Twenty-seven thousand miles above the Earth, the automated research-station, Techno-1,1 floated silently in its geo-stationary orbit over the central USA, its sophisticated computer-banks monitoring every detail of the incredibly complex and delicate manufacturing processes being carried out inside its mile-long hull.

The vessel was a synth-ship, designed to grow synthetic human and animal organs to replace those damaged or destroyed by age or accident and was capable of producing any of the billions of combinations of cells that went to make up a living organism; from the simplest, single-cell amoeba, to a complete, undetectable clone of a human individual.

Although full-scale cloning had been banned for the last twenty years by the Governing Council of the Earth, because of its ethical and moral implications, that was the reason all synthetic manufacture took place off-planet on ships like the Techno-11.

Chief Science Officer Doctor Shona Kington considered the ban to be a quite ridiculous and unnecessary restriction on the progress of science, imposed by pen-pushing clerks and stupid politicians afraid of what they were incapable of understanding. After all, as the only real human aboard the vessel, she was well used to working with the three "synths" … synthetically-cloned workers, who made up the remainder of the crew.

The "synths", two male and one female, were efficient and well-trained, carrying out the duties she allocated them without complaint or any of the moodiness or petty bickering that would certainly have arisen if true humans had been required to spend their entire lives marooned aboard the ship thanks to the Governing Council's ban. Even Shona herself found that each twelve-month tour of duty became hard to bear towards the end, but at least she had the compensation of six months of leave and an extremely large pay-packet to look forward to while the "synths" continued to monitor the automated processing she had set up.

The "synths" would never be allowed on Earth, of course, but Shona could only assume from their lack of complaint, that they felt they were much better off than the vast majority of their kind who had been "reallocated" following the ban, or, to put it less coyly, humanely terminated.

She supposed the ship was the best they could hope for and wished she could do something for them, but the laws were absolutely rigid and if she even attempted to intervene on their behalf, she'd be out of a job and on a world-wide blacklist. Meaning she would never get a decent job anywhere, so, sympathetic though she was to their plight, Shona kept her mouth firmly shut.

As Commander of the Techno-11, she had complete authority over all aspects of the running of the ship and was only required to report progress to the Company on a monthly basis. Other than that, she had absolute freedom to run the operation as she saw fit and it was this very fact that was her downfall ...

With nothing to hold her in check and unrestricted access to the most modern technology available in her field of expertise, Shona was unable to resist the temptation to use her skills and knowledge to the full. On her next return from leave and with twelve months of duty ahead, she set about cloning a perfect duplicate of herself, using her own DNA as the template.

Seven months after beginning her greatest challenge, Doctor Shona Kington gazed down at the naked woman on the examination table before her, marvelling at the perfection of her firm breasts, flat belly and long, slim legs. It had never really occurred to her that she was particularly attractive and although she'd had three affairs at various times in her twenty-six years of life, sex had always been little more than a messy and frankly annoying distraction from the scientific research and work that was her real love.

But, as she looked at her cloned twin, she felt a strange, unfamiliar glow of warmth fill her belly and a strong compulsion to reach out and caress the pale mounds of her breasts.

"Don't be silly," she murmured, "That's crazy. I'm just tired because I've been working so hard."

It was true, but it still didn't stop her hand from moving forward and brushing delicately over the soft flesh of the woman's right breast. At the first touch, her eyelids sprang open and Shona jerked her hand back, her face reddening as two clear blue eyes stared calmly up at her and her own voice spoke quietly.

"What are you doing, Dr Kington?"

"N-Nothing. Nothing at all," Shona stammered and the woman arched her eyebrows and chuckled softly.

"What a pity." she said, "It was nice. Why don't you carry on? I won't stop you."

Shona's blush deepened, then she made a determined effort to regain her lost composure.

Yes ... well ... Look, never mind what I was doing," she retorted firmly, "We need to talk. I have to explain why you're here and ..."

"But I already know, Shona." the woman interrupted, "I know everything that you know. I ought to, shouldn't I? After all, I'm you."

Shona nodded slowly.

"Yes, of course you do," she agreed dazedly, "It's just that ... it's odd … looking at you and seeing me."

"Mm, I know. It'll take a bit of getting used to for both of us. And talking of you looking at me, don't you think it would be a good idea to get me some clothes? Not that I mind being naked with you, but the others might think it a bit strange, don't you think?"

