WoA - Chap 2 | Rusti

  Sweat started to slide down my now trembling thighs as I continued to hold myself up in the awkward position. I didn't want to move too much, not just for pain's sake, but to avoid any more attention. I only had a strange, leather-like skirt to wear around my hips that had multiple pieces of leather strips hanging from it from damage, I assumed. The flimsy scrap that had served as a shirt had been lost during the latest struggle back into the cage, and I had no shoes. So I was hanging here, tits out, while the male in the cage to my right went to town on himself and huffed his exertion through the bars.
  He was having a good time. I got the sense that he had a more familiar build to me. Two legs, ten toes, a similar physique to a hardcore gym junkie on steroids, and only a little taller than me where I stood at almost 190cm.
  The only thing that was off, was the fact that I was fairly positive he had four arms.
  I could hear one five-fingered hand jerking himself off while another gripped the bars closest to me. Another held onto the bars above his head, and the last he used to fondle himself, I assumed. The grunts and huffs were eerily similar to an angry bull.
  I suppose I was lucky he was staying inside his cage rather than jamming his dick or hands through the bars at me. The creature to my immediate left was asleep and had ignored my existence thus far. Just as well, because when he moved around the sounds he made were reminiscent of Alfredo pasta being stirred around the pot.
  I didn't want to know.
  The jerker to my right slammed his hand against the bars, rattling both of our cages and sending a jolt of pain through my shoulders as they were jostled. He was getting more aggressive on himself. He was getting closer, I guess. Thank god for that.
  What he didn't realise was that one of the guards, the one with multiple bug-like legs that clicked on the ground, had been watching him and had quietly gotten the hose out. I could hear sniggers from the cages on the other side of the room as the others watched on. They knew what was happening, but Mr. Fapper was none the wiser.
  One of the only saving graces was that once in a while they hosed us down to clean out the ages. The water's spray was powerful and hurt like hell and smelled foul, but it was better than nothing. Mr. Fapper started grunting louder and pounded the bars in time with his thrusts.
  The closer he got, the more glee I could feel emanating from the guard as he crept closer to us, his hose at the ready, and even Mr. Alfredo to my left rolled over, awake and immediately clued in.
  I could hear the muscles in Mr. Fapper's body tensing up as he got closer ... so close. Right on the edge of that universal male release, and the guard pulled the squeaky handle on the hose. He blasted the guy with a harsh spray of foul, borderline boiling water that pushed him into the back wall of his cage. Mr. Fapper howled in shock and frustration at the interruption and laughter erupted around the room.
  The guard shut off the water and chittered something in a high-pitched voice that garnered another round of laughter and cage-rattling from the other captives. Mr. Fapper slammed all four of his fists against the walls of his cage and bellowed wordlessly, then kicked the bars closest to me as if this were my fault. The guard chittered again and dropped the house with a heavy thunk before scuttling about closer to us. A moment later, the chains holding my arms back behind me were released and I fell hard on my side with a gasp.
  He scuttled back again, picked up the hose, and blasted me with it.
  It was hot and disgusting but minutely refreshing, and he didn't hold the skin-tearing blast on me nearly as long as he did on the other man. I heard it clunk to the ground again and the guard chittered before shuffling away towards the metal doors to the left.
  I guess he'd decided I'd been strung up and punished for long enough, so I was choosing to take his actions as a semi-kind gesture. As kind as anything was in this place.
  I got my legs under me and managed to get into a sitting position with my wrists still shackled behind my back. Mr. Alfredo said something in a strange, monotone bumbling and buzzing stream of noises, and I had no way of interpreting his meaning one way or another. Instead, I weaselled around until my back was straight and my legs out in front of me so I could just ... slide my shackled wrists under my butt, then under my legs until my hands were in front of me.
  Mr. Alfredo laughed, that sound was obvious, then turned over the other way and went back to sleep. Everyone else quietened down after a time as well, and I bent and stretched my legs, trying to get the pressure in my knees to let go.
  Mr. Fapper made an enunciated show of turning around and putting his back to me. Did he think he was punishing me? Or was he trying to avoid temptation?
