III – The Trainer

Crossing the threshold into the chamber currently occupied by the ship’s mistress and her two new human playthings, splayed claws ringing on the metal deck as she approached, Ak’vel the slave-trainer sniffed the delicious scents of sweat, semen and fear.

More than two and a half meters in height, she was nearly three-quarter of a head taller than Kyrah. As the only representative of the Shix people aboard, Ak’vel made an imposing figure even to the workers and menials in the Goddess’ Hand’s employ.

Despite her bulging musculature and humongous frame, her grey-purple skin smooth and warm, she still had an hourglass figure that marked her as female for anyone unable to see past her muscles. Her enormous breasts were, currently, squeezed up and together by black plates of armour reminiscent of seashells, displaying plenty of cleavage and underboob. The only other garbs she currently adorned herself with was a scant pair of thick, dark panties, two plates of layered armour on her hips, and matching thigh-highs and elbow-gloves the same material and colour as the panties. On her hip hung a coiled, wicked lash, her choice tool for discipline.

Her head sported long, thick tresses – that were nearly so black as to be purple – down to the small of her back, one side of it hooked behind a pointed ear, a single length of her right bang dyed blood red next to another dyed white. At the corners of her mouth, spurting from between her full, dark turquoise lips were a pair of short, slender tusks, similar – but black – protrusions sticking out from beneath her lower lip like mandibles. Her forehead, cheek and midriff – toned through decades of warrior regimens to such an extent that one could make out every individual muscle even at a distance – there were snaking symbols painted with black and white, giving her imposing form a strange kind of wicked nobility.

A slim, delicate layer of tiny plates of armour ran from between her eyebrows, down the bridge of her nose nearly to the tip of it; the only ornamentation she used.

Up until around twenty standard years ago, Ak’vel had been a soldier in the venerable Axxchin Strike Force. She had been ruthless, fierce, relishing stomping her claws in the pools of the blood of the vanquished. She delighted in combat, yearned for it, but at the conclusion of the Empire’s last conquest, the mistress of the Goddess’ Hand had inquired to Ak’vel’s superiors to acquire the Shix as her new slave-trainer, well aware of not only her desire to rape, but also her twisted personality which would make slaves afraid to do anything but comply in her presence.

Initially, Ak’vel had not been very pleased with her superiors agreeing to hand her contract over to Kyrah, but had in time come to love her new job – on the condition that she always got to fight when the chance was presented. Her chamber aboard the Goddess’ Hand had an armour-stand displaying her suit of combat-plate and a gun-rack lined with everything the Thelluloid arsenal had to offer. She longed to go down to this planet called Earth and rejoice in the high of battle once more, but until she was let loose, she had work to do.

Striding towards the throne next to one of the many red Ishenk restraint-devices, her heavy footfalls reverberating from side to side in the narrow chamber, Ak’vel’s opal eyes, so dark that her pupils were nearly invisible, landed on the human male hanging in one of the Ishenk.

So, she mused, her tongue licking the inside of her teeth with building lust, this is Kyrah’s new stallion. Humans sure are small…

Next, her eyes fell upon the human mare, kneeling between Kyrah’s thighs and forced to orally service her new owner. She was tiny as well, but she had a sublime body and a face that would look divine when grimacing in agony from hard rape.

When the humans’ eyes looked upon Ak’vel for the first time, like most alien races, they widened in disbelieving terror at the immense form before them. As far as the Thelluloid Empire knew, throughout their millennia of intergalactic conquest, the Shix were the single largest humanoid lifeform in the universe. It suited the Shix well, most of which enjoying beholding all other races like gnats before their might.

“Slaves, this is Ak’vel, my prestigious slave-trainer,” Kyrah announced at Ak’vel’s approach, pulling the human female from between her legs by her hair to let her see better, and to let the trainer see her better as well.

“I must say, these humans are tiny,” Ak’vel mentioned, standing in front of the male, towering over him.

Kayven’s eyes struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. He had seen bears smaller than this woman. Her immense, muscular thighs looked to be larger than his torso, and the breasts, looking barely contained in the teensy plates of armour, appeared each to be twice as big as his head. His teeth clamped down on the gag in renewed fright.