Shona hesitated, remembering that she hadn't actually intended to let her clone meet the other "synths" in case they objected to what she had done, or even worse, felt they had to report back to the Company. Her plan had been to use one of the unused storage areas at the far end of the ship as accommodation until she could work out a way of getting her clone back to Earth. Or if she couldn't ... well, she's have to "reallocate" her.

Of course, she didn't want to do that, but if it became necessary to make certain that her unauthorised work remained secret, then she would have to, and try to justify it to herself by concentrating on the fact that the woman was only a "synth" and not fully human.

"Oh. Yes. Yes, of course. I'll go get you something."

Shona hurried away before her feelings of guilt had a chance to show on her face. Behind her, her clone sat up and got off the table, then began a thorough search of the laboratory and if Shona had been able to see the steely glint in her hard, determined eyes, it might have reminded her that her twin was just as intelligent and just as capable of making plans to protect herself as she was. Before it was too late.

Back at her comfortable quarters, Shone collected a selection of clothing and shoes, then returned to the laboratory. Two paces inside the room, she stopped and frowned, seeing that the examination table was empty and that there was no sign of the woman. A sound from behind started her turning around, quickly enough to catch a glimpse of a slim, bare arm reaching towards her, but not quickly enough to avoid the gas-powered syringe that was pressed to her neck.

With a brief "hiss" the contents of the syringe were injected into her body and as the clothes dropped from her suddenly-nerveless hands, Shona crumpled limply to the deck, every muscle in her body instantly paralysed. She could hear and see and feel and think exactly as normal, but was unable to move or speak as a pair of slim, bare legs moved into her field of vision and hands reached down to scoop up the clothes she had dropped.

The legs moved away and as the sounds of a person getting dressed reached her ears, Shona struggled to think what reason her "twin" could possibly have had for drugging her. It didn't make any sense until the woman, fully-clothed now, squatted to smile into her eyes and revealed the appalling horror of what lay in Shona's future.

"We have a little problem," she began, "You see, we both know that two Doctor Shona Kington's is one too many. The Governing Council wouldn't like it and neither would the Company. So, one of them has got to go. Because I'm you, I know what you were planning of course, but I don't think there's any realistic chance of smuggling a highly-illegal cargo like me back to Earth, and I certainly don't like the alternative you came up with. That was pretty cold and heartless, Shona, even if you did feel bad about it. So, I've come up with a better idea. One goes back to Earth at the end of the tour, the other one stays here."

She paused and her tone hardened.

"You're going to be the one that stays, because although I've got all your memories, I've never actually seen Earth and I want to. And, you've done such a great job to make me undetectable from you, that it'll be easy. The only problem was what to do with you. I can't let you run around up here, now can I? One radio call from you and I'd be "reallocated" without a second thought.

"Now, obviously, I could "reallocate" you instead, but luckily for you, you're a pretty nice, gentle person and consequently, so am I, and I just haven't got it in me to terminate anybody, especially not you. Not unless I have to, but then I remembered those magazines you saw in Leon's apartment and it seemed to me that something along those lines would be perfect for keeping you out of the way as well as giving you something to keep you and the rest of the crew occupied while I'm on leave."

Unable to move, unable to scream, unable to even shudder, Shona's brain reeled as she realised that her clone, the new Doctor Shona Kington, planned to replace her and assume her identity and her life, but that was not the worst of it, for when Shona heard what her new life was to be and vivid images she had consciously tried to suppress, came rushing back and flickered in all their shocking, horrifying detail across her mind's eye, her eyes filled with sheer, stark terror.

Leon had been her third lover and she had thought he might be the man for her, until, less than a week after occupying his bed and with both of them half-dazed from a cocktail of drink and soft drugs, he had insisted on showing her what he had called his "wish-list."

Even in her darkest fantasies, Shona had never imagined such things existed and as she had tried to hide her fear and distaste, he had shown her pictures like none she had ever seen: pictures of women bound and chained, gagged and blindfolded. Many had their naked bodies pierced by heavy rings at their breasts, bellies and noses; their limbs forced into painfully-stressed and contorted positions and their bodies penetrated and violated by huge metal and plastic devices, or stretched cruelly open and vulnerable for use by the powerful men who had captured them as slaves.

Leon's obvious relish as he looked at the pictures had terrified Shona, for she knew that he wanted her to agree to to become his and serve him as a chained, ringed slave. When he had eventually fallen asleep, she had fled as fast as she could and never returned in case he tried to kidnap and enslave her. For months, the pictures had haunted her days and dreams, returning again and again to torment her as she fought to banish them and deny the feelings of shameful curiosity and unwanted sexual excitement they'd created in her brain and body.