  Nobody would ever know, because our momentary peace was quickly interrupted by both metal doors swinging open with a bang. This usually meant someone was being brought in, or taken out, and I didn't know what happened to those that were taken out.
  I'd woken up on a ship and had been kept in a clean-ish metal cage for days. Or weeks? I knew it was a ship because I'd felt it shudder as it entered the atmosphere of whatever this planet was. Felt the engine's rumble and the jet's propulsion as it navigated around and landed on the ground. I hadn't realised what it was at the time, but thinking back on it now, I sussed out the different events.
  We'd landed here and I'd been hauled out, stripped, inspected, poked and prodded ... it had been when a scaly hand had grabbed my tit that I had gone full feral. At the time, I still thought maybe it was a crazy haze prank, but that had been too far and I'd broken an arm. Then another ... and another ... because they'd kept escalating with batons and whips, so I'd kept escalating from anger to feral to full berserk insanity.
  Then I'd gotten the collar and a nice shock to go along with it. After that, I'd been hauled through those metal doors and deposited into this nice little cage.
  Two figures came through those doors this time, and neither one was in chains. One was big and hulking with large feet that smacked thickly on the floor. The sounds that came from this one when he moved made me think his skin had some kind of scaly texture, like an alligator. He'd been through here a few times before, and his language had human-like syllables in a deep, grusky voice.
  The other figure, however, piqued my interest immediately.
  This one was human.
  I could tell by the smell. Sure, he stank of this world, this weather, this environment, but beneath that, he smelled familiar. Like home. I felt my nostrils flare as I breathed it in and tried to take in more of what I was smelling. He was older, maybe in his fifties or so. Slight limp from the left knee which cracked a bit when he walked. He was of average weight, average height, average build, from what I could hear.
  He spoke the same guttural language of his hulking guide and they moved down the line of cages on the other side of the room. They stopped by each one, and the alligator would say something and the man would respond. It felt like a sales pitch and they were inspecting the merchandise.
  They continued down the line, chatting and occasionally laughing, with a few harsher words spoken over certain cages. The captive on the far right of our side of the room let out a wolf-like snarl when they approached his cage. The rest had been quiet, but this one snapped and snarled and I could hear large, sharp teeth behind those greasy jowls.
  Mr. Fapper turned and gave them his back when they stopped by his cage and he crossed all four of his arms across his chest, yet somehow the gesture felt more like he was hugging and hunching in on himself, rather than being indignant.
  He didn't want to be bought.
  Their conversation over him barely lasted a few moments before the human let out a small 'huh' and moved in front of my cage and squatted down to eye level in front of me. I was still sitting, knees up and my chained hands in front of them. My twat was probably on full display, as were my tits, but that was the least of my problems now.
  The human man started rattling off in the guide's language but his face never turned from me. I didn't need to see him to know he was staring. I could feel it. They argued a bit, and the alligator sounded ... dismissive? Was he waving me off as a waste? I didn't know if I should be slighted or glad, but it didn't matter.
  The man stood and I heard a rattle as he pulled out what could only be a coin purse of some kind and they began to argue in fervour. They were haggling. Mr. Alfredo had turned back to me sometime during this and said something I didn't understand. I only shook my head at him, because what else could I do?
  “Gough’k,” the human said harshly.
  “Rouk’le,” Mr. Alligator responded.
  “Gough’k!” The human said harshly.
  Mr. Alligator hmm’d and ha’d a bit before finally letting out a hefty sigh.
  “Egh’t,” he said, and the two clasped hands. The human’s five-fingered, normal hand smacked into a much larger, thicker, tougher hide. The human turned back to look at his new acquisition.
  “Well, well, well,” he said in English ... No, not just the English language, an English accent.
  This mother fucker was British?
  That startled me so much that I felt my face drop before I could stop it and he let out a small laugh.
  “Qui audet adipisctur,” he said. Latin. Who Dares Wins. It was tattooed on the side of my right wrist. I’d gotten after I’d had to leave the service ...
  “Isn’t that interesting?” He said a moment before I heard the click of my collar and heard the electrifying sizzle a split second before it went off.