Tara, too, starred in disbelief at the humongous newcomer. Kneeling on the cold deck, Ak’vel appeared even larger than she did to Kayven. The skin over her muscular back seemed so tight as though it was ready to break away, and the wicked claws on her feet – and protruding from her heel – were not far from being as big as Tara’s feet. Each.

Ak’vel turned around, looking down at the female, flashing the terrified girl a sinister grin. “You called for me?” she addressed the ship’s mistress.

“Yes.” Her hand still gripped the female by her hair. She shoved her face between her thighs again. This time the slave knew what to do to make it easier for herself. Quick learner, Kyrah mused with disappointment. She preferred it when they needed plenty of incentive. Of course, she could invent any reason why a slave needed incentive.

“I have finally had a good taste of semen again, but my new stallion has run dry already.”

“Really?” the slave-trainer muttered, grabbing the back of his head and yanking it back, turning his head this way and that, inspecting him. “That will not do.”

“Indeed,” Kyrah sighed, having succeeded in making the mare use her tongue with more gusto. “I expect his body has not fully adjusted to its new functions.”

“Well, it does take around a day for everything to run normally.”

“Yes. At any rate, I have at least had my fill for now. But I would like you to stimulate his body where needed to expedite the increase in his sperm-production. You are free to choose the method, though I would be upset if you waste any of his seed. Besides, it will give the two of you a chance to get acquainted.”

Ak’vel nearly scoffed. She enjoyed the taste of seed, but Kyrah was an addict, in any and all sense of the word. The Ar’a were all prone to addictions of various form, semen being a common one, which was why the Thelluloid Empire had many, vast facilities where male slaves from across the universe were mercilessly milked at all times, their creamy, thick seed exported to every corner of the Empire to those without the luxury of their personal male slave. Kyrah had rid herself of depending on purchasing semen by getting a semen-slave of her own, but the Goddess’ Hand milked its male in a more specialized way than the milk-farms’ production lines. An inconvenient by-product were untimely deaths, but the bioengineers felt confident human males would not succumb to heart-failure as easily give the right augmentation. So far, the Thelluloid slave overseers were excited about the prospect of getting human males hooked up in the milk-farms as soon as possible.

Ak’vel did not delude herself that she did not enjoy consuming male seed, but her hunger was not nearly that of Kyrah’s. Or that of the mistress’ pet creature in Sub-Level 6.

“And for how long will I have the pleasure of his company?” Her other hand explored his torso, trailing his muscles and eventually feeling up his flaccid manhood, delighting in his frightened whimpers.

“As long as whatever you drain from him is collected via the machinery, you can keep him until tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow” seemed like a void term aboard a space-vessel, but all Thelluloid-ships followed a synched clock mimicking the day and night cycle of the Empire’s throneworld, Tarash.

“And my restrictions?” Ak’vel’s massive hand reached around to feel the human’s ass. Ak’vel so liked nice asses.

Kyrah arched an eyebrow at her slave-trainer. Good as she was at what she did, she was a brutal sort. She had more than once needed to remind Ak’vel to limit her use of force. A problem with the Shix was that, despite being larger than all other known species of sentient lifeforms, they still did not hold their strength back – nor always realize how much force was more than enough.

“As long as you keep stimulating him you may do as you wish. But do not injure him today. He has a packed schedule.” She received a nod from Ak’vel.

Kayven’s heart hammered in his chest. He did not like the way the sinister women spoke about him as though he was not there. But worst of all were the unknown implications of what they were saying. He did not initially register that the gag was taken out of his mouth by Ak’vel.”

“What is your name, slave?” she asked, the tone daring him not to answer truthfully.

“Kayven,” he stammered, his throat suddenly dry as a desert.

“Tell me, Kayven, for I don’t know if it is common on your world. Have you been fucked in the ass before?”

Eyes widening in terror, mouth opening and closing as though trying to speak but not finding the words, his whole body tensed in warning. “No,” he eventually managed.

Ak’vel turned to Kyrah. “Will you be upset if I take his virginity?”

“Not at all,” Kyrah gasped, her clit being wondrously pushed by her new female slave. “His prostate will need stimulation as well, after all.”