Until, to her immense relief, the demands of her work slowly pushed the images and the feelings to the furthest recesses of her mind, where she had hoped they would remain forever, but now they were back, even stronger than before.

There was nothing Shona could do as the new version of herself bent down to administer a second injection and whispered.

"Sweet dreams, dear sister. Just think, the next time you wake up, you'll know whether being a real slave is as exciting as you've imagined. What a shame you won't be able to tell me about it, but at least we'll both have the consolation of knowing that you'll finally be able to do something to make life more interesting and enjoyable for our crew."

And as a wave of blackness washed over her, Shona's last sight was of her own face smiling down at her as she began her journey into the unknown.


Doctor Shona Kington carried out a careful check to ensure that her twin was deeply unconscious and would remain so for at least twenty-four hours, then used an anti-gravity force-field to lift her limp body onto the examination table and quickly snapped padded restraints around each of her limbs.

She was confident that it wasn't really necessary, but didn't intend to take even the smallest risk of having her plans ruined by a foolish oversight on her part. Even if by some mischance the soon-to-be-enslaved blonde did wake up, she wouldn't be able to free herself and the soundproof walls would contain her screams or cries for help. With a satisfied smile, she locked the laboratory behind her and made her way to the monitoring-station.

"Hi, Marcus. Mace. Morning, Treya."

The two M-class synthetics, both male and the T-class female nodded respectfully.

"Good morning, Doctor Kington. You seem very happy today."

"I am. Before we begin the day's work, I have some news which I hope you will all like. The Company has agreed to my suggestion that you all deserve a bonus for the excellent hard work you have all put in to this operation over the past years. With the approval of the Governing Council, it has been decided to reward you with a prototype, recreational X-class, pleasure-synth, designed to my specifications."

"I see, Doctor," Marcus was the first to speak, "That is very thoughtful of you, but I do not believe that any of us are aware of such a model. As the designer, could you enlighten us as to its capabilities and purpose?"

"Certainly, Marcus. I have designed the X-class to provide a full range of erotic pleasures for both male and female users. This is based around the concept of involuntary sexual bondage and subjugation. Effectively, the X-class is a sex-slave, whose only purpose is to be used and taken in any manner her owners desire, but with a learning capability which enables those owners to gradually overcome her built-in resistance and teach her what she is."

"You mean, she does not know that she is designed to be a slave and will be required to be taught to accept it?"

"Exactly. She believes that she is a human female, held captive against her wishes and will have to be broken and trained to serve fully."

"And are there any limits to that training?"

"Only those that you choose to set ... if any."

Marcus turned to his two companions and as Shona saw the hot glow of lust and cruelty in their faces, she felt a brief stab of pity for her creator and twin. Informing them that their new slave believed herself to be human had ensured that the real Shona would be shown no mercy, for the three synths had every reason to want revenge for the despair and misery inflicted on their kind and their own permanent exile from the Earth. But for one Shona to be free and safe, the other had to suffer as a slave. And that decision was already made ...


The slave who had once been the real Doctor Shona Kington had been sedated for almost five weeks and during that time, her replacement hadn't wasted a single second. Using the advanced computer technology and extraordinary abilities of the Techno-11's manufacturing processes, the slave's body had been permanently denuded of all hair except for a short ponytail. This was braided into a thick club of hair to form a convenient hand-hold at its base, and its tip had been spliced around a large ring.

A complex chemical treatment then combined each separate hair-strand with its neighbours, preventing further growth and keeping the now-solid ponytail clean and shining. Computer scanning provided the parameters needed to manufacture a thin, completely transparent and air-permeable full-body suit that clothed the slave's nudity, leaving only her head uncovered. The material used was a molecular-based composite with a tensile strength greater than steel, but with the flexibility of rubber, and had the ability to compress to less than half its original size.

By using carefully-applied, computerised instructions, the slave's waist was reduced to 18 inches and the bases of her breasts cinched to a hand-span. Her feet had been arched into a severe "en-pointe" position and the remainder of her body squeezed into exaggerated, flowing curves that emphasised and displayed her buttocks and breasts in a cruel parody of the real, natural figure she had formerly possessed.

Precision-guided lasers then cut undersized access holes at her nipples and clitoris and the resulting pressure of her suit forced the nodules of bare flesh to protrude lewdly. Further holes at her sex and anal ring provided access to her lower entries.

