BDSM Library - Kollany Thirty-Five

1Kollany Thirty-Five

by The Technician

Kollany Thirty-Five is an Erotic Novel in Eight Parts. It is set in the future on a deep space colony and follows the life of Princess Shumara Seven from the time that her plot to assassinate her father, King Humana One, fails to the day of her sentencing and judgement one week later.

During that time she endures a series of punishments that involve forced nudity, humiliation, body transformation, mind-control, forced masturbation, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, spanking, beating, flogging, donkey-girl forced labor, rape, bestiality, electro-torture, golden showers, freezing showers, snow torture, and being forced to eat cold oatmeal (gruel). Through these many punishments and rewards, Shumara Seven discovers her true sluttish nature and eventually accepts and welcomes her final punishment and status.

Chapter One - A Failed Assassination Attempt

Princess Shumara Seven stood naked before the full length mirror in her bedroom gazing at her perfect body. Her body was indeed perfect, as everything on Kollany Thirty-Five was perfect. She was the perfect height for a person of the ruling class. Her skin carried that perfect golden glow that declared to all who saw her that she was one of the rulers of Kollany. Her hair was just the right shade of golden brown as befit her status. Her eyes were the perfect shade of emerald green that could show every emotion from the intense warmth of love to the cold cruel depths of hatred. Even the cleft of her womanhood was the perfect thirty-two degree angle with just a hint of the outer labia showing to create the most appealing appearance for her sex.

Princess Shumara Seven was as perfect as the DNA sequencer and controller could make her, and yet there was a flaw. There was one defect within this perfect princess. She was overly ambitious and cruel. The line between the genetic traits that create a good ruler and the genes that create a tyrant is a very thin line. Shumara Seven, if she had ever been allowed to fully rule, would have definitely been a tyrant - a beautiful, seductress of a tyrant, but a tyrant never-the-less.

As she stared at her regal image in the mirror, Shumara could not see her arrogance or her cruelty or her lack of compassion. Even if she had been able to see these traits within herself, she would not have considered them flaws. They were, for her, a part of being royalty - a part of having the genetic right of kings and queens. It was her right to be arrogant. It was her right to be cruel. It was her right to inflict pain on lesser beings..., and in princess Shumra’s mind everyone and everything was less than her.

For Shumara, the only flaws that she could see as she gazed intently into the mirror at her perfect body were the tears that were streaming down her face and the control collar that encircled her neck. The control collar was there because her elaborate plan to kill her father, King Humana Two had failed and she was now a prisoner awaiting punishment. The tears were primarily because she had been caught.

The one thing that the collar could not, or perhaps would not, control was her tears. Since the moment that she felt the collar slide around her throat and heard the click of the latch sealing her fate, her face had been continually wet with tears. There were tears for the beautiful clothes she would never wear again. There were tears for the looks and words of the lowly servants whom she had once ordered about with her own cold commands. And now that the collar had brought her back into her own room and stood her before her mirror to gaze upon her perfect body, there were tears aplenty for herself and for her perfect body.

None of the tears which flowed freely down Shumara’s face, however, were for Prince Humara Nine, whom she had seduced and led into her treachery. Humara had been an essential part of her perfect plan. He was the one who was to poison the king. He was the one who would be immediately killed by the king’s guards if he was discovered trying to slip the poison into the king’s wine. On the other hand, if he had succeeded and slipped the drug and poison into the king’s drink unnoticed, he would still be dead, killed by a guard that Shumara had paid in advance not with silver, but her golden body. The plan was perfect.

Shumara had known all along that Humara might fail. He was weak; he had been easy to seduce into her plans; he was stupid; and he was expendable. He never suspected that succeed or fail, he was a dead man.

Shumara’s stooge among the king’s personal guards was no stronger of will and not much brighter. It never crossed his mind that there might be a third traitor ready to kill the one who killed the one who killed the king. He even believed that Shumara loved him as he stood ready to act when Humara acted and insure that Shumara’s role in this remained secret.

No one should have ever known that Shumara was involved at all – except for one small mistake made by the princess herself. It was more of a necessary risk than a mistake, but it was done and it was Shumara’s undoing.

The weakest point in a plan is often where it fails. The king, like Shumara, had a perfect body. The king’s perfect body would shake off any ordinary poison. The only way to kill the king by poison was to use a DNA modifier especially formulated to remove his resistance to poisons. That combined with a common, slow acting poison would kill the king within a day. They might find traces of the poison, but once the transformation was complete it would be almost impossible to detect the modified DNA, let alone trace its origin.

Shumara knew an old hag who sold black market DNA modifiers. A lot of people purported to sell modifier capsules, but when purchased from most people, these fake black market drugs did nothing. The pills that the old hag sold, however, would indeed increase your penis size or your bust size or remove various imperfections from your body. It was said that she could even change your genetic class - for a high enough price. It was rumored that she was one of the “old chemists.” That may have been so because she knew the true formulae and had access to forbidden equipment that could sequence DNA modifiers for whatever you desired.

Shumara told the old hag that she wanted to make herself susceptible to the common cold to see what it was like to experience the misery that some of the lesser classes suffered from so regularly. To make her story sound even more believable, she even ordered a modifier to restore her resistance.

The old hag, however, could read Shumara’s twisted soul through her emerald green eyes and knew that the modifier was for some evil purpose. She knew that Shumara planned to use it, not on herself, but on someone else. And since it was to be developed for Shumara’s DNA it would work only on her or a very, very close relative... like her father, the king.

The old hag was loyal to the king for many reasons, so before she ever began to sequence the genes or prepare the modifier, she reported the purchase to the watchers, and the watchers reported to the king’s council, and the king’s council reported to The One. And The One set in motion a plan to capture Humara Nine in the very act of putting a fake genetic modifier in the king’s drink.

Shumara had not counted on The One’s truly perfect plan which made it possible for Humara Nine to be captured alive. That should not have happened. Those who attempted to harm the king or others of the ruling class were almost never taken alive. If they did not die in the attempt, the guards would often, in a frenzy of anger driven by their genetic need to protect the king, kill them outright. But with so many extra watchers and watcher guards hiding nearby, that did not occur. The guard whom Shumara had bribed with the gold of body was afraid to act. Also afraid to act was the guard which she had anonymously bribed with silver to kill the first guard as soon as he killed Humara.

So Shumara’s plan failed, but The One’s plan succeeded. Prince Humara Nine was captured alive in the very act of attempting to poison King Humana Two. He didn’t even have the dignity and honor to try to take his own life when he was caught. Instead, faced with the evidence, he began weeping and confessed everything - including the involvement of Princess Shumara Seven.

Later that evening one of the watchers, who had recently been assigned as Princess Shumara’s personal bodyguard, placed the control collar on her neck as she was in the middle of upbraiding a servant for being late bringing her some trinket or another. From that instant, Princess Shumara Seven was a prisoner.

She no longer controlled her own body. With the control collar around her neck, her body belonged to The One. There was no need for a trial. The One had all the evidence it needed to be sure of her guilt. At the appropriate day and time, The One would decree its sentence and all of Kollany Thirty-Five would see it carried out. Until that time, the collar controlled everything.

Later in the day, with the collar securely around her neck, Shumara had walked out of her rooms in the palace apparently of her own free will, but in reality with every slight muscle movement controlled by the collar. She walked down the royal hallway and came unannounced into the king’s throne chamber where the king was in the middle of his weekly vid-report to the people. He and his guards had been fully briefed and were expecting her appearance. The vid-cam operators had also been informed that there would be a “special guest” and were instructed to be ready to cover everything that might occur.

The home audience, and those in attendance who were not aware of the earlier arrest of Prince Humara Nine, watched with amazement as Princess Shumara Seven walked up beside King Humana One, waited quietly for him to complete his remarks, and then announced to him and to the entire population of Kollany Thirty-Five, “The watchers have uncovered irrefutable evidence that I attempted to poison our prime ruler with an illegally obtained genetic modifier. I have been convicted along with Prince Humara Nine and will be publicly sentenced and receive my final punishment one week from now, exactly at noon, in the city square of Kollany Thirty-Five Prime. The sentencing and the beginning of my official punishment will be vidcast live at that time.”

The collar continued to speak through her, “Since I am now a convicted criminal, I may no longer wear the clothing of the ruling class.” Shumara’s body trembled as she struggled against the collar’s control, but her arms and hands were no longer hers. They moved as if on their own to unbutton the front of her exquisite gown and slowly slide it from her body. Soon her blouse and underslips followed so that she was left standing in front of the vid-cams in nothing but a lacy bra and a very brief pair of panties.

Her arms shuddered once again as she resisted their movement behind her back to release the bra. They shuddered even more as they moved downward toward her final brief article of clothing. It is a tribute to the power of her will that she almost broke free of the collar’s control when her hands moved to the sides of her panties. But the unlimited power of The One controlled the collar and so the collar continued to control Shumara. Under the collar’s direction, her hands slid the panties downward until she was standing naked before the populace of Kollany Thirty-Five.

Her voice was slightly husky, but still loud and clear as she once again spoke, “Since I am not yet a member of any other gene class, and to what class I will be re-assigned will not be announced until my sentencing in one week, I will remain naked and classless until that time as a reminder to all of what I have done. It will also be a lesson to all that wrongdoing will be punished severely by The One who ultimately rules us.”

She paused and faced the cameras squarely. The vid-cam operators zoomed in to a tight shot of her face as she continued, “In that time I will be subjected to special forms of instruction which will show me the errors of my ways and remind me - and all of you - of what I have given up by my actions. I will also be led to at least symbolically make right the many wrongs which I have committed in the past. If this time granted me by The One is fruitful, perhaps my punishment will be lessened by my contrition and remorse.”

Princess Shumara Seven, now merely Shumara Seven, then walked slowly out of the room with the vid-cams following her every move so that all the inhabitants of Kollany Thirty-Five could see every aspect of her perfect body. The final vid was a tight closeup of her perfect ass cheeks as she went out the door.

What Shumara did not yet know, but would quickly learn over the course of the next week was that the control collar not only controlled a person’s body by taking over control of the nervous system, it also read memories. Or, to be more accurate, it allowed The One to read a person’s mind including, not only current thoughts, but also any and all memories of past events. The collar, or The One who controlled the collar, now knew every wrong thing that Princess Shumara Seven had ever done. The One also knew her schemes and her dreams, her fantasies and her fears. With this knowledge, the ultimate punishment which The One would decree would not only fit the crime for which she was convicted, it would also fit the way that she responded to the collar’s attempts to force her to right previous wrongs that she had committed.

Following her public admission of guilt, Shumara had been confined to her room in the palace by the collar except for those times when it led or directed her elsewhere. At mealtime, it would lead her to the great hall where she had once sat at the main table with the elite of the elite. On the first night, she was forced by the collar to crawl naked among the tables begging for food like a common house dog. Many women whom she had once thought to be her friends laughed heartily as she knelt with her arms before her like a puppy and they threw scraps of food at her open mouth.

Thankfully for her, this forced puppyhood was for the first night only. The next morning she was led to a special table that had been prepared for her at the back of the hall near the serving doors that led into the kitchen. It was an old, rough, stained, wooden table and bench that rubbed uncomfortably against her naked ass, but at least she was not on her knees on the floor.

Throughout the day, the collar would have her walk the hallways of the palace and the attached government office buildings, stopping in each room or office to announce, “I am Shumara Seven. I was a princess in line for the throne, but because I went against The One’s rules for our society and for my gene class, I am now nothing. Please watch my sentencing and final punishment in seven days.” The number in her announcement changed each day. It was a countdown to her final day of reckoning.

The routine of each day was basically the same except that the shudders and tremors of resistance decreased each day. Perhaps she fought less, perhaps the collar was fine tuning itself to her system, or perhaps it was allowing her to move more on her own. In any case her movements became more fluid each day and her voice sounded more and more natural as her naked body moved to places she would never go and her voice spoke words she would never say.

At the beginning and end of each day, the collar would bring her here, before her mirror, to gaze for an hour upon her perfect body and to think about what she lost by going against the will of The One who ruled Kollany Thirty-Five.

END CHAPTER ONE OF EIGHT

1Kollany Thirty-Five

by The Technician

Chapter Two - Judgement Day minus Six

Shumara’s first night as a prisoner in her own body did not go well for her. Following her forced public announcement of her crime and her absolute debasement during dinner in the great hall, the control collar led her back to her room. As it was leading her down the great hallway, she had attempted to use her body to try to escape. She knew that her naked, perfect body had an effect on the guards as she passed. So as she walked back to her room, with the small amount of freedom she had to move her eyes and her fingers she attempted to indicate that she would be “very grateful” to any guard who would remove the collar. She even managed to gyrate her walk into a couple of pelvic thrusts before the collar re-tuned its control of her stride. The guards, if they noticed, did not act, but the collar noticed everything and it did act. When she reached her room, after placing her in front of her mirror to gaze upon herself until her tears were dripping on the floor, the collar then led her to her bed where it forced her to begin to finger and rub herself in a strange form of masturbation where the fingers, but not the mind were hers.