Grinning, the row of teeth and tusks chilling Kayven to the bones, he was suddenly released from the red object as the silent lightning binding him was switched off, and the leg-clamps opened. Before he could fall on his face, Ak’vel, using one hand, grabbed him by the back of his neck and hoisted him up, then shoved him to the floor. The slave trainer locked the cuffs around his wrists behind his back similar to Tara.

Pinning him down with one massive knee pressing against his back, Ak’vel secured the gag back in place, then heaved him up by his upper arm. Standing behind the human, the slave-trainer grabbed both of his ass-cheeks, kneading them, squeezing them, pulling on them.

“He does have a very nice ass,” she murmured. “I think I will enjoy fucking it.”

“Then go,” Kyrah whimpered, close to orgasm. “I want semen-production to be running at full capacity tomorrow.”

Ak’vel licked her lips. She suddenly looked forward to drinking cum again. “Let us go to my playroom, slave.” She grabbed Kayven by the back of his neck again and started marching him towards the door. “I promise I won’t be gentle.”

Kyrah came again, a bit harder than the first time, all over the female’s face. Gasping with delight, she pulled Tara’s head from between her legs. “Better,” she commented. “But you still have a long way to go before you have me screaming. I think we need to give you proper incentive.”

Liberated from Kyrah’s thick, warm thighs, Tara turned to Kayven, her face covered in the alien’s orgasm. She caught a glimpse of her partner’s despairing face just as the slave-trainer shoved him out the door, before it slid shut behind them.

In the soundless void of space, the assault-carrier Deimos, the last surviving ship of half of Battlegroup Zulu that had been present in the Sol System when the aliens arrived, had for hours managed to elude contact with the enemy vessels in the solar system after it had hastily dropped its contingent of battle-mechs and tanks on Earth. Snaking through the enemy formations, using its formidable speed to race away from danger, the Deimos was desperately trying to reach the rest of the CTDD fleet massing outside the system.

However, a new wave of ten enemy vessels had forced the assault-carrier to change course, and realized too late they were being shepherded into a trap. In order to avoid the massive guns of the alien fleet, the Deimos had to avoid certain headings, but now realized it was trapped no matter where it went. It did not help matters that the enemy vessel that was about to catch up with it was the largest ship that had taken up positions in high-orbit above Earth.

On the bridge of the Everlasting Fury, High Executrix Zheya could feel the urge for violence rising, tingling all the way out to her fingertips. The lone enemy vessel had been given free reign for far too long. The fighting on Earth was going well, so the High Executrix, master of the Axxchin Strike Force, had decided to break away from orbit and engage the humans herself, to sate her own lust for close, personal, ship-to-ship battle, and to sate the bloodlust of her crew as well.

“Prepare for boarding action,” her commanding, confident voice announced. The Everlasting Fury raced ahead towards its quarry, weapon batteries quivering with energy, boarding-claws preparing to grab onto the human vessel with not a single intent to let it go.

The void lit up as huge swathes of crackling energy soared from the hissing muzzles of the Fury’s forward batteries. Without a sound, the green lightning speared through space, smashing against the primitive energy-shields of the human ship. Taking the full force of the half-dozen guns nearly detonated the shield immediately, but in a strike of luck – for the humans – the generators merely failed instead of bursting, dropping the shields and leaving the dark form of the assault-carrier naked before the approaching alien capital ship.

Since it was a carrier, the Deimos had little in terms of guns with which to defend itself. It was supposed to be surrounded by other CTDD cruisers and frigates, protected by the batteries of other vessels while it deployed its deadly cargo of fighters from the NoCAR – Northern Combine Assault Regiment – supported by their impressive number of battle-machines. But now, caught alone against an enemy vessel so clearly superior in every way, the Deimos might have had the crew fire their sidearms at the massive, dark ship for all the good it did them.

The flank of the Deimos erupted in silent cacophonies as they fired all they had to offer – kinetic shells, thermonuclear void-missiles, lesser lance beams – at the approaching enemy vessel, but its shield absorbed everything, the ship itself appearing to smile at the pathetic effort as it closed the distance.

