Wasteland Captive (DeviantDesire x Lady Arachnia)

Some plans went off too well for Lydia to even believe it.

There had been a great unease in her camp the night before, when her scouts brought in word of a dozen or so heavily-armed vigilante types were making their way from New Prospect, a nearby settlement that Lydia's Red Fangs had terrorized the outskirts of, to seek out the bandit camp. It was a good thing the raiders had heard of them first, in truth, because numbers like those almost equalled the twenty raiders she had at her disposal. Certainly enough to do some damage, and perhaps enough to succeed in wiping out the raider band...If they caught them unawares.

But they certainly did not. A narrow valley was the only approach to the camp from the west, and predictably, the would-be heroes took that path. Ready for their arrival, the raiders had hid up behind ridges, with landmines set where the valley converged to its narrowest. The explosions devastated the group's frontrunners, and the firefight that ensued afterwards was relatively short, with the bandits having the high ground and the mercenaries below having no cover available to them. In the end, Lydia had lost just two of her Red Fangs, while the entire group below was either killed or captured.

Seven of the mercenaries were not immediately killed in the battle. Two more of those died from their wounds moments later, leaving Lydia with five captives: two males and three females. This was no coincidence: female slaves were often more valuable, so her men had been told to shoot to kill the males of the group more mercilessly. All of the captives had been stripped entirely naked, brought to a rusted-iron barred cell below the raider's camp, and bound up to wooden stakes. Shackles held their wrists together behind the poles, while two more manacles attached to the floor bound their ankles to the ground. Escape seemed a highly unlikely prospect, and it was here that the captives were left for several hours, the guards assigned to watching them berating them,

"Look at the tits on that one," one gruff, eye-patched man said to an older raider, "Wanna pop open the door and have a go at her?" "Don't be a dumbass," the gray-haired bandit sharply replied, "Lay a hand on any of 'em before the boss-lady comes around, and I ain't gonna protect you from her." The younger, apparently stupider raider clicked his tongue and muttered some curses, but seemed to see the truth in his older companion's words.

Another couple hours later, the 'boss-lady' did come to check on her prizes. Lydia (or Zenobia, as she styled herself sometimes, after an ancient queen she had read about in some pre-war book her group found) was quite the striking figure, still in her raider's battle-leathers from the fight early that morning. Her head was clean-shaven, but for a shock of dark-brown hair that ran down the center of her scalp, the mohawk falling to cover one side of her head, just to her earlobe. Her skin was a deep bronze like most in this land, as walking the deserts that used to be southern California offered little protection from the harsh sunlight. Tight leathers covered a whiplike and battle-scarred body, her arms left bare to show of the tightly-corded muscle she possessed. Her curves were scant to go along with the lean and fierce build, but the rather wide-for-her-size hips she possessed were distinctly feminine. Black boots reached up just below her knee, and she looked armed to the teeth: a knife sheathed on her forearm, one hanging from her belt, and still another unseen one inside of her boots. The pistol on her hip completed her current armaments.

She entered the cell, examining each of her captives. The males she barely spared a moment for, but to glare at one who became to shout insults as she walked by. The look quickly shut him up, so no reply was deemed necessary. The raideress gave the females of the group a bit more time. She ran her hand down the side of the first one's cheek, her hand snaking slowly over the naked body before her to grasp at a breast and quick it a twist, and further down again to grope unceremoniously between her legs. This girl's only reply was to whimper and sob. The second was not so docile in her response when Lydia moved on to give her the same treatment, giving her captor some harsh words. This drew another glare and a quick-as-lightning slap across the face, turning the girl's cheek red and silencing her complaints.

The leader of the Red Fang moved on to the last of her captives in line, letting her eyes unabashedly drink in the woman's naked figure. "Hmmm..."

((Your character has a very similar hair style to me in real life... though mine's died bright orange right now.))

Cydia or Cyd for short had been the one to call this group together for their little escapade. She'd been in the town less than three months and had seen enough of the raiders. She travelled a lot and did lot of paid work for various settlements. For her kind of profession there was no end of work out here in the barren run down lands of California. She found out when she was young that she liked fighting and that she was really good at it. She'd always hated bullies and those who threw their weight around so naturally she became a vigilante and was revered in various settlements for the help she'd given them. Sure she got paid for her work but that was so that she could keep living... buy more guns and kill more assholes.

