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A Spy from Kiran
by Sean Malone
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© Copyright 2009 - Sean Malone - Used by permission
Storycodes: M+/f; bond; bdsm; mc; cond; piercing; scifi; slaves; susp; toys; cons/nc; X
jpn
A Spy from Kiran Sean Malone M+/f; bond; bdsm; mc; cond; piercing; scifi; slaves; susp; toys; cons/nc; X

Published in Pleasure Bound magazine in two parts. All rights reserved.

Part 1

The trolley moved steadily up the mountain, almost silent on its rubber wheels. A stout clamp around her waist secured its reluctant prisoner to her seat. Amanda's neck was confined in a rigid brace, hinged to control the movement of her head, with attachments for her wrists on either side. She wore only a pair of highly polished black leather boots that reached almost to her hips. The soft leather clung to her shapely legs, which were parted wide by ropes clipped to heavy steel rings on the ankle bands concealed under the soft leather of her boots. There was nothing delicate about the exposure of her sex. The soft folds of her inner flesh were dressed only in their natural covering of wispy blonde hair.

The luscious curves of her breasts were a tempting offering. Her pierced nipple-buds bore a pair of pliant, luminescent loops. The shiny plastic was light, comfortable and practically indestructible, the slender loops tilted upwards as if defying gravity. They were a popular alternative to the traditional gold slave rings. A thicker, but otherwise similar ring emerged between her thighs, looping over and down into the soft fleshy ridge above the tender source of her sweetness. That same glistening morsel peeped like the shy head of a snail from its shell, signalling her arousal, while the swollen, moist rim of her vulva offered glimpses of her soft inner pinkness.

The smooth bare curves of her bottom cheeks showed the reddening marks of her recent punishment, and she squirmed with the memory of its sting. The whip had cut mercilessly across her tender cheeks, enveloping and curling into every tender part of her soft young body until she writhed under its hot pitiless caress.

It was a cruel world, and Amanda had no illusions about her fate. She had risked much and lost, a pretty spy caught in the very act of communicating her discoveries to the Federal Fleet investigators who had sent her on this dangerous mission to Jolan II. Now she expected to die in a display of cruelty that would serve to bring pleasure to those jaded appetites. Far from deterring any future mission of this kind, she was sure that the federal authorities would redouble their efforts, once they discovered her fate. Amanda had little confidence in their chances of success. The slave training regime was a good defence. Amanda had learned to her cost how it could weaken the resolve of even the best trained agent. The only way to penetrate Jolan II was to pose as a recruit, or 'Pleasure Guest', who came for the excitement and pleasure, as well as the generous pay. It was a dangerous game, as Amanda had discovered. Jolan's Pleasure Guests were kept under strict control and observation from the moment they arrived, and their preparation began even before that.

It was hardly surprising that Jolan's exclusive control over the galactic pleasure market had been unchallenged. Its unlimited supply of precious metals, jewels, and its thriving but exclusive pleasure services had made Jolan II one of the most powerful planets in known space, with a large fleet of Jolan registered freight and passenger ships. It was now the colonies that controlled interstellar travel, unlike the days when they had depended on Earth's limited resources.

All Pleasure Guests had to complete their 'Role Training' Course on Jolan II before commencing their duties in the Pleasure Zone. On completing the training they would act as slaves, whose duties would involve pleasing the thousands of wealthy visitors, who flocked to Jolan II for sexual gratification, whenever they could afford it. It was not only the wealthy who came to Jolan II. The Planet depended on the discretion and cooperation of spacers, who were given special privileges in the Pleasure Zone. Without their willing collaboration it would be impossible to maintain a discrete recruitment service.

There were many ways to recruit new young slaves. The Jolan Agent on Lacter advertised for models, hostesses and entertainers and also arranged talent-spotting competitions. From time to time a girl like Amanda would just walk in to the office and ask for a job. There was a healthy supply of young, pretty and compliant recruits to meet the ever increasing demand for female pleasure slaves on Jolan II.

Most of the girls knew of Jolan's reputation as a wild planet of pleasure where anything and everything was possible, but they seldom imagined correctly what their own role might be, or their value as a very necessary raw material for Jolan's pleasure business. They were excited at the idea of new experiences, and adventures in pleasure that would certainly be forbidden on their home planets.

Few girls asked prying questions about their duties, knowing that the competition for places was fierce. In fact, a Jolan Agent would quickly reject the troublesome type who revealed herself to be over-inquisitive. Most girls knew better than to show their feelings even if they did suspect that there might be a hidden agenda behind all of this. Why were piercings so essential? A girl's imagination could suggest answers, but that only excited her curiosity even more.

There had been few official attempts to investigate the Jolan II recruitment business, even though most of the girls were never seen again on their planet of origin. None had ever accused their former captors of any crimes, and officials had even been invited to visit Jolan. Once they discovered the variety of sexual services available in the Pleasure Zone, provided by willing, and seemingly happy and enthusiastic slaves, they were easily convinced. It took little time to discover their personal weaknesses. The resulting holovid images of officials engaged in deviant sexual activities were often useful as a reminder of the need for discretion, on both sides. Needless to say, officials returned keen to confirm their approval of this most legitimate of interplanetary enterprises.

There was little fear of the revelations of a mere Pleasure Slave as who would believe the wild stories she might want to tell? In any case, girls who were allowed to return home were given a generous pension, and closely watched for any signs of indiscretion. Jolan II had extradition treaties with most planets specifically covering any breach of confidentiality on the part of a former employee, but this had never been required. The threat of an ignominious return for a trial on Jolan II, and a sentence to the most degrading duties in the Pleasure Zone, had always sufficed to keep mouths tightly shut. All that was heard were bland expressions of a pleasant life on the Pleasure Planet, and enthusiastic testimonials to groups of young girls applying through the various recruitment programmes.

After several days of wild, passionate love with a young Navy boy officer, he had quietly asked her to consider a special assignment, one that would require all of her special talents. At first she had been angry that he would consider surrendering his love for the good of the Service, but when he had explained, she had reconsidered. She was needed to infiltrate the Pleasure Zone on Jolan II, as an agent working undercover. It would be difficult and dangerous, with little possibility of any local support. Several previous attempts had gone wrong, and now they had decided to use someone unknown in the usual intelligence circles. If she agreed, she would be trained specially for the assignment, psychologically and physically. To her surprise Amanda found herself agreeing to everything, her heart pounding with excitement. The training that followed had been hard but interesting and the time soon came for her to undertake the next phase of her undercover mission, on the planet Lacter.

It had not been hard to disguise her application. She had replied to an advertisement which appeared in a computer service on Lacter, for attractive young hostesses to work in a 'planetary resort area'. The interview had presented no problems, and her papers had received far less attention than she had expected. Her contract would be for three years, with an optional extension. A nude examination brought complimentary remarks on her figure, and she suspected that someone was going to earn a juicy bonus. They told her to report back in two days time, and offered to store any personal effects for her, since personal effects were not allowed on the journey. After the detailed medical examination, she would remain as a guest until her departure in a few weeks time, on a fast passenger cruiser. In the meantime, she would be on full pay, in first class transit accommodation. Any cosmetics she wanted would be provided free, and any other personal needs would be met, for the duration of her contract.