The assault-carrier kept pounding the aliens to no avail. Strangely, the enemy did not fire again after their opening volley had taken out the Deimos’ shields, but their intent became all-too evident when the ship came about perilously close to the carrier – they meant to board.

Without hope to flee, the enemy ship now too close to fire upon lest they risk damage to their own, unshielded vessel, the Deimos could do nothing but watch as a series of claw-like tendrils was fired from the flank of the enemy ship. The claws smashed clean through the hull of the Deimos, gripping fast and sending ripples and tremors throughout the ship, making the crew fall over one another, fearing the carrier was about to be rent apart. Watching the cables connecting the claws to the ship they were fired from through the Deimos’ sensor-arrays, the observers witnessed them tighten and harden, forming tunnels from which the aliens could spill into the Deimos.

The boarding-alert had gone out too late, at any rate.

The ship was lost. That much was clear after just ten minutes of fighting. The enemy, having entered the Deimos from seven locations, were spreading like proverbial wildfire throughout the decks, killing at will, sparing nobody.

The few places where the warriors of the NoCAR’s 3^rd Assault Division – the only division not deployed to Earth, to be kept in reserve – had managed to erect makeshift barriers and bring their battle-engines to the fight, the aliens were hard pressed to advance, but advance they did.

Through a hailstorm of bullets, seemingly unheeding of their own losses, the power-armoured aliens smashed into the lines of the Deimos’ defenders, breaking the human defences no matter where encountered.

Raquel, a mechanic with the 3^rd Division, specialized in repairing and maintaining Mk. IV Saturn-pattern Grinder-mechs – so named for the arms wielding eight-barrelled Vulcan-guns – tossed her wrench in frustration at her successive failures, the tool bounding off the metal wall, the clanks it made when it fell to the floor barely audible over the gunfire just down the corridor.

She gripped her back-long brown tresses at the sides of her head in annoyance, matching-coloured eyes starring with anger at the machine below her that she was supposed to be an expert at maintaining.

The Grinder had taken a stray beam of energy from an alien weapon to the right hip, sending the bipedal walker crashing to the deck, its immaculate orange paintjob – the mark of the 1^st Grinder Company – scorched black around the impact. The shot had just grazed the walker, and getting it back on its feet should have been a simple issue for Raquel as it was merely missing part of a hydraulic hose – a critical part nonetheless – but the main problem was how the blast of energy had melted the hose with the metal, fusing them together. Getting them separated was proving to be a task Raquel could not do anything about in the current situation with only basic tools hanging on her belt at the hip.

“Any time will be good, sweetheart,” the Grinder’s pilot, Cody, muttered over the din of battle just around the corner, covering the mechanic with his sidearm – a pebble against the firestorm.

Raquel jumped off the walker, her large breasts bouncing in the tight confines of her brown tank top that bared her athletic belly, the words “Mechanize & Defend” tattooed across under her navel. Sweat dripping down her neck and in between her cleavage, Raquel shouted at the hotshot pilot, “Fuck you, Cody, I already told you there’s nothing I can do! The fucking hose is melted into the metal!”

Such a spicy girl, Cody thought, but then Latina women usually were. “Well if you can’t get it running again, we should be the ones running.”

Cody pinched at his goatee as the mechanic bent over to retrieve her wrench. Even being boarded by a superior enemy did not distract him from checking out her sublime ass, but he did admit to having other concerns at the moment. Dressed in only his black and grey pilot body glove with his name and rank emblazoned at the chest, the venerable Hawk-emblem of 1^st Grinder Company printed on the shoulders, Cody felt naked when he was not inside his walker, which he had named “Conquistador” to annoy Raquel, a woman he had met – and immediately decided he wanted to see naked – on his first day with the NoCAR’s 3^rd Division.

He scratched the shaved flank of his head, smoothing down the hair on the top of his scalp as Raquel shoved the wrench into her tool-holster and drew her sidearm from the opposite hip.

“Then let’s get going,” she growled.

They made their way away from the sounds of battle, trying to make their way to the lifeboats. The order to abandon ship had been announced nearly as soon as the claws from the alien ship were launched, but not one hand aboard the Deimos believed fleeing would help. At least it increased the chances of survival, for aboard the Deimos it was equal to nil.