The collar knew exactly what her body wanted and exactly when to deny that final pleasure to her. Throughout the night, her hands brought her to the edge of release and then slapped or pinched or just came up to her face and smeared her juices across her mouth and nose. If she could have spoken, she would have screamed to be allowed to cum... she would have begged to be allowed to cum... she would have offered to do anything if she could just cum. But the collar kept her just short of final orgasm and allowed her heat to cool for a few moments until once again taking her to the very edge of the peak that she sought. It was as if the collar or perhaps The One who controlled the collar was laughing at her attempts to escape by using her perfect sex. Or perhaps it was showing her that her punishment would be shaped by her own actions. If she attempted to use her sex to escape, she would be punished through her sex.

Just before dawn, her hands took her to release. It was a thundering and explosive orgasm that had been building in her throughout the night. It was an overload of pleasure for her body and mind. It almost made the night of torment worth it, but then her hands again began their rubbing and prodding as the collar forced her to orgasm again and again and again and again. Now, if she had been able to speak she would have screamed and cried and begged to be allowed to stop cumming, but instead her hands continued to rub and circle and tease until she peaked in another, now painful, orgasm. Finally, after sufficiently punishing her feeble attempt at escape, the collar released her into a few hours of sleep before waking her to begin what would be her daily walk of shame.

During breakfast, the collar forced her to smile brightly and look each person in the dining hall in the eye as they passed by her solitary table or stared at her from where they sat. Her cheery “Good Morning, Sir” or “Good Morning Madam” echoed almost continuously throughout the hall. When the servant women from the kitchen gathered around the serving door to look at her, her neck shuddered in resistance against turning toward them and her mouth trembled as she tried to hold back greeting them, but the collar was stronger than her will and eventually she merrily chirped “Good Morning, Ladies” through quivering teeth.

What her mind really wanted to scream out at the servant girls huddled in the kitchen door was exactly what she had screamed at them so many times before. That was, “Wait until I get you over a kitchen chair. I will pound your ass into shredded meat with one of the cook’s kettle spoons.”

Kettle spoons were large, very over-sized wooden spoons intended to stir a kettle of stew or soup that was cooking over the open fires of the kitchen hearths. Shumara loved using kettle spoons as her chosen instrument of torture when she would spank or beat the kitchen staff. She had even ordered several special kettle spoons made “for the cook” that hung on the wall alongside the fireplace for those occasions when she needed to vent her anger on someone. The presence of those spoons in the kitchen was a constant reminder of the power and pain which she held over the servant girls and boys of the kitchen staff.

As Shumara pictured those spoons in her mind, she especially remembered tying the chief cook’s daughter, Jenny, across the serving counter in the kitchen and beating her until she could scream no more. She had then left her there naked, with blood running down her legs, for her father to find when he came into the kitchen to begin preparing the next meal.

As soon as that image formed in her mind the collar buzzed slightly and forced her to stand. It then walked her to the serving door which separated the kitchen from dining hall. The serving women scattered before her in fear of what she had done to them in the past and what she might do to them now, even in her disgraced state.

“I am ordered to request that all kitchen and serving staff gather in the kitchen at exactly two this afternoon. I know that this is your break time, but I promise that what you will see will more than make up for missing your afternoon break. I am further ordered to especially request that Junhara Six and her father Donhara Three be present.” With that Shumara bowed to the assembled women and backed out of the room.

As she left the great hall to begin her tour of shame through the rooms and offices of the palace complex, the collar loosened its grip upon her slightly and allowed her to sob and cry out loud as tears flowed freely down her face and wet the tops of her naked breasts. As she sobbed her way through the rooms and hallways, she was aware of the smiles and even laughter that accompanied her. The humiliation was so intense that her skin darkened with a reddish blush until it appeared almost as dark red as the distinctive hue of the genetic class which cleaned the buildings and took care of the grounds that surrounded them.

It was nearly one o’clock when she finished her walk through the rooms and offices and the collar brought her back to the great hall. All eyes turned to watch her as she entered and walked to her table where a large bowl of cold gruel awaited her. Shumara had always hated even the smell of gruel when it was served to the servants and had never in her life actually eaten or even tasted it. But the choice was not hers as she scooped spoonful after spoonful of the slimy slop into her mouth. She hoped that she would be allowed to remain at her table for a while when she had finished, but instead her body rose and went to the front of the hall to the slightly raised speaker’s platform. She stood in front of the podium and announced with a loud voice, “Superiors of me, I beg your indulgence to announce that I am to be punished for my past behavior with the serving staff. If any of you wish to witness this punishment, it will begin at 2:00 o’clock sharp in the kitchen.” Shumara Seven then lowered her arms to her side and stood there like a living statue as she watched the clock above the doorway slowly tick its way toward 2:00 o’clock.

A few moments before 2:00 she began a slow walk to the kitchen. Many of the ruling class who did not have duties that required them to be elsewhere, had remained after eating to see what would occur, and all of the kitchen and serving staff were crowded into the kitchen to witness whatever punishment Shumara would receive. Each of them had felt her wrath at least once and all of them were hoping that she would suffer at least as much as she had made them suffer.

Shumara walked into the kitchen and directly over to the four overly large spoons that hung on the wall alongside the fireplace kettles. One of the spoons, except for its size, was a normal spoon; one was a spoon with holes drilled through it supposedly to allow liquids to drain away but actually to make it sting more intensely when it struck against the flesh; one was flat, almost like a spatula; and the last was flat and slotted so that it was somewhere between a spatula and a fork. The slotted wooden spatula raised instant welts in a distinctive pattern when it was applied to a persons backside. The welts from that spatula-fork often scarred and remained as a reminder of the princes’ wrath for years.

None of these special spoons had ever actually been used to stir the kettles in the palace kitchens. These were Princess Shumara Seven’s “private spoons” and had only one purpose. They were used to whip a servant’s ass until he or she screamed and begged for mercy. When they were not being used for that purpose, they remained on the wall as a constant reminder of her power.

Shumara took the four spoons from the wall. She gave one of them to Jenny Six and another to her father Donny Trey. She then asked, “Who is it that cleans the coals and ashes from the ovens and fireplaces?” A rather dirty looking wench stepped forward. She was one of the lowest of the servant girls with the dark, almost gray skin of the servant class, but even darker and grayer. She was chosen partially because she was the lowest of the servant class, but also because had very muscled arms from lugging wood in for cooking and taking ashes out to the soap house. She was handed the spatula spoon. Shumara continued, “And who draws the water from the well and brings it into the kitchen?” A much cleaner, but no less muscled young woman stepped forward and was handed the spatula fork.

Shumara then moved to the preparation counter in the center of the kitchen. Several of the servants gulped or cried softly as they remembered what had happened to them when she had tied them across that very counter and had beaten them with those very spoons. One of Shumara’s favorite “games” was to force them to hold one of the spoons in their hand or in their mouths while she beat them with the other spoons. If they dropped it she would begin her count all over again. Then when she was finished, she would make them stand in the great hall just outside the kitchen door, still holding the spoon wherever it was that she had placed it, until the next meal had been served and the hall had been cleared. If the next meal was breakfast, that meant the servant girl or boy stood there all night.

Shumara lay herself across the low counter with her breasts hanging free on one side of the counter and her legs barely touching the floor on the other side. There were special eye-bolts at the base of the counter that Shumara had ordered installed and were normally used to tie her victim in place. Two servants stepped forward with ropes, but the collar said through her voice, “It will not be necessary to tie me. The collar will see to that. Each of you is to administer 50 strokes as hard as you can. Jenny Six, you are to go first. After you are finished, place the spoon in my right hand. The ashes servant will go next and then place her spoon in my left hand. The water girl will be third and then place her spoon in my mouth. Donhara Three, you will be last. I think that by the time you have finished you will know where to place your spoon. You may need to use some of the grease from the scrap bucket on the handle before you put it in place. Afterward, I will take the spoons with me and burn them in my fireplace. They will never be used here again.”

Shumara held her arms out to her sides and spread her feet as wide as they could go. It was as if she was very tightly tied in place except that there were no ropes holding her. The first stroke smacked against her ass cheek and resounded like a shot within the kitchen. Her scream, which was even louder, surprised her more than it did those who were watching. Evidently the collar had returned control of her voice to her so that the servants could hear her scream and beg for mercy.

Scream she did, very loudly, but she did not beg for mercy, at least not at first. Instead she cursed and spit and declared that she would someday get her vengeance on those who dared to touch her royal body. Pride, however, is no match for pain, and somewhere around the thirtieth stroke she began to beg. “Please don’t do this. Please I can’t stand it. Please don’t hurt me like this.”

Her words, if anything, had the opposite effect on Jenny Six. She sped up the tempo of her strikes and swung harder and harder with each swing of her arm. Finally she reached fifty and stopped. She was panting, sweaty and gasping for air, but for the first time in several years, she was also smiling. In fact, she was almost laughing as she took the spoon and set it in Shumara’s hand and said, “Remember, former princess, if you drop the spoon, we start the count over again at one.” Shumara wondered if the sound of joy in Jenny’s voice and the look of triumph on her face was what the servants had seen on her face as she said the same words to them.

The ashes girl stepped up directly behind Shumara and began swinging her spoon downward against Shumara’s upper legs. Shumara bounced and kicked as much as the collar would allow and on the fifth strike, her hands opened and she dropped Jenny’s spoon. Jenny rushed forward and picked it up and put it back in Shumara’s hand. “You lost five on that one, former princess. You will need to do better than that if you are going to survive this.” Both Shumara and Jenny knew that Jenny’s laughter that followed was because she was again using the exact same words that Shumara had used the night she had beaten Jenny to a bloody mess on that very counter.

The ashes girl began once again and, as before, she struck vertically on Shumara’s legs and ass. Shumara screamed and begged and squirmed but she did not again drop the spoon even when the ashes girl reversed the spoon and struck deeply in the crack of her ass with the narrow handle, once striking her tail bone and once striking her puckered anus with the very tip of the handle. When the ashes girl finally finished, she placed her spoon in Shumara’s left hand, and the water girl stepped forward with the terrible slotted spatula-fork.

“I don’t know if you remember, former princess, but when you tied me naked to this counter, I was looking at the ceiling, not the floor. If I am to do to you what you did to me, I need to turn you over.”

“No, no, please, not that,” blubbered Shumara, an image of what she had done to the water girl forming in her mind. But then in a voice that was clear and crisp the collar spoke through her and said, “Turn me over and lay me flat on the counter.” Several men servants stepped forward and she was soon laying face up on the counter with her head at one end and her feet at the other.

“That’s not how I was tied,” said the water girl and she roughly grabbed Shumara’s feet and spread them so that her legs were outside the counter and her feet hung down with her knees bent. The result was that Shumara’s legs were spread so wide that her slit gaped open, and with her lower legs hanging alongside the counter, there was no way that she could draw her legs back together.

“That’s more like it,” laughed the water girl and she reached forward and tapped the side of the fork-like spatula-spoon between Shumara’s legs against her mons. Shumara jumped slightly with the tap, but the collar held her in place. After three more taps, one directly on the clit and one on each nipple, the water girl announced, “Now we begin,” and she turned the spoon in her hand.

The first full stroke landed solidly on Shumara’s left breast. It was followed immediately by strikes that alternated from breast to breast. Shumara’s screams became almost continuous as the flat, slotted, wooden spatula continued to fall repeatedly on her nipples. When she thought that she could scream no louder, the water girl stepped slightly to the side and began pounding her cunt with blow after blow. Her screams filled not only the kitchen, but the great hall and the great hallway beyond. Just as she thought that she would lose her mind for the pain, she suddenly felt the handle of the spoon being thrust between her lips and teeth so that she was holding it in her mouth like a dog with a long bone.

The water girl bent low over Shumara’s face and whispered, “I enjoyed that more than you ever did when you beat me. I am wet between my legs and will dream of this whenever I am lonely in my bed at night.” With that she laughed and reached down and stroked Shumara’s swollen cunt. Shumara gasped in pain at even the light touch. “I think you will remember it too,” laughed the water girl as she stepped back into the crowd. Shumara felt herself sliding into a semi-conscious haze to escape the pain which consumed her body.

The collar brought her back to full consciousness, though, as a man’s voice boomed out. “Former princess, you have a choice to make. I know where I will leave this spoon if you remain as you are, and I know where I will leave it if you turn back over onto your stomach. So the choice is yours. Do I continue to pound you cunt and tits and then leave this spoon in your twat, or do you roll over and I pound your ass and legs and then leave this spoon firmly embedded in your royal ass?”

It was then that Shumara remembered that she had once beaten Donhara Three and left him standing in the kitchen next to his ovens with this very spoon protruding from his ass. She did not answer, but instead began to turn her body as if to roll over onto her stomach. The pain was tremendous, and alone she could not have done it, but the collar overrode her pain and forced her muscles to act. That, and the help of several of the servant women, allowed Shumara to return to her original position with her now swollen breast hanging over the edge of the counter. She had hoped that this would help her escape further pain to her cunt, but as she lay on the counter, she realized that all of her weight was now pressing down on the very area which was so badly bruised.

“So be it,” spoke Donny Trey, and he began to strike her buttocks, legs, thighs and back. He was older, larger, stronger, and filled with the memory of what she had once done to him and to his daughter. Each stroke made a loud splat that was heard even above Shumara’s screams. Each stroke also left a raised red welt with darker red dots that marked where the holes had been drilled in the spoon. By the time he had finished, Shumara was no longer screaming, but instead just whimpered weakly with each blow. When the fifty strokes had been delivered, the cook walked over to the bucket that sat on the floor next to his stoves and plunged the handle of the spoon into the greasy mess. As he walked back to the center counter he stopped for a moment at his preparation table and sprinkled something red and powdery over the handle of the spoon.

