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From: "Nikki@P.U."
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Subject: SLAVEGIRL OF THE IMPERIUM (ped, bdsm, abuse)
Date: Fri, 29 Oct 2004 17:00:29 -0700
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SLAVEGIRL OF THE IMPERIUM (ped, bdsm, abuse)

BY C CARL

"Don't you mess this up, you little baby!" hissed Sela.

"I won't! I won't!" exclaimed little Melinda. She had tagged along with 
the young teen more out of boredom than anything, and now was being 
roped into a food-stealing scheme. The booths of the vendors at the 
Festival lay before them. Tantalizing smells wafted through the air.

Melinda vaguely knew that she shouldn't be doing this. She had spent 
some time in the company of a missionary who had come out of the 
Imperium to minister on this backwater planet. Under that devoted soul's 
guidance she had even converted, but she was, after all, only seven. Bad 
company and temptation are hard to avoid at seven.

Melinda was a street girl in a provincial town, in a war-torn country, 
on a minor planet in a corner of the galaxy that the Imperium had not 
yet gotten around to annexing. She still had some semblance of a family: 
an aunt who, when not soused, at least provided the girl with a place to 
sleep and a crust of bread to eat, the money for which was earned by 
turning tricks for the soldiers that passed through town. But most of 
the time the girl was on the street, getting by as best she could.

"Now get out there, and make it good! G'wan!" urged Sela.

Melinda sidled out in front of the booths. She proceeded to put on a 
most fetching display, dancing around and singing in a sweet little 
voice some of the songs she had learned at the mission. All eyes were on 
her. Sela made her move, sliding around to the side of a fruit and 
vegetable stand. She scooped some produce into the folds of her dress 
and began to slip away.

She tripped over a dog in the street. Yowling, the dog ran off. Fruit 
and vegetables rolled around. Sela yelped, and then jumped up, shouting, 
"Run Melinda!" and took off.

Melinda probably could have stayed there safely. No one knew that she 
and Sela were together. But she ran. And she and Sela were both caught. 
Her older mentor was given over for a whipping. Because of her tender 
age, the little girl was sentenced to a public spanking instead.

A crowd had gathered for the fun, of which Melinda was merely an 
appetizer, and Sela a side dish. A whore was sentenced to be flogged, 
and a murderer was scheduled to be hanged. Melinda was never sure 
afterwards if the older man who spanked her (the town schoolmaster, who 
doubled as the executioner) was trying to be kind to her or not. She was 
brought to him in the town building that overlooked the square. As he 
prepared her, he whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry I have to do this. 
I'll try not to hurt you too much. But it's better if I do it; if I 
refuse, they'll get someone else who'll spank you even harder! Just try 
to relax and not fight it, it'll be easier for you." Then he led her out 
in front of the onlookers.

He turned her bottom towards the crowd and clipped the hem of her 
punishment shift up so that her buttocks were exposed to view. Catcalls 
and jeers came from some of the more cruel. Then he proceeded to spank 
her on her bare bottom with his open hand. SWAP! SWAP! "OOOO! AH! AH! 
OOOOH!" she cried piteously as the spanks rained down on her quivering 
buttocks. At the same time, he reached around almost casually with his 
other hand, ostensibly to hold her in place to receive her punishment. 
He seized her underdeveloped girlcleft with a firm hand, massaging and 
kneading her tender labia and clitoris. As he spanked her and spanked 
her with one hand, he probed her hymen with the other, then concentrated 
on her clitoris, pressing and pinching, twisting and pulling. The crowd 
could not see this activity, since her bottom was turned towards them. 
Even the girl was nearly unconscious of it, distraught as she was from 
her punishment, swaying in her tormenter's arms, breath short, knees 
weak, mouth dry, as she cried out and moaned with each SMACK! Soon the 
stimulation of her girlcleft made itself known. A strange wave came over 
her, beginning with her clitoris, then spreading with each spank to her 
bottom, and then throughout her being. Soon her cries became more and 
more wild, and she bucked and jerked in her punisher's arms. He sensed 
her nearing climax, so he suddenly spun her around, turning her little 
mons towards the onlookers. They hooted at the sight of the sweet young 
girl's most intimate area, but their glee was shortlived; her molester 
just gave her two quick hard swats on her vulva, and then hustled her 
inside the building, leaving the crowd panting for the next victim. The 
little girl was shaking and sobbing as she spent herself, confused and 
dizzy, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations in her moist 
girlcleft, rubbing and rubbing her abused bottom and labia.