Amanda had spent the following two days packing her few personal effects, ready to leave them with a friend. She had kept her medical appointment at the Jolan Agency building. The medical had introduced some unexpected complications. After she had stripped naked, she had been led by an attendant to a serious looking examination couch. She had expected to undergo an intimate examination, but the fixtures attached to this particular couch seemed excessively business-like for a mere medical examination. Obediently she allowed the pleasant young doctor to position her limbs, and one by one the straps and clamps were fastened until she was completely immobilised. There was a broad band over her waist, steel clamps fixed her neck and wrists, and finally her ankles were clamped high and apart to vertical bars beside the couch. She could barely twitch while he inspected and probed her intimate parts with a firm, confident touch.

After his examination the doctor had just grinned as he wheeled a surgical trolley to her couch, and started to arouse her with expert hands. She felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable as her excitement grew, but she was helpless to evade his masterful fingers. He seemed indifferent to her gasps and struggles as she grew more aroused. She felt the sting of antiseptic, then the sharp pain as his instruments passed cleanly through her nipples, and the soft fleshy ridge of her clitoris. She wriggled ineffectually as he inserted sleepers, soft plastic inserts that would stretch her piercings while they healed.

Amanda was left convulsing with a mixture of pain and excitement, while her fragmented thoughts turned to the possible reasons for the piercing of her tender body. It must be a routine procedure for all of the girls destined for the Pleasure Planet. His indifference to her sensitivity had made her feel unaccountably excited, while he prepared her for the rings that would surely be inserted later. Was this just a fashion, Amanda asked herself? Somehow it seemed to mean more than that, but the obvious implication did not seem possible.

Suddenly it occurred to her that someone in the Service must have visited the Pleasure Planet. After all, vacations on Jolan II were advertised all over known space. Why recruit a female agent, when it was so easy to send a man who could come and go as he pleased? This was more than curious, and for the first time Amanda wondered if she was being set up. Whatever lay behind all of this, she was sure that she would find out from her own personal experience. It was far too late to back out now. But her thoughts were interrupted by the quick movements of the doctor, who had returned to unfasten her bonds. He told her not to interfere with her piercings while they healed, and showed her how to use a small cream applicator pump. It snapped into a socket in each sleeper, and squeezed cream into the piercing.

New clothes were prepared for her, a comfortable blue jump-suit, with underwear to match. She dressed quickly, and her escort arrived to take her to the guest accommodation, where she was told to avoid any mention of her piercings, and not to let another guest see them. If she had any problems she could report back to the medical centre. There would be a weekly medical inspection, to see how well healing was progressing. In the meantime she could just relax. Relax! Amanda was still twitching as she arrived at the guest house.

For the first two nights she was visited when she was ready for bed, and her hands were fixed in comfortable padded cuffs behind her back, to keep her fingers from her tender, itchy piercings while she slept. It was a tormenting two days, but the discomfort dulled until she almost forgot how bad it had been and after that she hardly felt the lightweight sleepers. The cream was soothing, each application cooling the burn deep in her sensitive flesh.

During the day Amanda joined five other girls for lessons in the arts of makeup and massage, deportment and sexual anatomy, dress and materials, and a host of other subjects essential for the successful hostess. The well-equipped salon was attended by a series of experts in design, clothing and all of the other subjects they had to learn. Amanda began to enjoy the lively atmosphere, and the company.

By the time she returned for the last checkup, her piercings were well healed, and the doctor pronounced her fit to travel on the next cruiser to Jolan. Before she dressed they told her to step into a fitting chamber. They gave her shades to protect her eyes from the laser beam. She had to adopt a series of positions while every curve and fold of her body was registered on the computer. Some positions she had to adopt seemed more immodest than was strictly necessary.

Two days later the time came for departure. Amanda was refreshed after her stay in the comfortable guest centre, and felt excited as she donned the flight suit prepared for her. Her pass was ready, the formalities were quickly completed and she boarded the shuttle where she found all five of her pretty companions, each wearing a similar smooth plastic figure-hugging jump suit, all excited at the prospect of their first interstellar space trip.

The journey up to the orbiting G-Ship was soon completed, but there was little chance for conversation during the ride. On the approach to the interstellar transit, Amanda enjoyed the view of the torus-shaped vessel. The shuttle docked in the central hub, and the passenger capsule moved slowly along rails, through the docking port and into the main ship, while a replacement empty capsule moved back into the shuttle. They were being unloaded, like a luggage capsule from a road-transit. It took only minutes for the capsule to arrive in the outer ring of the torus, and already it was picking up a comfortable level of transit gravity. Finally they were unclipped from their safety couches, and the girls followed the guide across to the Purser's office, where each was given a key to a cabin, in return for her identity document.

After the briefing they had remembered to walk with slow, careful and light steps in the quarter-standard gravity of the interstellar ship. It was easy to bounce, for a person accustomed to the surface gravity of her home planet. Their cabins were close together on the ship, but the girls were ushered into a large saloon where they were prepared for departure. Attendants strapped each girl into her seat, ready for the sudden disorientation that always accompanied the beginning of a journey by G-Ship. The screen showed a retrospect of Lacter, and Amanda wondered if she would ever see it again. There were memories, good memories of the short time she had spent there.

Barely a year ago, shortly after her eighteenth birthday, she had shipped out from Kiran on an inconspicuous federal auxiliary, which transported low grade cargo and a few supernumeraries. These were mainly federal contract employees on leave entitlement. The journey had been uneventful, apart from being confined to her cabin to keep her identity from the other passengers. The landing had been rather exciting. The shuttle had requested permission to carry out a trial atmosphere burn, and deviated from the regular flight path for long enough to eject her in a tiny, and virtually undetectable glider. An agent had assisted her in the destruction of the glider after it had landed under automatic control, and then the delicate construction of her new identity had begun, with no further contact from Kiran.

The farmers on Lacter were notoriously independent, and religious communities were left alone by the authorities, so long as they kept their people out of trouble. It suited the Jolan Agent to recruit on Lacter, where there were few records, and it was hard to prove that anyone had gone missing. The Federal Authorities turned a blind eye, as from time to time Lacter provided an escape route into obscurity, for someone who had attracted a little too much attention during a career of interstellar undercover work.

Amanda had lived in a small up-country community on Lacter, where she had learned something of the local jargon and customs. They had given her work, field work with a botanical researcher. After months of this, she knew more about the local plant life on Lacter than any city dweller, and most farmers. She had also learned that religious communities were not the forbidden planet where sex was concerned. A healthy young woman, she had enjoyed the fuss and attention of many attractive boys, but she had kept a special place in her heart for her young navy officer. These boys took their pleasure without much consideration for her enjoyment. They were nice boys, and made her feel warm and welcome in their quiet community. She had livened up their rather limited sexual repertoire, and they would remember her with a smile or two. Those were innocent days, full of life and fun, but only too soon it had been time to move on to Lacter City. After arriving in the city, Amanda had worked as a librarian until she had been accepted in the small suburban community. Then she had applied to the Jolan agent as an innocent recruit, and it was not long before she was on a Jolan star ship, strapped in for departure.