“I greased this as the collar recommended, but I also added just a touch of spice so that you will not forget me or what you did to me and my daughter.” With that he pushed the handle of the spoon roughly between Shumara’s legs and into her puckered asshole. Her whole body vibrated as the cayenne pepper began to burn within her, but the collar soon reclaimed total control of her body and held her still.

Despite the pain she slid off the counter under the collar’s control and onto her feet. She stood there with her arms held slightly out from her body, a spoon in each hand, one in her teeth, and one protruding from her ass like a stiff wooden tail. She clumsily turned in a complete circle so that everyone could see everything and also so that she had to look at everyone as they smiled and laughed at her complete humiliation. Then with a slightly stiff and clumsy walk caused both by the beating and by the spoon still stuck in her ass, she wobbled off into the great hall to stand outside the kitchen door where she had made many servants stand after being beaten by her.

The response of the various people who came into the hall for the evening meal was almost identical. As each came through the main doors, they would catch sight of Shumara standing with her arms held straight out from her body, each hand holding a giant spoon, another giant spoon in her mouth and a fourth sticking out of her ass. All conversation would cease as they took in the grotesque sight, but then smiles would form as they pointed at her and said, usually loud enough for her to hear, “I see Shumara has finally gotten a taste of her own medicine.”

Finally the meal was ended, the hall was cleaned and the servants had all gone off to their rooms for their night. As the lights dimmed, Shumara, the spoons still in place, waddled through the great hall, down the hallways and into her room. Once in her room, the collar again partially released control of her body back to her mind. A clear voice spoke within her head saying, “As long as you do not attempt to leave this room or speak to anyone through the doors or windows, you may remain in control of your body.”

Feeling herself in control, Shumara immediately dropped the two spoons and spit the spoon out of her mouth. She then gingerly reached behind herself and slowly pulled the final spoon from her ass.

“I sense conflicting emotions within you,” said the voice. “You hate what happened and yet there is something about it that entices you. I can sense that it was not what was done, but the fact that it was done in public that has humiliated you. In fact, you secretly wish that they had done one final thing to you, don’t you?”

“I wish no such thing!” Shumara yelled out loud, even though she knew that there was no one with her but the collar, and it could read her thoughts.

“Don’t lie to me or I will punish you,” said the collar.

After a long silence the collar continued, “Or is it that you want me to punish you? Do you want me to do to you what you secretly wished that they had done in the kitchen?... or even on a table in the center of the great hall?”

“Please do it,” whispered Shumara, her head dropping in shame at what she had just said.

Her face immediately resumed the fixed expression that indicated that the collar was once again in control. Her movements were the measured pace of the collar’s control as she picked up all four of the spoons from where she had thrown them on the floor, lay back on the bed, and holding all four handles tightly together, thrust the spoons into her cunt as far as they would go. Holding all four spoons together, she began moving them in and out of herself at a steady pounding pace. Her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps as her hips bucked against her hands until finally with a scream that was the same and yet different from what had been heard in the kitchen she clamped her legs tightly around her hands and moaned and thrashed upon the bed.

“That wasn’t me, Shumara,” said the voice from the collar. “I released control before you picked up the first spoon. That was you. And it proves that you did lie to me. So, now comes your punishment.”

Shumara’s hands, now under the true control of the collar, again began their pounding thrusts. She moaned and thrashed and yelled, “No, please no!” But her hands kept pounding and pounding until she clamped her legs together in orgasm not once, not twice, but ten more times. Finally, the voice from the collar spoke in her mind, “Sleep well, former princess. Your body will heal overnight. You have five more days of preparation, but I know already that it will be very difficult to come up with a proper punishment for someone such as you.”

END CHAPTER TWO OF EIGHT

1Kollany Thirty-Five

by The Technician

Chapter 03 - Judgement Day minus Five

A little after dawn, Shumara woke to the voice of the collar telling her that she had a long day ahead of her. It instructed her to clean herself and prepare for the day. After she had showered and dried herself and applied some of her scents and perfumes, the collar told her it was time to go to the Great Hall for breakfast.

As she walked naked down the Great Hallway, men whom she once thought of as friends stared lustfully at her body. Women who had once attended parties in her home averted their eyes as she passed, but smiled or laughed openly at her shame and debasement as she continued down the hallway. Through all of this, Shumara stared straight ahead and kept her head high. She would not give them the pleasure of seeing her break.

As she walked to her table, she could hear conversation stop and then begin again as a low buzz after she had passed. She knew from the way that people turned away from her as they spoke that they were talking about her, but something about the way that people also looked around the room or at the entrances told her that they were expecting someone else to arrive. Something else was going to happen this morning, and they knew what it was. She began to speculate about what it was that might be. What was going to happen to her and to whomever else people were expecting to come to the Great Hall?

Her mind was brought back to the present by the collars curt instruction, “Eat your gruel.” “Fuck you,” she said silently to herself before remembering that the collar did not need her voice to know her thoughts. The collar buzzed slightly and her arm moved so that her hand could pick up the spoon. No longer under her control, her arm and hand shoveled spoonful after awful spoonful of that dreadful stuff into her mouth.

The collar’s control of her was much more complex than she had realized. Under its control her arm and hand fed her and her mouth opened to receive the slimy slop, but she had to consciously chew and swallow before the next spoonful was shoved into her mouth. “Please, I’m sorry,” she thought to the collar, “but I really do hate this stuff. I’m sorry I said ‘Fuck you.’ I will do what you want if you will just let me not finish this entire bowl... or at least let me eat it a little slower.”

“Slower it is,” replied the collar, “but you had better finish the entire bowl or you will have another just as large to gobble down.” Her arm relaxed as the collar returned control of her body. She sighed deeply and again picked up the spoon and slowly finished the bowl of gruel.

A servant girl came and took the empty bowl just as the time bell struck the hour. The collar again spoke to her, “I am going to again take total control of your body. This is not as punishment or because you have defied me, but because what you now need to do and say, you could not do and say on your own.”

Shumara’s body again took on the slight stiffness that marked the collar’s control as she got up from the table and walked to the front of the hall. Stepping up on the speaker’s platform in front of the podium, she addressed the crowd. “Superiors of me, I beg your indulgence and your attention. You all saw and heard me on the vid-cast when I confessed that I attempted to poison my father, the king. At that time I also named Prince Humara Nine as one of my accomplices. There were others, and today you will be shown who they were and will witness their sentencing and final punishment.”

Shumara stood stiffly in place as Humara walked into the Great Hall from a side entrance. He, too, was controlled by a collar locked around his neck. She continued to speak the collar’s words. “The man formerly known as Prince Humara Nine was weak and stupid. He believed that I loved him and he agreed to help me with my plan, not knowing that my plan included his death.” The look on Humara’s face made it evident to everyone that this was the first time that he had realized that even though Shumara had willingly and eagerly given him every form of sex imaginable, she had not loved him and thought of him merely as an expendable tool to be used and thrown away. “His sentence has been set and his final punishment will be in five days on the same day as mine in the main square of Kollany Thirty-Five Prime.”

Humara walked to the edge of the platform and stood facing the people. A guard walked in from the same side door from which Humara had come. He was naked except for the collar around his neck, but his dark, almost leather looking skin clearly marked him as being of the soldier class. “Mulama Eight betrayed his oath to protect the king in return for several nights of sex with me and the promise of many more nights to come. He knew I did probably did not love him, but he gladly accepted my body as enticement to treachery. Despite his weakness, he is a soldier at heart and in his deepest being desires to continue to serve the guards of Kollany Thirty-Five. The One has read his mind and his heart and has devised a punishment that will be a deterrent to others who may think of betraying the oath and duty of the guards, but at the same time will allow Mulama Eight to continue to serve the guards.”

Mulama Eight walked stiffly forward towards a small table that had been placed in the front of the hall. On it were several small cups each containing several pills. He picked up one of the cups and began swallowing the pills and capsules one by one. When he had completely emptied the cup, a watcher guard stepped forward and removed the collar from his neck.

“Genetic modifiers have been prepared which will accomplish The One’s purposes,” explained Shumara. “Watch the sentence and punishment of Mulama for the crime of treason and betrayal. See also the mercy of The One in allowing Mulama to continue to serve the guards as...” Shumara paused as Mulama writhed and twisted under the effects of the genetic modifiers. When the transformation was complete, she continued, “a guard companion.”

Mulama now stood before the people as a woman. She was not a beautiful woman, but she was not overly homely either. She was what many would describe as “sturdy.” And sturdy was exactly what she would need to be as a guard companion. A few of the guards were married, but most were single and lived in the barracks. Guard companions cleaned the barracks, prepared the food, mended uniforms and other clothing, and most importantly in the eyes of many of the guards, provided sexual services.

Mulama looked down as his, now her body and wept a woman’s tears. “Mulama, you are a conscript companion, the lowest of the guard companions, and you are assigned to barracks twenty-seven.”

That was Mulama’s former barracks. Her head flew up and her eyes went wide as she screamed, “No!” Shumara continued, “You will do this willingly or under the control of a collar,” and Mulama lowered her head, continued her weeping and walked slowly over to one of the guards who stood at the side of the hall. They then left the hall together.

“Mulama Eight agreed to allow Hamara Nine to act before killing him so that he could not name me,” continued Shumara. “What he did not know is that I had also paid Thomasa Four to kill him. I did not pay Thomasa with my body, nor speak to him directly, but used written notes and silver so that he could not know for sure whom it was who was buying his sword.”

Another guard, also naked and wearing a collar entered. He, too, went to the table with the cups and began taking the genetic modifiers.

“Thomasa Four, for some silver coins, you were willing to allow the king to die and were willing to kill a fellow guard. The One has seen your heart and you have the heart not of a soldier but of a viscous killer. Your punishment is that you shall become what your heart already says that you are.”

Thomasa, like Mulama before him twisted and writhed as the modifiers changed his body. But unlike Mulama, he fell to the ground on all fours. He flesh turned darker and darker. Black fur began to cover his body. Two guards stepped forward and replaced the control collar on his neck with a thick leather collar. Each guard held a strong leash that was attached to the collar. Two other guards stood close by with long spears. Thomasa, now a sleek, black panther-like animal roared and hissed as the guards held him taut between them.

“You will be taken to the wilds on the far side of Kollany Thirty-five. There you may live, breed, kill and be killed like the animal that you are.”

The guards led him into a cage and rolled the cage out of the hall.

Shumara paused and looked out at the assembled people of the ruling class. “It is not easy to kill a king,” she began. “As you know, a person of the ruling genetic class is immune to nearly all poisons and diseases. My plan was to use a genetic modifier to strip the king of his immunity and then a poison to kill him.”

A young woman, beautiful in her nakedness, entered the hall from the same door as had the condemned guards. She had the pale, almost white skin of the healers. She looked terrified as she walked to the front of the room and picked up one of the cups filled with medicine.

“Kemala Seven is a nurse. I came to her asking for a poison to put a close relative out of their misery. I explained to her that my great-grandmother was dying of old age and was suffering greatly. The blessing of a perfect body can also be a curse when that perfect body, at long last, begins to wear out. You all know that it takes a long time for a person of the ruling class to die. Our perfect bodies do not easily give up. Kemala in her naive compassion stole poison from the medical stores and gave it to me.”

Kemala stood silently before the crowd. Everyone was waiting to see into what she would transform, but she remained standing tall, pale and beautiful as the guard removed the collar from around her neck.

“Kemala shall not be transformed. She is a healer. The One has read her mind and her heart. She has great skills and great compassion. What she lacks is experience and wisdom. She shall remain a healer, but for the next ten years she shall wear a control collar set to guidance mode. It will instruct her and keep her from repeating the mistakes of her youth.”

Kemala also bowed her head and wept, but her tears were tears of joy and relief.

“She must however,” continued Shumara, “be punished for her actions. She is to be publicly whipped and displayed as a deterrent to those who choose to defy the codes of their class. If she is willing to accept this judgement, she must present herself to the guards to receive forty-nine lashes of the woman’s flogger. Kemala, do you accept this punishment?”

Kemala, bowed her head slightly, nodding it up and down, and walked slowly and with shaky steps to a frame that had been brought in and placed nearby. She lifted her hands and two guards bound them to the tops of the frame. They also bound her feet to the poles at the base of the frame.

“Kemala, you are allowed to scream and beg. Nothing that you say as you are flogged will be held against you nor will you be punished further for what you say while enduring pain. Guard, you may begin.”

With that one of the guards stepped up behind Kemala and began swinging his whip. It was the lighter, woman’s flogger, but he was an expert. The flogger’s many leather straps traced a pattern of welts and stripes on Kemala’s white flesh beginning just below her neck and continuing all the way down to her ankles. She screamed on the first strike and continued to scream and yell and curse the guard, the people, and The One throughout her beating. The One had indeed been wise is forgiving her in advance for what she might say under the kiss of the whip.

The two guards on either side of her both counted the strokes loudly so that all, and especially the guard with the whip could clearly hear the count. When they yelled out, “Thirty-eight,” he lowered his whip and said, “The One has instructed that you remember forever this last strike of the whip.” With that he swung the whip upward between her legs so that it slapped against her sex with a resounding crack. She screamed one final scream and hung limp in her bonds.

