3 comments/ 57452 views/ 1 favorites Escape to Nowhere By: DominicaPotestas Dominica Potestas writes pure fantasy. Sentiments and actions expressed in this story in no way reflect what the author would condone in the real world. Thanks to Frank for the inspiration for this story and his enthusiasm for my writing. Thanks also to Falcon for being a rock of support and help. * Leena was an angry young girl. She was also an angry young slave. She had good reason to be angry. Her father, Jed Springman, ran a small business in what was once the frontier town of Strongmarsh, now firmly inside the Empire after the conquests of Albor, Tasmynor, and Lisbia. Strongmarsh though still represented the edge of Illakia's easily arable land; after Strongmarsh, the land became dusty and barren. To expand his business, her father had saw fit to take a loan from Strongmarsh Business Association, which specialised in helping small businesses. A man called Francis Wilkerson, the treasurer and main mover of the association, dealt with Jed's request. Jed readily signed with the charming and conniving businessman, and did not see the small print of the contract, and only half wondered why Wilkerson had needed the whole family to sign their names. The new business did not go well. Jed struggled with repayments. The gamble had not paid off. Still, it was a gamble worth taking and the family would have to rely on the main business to pay off the loan and start building up again. Francis Wilkerson rubbed his hands as the business shut. The Springmans were a little shocked to discover that if their late repayments of the loan amounted to a thousand lira, the small print allowed the association to take possession of Jed's 'youngest adult daughter as a sub-human slave in accordance with the Imperial Law on Slavery'. Wilkerson had lodged the contract with the local court and as soon as the magic L1000 figure was passed, he contacted the local judge and the two men went to the Springmans' home to present them with the ultimatum that legal action will be taken if 19-year-old Leena was not presented to the Association by midday the next day. Needless to say, the family was shocked and devastated. Leena remembered everyone in tears on that last night with her family. That is how she found herself in front of the association's committee in Wilkerson's home after a tearful farewell outside. The committee was made up of her father's peers, men who had frequented the shop throughout her life, kindly old men she had looked up to. Now transformed into a sub-human, she only saw lust and greed in their eyes. She couldn't believe that a simple act of changing her legal status could change people so much. To increase her anger further the committee, talking as if she were deaf, decided that Wilkerson was best able to take custody of her while they decided what to do. She was left alone with the monster that had devastated her family. The local registrar came round to log the enslavement. Stripped to her panties, she had her body measured like an animal and photographs of her in her humiliation taken for the record. Wilkerson then locked her in his cellar. **** Francis Wilkerson was rather proud of his efforts. Leena Springman had blossomed beautifully in the last few years, and now represented valuable property. She had a beautiful curvy figure with delicate porcelain skin. Her enticingly cute face was perfect. He had dyed her shoulder-length chestnut hair blonde, which he was pleased to find now made her look younger. But her crowning feature had been revealed when the registrar took her measurements. 34E-25-36. He knew some would pay well for E-cup breasts. He resorted to chaining her against the wall in the cellar where he had kept slaves previously. Every time he ventured down there he was subjected to a torrent of foul abuse. Slave 0246567 had not taken to her new condition very well and evidently thought her predicament was unfair. It probably was. Who cared about her though? His mood improved when a high-ranking bureaucrat, Gerry Wagner, passed through the town. Wagner was well on his way to earning a lordship and a fortune, and he was passing through Strongmarsh on his way to becoming governor of Tasmynor territory. The Business Association held him a dinner where he mentioned that he was buying up a harem for personal use, having given the Emperor a huge gift of fifty slaves in an effort to fast track his peerage. He also mentioned to Francis that a blonde girl with big tits would be a nice complement to his current collection. Francis suggested they meet. Leena was brought before Mr Wagner naked, gagged tightly, chained and bound. Wagner nodded his head. She was led away. Francis made a thousand profit for the association. He didn't mention Leena's rotten temperament and Wagner didn't ask. That is how Leena found herself sat on the rough floor of a wooden wagon in a small convoy travelling across the Tasmynorian Desert into the province. She shared this wagon with five other girls. The first rule they had been given was that there was to be no talking between slaves, and they were then made to watch one unfortunate given 100 lashes to prove the point. The girls had not spoken a word to each other in two weeks. Leena had been allowed to keep on the red bikini-style panties that she had arrived in, and other slaves were in various other states of undress. '36' had been scrawled on her thigh, and she had been told that that was her new name. The other slaves also demonstrated what a varied harem Wagner had built up, from Tasmynorian black to Illakian white, thin to big and busty. One day Wagner, who had hurried on ahead, and sent word back that he wanted a small number of his white girls to be given a very mild all-over tan. To achieve this, some of the slaves would be put in a coffle at the end of the convoy, to slowly roast in the blazing sun. Leena