The takeoff was barely perceptible, a bump followed by a steadily increasing pressure of gravity, and then the nauseous lightness that marked their transition into dark space. It seemed as though hours had passed before the girls were unstrapped and allowed to settle in to their cabins. Meanwhile the cylindrical sections of accommodation had rotated within the torus, responding to the change in the ship's gravity field. When they had arrived from the shuttle, they had felt gravity growing stronger as the descended from the ship's hub to its outer torus. Every part of the torus had been down from the hub. Now the torus was flat in the gravity field, and the hub was at the same level as the circular tube which surrounded it. Each segment of the accommodation section had rotated into its new position, so smoothly that it would not even disturb a sleeping crew-member.

After they had settled in to the luxurious accommodation, a guide arrived to escort them all on a tour of the ship. First they found the holovid centre, between the accommodation and the dining centre. The cooks could provide any of the more common diets, and there were plenty of unusual vegetables from the lush forests of Jolan III. On the other side of the dining centre there were leisure facilities, a sauna, enclosed swimming tanks and a holovid reading library.

There was even a null-grav gymnasium in the hub section, reached by a transport module, for use during planetary orbit. It was well equipped. The guide pointed out the long, elastic safety cords used to secure the gymnasts during exercise periods. Amanda wondered what it would be like to jump, dive and tumble in null-grav, on the end of a long elastic bungee cord. After the tour they were allowed to relax, for the remainder of their first day in dark space.

During the next day, each of the girls was escorted to the sick bay, one by one. Amanda was clamped tightly to a table, while each of her sleepers was replaced by a ring of a soft flexible plastic, about two fingers-width in diameter. Amanda gazed wide-eyed at the loops that now jutted proudly from her stiffened nipples, feeling an exciting sensation growing into a buzz of pleasure. The medic slowly lifted a long rod, and in that curious position she had no idea what he intended to do with it. As he approached her, Amanda saw that it was tipped with a flexible, hooked extension. He twisted the hook, deftly capturing one of her nipple rings, and gave it a gentle tug. She gasped as a climax hit her like a train. It felt crazy, but wonderful as he hooked her loops in turn, stretching her flesh with a purposeful movement. The soft loops seemed a part of her flesh, as if they had grown from within her body. Each tug brought a new buzz of pleasure, and she wriggled with enjoyment as he played with her.

At last he released the clamps and Amanda rose unsteadily to her feet, twitching at the smallest movement of those wicked loops. He reached out with the rod, slickly inserting its hook into her pussy ring again. She watched with an erotic fascination as he took her, too excited to think of evasion. But at last he let her dress.

The loops felt so comfortable, that at times Amanda would forget their presence, but each innocent lapse would be short-lived. A tiny movement might brush her nipple rings against her clothing, and then the heat would begin to grow. The sight of a muscular young crew member or the feel of his grip would start a prickle inside her, a stiffening of her flesh, thrusting her loops against the confinement of her clothing. It was like having three antennae searching, then amplifying each touch into a concentrated thrill of pleasure.

When the sensations grew stronger, she could barely walk. It was difficult to conceal the rising tide of pleasure within her, which caused great amusement amongst the crew, judging by their grins and appraising looks. The other girls enjoyed talking, especially about the more attractive members of the crew. It was hard not to enjoy the appreciation of those muscular men. She might even need a friend of that kind, before all this was over.

The voyage had gone quickly, and after only a few days they were approaching the Jolan System. One by one the girls were prepared for landing. This was the point when a girl might feel some misgivings, especially when the protection of her coverall was replaced by a set of straps and bands, and a short skirt that barely covered her hips. It was quite a bizarre looking outfit, but they were told that this was quite normal on Jolan II. Amanda felt very odd walking about the ship almost naked, with those loops temptingly accessible, thrusting from her engorged nipples and the tingling ridge of her clitoris. It made her feel like a naked offering, especially after her experience with the medic and his hook-tipped rod, but the crew were too busy with their preparations for docking to pay much attention to Amanda and her companions. They were led back to the lounge and strapped in to its comfortable reclining couches. They watched Jolan II grow big on the screen as the ship settled smoothly into its orbit. Then the shuttle appeared, moving carefully in to the docking port.

Everything had happened very quickly after that. The shuttle trip had been uneventful, its landing smooth at the spaceport. Amanda had felt very self-conscious as she was escorted from the shuttle and hurried through the formalities. She was not left alone for even a moment. A male escort had arrived to take her to her quarters. He was big and muscular, a lovely hunk of a man. Effortlessly rotating her in front of him, he had quickly secured her wrists to her belt behind, and then clipped his leash to the loop that hung between her thighs. She had climaxed immediately she had felt the first gentle tug of the leash, much to her embarrassment. That had not concerned her captor, who had seen it all before. Ignoring her wriggling and gasping protests, he tugged more firmly until she began to follow him obediently towards the city. His leash was long and flexible, but not uncomfortable, once she learned not to fight its control. A girl was fortunate in having such a capacity for pleasure, Amanda thought. Her first experience of slavery had been an exciting one.

But the training that had followed had been hard, especially for a woman who came from the ruling classes on Kiran VI. She had never known the feel of a leash, or the position of a servant. It was curious that she had been chosen for the role of a spy, but perhaps they had expected her to be immune to the subtle psychology of being trained as a sexual slave. They had been wrong. Nobody could know how they would feel or behave after a long period of continuous and intensive overload of their sexual circuits. Amanda had grown with the experience, discovering the secret pleasures of submission, and enjoying the feeling of dependence on her masterful escort. A few short weeks on the Pleasure Planet had succeeded in confusing her feelings about sexual domination and slavery, loyalty and obedience.

Her thoughts went to the arena where she had been taught to enjoy her role as a slave. She remembered how the girls had been made to run around the arena, naked, with their wrists cuffed to their necks and encouraged by the accurate flick of a master's whip across their bare bottom cheeks. The more Amanda ran, the more juicy she had felt between her thighs. And then there were the dildo poles, a ring of bulbous cock-shaped heads, glistening with lubricant. She had always struggled as she was lifted onto her dildo pole. The tip would press up into the soft depression of her slippery entrance, but she would resist its penetration. The pressure would grow until she was up on her toes and hardly able to move, clenching her muscles desperately.

She remembered the first time she had felt her master's knowing fingers at her rings, tugging to set her off into spasms of pleasure while the dildo slid smoothly up into her body. She felt her muscles relax instinctively. In a moment the tip was securely lodged in her vulva, and she felt the shaft sliding smoothly up into her. Another time she was struggling to keep her muscles clenched against the tip of the dildo pole when his lash had flicked unexpectedly across her cheeks. The fiery pain brought an instinctive contraction and before she could control her spasms the dildo was firmly lodged in her soft juicy entrance. At first she had cursed her weakness, but gradually she realised that her own physiology was the great betrayer. It was exciting to resist and struggle, but she had learned to enjoy those brief but intense moments when her body yielded instinctively to her master's skilful control.

Once the girls were mounted on those dildos they were helpless to evade the punishment that inevitably followed. They squirmed on the thrusting perches, while lashes teased their bottoms and curled into their hot little clefts. There would be no mercy until each girl was wriggling wildly, gasping and begging for relief.