The collar instructed the guards through Shumara’s voice, “Take the frame to the dinning room of the healers. She is to remain there until the evening meal has finished. Then she is to be taken down and her wounds attended to.”

The guards moved some levers on the frame and it suddenly rolled freely across the floor as they pushed the now unconscious nurse down the hallway to the dinning room of the healers.

A final figure entered the hall from the doorway of the condemned. She was old and stooped. As she walked she relied heavily on the assistance of a large stick. Thankfully, she was not naked. With great difficulty, she approached the table whereon sat the cups with the modifier capsules. As she picked up the final cup and began taking the pills, it was obvious that she was NOT wearing a collar.

“Mukama One is one of the ‘old chemists’ and has created many DNA modifiers... both legally and illegally. She has, until now, however, been forbidden to ever create or use one particular formulation that she has always claimed she could create. According to her, this modifier, if it works as she claims, can be used only once. In reward for her loyalty to the king and to Kollany Thirty-Five, The One has given her permission to formulate that modifier and to use it on herself.”

Mukama One began to writhe and twist as the DNA modification of the pills began to take effect. She also began to tear at her shawls and other clothing. Soon she was crouched naked before the crowd. Suddenly she stood up, stretched her arms high above her head and yelled, “Yesssssssssss!” She then walked in a bouncing dance step forming a small circle while pumping her hands in the air and repeating, “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Mukama One had reason to celebrate. The ancient hag was gone. Now she was young, and beautiful, and radiating sexual energy like a fog throughout the room. Her skin color had not changed, but had become slightly lighter as it changed into the clear, unblemished skin of the young. She was a beautiful, light chocolate color that was not of any genetic class. It was the skin color of “the old ones from the days before.” Her hair also did not match any genetic class, but was a deep brown and fell across her shoulders in flowing waves. Her breasts were large, but firm, with nipples and areolas of deep chocolate brown. The men watching licked their lips and swallowed nervously. The women fanned themselves with their hands and stared as she threw her arms into the air and yelled out in a deep, melodious voice, “Strut it if you got it, and I got it!”

She then walked up to face Shumara, motioned at her body with her hands and said, “Honey, I do gooooood work. I prepared all of the modifiers that were used today. Mulama is the perfect guard companion fuck slut; Thomasa is the perfect panther; Hamara will be the perfect... well that’s a surprise for later; and you, my darling..., you will be my masterpiece. You already gave me your DNA so I have all the sequencing in place and ready. All I need is final instructions from The One and you will be exactly whatever it is he decrees that you should be.”

Mukama then started bouncing and dancing her way toward the exit, stopping every so often to again shout to the crowd, “I do gooooood work!”

Shumara realized that she was shaking. The collar must have released her. She also realized that warm liquid was pouring down her legs. What Mukama told her so joyfully had literally scared the piss out of her. Until Mukama had screamed it in her face, it had not really sunk in that her final punishment would be transformation into a lesser person or an animal or worse. She stood and trembled in shock and fear as the Great Hall began to empty. The collar spoke in her mind, “Don’t you have an appointment with some rooms and offices?”

“Yeah, I know,” she responded, lowering her shoulders and moving toward the exit. As she began to walk out of the room she started recited softly to herself in a sing-song voice, “I am Shumara Seven. I was a princess in line for the throne, but because I went against The One’s rules for our society and for my gene class, I am now nothing. Please watch my sentencing and final punishment in five days.”

END CHAPTER THREE OF EIGHT

1Kollany Thirty-Five

by The Technician

Chapter 04 - Judgement Day Minus Four

Shumara had reached the middle of her week of instruction. The collar woke her shortly after dawn and told her to clean herself for the day. Shortly thereafter, she made her way to the Great Hall and silently ate her breakfast at her solitary table wondering what terrible things the day held in store for her.

But the collar remained silent as she ate and except for a quiet, “Time to go,” it continued to remain silent as she started her tour of the palace and office complex. Since everything seemed so quiet, she was hoping that she could go back to her room and rest for a while, but that was not to be.

Just as she completed the last hallway of the auxiliary office building, a woman of the ruling class stepped up to her and said, “Former Princess Shumara Seven, please listen to what I have to say.”

Shumara stopped and turned. The woman continued, “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

Shumara’s eyes crinkled as she quickly went through her memories trying to place this beautiful woman of royal blood.

“Perhaps if you were to imagine me with slightly less straight teeth... and darker, more coarse hair... and, of course, the almost bronze skin of the class that normally works outside.?”

Shumara suddenly gasped and said, “Towanna Twelve! Is it really you?”

“Yes, it is me, Shumara. I was one of the first victims of your power as a princess, but this revenge is neither the first nor last against you. When you were but thirteen years old, I was in charge of one of the groups of servants who maintained the grounds around the palace. You accused me of tampering with the security fence so that Rashama Eight could slip into your private garden and rape you. In reality, it was you who had tampered with the security field from the inside. You looped the memory so the record showed that I had deactivated it, as I had on the day before to allow my crew to work on the shrubs and flowers of the empty garden.”

“You then waited for Rashama to come past the area cleaning the sidewalk. You called out to him as though you were hurt. You knew that people in pain were his weakness. In his desire to help you, he didn’t even realize that he had crossed into the forbidden area. Once he was within the garden, you reactivated the fence and explained to him that he was trapped there with you and if he did not remove all of his clothing and display his body to you, you would scream for help and claim that he had tried to rape you.”

“Rashama was a bit of a legend among the cleaning crews. It was said that his prick was larger than any of the huge security dogs that roamed the area at night and only slightly smaller than a donkey’s. Partly you were sexually interested, but mostly you wanted to win a bet with your friend, Secuma Six, about whether you could get proof of Rashama’s actual size.”

“Once you had seen his member, however, you decided that you wanted to be able to also brag that you had sex with him, and so you ordered him to fuck you. Your exact words were, ‘You had better give me the best fuck of my life or I will totally fuck up the rest of your life.’”

“Out of fear he complied, but one of your bodyguards decided to make an unscheduled check on your safety. You saw him coming down the path and began screaming for help and claiming that Rashama had raped you. You even begged your father to see that Rashama be castrated and sent to the furthest labor camp for the rest of his life. When people began to wonder how Rashama had gotten inside the security shield, you suggested that he had to have been working with someone, and even said that it had to have been me.”

Shumara just looked at the ground as Towanna spoke.

“You even convinced the guards that it would give you closure to slip the control collar onto my neck yourself. That very afternoon, you came up behind me as I was inspecting a just-completed section of new planting and with your own hands closed the collar around my throat.”

“As you now know, the collar can read memories and it immediately knew that I was innocent. More than that, it read my desires and abilities and realized that I was capable of much more than just supervising a garden crew. By The One’s direction, a DNA modifier was prepared for me and I was transformed into a woman of the ruling class. In like fashion, Rashama, to match his desires and abilities, was transformed into a member of the medical class. The king wanted to keep everything quiet so we just disappeared to our new lives.”

“If things worked out so well for you and Rashama, of what revenge do you speak?” asked Shumara.

“It is not my revenge, but the revenge of The One of whom I speak. Something you do not yet know, but will, is that once you have worn the control collar, it modifies your mind so that The One can speak to you directly if it desires. It can also hear your thoughts and memories, but only if you desire it to do so. The One has asked me to speak to you and has requested that you prepare yourself to endure the punishment that you had ordered for me and Rashama. Do you remember what that was?”

Shumara’s face drained of color. Yes, she remembered. She thought it would be exciting to watch Towanna and Rashama struggle to replace the donkeys that normally pulled the carts used by the grounds crews. She had imagined Towanna, naked and slippery with sweat, as she tried to pull the heavy carts across the ground. “You were going to replace the Donkeys on the carts for a day.”

Towanna continued, “And then for the night? What had you planned for me for the night?”

Shumara swallowed hard and spoke in a soft whisper. “I promised the guard in charge of the security dogs that I would sleep with him if he would spray you with the scent of a female dog in heat and put you in with the dogs overnight. When you and Rashama disappeared, he demanded that I let him fuck me anyway or he would tell what had really happened. I later arranged for him to be transferred to the outer areas so that no one would ever know.”

“There is a cart of manure waiting for you at the front entrance to the palace gardens,” began Towanna. “You are to pull that cart on every path in the entire garden complex, and you shall pull it swiftly for you must finish before sunset. When you have completed every path, you will report to the kennels and to the guard in charge of the dogs. He will spray you with the scent of a bitch in heat and put you in with the dogs until dawn.”

The collar buzzed slightly as though it was powering up to take control of her body. That was all the encouragement that Shumara needed to began walking swiftly towards the gardens. A silent command of “faster” caused her to break into a run. She was already covered with a thin sheen of perpetration before she arrived at the cart.

It was a standard garden cart except that there was no donkey’s yoke. Instead suspended between the pulling poles of the cart was, for lack of a better description, a pair of leather panties with chains attached to their wide, belt-like top. There were also two leather restraints for her hands, but these were positioned outside the poles in exact alignment with where her body would stand. They insured that she could not use her hands to pull the cart.

It was obvious that all pulling would be done by the panties, and that Shumara was to put on those panties. Not so obvious were the two short stubs that stuck up inside the leather. As she slipped her legs into the pulling panties, she felt the longer of the two nubs begin to push its way into her slit. As she pulled them completely into place, the shorter nub entered her ass. She then tightened the buckle at the front of the belt until everything was snug. The four chains, two on each side of her leather panties, now held her firmly in place between the poles. When she placed her wrists in the cuffs outside the poles, she must have triggered some sort of mechanism because they tightened automatically and held her hands in place. She was now bound to the cart as firmly as any donkey had ever been.

Shumara leaned forward and strained to get the cart moving. Most of the pressure was on her hips as she pushed forward against the belt, but some pressure was also against her sex, and as she strained to pull the cart, she could feel her muscles tighten around both dildoes.

Soon the cart was rolling and Shumara was trotting at a steady pace. Each time the wheels of the cart went over some small bump, such as a small stone or the expansion cracks in the sidewalk, the cart would pull back and the poles would bounce downward. Once over the obstruction, the cart would lurch slightly forward and the poles would bounce upward. The effect was that Shumara’s hips were being forced forward and back in a running pelvic thrust while the dildoes fucked her ass and pussy. She smiled slightly as she thought, “If a quickie is a fuck and run, what is a fuck while running? A super quickie?”

After running for several minutes, however, she realized that this was much more than a super quickie. This was not a fast fuck and then running off to something else. This was a slow, continuous fuck while she ran. Her body was hot with the exertion of pulling the cart and her sex was hot with simulation and need. Physical and sexual heat radiated from her like a red glow. She shone with a thick sheen of sweat. It dripped from her breasts and ran in rivulets down the inside of her thighs. Mingled with the sweat on her thighs was also the juice of her sex, flowing freely from the continuous stimulation of the dildoes as she trotted through the maze of paths that made up the royal gardens.

The heat continued to rise within her and soon she felt an orgasm building. Her inner heat was driving her now and she was running full out, her head tilted back, with soft moans of “Oh.... Oh.... Oh.... Oh....” escaping from her open mouth. Several people had been invited to a special tour of the gardens this afternoon. As Shumara ran past them she recognized most of them as people whom she had cheated, tricked, abused or falsely accused. Their smiles as she passed showed the height of their satisfaction at seeing Shumara’s shameful punishment.

Shumara, however, was feeling no shame. She was feeling lust... pure unadulterated lust as she strained against the leather pulling garment trying to reach an orgasm while she ran. Finally what she sought overwhelmed her. She cried out and attempted to stand still as her body shook with release, but the weight of the cart pushed her forward and she staggered down the path screaming and crying out “F—U—C—K MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” She regained herself in time to avoid running into two women of the office class who clapped their hands together, laughed out loud, and gleefully said, “Run, Shumara, Run or someone will stripe you ass with a whip before they fuck it with a cactus.”

She did not remember their names, nor did she remember exactly what she had done to trap them naked on the roads behind the palace in the middle of the night, but she did remember riding along side them on her horse, swinging a whip at them and screaming out those exact words. The collar’s voice spoke within her head in its peculiarly flat way and said simply, “It does eventually come around, doesn’t it Shumara. But heed their words. You must run faster if you are to report to the master dog handler’s house before dark.”

Shumara leaned into the harness and again picked up speed. Perhaps the collar was helping her, because she was soon running as fast as she had ever run, slowing down only the two additional times when she had peaked with screaming orgasms.

The sun was down, but twilight was still bright when she arrived at the kennels and the house of the head dog handler. He looked at her and smelled her and crinkled his nose in disgust. “I don’t think I need to waste a bitch’s smell on you. You reek of sex. You ARE a bitch in heat. The dogs are already baying at your scent.” He released her hands from the restraints and ordered, “Take off your harness and follow me.”

For the first time this day, Shumara actually felt shame as she realized that she was exactly what the handler called her, a bitch in heat. At that moment, after hours of physical exertion and sexual stimulation, she didn’t care that she was going to be raped repeatedly by dogs... she didn’t care who or what fucked her... she cared only that she was a bitch in heat who needed to be fucked... fucked repeatedly and fucked very hard.

As she followed the handler into one of the large wire runs, he said, “There is already a bitch in the breeding cage but we haven’t let the studs into her yet.” A large black female dog stood with her head between two posts. She was held in place by some sort of harness around her chest and front legs. “These are pretty high spirited dogs,” explained the handler. “We don’t want the bitches fighting the studs, so we tie them in the breeding pen. That way she can’t turn and bite the stud who is servicing her. We’ve made a special breeding pen for you.”

