New Mary Sue ficlet, this time tied in to Kink Bingo
Okay, I changed the Robot Chicken vid from f---ing machines to mechanical/technological. There's a difference between creative interpretation and compliance to the Bingo Wiki classifications. I don't have a mech/tech square on my second card, so it'll have to be the free square.
Since I still want to do masters/doms/slaves/subs, this means I'll be doing a line that has verbal humiliation again. Speaking of having a kink for verbal humiliation in Mary Sue stories, here is a new one for the occasion.
Fandom: Original characters in the DS9 universe.
Pairings: OFC/OMC (Starfleet cadet/Cardassian soldier)
Rating: Adult
Contains: Noncon, forced prostitution, verbal humiliation, victim-shaming, begging, biting, bondage, reference to ritual suicide.
Word Count: 1,625
A/N: If you've been following my shameless Mary Sue installments, this scene happens after Makor gives up on Karin and sells her into a brothel (which hasn't been posted yet). If you haven't, all you need to know is there is a Starfleet cadet who has been abducted and sold into a Cardassian brothel.
The fifth-sixth?-one comes in while she's still recovering from the last. He must have asked to have her freshly used and dirty. She doesn't bother to wonder why. He stands just inside the doorway and takes a long look at her, lying there on the rumpled bed with her arms still stretched out to her sides and her wrists cuffed to the bedposts, her knees still pulled wide and tied back to the same posts, the cloth gag still stuffed in her mouth. It doesn't matter how many people look at her like this; she wants to cover herself and hide her face as much as the first time. Her hip twitches under this latest assessment, but all she can do is narrow her eyes at him as he approaches.
He's not much of a talker at first. He makes a vaguely approving sound before stripping and climbing onto the bed with her. He's fairly young, she thinks. Maybe five years older than she is. He kneels between her legs and touches her there where she's wet and probably half-open. His fingers dip in, then push. She doesn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction beyond clenching her bound thighs.
His gaze wanders over her body as he strokes himself with his other hand. Belly, breasts, neck, the hair at her armpits, back down to his fingers in her. A predictable pattern by now. He still hasn't looked her in the eye by the time he smoothes on a condom and slicks it up with the lubricant left open on the sheets from before.
She shuts her eyes and takes a slow breath through her nose when he pushes in. At least there wasn't much foreplay to endure.
It's… fine, for the first several minutes. He doesn't hit her or choke her or call her filthy slurs, doesn't force her to look in his eyes as he rapes her. He's a little rough, enough that she has to work to brace herself against the force of his thrusts. It's just that he keeps going. And going. She's having trouble getting enough air.
"Yes," the man says after a while. His hands have migrated to her waist, warm and firm. "Yes. Take it."
A little while after that: "You feel that? You like that?"
She stares past his shoulder as he shoves her again and again into the mattress. Her hands have become fists.
"You want more?"
She flinches when he raises a hand to the side of her face, but then he strips the saliva- and sweat-damp gag out of her mouth and she takes a huge breath.
She wonders why he did it. Is he going to stick his fingers in there and make her suck on them? Or is he planning to finish in her mouth?
The answer comes when he says, "Beg me."
She would laugh in disbelief if she weren't so busy trying to catch her breath and keep her head from knocking into the bed frame as his thrusts grow more powerful. She says nothing.
He slaps her. She fails to fully stifle her gasp, lets her head rest on the side where it falls.
"I said, beg me," he says.
She doesn't move.
"Humans," he says. "Such a proud race. Such a proud little girl. What are you so proud of, lying here getting fucked loose by a Cardassian? You have no clothes, no identity, no dignity. You exist for our use. There is no one here to absolve you of your shame."
Her face has gone red, and not just from the mark his hand left. She can feel it. Still, she stays silent.
"You are nothing but a slave of the basest kind. You allowed yourself to be captured and whored out to anyone who walks into this room."
She blinks against the sting of that last insult and hopes he doesn't notice. He's right. She'll never forgive herself for falling into this nightmare.
"If you were a Klingon, you would have found a way by now to end your life and your dishonor," he goes on. "Instead you lie there and let me fuck you, as others have done before me and will do after. So you must like it. You must like having your grott filled with Cardassian pricks. You might as well say it."