It was incredibly exciting to discover instincts, ideas and feelings, desires and wicked pleasures that she had never in her dreams imagined could be real. The weirdest discovery had been that she actually enjoyed losing, in those games of escape and captivity. It was a wild feeling to be captured by a masterful male and used for his pleasure. It was better than any of her youthful fantasies, and she loved the way he had used her body rings to tame her.

Aldon had been trained all his life to become an Escort, to train the slaves, or 'Pleasure Guests' as they were known off planet, that arrived almost daily on Jolan II. It was an honourable profession, requiring abilities that few possessed. An Escort required above all self control, as untrained slaves could be provocative and unruly at the best of times. They would try to deceive, threaten or bribe, but he would have to ignore any such pleadings with an iron will, and a determination to display the masterly control over her body that she would eventually learn to crave. Excessive violent behaviour brought only a deep resistance to conditioning. A slave who had been treated with vicious cruelty could never be trusted. Pain, like pleasure had to be measured. It took a great deal of patience, and acting ability to succeed with a girl in a short space of time. The most difficult part for many Escorts was to conceal their personal feelings for the slave who was their constant companion for a period of weeks, during which she would learn to worship him as her Master. Any open display of affection would undermine the relationship that had to be defined so exactly, that of Master and slave. There were no exceptions.

Amanda had proved a hesitant, but intelligent charge. She seemed to enjoy bondage, and Aldon had noticed her excitement when he made her wait in her room, restrained by a long leash clipped casually to one or other of her body loops. It was the usual way to keep a slave under control when her Escort was absent. Each room was fitted with a series of cords on self-winding reels, ready to attach to any part of a slave's costume. But he preferred to use the loops, as it would teach her more quickly to know her sensitivity, and discover her helpless dependence on him. So far her progress had pleased him, and she had begun to quiver with excitement, betraying her need as he approached her with a hook or a shackle.

Amanda had discovered pleasures that surprised and excited her. She had discovered the curious freedom to be found in submission, a freedom from the inhibitions to which she had become accustomed on Kiran. She had learned to endure the seeming severity of the most advanced punishments, and she obeyed Aldon without question. She was becoming ever more dependent on his unexpected ways of satisfying her increasingly bizarre appetites. One time he might leave her alone, knowing that she was aroused and wanted sex. Another time he might appear unexpectedly in the middle of the night, and demand her obedience in some scene of pain or pleasure. He let her know that it was his will, not hers that she would have to learn to obey.

Her days were an unending sequence of games, and as she grew more cooperative she was allowed to enjoy new experiences. One had been called the 'spider's web'. This was a very large vertical frame, more than twice Aldon's height. It had long elastic cords attached to each corner, with a large dildo-pole reaching up to its centre. First he made sure she was juicy, and then he suspended her from the elastics, so she was stretched in the centre of the frame, feeling stuffed to the gills with that wicked dildo right up inside her. The elastics allowed her quite a lot of movement, but she soon found the secret of the web. Any movement would start her oscillating, and the dildo would begin working away like a tunnelling machine.

Aldon was always glad to help out, and just in case she seemed to have lost the energy to keep it going, he would encourage her with a few tactically placed strokes of the whip across her bare bottom. He would torment her just enough to let her know that he was in command and a single flick into the sulcus was often enough to set her off again. Then he would just watch lazily, grinning at the sight of her gasping and wriggling while she screwed herself silly on the dildo. She suspected that he was just too lazy to screw her himself, but he usually made up for it later. Sometimes he left her on the web for hours, exhausting her with that interminable cycle of pleasure.

She had almost forgotten the original purpose of her presence on Jolan II, until that fateful day when he had relaxed his vigilance. After pleasuring her, he had fallen into a deep contented sleep, failing to lock her pussy ring to the long slender line that emerged from the steel column in the centre of her quarters. He had not even bound her wrists, or shackled an accessible ankle. It was her first chance to attempt communication with her spy masters in the Federal Fleet, one she could not afford to miss. Somehow she had to get out of this crazy place before she surrendered her will completely. The only way was to make contact. She had not dared to get dressed, as Aldon might have awakened at the slightest rustle of her clothing.

It felt unnatural to be alone in the corridors of the underground city. It was not the nudity; she was used to that. The unaccustomed freedom was a very strange feeling, almost a guilty one. Her master would be angry once he discovered her absence, she reflected, amazed at herself for having such a thought, and at the realisation that she was beginning to care for him in a very serious way. They would never believe this, back at the Academy on Kiran, she thought.

She had crept quietly from her quarters, using the silent skills she had learned during her former days of training in the service of the Fleet. There had not been time to complete her mission. Alarms had sounded and she had run for her life, hiding as groups of guards passed her, slipping away through the maze of open corridors once it was safe. She caught glimpses of guards, each armed with a familiar long pole, with its flexible rubber-hooked tip. She was suddenly conscious of her naked exposure to those rods that were specially made to control a girl slave. The sight of them was enough to start her tingling inside. Distracted for a moment, she lingered too long in the open, and a guard spotted her. She raced down a connecting passage, but they had the advantage, now that she had been seen. Her arousal was slowing her down, but it could not be helped.

She turned a corner to find herself running straight into a group of guards, with more chasing her from behind. Panting with fear and excitement, she shivered as fire slashed under the delicate cheeks of her bottom, her hands instinctively going back to protect herself for a moment. Too late she realised that she had left herself open, as another guard reached between her thighs with a swift expert movement of his hook into her juicy crevice. She gasped at the feel of it slipping between her lips, with a cheeky caress, to find her pussy loop. She squirmed at the delicious sliding sensation as he lifted her loop. The pleasure was distracting, and a purposeful tug snapped the closure shut with an intimate finality. None of her arts could help her now. The catch was at the far end of the pole, impossible for a hooked slave to reach, and she could never run with that fixture attached to her loop. There was no question of escape, or even passive resistance, but the sensation was more exciting than uncomfortable, and the flexible rubber would soften their harsh tugs of command. She waited helplessly while the other guards approached.

Powerful hands brought her wrists together behind her back. In a moment they were locked securely to her belt, and then she was quite helpless to defend herself. She could expect little mercy from these guards after making them look foolish. It was too late to regret her stupidity, much too late. Those sensual thoughts of capture had been a powerful distraction. The guards were not in a gentle mood, and a sharp tug of the hooked pole left her in no doubt of their anger.

Her efforts to avoid detection had lacked the determination that might have assured her freedom, in spite of her expert knowledge. It had been too much like those pleasure oriented games of evasion and capture that she had learned to play during her training as a slave, when punishment would inevitable follow capture, but pleasure would be the ultimate reward for her submission. She had learned to submit gladly, risking capture for the sexual excitement it would bring and putting the danger out of her mind. In that maze of corridors she might have escaped if she had really tried, but her capture had been inevitable, once she had allowed her pursuers to catch a glimpse of her by lingering just a little too long where she could so easily be seen. Deep down she knew that it had been quite unnecessary to take such a risk, however tempting the impulse.

The trial had been a foregone conclusion, an inexorable process of establishing guilt, and had succeeded in doing so in spite of the unexpected intercession of Aldon pleading for clemency. But clemency was not a serious option in the case of a spy caught in the act of interfering with interstellar communications equipment. Doubts were expressed about her identity: how would a simple farm girl from Lacter know how to operate such equipment? Amanda was questioned on her cover story, and agents were dispatched to investigate her background on Lacter, but there was nothing to connect her directly with the Federal Service. So the decision of the Court had been made and her sentence announced. The Mountain Run was notorious. Only the most desperate offenders were subjected to the perils of the Run, and she knew there were no return tickets.