She fled from the town hall as soon as she could, but stopped as she 
heard the SNAP! and the cries of her "partner in crime" as the whip 
seized the older girl's bottom, and the crowd jeered and gawked. Sela 
howled and moaned, suspended by her wrists tied together and hung from a 
rafter, her legs parted by a bar fastened to her ankles. Melinda watched 
almost in spite of herself as the young teen received a stern whipping: 
buttocks, thighs, breasts, and even a few strokes directly onto her 
lightly fledged cleft. As Sela's tears flowed, Melinda found her hand 
straying towards her own cleft...

Over the next few years the little girl would often relive the 
experience while lying on her mat at night, sometimes pretending to 
spank herself , sometimes picturing herself as Sela, receiving the same 
strict, intimate punishment she did, while rubbing her little clitoris, 
then spanking her own cleft as she came with little yips and moans.

As the girl neared nine years old, times were getting worse. The wars 
were going poorly for the nation, though the town had been spared any 
actual combat. But food was scarce. The girl's aunt had gone from poor 
guardian to none. The girl now lived in any hovel and scrounged for any 
scrap of food she could find.

Rumors were filtering into town that the Imperium had arrived onplanet. 
They had allied themselves with the enemy. Against their advanced 
weapons, resistance was futile. Soldiers, the few that were left, were 
hurrying back to their homes. Soon the enemy soldiers arrived.

Since there was no resistance, they were not as harsh as they might have 
been. There were no killings. There was no organized rape or torture. 
Individual soldiers seized individual women or girls for their pleasure, 
and there was some looting, but it seemed curiously restrained. The 
reason why was soon apparent.

Imperial troops arrived shortly afterwards in force, escorting the new 
provincial governor, who planned to make the town the capital for the 
province. He had made some effort to ensure that there was little 
violence accompanying his assumption of power. He had given orders to 
limit the looting and rape. Slaves would be taken, as they always were 
when the Imperium came to power, but children would not be separated 
from their parents, nor wives from their husbands (when this became 
generally known, there was a spate of marriages among the teenagers of 
the town!). Still, there were plenty of street children, and poor 
families willing to sell their offspring, especially in these hard times.

The new governor wanted there to be as little resentment towards himself 
and the Imperium as possible, so as to make governing easier. He also 
had another motive. Although it was not popular in the Imperium, he was 
a Christian, and therefore wished to spare the populace excess 
suffering. He had devoted his life to military service with the 
Imperium, and now looked forward to spending the rest of his days 
keeping the peace and aiding in the development of this backwater culture.

He was a quiet, studious man, tall and reserved. He had lost his wife in 
childbirth with their firstborn, who also died, and he buried his grief 
in his duties. Now he prepared to take up a new assignment. He was ready 
for a life of peace.

As he proceeded to set up his residence, he toured the slave compound in 
order to choose some for his household. As he went down the aisles, 
picking 2 or 3 likely candidates, his eyes fell on the little girl. She 
was now at least partially cleaned up, and not wearing filthy rags; she 
was wearing the standard child's slave shift, a little short for her 
perhaps; it barely covered her bottom and cleft. She was heartbreakingly 
slender, and to his eyes seemed to have the face of an angel in despair. 
He did not linger over her; indeed he outwardly seemed not to notice 
her. But as he came back down the line, he seemed to almost negligently 
point her out and order her to be brought along as well, since "some use 
might be made of her in the kitchen or the laundry."

He appeared to forget for a few days that he even had the little 
girlslave. But he eventually called for her to be brought to him, as all 
the slaves had been, so that he could formally assign them their place 
and give them into the charge of his housekeeper or groundskeeper. She 
was shown into his room. He was sitting in an easy chair beside the 
fireplace. He beckoned her to come over and kneel on the soft rug in 
front of him.

"What's your name, little one?" he asked.

"Melinda, an' it please you, m'Lord" she replied, having been coached by 
the slavemaster in how to address him.

"That's a lovely name," he said. "You don't have to call me `m'Lord' or 
say `an' it please you' while we're alone together, though; just call me 
`Sir', all right?"

"A-all right...Sir" she managed to stammer out, hoping she wasn't going 
to get herself into trouble. She had all ready seen another slave, a 
young woman too haughty for her own good, tied down and systematically 
whipped by the slavemaster for her insolence.

He began to gently question her. Guilelessly she told him everything she 
knew about herself. He was entranced by the sweetness she retained 
despite her bitter life. He found himself desiring to protect her from 
any harm. He wanted to take no chances that she might fall afoul of the 
slavemaster or any other supervisor, or even any other slave.

"Can you read?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes, Sir! I love to read! The missionary taught me how. But I 
hardly ever get to read anything. Books are so expensive," she sighed.