Shumara’s eyes widened as she examined the strange devise before her. It appeared that she was to put her head through the hole between the posts and her arms in the leather cuffs on either side of the poles. After seeing the restrained dog, she was expecting that. But there was also a board with two holes in it on which she was to lay her chest. It appeared that her breasts would hang down beneath the board in some kind of enclosed box.

Seeing her perplexed look, the trainer explained, “These dogs aren’t used to teats that don’t give milk. Seeing those big jugs of yours, they just might try to get a quick drink and get real upset if they are dry. At least we think that is what happened when some fool milkmaid wanted to find out what it would be like to be fucked by a guard dog. He nearly tore her tits off. You might get some scratches on your back and a nip or two on your ass, but you will leave here with you tits intact. Now get yourself ready.”

Shumara knelt before the breeding pen and lay down on the breast protection board. The trainer lifted her hands and bound them securely in the cuffs. He then stepped in front of her and lowered the upper half of the restraint so that her neck was completely encircled and her head stuck through the hole as though it was mounted on a wall. Finally, he strapped her upper body securely to the chest board.

“There is one more thing, Former Princess Shumara. Do you remember many years ago when you were on a walk with one of your boyfriends. Something didn’t go right and he left you out in the country alone and horny. A young boy came walking by on his way to do chores and you ordered him to come over to where you were sitting under a tree and told him that if he didn’t crawl under your dress and lick you to orgasm you would put both his parents in prison. He cried all the time he was under your dress, but you got your orgasm.”

Shumara looked up at the trainer who now stood before her with a huge cock sticking out of his robes. “That was me. I don’t care if you cry or not, but you are going to suck my dick and you are going to use your tongue and lips to give me the best blowjob that any woman has ever given, or I will spray the scent of an alpha male on your ass and these dogs won’t fuck you, they will tear your ass to pieces!”

Shumara opened her mouth and sucked the trainers cock deep within her. Hearing the dogs bark and snarl in the next enclosure spurred her on as she slurped and licked and tried to give the handler the best blowjob that any woman has ever given any man. Finally the cock within her mouth twitched and spasmed and shot a copious amount of cum down her throat. Even if she had wanted to pull away as he came, she could not. The restraint system held her head firmly in place as he filled her mouth and throat with his cum.

The trainer rested his elbows on the top of the human breeder pen and kept his prick in her mouth until it softened. Finally, when he was ready, he pulled out of her mouth, put himself back inside his robes and leaned over to whisper in her ear, “There ain’t no such thing as alpha dog scent. But now you now the terror of the lie which you told me that day so long ago. I am going to let the studs in now. They can’t get up here by your head, but they should keep your tail busy until morning. Have a good night.”

With that he walked through a gate near the corner of the enclosure and pulled on a chain that lifted a small hatchway between the breeding enclosure and the one that held the studs. The entire pack soon spilled into the breeding area and the alphas claimed their prizes. Shumara smiled in satisfaction when she realized that the prime alpha had selected her, the human bitch, leaving the dog bitch to the lesser prime alpha.

The leader of the dogs was huge and brutal. He thrust into her fully on the first stroke and pumped with the frantic pace common to all dogs. As he thrust she could feel his prick hit her cervix. The pain was deep inside her, but it told her how big he was and how deep insider her he had penetrated and that caused her to moan and howl as loudly as the dog bitch in the pen beside her. She could also feel his knot beginning to form as his prick became tighter and tighter within her. Again there was pain, but again the pain merely told her how fully she was stuffed by the dog’s massive member. In the house, the trainer heard the howls of the two bitches in heat being serviced by the studs in the breeding pen, and he smiled as he sat down to his evening supper.

Soon Shumara’s cunt was filled with the prime alpha’s cum and shortly after that he began to try to pull out of her. Now the pain was only pain as he pulled and tugged in an attempt to get the knot back out of her womb. Eventually he went down enough that, facing away from her, he was able to pull out of her with a loud pop. He was soon replaced by the next dog down the alpha order of the pack. And so it went throughout the night. Between fucks, Shumara would murmer, “No; No more; Please no more; I can’t stand it.” but then the next dog would mount her and soon she would again be howling out her heat and passion.

Eventually the studs were satiated and she was left alone in her breeding pen. Somehow she fell asleep in the breeding position, her cunt gaping open and dripping copious amounts of cum onto the ground between her legs. Shortly before dawn the trainer returned to the pen and called the studs back into their own enclosure. He then released both of the bitches from their breeding pens. Shumara stumbled slightly as she stood up and full circulation returned to her arms and legs.

The trainer led her to the entrance. “One more thing,” he said as they stood at the gate. He picked up something from a bench alongside the entrance. It was a large leather dog collar with an attached leash. He slipped the leather collar around her neck just above the control collar and put the end of the leash in her hand. “Time to lead yourself home. That’s a training collar that will deliver shocks to help train a difficult puppy. It is set so that if you move too fast it will give you increasingly severe shocks until you slow back down. You are to walk back to your room slowly so that everyone can see what a well-fucked bitch looks like after a night with the pack.” With that he turned and walked back into the dog training area.

Too exhausted to care what people thought or said, Shumara began her slow walk back to the palace. The sun was bright in the sky before she reached her room and collapsed on her bed.

END CHAPTER FOUR OF EIGHT

1Kollany Thirty-Five

by The Technician

Chapter 05 - Judgement Day Minus Three

Shumara Seven woke suddenly as the extremely cold water of the shower struck her face. Immediately, her nipples stuck stiffly out from her breasts, and soon she was shivering from the cold. She tried to reach for the control handle to adjust for warmer water, but her arms would not move. They were under the control of the collar. The collar’s voice sounded clearly in her mind, “You wouldn’t wake up by me just telling you to awaken, so I brought your body in here. I will give you back control if you do not attempt to change the temperature of the shower.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“If you do not, you will remain under my control all day. You will now wash your hair and body thoroughly for five minutes, or you will crawl on your belly to the great hall and you will eat cold gruel for breakfast.”

Shumara felt her body begin to shiver violently as the collar suddenly released control back to her. She was not used to this. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t even used to showering herself. The shower stall was large and spacious primarily so that one or two servant girls could come into the shower with her to properly wash her hair and body in water that was at the proper temperature. Shumara was so particular about the temperature of her shower that she once had one of her serving girls publicly whipped for letting her step into the shower before it had reached the perfect temperature. Now she was standing under cold water that was painful on her breasts. And she would have to remain for five more minutes.

She put shampoo on her head and tried to wash her hair, but as she was rinsing out the suds she could take no more and reached up and turned the handle to warm. As soon as the handle moved she heard the slight buzz of the collar and felt her arm move on its own to push the handle back to where it was and beyond. It was now on the coldest position possible. What had been uncomfortable before was now almost unbearable.

“You will learn. It may take all week, but you will learn” said the collar as Shumara found herself sliding to the floor and slithering toward the door. Shumara had no idea how her body was capable of such action, but she was moving almost exactly as would a snake, leaving a wet and soapy trail on the carpet and then on the marble floors of the hallway.

All who saw her moving toward the great hall stopped walking, talking, or looking at anything else. The once proud and arrogant Princess Shumara Seven was now gliding like a snake on her belly toward the great hall. A large crowd was soon following her and making comments about the way she was moving her body. The snake-like undulations of her naked body were quite erotic to watch. Several of the men voiced their lewd thoughts on whether or not she would be that limber in bed. One wondered out loud whether or not it would be possible to fuck her as she slithered along. “My snake has never had a snake before,” he said to blushing and laughter from the crowd.

Shumara had thought that she could get no lower than when the collar had forced her to crawl among the tables begging for food on the first night, but this was much lower - both physically and emotionally. All of her humanity was gone. She was just a snake with the pussy, tits and ass of a human girl. Crying and wailing, but at the same time extending her tongue as far as it could go out of her mouth and flickering it like a common snake, Shumara slithered between the tables of the great hall until finally reaching the rough wooden table that had been reserved for her.

One of the servant girls from the kitchen was waiting for her. She set a shallow bowl on the floor in the open area near the table and Shumara, with her hands held tightly to her sides and the collar controlling every movement, began to eat by sticking her tongue into the cold, slimy mess and flipping and sucking the gruel into her mouth. At first she resisted and tried to keep her tongue in her mouth, but the collar was too strong to resist and she was soon lapping and sucking at the obnoxious mixture.

When about half of the gruel was gone, the collar’s voice warned her, “You will finish it all or you will rub your belly raw snaking your way from office to office today.” Then it released her body back to herself.

Without the collar’s control, she could push her tongue only about half as far out of her mouth, but she continued to keep her hands at her side and buried her faced in the bowl so that she could draw the gruel into her mouth. Finally the bowl was as empty as she could get it and she turned her head away and lay face down on the floor in shame. One of the serving girls stooped down over her and picked up the bowl. “Good doggy - or should I say snake,” snickered the servant as she carried the bowl back into the kitchen.

“Get up and walk back to you room. You have a ten-minute cold shower yet to finish.” instructed the collar.

“You said five before,” whined Shumara.

“Yes, that was before,” replied the collar. Then it added, “Do you want to try for twenty?”

Shumara pulled her legs up under her and slowly rose to her feet. She could feel gruel dripping from her hair. Her breasts and the front of her legs were covered with dust and filth from sliding on the floor. She stood motionless for several minutes, fighting now with herself instead of the collar. Finally, with a long and deep sigh, she began walking slowly back to her room. All eyes followed her as she walked, head down, out of the great hall and down the great hallway to her room.

Once inside her room, she looked at herself in the mirror and sobbed and cried at what she saw. Even the ashes girl had been cleaner than this. Crying and trembling she entered her bathroom, turned the shower on, and set the control to its coldest position.

Before she got into the shower, she looked up at the clock, but the collar spoke and said, “I will tell you when ten minutes are up. Wash you hair and body and after that you may do whatever you please, but you must stay under the water until the ten minutes are up.”

Shumara stepped into the shower and began to wash her hair. It was the first time that she could remember that she actually had to wash her own hair - or body for that matter. At least she still had her fine scented shampoos and body soaps. The scents helped her to think of better days before she had attempted to betray the king. With her hair now clean and her body freshly scrubbed, she stuck her head out of the shower to read the clock, but before she could clearly see it, the collar reminded her, “I said I would tell you when ten minutes are up. You have been in there three minutes, but because you looked at the clock, we will start over. You are to remain in the shower for another ten minutes.”

Shumara turned and stood directly under the spray. The cold water puckered her areolas and forced her nipples to become so erect that they were painful. She reached up to massage her breasts with her hands to perhaps warm them, or at least to cover them from the cold water of the shower. She gasped in surprise as her hands closed upon her breasts. Her nipples were not only erect, they were extremely sensitive - sexually sensitive. “It said I could do anything I pleased,” she thought to herself, “as long as I stay under the shower.”

Soon she was rubbing not only her breasts, but also between her legs. Despite the cold water pouring on her body, her inner heat was building. She was starting to moan with pleasure and her legs were beginning to buckle, so she lowered herself to the shower floor, leaned back, and sat beneath the shower with her legs spread so that the cold water pounded directly on her slit.

“I’m still under the shower,” she said to the collar, and then she began to rub her clit and slide her fingers in and out of herself. The mixture of cold and pain and manual stimulation eventually brought her to an intense orgasm. She lay back on the floor and let the shower continue to spray on her cunt as the afterglow slowly faded.

“How much time do I have left?” she asked the collar.

“You could have gotten out six minutes ago, but I wasn’t able to break through your intense emotions to speak with you, and I had promised you that I would not take back control of your body if you stayed for ten minutes. I keep my promises.”

“Oh, yeah,” muttered Shumara as she rose to her feet, turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. “Time to go let the peasants in the offices laugh at me again.”

“Perhaps you will find your walk instructive,” suggested the collar. “That is, after all, the true purpose of it.”

“We will see,” replied Shumara as she left her bedroom and padded slowly down the great hallway toward the grand stairway that would take her to the office area of the palace.

On the third floor of the palace offices, two young women approached her. They were both the dark ebony black of the scientific class, and they were identical. They stood before her staring intently at her as she stared no less intently at them, and then, simultaneously, both of them broke into huge grins. Shumara had seen that simultaneous smile before. “Tukuhama five and Tukuhama six, it has been a long time.” She paused and then added, “You’ve changed.”

“Yes it has, former princess,” they responded. “And yes we have changed. Three years ago, we were part of your maids in waiting. Our skin was the dark golden of the royal personal servants.... where it was not red or purple from the welts and bruises of your frequent beatings. And then came that day when we all were caught outside in a thunderstorm. It was impossible to keep your canopies and parasols over you to shield you from the wind and the rain and you were drenched by the storm. You screamed all that way back to the palace that it was our fault and that we would pay dearly for it.”

“When we got back to the palace, the weather scientists told you that the storm would last for several days and you said that was delightful because you could use the storm to punish us. You were always very inventive in coming up with new forms of punishment. Punishment by the elements was one of your crueler inventions.”

“You had us each tied naked between two tall poles facing each other on the top of the hill. You then had long metal rods pushed into our ass and pussy and wedged against the ground. The poles acted like the legs of a tripod so that we were held more or less immobile. You then returned to the palace and waited for the storm and the lightning to return.”