She knew this camp was too big for her to realistically tackle on her own so she got some volunteers from the local village to help, she picked the ones that looked like they had a chance of shooting in the right direction and actually making it back alive. They'd fucked up though, one of their lot had gone missing the day before and they assumed she'd just fled out of fear. Turns out she set off first thanks to some kind of deal she had with the Red Fangs and alerted the group to the imminent attack. If they had the element of surprise victory was highly likely, they had a well defended spot but they could cover the distance in no time. Alas they didn't have that luxury.

Cyd was just under five foot and rather large for a girl. Her body was laced with tight muscle that surpassed that of plenty of the men she'd met. She quite large grey eyes that were often hidden by a pair of metal goggles. Her hair had been died with some concoction she'd mixed up and was a bright pink colour that hung around the bottom of her back in long messy dread locks. She had two metal stud piercigns in each of her ears cartilage and on her left here a fang hung on a chain from a small metal loop. She had a lip ring on the left side as well as a stud in her nose. She had been wearing tight brown leather shorts and a vest shirt that matched along with fingerless gloves and some heavy boots. She had a rifle strapped to her back as well as a shot gun. Each thigh held a revolver as well as a knife and she also had one knife on her lower back and another on the inside of her left ankle. She wore several ammo belts that had four grenades clipped on to them. Her breasts were an ample c size and had been taped flat against her chest as to not get in her way. She had tight boxer shorts beneath her shorts, well, she used to. Her nipples were pierced, both with small metal bars going through them. She enjoyed sex and often find a man or woman to hook up with in the various settlements and as such she had a shaved strip above her crotch which gave away her natural blonde colour.

The fight had gone bad and immediately as the fire and explosives started her side began to panic. Many simply turned and tried to run which infuriated her. She was one oft he few along with the sheriff who had given it every thing. She knew she'd popped one with her rifle and made another's chest explode with her shot gun. Once they'd been surrounded she rammed her knife in to at least two of them, only one of them was injured enough to possibly die... she prayed that he had. Eventually she'd been knocked out and woken up fastened to the wood pillar like some kind of doll.

Cyd felt the breeze wash over her body and her nipples began to harden and perk up. She looked around and then down at herself. Fuck, this wasn't a good spot. She tried to squirm free of the bindings but she was held steady and couldn't work her way out. So it was she decided to stay quiet and wait, she didn't want to say anything or give her captives any form of satisfaction. Eventually the 'boss' showed up, some one she'd spotted up on the ridge and taken several close shots at. She watched the woman prowl around and stalk the captives before roughly beginning to fondly the other woman. When it was her turn she quickly spat a gob of saliva towards her. "Take a picture, it will last longer" she barked.

This one -did- look promising. Sure, the one who whimpered and cowered at her touch was prettier in the soft way Lydia usually favored for her slaves, and was not so rough around the edges...But where was the fun in that? No, she was in the mood for a challenge, this time. Besides, the prospective slave did have a certain attractiveness about her: a nice body, a fair enough face, exotic piercings, and a little strip of hair above her pussy that betrayed a hair color more attractive to the raider than that ridiculous pink she had gotten her dreadlocks to. With all that bulk, the captive even looked like she might be stronger than she was, even, though only in body rather than mind...

...And a little fire in her, too, she realizes as she took a glob of spittle across the jaw. For the briefest of moments, a half-smirk crossed Lydia's lips, opposite to the scar that ran down the other cheek. But before long, her face was its usual stern self, whipping her gaze back at this little dreadlocked bitch and seizing her by the each cheek in a vice-grip, leaning in so there was less than an inch between the two.

"Listen, slut," she began, the first time she had spoke to the captives, "I don't need a fucking picture, least of all of some ugly cow like you. I can make this last as long as I damn well want to...Or not." She gave a pointed look down to her hip where the pistol was holstered at that, in case her meaning was not understood clearly enough. A moment after, her free hand whipped up, prying the girl's mouth open to return the spit in kind, though her own was aimed directly into the mouth the saliva that had struck her jaw had come from.

Releasing her soon-to-be-servant, she stepped back, turning to the pair of raiders who accompanied her, "Get this one out, but keep the irons about her wrists and get me a collar and leash. She seems dumb enough that she might get some ideas, otherwise." She tipped her head to the comparatively timid first girl in line, who was in tears now, "That one is for all you boys to share. Make sure you keep her alive to raise any brats she pushes out, if you manage to knock her up. We could use some new blood..." She was interrupted as the girl began to beg, "No! No, please! Let me go! I'll do anything! I have caps, back home, just take me there and I'll..."

