The Slave, the Snake, and the Sinner

As bad as it was, her situation could be worse.

The Snake was her sole companion, and he wasn't violent, per se. Most of the time he treated her like a simple sex-pet, but there was something wrong with him, mentally, and he seemed to be unaware of Cassia as a sentient being. His behavior became brutal as he approached orgasm, when he lost himself completely, but she didn't think the harm he caused her then was intentional. He just didn't notice her weeping or the wounds he left on her body. He was so strong and so much bigger than Cassia that he didn't notice her fighting him, either.

It could be worse, she thought—all the other cells she'd seen had more than one resident. Cassia could have been given a truly sadistic cellmate, or several, or the Snake could be un-snakelike.

When the muscle-bound first mate delivered her to the Sultana's submarine hell, she'd sprawled helplessly on the floor, struggling in her humiliating bonds. She'd still been trying to roll, hoping she might right herself, when her cellmate edged nervously into the light, responding to Ghanbar's laughing summons. "Snake, I've got a gift for you."

Cassia's view was partially obscured by the hair hanging across her face, and there wasn't a lot of light down there in the hold, but she saw enough for terror to steal any bit of strength she had left.

It was difficult to tell his exact height—the man who shambled out of the shadows in the belly of the aging ship was hunched and kind of twisted in on himself—but he was very tall. He was also very dirty, and his hair was longer than her own, snarled into an oily semblance of dreadlocks. At first she thought he was suffering from a birth defect, but later she'd realized the Snake's expression was as twisted as his mind and the rest of his body: habitual contractions of muscle had caused the ugly malformation of ridges and bumps that turned his face into such a frightful thing.

His communication skills were severely limited, but fear of Ghanbar and the guards motivated his sluggish mind. After a minute, he replied, "Gif'—gif' for me?"

To Cassia's surprise, the Snake spoke with a midwestern-American accent. Everyone else on the boat seemed to be from somewhere other than the States, but their shared nationality made no impression on her cell-mate.

"Yup. A gift for you."

When the toes of his ragged Vans were pressed against the side of Cassia's ribcage, the Snake stopped shuffling forward. He stared down at her, his lips writhing like a worm on the pasty skin showing between sparse tufts of wiry facial hair.

"Girl?"

His voice conveyed his excitement, as did the growing bulge in his baggy black shorts, and the guards all laughed.

"Yep," Ghanbar confirmed, "and, Snake, you know what else?"

The Snake was swaying slightly, back and forward, his eyes never leaving Cassia's bare breasts. With her wrists strapped to the back of her neck and her ankles chained to the back of the strap around her waist, there was no way for Cassia to hide herself. She whimpered faintly, but she didn't move.

Snake didn't answer, but Ghanbar finished his announcement. "She's freaky!"

The swaying stopped for a second while the statement sunk in, and started up again as a twitchy, bouncing motion. "Freaky?" Snake's voice was loud and high. "Freaky girl?"

"Freaky girl," Ghanbar confirmed, "and she's all yours."

Snuffling rapidly, like a hyperventilating rodent, Snake dropped to the floor. He used Cassia's cuffed ankles to haul her body around until her bottom was pressed against his knees, then he hunched forward, looming over her smaller form.

Her gag prevented intelligible speech, but didn't prevent Cassia from making any noise. None of her pleading sounds mattered. Snake never even glanced at her face. From the strap at her neck to the one at her waist, he petted her upper body, touching every inch of skin while Cassia wept and struggled. He shuffled backward on his knees and bent closer, examining her bindings while he stroked her thighs. The rubbery column Ghanbar had inserted into her pussy was pliable, but sturdy, and the thick oblong base was strapped firmly to her body, covering half her perineum and half of her lower lips. Securely attached to the waist belt, it completely blocked access to Cassia's vagina. The two front straps framed the upper swell of her labia and the back straps pressed against the inner curves of her buttocks, leaving her anus uncomfortably exposed.

Snake studied every inch of the apparatus, before finally wrenching his eyes away from Cassia's body.

"Freaky girl?" he asked Ghanbar again.

Not smiling, his voice hard, Ghanbar ordered, "Don't touch . . . ."

