Naked and alone the Fury sat in her cell, kneeling, hands resting on her thighs. Funny, thought Kaster, she was a slave and didn’t know it. Her asana meditative posture was nearly identical to a slave’s. Because the Fury’s considered it a meditative state, she would never have realized how similar the two postures were.

Kaster enjoyed watching her through the cameras in the cell. She had no privacy at all. Especially after leaving her robes with him. The only thing she wore now was the shock collar he’d placed on her. She would eye the camera, attempting to reach out to him. He ignored all her efforts.

It was enough to know he’d been her first. There’d been no hymen to break which hadn’t surprised him. The way she’d fought and flipped through the air, he knew it had been a victim of the acrobatic regiment Fury’s trained in. He’d considered having her again, but there was no point. He’d brought her to womanhood in as shameful a way as possible. Worse still it had been at the hands of another Fury like herself. Although one that had not been trained in her dead religious ways. They’d always be linked, when she would think of him in the future, it wouldn’t be about losing the Blade fight. It would be about how he shamed her and made her want that shaming.

On the third day, she began tapping on the wall. It took him a while to realize it wasn’t just a nervous habit but an effort to communicate. It took the library a few minutes to recognize and translate some ancient tongue called Morse.

“Where are you taking me?” she tapped in several variations.

Flipping on the mic he spoke, “There’s a bounty on your head. You’ll spend the rest of your days in Coalition slavery. Don’t bother talking, I’m not listening to your voice. Your Fury mind tricks won’t find fertile ground with me.”

He ignored most of her tapped messages. Where had he been trained, why was he doing this, who did he work for… all boring.

“When did you drop out?” she tapped.

Kaster laughed. The greatest warriors and intellects of our time? She was assuming so much.

“I do enjoy watching you now that you are naked. I would have never guessed you had such phenomenal tits under those robes.” He teased, trying to get a rise out of her and knowing he probably never would. “Full, firm, with hard nubby nipples perfect for playing with for hours. I should have abused those sweater puppets more when I was fucking you. But what can I say, I was hungry for the main course. Anyway, milk-bangers… What makes you think I had any training?”

She tapped out a long response about his style, that his emotional outbursts may be contrary to Fury training, but his skill with the Blade and Focus control could have only been taught by a Fury Maester. He admired her tenacity. She was still hoping some trick might be able to turn things around. Sadly, he would collect his bounty, and she would become a prestige slave for some warlord wanting to brag that he was banging a fallen Fury.

Midway through the trip, Kaster considered bringing her out of the cage for another round. But she was just so dull. Meditating, saying mantras, and asking the most boring questions. The thought of a good old-fashioned hate fuck crossed his mind, but with her, not even that excited him. He yearned to be hunting again. Tracking down prey. The thrill of confrontation. Always wondering if they would fight or run. And that animalistic thrill that filled him when they did either.

By the fifth day he knew he could stop her tapping by asking sex questions. If she enjoyed their first time together, if her first time was everything she’d imagined, and if she was excited to become nothing more than holes for other’s pleasures for the rest of her life. She would go quiet, and into her meditation lotus pose. Underneath it though, he could feel tickles of hatred. If she would only feed those emotions, she might discover an escape. Pliant, quiet, and meditative would not work.

The last few days passed slowly. When he touched down on Yirlante, he was all too happy to open her cell door with a gag and blindfold in hand. He reached out with his Focus, reading her intentions, and was disappointed when she didn’t fight. He shoved the gag in her mouth and tightened while she looked pleadingly into his eyes.

“Sorry D-cups, you’ve already been paid for.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears as he slipped the blindfold on her. She’d still be able to see in a sense. But it would require her to split her Focus up, fragment her powers, and she knew it. There’d be no more trouble from her, she was saving her strength to escape later.

Poor thing. He almost felt sorry for her. Once she was implanted, and fitted with Binds, there’d be nothing left to attempt escape. A lifetime of stoicism would come unwoven, and she would feel, or be forced to feel, emotions that had been turned off for so long. In a year's time, he guessed she’d be little more than a happy slave girl eager to prostrate and dry humper herself on anyone her master pointed her toward.

He cuffed her hands behind her back, locked her in high heels, then clipped a chain to her collar. Blind and hobbled she’d have a very tough time fighting even a librarian. He led her from the ship. Just as expected, even without sight, she was able to keep up and avoid tripping remarkably well.

She did struggle a bit with the heels. It was obvious she’d never worn anything like them in her life. Within the span of a dozen meters, she figured out just how to sway her hips, how to place one foot in front of the other to move smoothly and gracefully. He rewarded her by sharing a vision of what the shoes did to her legs, how the starport crew all stopped to lust for her swaying bare ass.

He approached a row of air-cabs and asked the first driver, “Can you take me to Hol Vydon’s Palace?”

“You have clearance for that?” the cabby asked.

“I do.” Kaster said, “You aren’t indebted, are you?”

“No, sir. I don’t play in that league. Watch your step, sir.”

The cabby took a few liberties helping get Indy-Ra into the vehicle. Kaster said nothing, she was property now.