The mechanic and the Grinder-pilot rushed through the ship’s blue-grey corridors that would have been hexagonal if not for the level deck, stepping over fellow fighters of the 3^rd and the Deimos’ deckhands that lay brutally slaughtered in their own gore, littering the decks. Here and there, the odd dead alien added their blood to the mix, but going by casualties alone, it was not in question who were winning the battle.

Raquel had to fight her nausea down at all the dead and the strong stench of blood, but Cody, having seen battle against the separatists in the Arcturus stream, managed to keep a level head, pulling the mechanic by her arm.

They did not realize it, but the way they took detours and service-ladders to circumvent the fighting to get to safety was not unlike how the Deimos had attempted to avoid the alien fleets, only to be caught in the middle of the predators. They understood it well enough when they found themselves face to face with one of the massive, vacuum-sealed gateways linking the Deimos to the alien ship.

Cursing and swearing, Cody looked around for another path. The way they had come had detonated violently after they had cleared the corridor, so there was no going back that way. The other path, leading towards one of the mustering hangars where huge dropships ferried the battle-machines to the surface was brimming with aliens, some of them having spotted the duo standing by the mouth of the tunnel bridging the human and alien ships.

Firing their ineffective sidearms at a quad of approaching aliens in powered armour as red as blood, Raquel and Cody were forced into the tunnel to escape the blasts of alien energy, chased headlong to find shelter aboard an enemy capital ship.

Kayven’s heart worked so forcefully he had nearly convinced himself it was about to smash clean through his chest. The woman, Ak’vel, was marching him down a series of deep blue, metal corridors, his naked feet shuffling to keep up with the large creature on the surprisingly warm deck.

She didn’t speak a word as they walked, just grabbing the back of his neck with one enormous hand, but the question she had asked still echoed in his head, and was most of the reason why his heart was hammering.

Have you been fucked in the ass before?

He shuddered at the mental images that question conjured, imagining having his behind brutally broken into by this brute; it was all he could do to keep moving.

After turning a few corners and descending to the deck below, Ak’vel stopped near a black-plated door with some kind of scanner mounted on the wall. She placed her free hand on it, and the door slid open, vanishing into the wall.

Pushing Kayven in in front of her, the door slid shut behind them, revealing to the human a fairly large, square room, spacious yet with several machines and items around, the purpose of which was not entirely clear to him. The walls, like the odd machinery and furniture – if that was what they were – were a dull pink in colour, the deck and ceiling purple, looking like you could see through them if there was anything to see beyond. A viewport showed the starry blackness of space at the far wall. However, it was not the interior décor Kayven’s big eyes were currently seeing.

Lying with her torso on a thing made of the same undefinable red-stuff Kayven had been restrained to in the other chamber, a woman was held in place. Her legs were spread wide, the ankles grabbed by similar, red protrusions seeming to rise through the deck, holding them fast. Her arms stretched out in front of her, and her hands, closed in front of her head, were similarly restrained.

She was completely naked. Pinkish, soft-looking skin with marks other shades of pink all over her body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, a ponytail of red hair hanging down off her left shoulder. Golden eyes regarded the newcomers, betraying no emotion, but Kayven thought he could see a glimmer of something in them.

Pity? Pity for him? For herself?

She was the first alien Kayven had seen that didn’t dwarf him in stature. She was lithe, perhaps just shorter than him, but still it was her huge, heavy breasts dangling under her that seized his attention, despite him trying not to look at them.

A big, black ball was secured in her mouth between ice-blue lips, and Kayven noted a tattoo between her brows that looked like a miniature representation of the slim, metal plates on Ak’vel that ran from her brow to the tip of her nose.

In front of the pink woman – whom Kayven would describe as exotically beautiful – a series of red tentacles, looking like a mixture of flesh and metal like the ones that had worked on poor Tara, rose from the floor. At their approach, the tentacles snared Kayven’s arms and legs, spreading them apart and leaving him in a humiliating position with his legs spread, pelvis pressed forward, presenting his cock, back reclined and head kept forward so he could watch the woman.