For once, Ghan's English failed him, and he turned halfway to speak to the man behind him. "Poyas . . . dremini . . .?" Before the guard had a chance to answer, Ghan came up with the word he wanted. "Ah," he pointed. "Don't touch the straps, Snake."

Snake glanced down and back up, his head tilting to one side.

"The straps stay on, Snake, don't mess with them, but Freaky Girl is yours to fuck."

Exceptionally long fingers outlined the straps encasing her body as Snake's eyes settled once again on Cassia's tits. The creature keened in pleasure as a slow, diagonal smile cracked his twisted features. "Freeeeaaaky gurrrrllll!"

It was almost all he said, Cassia realized later. That, a few curses, and his own name, all cobbled together in explicit narrations of every single rape.

That first time he'd taken her while Ghanbar and the guards looked on, laughing and commenting on her plight. When he pushed his gym shorts down to free his cock, Cassia saw immediately why Sinner called him "the Snake": his penis was as gangly as his body. Cassia never tried to guess the length—she didn't want to stare at it—but Snake's "snake" probably wasn't even as thick as the plug in her vagina. It was about as big around as her middle finger, and so disproportionately long that it couldn't support it's own weight: when fully erect, it arced and pointed at the ocean floor. It was long and skinny, and yes, very, very snakelike.

Obeying Ghanbar's instructions, Snake never fooled with the straps. After hauling her pelvis awkwardly into his lap, he went right to work feeding the stiff snake into Cassia's ass, snuffling and murmuring happily all the while. The Snake's penis wasn't thick, but that fucking plug was in there, too, and Cassia didn't do anal. No one had ever put ANYTHING in her ass, and the further in it went, the more it hurt. Cassia's pleading vocalizations turned to shrieks as her bowels cramped, but Snake kept forcing more and more of the thin rod into her body. Finally his balls touched her tailbone and he stopped moving. Snake stayed there for a couple of minutes, surprising everyone, while Cassia quit hollering and writhing and tried to relax.

When he pulled out, she screamed again, but he didn't back off very far, and Ghanbar had done a thorough job of greasing her up—he'd done it in the Sinner's presence and didn't dare do otherwise, Cassia imagined. Snake didn't last, and she soon learned that most of the other stuff he did felt much worse—or much better—than the long skinny cock sliding in and out of her ass. That first time, though, he went from zero to animal in less than five minutes, slamming into her ass while those giant hands grabbed at whatever they could reach. He used her breasts like doorknobs to move her entire body. For a few minutes, Cassia thought he might tear them right off. She screamed and screamed and screamed as he hammered away, but he came quickly, toppling sideways out from under her pelvis, and he was asleep before the guards turned to leave.

"Enjoy yourself, princeza," Ghanbar laughed as the lights receded.

—:—:—:—:—:—

Neither the guards nor Ghan were there when the Snake awoke. Cassia froze when she heard him snuffling back to life, fearing an imminent repeat, but her cellmate surprised her. He snuffled over her entire body, stroking all the flesh he could find, erogenous or otherwise. He petted the skin around her nostrils and between her fingers, and played with each breast for ages and ages before touching a nipple, tweaking and tugging them gently. Cassia didn't want it, but she couldn't stop her body from responding with mounting pleasure to these attentions, while Snake snuffled and sniffed and muttered his illiterate gratitude for the gift he'd been given.

"Fuck girlie. Fuck fingers. Fuck freaky girlie. Fuck girlie. Snake fuck girlie. Fuck pussy."

He was slow the second time, and every time after, stuffing that skinny prick into the depths of her body while he petted everything he could reach. His fingers tickled and rimmed around his penetration, flicked and petted and stroked the folds of her splayed, stuffed, wet pussy while Cassia came and came and came, and Snake muttered.

Of course he topped off all those lovely, demoralizing orgasms with five or ten minutes of violent, pile-driving sodomy, while his mutantly long, strong fingers tore at pieces of her body, leaving her battered, weeping, bruised, and sore. "Fuck tight. Fuck asshole. Snake fuck. Fuck tight. Tight. Ugh. Fuuuck!" he wailed, feeding his lanky cock into her previously virginal asshole. "Fuuuck freeeaky fuck-girl!"