The trolley carried Amanda steadily, up the mountain, while all of Jolan II watched her progress on the lifelike holovid projection. Her nipples stiffened, bearing loops that jutted proudly to expose her arousal, while she struggled unconvincingly against the mastery of her bonds. As her sex lips thickened, her third loop protruded temptingly from its anchorage in the fleshy ridge within her slit, and she felt extraordinarily vulnerable in her excited state. There would be no escape now, from the horrors that awaited her.

Part 2

The air grew cooler as Amanda drew closer to the ridge at the top of the rocky slope, her naked body fastened to the heavy trolley and exposed to the freshening breath of the mountain breeze. The trolley moved quietly, but its heavy chassis was designed for the carriage of heavy mineral ores, rather than the soft bodies of young girls that it transported regularly up the slope to the Mountain Run. It had been adapted for its present purpose by the addition of a smooth plastic seat mounted in the centre of a heavy steel frame. The frame was shaped and fitted with strong clamps and heavy straps, to secure its reluctant passengers during their short journey up the mountain.

Amanda's struggles made no impression on the smooth motion of the heavy trolley. Her black leather thigh-length boots bore ankle rings that were secured high and wide to part her thighs, every intimate fold of her tingling flesh thus made conveniently accessible for the intimate attentions of her tormentors, and exposed for the meticulous inspection of the millions of enthusiastic viewers who were sharing her ordeal on their holovid screens.

Her arms were lifted and stretched back to clamps on either side of the lightweight yoke around her neck. Her prettily rounded breasts were firm and proud. Her thrusting nipples bore two cheekily uptilted rings, betraying her state of arousal. The pair of soft, deceptively light luminescent loops was a familiar source of sexual excitement.

Between her outstretched thighs a similar loop projected from the fleshy ridge of her clitoris. This was no decorative embellishment, and she squirmed at the delicious sensations it conjured from that tender focus of her pleasure. It did not matter how often she was made a captive. Each time she was led through the city she would have to remain docile while her escort fastened his leash to that exciting loop. Usually her wrists would be bound, either behind her back or to her collar. The gentlest tug of his leash would remind her of the power of pleasure over will. Those exhausting journeys had taught her to respond without question to her Master's slightest command.

Months of such experiences had weakened her resistance to capture until the prospect had become almost an obsession. On that fateful day when she had attempted to communicate with her masters on Kiran, there had been a short chase before she was captured. She might have eluded the guards, but temptation had made her careless and she had lingered in an exposed intersection of tunnels until the guards had sighted her. In spite of her fear she had enjoyed the excitement of the chase. It had seemed like yet another of the pleasure games she had been made to play in the giant underground arena. She had felt a sweet tingling between her legs at the thought of imminent capture.

It had been a shock to turn a corner and find herself confronted by the guards, with more following her close behind. She had stopped abruptly, reminded of her vulnerability by a fiery slash across her bare bottom. When her hands had gone instinctively behind to protect her tender bottom, she had known what would inevitably follow. Her strength had dissolved when the guard had reached out with his long, rubber hook-tipped pole and lifted it expertly between her legs. She had frozen with horrified excitement while its tip had penetrated her juicy slit. She had felt the tingling sweetness of the deft intrusion between her lips. Instinctively she had tilted her hips up to welcome the intruder, helplessly seduced by the sweet stroking sensation. And then had come the inevitable click, as the hook sealed to her ring.

The Slave Catcher pole was a familiar sight on Jolan II, and every girl knew how it felt to become its helpless captive. It was a weapon that no ringed girl could resist. First its touch brought an instant distracting promise of sexual pleasure, then the guard had sealed it to her ring as the sweet fire had exploded through her.

Too late her struggles had become desperate as strong unseen hands gripped her arms, and pitilessly pressed her wrists together behind her back while strong cords joined them immovably together. Once her elbows had been tugged together and secured she was quite helpless. She was conscious of the inviting thrust of her defenceless breasts, knowing they were exposed to the tweaks and pinches of the guards. It had been a short journey, filled with confusing sensations, powerful emotions and heart stopping fear as she had contemplated the prospect of a show trial followed by the inevitable sentence.

The penalty for spying had not changed since the earliest days of recorded history. Amanda had been caught attempting unsuccessfully to communicate with her masters in the Federal Fleet. The outcome of the trial had been inevitable. She had been condemned to the Mountain Run. Her ordeal was undoubtedly choreographed to please the millions of holovid viewers who were already watching her on a live broadcast link. They were probably passing ribald comments on her intimately exposed body, she reflected ruefully. Her painful struggles would be just another entertainment for a quiet afternoon on Jolan II.

The three-dimensional holovision channels on Jolan II offered a variety of sexually oriented entertainment that appealed to the most unusual and varied appetites, whether live or recorded. Visitors had rooms fitted with all around sound, and a large holovision screen. It was no wonder that the guests often preferred to stay in their rooms and saturate themselves with continuous viewing. But still the live shows attracted a large audience of both residents and visitors.

Amanda remembered the long months on Lacter, where she had worked to create a new identity. Only when she had a solid background as a resident of Lacter, had she applied to be a hostess in a resort area on Jolan II. Then had come the medical. She remembered vividly how the smiling doctor had courteously indicated the elevated couch, and positioned her ready for that intimate examination. The straps had seemed unnecessary, until he had wheeled a surgical trolley close to her helpless body. She had responded quickly to his expert hands and before she could protest he had pierced her erected nipples, and the fleshy ridge of her clitoris. Soft, skin-coloured plastic sleepers had remained in her piercings until the long voyage to Jolan II.

The ship's medic had replaced those sleepers with curious plastic loops, and sealed them in place. The loops were light enough to protrude at all sorts of provocative angles, unlike heavy rings made from the many precious metals that proliferated on Jolan II. They were comfortably flexible, and their luminescent colours flowed like an artistic display that altered with heat and flexing. Amanda soon found that their light and comfortable softness was an illusion. The soft rings were virtually indestructible, as far as she could tell.

The voyage had passed quickly. Amanda remembered the preparations for the shuttle trip down to the spaceport on Jolan II. Her coverall had been removed. She had been fitted with a belt, choker, cuffs and anklets, and a provocatively short skirt. The straps snapped tight around her limbs, and there was no obvious way to remove them. Each was generously fitted with rings and other devices that seemed more business-like than decorative, but she felt quite comfortable in the bizarre costume. The surprise had come when the girls were escorted from the shuttle to the terminal. Amanda was not used to the feel of her body rings in planetary gravity. Her skirt lifted to expose the pretty under-curve of her bottom and the tantalising ring that moved with a will of its own, between her legs. Her nipple rings jiggled with a similar disregard for her sensitivity as she hurried forward, conscious of the admiring glances she was attracting, but oblivious of the true significance of the bizarre costume she was wearing.

