the ring. The metal made her c.l.i.t churn with delight and Theresa sank more freely into the arms of her bondage.

"N ... no ... Supreme G.o.ddess, but it was done to make me fail without reason. My implant was activated while serving the master of the house to make me spill drink on him. The master of the stable was tricked by her into thinking that I l.u.s.ted after him, making him take vengeance on me. She made me take her on an illicit errand when I was a steed, and her mother tortured the information out of me. Because of that, I was sent to the fields to be gang raped each night. I had to flee, I had to, I was being starved to death by my own race. It wasn't my fault, Supreme G.o.ddess, I swear it, I swear I will be good, just give me a chance."

"Your tale breaks my cold heart, slave,"

mocked the woman, and drew on the flesh- attached ring pull to make Theresa choke on her cries. The hot maelstrom within the intimate morsel made her cavort against the suspended rack and Theresa was almost tempted to reveal the m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic creva.s.se that had opened in her soul.