Lydia cut her off with more words to her men, seeming thoroughly uninterested in the pleas for mercy, "And gag her, too, if you don't want the headache. The other three can stay here for now, 'til the slavers come around for another visit. Keep 'em fed and watered, a bit. Dead slave isn't worth a lot in a trade." As her men set off to see about her orders, taking the first of the female captives screaming off with them, Lydia turned back towards the dreadlocked girl she had selected, giving a cruel half-grin, "Seems like you're the lucky winner, eh?"

The way this one was staring at Cyd pissed her off, it was obvious she liked what she saw and Cyd assumed she had a taste for women. She heard her speak and couldn't help but laugh. She leant her head forward and tried to flash a quick lip across the other girls lips. "Aww what's the matter cupcake? Am I not your type? That's a shame, keep me here if you want, I need a good sun tan" she responded in that cocky mocking tone of hers. She growled a little as her mouth was forced open and sighed as the other spat in to her mouth. She made sure to swallow it though and give a low groan to pretend she actually enjoyed it. "You've got a sweet taste, muffin, how about you let me down and let me have another?" she then flashed her a quick wink.

Cyda didn't care too much for what happened to the other captives, she pittied the one to be used as a breeder but she didn't know her and thus found it hard to become overly sentimental. At least it wasn't her in that situation... though she'd likely end up getting shot by the men at some point. Leave her chained up and with a collar and lead huh? She hated the idea of being led around like some hound but... she wasn't goign to complain, she wasn't giving any satisfaction away that she didn't have to. The threat of being shot did little to her, she always expected to die on one of her hunts at some point and being shot wasn't so bad. "Lucky winner? Perhaps, you're the one who has got yourself such a prize though, hun"

Lydia's reply came across as almost entirely disinterested as she watched the stairway the two men had left through, not even turning to the girl as she prattled on, "You can shut that gob of your's anytime you'd like to, cow." She let out an amused sort of snort, though her face remained rather stoic, "I'd gag you like that other bitch is going to get, but for now I think it's kind of funny that a slave like you thinks she's clever. For now." Finally, she did turn her gaze to give the chained-up girl's body a nonplussed once-over, her words matter-of-fact, "And you aren't much of a prize, really, cow. Bit too fat for my tastes. You should have seen the last little hooker I got my hands on for a bedwarmer. Now -she- had a body." In truth, this one was good-looking enough...But letting slaves think too highly of themselves did not lend itself to the subservient mindset she tried to breed into them. Lydia shrugged noncommittally, "But you'll do, I suppose."

For several more minutes, they waited, just Lydia and the four remaining captives. Apparently, the raider leader had a good deal of faith, either in the chains that held all of those who would gladly kill her given half a chance, the knives sheathed around her body, or a bit of both.

Eventually, footsteps came down the staircase, just one of the men returning without the younger raider and the newly enslaved woman that had left. "Here ya go, boss," the old raider tossed Lydia a black-leather collar with a metal chain attached, and set to getting the dreadlocked girl out of her ankle-shackles, as ordered. He briefly undid the manacles about her wrists as well, only long enough to get her free from the post she was bound to before relocking them, hands still behind her back. Lydia tipped a simple nod to him, and he apparently was well-practiced enough in this to get the hint, "On your knees, slave," he ordered, though the swift boot he gave to the back of the girl's bare leg did not make it much of a choice.

Lydia took a step in once the girl was kneeling before her, holding the collar forward, her tone more even than before, but still far from anything like friendly, "I suggest not doing anything as dumb as you have been. Even someone as simple minded as you, slave, should find that belonging to me is not the worst of the fates available to you." With nothing more than that, she tried to fit the collar around the dreadlocked woman's neck, providing there was no struggle offered...

As she spoke Cyd couldn't help but chuckle at her, she expected something more... impressive as the leader of these bandits. She was actually incredibly disappointed that some one like her was leading them. "Blah blah blah, what ever princess, you think no one's ever called me a name before? Fat? Come on, you can do better than that, how about you make fun of the scars I've got? But sure, yeah you boast about the pretty girls you've captured, keep going, I am VERY impressed. Unfortunately I've never captured any of my partners, I've only ever won mine over the usual way." she still had that cocky grin on her face and she had every intention of pissing this woman off as much as she could. She was smaller than her and Cyd had found very few people who were any way near as good a brawler as her, if she got a chance to put her hands on this bitch she was going to choke the life out of her.