The ride was direct and short across the top of a megapolis of sprawling but stubby buildings. Many of the streets below were unpaved, a luxury only the wealthy could afford in Coalition space. And Kaster was on his way to see one of the wealthiest: Hol Vydon, warlord, crime boss, and de facto government in the Coalition, where votes were counted in blaster shots.

Kaster explained to Vydon’s majordomo that he’d captured the Hol’s quarry and was here to deliver her. The majordomo gave a gracious bow and left Kaster in the expansive receiving room with a half dozen other sentients, all waiting to do business.

With little to do but wait, Kaster set Indy-Ra standing in a corner. He shared his view of her with her and enjoyed the trickle of humiliation that was returned. He knew she could see herself through his eyes. Her firm muscular ass, bound hands concealing nothing, on heels that stretched the shape of her legs. It was such a delicious sight that a leather-skinned Umorg approached.

“Your slave, I’d pay handsomely for a small sample.”

“And I would gladly sell you her services.” Kaster watched the short, bloated alien lick its lips in anticipation, “But I cannot… This is Hol Vydon’s property.”

Kaster could feel the humiliation radiating off Indy-Ra. A lifetime of reverence and difference to now be so casually talked about like an object to be bartered and passed around.

“A shame,” the Umorg continued, “to make her blush as so. Intoxicating.”

“I’m sure the Hol will have many a delightful evening wearing her in.” Kaster said while broadcasting the view of a crimson flush creeping down from Indy-Ra’s neck.

“As would I.” the Umorg went back to his waiting, eyeing the naked slave in the corner.

“Hunter Kaster,” the majordomo approached. “Fortune smiles with you today. My lord, Hol Vydon, is eager to audience. He will see you in his pleasure den. One thing… please address the Hol as ‘My Lord.’ If you would follow me.”

Kaster followed with Indy-Ra close at heel. Even blindfolded she navigated the sweeping stairs up to the second level with ease. Her mastery of the awkward shoes was complete, she moved as if she’d always worn them.

The majordomo opened a set of wide double doors adorned with relief figures in every sexual union possible, including many alien appendages. As they entered, the sound of a lash whisking through the air, the snap of it against skin, and an accompanying cry could be heard.

The pleasure den was a vast room, easily able to hold six parked air-cars. Along its side were the torture devices of dozens of species. At the far end was a swimming pool of bed, circled by thick binding rings and hanging chains. To one side of the bed was the mother of all chairs. A throne suitable for the Emperor of the galaxy, if such a thing ever did or could exist.

Hol Vydon sat watching as one slave delivered lashes across another slave’s backside. The two women bowed and scurried to one side of the chair, joining four other naked women all kneeling. He was a large man, two meters tall at least, and nearly two hundred kilos. Several weightlifters could fit in his skin with ease. He eyed Kaster and his captive as they approached. Two large brooding men with disruptor rifles stood behind the Hol’s chair in dark armor, both had the eyes of murderers.

“So, this is the Fury cunt that’s caused me so much grief?” Vydon said in a low throaty voice. He rubbed a great fist across multiple chins.

Kaster replied, “This is the Fury Indy-Ra. I’m here to claim her bounty.”

“Yes, yes.” Vydon said, “You captured her alone?”

“I had help,” Kaster said, only partially lying. Many people had given him info leading to her, they’d all helped in their own ways. “But, I am the only one here to collect.”

“But she did not surrender willingly?”

“No, my lord. We crossed Blades.”

“Crossed Blades?” Vydon said with a meaty chuckle. “How is that possible?”

Kaster swept his robe back showing the pommels of two WaveBlades. He reached for hers, and the guards immediately brought up their rifles. Kaster froze lifting his left hand in submission, “For you, lord. The captured Blade of a Fury.”

He unclipped her Blade and tossed it to Vydon as the murderers watched through gunsights.

The Hol turned the pommel in his hands, “This is an unexpected treasure. And here I was thinking I’d have to stitch her back together if anyone were able to capture her. To think a Rogue Fury would bring her to me.” His guards lowered their rifles, but their eyes burned with an eagerness to use them.

“I am no Fury. I spit on their ways.” Kaster said with a snarl.

The warlord eyed him, then nodded, “Your ways are your own. You’ve brought me my prize and more. I commend you on accomplishing the impossible.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“And did you… sample her?”

“I am a man. And as you can see, she had little to say in the manner.”

Vydon laughed heartily, “Oh I would give another bounty to have seen that. This haughty cunt, spread and stuffed. Don’t worry yourself bitch, I’ll be enjoying that soon enough as well.”

Kaster had the videos from his ship but said nothing.

“Syrakk! Pay this man. Full bounty and… a bonus.”

Kaster bowed deeply, glad that there seemed to be no trouble with the payment.

“One more thing,” Vydor said in a low voice.

The ominous tone made Kaster clench, ready for betrayal.

“Do you think you can repeat the task? Bring another Fury to heel?”

Kaster looked straight into the huge warlord's eyes. This was the type of hunt he’d always yearned for.

“If the price is right…” he said.

First:

Rogue Fury – Part 1