Polarisian Multiverse Bk 02 Ch 02

Polarian Multiverse Book 2, Ch. 2 - The Harem

Thea awakens and is prepared for her new role

Darkness, almost absolute, the only light a hint of less darkness to one side. Close space, almost like being in a box, large enough to stretch out comfortably while reclining, but not high enough to sit up. Smooth fabric, like raw silk, underneath me.

As I felt the edges of the box, they seemed to be barred, but the bars were heavily padded with more of the same fabric. Despite the close space, it was not stuffy; there must have been ventilation from somewhere, though I could detect no breeze. As I slid slowly around, as much as I could with hands and feet bound and a gag in my mouth, exploring the limits, I heard soft noise approaching.

Suddenly, light. A curtain was slid aside, and strong hands pulled what was indeed a barred box out of a wall and carried it to a platform/table in a large room. The top of the box was raised, and the sides unhinged from each other, dropping to bang down the sides of the table. The two large men who carried it stepped back, leaving a third standing looking at me closely.

He was wearing what I thought of as desert attire, loose pantaloons and a vest with his chest bare underneath. He was wiry and had dark tan skin, with close-cropped hair and a short beard. As he reached out and ran a hand down my arm, I realized, despite the touch of cloth on my back and around my ankles and wrists, I was naked.

Just as that sank in, he removed my gag and offered me a small glass of liquid. My mouth was dry, and I drank it gratefully, something light and both sweet and tart, wonderful moisture in my mouth. I opened my mouth to thank him, hoping the language here was similar to the rest of Polaris I'd seen, but nothing came out. I tried again, with no more success, when I felt his hand under my chin, closing my mouth. He ran a finger across my closed lips, tapped them, and smiled. I tried to speak again, but his expression changed, becoming serious, and he lightly cuffed the side of my cheek, closing my mouth again, shaking his head.

His hands dropped then, to my shoulders, lying me back and stretching me out. He started examining me thoroughly, running his hands down my arms and legs, and then moving to my breasts. In panic, I tried to twist away, only to be jerked back harshly and feel a stinging slap delivered to my exposed flank. The two assistants returned, one pinning my shoulders flat, the other reaching for my feet. Fear was rising in my throat, and I continued to try to fight, despite the blows that met each twist and turn. My feet were caught, and once held, the bonds were removed and my legs were pulled apart.

I tried to scream, but no sound. My sobs were ragged gasps as burning hands ran over my pinned body. As I submitted to being held down, realizing I could not pull free, I was no longer hit, and as that sank in, I made myself lie still, despite the continued caressing. The feeling indeed got gentler as I relaxed into wariness rather than combat. As hands tested the firmness of my muscles and the tautness of my skin, I saw the men look on appreciatively and speak to one another what sounded like compliments.

The hands holding me loosened, but I lay still, not wanting to be hurt again. The servant at my feet departed, returning soon with a dark wood box. Opening it, he extended it to the vested man, who withdrew a collar of gold filigree. As he lifted my head and hair, I felt it fasten with a small click, a band about my throat about two inches wide that looked like gold lace but of much greater strength. I raised a hand to it tentatively, and felt it; I could find no catch. It was smooth all around except for two small loops standing out.

My hand was removed from my neck, and a similar band was closed about my wrist. Smaller in diameter, it was broader in width, perhaps three inches. Again, once fastened, there was no perceptible clasp, just a single soldered-on loop. The process was repeated three more times, on the other wrist and on each ankle. The metal was cool at first, but slowly warmed to my skin.

The slave master, for so I was starting to think of him already, produced two gold clips, and moving one loop of the neck collar to my nape, fastened my wrist bands there, so my hands were pinned behind my head. The other loop was at my throat, and he fastened a light chain to that - a leash. Steadying me, since I couldn't use my own hands to do so, he guided me off of the table to my feet, then walked off, leading me after him by the leash.

I felt exposed again, unable to hide with my hands raised as they were, lifting my breasts forward. I followed him through an arch in one wall, into a very large room. The walls were of mosaic tiles rather than marble. There were two bubbling pools set in the floor, each about ten feet across, with steps leading into them. Circling those pools was a circular track of water, about as wide as two swimming lanes, with a low arched bridge leading over it to the center pools.

It was in here that I saw someone other than the slave master and his two assistants. There were two women swimming around the loop, naked in the water, watched by a single man who was dressed like the assistants I had seen before. Through the water I thought I saw the flash of gold on their limbs as they swam. But I was not allowed to linger. I was led through a glass door into a burning hot room paneled in pale wood, a dry sauna. There I was made to lie down on a towel-draped bench, and the leash was locked to a ring in the wall. A wet cloth was draped over my face, and I heard the master leave.