found herself one morning being forcibly stripped of her only clothing and being collared into a coffle with about ten other naked girls on. Her hands were brought in front of her and locked into cuffs that hung from the chain in front of her neck. Her anger and resentment, which had been simmering in silence for two weeks, nearly broke, but she remembered the screams and the bloody back of that poor girl. Chewing on her lip, she allowed her breasts to be slapped playfully by the guards. The coffle was attached to the last caravan of the convoy, so when that slow vehicle lurched into life, the coffled girls stumbled forwards, arms hanging uselessly in front of their necks, and so started a long exhausting walk across the Tasmynorian Desert. Leena wasn't built for walking across the desert in the blazing sun. Her figure was curvy; perfectly fit but not used to hard labour. Her skin was delicate and white, to match her new hair, which she hated. After 10 minutes she was exhausted. The sun was beating down relentlessly on her back, and there was no escape in the desert from its all-encompassing glare. Walking across the sand in bare feet was hard work, and she didn't like the grit that was working its way in between her toes. That she couldn't steady herself with her hands only caused her more work. Her pace was totally reliant on the caravan towing the helpless slave girls, and she desperately wanted it to stop. It wouldn't. Her eyes focused on the swaggering backside of the girl in front of her; a little skinnier than her, she seemed to be coping better. Leena was now thirsty as well. Behind the coffle, there were two guards on horses, bringing up the rear of the convoy. Occasionally one of them would use their horsewhip on Leena's soft ass, as if she could go faster somehow. She knew she was being abused, but again she managed to keep her mouth shut. Only silent tears escaped from her eyes whenever she was hit. After what seemed like an age to Leena, the wagon eventually stopped. The convoy was having its mid-morning break, mostly taken to give the horses a rest. The convoy stopped near a very small oasis. Leena perked up, expecting some rest in the shade. Instead, a group of horses were taken to water under the three trees that made up the oasis; the coffle of slaves was made to stand in the sun. A flask of water was passed down the coffle, a guard thrusting it into each slave's mouth for a sip. All the slaves drank gratefully. By the time it reached Leena, it was empty. "Unlucky, Big Tits," the guard said unsympathetically. "Yes sir," was all she knew she was allowed to say. The guard slapped her defenceless breasts and moved on. She was thankful that he didn't notice her tear-stained cheeks, because that would only bring unwanted attention on herself. *** The day continued like that. The convoy covered nearly 20 miles in the scorching sun, travelling from sunrise to sunset. In all that time, Leena and the girls on the coffle had not once been allowed to sit down or rest in some shade. Leena was learning that her place was clearly lower than the horses and the pack animals. A little warm water, with a little food, had eventually reached Leena at lunchtime, but that had been her only comfort. Never before had she exerted so much energy. Her body was slick with sweat, but with only a very slight covering on tan. That meant she would be back on the coffle the next day. One by one the girls on the coffle were being released and taken to a tent, where they would be given much-desired food and water. Leena was again last. She had been dreaming of food and water all day, and the smells from the tent were driving her mad. Finally, a solitary guard, an old and plump man, came over to release her. "Cheer up Big Tits," he said, "it's your turn to entertain the staff tonight." Her stomach churned. He unlocked her hands. "Put your hands on your head if you know what's good for yer," he barked, brandishing a cattle prod. She did as bid, and looked up as the old man fondled her tits. He chuckled. He unlocked the yoke with the rusty key. "Stay still bitch," he commanded. She stood stock still. He went behind her to open up the yoke. As he did so, he tripped on some loose chain from the coffle. Leena watched him fall and hit his head off the wheel of the caravan that was parked next to the coffle. His unconscious body fell into the sand, blood dribbling down his crown. Leena turned her head to look at the camp. No one was outside, no one was looking her way. Slowly, her heart beating incredibly quickly, she brought her hands down from her head and undid her own yoke. She carefully placed it on the ground, not making a noise. She tiptoed over to the guard. He was still breathing, but he didn't look good. She stood up to call for help, but then she stopped herself. She knew how cruel these bastards were; she would be mercilessly punished for releasing herself, but if she reattached herself to the coffle, she would be equally punished for standing by while their friend was unconscious on the floor. She didn't have time to think, and she did something so reckless and foolhardy, later she would hardly believe she had done it. She turned away from the encampment, and ran away. Escape to Nowhere Ch. 02 Leena ran for all of about five minutes and then suddenly stopped. The enormity of what had happened had just hit her. Escape from slavery was one of the most heinous crimes in Illakia, along with murder and treason, and was punishable only by crucifixion, perhaps the cruellest form of execution available. Leena's heart rate suddenly leapt up. She thought momentarily about turning to go back to the camp, but she knew that even a failed attempt at freedom would be enough to condemn her. Anyway, she did not have a clue where she was. She had stopped in a small dip in the desert, and there were no natural features to guide her anywhere. The sand