He fucked her so hard that they both had bruises where their bodies met—Cassia's on her buttocks and Snake's on his groin. The first few times, before Ghan removed her bindings, Snake's testicles were even swollen from smashing against her tailbone. Cassia didn't want to stare, but the ballooning crimson sack was difficult to overlook. She didn't think it was normal for a man to be capable of disregarding that. Neither did the guards, apparently, who talked a great deal about it, confirming her suspicion.

—:—:—:—:—:—

Four days later, Cassia was still wearing her ersatz chastity device, an uncomfortable, ugly thing which looked like the thinner cousin of a bicycle's hand-grip. Parts of it she hardly noticed anymore, but the Kevlar straps chafed, and the plug, though skinny, made its presence known whenever the Snake raped her. Which, so far, had been three or four times a day. But as bad as things were, she told herself hourly, her current circumstances could be worse.

Contrary to what the captain had implied, the Snake never forced Cassia to fellate him. Nor did he use his mouth on her. He did a lot of other things, though, involving lots of other body parts, hardly differentiating between them. His only preference seemed to be for nooks and crannies, rather than spans of feature-free flesh, and he spent hours arousing himself in that manner. He'd rub his skinny penis against her shins, her fingers, her feet, her ears, anything he could reach.

The first time he went at one of her hands, Cassia considered helping things along, but decided she didn't want Snake to know that she was capable of participating. So she concentrated on pretending to sleep, leaving all her muscles limp while he played with her fingers, plucking and molding and pressing them together. He never did realize her fingers and thumb could form a circle, so his spurts of cum sprayed across her last two knuckles. Other than her ass, Snake's favorite body part was Cassia's feet. His snake-like organ fit snugly between her first two toes, so he'd kneel at her feet, wrangle her onto her belly, and hold her ankle to masturbate himself, chanting, "Fuck freaky, fuck freaky, fuck girl" the whole time. Once, she was even able to divert her regularly scheduled sodomy simply by stretching her toes when he headed purposefully in her direction.

It could be worse, she reminded herself constantly.

After her asshole step-brother was dragged screaming toward the front of the boat . . . ship . . . whatever . . . she never laid eyes on another prisoner, besides Snake. She wanted to call a "hello" into the darkness, to see if anyone answered, but she was afraid of the consequences. She only thought of it when Snake was sleeping, for one, and she obviously wouldn't risk waking him. Then there were the guards, who might hear her, and who knew what they would do? So far their ability to assault her was limited by the cage she was in, although occasionally one of them would dangle a bottle of water just out of reach beyond the bars, speaking softly as he tried to lure her closer. Cassia ignored them all: Ghan was the only one she'd seen carrying keys, and Ghan himself delivered her food, taking the opportunity to taunt her with predictions about her future.

"Who knows, tiger? That young, tight pizda, you could end up in some shah's harem . . . maybe even married. It'd be better if you were blonde, of course, but if someone cleans you up a little, shaves that scruffy little bush, there's still a chance."

She ignored him, too, but she ate faster when he was talking, because it usually caught the Snake's attention. Even if he slept through their food delivery and faint echoes of tin dishes scraping wood in other cells, Ghan's laughter eventually roused him. He'd lumber over, often ignoring his bowl in favor of playing with his new toy. Cassia twice tried scrambling to another corner, but one lunge later, she was easily caught, and Snake always obeyed Ghan's summons. So she ended up back where she'd started, face-down on the grimy floor, listening to the men narrate her rape.

"You like that cunt, Snake? Da, pet that tight little cunt, Snake, just like that . . . ."

She absolutely loathed the fact Snake could make her come, but it was never more humiliating than it was with Ghanbar watching. She tried turning her head away, but Ghan forced her to turn back so he could watch her facial expressions. She closed her eyes, though it was impossible to escape into her imagination—Snake's fingers were inexorable—and impossible to forget Ghan's presence—he just wouldn't shut up.

Cassia tried counting backwards, conjugating Latin verbs, and calculating the area of geometric figures, but Snake kept petting her body, parting her puffy labia, and worming his lanky fingers over the shiny, twitching folds. At first she thought the plug might prevent her arousal from appearing on the surface, but luck was not with her: all it did was squish her juices around more democratically. And Ghan, of course, could see that.