"I have many books," he told her, "Would you like to be my librarian?"

"Wh-what's that?" she queried.

"That's the person who manages the books, keeps them in order, and finds 
one for someone who needs one," he informed her.

"I think I would love to do that! May I really? Sir?" she hastily added.

And so he managed to place her directly under his supervision, and out 
of the way of his staff and the other slaves. He found himself often in 
the library, showing her some interesting tome or other, helping her 
figure out the filing system, and so forth. He was impressed with her 
intelligence, and charmed by her enrapturement at being surrounded by so 
many books. He even found her a help at times in clarifying some thorny 
issue of government.

They talked often. Soon he even found himself unfolding to her details 
of his own life.

"Sir, are you married?" she asked him.

"I was," he replied briefly. "She died."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Sir! I guess you'd rather not talk about it," and she 
turned away, pretending to busy herself with a book.

He sighed. He looked at her for a while. Then, with the air of someone 
who has decided a difficult issue that has been long in the balance, he 
said, "No, it's all right. I'd like to talk about her, if you're willing 
to listen."

"Of course, Sir! Please tell me about her!"

"She was young when we were married. Older than you, but young. I'm not 
very wise, but I was wise enough to tell her all about myself before we 
were married. She understood, and she was kind and loving enough to fit 
her desires to mine. I was devastated when she died. I guess I went a 
little crazy for a while after that; but craziness sometimes helps in 
battle, and my troops fought well. Being here is part of the reward from 
the Imperium for my service."

"What do you mean, `she understood' and `fit her desires to' you?" she 
asked. "Sir?" she remembered to add. "Understood what? What desires did 
she have to `fit' to?" she asked ingenuously.

"To explain that, I need to know how much you know about some things," 
he answered. "You know what `sex' is, don't you?" She nodded shyly. "And 
you know what sexual desire is?" She was less certain of that. "Do you 
know what happens to a male when he wants to have sex with a female?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied softly, "I've seen the animals; the dogs and the 
farm animals. I guess it's the same way with men..."

"Yes, pretty much the same way. When a man has a desire to have sex with 
a woman, that's a sexual desire. It often affects him physically that 
way, as well. And the desire that she fit to mine was sexual desire of a 
certain kind," he informed her.

"What kind, Sir?"

"Let me tell you about something that may seem kind of strange to you, 
Melinda. Now you know that most men can be sexually excited by seeing a 
pretty woman and thinking about having sex with her, don't you?" Again 
she nodded her head shyly. "Well some men will get sexually excited by 
many other things having to do with a woman. Some of them might seem 
weird. All of these unusual ways of sexual excitement are called 
"fetishes". Some men have to have their fetish as part of sex in order 
to be sexually excited, others just like it more with it than without it.

"Let me give you an example: believe it or not, some men are sexually 
excited at the thought of a woman wearing high heeled shoes, or red 
shoes, or both. They can't get fully sexually excited unless she's 
wearing the right shoes. Other men with a similar fetish might only need 
to imagine that she's wearing certain shoes to get more excited. Do you 
understand?" She nodded slowly. "There are many different fetishes, and 
some people have more than one. When I was courting my wife, I told her 
about mine. Even though many women might not have wanted to see me 
anymore, she not only accepted my predeliction, she enthusiastically 
joined in. You see, I, too, have a fetish. Actually two of them.

"One is that I enjoy spanking and punishing a pretty girl. Oh, I can 
have sex without it, but with it it is much more enjoyable. And my wife 
not only let me spank her, and whip her, and punish her in various ways, 
the idea of being punished seemed to excite her, too. But that's not all...

"You see, my wife really did look a lot like you. She was small, and 
slender, and looked even younger than she was. And she willingly would 
`playact', pretending to be much younger than she was. And that helped 
me, because the other particular desire that I have is to have sex with 
a very young girl. A girl who is slender, like you..." And he traced his 
hand down her side. "And has slim hips, like yours," he said as he 
patted her bottom. "And no more than little buds for breasts," he said 
as he slid his hand from her belly to her chest, tracing a finger over 
first one nipple, then the other, through her thin shift, making her 
tremble.

"But most importantly," he said, as he cupped her chin in his hand and 
gently raised her head, her eyes meeting his, "The face of an 
angel...like yours." And he kissed her, long and sweet, but not deep.

"So that's how it is, little one. I love you. I desire you. I want you 
to be mine forever. I want to punish you and rape you again and again. 
If I keep you with me, then I will take you to be my wife and do these 
things to you.