“We would have died on that hilltop, but one of the weather scientists came back with a huge reel of copper wire and strung it over us on the top of the poles. He then led the wire as far away from us as he could and connected it to several metal rods he had pounded into the ground. He told us, ‘I can’t release you or the Princess would have me severely punished and she would just come up with some other way to kill you.’”

“He must have seen the terror on our faces because he continued, ‘Yes, she knows what she is doing. She means to kill you with the lightening from this storm and claim that it was an accident during appropriate punishment. The wire will draw most of the power away from you, but until the storm is over, you are in great danger.’”

“When the storm re-intensified and the lightning began to strike nearby, the wires did keep it from directly striking us and killing us. But when it struck the wires or the ground close-by, the electricity would run through the ground, come up into our bodies through one of the iron rods and then would pass out through the other rod or through the chains to which our hands were tied. The pain was excruciating. We were badly burned, but we survived. Since you were so sure that we would not survive, you never bothered to check on us after the storm passed. You never knew that we were taken to the hospital where the healers used a diagnostic collar, similar to what you now wear. The One not only learned how to heal our burns and bruises, but also recognized that we had great potential as scientists. The One asked if we wished our class to be transformed and we readily agreed. We have done many great things for Kollany Thirty-five and are very happy with our new lives.”

“I am happy to hear that,” began Shumara. “But I don’t know how this concerns me.” After she said it, Shumara realized that it sounded like the wrong thing to say, but it was the truth. She had no idea how their ultimate good fortune affected her current situation.

“The One has said that you must make up for the wrongs which you have done. We survived our torture on the hillside, but after us, you came up with excuses to place others there. Two of them did not survive because you stationed guards to prevent anyone from making the protective shield that we had. If you wish to make amends for us and for all the other girls whom you tied on the hillside to be punished by the elements, you will report to the weather lab at two o’clock this afternoon. We have worked with the weather scientists to recreate that hillside. You will not have to fear, as we did, that this will kill you, but through this you will begin to understand how terrible you have been.”

With that they turned and walked away. Shumara stood for several minutes trying to grasp what she had just been told. Then the collar spoke within her mind, “You had better be hurrying. It appears you have a two o’clock appointment and will have to make all the offices before lunch.”

Shumara turned and hurried down the hallway. Apparently the offices were notified as she was coming because everyone was looking at the doorway as she entered and there was no delay to wait for others to come into the main area of the office. She felt like she were running between offices and continuously speaking her little spiel, “I am Shumara Seven. I was a princess in line for the throne, but because I went against The One’s rules for our society and for my gene class, I am now nothing. Please watch my sentencing and final punishment in three days. If you have break time available, there will also be a special about me on the Forecast Channel this afternoon on the vids.”

Out of breath and with a sheen of perspiration on her body, she completed the last office and hurried to the great hall in time to eat the noon meal. She asked nicely for something more palatable than gruel and was given a plate which looked the same as the others of lower class were eating. She was surprised when the serving girl brought her a second plate. “I was told that you might be missing supper tonight. Something about maybe being caught in a sudden rainstorm?”

At the end of the meal, the collar asked, “Do you want to announce this afternoon’s instruction session of your own free will, or do I lead you up to the podium?”

Shumara sniffed and wiped tears from her face, but without the control of the collar, she stood and walked slowly to the speaker’s platform at the front of the hall. She stood on the platform and announced in a loud voice, “Superiors of me, I beg your indulgence that I may announce that I am to be punished for - I mean I am to be instructed about my past actions at the lightning lab at 2:00 this afternoon. All who desire may come to witness my.............. instructional punishment.”

She then lowered her head and stood stiffly in front of the podium swaying slightly more than when the collar had held her in place the day before. Just before two she began a slow walk to the lightning lab located a little ways behind the palace. If someone, in some fashion, was totally unaware of the events of the past several days, he or she might think that Shumara was some strange naked drum majorette leading a parade through the hallways and across the sidewalks. There was a long column of the curious or the vengeful following behind her as she walked to keep her appointment with the hillside.

The weather lab was a huge dome that smelled of earth and storms. Tukuhama five, or perhaps it was Tukuhama six, met her at the door and announced to the rest of the group that they would have to watch from the safety of the observation platform and directed them through a separate door. She then led Shumara into the dark cavernous entrance of the weather lab itself. There was a large mound of earth in the center that looked very much like a natural hillside. It had grass and several tree stumps, but no actual trees. At the top of the grassy mound, two metal poles the size of small trees stood firmly in the ground. “You will stand between the poles,” instructed Tukuhama.

“I sort of figured that,” replied Shumara as she stationed herself with her legs spread out so that the outside of her feet touched the poles. She reached up her arms and grasped the metal poles so that her hands could be strapped to the chains. She knew that this was going to hurt - a lot, but she felt herself getting wet as she imagined herself being fucked by a bolt of lightning.

“What am I turning into,” she thought to herself, “that I would want to be fucked by a bolt of lightning.” Those watching were a little confused by her sudden grin, but if they could have read her thoughts like the collar, they would have known that she was telling herself, “Shumara, you haven’t changed. You have always wanted to be fucked by a bolt of lightning, you just never knew how to do it.”

Tukuhama five and six walked up to the top of the hill beside her. When they spoke, it was obvious that they were wearing some sort of microphone. “Fellow citizens,” began five, “where Shumara is, we once were. In some ways we should thank her for creating the opportunity for us to make the transition to the scientific gene class and for giving us such an avid interest in the science of electricity. But at the same time, this former princess must be punished for how she used the natural electricity of a summer storm to torture and to kill.”

Tukuhama six then raised up a rather long object that she was holding. It had a metal ball on one end of it a little larger than a fist. A wire ran from the other end out into the darkness. “Electricity, even very high voltage electricity, can be either useful or dangerous. It can be pleasurable or painful. Today, this woman, formerly known as Princess Shumara Seven, will demonstrate for us the entire range of what electricity can do to the human body. We will begin with pleasure.”

Six then approached Shumara and held the wand close to her body. Shumara could see that the ball on the end of the wand was glowing. As it came close to her skin, tiny arcs of electricity jumped from the ball to her skin. They tickled in a strange sort of way. Six moved the wand over her breasts and Shumara gasped with sudden erotic stimulation. Soon five joined six with another wand and both moved the glowing balls slowly across her skin. The lights had been turned out in the lab and to those in the observation deck, Shumara’s body appeared to be encased in a strange purple, glowing spider web. Shumara began panting and moaning as the two Tukuhamas carefully teased her toward orgasm. “I might like this punishment,” she thought as she approached release.

“But with more voltage, or just a little higher current” announced five, “pleasure can turn to pain.” The Tukuhama’s timing was perfect. Just as Shumara reached that perfect point right before orgasm, the gentle stimulation became a thousand stinging bees and her legs and arms jumped and vibrated with the current that surged through her body. Her scream echoed dully throughout the dark cavern of the lab.

Shumara heard one of the Tukuhamas chuckle slightly nearby and then heard their voice through the speakers. “So that everyone can see that clearly, we are going to repeat what we just did ten times.” Shumara’s groan could be heard without the aid of microphones.

Shumara could hear the soft buzzing of the wands as they once again approached her. Again they teased and tantalized her body with the glowing sparks. Again they brought her to the very edge of orgasmic release. And again they turned the glow into fire at just the precise moment so that what should have been screams of pleasure, were instead screams of pain. Each time, after the screams of pain had subsided, the buzz returned and the cycle of pleasure and pain began all over again.

“This is the last time,” six said quietly in her ear. “Then the lightning show begins.”

Shumara felt herself once again climbing the erotic mountain toward orgasm that she knew would be interrupted by a sudden fall into the valley of pain. “I wanted to be fucked by lightning,” she thought to herself, “this is just small lightning. Maybe if I really want it....”

Outwardly, Shumara was panting and moaning, and inwardly she was imagining a giant penis-shaped lightning bolt hovering just above her legs ready to plunge into her cunt in one giant stroke.

For a tenth time, those in the observation area heard the buzz of the wands turn to sharp crackling. They watched as Shumara screamed and twitched within her bonds, but for some reason, this time the scream sounded different. It was deeper and longer. It was almost a scream of passion rather than pain.

“And now the lightning storm,” announced Tukumhama five, “but first we need to complete our re-enactment.” Four workers in white coveralls walked up the hillside to where Shumara was bound. Two walked around in front of her and set down the long iron rod they were carrying. It looked familiar to Shumara, and it should have, it was one of the rods she had ordered fabricated for use on the girls she punished on the hillside. She grunted and gasped as it was pushed into her cunt and then forced into the ground. She gasped and screamed aloud as the second rod entered her anal sphincter. She shifted her weight slightly trying to make the rods less uncomfortable, but regardless of what she did they caused a dull pain within her.

Six continued their explanation, “What you see here is exactly the same as what then Princess Shumara Seven ordered done to nineteen young women, including my sister and myself. Four of those young women were left effectively insane. Two did not survive. All of us were changed by what we endured. My sister and I survived because a weather scientist risked his life to build a protective shield above us, but two others did not have that protection and died. Their deaths were claimed to be accidents which occurred during legitimate punishment, but after investigation, “punishment by the elements” has been strictly forbidden.

The One has granted us a special exception to perform this instructional re-creation for you because we have made sure that the former princess will survive. For those of you watching on the vid channel, a one-hour documentary summarizing both the wand demonstration and the eight hour storm will be shown tomorrow night at 7:00.”

Turning off their microphones, Tukuhama five and six walked over to where Shumara was so securely stretched and bound. Six walked behind her and Shumara heard a loud click and felt the collar open slightly. Six pulled it backwards off her neck and said to her, “The voltage might damage the collar, so we have to remove it temporarily.” She then walked down the hill with the collar leaving just Shumara and Tukuhama five upon the hill.

Five leaned in very close to Shumara’s ear and said very softly, “There was another reason we removed the collar. The routine that my sister and I have programmed into the computers isn’t exactly what was approved. We have added a few frills from the point of view of someone who was lashed to these poles under true weather conditions. I think you will still survive, but you might get to the point where you would prefer to die before this is over.”

With that she walked off the hillside into the darkness leaving former princess Shumara Seven trembling with fear and anticipation as she heard the whine of generators and the hum of high voltage as whatever it was that created the lightning blasts slowly charged with electricity.

Tukuhama’s voice again filled the room as she announced, “Fellow citizens. This woman who was once called Princess Shumara Seven bound nineteen young women to poles exactly like these to be “punished by the elements” as she called it. Some of us endured spring thunder storms, some endured the scorching heat of a clear summer’s day, others felt the cold rains of fall, and still others the frozen bite of winter. All of these weather conditions can be generated within this specialized laboratory. So sit back and watch as we compress one whole year into just 8 hours. Feel free to come and go as you wish, or to invite you friends to come and join you. We begin where all weather begins, in the spring with a thunderstorm.”

Shumara felt the temperature in the room suddenly begin to warm as a very bright light shone down on her from behind. The warmth on her back and her shadow on the ground were as if she were indeed standing on a hillside on a warm spring day. Then wind began to blow around her, warm at first, but growing cooler as the scent of water vapor tinged the air. Shadows of clouds crossed the ground in front of her and she looked up to see what appeared to be real clouds forming in the air above her. They grew darker and darker and soon the distinct rumble of thunder echoed all around her. Rain drops - huge, cold raindrops - stung her breasts and back and pummeled her from above. She was reminded of the cold shower the collar had forced her to endure a few hours before, but that was at least gentle and in her room, this was wind whipped rain that now pelted her entire front while hundreds, if not thousands of people watched. Raindrops would occasionally strike exactly on her nipples or her clit and she would cry out in a combination of surprise and pain. But for the most part, she just silently endured the rain.

Then lightening began to strike from the sky. She heard the snap and click of a bolt striking the ground somewhere behind her and saw the shadow of herself and the poles suddenly stark on the ground before her. Then the voltage hit. There was no experience to which she could compare the pain. Every muscle in her body went rigid as fire literally spewed from her hands and up the chains to the poles. A million flaming bees went through her, entering her ass and exiting through her cunt. The warm wetness on the pole in front of her told her that she had lost control of her bladder and wet herself. The smell behind her told her that somehow she had emptied her bowels around the pole which penetrated her from behind.

A murmur of voices told her that the crowd was pleased with what they saw. Either they liked the fireworks-like electric display or they found pleasure in watching the way it humiliated her and made her suffer. In all likelihood it was a combination of both.

The rain poured harder now and the wind blew so that it howled. Suddenly a thousand tiny rocks were pelting her from above. It was hailing. Some of the hailstones were sharp and cut her skin, but most just bruised her or raised welts.

Shumara began to wail in pain and distress. Her wail turned to a strangled, high-pitched scream of absolute pain as lightning struck directly on one of the poles. This was pure, unadulterated pain of the highest degree. There was no way that she could force this pain to become pleasure. Held as she was between the poles beside her and upon the poles within her, she couldn’t even really writhe in pain. All she could do was throw back her head and scream as the lightning truly fucked her body.

After that, no more lightning struck, but the rain continued more so than before. It became heavier and heavier until it peaked at a point where she could just barely breath for the water running down her face. Then it slowly slacked and the room began to get just a little brighter. The clouds were dissipating and the sun was coming out. Spring was giving way to Summer.

As the rains quit, Shumara relaxed slightly and gave thanks that at least the storm was over.