Reality had come like a thunderclap, when Aldon had collected her at the terminal. He had spun her around like a toy. By the time she recovered from the surprise, her wrists were secured to the back of her belt. Casually he had clipped a leash to the loop between her legs, and the pleasure had suddenly blossomed until she had almost fainted. Gasping, she had staggered forward as he tugged her leash. It was hardly the kind of welcome she had expected. It had surprised her then, to experience such excitement as a helpless captive being led off to an unknown destiny. Now that she had become used to such treatment, that excitement had become mixed with other emotions, but each new experience of submission brought more dreams and fantasies. The game had become irresistible during the months of slave training that she had endured since her arrival on the Pleasure Planet. There had been lessons in the sexual arts. She had discovered her capacity for the surging sweetness of pleasure mingled with the fire of pain. She was no longer the young innocent who had been recruited into the service of the Space Federation Fleet. But all she had learned meant little now that she was destined for the Mountain Run.

Amanda's flesh tingled, when the trolley halted at the top of the mountain ridge, beneath a frame that swung from an overhead cable. She strained her tightly imprisoned neck to follow the cable down the mountain slope and into a break in the forest below. Around her was a group of leather-clad guards, whose heavily armoured costumes were in brutal contrast to her soft and helpless nudity. Steel and leather protected them while the same materials removed her defences. Coupled with their impressively bulging muscles, it was overkill, but somehow it excited her. There was nothing fair in war, she thought, conscious of her visible state of arousal, seemingly inviting their attentions.

That invitation did not go unheeded. Her lovely mound was parted, the soft pinkness of her inner flesh glistening with her readiness. Cod-pieces opened and the first guard grinned as his rigid cock found her entrance. She squirmed helplessly as the firm pressure opened her then filled her deep with a delicious smooth thrust. The strokes were long, hard and quickened as his pleasure came. With each stroke his groin pressed hard against her ring, and she cried out with pleasure. One by one they enjoyed the exciting hot friction of her soft pussy, pleasuring her until each one came in a spurting grunting climax.

At last she surfaced in a sea of grinning faces. As they fastened their clothing she looked around, suddenly aware of her vulnerability to the peculiarly threatening machinery that surrounded her, and the juices that dripped from her well-used pussy. Her view was framed by the shiny black leather of her thigh-length boots as the preparations were quickly completed. As she drank in the rippling muscles of her captors, she still shook with excitement. Would that be the last time she would enjoy the thrust of a human cock?

Her high leather boots were made for running, with strong flexible soles designed to grip on almost any surface. Their heels were not a weapon. The smooth shiny leather concealed strong steel bands around her ankles, with rings that protruded conveniently on either side.

She struggled uselessly as strong hands gripped her ankles. They held her legs down and apart as they released them from the trolley, attaching her ankles to strong elastic cords that stretched taut to the base of the hanging frame. The remaining straps and clamps were released, leaving her wrists cuffed beside her neck. They lifted her upright. Her legs were tugged apart by the strong elastics, and she could not quite bring them together. She stood awkwardly at the top of the slope, between the vertical arms that descended almost to the ground on either side. Even if her arms had been free, the uprights were well out of reach, joined by a crossbar above her head.

Above her the magnetic motor was silent, its electronic controls waiting for the signal to start its journey. She shuffled her parted feet as the guards completed their adjustments. A further cord ran up to the frame from behind her neck. With a loud click the frame began to glide smoothly forwards. A moment later she felt a tug at her neck and ankles, and simultaneously the fiery slash of a whip across her bare bottom. She leapt forward, yelling in protest and struggling desperately to keep her footing, but forced to adjust her pace to the steady movement of the frame. Her unrestrained breasts jigged in an unruly motion, obstinately refusing to behave, while the soft loops in her nipples added to those distracting sensations.

Suddenly she was on her own, away from the guards who had sent her on her way. There was no sign of the hidden cameras that were her only link with the world below. She understood now the loneliness of the Mountain Run. There would be no help, and no turning back now.

Her prettily dimpled, keyhole-shaped slit peeped cheekily from its sparse blonde camouflage as she ran, while her third pliant loop hung decoratively from its scant protection. She was terrified of losing her footing. She imagined herself dangling from the yoke, helpless to regain her feet as the frame continued its journey down the mountain. If the elastic stretched enough she would be dragged screaming over the rough mountain terrain on her bare bottom, while the rocks tore and scraped her unprotected flesh. That was not a pleasant prospect, but fortunately the frame was moving slowly enough to allow her to pick her way carefully down the uneven path. Unknown to Amanda, the electronic controls would halt the frame if she lost her balance.

It was curious that her loops were not a part of her bondage, she reflected. It was not like them to leave them such tempting points of attachment accessible and yet untouched. She wondered what horrors she was to endure that would satisfy all those jaded appetites.

It gave her an odd feeling to know that she was exposed to that intimate attention. Her parted legs revealed the intimate folds of her aroused sex lips, while those soft rings jutted invitingly from her nipples, and the blonde curls of her mound. She still felt the fiery burn of the red stripes that criss-crossed her naked bottom.

Gradually she drew closer to the menacing edge of the forest. The wilderness areas of Jolan II were usually avoided. They were full of dangers for the unsuspecting explorer: weird inquisitive animals and strange plants. It was rumoured that some of them were carnivorous. But she knew nothing of the perils that awaited her on this pathway of horror. Her knees developed an obstinate weakness as she tried to keep up with the steadily advancing frame above her head, trembling with fear. As she reached the edge of the jungle the frame rose a little higher, forcing her to part her legs still wider. She saw the tall canes gradually rising in the middle of the path ahead, but she could only shiver as they reached higher and higher, first tickling her inner thighs, then rising further until she felt the first touch prickling the flesh hidden beneath her bush. The insistent stroking continued as her inner lips rippled with pleasure and parted like the unfolding leaves of an opening blossom, to expose her glistening pink inner flesh. The canes were growing taller and firmer, and some would whiplash, striking her lips painfully, or catching her exposed clitoris to produce an exquisite agony that exceeded the worst she had experienced during her months of slave training.

The sting of their impacts grew and merged until her juicy lips were red with the fiery pain, and she twitched jerkily each time the canes flicked again at her unprotected flesh. There was no evading the torment, but gradually she felt a throbbing heat grow and expand until she was quivering with the intensity of it.

Liquid pleasure flowed like an icy fire, pervasive, filling her with its sweetness until she was intoxicated with its excess, but as unexpectedly as the row of tormenting canes had begun, they ended and cool air enveloped her burning flesh. The sting dulled with exquisite slowness as she stumbled on down the mountain, twitching as the fiery pain faded into a deep sweet and sensual tingling that distracted her from the torments that surely awaited her further down the mountain.

Some distance passed before she began again to take notice of her surroundings. Lush vegetation had begun to spread across the trail. Creepers and weird tendrils weaved a dance around her. The frame kept her moving slowly forward, its legs rising a little to avoid snagging the stout elastic cords. Amanda lifted her feet awkwardly over the creepers and roots, struggling to keep her balance.

She had been warned of the dangers when she had agreed to accept this assignment back on Kiran, less than two years ago. Now it seemed like a lifetime since those days of blissful ignorance and patriotic dreams. She had known that the assignment would be dangerous, simply because none of her predecessors had ever returned to tell the tale. All the efforts to create a new and credible identity on Lacter were wasted now that she had been discovered, and she had not even had the chance to learn anything of real value. On the contrary, she had gone through months of slave training, only to discover her weakness for sex, any kind of sex, and especially anything involving submission to restraint and punishment. She felt like a traitor. She knew that she deserved whatever lay in store, and however terrible the torment, she had an awful feeling that she was going to enjoy it.