She wants to deny it out loud, point to the cuffs and the ropes and the staff outside with their phasers and their threats, but that would only be letting him win. Her face is still hot.
He fists her hair and tugs her head back to make her look at him. She struggles to keep her expression even. His thrusts, though slowing now, are getting more uncomfortable as the lubricant gets tackier.
"Beg me," he says again. "Beg me to spill my seed in you. Beg me to use you for my pleasure until you can't deny your own anymore. Ask nicely, and I may let you have your own release when I'm finished."
Oh, how kind of you, she thinks. She sets her jaw.
He leans in close. With his hand still tight in her hair, she can't lift up to bite him. "Do it," he murmurs. His breath is hot in her face. "Or I will make this painful."
Fear stirs in her chest. Fighting it, she glares up at him. "No."
Without releasing her hair, he repositions himself so he can suck in a mouthful of her breast. She has enough time to make a confused face before his tongue gives way to his teeth and he bites down. Hard.
She jerks. His fist tightens. Involuntary tears spring to her eyes, but she still doesn't say anything. She can't. It's stupid; it's simple; it's nothing; but she can't bring herself to do it.
She squirms under his hold, until soon enough the pain subsides into a pulsing numbness. He lets up, glances up at her.
"Not good enough, hm?" he asks, and takes a break from biting her to better brace himself. His next thrust can't be called anything but vicious. She gasps. A pause, and then another thrust, hard and thick and rough with friction, burning all the way up and surely bruising her cervix. Her head rocks in his grip; her cuffs rattle.
This time when he dips his head, he bites into her nipple.
She keens. She can't help it. It feels like he's going to bite it right off. She bucks, but he's relentless in all three places where they're touching.
"Please," she moans. Her pride isn't worth this.
He lifts his head, and she sags with relief to see that her flesh is whole, if mottled purple and bloodless pale from the abuse. "Please what?"
"Stop. Please stop."
Another pair of thrusts sends her rocking back with a wince. Her sore nipple protests. He says, "Not quite."
She takes an unsteady breath and tries for a compromise. "Please finish?"
"More." His pupils are big, and he's breathing heavier now. "What will I do before this is over?"
"Come in me," she says dutifully. "Use me." She thinks about saying more with heavy sarcasm, please fill my greedy cunt with your virile Cardassian manhood, sir. Then she thinks about the bite and how he's likely to react to mocking with more than a slap and a nip, and she stops there.
His thrusts have gone erratic. "Now ask me nicely."
It doesn't matter, she tells herself. It doesn't mean anything.
"Please fuck me until you've had your fill." It doesn't matter. She doesn't mean it. This isn't connected to her.
"That's right," he says. "Because you're what?"
What is he looking for now? It's hard to think with him pounding into her. "A sex slave." Technically, it's true.
"What else?" He's growing breathless.
"A… human?" She's past breathless herself.
"What else?"
"I don't-I don't know."
"Precisely," he says. "Because you are nothing."
Something in her surges up in protest. She struggles anew beneath him.
He grabs her hair even harder than before, but before either of them can say anything more, he orgasms with a hoarse noise and a final few uneven shoves.
They stay there, breathing hard. Her scalp burns where he's gripping her. Her nipple burns. It burns between her legs.
"Say it," he demands, calmer but still solid inside her. "You're nothing."
"I'm not-nothing."
He jerks her head back and she hisses. "I paid for an hour only," he says. "Now I'm considering staying for a second round."
She closes her eyes. Breathes.
"N-nothing," she says quietly. "I'm nothing."
For some reason, it's harder to detach this time.
"Was that so hard," he says, and it's not even a question. He lets go of her hair, pulls out of her and gets off the bed. She shoots glances over at him while he dresses, but he doesn't say anything more. He doesn't even look at her as he finishes fastening his boots and walks out the door.
She waits for the staff to come in to let her down and clean her up. So that the next one can have her, can do whatever he wants to her, because fighting is not working, just as her new captors warned her. She lies spread open and aching on the bed, waiting, and tries not to think about what she just did. Tries not to think at all, but that's too much like thinking about nothing. She's not nothing. She's not. She's a person. She's a Starfleet cadet, and she's going to get out of this. They'll see.
