Anasi smiled and stepped toward the door, which was only recognizable as a door by the outline of the clean white material, and a sign that said ‘closet’ in Pratean script, which Lana was able to decipher because it was picture-based.
Anasi held his hand in front of the door in the center, and the door itself seemed to dissolve. The small area behind it lit up with the same blue light that framed the window. Inside, a single clothing item hung from a hook. It was silky and white, the size of a tunic.
Lana gave Anasi a look and saw that he was gesturing at the item. She removed it hesitantly and tried not to react to the incredible feeling of the material between her fingers. Her mouth fell open as the silkiness caressed her fingertips. When she slipped the material over her head, she tried to feign indifference to the raw erotic pleasure it gave her.
Anasi, who Lana was noticing just then was wearing a more masculine tunic of the same material, smiled knowingly. “It’s fantastic,” he said. “I was enslaved after living on an outpost in the moon rings of Junora.”
Lana’s eyes lowered in recognition of the universally well-known conditions of the moon people of Junora, who had succumbed to the Imperial Realm after years of battles.
She had a ton of questions for Anasi about his previous life, but none of them were as important as the one she actually asked him.
“You talk about enslavement like you got some kind of... I don’t know, promotion,” she seethed, her hands still running over her tunic-encased figure. The sensation was almost excruciatingly pleasant. The fabric almost felt warm.
Anasi smiled. “When I arrived, I was like you,” he explained. “I thought enslavement to the Imperial Realm was a terrible thing, and I was determined to fight against it at all odds.”
He grinned, as Lana folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to say more.
“And?” she demanded, when he did not elaborate, instead turning back to the closet to remove some slippers and place them at her feet.
“And,” he confided softly, lifting her foot to place it first one slipper, then the next. “I discovered that I was wrong. Once I relinquished myself to the Imperial Order, and my role in it, I felt very satisfied. But you are an Atrix,” he said breathlessly, standing up. His eyes were bright. “You’ll probably be married to a king and live an extraordinary life.”
Lana’s mouth fell open, and several thoughts jockeyed for position to be the first out of her mouth—that Anasi sounded like brainwashed nutcase, or that she’d rather be a free spinster eating garbage on Vipheon than a ritzy whore—but she was unable to say any of them. And worst of all, there was a shocking thought fluttering around amid all her indignation: this fabric felt divine, and it wouldn’t be entirely terrible to be treated like a queen instead of eating trash...
She snapped her mouth shut, deciding to say nothing. She would keep her own counsel, and she would resist the brainwashing she would surely be subjected to.
But telling all of this to Anasi was not in her best interests; namely, to keep her resistance a secret.
Even if, she thought guiltily, she had enjoyed some aspects of—
She cut herself off and looked at Anasi archly. “Well,” she said. “What now?”
* * *
‘What now’ turned outto be the beginning of a day that would be repeated until Lana no longer had any sense of time or place, and to hear Anasi tell it, she would be grateful for this order and discipline in her life.
Anasi guided her to a room that was marked in Pratean and other languages—none of them Anglais—and in Pratean, she believed, read simply: Stay Out.
She breathed a small sigh of relief that evidently the thick-headed monsters would not be present in this room at least.
“This is your trainer,” Anasi told her, indicating a man clad in what Lana thought of as the dress clothing of Imperial officers: a dark material that shone slightly and fit close to his bulging muscles. He had narrowed, resolute eyes that hovered over a masked nose and lips, which Lana could only imagine scowling.
“First we will need to cleanse you,” the trainer narrated clinically, indicating the table. “You are familiar with the procedure.”
Lana remembered the humiliating medical examination, and the sensation of warm fluid filling her. Her pussy began to grow warm and wet, but her internal modesty rebelled. Her head shook, and she looked to Anasi, who offered her a reassuring smile.
“I’m... not... no way,” she said quietly. She backed up.
The trainer inhaled, filling his lungs, and crossed his hands in front of him. The gesture was at once patient, but firmly indicating the end of his patience. “If you do not climb onto the table in the proper position, Atrix 12, I will be required to discipline you.”
Lana knew she had no choice; what could she do? But again, almost involuntarily, her head shook. She wasn’t even sure why: the prospect of feeling the same sensation again held a strange appeal for her. Perhaps she was only doing it because she felt that shemust, she couldn’t simplycomplyand become a willing sexual slave.
Could she?
She didn’t have time to think much about it, because the magnetic cuffs that were attached behind her back were pulling apart, and then forward, in a very similar, slow-moving, but utterly unstoppable way, and soon her arms were spreading in opposite directions across the table and her ankles were closing in on the foot of the table, leaving her bent over it. She felt the slight pressure change of her collar locking into place against the cool metal, and she strained against the binding only slightly, because it was clear that she was not going anywhere.
The skin on her backside, almost as if it could sense what was coming next, began to feel more sore and hot than it had just moments before. What had she done? She could almost feel the sting of a hand against her bottom, and no one had even touched her.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, trying to move her head to look at the trainer. “I just... I didn’t think, sir. I will get on the table—”
