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Chapter XIII � There are Various Ways to Serve
����������� Early in
the morning Nysia was startled into wakefulness,
unsure of what disturbed her sleep.� She looked
around nervously, trying to pierce the shadows, the motion rattling the chain
that bound her nightly to the room�s wall.�
Mistress yawned, roused by the sound, and spoke
drowsily, �It�s just the engines, Freckles.�
Go back to sleep.�� Nysia had wrinkled her brow in confusion: she couldn�t hear
the engines at all�.
����������� And then
it came to her: the engines had stopped.�
They�d never been completely powered down since she�d been taken from DiamondStar; always, the ship hummed with their vibration,
until now.� Wherever the ship had spent
the last weeks going, it had arrived.�
����������� Nysia hadn�t slept the rest of the night.� She was filled with dread at the unknown,
trying to guess at every possibility.�
Were they about to attack some other settlement, and would her mistress
be involved, and would she be okay?� It
was startling to realize she dreaded the possibility that Jillian could be
hurt, or killed.� Have I lost my sanity,
to feel ties to someone who gleefully tortures me for her own amusement?� How can I care this way for a woman, let
alone one so cruel?�
����������� Other
possibilities loomed.� The ship could be
at a base or friendly settlement where Nysia would be
sold, given away, or simply left behind.�
She would be helpless if she were freed: with no credit, no
identification, no home, hardly even any clothes, it didn�t take much
imagination to understand what she would have to do to survive.� Could I be a whore?� Could I take money for sex, quick and dirty
against a bulkhead, how the prostitutes in the books always operated?� She shuddered slightly, involuntarily, and realized
she would do it if she had to; that part of her would enjoy it, got wet at the
thought of a dominating, brutal pimp forcing her to fuck nameless men for payment
she would never see.� Yes, I could be
bartered like an animal and some part of me would be happy in my misery.� It wasn�t a comforting thought.�
����������� It was
early when Mistress rose, ship time; but it felt to Nysia
like the end of a long wait.� She tried
to be attentive � toweling, touching, licking just as
the major liked it.� She fawned like an
adoring lover, smiling, helping, anticipating.� But her owner was on edge as well, and the devotion
earned an irritated scowl at first, then a hard, backhanded slap across Nysia�s face, sending her sprawling to the bathroom
floor.�
����������� Her eyes
ablaze, still naked and wet from her shower, Mistress turned wordlessly to
continue the assault.� Nysia didn�t resist; she knew better than that, and simply
screamed and begged as blows snapped her head back and forth.� Blood flowed from her nose, filled her
mouth.� Her head rebounded from the wall
and reality seemed distant, the slap of skin more intense than the pain.� Somehow she was on the floor.� More beatings came, slaps but also fists,
bare feet slamming into her stomach, no air.�
She gasped, crawled after her breath as it was forced from her lungs,
then just lay still and cried as her sight blurred, then faded away.�
����������� Time
passed, as it does in dreamless sleep; without thought or notice, but with the
sense of temporal distance.� The beating
was over, though she knew it had continued longer than she�d been conscious.� She opened her eyes, and saw she was still in
the bathroom.� It took a few moments to
realize she was lying on the floor.� Then
the smell, and taste; blood and waste.�
With a jerk, she was fully awake and sat up.� She hurt all over, her head and stomach
throbbing with each heartbeat.�
����������� This was
a new pain for Nysia; in the past she�d endured much
more horrible tortures simulated through her implants, but when they ended most
of the physical ache had gone away, leaving only the nightmares.� I think I rather prefer it that way,
too.� After a moment the dizziness
passed.�
����������� The
stench around her was her own filth.� At
some point during the beating, she must have lost all physical control.� She sat in her own urine, scat and vomit; it
clung to her brown hair and slicked her pale body.� Some blood was mixed in as well, and there
were splatters across the walls, but it didn�t look like too much; just a
nosebleed, maybe a couple cuts is all, she thought with relief.�
����������� Mistress
stepped into the doorway, fastidiously avoiding the soiled floor as she buckled
her belt into place.� Finished dressing
and ready to leave for her day, she leaned over, smiling, and tenderly kissed Nysia�s forehead.�
�Thank you, dearest.� That was
exactly what I needed to get the stress out.�
Clean up when you�re able, and get some rest; I�ll see you tonight.�
����������� Nysia smiled back, weakly, and murmured in response.� �You�re welcome, Mistress.� Thank you.��
It was appropriate; she had planned the whole thing, after all, and knew
from Jillian�s contented happiness that Mistress wouldn�t leave her any time
soon.� Security was well worth a
beating.�
����������� With a
sigh, Nysia leaned back against the wall, still in
her grime, and teased a breast with one hand as her left slid a finger up from
behind.� She couldn�t do anything about
her soaking sex, couldn�t cum, but she was too turned on to do turn to chores
just yet.���
�����������
To be
continued:� Please submit a review of
this story on the bdsm library site � the author
needs feedback!�
This story is not for distribution or re-publication.� If you�ve read this work on any site other than BDSMLibrary, please contact me and give the library your patronage.� The Library is free, and the only reason to repost this is to illegally earn profit.�
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