Still, mixed in with all the anger and terror and pain, there's an uneasiness in her chest that wasn't there before.
Since I still want to do masters/doms/slaves/subs, this means I'll be doing a line that has verbal humiliation again. Speaking of having a kink for verbal humiliation in Mary Sue stories, here is a new one for the occasion.
Fandom: Original characters in the DS9 universe.
Pairings: OFC/OMC (Starfleet cadet/Cardassian soldier)
Rating: Adult
Contains: Noncon, forced prostitution, verbal humiliation, victim-shaming, begging, biting, bondage, reference to ritual suicide.
Word Count: 1,625
A/N: If you've been following my shameless Mary Sue installments, this scene happens after Makor gives up on Karin and sells her into a brothel (which hasn't been posted yet). If you haven't, all you need to know is there is a Starfleet cadet who has been abducted and sold into a Cardassian brothel.
The fifth-sixth?-one comes in while she's still recovering from the last. He must have asked to have her freshly used and dirty. She doesn't bother to wonder why. He stands just inside the doorway and takes a long look at her, lying there on the rumpled bed with her arms still stretched out to her sides and her wrists cuffed to the bedposts, her knees still pulled wide and tied back to the same posts, the cloth gag still stuffed in her mouth. It doesn't matter how many people look at her like this; she wants to cover herself and hide her face as much as the first time. Her hip twitches under this latest assessment, but all she can do is narrow her eyes at him as he approaches.
He's not much of a talker at first. He makes a vaguely approving sound before stripping and climbing onto the bed with her. He's fairly young, she thinks. Maybe five years older than she is. He kneels between her legs and touches her there where she's wet and probably half-open. His fingers dip in, then push. She doesn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction beyond clenching her bound thighs.
His gaze wanders over her body as he strokes himself with his other hand. Belly, breasts, neck, the hair at her armpits, back down to his fingers in her. A predictable pattern by now. He still hasn't looked her in the eye by the time he smoothes on a condom and slicks it up with the lubricant left open on the sheets from before.
She shuts her eyes and takes a slow breath through her nose when he pushes in. At least there wasn't much foreplay to endure.
It's… fine, for the first several minutes. He doesn't hit her or choke her or call her filthy slurs, doesn't force her to look in his eyes as he rapes her. He's a little rough, enough that she has to work to brace herself against the force of his thrusts. It's just that he keeps going. And going. She's having trouble getting enough air.
"Yes," the man says after a while. His hands have migrated to her waist, warm and firm. "Yes. Take it."
A little while after that: "You feel that? You like that?"
She stares past his shoulder as he shoves her again and again into the mattress. Her hands have become fists.
"You want more?"
She flinches when he raises a hand to the side of her face, but then he strips the saliva- and sweat-damp gag out of her mouth and she takes a huge breath.
She wonders why he did it. Is he going to stick his fingers in there and make her suck on them? Or is he planning to finish in her mouth?
The answer comes when he says, "Beg me."
She would laugh in disbelief if she weren't so busy trying to catch her breath and keep her head from knocking into the bed frame as his thrusts grow more powerful. She says nothing.
He slaps her. She fails to fully stifle her gasp, lets her head rest on the side where it falls.
"I said, beg me," he says.
She doesn't move.
"Humans," he says. "Such a proud race. Such a proud little girl. What are you so proud of, lying here getting fucked loose by a Cardassian? You have no clothes, no identity, no dignity. You exist for our use. There is no one here to absolve you of your shame."
Her face has gone red, and not just from the mark his hand left. She can feel it. Still, she stays silent.
"You are nothing but a slave of the basest kind. You allowed yourself to be captured and whored out to anyone who walks into this room."
She blinks against the sting of that last insult and hopes he doesn't notice. He's right. She'll never forgive herself for falling into this nightmare.
"If you were a Klingon, you would have found a way by now to end your life and your dishonor," he goes on. "Instead you lie there and let me fuck you, as others have done before me and will do after. So you must like it. You must like having your grott filled with Cardassian pricks. You might as well say it."
She wants to deny it out loud, point to the cuffs and the ropes and the staff outside with their phasers and their threats, but that would only be letting him win. Her face is still hot.