"Ahh, little tigress, you're gonna come soon, aren't you? Yeah, Snake, pet that nice little pizda."

She tried analyzing the language he used—sometimes Ghan's English reeked faintly of England, and she recalled the way the Sinner pronounced "fucking Americans" as "focking"—maybe the ship went there sometimes. Pizda meant vagina, but cuva and macé were less obvious. She dug her fingernails into her palms and held her breath—hoping she'd faint and miss the party. One time she even bit her tongue hard enough to make it bleed, but she couldn't stop herself from responding to Snake's pitiless stimulation. She fought with every cell of brain and body, but she came anyway, and then she couldn't stop coming.

Ghan kept up his running commentary through the whole of Snake's attack, waiting for the real fun at the end. "She's got a nice tight ass, doesn't she, Snake?"

"Fuck girlie. Fuck pussy. Fuck freaky. Fuuucky, fucky, fuck-girl!" Snake muttered as he manipulated her body. Most often, he liked her ass-up and head-down, folded nearly in half, her bottom hovering near his belly. In that position he could watch closely, keeping one hand on her lower spine to pull her backwards, while his other hand guided his greasy cock into her perpetually sore bottom.

The position left Cassia nearly standing on her head, which at the very least, meant Ghan couldn't force her to look at him while he goaded her rapist onward. "I bet that ass feels great."

Cassia cried out as Snake pushed half his length inside her with eager one hip-lift.

"I hope you like that prick in your ass, macé. You can look forward to a lot more after we hit land."

She gritted her teeth and tried not to make another sound, but Snake liked to take his time, reaching down to play with her nipples or finger the wet wrinkles around the juicy bump which made his pet's hot tunnel grip his cock in so many delightful ways. Cassia wound up wailing, anyway.

"Good job, cuva, you're gonna make a great whore."

"Fuck that ass, Snake! Fuck her harder!"

Eventually, Snake would lose himself in sensation, using her body like a disposable object, thrusting ever more violently and tearing at her with his giant hand-claws. Cassia's orgasmic wails turned to screams of pain, no matter how she tried to prevent herself from screaming.

"Fuck tight!" Snake screamed. "Fuck Snake! Fuck ass! Tight ass fuuuck!" he screamed, shooting his load deep in Cassia's belly.

She was usually close enough to the gate for Ghan to spurt his seed on her shoulder when he, too, came.

"Hell, princeza," he grunted, zipping his fly, "I might even pay to fuck you myself."

Thankfully, he never lingered.

—:—:—:—:—:—

Upstairs, the Sinner watched the grainy footage relayed by cameras hidden between the pipes and joists above his prisoners. No one knew about the cameras, which he used to keep track of the crew. He expected a certain amount of thievery, but with the cast of characters running The Sultana, mutiny wasn't a concept to be taken lightly. He didn't want the crew fucking with the captives in the hold, either. The ship was wall-papered with tiny, high-tech cameras and mikes, all of which were hard-wired and tamper-proof and fed directly into the captain's quarters. He didn't have infrared, and there wasn't a lot of light in the hold, but the crew always switched on the overheads or took a hand-torch with them, so Sinner had no trouble seeing what they were up to. At night, he could hear the prisoners, but not see them, which was fine—there wasn't much they could do to make trouble for him, although, occasionally there'd be a rabble-rouser in the bunch. If the Pendergast girl was down there at the start of a voyage, when everyone still had energy and hope, the Sinner would wager his wallet she'd be one of them.

In any case, the low-light lenses picked up everything the Snake did to her when he woke that day, and the Sinner was more than surprised to see it.

The girl burst into tears after her first orgasm and wept sporadically throughout, while Snake finished up with a bang, leaving her shaking in reaction.

He thought about taking her out of there, but she wasn't in any real danger of being harmed. There was no place else to put her, anyway, the Sinner thought, snapping his laptop shut and stretching as he rose, wondering if he should eat before bed or just wait until the morning.

—:—:—:—:—:—

NOTE: The remainder of the story should be up by the end of the month—it only needs a few small rewrites and a final edit. I'd really appreciate it if you could take a second to vote and/or comment—those are the little bits of happiness that make posting here worthwhile. Love, Stefanie.