drifts had quickly obliterated her footprints. She would have no choice but to keep on running. But where to? She had thought she might attempt to run back to Strongmarsh, which was surely the closest settlement. But how could she navigate? She had no idea which direction to run in, and she had been too mollycoddled in her youth to have any practical knowledge on how to navigate out in the open anyway. Oh how had it come to this? How did she receive the bad luck to be enslaved? Why had she made a catastrophic mistake in running away? She knew she had to keep moving though, so moved off at a pace. She knew that she, like all other slaves in the Empire, was fitted with a microchip under the skin of the back of her neck. When her escape was reported to a police post, her slave number would only need to be fed in to a computer and her exact location could be pinpointed. This was really why no slave ever escaped; it was utterly pointless. Unless you were a rash and unwise young girl like Leena... She didn't know what she was doing, but she set off across the unending desert. *** Gerry Wagner received two pieces of news when a fast messenger came to him in Tasmynor's primary town, Agona. Firstly, the Emperor had finally made him a lord, sent his roll of ennoblement and thanked him for his generous contribution towards the imperial slave harem. Secondly, one of the slave bitches on the convoy had escaped! Leaving one of his men unconscious! Lord Wagner was furious. The escape of a slave from his convoy was deeply embarrassing. The staff who had let this happen would be dismissed. He called for the head of the Imperial Police in Tasmynor, the ranking officer of the Imperial Guard in Tasmynor and his own chief of staff to the Governor's Palace. *** Leena had run all night, until she had collapsed exhausted. She was woken by the heat of the midday sun. Her throat was dry, but there was no sign of water. There was little sign of anything, just unyielding sand. She was well off the beaten track now. She stood up. The heat was unbelievable! She didn't know it, but today was the hottest day of the year in the already hot desert, and it was now 41 degrees. Even the sand was hot to touch. Nevertheless she knew delay could be fatal, and she set about moving, hoping that she may discover an oasis in her travels, to provide her vulnerable body some much needed shade and her dry harsh throat with some desperately wanted water. *** Lord Wagner met with the police chief, the SSAD chief and the chief of staff for the provincial government in the cool map room of the Governor's Palace. They all congratulated Wagner on his elevation, and then he brought them to business. He wanted this escapee bitch caught, he said. The police had been able to track the slave in the desert, and she was wandering in the middle of nowhere, near to nothing in particular. The chiefs agreed that the slave's punishment should be left entirely up to the governor, with the governor being chief justice for the territory anyway, but warned him that it would be highly unusual if he did not crucify her. Wagner however was having different ideas. They also discussed how to capture the girl, seeing that there were no portable slave-tracking machines available. Wagner, feeling mischievous, suggested a competition. There would be three teams – representing the Imperial Police, Imperial Guard and Palace staff – armed with the latest coordinates and a local navigator. They would be set at intervals.. The first team to capture the slave would be allowed to amuse themselves with her body on the way back. If she was not captured within a week, all teams must return, with the slave being presumed dead in the desert. They drew lots. The IG team would be going first. *** Leena wasn't even sure why she was still moving anymore, everywhere appeared the same. Her throat was so dry; she would have struggled to speak. She again collapsed to the ground, but the sand was so hot she stood up again immediately. The sun was blistering hot, and she felt her skin begin to burn. She stood still and cried. *** The IG team was bagged and horsed up and raring to go. All three teams, handpicked by their respective bosses, were in the courtyard, being addressed by Lord Wagner. Since the meeting, Lord Wagner had refined the rules of the competition. Each team consisted on four men and four horses, including one native navigator. Each team was equipped with a compass, a map and the last known coordinates of the slave's position. To ensure the slave was not killed prematurely, Wagner had decreed that the only weapon allowed was a dart gun, and a set of shackles and chains was provided. They were to keep the competition secret, as Wagner did not like his new subjects to know too soon of the lapse of security in the new governor's harem. Wagner was also pleased to announce that the prize for the winners was of course full access to the captured slut, and then the winning team would be allowed to pick a slave each from Lord Wagner's harem to take home. So, with a little flourish, the IG team were released from the courtyard. The competition had started. Two hours later the police team would be set off with even later coordinates for Leena's whereabouts. *** Leena had allowed herself a little time to weep at her situation. She was faced with certain excruciating debasing death on the one hand, or starving to death in the blistering heat on the other. This was almost too much for her young and sheltered mind to take in. Nevertheless, she found resolve; she knew she was fighting for her life. She continued to wander across the desert, hoping beyond hope that she would stumble across civilisation before either dehydration and hunger overtook her or an even worse fate caught up with her. She had stumbled across the loose sand, toiling under omnipresent sun all afternoon. Her body was slick with sweat and her