A second session of laser-work gave her twin piercing's in each nipple and at her clitoris, one large and deep-seated at the base of each nodule. The other, smaller and near the tip ones bore a small decorative rings with a small dangling bell, but the lower ones held thick, strong rings suitable for restraint. A third session saw her with a reinforced grommet set into her nasal septum, also complete with large, heavy ring and bell.

With her body-adornments in place, attention was then turned to the restraints which would ensure her complete and permanent helplessness.

For its visual and psychological effect, surgical stainless steel was used and she was fitted with a five-inch tall collar; immobilising her head and neck in a rigidly-enforced chin-up posture. Three-inch wide bands at her wrists, elbows, knees and ankles clamped her limbs, then a six-inch wide belt encircled her compressed waist. All were were locked on by laser-welding and so became totally irremovable and to ensure that their wearer was easily controlled, each piece was equipped with flip-out securing rings.

Then, her mouth was prepared for service. A computer-scanned image was used to produce a perfect replica that fitted snugly over her teeth and when it had been bonded in place, her mouth was made into a smooth channel leading directly to her throat; keeping her lips stretched into a wide, inviting "O" that deprived her of coherent speech. It gave her no possibility of refusing anything forced into the cavity, while still leaving her tongue free to provide oral pleasuring for her new owners.

Two large and thick steel dildos filled with electronic circuitry and connected by a shaped bar were inserted into her anus and sex, their careful design ensuring that they could not be ejected by even her most powerful muscle contractions. Nevertheless they could still easily be removed by any user who wished to avail him or herself of her dilated twin openings, or for waste evacuation.

With a micro-transmitter embedded beneath her left ear, its small size bearing no relation to the power it contained to subjugate and control her, she was linked directly to the Techno-11's main computer. A simple verbal command uttered anywhere on the ship was all that was required to trigger the disciplinary and training functions of the shafts buried deep in her belly and inflict either intense sexual arousal or equally intense pain upon her.

The fitting of an opaque scarlet hood made of the same material as her body-suit came next, and as it tightened to encase her head and leave only her mouth, nose and ponytail exposed, her irrevocable transformation from respected scientist to anonymous sex-slave, reached its final stage.

Unknown to the unconscious slave, force-fields seized her body, forced her arms behind her back and together until her wrists and elbows met. Unpickable electronic locks snapped shut, then her legs were bent double, individually, then, each elbow went to an ankle and wrist to knee and were connected with more electronic locks to leave her spine deeply hollowed in an extremely severe hogtie that nevertheless still allowed her thighs to be spread wide for access to her sex and anus.

The last thing to be done to her came when her ponytail was pulled backwards and its ring attached to the rear of her waist belt to arch her throat and head. Her bondage and helplessness was absolute, with all three orifices fully available.

The new Shona Kington inspected the heavily-chained and cruelly-hogtied slave who lay on the table before her, then shrugged and thrust the syringe against her buttocks, emptying the stimulant into her veins. Ten seconds later, the slave quivered as her long sleep ended.

"Welcome back, slave." Shona whispered and the slave's nostrils flared as she sucked in air to scream, becoming aware of the extreme compression and strain on every part of her body.

Her increasingly frantic protests and then screams emerged only as low, soft groans and whimpers as her gag demonstrated its ruthless efficiency and despite the desperate tensing of her muscles and clawing of her fingers, she could achieve nothing more than a barely-discernible rocking movement. It was obvious that escape was impossible and that there was nothing the slave could do to prevent her body from being explored and violated by anyone who chose to take advantage of her defencelessness.

Shona reached down and as she stroked the slave's cheek through her hood.

"I am sorry,my sister," she murmured, "but from the moment you created me, I had no other choice. And now, neither do you."

Moving to the control panel, she summoned an anti-gravity transport float and slid the hogtied captive onto it, then entered its destination code and stood watching calmly as the slave was dispatched on her journey into total and inescapable sexual servitude


"The shuttle-craft has docked, Doctor Kington."

"Thank you, Treya. Please tell the pilot that I'm on my way."

"Certainly, Doctor. Have a wonderful leave and we'll see you again in six months."

"I'm sure I shall, Treya. Say goodbye to Marcus and Mace for me, will you?"

"Of course, Doctor. They are both in the recreation area."

"Yes. The X-class seems to be a popular addition to our crew."

"Indeed it is, Doctor and we are all most grateful to you. In fact, I shall also be joining them when the shuttle is safely on its way."

