No, You Resist

"Can I close the curtain?" you ask, referring to the still-present curtain which used to be used to separate the beds in the nurse's office.

"No," he says. "You'll be nude for the photos, so there's not much point in trying to preserve your modesty."

You were afraid of that. "Am I being marketed as a sex ****?" you ask.

"You were given an order. Strip."

"Answer my--" the collar goes off. It's worse than any of the previous times, as though someone had peeled the collar off your neck, and the skin it rested on had been flayed off with it.

"Strip, or we hold you down and rip your clothes off."

You stagger to your feet. "Please just tell m--" the collar sends you back down. You land on your face. One soldier pins your legs down, while another pulls your arms out in front of you and pins them. The nothian speaker gets down on the ground next to you. {if Escape Attempts=1}They already took your coat off while you were out earlier. {else}He pulls your coat off while the soldier holding your arms manhandles them to **** you to allow this.{endif} The nothian speaker grabs the bottom of your shirt and undershirt, and yanks them off with a single motion, leaving your torso bare. "Not bad," the soldier says, running a hand down your back. You are, perhaps, conventionally attractive. Short though you may be, you have the muscles one would expect of a high-school athlete. Your arms are well-defined, as is your six pack.

The soldier rips off your boots, then your socks, then both your pairs of pants: the thicker one meant to stand up to the Nothian snows, and the thinner one meant to help the other keep you warm.

You're in your underwear now, but even that doesn't last long. The soldier grabs the waistband and, in contrast to his fierceness up until this point, revels in taking an agonizingly long time to pull your underwear down. It hid an average sized but well-shaped cock and balls, along with a cute, gently bulging butt.

The soldiers get off of you. "You can stand up now," the soldier says.

You do. The soldier is scanning up and down your body, drinking you in. "Please stop looking at me like that," you say.

"Who are you asking?" he says.

"You," you say, with as much venom as you can muster.

"Wrong answer." The collar goes off. You fall.

The soldier grabs you, and lifts you to your feet. "Now, go stand in front of the camera. It's time to get your pictures taken."

You're still for a moment, but he shoves you in front of the camera. The black cloth is behind you. The camerawoman is upright now, ready to take some snaps of you. "Gorek kuz sin togok," she says.

"Stand in the very center," the soldier says. You do. "Alright," he says, "hands to your side, and look at the camera." Putting your hands to your side would **** you to uncover your junk, which is probably the point. The hesitation that results from this fact earns you another shock, before you relent. The camera's flash goes off.

"Kogdoth," the camerawoman says.

"Turn around," the soldier says. "Face the wall."

As you do, you're painfully aware of your bare butt. You're young, but not a child. You don't have many skills that would be useful to a corporation. {if Virgin=1}You're a virgin, a fact they felt the need to verify, along with {else}They asked if you were a virgin, and about {endif}your sexual orientation. And you're attractive. It's a fact you've sort of known about yourself for a few years now. {if Into Men=0}Girls{elseif Into Women=0}Guys{else}Guys and girls{endif} haven't exactly been falling all over themselves for you, but, well, you've been on a few dates, and never had a hard time getting one if there was a dance or something coming up. Now that you're in the hands of the Empire...

"Spread your arms and legs," the soldier says. You start to shake your head, but the collar goes off. It's a lower setting, but now it's enough. You hold your arms out, and spread your legs, then you turn around, and do the same. You close your eyes. You try to leave this place. Retreat to somewhere else, just for a moment. "Keep your eyes open," the soldier says. Your imagination is just another place you aren't allowed to escape to. A few more pictures get taken. "Alright. now we need one of you doing the pose. I don't imagine you know what that is?"

"No."

"Who are you talking to?"

"No, sir."

"Slaves are expected to kneel in a specific way." He pulls the screenpad off the desk, the same one he recorded your answers on. He shows you a picture of a nude slavegirl, down on her right knee. Her right arm is in front of her, and her fist rests on her left knee. Her face is buried behind her arm. "Do this."

You hesitate, but once he goes for the button that activates the collar, you're down before he can even press it. "Head down," the soldier says, though you had thought it already was. "Keep it down. Don't look up. Your hand should be a proper fist. Thumb on the outside." You switch it. "Okay. Looks good enough." The picture is taken.

Next there are close-ups on several parts of your body. Your face. Your torso. Your arms. Your legs. Your butt. Your junk. They have to hold you still for those, but it's not like they have any trouble. "Just one more," the soldier says. "We need one of you erect."

"What?"

He holds his finger over the button. "Sorry, that response was wrong. I was looking for 'yes, sir.'"