2084
A futuristic BDSM novel – 64,500 words
By Jack Norman ©
Free Extract
“The best drone stock you can buy in the Dome. Roll up now. Come and get your
drone slaves. Open sale tomorrow. All of them have to go.”
The barker was striding too and fro on a dais, haranguing a small crowd in the
square to the left of the travelator. Leila could hear him from where she was standing on
the moving pavement on their way to the Service Tower Restaurant, traversing the Dome
township through closely-packed hexagonal sky-scraper buildings.
“Oh, a slave sale,” Jonquil said, digging into her shoulder bag for an apple. “I
haven’t seen one of those for a while. Ironic, considering our plan, don’t you think?”
“No, I fail to see the irony.”
Leila glanced at Jonquil with a mixture of awe and amazement. It was if they were
just going on a normal afternoon jaunt. Jonquil seemed so calm and, well, so ordinary.
Today of all days! Leila then looked to Mel-tae, who was on his way to die. His slanted
almond-shaped eyes and the flat features of his honey-warm face were set in a firm,
jutting mask of determination. That was understandable, given the copious doses of kinda
coke Mel had snorted that day. As they approached closer to the square, Leila could see a
number of women and a couple of men standing in a line on the portable stage that had been
erected next to the moving pavement. She could make out now that the creatures were all
young and semi-clad in gauze-like transparent garments. They might as well have been
naked.
“Where do they get the drones from?” Leila asked.
“From the Outside, I suppose,” Jonquil said, biting into the apple. As always, she
spoke airily, as if she knew what she was talking about. “Or maybe prisoners of war...
They probably take miscreants from other Domes too. Anyway, do you want to take a look?”
Without waiting for a reply, Jonquil stepped from the moving pavement. Leila
gasped and grabbed Mel-tae by the wrist, dragging him along as she hastily followed
Jonquil. Leila was angry. It was ridiculous. They had major work to do, a mission to
accomplish, without stopping for distractions such as a slave sale. Moreover, the object
concealed in Leila’s vagina shifted slightly with her sudden movement and the tip pushed
uncomfortably against her cervix. “Shouldn’t we be getting Mel-tae in place?” she
whispered angrily, wriggling her hips slightly.
“There’s lots of time yet,” Jonquil said, chewing the apple. “If we’re going to
act as slaves for an hour or so, a few minutes watching the real thing won’t come amiss.”
Leila sighed. It was no use arguing with Jonquil in this mood. Leila and
Jonquil flanked Mel-tae, each with an arm hooked in his, standing at a distance from the
stage, some way behind the crowd gathered there. Today, what with the drugs and the
occasion, the glint in Mel-tae’s eyes was even more startling than ever.
It was a good spot to parade the slavers’ wares, right next to one of the main
travelators. Raucous shouting and laughter was coming from the onlookers as they bantered
with the comedic salesman who strode the makeshift stage. Jonquil pulled Mel-tae and
Leila forward until they were amongst the crowd. Leila could see that the slaves were all
barefoot, and the surface of the platform was strewn with sawdust. Why did they do that?
A numbered placard was draped around the neck of each slave. The poor creatures seemed to
be resigned to their fate, waiting acquiescently, without apparent dismay, even though
their hands were cuffed behind their backs.
“They are all so beautiful,” Leila breathed, gazing first at each of the women with
heir pert breasts tenting against gauze drapes, and then at the two men in brief loin
cloths. Each of the slaves was perfectly honed, and the tantalisingly diaphanous drapes
merely accentuated their prime flesh. Leila added: “It's such a shame.”
“They’ve been cosmetically enhanced, of course,” Jonquil said knowingly. “The
surgeons can make anybody look beautiful, even me. Or you, for that matter.”
Leila smiled. Jonquil was beautiful, without doubt, in a pixie-like way. For her
own part, Leila hadn't ever had any complaints about her dark, luscious looks. “How do you
know these things?” she asked.
Jonquil shrugged and bit into her apple again. “It’s common knowledge. They
brainwash and condition them. A free-thinking person goes in one end of the machine and
comes out at the other as a mindless drone. It’s pretty shitty.”
Leila bit her lip. Her heart was unaccountably pounding against her ribs. Perhaps
it was because of the nervous excitement that had gripped her all day, knowing what
Mel-tae was about to do. Also, there was the thick, unyielding shaft embedded in her
cunt, feeling very heavy and causing a dull ache... And the thought of again acting as his
pliant slave in the Aphrodite Club set Leila aquiver with apprehension. There was a
growing unease in her mind, something that told her that she should stop Mel-tae before it
was too late. Yet here they were, wasting precious time watching a slave sale. On the
other hand, Leila had been unable to tear her eyes from the docile drone creatures and,
for some reason the awesome horror of the whole business seemed to excite her. Slavery
was nothing new. Slaves were the work-horses of the Dome, undertaking most menial tasks
and some higher level stuff too. As might be expected, they also populated the thriving
sex trade, for the most part. The drones were drudges, infinitely beneath the privileged
Dome worker citizens. Leila had always accepted all of that, but she hadn't really ever
stopped to wonder how they actually came to be there, and it certainly wasn't advertised
by the puritanical Dome Authority.
