An Unexpected Choice

“So, Steve. How do you like being a pirate?”

“First of all shut up. Second of all my name is not Steve.” He seems like a decent guard; big, strong, and gruff, and too stupid to think of reasons to deviate from orders. Of course, he’s not that good. He still has all of your gear for instance, and he hasn’t found your com bud to Melodia.

“Ohhh, but Steve, I want to hear about your adventures.” You adopt a pouty face. Steve seems to think he has all the power in the relationship. There’s no need for him to believe otherwise at the moment.

“All you need to hear is the sound of me laughing while you gag on my dick.” He grabs you roughly and pulls you close, so that your back is against his chest. He yanks your flight suit open and pulls down your bra. A yelp escapes your lips as your generous bust pops free, allowing the pirate easy access. Calloused hands mangle your breast eliciting moans of pain and pleasure. You smile, partly because you get off on rough sex, but also because the newfound proximity gives your cuffed hands a chance to peruse his pockets.

“Hmmm, are you going to punish me? You should know, I’ve been the most awfully bad girl.” You grab his cock through his pants. The less this guy is thinking with his head, the easier this is going to be.

“So you’re one of those sluts, huh?” Before you can find the key to the cuffs, he spins you around so that you’re facing each other. Hungry eyes bore into you before he slams his mouth into yours. You are thoroughly annoyed. You can’t reach his pockets any more. “It’s a shame really, I like playing with the masochistic ones. Too bad the captain’s going to want you adjusted so quick.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you. “The captain mentioned that. Is that some sort of special pirate **** training? Is a big strong man like you going to teach me how to behave?” You give him the obligatory eyelash bat.

“Hah. Don’t you wish.” The turbolift door opens and Steve pulls you out of the turbolift by the nipples. You squeak as your tits are stretched out. “Let’s get one thing straight slut. It doesn’t matter how much you like pain. We’re going to take that away from you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It would be easier to just show you.” He leads you to the far end of the dungeon. Stretched out before and above you is hands down the most modern and impressive dungeon you’ve ever seen. The rows of **** posts, racks and restraint chairs that fill the main floor have an assembly line quality. Some of them appear to be on tracks that would allow them to be easily relocated and there are a wide array of robotic arms that you suspect can either restrain slaves automatically, or be attached with various instruments of sexual torment. There’s a casino on Terrador Station you went to once. The whole main floor was just different slot machines. That’s what this reminds you of. Except instead of one armed bandits, you see bondage equipment. This place could probably hold 500 slaves without doubling up, and it looks like some of the equipment is designed to do just that. Cells and private rooms line the walls and hanging from the ceiling are cages and suspension harnesses.

“Hey Steve,” you ask betraying a hint of nervousness for the first time, “where are all of the slaves?” In spite of the multitude of equipment, not a single scream of pain, groan of pleasure, or whimper of despair sings out from the dungeons. It is empty and still, like the rest of the ship.

“Captain always said this place was a waste of space.” Well there’s another reason Captain Rhodes is just the worst. It takes all of your (limited) self control to keep yourself from kicking Steve right in the balls. You instead focus on your destination; a door on the far side of the dungeon. It’s different from the rest. Most of the doors are bulky metal things, clearly designed to intimidate, or are barred, so that prisoners can see out and observe future torments. This one is different. It’s a simple sliding door, locked by a nondescript keypad. But for all of it’s unassuming nature, it is clear that the dungeon revolves around whatever lies behind the door. All of the nearby **** equipment faces it, and it is in the center of the wall, directly adjacent from the turbolift entrance. In a room of sexual deviancy, this room is the focus. Steve enters a code and drags you inside.

The room is built around a large table somewhere between a gurney and CAT scanner. If someone were to lie down on it, there head would be **** under a metal hood with dozens of large cables sticking out at odd angles. They all lead to what looks like computer banks stored under the table. The table was clearly built to hold someone who did not want to lie there. To the side is another guard who is enjoying a blowjob from a nude Asian slavegirl. Like all the other slaves you’ve seen, she is unbound and uncollared.

“Gregory.” Steve shouts, “Show this slut how adjustment works."

Gregory looks down at his **** girl, who shakes her head fearfully. He shrugs. “Sure.”

“NO! I’VE BEEN A GOOD GIRL. YOU SAID IF I WAS GOOD YOU WOULDN’T SCRAMBLE ME!”

You shudder as you realize what’s going to happen. Adjustment is not a term you know, but scrambling is. A couple of years ago, there was a big push to use mental reconditioning to rehabilitate dangerous convicts. It was supposed to be humane and more cost effective than the prison system. It wound up being neither. After costing the Federation billions of credits, scientists were finally able to develop a prototype that would remove dangerous mental tendencies from an inmate. It worked, it just didn’t stop at the dangerous ones. Bercephelous Typhus was the first and only inmate to be sentenced to mental reconfiguration. After his sentence was carried out, he actually starved to **** because he no longer cared enough to feed himself. Granted, Typhus was famous for decorating homes with the entrails of his victims, but that didn’t stop the media from having a field day. The famous headline went, “If we wanted a scrambled brain, we could have gotten a cook.” Supposedly, the only prototype was destroyed. Apparently not.

The poor Asian claws to get away but Gregory simply grabs her by the hair and hauls her to the table. “That’s what’s going to happen to you.” Steve holds you close as the Asian begs for her consciousness to an uncaring executioner. You may like it if I beat you, or you may not. When we’re done, your not going to have the ability to like anything.” He whispers in your ear. “They want happy slaves over at the Syndicate. The captain thinks that’s more effort than it’s worth. He wants slaves that look pretty and do what they’re told.” He gives your breasts a squeeze and tightens his grip. You can feel his cock getting hard at the sight of all this. “We usually give them a chance to serve well before we take away their minds. It’s a good motivator.” As Gregory finishes strapping in the ****, the hood descends so that it covers her head. It does nothing to muffle her pleas for mercy. Gregory taps a few buttons on the control panel.