“This is Rhai, slave,” Ak’vel informed, standing behind Kayven, hands on his shoulders, massaging them with the pent-up lust of what she would soon do to him. “She is a Hynger, but more importantly, she is the only slave aboard the Goddess’ Hand that isn’t Kyrah’s. That is because Rhai is my slave. My personal toy. And a fine slave she is. She is going to show you how to get fucked in the ass.”

Ak’vel’s hands slid down Kayven’s exposed chest, feeling him up all over. She purred when next she spoke. “Isn’t she lovely? She is so beautiful I can hardly stop fucking her all hours of the day. The Hynger are the most beautiful women in the galaxy, and they make such fine slaves.”

“Rhai.” The Hynger’s eyes snapped up to meet Ak’vel’s dark orbs. “This is Kayven, mistress Kyrah’s new milk-stud. We will be training him for the rest of the day.”

Rhai had understood as soon as she had seen the manhood between the newcomer’s legs who he was. There was only ever one male aboard the Goddess’ Hand, the one mistress Kyrah chose to milk for her insatiable addiction to semen. Rhai pitied the male, for she knew what he would be forced to go through. And she knew she would be forced to make him go through a lot of it as well. Being Ak’vel’s slave was not just simply being a fucktoy – however that was the primary job-description – it was also being an assistant to Ak’vel’s sadistic training sessions.

Ak’vel walked around Kayven, around Rhai, one greedy hand grabbing onto one of her perfect ass-cheeks. Rhai made no reaction.

“Shall we start the lesson?” Ak’vel snickered. As though reading the Shix’s mind, a pink, semi-translucent dildo came floating from one of the storage units lining the walls. It was huge, three straps attached to its base, but there was a large hook protruding from the opposite end of the bulbous head of the dildo.

As the unnecessarily large pseudo-manhood drifted closer to Ak’vel, she tossed aside her panties, revealing her smooth womanhood, and tossing aside the plates of armour that contained her breasts. Even within the armour they had appeared huge, but when sprung free, they were huger still. Massive mammary mounds, dark purple nipples already hard and eager.

When it came to her, Ak’vel shoved the hooked end of the dildo inside her own pussy, tightening the straps over her hips and between her large, firm ass-cheeks. The dildo now stood long and proud between her legs. Ak’vel produced a bottle of lubrication and poured a generous amount over the shaft, drizzling the remaining content of the bottle in the crack of Rhai’s ass.

“Pay close attention, little boy,” Ak’vel tossed the empty bottle of lube aside, one giant hand seizing one of Rhai’s buttocks, pulling it aside, the other seizing the hilt of her slathered dildo. “I’m doing this to you next.”

Staring in horror, yet unable to look away, Kayven witnessed the huge, rounded end of the dildo push between the pink-skinned woman’s ass cheeks, slowly starting to sink into her. The girl, Rhai, seemed oddly calm, but the way she bit her gag – and when her eyes started to clench shut – told the human everything he needed to know about just what it felt like to be penetrated by such a big thing.

He cold-sweated just imagining it forcing its way inside of him.

When Ak’vel had sunk the full length of her dildo into her slave, the other hand clutched Rhai’s other buttock, rubbing the delicious, firm flesh in her hands as she started bucking her hips, ass-raping her little toy.

Tears were already poking from Rhai’s golden eyes, and Ak’vel was still going slow, putting on a show for the boy, tormenting him with what was to come. There was little pain involved in the actual act of being anally penetrated for her. She was used to it. However, her body still reacted to the forced entry, and she was quite aware that AK’vel delighted in seeing her tears.

Ak’vel had indeed noticed the Hynger’s delightful tears. One hand still feeling up the slave’s ass, the other grabbed the base of her ponytail, yanking her face up.

“Look at the boy, slave,” Ak’vel grunted, the end of the dildo inside of her vibrating and stroking her g-spot wondrously with every thrust into Rhai’s tight ass.

Rhai knew better than not to obey, so she caught the human’s eyes, forcing herself not to close them every time the Shix thrust deep inside her. She had never seen a human before, but decided that the boy looked rather handsome – his obvious terror at the current situation aside – and felt sorry for him for having been captured. She knew, as the ship’s only male, he would get little rest.