When her wrists were unclasped and moved from the wooden pillar she immediately made a swing for the closest man but they were ready for her and worked her arm behind her back again and Cyd found herself bound again. It was just as well that the man kicked her knee because there was no way she'd have gone to her knees willingly. She came down rather hard on her knees and likely had some scrapes along them. She looked back up to her captor now and rolled her eyes. "Dying has never bothered me" she said in a cool low tone. Of course she wasn't going to just let them collar her and she did her best to lunge forward and try to sink her teeth in to the other woman's hand. There wasn't much more she could do though and soon enough they'd have a collar around her neck.

The continuous stream of backtalk from this one amused Lydia once again. She had a good deal of spirit in her, and it would be enjoyable to watch as it completely broke. The lunge this girl made for her hand, however, was less than amusing. Her predatory eyes narrowed in a glare down at the girl, and the hand that held the collar drew back to be replaced by the other, whirring forward in a vicious backhand across the new slave's face. "Insolent bitch. Guess I was thinking too highly of you, to expect you to see reason." After a bit more of a struggle, eased by the slight stunning effect her slap may have had, the collar was around the girl's neck. Enraged momentarily by the show of defiance, Lydia sent a kick into the girl's side after the collaring work was done, her thick boots causing it to be quite a painful blow.

Lydia took hold of the chain, bunching it up in one hand so that it pulled taut against the girl's throat. "Now, your first lesson of many, sow," Lydia began, her henchman staying behind to watch the show with a cruel half-grin, "Is how to follow. Whether I have you leashed or not, I expect to not have to tell you every time I want you walking after me, so you will listen for this, instead." She snapped her fingers, a sign one would use to get a dog's attention, more than a human's. "Once you can be trusted to not be quite stupid enough to always need your shackles, you will crawl behind me on hands and knees when we go out from where you will be living. For now, however, you may walk, but you will keep your head bowed, to show that we are not equals."

She leaned down slightly to look the girl she claimed in the eye, still keeping a firm hold on her chain leash, "Are we clear, slave?" A small half-smirk spread on her lips, "Ah, and I guess I should give you a lesson in addressing me, before you go get yourself in more trouble. The pet names you've come up with already for your owner are...endearing, but not quite appropriate. You'll call me 'Mistress,' 'Mistress Zenobia,' or 'Mistress Lydia,' from now on. And you will answer to whatever the fuck I want to call you at the time. Now, are we clear on all that, or was I speaking too quickly for your slow wits?"

She could see the flicker of rage building in to a fire within her captor and that brought her some grim satisfaction, she knew it meant things would be much harder for her but it was worth it, she was no easy game and she intended to fight tooth and nail. When the slap came she wasn't entirely surprised but it definitely stung. Her head moved with the slap to lessen the force a little but it did stun her a little. Her cheek began to turn a bright pink colour. "Awww, did I hurt your feelings, sweetie? Poor ba-" she was cut off by the kick which caused her to grunt aloud in pain and lean to her injured side out of reaction. She gave a loud cough before finishing her words. "bad bandit leader" she spluttered.

She really expected her to follow like some kind of dog? She wasn't going to follow stood up and definitely not on her hands and knees, who the fuck did this woman think she was? She loved to prattle on but it was not really getting through, talk was definitely not suddenly going to change Cyd's mind or make her see reason. Though... the talk about being trusted enough not to need her shackles did interest her. Could she pretend to be some well trained pet for this bitch just so that she'd be left unshackled and have a chance to kill her? That was definitely something to consider. Fine, she'd try and play along a little, she wouldn't believe a full switch around but... maybe if she gave way here and there. She listened now and thought the other one was in a world of her own? Seriously? She wanted Cyd to call her Mistress?. Cyd couldn't care less what names were thrown her way but she did not like the thought of calling any one mistress. "Sure" she replied though she didn't use the woman's preferred title.

Lydia's reply was sharp, punctuated by another slap, even harder than the last and this time with her palm rather than her knuckles, causing the skin-on-skin noise to ring out in the small cell. "Try again, sow, and address me properly. Take as long as you want with your pointless defiance, I have as long as I need, today."

Her brown eyes narrowed again, staring expectantly down at the girl as her grip tightened just slightly on the leash.

Cyd was a slow learner and she took the slap and still refused to speak. Her face burnt red and stung like a bitch but she didn't care. She'd likely have to slap her another five or six times before the message finally started to sink in. She hissed with pain with each slap but glared up at the woman. Eventually after a long cold glare she said "Fine, Mistress Lydia." she spat out and then waited, if it's what she wanted she'd stand up and dip her head, just a little, and follow her.