bright blonde hair was starting to stick to her neck. She could feel her tender skin being crisply baked to a bronzed tan. However, she had not had any water since she had been with the convoy. That was nearly a day ago now, and she was beginning to feel very weak. Her stumbling pace across the desert had been slowing all day. Eventually, coinciding with the heat of sun starting to dip as the sun started to dip below the horizon, she again collapsed from exhaustion. This time though it was the real thing. Her mouth was dry and she was developing a headache. As her sweat-slicked body lay in the sand, she drifted into unconsciousness. Escape to Nowhere Ch. 03 Chapter III There were now three teams charging across the desert. The police and palace staff teams knew that the IG team had had a head start, but on the later teams, especially the palace staff who went last, had more up-to-date information on the escapee's whereabouts. In three different locations, four horses were whipped into action as all 12 men rode into the night. *** Leena was roused, her body recovering from her faint. She didn't know how long she had been out, but it was now dark. The weather had changed too, it was now cold and windy. She shivered in the cold for the first time in days, and again cursed her lack of clothing for very different reasons now. She felt very weak, but she knew she had no choice but to keep moving, especially now the sun had gone. Her sand-coated body rose, and climbed the next sand dune. She stumbled along for the next couple of hours. She didn't know what time it was but she was getting very tired. She was weak from lack of water still and the night air was taking its toll on her exposed body, causing her to shiver, her skin to go goosepimply and her lips to turn slightly blue. Still she carried on. Eventually, as she crested a sand dune, she looked down and saw an oasis. An oasis! There was a small circle of trees and she knew there was bound to be a spring in there. Manna from heaven! The oasis was about 100 yards away. With renewed resolve, she set off one more time. But she was weak. Very weak. She had come close to collapsing again on the previous dune. She struggled on though; water and covering and comfort were so close! A few more steps... She could barely control her legs now. She looked up and saw that the trees of the oasis were blurred. Shivering uncontrollably, she collapsed face down in the sand. *** All three teams cantered furiously over the night. The local guides were extremely useful, the black men navigating their Illakian masters to where a fugitive could take refuge. They had not found her yet. At dawn rise, the IG team were heading towards where their map said there should be an oasis. Perhaps the escapee could be sheltering there. Just before they rode over the last dune, one man was entrusted with the dart gun and it was primed and prepared, ready to shoot should the slut be seen. And they rode over. Immediately the leader of the team reined his horse in. On the floor, no more than 50 yards away from the oasis, was the prone figure of a young girl, with fierce blonde and creamy white skin. The team gathered round the unmoving body of the girl and dismounted. The leader bent down and flipped her over. The men admired her breasts and the rest of her body, coated in sand. "Is she dead?" asked one. The leader checked Leena's pulse. "No, but she's very weak. Tie her up. We'll camp in that oasis tonight before heading back." Leena's unmoving ankles were roped, and attached to the saddle of one of the horses. The horses trotted the last fifty yards to the oasis, Leena's helpless body dragging along in the sand behind them. At the edge of the oasis, the men dismounted again. The leader of the group ordered that their prize be restrained before she was woken. The evil men laughed as they decided to stake Leena out spread-eagled in the sand, just beyond the oasis. They took her unconscious body and tied her wrists and ankles to stakes set into the desert at the furthest apart spacing possible. When this was done, the leader knelt down to the slave girl, and took out his water canteen. He put it to her lips, and let the liquid splash down her throat. He then splashed some on her face and slapped her. Leena groggily came to. Her last memory was of crossing the desert at night, and as she struggled to open her eyes, she could see sunlight. As her vision cleared, the sun was blocked by six male faces peering down at her. Her mind worked overtime trying to work out what had happened. Then it hit. Shit! She had been caught! She had runaway and now she was caught and it meant only one fate for her. These faces looking down at her were her death sentence. "Nooo!" she cried, finding the energy from somewhere. She thrashed about, mad ideas about getting up and escaping going through her frenzied mind, her fight or flight reaction kicking in to this life-threatening situation. She quickly discovered she was tethered to the ground, spread-eagled and helpless. The men smiled at this reaction. The leader knelt down to her head. "Welcome to hell, bitch," he said in her ear. "No, please," she wept, pleading. "I'll do anything you want, please, please, don't take me back. Kill me here, leave me to die, I don't mind, I'll do anything to please you, just please, please don't take me back. I'll do anything! I don't want to die on the cross!" The leader listened to this pleading desperate ramble with a smile on his face. "You should have thought of that before you fled, you stupid bitch," he answered her. "Only one thing to do with a runaway cunt," chimed in another man with a smile on his face. The leader stood up. "Feed her and water her so that she is strong enough for the journey back. We will spend the rest of the day resting and collecting our prize," he said, leering at the prone blonde at his feet. "We ride tomorrow!"