Alone for the first time since awakening here, I tried to sort out what was happening. I remembered Bonney shooting the killer in the back hall of the theater, and going to my dressing room to wait for him. I dropped the cloak on the floor there, wanting to get it and the blood on it away from me. I had stood before my mirror, hands on the makeup table, head down while I caught my breath. I felt a light prick on the side on my neck at almost the same instant the room went dark, and I felt myself sliding into someone's grasp.

I awoke here - wherever that was. Not Texas where I'd come from, nor any part of Polaris I'd yet seen. But I already knew how multifaceted Polaris could be, and I just hoped this was a dimension still connected to that city. Hoped that Bonney could come after me.

I obviously was not an honored guest here. I had been thinking in terms of the one man as "slave master" and realized that I was indeed being treated as ... a slave. Speaking was discouraged, and indeed, I seemed unable to physically do so. The men had been interested in my body, both how it looked and how it reacted. Now free from the sting of their blows, I realized they had been taking pleasure if the effect of the blows on my body as well as to punish me for trying to avoid them. It seemed likely that I should expect more of such treatment in the future.

Independent as I was, I was less than thrilled with the situation. Yet somehow I knew I both had what they wanted, and that I could operate within their system - for a while. I thought again of Bonney, and my whole being tingled, as it had when the sweat broke out on my skin once the heat overcame the chill of the marble. I remembered the sweetness of being held by him, of the touch of his lips on mine, of the feeling of him thrusting deeply inside me.

I remembered the time we first made love, when he shaved my pussy and exposed my flesh to the sensitivity of the air. And now there were others who were obviously intrigued by the bare skin there. Other hands. I lost the tingle, because their touch had brought no pleasure. But they were what I had to survive. What would it take to do that?

Playing be their rules. Which meant putting the past - and Bonney - aside, for now. It would hurt too much to keep hoping to see him or think of him when others used me. As the sweat slid down my body and was absorbed by the white towel under my back, I let myself sink into the heat, concentrating on the sensations of my body, making myself ignore the memories brushing around me, making myself forget Polaris, making myself push the thought of Bonney so deep that no one else could find it.

I was drenched when they removed me from the sauna, sweat running down between my breasts and tracing its way through the folds of flesh around my clit and pussy. I could feel the breezes in the room circling my neck as my bound fingers lifted my hair from the nape. I was led over the little bridge, and guided down the steps to one pool. The water was warm, hot even, but felt quite comfortable after the sauna. Using the slack in the leash, I dunked my head and flipped my hair back before settling on the bench around the sides. Again, the leash was fastened so I could not leave alone.

The respite in the pool was shorter, but I was still so relaxed as to almost feel sleepy when they led me out. Back outside the swimming track, close to one of the walls, a hook was pulled down from the ceiling. My hands were unhooked from my neck, though still fastened together, and were raised so that I stood at full stretch from the hook, just slack enough that I didn't have to go on my toes.

A hose was lowered from the ceiling, with a nozzle at the end, and I found myself being thoroughly washed - cleansed almost seemed a better word. I felt hands all over, in and out of every nook and cranny. My hair was washed and rinsed several times, combed out with each rinse. Gel scented like oranges was lathered over my limbs and torso, with suds running down my ribs and bubbles hanging on the point of my nipples. I tried to close my legs as the hands went between them, but was smacked smartly on my ass.

Trembling, I made myself hold my legs apart as the bare-skinned folds were washed and rinsed, inside and out. I couldn't help but jerk in protest when the hands moved to my ass itself and fingers started probing there. I felt a lash that time, and my ankles chained to the floor, holding my feet down and apart. As tears ran down my cheeks silently, I felt the fingers insinuate themselves, working in water and soap, until they slid in and out with little resistance. Finally, a small tip was put on the hose and the soap was rinsed until the water ran clean from the hole.

I was dried with warm towels that smelled like they had been dried in fresh air. The leash was tugged again, and I returned to the room that I had first seen. I was tethered to a ceiling hook again, standing displayed as the slave master returned and walked around examining me. At last he stopped behind me, and I felt his hands run down my back.

As they returned again and again, I thought they felt slick, as though there were lotion on them. His hands moved up, caressing the nape of my neck, around to my throat, then tracing my face, the width of my forehead, the flutter of my eyebrows, the angles of my cheeks.

I found myself hypnotized by the touch, growing warm under the attention, feeling myself becoming aroused and wet, leaning toward the hands as they covered me, desiring the erotic liquid sensations they were creating. I became like a single nerve, seeking and sensitized to sexual pleasure, less than conscious thought, just a body and a response.