Indeed, Lydia gave a few moments after each slap, but after a few moments of silent protest from her slave, her hand would lash out again, alternating cheeks until she had struck the girl have a dozen times. Her will, even when it came to this simple matter, was stronger than most of the ones she had broken in the past, it had to be said. Although once her cheeks were both glowing bright red, she did finally comply, calling her by the requested honorary the raider styled herself with when dealing with her slaves.

"Good girl," she said with a rather unkind half-smile, "It seems you are able to learn simple things, at least." She gave a tug upwards on the leash and snapped her fingers with her other hand, as had been laid out as a signal before. "Follow, and make sure she listens to my orders," she said to her man as the trio made for the stairs.

The camp was quite extensive, located atop a bluff with just a singular obvious exit down a slope into the valley where the vigilantes had been ambushed and captured. A ramshackle watchtower overlooked this way and the ravine below. There were only a handful of other structures: a communal bunkhouse, mess hall, and lounge for the majority of her men being the largest, a few outhouses, an armory, a small cabin for the slaves they kept, and a trio of domiciles. Two were for Lydia's more trusted lieutenants, one of whom was needing replacing after dying to a bounty hunter's bullet in the earlier attack, while the third, finest one was her own. The final structure was where Lydia was leading her slave, however.

This was perhaps the group's most prized possession, as water was not exactly scarce in the wasteland, but water worth drinking certainly was. The purifier was a tank running down into a wooden structure with several hoses and nozzles coming off from it. A small farm-plot was nearby, being tended to by a man and a woman. Both were clad only in loinclothes, both had a brand of the Red Fang insignia on their breast, and both had a rather dull look about them, barely taking noticing of the naked woman being paraded on a chain out before them.

Lydia attached the other end of the slave's leash to a post jutting out from the ground nearby to the purifier. "Fetch a razorblade," she said to her henchman, as she walked to pluck up a hose. She waited in silence, even if the enslaved girl did not, until the man returned a brief moment later. The raider gestured impatiently to the girl, "Get all of that ridiculous hair off of her. That won't do, for me." She smirked a bit, speaking more directly to the slave, "Perhaps I can make you a bit more pleasant to look at, at least."

Obedient to his leader at least to this degree, the man started after the slave, trying to hack off her hair so it was buzzed close to her scalp. Having observed her before, he was prepared for a struggle, even bound as she was...

She ignored the mock praise that her captor gave her and just followed her in a brooding silence. She did her best to memorize the lay of the camp, it would definitely be something that would come in to use. She tried to work out how many people were likely here too... no more than two or three dozen she guessed. Her eyes did lock on to the water purification tank and lingered on it. She was genuinely surprised they had something like that within their camp... that was extremely rare and valuable and could be used by any of the nearby towns. She then noticed the almost naked slaves and pitied them a little... they looked so... hopeless. She wondered if that's what they intended to try and do with her and internally vowed to never let it happen.

When they stopped she was paying full attention now. He leash was tethered up and she sighed, really, they felt the need to lash her by the collar to a post? Then she heard them mention a blade, the fuck? They were going to try and kill her already? Or perhaps just maim her? Either way she was going to make them work for it. When he returned the reason for the razor was announced and she snarled. Her hair was naturally light blonde and curly, her mother had always said how lovely it was. She hated it, it wasn't her. She liked her hair now, it was different, unique and something to her own style. Although she wasn't too vain and didn't overly care about looks she would rather keep her hair. When he came close she stayed still and waited until he was as close as he could get. She then rammed backwards in to him to make a little space before stomping back with her heavy boot on his instep. She was fast and it was something she'd had a lot of practice at, finally she swung her head backwards towards his nose in the hopes of breaking it like she had many before. Despite her struggle though eventually she'd get over powered long enough for them to shave away those long bright locks of her. She looked down at them on the floor and lamented them for a moment. She felt odd... she'd had them as long as she could remember and she felt completely naked now. She'd never had this little hair in her life. She could feel the cool breeze washing over her scalp.

Lydia watched in smug satisfaction as her orders were followed. The resistance and the fight she gave her man was fully expected, and it was amusing to watch. After all was said and done, the man had a broken and bloodied nose for his troubles, and bright-pink dreadlocks were strewn around the ground. "Wonder how you'd do fighting someone with hands," she chastised her man, who only grumbled discontentedly in reply.

And then, rather abruptly, Lydia started the hose and turned it on her slave. The water was cool, which would likely at first be a pleasant sensation in contrast to the hot sun of the wastelands. After several moments under the icy stabs of high-pressure water, however, it would become painful and numbing both at once. "Turn," she instructed her slave, cleaning the other side of her if she complied. She stilled the water before giving the next command, "Now, show me your cunt." The despicable order was given with a callous casualness.