"But if you don't want to stay with me, then I will arrange for you to 
go to some good family back in the Imperium. You'll be a slave, but 
well-treated. Most likely you'll eventually be adopted, or given in 
marriage to one of the sons of the household. Of course I can't 
guarantee you won't be spanked somewhere along the way!" he chuckled.

"So what do you think, little one? What do you want to do?"

She hung her head for a moment in thought. But it really wasn't hard for 
her to reach her decision. "I would like to stay with you, Sir, as you 
desire it," she said softly.

He picked her up, and held her in a long hug, rocking her back and forth 
as she clung to him. Then, before anything could happen to get in the 
way, he coached her through the recitation of the wedding vows. Then he 
kissed the "bride".

Melinda assumed he would immediately molest her, but he didn't. With a 
smile and a little pat on her bottom, he simply sent her to her book 
stacks, while he went back to work. Some days passed. Still he did not 
spank her, or rape her, or anything. She began to wonder if it had all 
been a dream, or just a joke.

Perhaps she unconsciously decided to test him, perhaps she was simply 
"in a mood"; at any rate, one day two or three weeks after they were 
married, she "talked back" to him. It wasn't anything insulting, and it 
could have been interpreted as just joking, but he grabbed her arm, spun 
her around to face him, and said, "Young lady, you are out of line! 
You've been asking for a spanking, and now you're going to get it!"

With that, he bent her under his arm, threw up her skirt, and proceeded 
to give her a brisk, businesslike spanking. SMAK, SWACK, SWAP! "Ah! Oh! 
O-O-O!" she cried out as she wriggled and squirmed from her punishment. 
Not only did it sting, but it was terribly embarrassing to have a man 
spanking her bare nine-year-old bottom! With a final SMACK! he 
straightened her up and tossed her skirt back over her bottom. Then he 
went back to work. She stood there, somewhat dazed and bewildered from 
the experience, expecting him at any moment to come back and rape her. 
When he didn't, she didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. 
That night she masturbated vigorously to the thought of him spanking and 
raping her.

More days passed, and again he did not spank or rape her. She would have 
thought that he didn't care for her, except that he was very loving in 
every other way. He hugged her tight when he first saw her in the 
mornings (they still slept in separate rooms), he spent time with her, 
talking, reading to her, teaching her history and interplanetary 
cosmology, and so forth.

In fact, it was in the setting of her lessons with him that he punished 
her next. He had begun to give her little assignments in mathematics for 
her to do while he was away. One day he was checking one piece of work 
while she diligently plowed through another. He marked the wrong answers 
and set it in front of her.

"You've missed three questions out of twenty. That's good, but not good 
enough; you'll have to be punished, young lady." With that he slid her 
chair out from under the desk, her bare thighs gleaming in the light. He 
swept a ruler off the desk and brought it down sharply across the top of 
her thighs, WAK!

"AAAH!" she cried out, and "OOO! A-A-A-AAAH!" again, as he smacked her 
thighs over and over. Then he pulled her to her feet and bent her 
forwards over the desk. He tossed up her skirt, and WAPWAPWAP! went the 
ruler across her naked bottom as she moaned and yelped. Then he spun her 
around, bent her backward over the desk, and brought the ruler up once, 
sharply, between her legs, full upon her unfledged girlcleft: WAPPP! 
"AAAAAA!" she nearly screamed, and almost came on the spot.

He tossed the ruler back on the desk, gave her a quick hug, and strode 
out, saying, "There, young lady, I hope you've learned your lesson!" As 
he left, she sank back into her chair, rubbing her little bottom, 
thighs, and cleft as she moaned and sobbed.

That night, he came to her room. She was asleep. He pulled her covers 
back and gazed down at her in wonder and delight. Then he took the 
riding crop he had with him, nudged the hem of her shift up off her 
thighs, and began whipping her directly on her bare thighs, 
WAKWAKWAKWAK! "AAAA!" she cried out as she woke up, frantic. He swept 
her up in his arms, cuddling her closely as her fear left her, and she 
relaxed against him, feeling safe and protected. Then he sent her to the 
bathroom.

When she returned, he had her stand in the middle of the floor. He took 
a switch he had brought with him and began to systematically whip her 
legs, starting with the backs of her calves, then the backs of her 
thighs, then the front of her thighs, and then her bottom. He spent some 
time switching her on her buttocks, letting the sting of one stroke set 
in, then delivering another just above or below the previous, admiring 
the network of thin, faint red lines that faded slowly.