He fists her hair and tugs her head back to make her look at him. She struggles to keep her expression even. His thrusts, though slowing now, are getting more uncomfortable as the lubricant gets tackier.
"Beg me," he says again. "Beg me to spill my seed in you. Beg me to use you for my pleasure until you can't deny your own anymore. Ask nicely, and I may let you have your own release when I'm finished."
Oh, how kind of you, she thinks. She sets her jaw.
He leans in close. With his hand still tight in her hair, she can't lift up to bite him. "Do it," he murmurs. His breath is hot in her face. "Or I will make this painful."
Fear stirs in her chest. Fighting it, she glares up at him. "No."
Without releasing her hair, he repositions himself so he can suck in a mouthful of her breast. She has enough time to make a confused face before his tongue gives way to his teeth and he bites down. Hard.
She jerks. His fist tightens. Involuntary tears spring to her eyes, but she still doesn't say anything. She can't. It's stupid; it's simple; it's nothing; but she can't bring herself to do it.
She squirms under his hold, until soon enough the pain subsides into a pulsing numbness. He lets up, glances up at her.
"Not good enough, hm?" he asks, and takes a break from biting her to better brace himself. His next thrust can't be called anything but vicious. She gasps. A pause, and then another thrust, hard and thick and rough with friction, burning all the way up and surely bruising her cervix. Her head rocks in his grip; her cuffs rattle.
This time when he dips his head, he bites into her nipple.
She keens. She can't help it. It feels like he's going to bite it right off. She bucks, but he's relentless in all three places where they're touching.
"Please," she moans. Her pride isn't worth this.
He lifts his head, and she sags with relief to see that her flesh is whole, if mottled purple and bloodless pale from the abuse. "Please what?"
"Stop. Please stop."
Another pair of thrusts sends her rocking back with a wince. Her sore nipple protests. He says, "Not quite."
She takes an unsteady breath and tries for a compromise. "Please finish?"
"More." His pupils are big, and he's breathing heavier now. "What will I do before this is over?"
"Come in me," she says dutifully. "Use me." She thinks about saying more with heavy sarcasm, please fill my greedy cunt with your virile Cardassian manhood, sir. Then she thinks about the bite and how he's likely to react to mocking with more than a slap and a nip, and she stops there.
His thrusts have gone erratic. "Now ask me nicely."
It doesn't matter, she tells herself. It doesn't mean anything.
"Please fuck me until you've had your fill." It doesn't matter. She doesn't mean it. This isn't connected to her.
"That's right," he says. "Because you're what?"
What is he looking for now? It's hard to think with him pounding into her. "A sex slave." Technically, it's true.
"What else?" He's growing breathless.
"A… human?" She's past breathless herself.
"What else?"
"I don't-I don't know."
"Precisely," he says. "Because you are nothing."
Something in her surges up in protest. She struggles anew beneath him.
He grabs her hair even harder than before, but before either of them can say anything more, he orgasms with a hoarse noise and a final few uneven shoves.
They stay there, breathing hard. Her scalp burns where he's gripping her. Her nipple burns. It burns between her legs.
"Say it," he demands, calmer but still solid inside her. "You're nothing."
"I'm not-nothing."
He jerks her head back and she hisses. "I paid for an hour only," he says. "Now I'm considering staying for a second round."
She closes her eyes. Breathes.
"N-nothing," she says quietly. "I'm nothing."
For some reason, it's harder to detach this time.
"Was that so hard," he says, and it's not even a question. He lets go of her hair, pulls out of her and gets off the bed. She shoots glances over at him while he dresses, but he doesn't say anything more. He doesn't even look at her as he finishes fastening his boots and walks out the door.
She waits for the staff to come in to let her down and clean her up. So that the next one can have her, can do whatever he wants to her, because fighting is not working, just as her new captors warned her. She lies spread open and aching on the bed, waiting, and tries not to think about what she just did. Tries not to think at all, but that's too much like thinking about nothing. She's not nothing. She's not. She's a person. She's a Starfleet cadet, and she's going to get out of this. They'll see.
Still, mixed in with all the anger and terror and pain, there's an uneasiness in her chest that wasn't there before.