The blood dripped down from the man's nose on to her back and she relished the feeling, at least she'd given something back, that made things just a little bit more bearable, hearing her captor berate the man for his ineptitude for combat. Still though, annoyance was etched in to her face as she looked down at her long dreadlocks that she'd had for well over ten years. She was still staring down at her missing hair when she felt the hose blast her. She let out a quick uncharacteristic squeak thanks to being caught completely off guard though she made sure to silence herself immediately afterwards. The water was nice and it cooler her slightly sunburnt body down, she was hot thanks to being strung up in the baking sun all day. She was thirsty too but she wasn't about to go and try drinking from a hose. After several minutes the cold became too much, her body was covered with little goose bumps and her nipples were well and truly erect, the piercings making them seem more so than they actually were. Her body began to go numb and she felt the chill begin to ache her body towards the end. Of course she just clenched her teeth and embraced it but... it wasn't pleasant. The dirt sweat and mud ran down from her and in to the hot ground. When she was ordered to turn around she did so, it wasn't a bad command and definitely not something worth taking a beating for. She felt the water run over her back then which was, thankfully, no where near as cold as her front so the pain began wasn't there, not at first. When the next order came she froze for a moment and considered throwing a profanity back... but it wasn't as though she hadn't been paraded around naked already so her captor had seen what she had to offer. She bit her lip, sighed and leant forward as best as she could with her arms bound behind her back. As she leant forward her butt cheeks spread and her ass along with her cunt were on display.

A smug smirk came to Lydia's lips as she watched on, seeing the rather clear reluctance in her captive's compliance but choosing to take no note of it, "Such an obedient little cow already. There might still be some hope for you." The high-pressure water started again, thoroughly and unceremoniously cleaning the girl's nethers with its cold touch.

Tossing the hose aside, the mohawked woman took hold of the leash and unhitched it from the post, leading her new girl through the camp once more. The now broken-nosed guard still followed just behind, keeping an eye on the enslaved woman.

Lydia didn't even spare a glance back as she casually asked, "So, slut, how much were those idiot settlers offering you for my blood? I'm curious how much it costs for you to throw your life away so carelessly." The trio were nearing the largest of the separate buildings now, apparently Lydia's home.

The cool icy hose water to her pussy wasn't a good feeling. It sent shivers through her body and before long it began to really ache. She was relieved when the water was removed and genuinely happy when the hose was thrown away. 'At least that's done' she thought to herself while shivering. She was untethered and she saw the man who's nose she had smashed following her again as they set off. She was reluctant to do as Lydia had asked but... she did dip her head a little.

Her body began to heat up rather quickly thanks to the hot sun and before long the goose prickles had gone and she was hot once again. Sweat would form on her brow and she began to hope she wasn't left outside to bake again. "How much..? Not much at all, a small place to stay, some caps and the likes... It hardly seemed to warrant any more." 'And at least I will still be able to claim them once you've drawn your last breath' she thought inwardly.

Lydia went out a derisive snort, seeming almost a touch offended, "Just a few caps? Well, they got what they paid for, I suppose." A tug on the chain leash brought her slave girl through the threshold to her home, and she dismissed the guard she had brought with her.

The room was expansive, given the small camp it stood in. It was also quite a mess, at the moment, with utensils and plates and cardboard boxes and clothes scattered throughout. A staircase led up to the room above, presumably a bedroom of sorts, while a small aclove stood through a doorway, where Lydia kept her guns and other weaponry. Bloodstained helmets of the slavers from Caesar's Legion decorated one table. It was how Lydia had gotten her repute among the raiders, and her name of 'Zenobia,' from fighting the so-called 'Romans' as the queen in history had. Not that most even knew about such things, in the wasteland.

She hitched the chain leash to a post in the center of the room, and sat on the sofa in front of it. It was raggedy, sure, but actually a pretty good piece of furniture, by the post-apocolyptic standards people had become accustomed to. "Now, slut," she began, her eyes up on her servant, "I get the idea that you might still think you are a person in the same way that I am. That you still matter." She gave a little snort, as if amused, "I might, if I was dumb enough to get myself caught, too. But either way, we need to get that silly idea out of your head now." She gave a downward gesture, "So repeat after me, or we will do things the hard way, 'I am not the woman I was before. I am property of Mistress Zenobia, and will do and be used as she sees fit. My purpose in life is now her, and will be until I am either set aside, or I breath my last breath."