The barker turned and gestured to one of the men, bringing him forward to stand at
the front of the stage. The man was a fair-haired specimen, his body impressively
sculpted with a taut ridged belly and muscular thighs.
“Here’s one for the ladies,” the salesman said to the crowd in general. “Or maybe
for the men, if they get a yearning for something different.” There was a ripple of
laughter. “A gorgeous guy, ladies, 26 years old, slender build, and very well muscled with
broad shoulders and well developed pecs and biceps. Better still…” The salesman paused as
he whipped away the drone’s gauze loincloth. “…an absolutely huge cock.”
Leila thought of the hard alien object currently embedded in her own pussy. She
found herself licking her lips as she eyed the very long, thick, flaccid penis, and his
impressive low hanging testicles. Leila glanced at Jonquil, who seemed totally unmoved
and utterly calm as she chomped on her green apple.
“Well, whaddya say, ladies? Wouldn't that be a treat for you? Or for the men?
Good for going up the arse? Or maybe, even the ladies— No, no, no... I won't say any
more on that!”
There was more laughter at the salesman's crude, practised banter. Then someone
called, “Who's to say it's in working order?”
The auctioneer laughed. “I’m not the best one to show you that. Is there a lady
who can demonstrate?”
A young woman immediately climbed onto the dais. She wore a studded black leather
outfit that left her legs, her midriff, and her right breast bare, and she wore
high-spike-heeled boots. Her black gloved hands carried a stiff white plastic cane. The
onlookers laughed and some jeered good-naturedly. Nobody was in any doubt that the young
woman was an accomplice of the salesman, of course; ordinary citizens just didn't wander
round the Dome dressed like that, even during Dionysus. The woman made a great show of
using the tip of the cane to lift the drone's limp cock.
Leila glanced at Mel-tae. He was still staring obdurately ahead, as if oblivious
to what was happening around him. “Are you alright, Mel?” Leila asked, reaching to
squeeze his hand.
“Fine,” Mel replied.
The woman in black leather was still manipulating the slave’s cock but it remained
flaccid. “It don't look too hopeful, do it,” someone called.
“Give the lady a chance, sir. She’ll have it standing to attention in no time,
unless you want a go yourself.” The sales man winked exaggeratedly and the crowd laughed.
“You’re going to pass on that, eh? I thought so.”
The dominatrix pouted her red, luscious lips as she flexed her cane and went to
stand behind the naked slave. Suddenly, quite viciously, she swung the cane and brought
it down with a sharp thwap across his firm arse. Then she hit him again, and again, and
again. He winced and gave the occasional grunt but remained in position as she repeatedly
sliced the cane across his buttocks.
“My God, that’s awful!” Leila breathed. The object shifted again in her pussy.
She added: “Simply awful.”
“You can bet he’s conditioned as a masochist, amongst other things,” Jonquil said,
munching the apple. “His cock has quite obviously been enlarged, and look, it’s already
showing signs of life under the cane.”
It was true. The drone's organ was growing massively erect. The leather-clad
dominatrix strode round and reached to grasp the shaft with her black gloved hand, and her
fingers only just encircled its girth. There were some female gasps and a ripple of
applause.
“Draw him off,” someone demanded. “Let's see what he's got in him.”
The dominatrix smiled and pouted, as if shocked. While still grasping the slave’s
cock, she dropped the cane and reached with her other gloved hand to cup his balls,
rolling the sac in her fingers. The drone closed his eyes (Leila could not quite
determine whether it was in shame or pleasure). Then the woman began to massage the loose
silky skin of his cock, easing it back and forth on the hard shaft, gradually increasing
the pace until her hand became a blur. Within less than a minute, viscous white cum
spurted onto the sawdust. The drone remained in position, although his breathing had
become ragged and his face was flushed. The onlookers cheered and clapped.
“There you are, ladies, more than enough to make a nutritious breakfast or supper.
Lot number 256. The sale is to be held tomorrow in the theatre. Bid online or in
person.”
“That poor man!” Leila said, watching the drone’s humiliation. Even as she spoke,
she was conscious of a warm glow in her belly, and it wasn’t only engendered by the large
dildo.
“It’s no better for the women - worse, if anything,” Jonquil said in a
matter-of-fact voice as the dominatrix quit the stage.
“I’d die first.”
Jonquil cast a sideways grin at Leila. She said: “Nobody can resist the drone
conditioning. You’d cum as helplessly as the rest.”
The salesman was now bringing one of the young women forward, ripping the gauze
from her delectable body. She shyly ran a hand through her main of chestnut hair as the
salesman reached to pinch her long nipples which were already erect on the large brown
aureolas of her breasts.
“Let’s go,” Jonquil said, suddenly, turning to leave, tossing the apple core aside.
“We have work to do. It’s time to get slave-like ourselves.”
Leila nodded. Walking gingerly, she pulled Mel-tae back towards the travelator.
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