He stopped abruptly, and pulled her shift all the way off her slender 
preteen body, now swaying from the intensity of her punishment. She was 
stunning: long silky hair, slim shoulders and hips only barely beginning 
to think about flaring, hardly any baby fat left, her nipples just 
starting to become more prominent, but nothing underneath them except 
breast buds, her sweet unfledged cleft lips peeping out from between her 
thighs. The top of her head barely came up to his chest. She was deeply 
embarrassed to be just nine years old and to be so naked in front of a 
grown man.

He stared for a while at her little breasts. She blushed prettily, 
nearly down to her nipples. Suddenly he seized her breast buds and 
nipples in his hands and began to knead and work them, pinching and 
twisting her tender nipples as she gasped and moaned, "SSSS! Ooooo!"

Then he took the switch and began to whip her directly on her nipples 
and breast buds. WAK! WAP! "Ooooh! Aaaaah! Oh, please Sir! AAAA!" she 
cried out. When he finally finished whipping her breasts they were 
fetchingly reddened, her nipples stiff and tender.

He took her to the bed and put her in knee-chest position. She squirmed 
at the realization of how exposed her little-girl cleft and anus were to 
the man's eyes. Then all thought was driven from her mind, for he had 
brought a groovestrap whistling down to smack full upon her girlcleft, 
her perineum, and her anus, WHAPP! "AAAAAAA!" she nearly screamed, and 
then, "OOOOO! AAAA! A-A-A-A-AAAAH!" as he whipped her again and again on 
her most intimate parts.

Finally he could hold back no longer. He probed her anus fiercely with 
lubricated fingers; one, two, then three at a time, his other hand 
roughly massaging her clitoris, as she yipped and squirmed. Then he lay 
over her, seized her slim shoulders, and plunged his rod with one thrust 
deep into her tender delicate anus. She cried out wildly as she felt her 
tissues stretch to accommodate his tool. She cried out more, 
rhythmically, as he methodically raped her anus, reaching around to 
molest her clitoris so that soon she was bucking and moaning, and crying 
out and coming, as he too achieved climax, spilling his seed into her 
rectum as she sobbed and sniffed.

He carried her into the bathroom and started the shower. He took her 
into the shower and commenced to clean her well, with a rough terry 
cloth scrubbing her nipples, clitoris, and anus. When she moaned and 
struggled briefly, he said sternly, "Hold still, young lady!" and he 
pushed her front up against the wall, so that her nipples and cleft lips 
were pressed against the cold tile. He took a flexible clear plastic 
ruler that was hanging in the shower and smacked her bottom and the 
backs of her thighs. Then he repeatedly brought it up sharply between 
her legs as she cried out wildly. He returned to washing her, and this 
time she held still!

He took her out of the shower and carefully dried her, again paying 
close attention to her nipples, her unfledged girlcleft, and her anus, 
as she moaned and trembled. He carried her tenderly back to the bed and 
laid her gently upon it. He kissed her all over her face: forehead, 
glabella, the tip of her nose, cheeks, and then full on her mouth, long 
and sweet. Then he kissed her neck and moved down to her chest. He went 
from one nipple to the other, nibbling and sucking, biting and pulling, 
as she moaned softly. He slid down to her belly, pausing a moment to 
playfully blow a zorbert into her jewel of a navel, making her giggle.

Then suddenly he was there, essentially raping her cleft with his 
tongue, pressing insistently against her hymen, then seizing her 
clitoris in a long bite between tongue and teeth that left her nearly 
paralyzed from the intensity of feeling it provoked in her. The 
embarrassment of knowing that, at nine years old, a man was kissing her 
on her most intimate place, was nearly overwhelming. Yet her hips were 
moving of their own volition, pressing her smooth little sex against his 
mouth. Her breath came shorter and shorter, her little soft cries 
becoming louder and more intense.

It was time. He raised up, pressed the head of his rod against the 
unfledged lips of her vulva. He insinuated himself within her until he 
was pressing firmly against her hymen. Then with one hard thrust he 
raped her of her maidenhead and buried himself to her cervix as she 
screamed and sobbed. He lay with her, not moving, as her sobs died down 
to the occasional sniffle. She could feel his rod throbbing within her. 
He began to thrust in and out of her, long and slow at first, then 
faster and harder, raping her thoroughly as she nearly screamed with 
each thrust. Soon the familiar wave began building between her legs, 
then spreading to take over her whole body, as she came and came, 
shouting, "Oh, Sir! Oh, Sir! Oh, Sir! OOOOOH!" Even after she had spent 
herself, he punished her with repeated hard, long strokes, until finally 
he deigned to empty his seed at her cervix.

She lay in his arms for some time afterwards, now fulfilled, knowing 
that she was safe, and loved, and desired, and punished.

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