A small smirk crossed her lips. 'The hard way' was the most likely option, with a girl like this, but seeing a formerly proud woman say all that would be just as amusing.

She didn't care how her captor felt about how little this job was paying. When the leash was tugged Cydia staggered forward and only just managed to stay on her feet. She had a quick look around the room and then shrugged a little, it was a tip, unkempt, wild and a mess, it was clear she kept the best things in the camp for herself. The room resembled any room Cyd had always had, she was never good at keeping tidy or clean. She noticed the Caesar's legion helms and smirked, she'd kill a few herself... that gave her hope, at some point this bitch was liable to get herself killed by them.

Again she was fastened up like some kind of animal to a post in the middle of the room and that just caused him to give a long low sigh. Slut huh? She had a nice vocabulary. Of course she still thought herself a person, she always would, that's exactly what she was. She gave a yawn and turned around showing her back and her ass to her captor just about the time she gave her that ridiculous sentence. "The hard way is fine by me sweet thing" she threw back at her while remaining faced away.

The reply was hardly a surprise to Lydia, and she didn't look terribly taken aback. "I could have guessed. Very well, have it your way, slave." With that, she rose from the sofa, moving to ascend the staircase to her room. After a few moment's spent leaving the slave alone, she returned with a wicked looking coiled-leather whip in hand.

"With me, cow." She gave the order but didn't leave it to be much of a choice, unhitching the leash from the post and wrapping the chain about her hand to pull it taught, enough to choke to some extent. She led the girl outside, back into the harsh wasteland sun, taking her out to the highest point of the bluff the camp was built on.

Two wooden posts stood here, about five feet apart, and their purpose would become apparent quite immediately. A pair of shackles were on each, one high and one low, and soon enough, Lydia was setting to fixing each of the naked, bald girl's ankles and wrists into place. The posture this forced was awkward to say the least, with each leg spread wide and the arms held uncomfortably far out and up towards the sky. The post-apocolypse California heat was hardly helping the matter.

"One last chance, stupid girl. Simply say, 'Your property apologizes for acting up beyond her station, mistress Zenobia." Lydia hardly expected compliance, and, truth be told, was considering making use of the whip either way. She had gone through the trouble of the shackles, after all.

Cydia's eyes were open and following the girl as she left and then shortly returned. She saw the coiled whip and knew instantly what it was. Fuck... this was going to hurt... should she have just said that shit? No, no she shouldn't. She was going to stay where she was standing though the hard tug yanked her forward and caused her to cough aloud as it constricted her throat. She was brought right back out in the sun much to her dislike. Her skin was still pink and burnt from earlier and she'd had enough sun.

The posts purpose was obvious, she wasn't an idiot and she could see the shackles. The sun began to burn the top of her newly exposed head again and she hissed a little. She was bound much to her distaste and in a far more awkward and uncomfortable position. He arms were stretched out causing her shoulders to ache and her breasts to stick out, the leg restraints spread her wide and left her exposed and rather helpless. She was offered the last chance and it would look worse if she gave in now... she had to take this regardless or she couldn't live with herself. She remained quiet and gritted her teeth, waiting for the inevitable.

There was a silence as Lydia waited for her slave to comply with her unreasonable demands. Well, silence but for the cries and screams coming from the larger building below and behind them, coming from the girl who was suffering an arguably worse fate at the hands of the rest of the raiders. After a few moment, the woman did speak in a disinterested sort of way, "I thought as much." And then the assault began...

The first crack of leather through the air wasn't aimed at the bald girl, intended to frighten rather than harm. The second and all those after, however, were far less merciful. Lydia was quite adept with this weapon's use, striking all across the flesh exposed to her with stinging, burning blows. Red lines, some bleeding, and some hard enough to permanently mar her slave, were left across the girl's shoulders, her back, her ass, the backs of her thighs...The slaver didn't stop until there were no less than twenty-three blows delivered. Any lurching forward, because of the location, would have caused a fall from the cliffs the posts were facing, but the shackles made it so there was only the fear of this, rather than the reality.

Lydia did not sound too sympathetic to the girl's plight as she spoke, "Another simple choice, than, slave, though you seem to be having trouble with even those so far: say, "Your slave-bitch apologizes, mistress Zenobia..." a small, cruel smirk formed as she went on, "...Or you spend a day out here."