“Give it a minute to warm up and we can say goodbye to the noise.” He shouts over the screaming ****. In between her cries you can hear a humming as the machine slowly powers into action.

You finally find the keys. “Yeah,” you say, “I don’t think we need to do that.” It’s not your first time escaping from handcuffs; your hands free are before Steve processes what you’ve said. Steve is a good guard on paper: big, strong, and gruff, and too stupid to think of reasons to deviate from orders. But he took his eye off the ball. Instead of guarding you, he wanted to torment you and see others tormented. Now, you can have fun while guarding a tricksy bitch because you are a talented and classy Mistress. Steve on the other hand is just a thug. A thug in a red shirt.

The back of your head slams into his chin at the same time you whip his gun out of its holster. Gregory looks on dumbfounded for only half a second before pulling out his own gun. It’s more than enough time for you. By the time Gregory fires, you’ve already moved behind Steve. Maybe Gregory didn’t like Steve. Maybe in the heat of the action, he was just so focused on you he forgot all about Steve. Maybe as a pirate, he didn’t care. Either way, he shoots Steve square in the chest. You avenge Steve with one shot right between the eyes.

You rush over to the bound ****. The humming is turning to a screech as more power pours into the machine. Electricity is arcing between the cables. “Please save me!” she shouts.

Rushing over to the controls, you look for an off switch but they may as well have been written in Senagol for all the sense the random numbers and letters make. “Fuck it.” You take careful aim and fire three shots into the equipment under the table. The noise slowly fades as you remove the hood. “You alright?”

“I’m… I’m okay,” she says through tears. “You saved me.”

“Well, sometimes I’m accidentally a nice girl.” You take a look at your handiwork. Steve’s pistol is pretty overpowered and the holes you shot went clean through the bottom half of the adjuster. Still, no need for half measures. You unload the rest of the pistol’s power pack into the lower half of the machine rendering one of the most terrifying tools of **** the galaxy has ever seen into little more than a fancy bondage table. Just the way you like it.

After readjusting your flight suit, you grab your gear from Steve’s corpse and search it for anything of value. He’s got a stun rod and three spare power packs for his pistol, which you grab, but the real prize is his comm bud. Setting it to mute, so it won’t transmit, you insert it into your ear. There’s no panicked screams or pleas for help, so either Bellextra really let you down, or they haven’t brought her-

Suddenly, a tremor runs through the hull and you are thrown back against the remains of the adjuster. “That’s my girl.” On queue an alarm sounds throughout the ship as half a dozen officers are asking for a status update before the voice of Captain Rhodes cuts them all off.

“Security to deck 14 now! Damage control teams, prepare to seal hull breach! And in the name of the Pain God, bring me that red tranny bitch!”

Your enemies are fighting each other. You have the one device that can find the lost treasure, and the one person who knows how to use it. Everyone thinks you’re locked in the dungeon either being horrifically tortured or rendered a mindless vegetable. Knowing the way your plans usually go, you can say with confidence this could not have worked better if you planned it.

You get up and prepare to leave. “Wait,” the **** cries from the table table. “Aren’t you going to take me with you?”

You turn and give her a look over. She’s pretty, that’s for certain. Shoulder length black hair, almond eyes and smooth skin. Her breasts are small, but well defined, and she has a slender figure that is by no means unappealing. Still, you didn’t come here to here to get another ****.

“Normally I would but I have other things I need to take care of right now.” You shrug and turn.

“You’re not here to save me?”

“Me? Oh, gods no. Oh, this is embarrassing. I don’t usually, ever really, save people. I’m more of the capture and torment type. Look, I got to go.”

“No please! You can’t leave me here, they’ll **** me!”

“So will I. I’m a pretty sadistic bitch.”

That catches her off guard, but only for a moment. “Please, these people are evil. You can’t be as bad as these guys. I’ll take my chances. I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll be your ****. Just get me out of here.”

You open your mouth to reply and can’t think of anything. “Hold on,” you say as you make sure the pirate comm bud is turned off. Through your personal comm bud you ask “Melodia are you hearing this?”

“Yes Mistress.” She’s been very good. She kept her mouth shut and trusted you to get out of there.

“Well?”

“Well, what? Don’t you want another ****.”

“I mean, kind of.”

“Who are you-AHHH!” The nameless **** screams as you bring your recovered whip across her exposed belly. You hold up a single finger to your lips in the shh position.

“Is there something wrong with her?”

“Well no, she’s cute.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Instead of responding right away, you remotely access the punishment feature of the co-pilots chair. “The problem is,” you say after her screams die down a bit, “that I’m on gods damned fucking pirate ship! How the fuck am I supposed to get her to Breaker?”

“I don’t know, you’re the bounty hunter. Isn’t getting people out of dangerous situations part of your job?”

She’s got you there. “There’s no bounty on her." You turn to address the ****. "Right?” She shakes her head.

“Do you really care? I mean, half the reason you do this is so you can sexually **** your prisoners. Probably closer to 75-80 percent, am I right?”

She is really doing a better job of calling out your bullshit than a sub has any business doing to her dom. “Look,” she continues, “just take her along and if things get hairy throw the sexy **** at the bad guys and run the other direction. That’s got to be a solid distraction right?”

Shit, that’s a good idea. Still, seems like an awful lot of trouble though.