A Democratic Process

As the pirates disappear down the hall, the Breaker’s ramp descends revealing what may be the kinkiest game of tug’o’war you’ve ever seen. On one side is Melodia, doing her best to pull along a very resistant Alexa. Team Alexa’s uniform is a simple **** harness that highlights her waif figure delicously. There are a few accoutrements. Cuffs hold her arms behind her back. A panel gag muffles her protests and if you were a betting women, you would assume the black leather holds a dildo down her throat. The thick posture collar features a D-ring which is all she's using to oppose her challenger. She leans back at nearlly a 45 degree angle, furiously pulling on the leash Melodia is attempting to wrangle her with.

Melodia holds the other end, leaning in the opposite direction. Her outfit is less submissive, but no less revealing. A black satin corset pushes up her bare tits, each jerk on the leash making the pert flesh shake. Garters hold up dark nylons which flow down smooth legs to shiny black heels. Not for the first time, you make a mental note to **** the secrets of her mystery wardrobe out of your **** in the most intimate and sensual ways possible.

The leather chord of the leash stretches tight between them as the two pull against each other, each trying to gain ground. Melodia towards the future, Alexa anywhere but the Freedom's End. Together they form an inverted triangle, with their feet forming the point and the leash the top. If either were to give in, the other would tumble backwards.

“Oh girls, that is very entertaining, but there is an important procedural motion regarding my leadership going on in the dungeon and I really don’t want to be more than fashionably late.”

“I’m sorry mistress!” Melodia grunts as Alexa makes a solid attempt to wrench her arm from her socket. “She’s never been this difficult!”

“Well, we are dragging her aboard a ship she was so **** to escape that she literally begged to be my ****.” You strut forward and grab her at the collar to pull her forward. She has the sense not to oppose you, although her eyes are wide with terror. “Do you remember that?” She nods as you reach your hands and caress her ever moist slit soothingly. “Yeah, that must have been pretty scary.” Another nod. “But the scrambler is gone now, and this is now my ship, my crew.” She moans as you sensually rub her. “The only thing you have to fear now....” She squeals as you pinch her clit. “-is me if you disappoint. Understand?” Another nod, this one quite emphatic. “Good girl.”

Melodia moans as you magnicuff her and slide the ring gag past her ruby lips. Under the spell of your all controlling air of command, Alexa forgets her former fear and presses into Melodia, almond skin caressing pale flesh. Perhaps she is seeking the comfort of a fellow **** sister, but based on the way she's rubbing against Melodia, you suspect her motives are more carnal. Just a hunch. They both whine and coo as you tease them, rubbing their lower lips and love buttons. Their eyes beg for more as you pull away the tickling fingers. Can’t have them finishing too soon. You’re trying to build a reputation after all.

Taking one leash in each hand, you march after the crew, their raucous cheering a pleasant change from the dreary silence of your first visit to this ship. Honestly, Mal had no style. Keeping this place so dull. Unlike you of course. Two slaves follow you. Before you a band of feared galactic reavers drive helpless captives towards **** submission. Not to mention, that tight flight suit you wear, creaking as you sway your hips down the hall. Precum surely leaks from the many orifices of the lust gods as they take a smoke break from the Great Orgy Beyond to behold your magnificence.

You all squeeze in the elevator. Clearly the it was never designed to accommodate so many, but your crew is not the type to be bound by petty rules; slaves are the only ones who get bound afterall. The cozy ride also gives everyone a nice opportunity to **** the slaves. The stench of flesh and sex is everywhere as the your playthings bemoan at their fate. Bellextra's iron shaft rubs terribly close to the bound Bantam's asshole, and you suspect the only reason that she hasn't gone for the penetration is because a Turnk has already pushed his oversized finger up it. Swanna is **** to press her nipples into the cold steel walls and pretend she isn't enjoying the hundred tiny tentacles massaging her dripping cunt. And the Oo'lick is making fast friends with Melodia in the only way two ring-gagged slaves can. He's trying to seem disinterested, like he's focused on trying to get away from the dozen hands groping him. No doubt he's trying to play it cool, but based on his blue boner, you suspect he's just playing hard to get. Your loins ache.

The elevator doors spill open and slaves are forcefully herded toward devious devices. "Alright," you call as the crew manhandles the four captives forward. "For this election, polling locations will be that bench, the whipping post, that rack looking thing over there, and... I don't know, you guys pick the last spot. If anyone is still concerned about my leadership, feel free to speak up now. I want all your voices to be heard after all and we can always set up additional poling places. Those stockades look tempting."

Swanna screams as she is tied to to the **** pole, her hands above her head so her supple and **** form is exposed. Not happy with how she tries to cover her puss, a pirate wraps rope around her knee and lashes it to the top of the pole, so her glistening slit can be more easily flogged. “Damn you all-urrrghk!” An oversized ball gag is silences her protests.

Next to her the Oo’lick is bound to a simple bodnage bench cock up. The women of the ship eagerly ratchet down the squirming man, until in spite of his best efforts, the only thing he can get up is his cock, precum leaking down his purple tip. He tries to beg and plead, but the double ended dildo gag they have him sucking on isn’t helping. A slick pussy slides down his shaft, and another down his gag. The two femme fatales, another Oo’lick and a rail thin blond make out above him as they grind against the boi toi. From where you're standing you can't see what he's complaining about. With the blonde bounces up and down on his face, the view must be magnificent.