She had spent weeks in a secret Federal Fleet training camp on Kiran, learning the skills she would need as a spy on the notorious pleasure planet, including the use of DISC (Device for Inter-Stellar Communications) systems. After early exploration ships from Earth had been lost, the public had almost forced a permanent abandonment of space exploration. The first tenuous success of DISC had brought reluctant approval for the exploration, and later the settlement of the first habitable planetary systems, including the Jolan System.

Amanda had also learned some unarmed combat. This had strengthened her confidence, although she had never been faced with a real combat on equal terms with a determined opponent. As she had discovered once she had arrived on Jolan II, confidence was far from being enough.

On Jolan II nothing was equal, especially since all the girls wore body rings that made them exceedingly vulnerable. The men were strong, practised and well equipped to deal with a rebellious girl, or simply one who had discovered the pleasures of submission and pain. Little was left to chance, she discovered and that included the psychology involved in slave training. She had not understood her compulsive addiction to the special pleasures of pain and submission, until that moment when she had yielded to capture on her only attempt at completing her mission. No amount of preparation or training could change physiology, she had learned. Her strength had dissolved at the first sight of those guards with their Slave Catchers. She had felt a vulnerable sensuality at the thought of being their prey, knowing the sensual excitement she would enjoy at the moment of capture. The lure of submission, as always, had overcome all her will to resist.

So now, she admitted ruefully to herself, she was in a pickle. It was one of her own making, she thought, although on Jolan II anything was possible, including the manipulation of members of the Federal Fleet, who were also human and susceptible to sexual entrapment. Now Amanda realised just how sophisticated sexual entrapment had become, how willingly she herself had accepted the submissive role. And now she was treading the most fearsome path she had ever experienced.

More tall slender plants reached up to her thighs and she came closer and closer until they touched her flesh. Something clung to her and then caught. She gasped. The slender tips curled into hooks, and many of them were catching her pussy loop, pulling it down until more of them caught her with every step. The soft hooks threaded her loop and then clung. She was forced onward. The pain grew with every step as those clinging loops tugged free, one by one. The succession of soft tugs was like a juddering pull at her tender clitoris and she felt weakness overtaking her, a sweet erotic fire expanding from her core until it threatened to overwhelm her senses.

She staggered forward, gasping for breath as the pulses of pleasure grew stronger. She tore helplessly at her wrist-cuffs in a desperate struggle for freedom. It was no use. There was no mercy, and there would be no relief from that intimate torment, at least until she reached the next stage of her ordeal, and she knew that it was going to get worse, much worse. Her juices were running copiously from her sex, dripping from her inner softness and pouring down her legs in a flood, while she shuddered and gasped in a continuous orgasm that went on and on until her consciousness was a kaleidoscope of tiny fragments in continuous motion. She was sure that those terrible hooks would never let her go and the frame continued its inexorable progress, forcing her to take step after reluctant step.

At last she was free from the tormenting hooked plants, while the remorseless journey down through the jungle continued. She had heard noises, chattering and high pitched cries from the creatures of the forest. Now she was deep in the heart of the jungle and the noises were coming closer. A squealing ball of fur flashed through the air and landed on her shoulder. Tiny clawed hands found the rings that jutted from her nipples and pulled them, then clung to her breast. She felt its mouth take her nipple and bite gently. Its teeth were sharp and dug into her tender flesh. She yelled and wriggled while it continued its attentions to her other nipple, struggling uselessly to free her wrists while its dangerous attentions continued.

She was so distracted that she hardly felt the second ball of fur run up her leg and cling to her thigh. But she felt its experimental tugs at her pubic hair, its slender sharp fingers probing her crevice and then it found her ring, chattering with excitement. She cried out with terror as it grabbed the brightly coloured ring and released its grip on her thigh. An instant later it was swinging joyfully beneath her, careless of her pain. She felt her clitoris stirring, terrified at her vulnerability to that mischievous bundle of energy with its sharp claws and teeth. As the other animal continued to nibble at her swollen nipples she was conscious of the glistening pink morsel that was peeping temptingly forth. She wriggled and cried with fear and pain as more of the inquisitive animals appeared and noisily joined in the fun, swinging from her rings and testing her tenderest flesh with their sharp little teeth, noses and little flicking tongues. She gasped for breath as they teased her mercilessly.

In spite of her fears the playful animals eventually fell free and ran chattering away into the jungle. They could not have been very hungry that day, she reflected. Perhaps they had not liked the taste of her. In any case, she was lucky. She was shaken at the suddenness of the assault, but relieved that she had escaped any serious injury. Next time a creature discovered her presence on its territory she might not be so lucky. There was something less than predictable about all of this, or so it seemed. But the entertainment would be incomplete if she failed to finish the run. That could not be the intention, she thought hopefully, realising at once that the finish was likely to be rather nasty. She would not be needed after that.

A tug at her ankles reminded Amanda to keep pace with the frame as it began to move a little more quickly down the mountain trail. Ahead a mysterious patch of bright colour drew steadily closer while the trees became gradually taller and more widely spaced, their spreading branches reaching further over the track. Beneath, a sea of prettily coloured flowers was a carpet covering the trail and a large area of the forest around. The tall tubular stems were mostly blue, with a hint of black. The flowers were large and bulbous, fleshed in pink with short yellow-coated tendrils curling upwards. As she came closer Amanda realised that it was going to be a bit of a struggle to pass through the thick sea of thigh-high plants. The frame lifted, tugging her feet a little wider. And then she was stepping over them.

The tendrils felt pleasant, tickling her lightly as they brushed between her legs, caressing her tormented, swollen lips. She felt a stirring of her flesh. A sweet itching sensation grew into a soaring, intoxicating feeling that became stronger as her underflesh gathered more of the bright yellow substance. Her legs began to feel heavy as the lethargy crept upon her. The frame gently tugged her feet always a little deeper into the sea of colourful waving heads. There was an occasional tubular red stem among the blue, moist with a transparent secretion. One brushed between her thighs. Its slippery top touched her lips lightly. She passed another and then another but every time the compulsion grew to press down onto one of those juicy stems.

Tendrils curled up around her legs and contracted, holding her motionless. She hardly noticed when the frame stopped. The slithery stem sprang firm against her soft entrance as she wriggled her hips, feeling a cool tongue emerge from the centre of its tubular stem and slip easily up into her open vagina. It rose quickly until it filled her, expanding her elastic inner flesh and forcing her to rise onto her toes. Creepers continued to advance up her legs and around her body, weaving a mesh that held her firmly in place, infiltrating her rings and stretching them out from her body. There was a gentle suction within, an extrusion into her womb while the sticky head of the plant collected yellowy powder from her outer flesh. She cried out as exquisite pleasure overwhelmed her, rubbing her lips against its sticky head as the slippery tongue continued to move inside her.