"Then enjoy yourself, my dear and I shall see you in six months."

The T-class synth watched on the monitor as the shuttle set off on its descent towards Earth, then headed for the recreation area, her eyes gleaming with pleasurable anticipation. The training of the X-class pleasure-synth ... the slave ... had gone well, during the preceding three months, but Treya suspected that there were still unplumbed depths of torment and subjugation to be explored. Even higher levels of total and utter submission would soon be wrung from the body of the helpless captive.

Marcus and Mace, of course, being male, were content to use the slave mainly for their sexual gratification and although they often disciplined and punished her before, after and even during her enforced service. They had no great interest in deepening and extending their control over her beyond what was necessary for their own pleasure, unlike Treya, who had discovered in herself an insatiable desire to find out just how far the slave could be pushed, and whether there were any limits to how much pain and pleasure she could endure.

Since awakening to find herself enslaved, Shona's life had become a nightmare from which she couldn't wake up. Delivered on the transport float as a gagged, chained sex-toy, she had immediately become the helpless and unwilling victim of her former crew; the defenseless subject of their resentment and desire for revenge against the humans who had persecuted their kind and condemned them to a lifetime of imprisonment aboard the Techno-11.

Unrecognisable beneath her hood and incapable of explaining who she really was, Shona sobbed and wept as uncaring fingers and lips explored every curve and hollow of her painfully-arched body. Then she whimpered in dreadful anguish as the steel dildos in her anus and sex were pulled from her and powerful hands wrenched her thighs apart.

Her fingers clawed as a long, rigid, fleshy shaft thrust irresistibly into the depths of her tender sex, but she could do nothing to prevent her attacker from pillaging her belly with brutal lunges and as she screamed in despairing horror, hands seized her ponytail and a second massive shaft forced its way into her gaping mouth and deep into her throat!

Thankfully, the gagging-device bonded into her mouth suppressed her natural retch-reflex, but even that was small comfort, as it meant that she could be used with absolutely no care or consideration for her well-being! As her nostrils flared to suck in the air she needed, her two male captors ravaged her without mercy, venting years of pent-up frustration and anger on her defenseless body.

Incapable of resisting her double violation, torrents of tears of shame and terror soaked her hood as her body was forced to respond. Although she fought to the limits of her physical and mental resources not to give in to the overwhelming sexual subjugation imposed upon her, the odds against her were simply too great.

Slowly and inexorably, her will-power crumbled under the relentless assaults, until as her brain abandoned its futile struggle to retain even minimal control over the savage heat that permeated every fibre of her tormented body, she was forced to surrender utterly to the fate she had brought on herself and which she feared she couldn't escape.

Huge, devastating climaxes ripped through her quaking body as she submitted to her Masters; her belly convulsing madly and throat working as jets of hot, salty seed marked her irrevocable subjugation. As Shona writhed in her chains to the destructive fury of her first orgasms as a full slave, it was only then that the true horror of her appalling plight became terrifyingly clear to her.

Without a break to recover, her Masters quickly swapped positions and as their shafts drove into her belly and throat with undiminished power, the terrified slave remembered that synth workers were genetically modified to increase their physical strength and endurance to levels far beyond the capability of humans and could function on less than two hours sleep per day!

The modifications were designed to boost working productivity, but as she realised that those same modifications also meant that their sexual stamina and prowess were greatly enhanced, Shona shuddered in dreadful anguish at the prospect of being the helpless slave of such tireless, near-insatiable Masters.

In the hours that followed, Shona learned that her fears were fully justified, for her mouth, sex and anus were each used again and again by her Masters. Her gag-stifled, incoherent pleas for mercy served only to goad her captors into even greater efforts, until her exhausted, sweat-stained body could give nothing more. She slumped in her bonds, trembling and moaning, with glistening rivulets of their juices oozing from all three orifices.

Marcus stared down at her and sneered.

"Doctor Kington has done an excellent job with this X-Class slave-slut. She responds almost as if she really is human and we will have a wonderful time breaking her into an obedient slave. Next time, I think we should whip her."

"I agree," Mace replied, "And I shall imagine that she is a human female when we do."

"Yes. It will be a sweet revenge to hear her scream like a human."

"And I have some ideas for those rings."

As Shona heard the words and the cruel anticipation in the voices, she felt an icy chill of horror. The synths didn't know she was a real human and thought she was one of them, but only an X-Class slave-slut. She'd never heard of such a class of synth, but it was terrifyingly plain what its function; her function ... was. As the almost-inconceivable reality of what was to become of her crashed into her brain, Shona knew that what she had already endured was only a tiny fraction of what lay in her future.