A heavy metal rack with three horizontal bars is the Bantams temporary home. Her arms and legs are shackeld to the top and bottom bars, while the middle bar presses against her waist out so those wide hips are available for the massive Turnk walking up behind her. He is assisted by a nude and masturbating Rey-la, who gags her with a ring that does nothing to silence the new slaves screams, but does hold her mouth open for a tentacled alien to start face fucking her. While that happens, she ties a rope to the Bantams tail and pulls it between her own needy pussy. As the **** is taken from both sides, the tail flicks and twirls like one of the more creative sex toys you’ve seen available for purchase on Terrador. Based on the Rey-la’s rolling eyes and dull moans, it seems to be quite the trick. You’ll have to try it when she’s done.

Bellextra, being the most eager, receives the least bindings. Heavy cordage more akin to tow cables than ropes bind her chest to a box tie which is then tied to the ceiling. Eagerly she bends forward so they can take her ass while her hungry mouth begs for a cock to gobble or a pussy to slurp. She is not kept waiting long.

You don’t participate in the binding of the slaves. It wouldn't do for you to give the impression you were influencing the election. Instead you take up a commanding position on a raised platform in the middle of the dungeon. With your two personal slaves kneeling at your side, it gives you a suitable air of authority and a very nice view of the action. As far as sinister places to view your devious doings, it’s not bad, but it’s missing that air of gravitas that a captain of dread pirate ship needs. You make a mental note to track down a throne. One you can chain slaves too. “Mak’leth.” your commanding voice cuts through the din.

“Aye Captain.” The tall alien easily stands out; he’s fingering Swanna’s ass, getting ready to shove something large and vibrating up it.

“Remember this is a vote to see who will lead this fine crew. Those who wish me to cede command may speak now.” You wait for a long moment. This is a democratic process after all, and you want to provide the opportunity for differing opinions to be voiced." From a cage. “Those who wish would honor me by accepting my captaincy, may begin fucking the slaves.” There is a massive round of “ayes'' and three moans of despair. Bellextra seems like she could have gone either way.

You wave Mak’leth over. “You’re in charge of tallying the votes. I want a fair and open voting process. And if you suspect anyone is committing voting fraud, lock them up with the slaves.” He nods enthusiastically as a Mynta’s striped cock penetrates Swanna’s womanhood.

Your two slaves nuzzle against you as you watch the scene play out. Lines and ques form to fuck each of the slaves in turn. As the pirates grow tired of one tie, they switch to another. The Oo’lick **** boi is locked in stocks after a while so his heiney cherry can be popped. Unfortunately for him, Makleth is the one who pops it; that Gavleth's cock is proportionate to his arms. After a thorough flogging and no less than three sentients have cummed inside her, Swanna is tied face up on a table with her legs spread wide and her hair tied to the floor so her mouth is perpetually at crotch level. A kinky redhead smothers her face while another pirate shoves his cock up her ass. Disappointed at the lack of available holes, a Gavleth female grabs a flogger and a cane and takes out her frustrations on the former officer's tits. The Bantam gets to stay in her rack, but instead of having her arms splayed, her wrists are cuffed to her ankles so she bends over the central pole, and is moaning lustfully as another crew member takes her from behind. Of all of the slaves, Bellextra seems to be enjoying herself the most. Some lucky lady has leashed her by her balls, and is pulling the **** into a very soggy slit, while behind her a rather runty looking pirate is taking her. “YOU THINK I’D FORGET YOU BITCH! NO ONE GETS THE BETTER OF JENKINS! NOBODY!” What a curious man, but you have to admire his enthusiasm.

Nothing revs your engine like a BDSM orgy so you allow yourself to have some fun while the votes are tallied. A few quick prods with an electric baton get your slaves unzipping your flightsuit with their teeth, giving you free access to play with your excited snatch as you watch Swanna lets loose a six inch spray under the merciless **** of a vibrator from the many armed Gavleth. Soon, your slaves are on their knees before you, taking turns lapping at the ambrosia flowing freely from your nethers. Softly you moan as the poor Oo’lick's shaft is bound tightly so he can only dry orgasm as sadistic pirates tease him relentlessly . Inspiration dawns on you as a Rey-la gets her ass and pussy serviced by the Bantam and Swanna receptively; you guide your slaves to double service you. Alexa whimpers pitifully, having gotten the bottom assignment, but you care not. Afterall, this ship is your domain now. Pending the votes of course.

Hours later, after Melodia and Alexa have brought you to many happy orgasms, you call upon Makleth. “What's the final tally of the vote?”

“Fifty-seven for, and 17 against. Captain.”

You do a quick head count. “Makleth, there aren’t more than two dozen of us here. And there are only four slaves. Explain yourself.”

“Aye Captain. I gave everyone a vote for each orgasm.”

"Hmm..." You look around. The slaves all slump in their respective bonds, cum covered messes all. Swanna and the two pirates' eyes roll into their eyes. Bellextra on the other hand seems quite eager to continue, and wiggles her ass against a tattooed pirate. "Makleth, while I applaud your imitative and decision making skills, I don't want there to be any doubt about the results of this election. " Especially since at least half of the ballots has already been drunk by the losing side. "I think we need a recount. Just to be sure."

Makleth's grin is only matched by the look of horror on Swanna's face. "Aye captain!"