Soon the sun warmed her body and the hillside, and she almost began to luxuriate in its warmth, but in a very short time, what had been a comfortable warmth became blazing heat. The grass beneath her feet began to shrivel and turn brown. The chains in her hands became warm - even hot to the touch, and her golden skin began to redden and burn and blister in the unrelenting sun. “Water,” she begged. “Please give me some water!” but no one came. She was finally reduced to barely croaking out her repeated plea, “Water.... water... water.”

As the sun began to dim slightly, one of the Tukuhama sisters came up the hill carrying a very large cup. “Open your mouth!” she commanded and Shumara did so. Tukuhama put her hand on Shumara’s forehead and pushed back her head so that her face was pointed upward and then began pouring the contents of the cup into her mouth. It tasted like piss, and possibly was, but it was water and Shumara greedily swallowed down as much as she could of the foul smelling liquid as it overflowed her mouth and flowed down her body. Tukuhama dropped the empty cup to the ground in front of Shumara and walked back into the darkness.

Shumara looked down and tried to assess the damage to her body. She tried to encourage herself by saying aloud, “Halfway through and I’m still alive. I smell like piss, but I’m still alive.” Suddenly, however, she was flooded with emotion. She thought, and possibly said aloud, “What if I didn’t know that I was half way through? What if I didn’t know that this would last for only 8 hours? What if I didn’t know that I was intended to survive? What if I was really out here on a hillside all by myself? I would never be able to endure it.” For the first time in her life, Shumara began to cry not for herself, but for others and for how she had hurt them.

She hung in the chains that held her arms and wept as the sky again began to turn the blue of day. But this was not the blue of summer. This was the lighter blue of fall. The air was cooler. There was a smell of grass and leaves in the air. A small cloud formed overhead and soon a cold drizzle wet her body and made shiver in her chains. After nearly an hour, the drizzle gave way to the grayness of a late fall day. Shumara heard the honking of geese and saw the shadows of the large birds cross the ground. Suddenly she heard a splat and felt something warm and sticky on her left breast. She looked down to see white, slimy goose crap dripping off her nipple. “Nice touch, Tookie,” she said aloud. “You two always were the ones to take care of the details.”

The light again began to fade. Shumara dreaded what came next. She hated the cold. Winter was her least favorite time of the year even when she was indoors wrapped up in blankets and fur. She shivered almost violently as the temperature continued to drop. Soon small white flakes swirled around her. They stung almost like the sting of a bee when they landed on her skin and melted, but soon they melted no more. Snow began to pile up on her feet and on her hair and finally even on her shoulders and arms. Tukuhama’s words went through her mind and she wondered if they were not true that it would be better to die than to endure this.

But she did not die, not even when the wind began to howl and the snow filled the sky and build up in drifts around her feet. Even when the snow reached the cleft of her legs and she felt as if she were totally frozen, she did not die. Eventually the storm ceased and the angle of the sun changed and the snow began to melt away. It was early spring and the chirping of birds filled the air. Winter was transitioning once again into spring.

Or, at least it would have if the program had not come to an end. With a loud clang, the work lights of the weather lab switched on. Two men in white coveralls came up the hill and carefully removed the rods from Shumara’s ass and cunt. They then released the cuffs that held her wrists and ankles. One held out his hand as if to offer her support so she could walk down the hillside. She took a step toward him and collapsed at his feet unconscious.

END CHAPTER FIVE OF EIGHT

1Kollany Thirty-Five

by The Technician

Chapter 06 - Judgement Day Minus Two

Shumara Seven woke in her own bed in her own room. Pain shot through her body as she moved to push the covers off her body. Her skin was red and blistered. Deep red grooves surrounded her wrists and ankles. Small bruises covered her entire body. Grimacing in pain, she pulled herself to her feet and padded to the bathroom. It wasn’t until she stood before the mirror that she realized that she was not wearing the control collar.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked her reflection. Then straightening her back and standing up to her full height, she sighed deeply, turned the shower to its coldest setting, and stepped under it. Actually the cold water felt almost good as it numbed her body. She gingerly scrubbed off dirt and blood but still cried out in pain when she touched her swollen sex or attempted to clean the filth from crack of her ass.

She worked slowly and carefully and finally she was clean. She stepped out of the shower and patted herself somewhat dry with her towel. She then began a slow and painful walk down the great hallway, into the great hall, and over to her solitary table. All conversation stopped as she entered the hall and all eyes watched her make her slow and careful way to her table. Everyone heard her gasp of pain as her bruised and tender bottom first touched the rough wood of the bench on which she sat.

“May I have something warm and tasty this morning,” she asked the serving girl who came over to her table.

“I’m sorry Shumara,” the girl replied, but we have orders to give you cold gruel. “I will put a little brown sugar on it. They didn’t say I couldn’t do that, but I can’t warm it up.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

As the serving girl returned to the kitchen, Shumara, folded her hands before her, lay her head on her arms and wept. When the servant girl returned she set a large bowl of cold gruel on the table beside her and returned to the kitchen. Shumara raised her head, frowned at the bowl and began slowly eating the slimy mess. It tasted terrible, but she had not eaten since the previous noon and had missed meals the previous day also. To the her surprise and the surprise of everyone who was watching her, she finished the entire bowl.

Not knowing what else to do, she continued to sit there quietly. After a few minutes the serving girl returned from the kitchen and took the empty bowl. “Please wait here,” she said as she walked back to the kitchen.

Shortly after she left, one of the watcher guards walked over and set two items on the table before her. One was an envelope, the other was her control collar. “You have a decision to make,” said the guard. He then added, “Read the letter before you do anything” and walked back over to his station.

Shumara opened the envelope. The letter read: “Woman formerly known as Princess Shumara Seven, you have a decision to make. You can leave the collar on the table, walk out of here, and accept banishment for the rest of your life. If you do that, you will be taken to the wilderness where you will be given food and shelter and anything else that you need to live, but you will be forever cut off from all other inhabitants of Kollany Thirty-Five. Or, you can place the collar on your own neck and accept the punishment, guidance and transformation that it offers. The choice is yours.”

Shumara picked up the collar and rotated it in her hands. If she put it back on, it could heal her. But it also could - and most certainly would transform her on her day of judgement. If she chose banishment, all of the punishments would end, but so too would the intense sexual episodes - good and bad - that she had experienced. If she choose banishment, she would remain forever, Princess Shumara Seven, but she would have no one to order about or to talk with or to have sex with. The choice was hers.

She looked around the room. Normally most of the people would have left for their daily jobs by now, but today they had been told that Shumara would be given a chance to choose banishment over transformation. Guesses had been made. Bets had been placed. Everyone watched as she placed the collar back on the table and pushed herself slowly to her feet. She walked to the front of the Great Hall and once again stepped before the podium on the platform in front of the Great Hall. “Superiors of me,” she began, “I am Shumara Seven. I was once a princess in line for the throne, but because I went against The One’s rules for our society and for my gene class, I am now nothing. Please watch my sentencing and final punishment in two days.” She then raised the collar and clicked it in place on her neck.

“A wise choice, Shumara,” spoke the collar. “Since all have heard your announcement for today, there is no need for you to make your tour of the offices. You need to rest. Go back to your room and sleep and let your body heal. I will wake you for the evening meal.”

“I need your help,” said Shumara very softly. “Please take me back to my room.”

Suddenly the pain was gone. With control of her body surrendered to the collar, Shumara held her head high as she walked gracefully out of the Great Hall, down the Great Hallway, and into the blissful slumber of her bed.

END CHAPTER SIX OF EIGHT

1Kollany Thirty-Five

by The Technician

Chapter 07 - Judgement Day Minus One

A week had brought great change in Shumara Seven. The collar almost did not have to guide her at all. She eagerly strutted nude from her room, down the great hallway and into the great hall. She smiled and giggled to herself as some of her friends who had taunted and laughed at her at the beginning of the week now turned away from her brazen nakedness. Once, a former friend of hers, Dehata Eight, whom she knew to be extremely prudish about sexual things, stopped and stared at her with a look of total disgust on her face. Perhaps she hoped to shame Shumara for her wanton acceptance of her nakedness, but that did not work. Instead, Shumara paused, spread her feet slightly and then ran her fingers over her sex from deep between her legs to the top of her mons. She then turned her hand palm upward in front of her face and “blew a kiss,” to Dee Eight. Dehata’s eyes opened wide with surprise and her face flushed red as she quickly turned and hurried away. The words of Mukama One from earlier in the week echoed in Shumara’s mind, “Strut it if you got it!”

After breakfast, Shumara began her final tour of the rooms and offices of the palace and government buildings. It was not the collar’s demand, but her own choice that added wording to her little speech. As she stood in the middle of the first room she said, “I am Shumara Seven. I was once a princess in line for the throne, but because I went against The One’s rules for our society and for my gene class, I am now nothing.” She then continued, “My sentencing and final punishment is tomorrow at noon. That means that if you want me to make right what I have done wrong to you, you must act today.” She then waited silently for several minutes to see if anyone stepped forward.

In one of the rooms on the third floor of the palace area an older woman with the dark golden skin of a royal servant stepped forward. She was wearing a long, wrap-around type of dress that almost looked more like a robe. “I am Lakana Four. Do you know me, Seven,” she asked?”

“No,” replied Shumara.

“I didn’t think that you would remember me. You hardly ever noticed me as I waited upon you. I was once one of your maids in waiting. Among other things, it was my responsibility to bring you a beverage for your afternoon light meal. You were never satisfied with what I brought. There was always something that did not satisfy you. One day you went into more of a rage than normal and told me that everything that I brought you tasted like piss. Then you added that maybe if I knew what piss tasted like, I would know not to bring it to you. In front of all of the other maids, you made me lie down on the floor between your legs while you pissed in my mouth. You made me swallow it and beat me for what spilled on the rug around my face. Now do you remember me?”

Shumara swallowed hard and slowly replied, “Yes, I remember you. What do you want me to do?”

“I think you know,” she replied and then she turned toward the side door of the room and said slightly louder, “Ladies, it is time.”

A group of nearly a dozen women entered the room. Shumara recognized most of them. Until a week ago, they had been her personal servants - her maids in waiting. Normally they would have been wearing full gowns as befit those in the presence of a royal princess, but today they were wearing simple, short, shift-like dresses that ended halfway down their thighs. Lakana undid the sash of her robe and removed it. She, too, was wearing the short white dress.

She pointed at the floor before her feet and Shumara lowered herself to the floor and lay face up on the thick rug. “Open your mouth,” ordered Lakana, and Shumara did.

As Lakana stepped over her, Shumara could clearly see that she wore nothing beneath the simple shift. She stood straddling Shumara’s head and said softly, “You don’t know how long I have been wishing that I could do this,” and she let go with a stream of piss that splattered on Shumara’s face. Most of it went into her mouth and Lakana said sharply, “Remember to swallow.”

As soon as the stream fluttered to a stop, Lakana was replaced by another woman who laughed aloud as she released her golden stream into Shumara’s face and mouth. A third and then a fourth woman stood over her and released their water. Then Lakan said, “I think she has had enough to drink. Perhaps she needs a bath.” The remaining ladies gathered over Shumara’s body standing in a row from her head to her feet. It was as if she were encased in a tunnel of legs. As she looked up at the row of naked slits, she could smell the piss on herself and she could also smell the strong scent of at least one very excited woman - and it was not herself.

“They are getting off doing this to me.” she thought to herself. “I’ll bet they go back to their rooms and rub themselves raw after this, or maybe they will all go back to the same room and...” Her train of thought was interrupted as all eight ladies let loose at the same time, drenching her in a shower of piss.

After the last stream dwindled away, Lakana and the rest of the ladies walked silently out of the room through the side door. Shumara pushed herself to her feet and brushed her sodden hair back from her face. “That was interesting,” she said aloud as she left the room and walked toward the office complex to repeat her little speech and invitation.

At each stop throughout the day, Shumara delivered her speech with the implied invitation for personal punishment. Only one other person responded to her invitation, however. That occurred in the hallway on second floor of the office area after she had finished her tour of all of the offices themselves. Shumara spied a group of women who were mopping the hallway, and she stopped to address them. After she finished speaking they gathered around her and one of them, whose face seemed familiar to Shumara, said, “Do you remember the little game you used to play when you and your friends were bored on a summer’s day?”

Shumara remembered. They had only done it a few times, but it started when she and some of her friends had nothing to do on a very hot summer’s day and were roaming through the office building. They had come upon several cleaning women mopping one of the long hallways - this hallway. The women were stripped down to very little in the heat and humidity and after one of them warned her that the hallway was very slippery, she decided to see just how slippery it actually was. She made them re-mop the entire hallway so that it was very wet and soapy. Then she and her friends took turns seeing how far they could slide the cleaning women down the hallway on their bellies by pushing them with their own mops and letting them slide. When it became obvious that the women’s clothing was slowing them down, Shumara forced them to stip completely. Not only did they slide farther, but wedging the mop in the cleft of their ass cheeks gave a much better push.

“The girls would like to see how well you slide,” said the leader with a wide grin. “Soap it up,” she yelled over her shoulder. Then she turned back to Shumara. “I don’t have to tell you to strip, so just get on your belly on the floor and reach back and grab your ankles.”

Shumara had forgotten about that. One of her girl friends had said that the women were dragging their arms and legs too much, so she had ordered them to pull their legs up by grabbing themselves by the ankles and pulling themselves into a bow.