Kayven’s eyes found Rhai’s, her head bobbing forward a little every time the slave-trainer pushed herself against her. He thought he saw in those eyes a type of kindness, something he could not quite put his finger on, but he understood that he was looking at a woman who had lived as a slave for a long time and had come to accept her fate. He also saw sympathy in them, knowing now it was for him, for being forced to watch, awaiting his turn.

Ak’vel turned her terrible gaze at him, still bucking her hips at an easy tempo. “Look at Rhai, boy. Look at this delicious, young thing, and picture being in her place. Picture being restrained just as helplessly, your legs spread wide and your ass in the air, while I fuck your virgin ass.”

The slave-trained released an ominous, throaty laugh, biting her lip. “I can’t wait to take your virginity.”

Spurred on by her own words and the fantastic look of fright on the human, Ak’vel increased her pacing, forcing the lubed-up toy-cock faster and deeper into Rhia. She needed to remind herself that she should get started working the boy soon, but she could not help herself from fucking Rhai – she did it whenever she had the time. She promised herself she was just going to fuck that sweet, tight ass until she came once, then swap her and the boy around so she could get to work.

Rhai’s heavy, dangling breasts swung beneath her with the motions of her lithe body being fucked harder, faster, by the giant Shix. The sheer size of Ak’vel alone was enough of a reminder to Rhai that she was helpless. Ak’vel didn’t need to restrain Rhai to do as she pleased, for she was strong enough and large enough to ensure whatever Rhai could do to resist would be like an insect trying to break glass.

But, as she was well aware, the slave-owners of the Thelluloid Empire preferred having their slaves restrained at all times, no matter the occasion. This was, they said, to prove to the slaves that their lives and bodies were no longer their own, that they would forever be controlled.

Rhai had been a gift to Ak’vel from her new employer as a formal thank you for being the new slave-trainer of the Goddess’ Hand. Back then she was not yet out of her late teens, and sold – by the minority of her own people that were not slaves – to Kyrah, who had given the contract and the girl to Ak’vel. She had still been a virgin, but that had not lasted five minutes after her new owner had formally taken ownership of her.

She remembered that night vividly, how her gagged screams had echoed throughout Ak’vel’s personal cabin, how all of her holes were fucked raw by this giant of a woman and how she had been bound and helpless, unable to do anything about anything except get raped in virtually every way possible.

That had been a long time ago. Hynger remained young for very long, far longer than what was considered young for the Ar’a and Shix, but that was just another curse for a Hynger sold to slavery, for it meant she would be desirable for her looks for far longer than most other slaves.

Ak’vel took great pleasure in reminding Rhai that, when she became too old for her, in five or six-hundred years, she would tear up the contract and let her go. That was such a long time Rhai could not even conceive of it.

So no matter what she felt, she needed to be used to staying as he was now, a helpless sex-toy for the brute who currently huffed and puffed behind her, shoving that big cock deep inside her ass.

Ak’vel had, on no conscious level, started fucking her pretty slave even faster. A sheet of what looked like glowing, purple glass rose from the floor next to Rhai. Ak’vel slung one clawed foot over Rhai’s thigh and placed it on the sheet when it had rose high enough, allowing her to lean over her slave and fuck her even deeper with more leverage.

Grunting, feeling herself approach a rapid orgasm – especially when she coaxed a few gagged moans from her slave – Ak’vel leaned forward even more, resting an arm on part of the restraints holding Rhai’s arms in front of her. Towering over the Hynger, delighting in those sweet, submissive moans, sweat starting to coat both of their fit bodies, Ak’vel gave into the sweet pleasure, releasing herself to rapture.

Descending from the orgasmic peak, Ak’vel gave a final, deep thrust into Rhai, being rewarded with yet another groan. Breathing through the open mouth, feeling sufficiently warmed up for the rest of what promised to be a long, fun evening, she fixed her gaze on the human again.

He was reclined in the restraining tentacles, transfixed by what he had just witnessed, and when he noticed Ak’vel’s stare, his breathing quickened even more, his body starting to quiver in the restraints.

She rose, the dildo sliding out of Rhai’s ravaged ass, straightening to full height. She licked her lips, then said, “Oh yes, my boy, your turn has finally come.”