Stunned by her dreadful fate, she heard the synths walk away, but she was too frightened to feel relief at what she knew would be only a temporary respite. They had taken and used her without remorse or pity as a total slave and when they returned, she was going to be whipped!

Or so Shona thought, unaware that eyes other than those of the two male synths had witnessed and enjoyed her enforced servitude. For several hours, Treya had noted and stored away every detail of Shona's involuntary responses to the torments inflicted upon her and when the two males had finally sated their immediate needs and decided to take a break, the female synth began to put her own plans into action.

Thinking that she was alone, Shona had no inkling that her dreadful plight was about to become far worse ... until the massive steel dildos were thrust back into the cruelly-used cavities of her sex and anus and switched on.

Horrifyingly-powerful vibrations shot through her belly, shattering her feeble defences as unwanted, but totally irresistible waves of over-whelming sexual arousal swamped her mind and body, to set her shuddering and whimpering as she was forced to respond against her will.

Driven into an inferno of desperate need and lust, she shrieked in anguish as sharp jolts of electricity speared into the delicate, excruciatingly-sensitive tissues of her most intimate recesses, the , stabbing pain setting her mind reeling in terror even as her sexual passion spiralled instantly upwards in helpless submission to the added stimulus. Any form of resistance was utterly impossible and as a gigantic orgasm exploded over her and a boiling flood of juices raged through her convulsing belly, Shona screamed in dreadful ecstasy, knowing that she would never again control her own body or fate.

From above her arched, immobilised head, she heard a soft, feminine chuckle and recognised the voice of Treya.

"Now it's my turn, slave. I know you're programmed to pleasure Mistresses as well as Masters, so you're going to use your tongue on me and I expect to be fully satisfied. Begin, slave!"

A cruel jolt of electricity reinforced the command and as Shona understood that she had no choice and would never have one again, great, hot tears of despair and misery and humiliation soaked the inside of her hood. She stuck her tongue out through the gagging-device holding her mouth wide and for the very first time in her life, began to lick and suck at the moist softness of another woman's sex.

Chained as a slave, hopelessly vulnerable and subject to whatever pain or pleasure her Mistress cared to impose, Shona struggled to please the dominant female synth, her whole being focussed on the single imperative of absolute obedience.

She must satisfy Treya, no matter what the cost in shame or anguish to herself, and as the sheer, stark simplicity of her awful plight burned itself into her brain, Shona was forced to confront and accept the inescapable reality she had brought on herself.

In her pride, arrogance and certainty in her scientific background and expertise, she had truly believed that she knew better than the Governing Council of Earth and that she, and she alone was above the law. Not for her the petty rules that restricted lesser researchers. She had wanted to develop her project and control its outcome without unwanted and unnecessary interference from those who didn't and couldn't understand that she was far beyond their small-minded regulations, and she had succeeded.

She had created a perfect clone of herself and in the process, condemned herself to endless torment as the slave of her own crew of synths. Her clone, the new Doctor Shona Kington, had replaced her and was free to roam the Earth and enjoy all the benefits available to a wealthy and well-respected female scientist on extended leave.

With her tongue working feverishly to bring her synth Mistress to climax in order to avoid the horridly punishing electric shocks that would be the penalty of failure, Shona trembled wildly at the thought of the six months that stretched before her like an eternity until her clone would return from Earth. And then it hit her with the force of an avalanche and she screamed and screamed in futile denial until repeated electric shocks overcame her terrified disobedience. Once more she was forced to submit and resume her service as a full slave.

Her clone was not only a perfect physical copy of herself, but was also her mental duplicate and equal, knowing everything that she knew and perfectly capable of handling her duties as Chief Science Officer of the Techno-11. There would be no need for Shona to ever be released from her slavery and bondage. Her clone was her ... in every respect.

Treya's sex began to quiver and pulse against her mouth as the synth reached her first orgasm and the heavily-chained, pierced and ringed captive who had once been Doctor Shona Kington, but was now only an X-class pleasure-slave, wept and sobbed in hopeless recognition of her unavoidable fate.

She was doomed to remain trapped aboard the ship as the bound, utterly subjugated sex-toy and slave of her synth Masters and Mistress, serving them and being punished by them in every conceivable way.

For the rest of her life ...

- HOME -