The wait felt a lot longer than it was and that first crack of the whip almost made her flinch... almost. When the first strike came she kept her teeth clenched and grunted in pain. The second which left a bloody welt that would scar got a long hiss, the third, another bleeder, was along her left ass cheek and that caused her lips to open for a slight yelp. The next made it impossible to keep her mouth shut and she yelled out loud, as she did with the next and the next. Her yells turned to roars, cries and then yelps of pain. her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails were digging in to her skin and drawing blood. Each time the whip struck she felt as though she was about to plummet to her death.

By the last strike her body was shaking quite uncontrollably from the onslaught and blood ran down her back in thin streaks. her body was sore and tender and she knew that she would wear these scars for the rest of her life. She blinked away the tears that had welled in the corner of her eyes and took in deep ragged breaths, each one was a struggle and it caused ripples of pain to spread through her. The onslaught stopped and she was glad, more so than she'd imagined. She had no intention of taking more of that whip, not now any way and she did not want to remain staked up in the sun. It wounded her to do so but right now her pride mattered a little less. She would still fight but, she'd given her defiance for now. The words tasted bitter on her mouth and she practically spat them out between broken gasping breaths. "Your... slave-bitch" she had to pause for a second after that, it felt like acid was coming up from her stomach "Apologises... mistress Zenobia". There... it was said.

Lydia smirked as she stood behind the girl, leering at both her handiwork with the whip and the new view on the body she claimed. "Good girl. See, now was that so hard?" She set to work unfastening the shackles, first at each of the girl's ankles, and then her wrists. She reattached the irons that held the wrists together afterwards, binding them out in front of her. A tug on the chain leash set them on their way again, back towards the raider leader's home.

"Now, girl," she led the shaven-headed woman through the room towards a messy kitchenette sort of area, the cupboards and refrigerator stocked with scavenged pre-war nonperishables, a few things from the small farm beside the water purifier, and meats from the various wasteland creatures that the raiders had hunted. "One of your most important tasks will be fixing my meals. In time, you will be allowed to eat as well, but you've been entirely too disobedient today for that, and besides..." she leered down the length of her slave's legs, half-smirking, "you could do to lose some of those thunder-thighs." To punctuate her words, she gave a smack to the back of the aforementioned thigh, still tender from the whipping it took. "Get to it, slut." Lydia let out a laugh at her own words, hitching the leash to a post that allowed reach to the whole kitchen, but no further, and turning to go lounge on the tattered sofa on the other side of the room.

...And she was all too aware that she had left the manacles that held her wrists together in place, complicating this task some.

She didn't try and fight back, not right now, she was tired and dizzy from the pain and the sun and her body was aching all over. The manacles were fastened and when the tug came she obediently set off after her captor. She was more grateful than she ever had been for the shade when they got inside and didn't care too much as she was hitched up. Her wrists and ankles throbbed from the writhing she'd done in her restraints.Wait... she had to what? Cook? That was something she never did... or not very often. She threw stuff on a fire and ate it afterwards but she was definitely no cook. "Cooking's really not one of my talents"... she complained aloud... though it didn't seem to matter.

For fuck sake... she just wanted to curl up and get some rest now... the slap to her thigh irritated her but she didn't react. She was definitely muscular but that was something she liked... she liked the edge it gave her, she didn't want to lose that. She looked around the kitchen when left to it and saw a knife... the temptation almost siezed her... but common sense prevailed. She was bound, hitched and weak, it wouldn't work yet. She instead used it to cut several strips of meat and threw them in to a pot along with some sliced vegetables from the farm and a tin of canned mushrooms. It was simple and easy but at least it was effort, she was tempted to just give her a strip of raw meat but she knew she;d be made to do it again. The pot was placed on the fire and left. She just stood by it waiting for something to happen. She was tempted to eat regardless of what Zenobia had said... but she chose not to.

Lydia had set to playing cards while she waited to be served, a simple game of solitaire. She did spare a glance to ensure that her orders to keep her slave-girl hungry were being followed, but otherwise paid her almost no mind. "I was hungry today, you know, girl. And don't forget something to drink, either." Her eyes lifted from her game to look over towards the kitchen, seeing that the girl's work was done. So she rose with a rather reluctant slowness, going over to unhitch her from the wooden post and lead her back over to the couch.

"You may kneel there and keep the things in your hands." This order was given despite the fact that a perfectly good table was right in front of the couch, of course, but she knew the smell of the food might play on the hungry girl's mind, and still needed to instill a servile mindset in this fiery one. She plucked out a piece of meat as she resumed her card game, speaking without looking to the girl, "So what was your name anyway, slave?"

The choice of the word 'was' seemed intentional.