Shumara assumed the position. She heard a small laugh just before she felt the wet mop push itself into her ass cheeks. A moment later she felt herself gathering speed as she was pushed across the soapy floor. With her legs held tight, most of her weight was on her belly, but her breasts and cunt also slid across the smooth floor. The sensations were not unpleasant. In fact, Shumara liked it, but she did not want the women to think that she was enjoying herself so she kept her face turned toward the floor.

As she reached the other end of the hallway, one of the women turned her around with her mop and jamming it tightly against her ass pushed her back from where she had come. Back and forth she went, sliding on the wet floor, trying not to become excited, but feeling a fire grow between her legs never-the-less. Finally the women were through with her and let her slide to a stop in front of the leader. She pulled herself up to her knees and then sat back down with her legs crossed before her.

“Remember what happened to the losers, former princess?”

Shumara replied meekly, “Yes. The two winners who had slid the farthest were allowed to leave, but the two losers received 25 swats each with their own carpet beaters.”

“That’s right, honey,” replied the leader. “But since there is just you here today, you will have to be the winner and the loser. And since you don’t have a partner to share those swats, I guess you get to take all fifty of them. Back on the floor, princess so we can mop you up a little. The water won’t make any difference for the wire beater, but it will really help my big leather one smack against your ass.

Shurmara lay back down on the hard floor. Two of the cleaning women plunged their mops into their buckets and rubbed them across her back and thighs, thoroughly wetting her. Almost immediately she heard the swish of something and felt the first thwack of the carpet beater on her ass.

“That’s one,” said a voice.

A slightly different sound and a different beater struck her ass from a different direction. “That’s two,” said a different voice.

With no sound preceding it, a third beater slammed into her ass cheeks. This one was not wire, but something solid yet flexible. It sounded like a clap of thunder in the hallway and felt like a wide belt, but a hundred times worse.

“That’s three,” said the voice of the leader and Shumara knew that this must have been her “big leather one.”

The women gathered around Shumara and took turns beating her with the carpet beaters. The count slowly rose toward fifty. After forty-nine, the leader said, “turn her over,” and several sets of hands turned Shumara so that she was face up on the floor. No sooner had she been turned than the leader’s big leather carpet beater came crashing down directly on Shumara’s slit. Her screams almost drowned out the leader’s voice as she said to her crew, “That’s fifty. Time to go home ladies. Princess will mop the water up off the hallway for us. Won’t you Former Princess Shumara Seven?”

Shumara merely nodded her head. One of the women dropped a mop across her and said, “Put this back in the closet at the end of the hallway when you are finished, and make sure that it is properly rinsed and wrung out.”

Shumara lay on the soapy floor for some time. By the time she had finally risen to her feet, the hallway was empty except for a solitary bucket and the mop that lay across her. She picked up the mop, walked over to the bucket, and for the first time ever in her life, she began to mop a floor. She began at the far end and worked her way down to the closet. When she reached the closet she found a low sink just inside into which she dumped the water from the bucket. She rinsed the mop and used the wringer in the bucket to wring it dry. She set the bucket with the others in the closet and hung the mop on the empty hook. Then sitting on the lip of the low sink with her feet high against the doorjamb of open doorway of the closet so that she could see the entire length of the long hallway as she looked out between her legs, she rubbed herself to climax, all the while imagining herself sliding up and down the wet floor of the marble hallway.

END CHAPTER SEVEN OF EIGHT

1Kollany Thirty-Five

by The Technician

Chapter 08 - Judgement Day

By the time that the day of judgement had come, everyone could see that Shumara was broken. Or at least that is how they interpreted her behavior. She no longer resisted the collar, but went without struggle wherever it took her and did whatever it desired her body to do. On the morning of her sentencing, she was awakened early and showered and cleaned as if she was going to a great ball. Following breakfast, she walked to the town square and ascended the steps to the great platform that was used for public meetings, plays, and concerts. At the top of the steps, she softly said, “Help me,” and the collar took control.

With the collars help, Shumara stood in the middle of the platform for the rest of the morning as they set up things around her. A large tent, like would be used by a traveling circus was erected behind her. A small cage was set up to one side of her and then draped with a large cloth. An elevated area with many chairs and one throne was set up on the side opposite the cage. There was no doubt what that was for, it was for the King and the royal court. Tears once again flowed as she realized that two of the chairs on that platform were draped in black. One was where she would have normally been seated for a royal function. The other was Prince Humara Nine’s. Neither would ever sit there again.

One final item was set up on the platform. It was a strange looking speaker that looked almost like pictures of ancient gramophones. She had never seen such a device before, but she had heard of it from her grandmother. Most people thought it was but myth and legend. It was a voice chamber for The One.

The One was going to speak directly to the people at her sentencing. Such a thing had not occurred in generations. What terrible thing did The One have in mind that it would speak directly to the people? Could it be she was going to be sentenced to death or perhaps worse?

The hour finally came. The people assembled in the square or settled down at home to watch the vid-cast. All work everywhere on Kollany Thirty-Five ceased until the time of sentencing was complete. Shumara Seven tried to look around to see where they had positioned Humara Nine., but he was nowhere to be seen. The time bell at the edge of the square sounded the hour and Shumar felt herself walk forward to the front of the platform.

She began to speak, “My fellow members of Kollany Thirty-Five, in my greed for power, I attempted to kill my father, the king. I used my perfect body to seduce Prince Humara Nine and bend him to my will. I wrongfully attempted to make use of genetic manipulation. The One has heard of all this and The One will punish me for my crimes, but first The One wishes to address the people and explain what is to be done.”

Shumara stepped back slightly as a deep, loud voice filled the square. It was the voice of The One speaking to the people. “Members of Kollany Thirty-Five,” it began, “many generations ago the home planet was destroyed by a wave of intense radiation. But our ancestors had several centuries of warning that it would occur, and before the home planet was destroyed, they sent forth colony ships to settle new worlds so that our species and the lower species of our world might be preserved. Thirty four of the colony ships were launched without incident. It is hoped that the reached their destinations in safety. The last ship, the ship to colony 35, however, was too late. The destruction overtook us before any of the lower life forms or their embryo could be loaded aboard. The home planet was destroyed. All active life forms aboard the ship also perished. I was forced to leave the home planet with just the frozen human embryo from your ancestors that had been loaded into heavily protected cargo holds for travel in space. The automated systems aboard the ship birthed a few of the embryo and soon we had a crew of sorts, but we arrived at our destination without the genetic diversity to maintain a world.”

“During the voyage, a decision had to be made. For the survival of the entire zoasphere, it would be necessary to create lower life forms. Genetic manipulation drugs were developed which would change a living being into something else. Today, these are used only for healing and regeneration, but then they were used to create the diverse life forms we have today, including the different genetic classes of our society. A simple pill, along with electronic memory manipulation, created beings who were perfectly suited for their tasks and perfectly happy with those tasks. In effect a perfect world was created.”

“As the primary ship’s control computer, it fell to me to decide who was modified into what. I made all of those decisions based on a beings true nature, and we have had a perfect world since then. When imperfection has arisen, as it will, if the being did not respond to guidance he or she was given the genetic modifiers and began a new life in a more suited gene class. So that they would not suffer unduly, their memories were often reset just as occurred on the colony ship. This was normally done in secrecy to preserve the perfection of our society.”

“Nothing more was every required... until today. What is going to happen today will not be in secret. It will be witnessed by all of Colony 35. And the beings modified today will not have their memories reset. They will remember everything of their former lives even though their genes will change their bodies into totally different forms and force them to act in a totally different manner. This is the punishment for disrupting our perfect world. The being formerly known as Prince Humara Nine has already been modified. The being formerly known as Princess Shumara Seven will now begin the process of modification.”

Shumara felt herself moving toward a small table that had been placed on the platform while The One had been speaking. On the table were several capsules of medication. She did not want to lose her perfect body and her arm shuddered one last time as she was forced to reach downward and pick up the purple capsule. She placed it in her mouth and swallowed. Then her hands moved to the back of her neck and she released the collar.

Her first instinct was to run while she had the chance, but instead, as a strange tingling sensation raced through her body, she turned toward the crowd and dropped to her knees in the position of a sub-servant. Sub-servants were the servants of the servants. There was no lower class in Kollany Thirty-five than a sub-servant... well, no lower class that anyone would ever mention.

“This being shall now be known as Former Princess Shumara Seven, or just Seven. As a sub-servant, she has lost the power of will and must do whatever she is commanded to do. The control collar is no longer necessary. Seven, you will now take the red capsule.”

Seven’s mind screamed against what she was doing, but her body obeyed the command and rose, went once again over to the table and swallowed the red capsule. The tingling sensation again raced through her body and again she returned to the front center of the platform. Again she sank to her knees, but rather than remaining on her knees in the position of a sub-servant, she lowered herself until her asscheeks were firm against her ankles and then raised her arms and hands high above her head and leaned forward until her palms touched the ground in front of her. She wanted to cry, “NO! I can’t be doing this,” but her mind followed the genetic code which now controlled her body.

The voice of The One again spoke, “This being is now less than a sub-servant. She is a slave. Stand Slave Seven that all may see that you have the body of a slave!”

Shumara, now just Slave Seven stood with her arms straight out from her sides and her legs spread. As she stood, the capsule finished its work and all of the hair dropped from her body. The vid-cams slowly showed her body to all of Kollany Thirty-Five. Her bluish-gray face looked strange with no hair upon her head and no eyelashes or eyebrows.

“Resume position,” said the voice from the speaker, and she dropped once again into the position of total submission. One of the vid-cams zoomed in on her from the back, giving all those at home a close up view of her perfectly smooth ass and slit. The voice continued, “You are now but a slave, but there are those who are less than a slave. Slave Seven, I command you to take the green capsule.”

Slave Seven rose from her posture of obedience and walked slowly across the platform to the table on which rested last capsule. The part of her that was still Princess Shumara Seven didn’t want to take it. She didn’t want to be less than the mere slave that she already was, but the part of her that was already converted to slave DNA compelled her to follow all orders given to her. She had no choice. She picked up the capsule and swallowed it.

This time it was not a tingling sensation. It was fire and lightning and ecstacy and torment all at the same time. She looked down at her body and it was changing before her eyes. Her skin had changed to a dull gray as she became a sub-servant and then to a grayish blue as a slave. Now it was changing to a deep shade of green Her breasts were growing larger. Her cunt was on fire and her labia were growing forth out of her slit like huge wet leaves from some strange plant ripening and turning red as they grew. She was turning into a pleasure slave!

She thought that she could go no lower, but the fire continued as a red stripe began to appear on the outside of her legs extending from her ankles all the way up to her armpits. No, this could not be. Such beings were pure legend. No such thing had even existed except in the forbidden stories in the forbidden books.

The green skin marked her as a pleasure slave. The red stripe marked her as an entertainer. She was a pleasure slave entertainer. If the forbidden stories were true - and she had read or watched many of them - a pleasure slave entertainer was a slave to everyone, but especially to her own sexual desires. A pleasure slave entertainer would have sex anywhere, at any time, with anyone, or anything or even any species.

“Turn around Pleasure Slave Seven and see your future life.” boomed the voice.

As Seven turned, a large covering fell from the side of the tent behind her revealing a large circus painting proclaiming “The beings formerly known as Princess Shumara Seven and Prince Humara Nine in the most shocking act ever seen on Kollany Thirty-Five.”

The painting depicted her exactly as she now looked on the platform except that she was lying backwards over a brightly painted small bed-like square with her legs widely spread. Between her legs was a small purple donkey with the face of a man.

Two watchers walked onto the platform carrying the bed depicted in the painting. They set it on the stage behind her and one said softly, “I think you know what to do.”

Pleasure Slave Seven walked over to the small bed, lay back on the thin mattress, and spread her legs. The vid-cams zoomed in for a close up as she stroked herself and made herself ready. One of the watchers went over to the cage and removed the cover revealing a small purple donkey with the face of Humara Nine. When the door of the cage was opened, the donkey knew what to do and scampered to the center of the platform between Seven’s legs. He sniffed her glistening cunt and his pink donkey prick stiffened and slid our from its sheath. Seven started moaning as he began thrusting into her and was crying out and screaming in ecstasy before he finally finished.

Nine was still mounted within her when she heard The One announce, “This ends our presentation for the day, but be sure to catch the live performances of the beings formerly known as Princess Shumara Seven and Prince Humara Nine. They will be touring Kollany Thirty-Five for the rest of their lives.”

Shumara lay on the bed basking in the afterglow of her orgasm. Nine now stood beside her like the docile donkey he had always been. The voice of the collar, which Shumara now recognized as the voice of The One, spoke in her mind. “The people think that you are being punished severely, but you are not. I have seen your mind and your regret at what you had been and what you did, so I have been merciful. I have also seen that you have always been a slave to your desires and especially a slave to your sexual desires. All I have done is to change your outward body to match what you have always inwardly been.”

“You are now free to give yourself over to your inner desires. You can walk naked anywhere on the planet. You can flaunt your sex to whomever or whatever you please. You can fuck anything and everything on the planet, if you so desire, and people will applaud. Everyone else sees you as the lowest of the lowest slave, but you and I know that you are now one of the truly free ones in Kollany Thirty-Five. Live long and be happy, Fuck Slave Shumara Seven.”

THE END.

Kollany Thirty-Five

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