She felt abandoned when it withdrew at last. The soft tongue that had felt so vibrantly alive within her slithered back into its tube, and its tip contracted. The creepers relaxed until she was free to move again. The frame moved quickly, allowing her no rest as it took her on and out of the intoxicating beauty of the field of pleasures. A girl might wander easily alone, passing from flower to flower with pleasure her sole reward for carrying the seed of life from one to another. Amanda knew that without the insistent motion of the frame, she might never have escaped from that pleasure trap. She imagined herself alone and at the mercy of that wicked field of plants.

Amanda wondered what those bulbous stems might do to a man. Would they possess him in lips as sweet as the tongue she had known, and take his seed? She imagined how a man's thick creamy juice might be preserved, and then inoculated into a girl while she succumbed to the intoxicating pleasures so temptingly designed for a woman's fertile body. How had the plants adapted to this bizarre form of pollination without the deliberate involvement of human genetic engineers? This environment seemed too natural, too thriving to be just the result of an experiment. Perhaps there were other plants, and animals too that depended for their survival on the symbiotic exchange of genes, and this made it possible for the plants to adapt quickly to any new animal species that appeared on the planet. But Amanda had learned just how inventive the natives of Jolan II could be.

It would be impossible for man or woman to resist such seductive pleasures, so perfectly adapted to their bodies. Could there be some kind of reverse symbiosis, whereby the plants themselves alter animal genes, adapting animal species to conceive only while pollinating the plant? Amanda wondered if she had already been impregnated with the altered seed of a man. The plants seemed too well adapted to have any lesser purpose. Her botany training on Lacter had left her with more questions than answers. She wondered how her reclusive botanical researcher friend would respond if he could see this extraordinary development for himself. Just looking at a field of prettily coloured plants would not be enough. He would want her to venture again into the field of pleasures, while he would happily record every intimate detail of her adventure. His concern for her safety would be as nothing compared to his fascination as a scientist.

A tug at her ankles reminded Amanda of her present predicament. The frame continued on down the mountain slope. She ran faster and faster, panting with the effort to keep up. It would be so easy to lose her balance. She almost panicked. Ahead the ground dropped away, but she could not see over the edge. There was a kind of indentation. The frame slowed, rising as it neared the edge, stretching Amanda's legs wider and wider until she was leaping from foot to foot in a desperate struggle to keep upright, but just as she reached the edge, her ankles continued on while her neck cord stretched and her bare bottom came down with a bump in the slippery chute.

She slid down the wet slimy chute on her back, pulled along by her parted ankles. She could see little beyond her furry nest so openly framed between her two thigh length black leather boots with her ring prettily projecting. The sides of the chute were curved, and water ran down over the slippery surface. She hurtled down the slope at a frightening speed. Ahead a structure loomed over the chute, then she was in a dark tunnel before emerging in a crowded arena full of noisy spectators. The frame rose until she was suspended upside down from her ankles, wriggling helplessly while hands gripped her limbs. Soon she was detached from the frame, and her wrists were crossed tightly behind her and roped together. Then her elbows were pulled closer and bound. She stood shakily alone. She felt incredibly vulnerable in front of the excited crowd.

Aaaah! She yelled in surprise as the whip snapped accurately at her bare bottom cheeks, squirming as she felt the heat grow into a fire that propelled her into motion across the smooth rocky floor of the arena. Everywhere there were guards, some armed with whips, while others carried those awesome Slave Catchers. It was impossible for her to pass a guard without an encouraging flick of his whip, and soon her pretty bottom was decorated with a lacing of pink stripes.

The sweetness was growing in her unprotected slit. She felt juicy and vulnerable. The guards were converging ahead, armed with the long hooked Slave Catchers. A prod at her bottom forced her closer to the line of guards ahead. She gasped with excitement as the Slave Catcher reached out and deftly snared her ring, shuddering with excitement as she felt the sweet tension at her tender clitoral ridge. She squirmed as the lucky guard led her towards a raised platform in the centre of the arena, then up the steps and onto the open stage where a gleaming blunt-tipped spike projected wickedly, in full view of the crowd.

Amanda wriggled in fright, but her desperation was to no avail. In a moment she was positioned over the spike. Fingers probed her juicy entrance, and the warm steel slid steadily up into her soft body. She continued to wriggle as the spike lifted her onto her toes, and she scrabbled helplessly for a grip on the gleaming shaft. Her struggles distracted her from the severe figures of the approaching officials.

The first to come close was Aldon. Gently he hung small weights on her body rings, first on her nipple loops and then on her lower loop. She felt the weight stretching her flesh, and almost surrendered her control, but then he whispered quietly to calm her. A severe official advanced, dressed in black and holding a long wicked looking whip. He flicked it expertly around her waist, and then delivered two accurate cuts across the already reddened flesh beneath her bottom cheeks. She wriggled in pain. There were others pinching her, then a cane slashed wickedly at the delicate undersides of her breasts. It was like being punished on a dildo pole but worse, much worse. But unexpectedly the punishment stopped. One of the officials stepped forward to speak.

"Amanda," he began, "You have been condemned as a spy. This is one of the most serious crimes in space. However you have performed well during your training. You have done well during your punishment today on the Mountain Run. In consequence, we are giving you a free choice. You are going to decide what will happen to you, but first you must reflect on what you have learned about yourself, here on Jolan II."

Amanda fidgeted as he spoke, feeling the thick shaft distending her soft flesh, pressing high up into her belly. She imagined that she could feel the prick of its tip as she settled a little further.

"If you wish, we will return you to your masters. Ships leave here every day. A free passage can be arranged to wherever you wish to go. Once you decide to leave, you can never return to the Jolan System, or your sentence will be reinstated. If you decide to return to your native planet, I should warn you that a slave such as yourself can never be happy without an understanding master. Such are rare indeed beyond the Jolan System."

Amanda's mouth opened in astonishment at this pronouncement. Could this be a trick? There was a ring of truth in what he said.

"You should also think of those who sent you here. Could they ever trust you again, now that you have learned to depend on the pleasures we have taught you? They will know how easily you could be tempted, just for a taste of the pleasures you have learned to need."

"We offer you another choice. You have completed your training as a pleasure slave. If you wish, you can make Jolan II your home. There are conditions, if you make this choice. You may never again seek to leave the Jolan System. You will be given a new name. If you are ever caught again attempting to spy or use a communicator, you will die."

"If you refuse these generous alternatives our whipmaster will see that your death is a speedy one, and your body will be returned to your native planet for the honours you deserve."

Amanda trembled at the thought of this last alternative. She knew how easily she would lose control once the whipmaster went seriously to work on her soft and precariously perched body. Her death would be neither quick nor painless, in spite of his promise.

The officials stood in silence as they waited for her to speak. It was the longest moment of her life as her experiences flashed through her mind. Her gaze shifted desperately around the arena, then rested on Aldon. He had been her tormentor, but also her loving teacher.

She knew in her heart that there was only one choice. He was right about returning to Kiran, or even Lacter. She could not undo what had happened to her here on Jolan II. She would always be a restless soul but here at least there were always new and ingenious ways to satisfy the most educated appetites. She looked at Aldon and saw the pain in his eyes. He understood her inner conflict, and her love of her home planet. Whatever decision she took, he would respect, and in the end it was his trust that made her happy that her choice was right.

THE END

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29.11.09

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