{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"854f2064-18b3-47c9-8c63-3d57ba4840b0","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2024-10-22T16:28:30.242Z","title":"Making Your Own Luck","slug":"making-your-own-luck","shortId":"4z5yQC4m","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"A penal slave is sent to the local disciplinarian for punishment, but things aren't quite what they seem.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"71009695-94d3-45dd-bde7-6c0ac23ad5d7","title":null,"summary":"The coarse gravel road from the farm to the doctor’s house wasn't too kind on bare feet, so she deci","wordCount":2697,"readTime":13,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

The coarse gravel road from the farm to the doctor’s house wasn't too kind on bare feet, so she decided to take a shortcut over the fence, looking out for cow patties as she quickly crossed the pasture. When McPherson’s bull was around, timing was essential, but she hadn't seen him anywhere – neither the bull nor its grumpy, eighty-year-old owner.

The doc's house, a neat, two-story colonial building with a large garden, was located at the south end of town, just a few walking minutes from the sleepy marketplace. He lived on the first floor, on top of his office, so it was reasonable to assume that she would find him there, even after hours on a Saturday afternoon.

Before turning around the corner into his street, she took a moment to arrange her long black hair and used a bit of spit and the hem of her dress to polish the wide steel collar around her neck. “Property of Kenney Agriculture,” read the engraving on that collar, along with a slave registration number, and it had been welded shut right after a conviction for embezzlement and fraud. It was that conviction that had brought her here to Nadama, an agricultural planet on the Rim, far away from anything that resembled civilization.

\"Wow,\" she said and twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. “You really got it figured out. The roses are beautiful.”

His face lit up and he turned towards her. \"It’s a rare Trivaran crossbreed, I got it from Flanagan for-” He interrupted himself and shoved the garden shears in his pocket. “You're not here to talk about my roses. Is everything alright? I would have come by on Monday to check on you.”

She stretched her arm, injured last week when she slipped in the stables. \"No, no, that’s fully healed. But I, err, I’m afraid I need a dozen.\"

\"Again?” He sighed. “What did you do now?\"

\"Nothing much, I swear! Kept my head down, did as I was told, stayed out of trouble. Most of the time, anyway.\"

He shook his head and didn't seem convinced. “Uh-huh. And yet you’re the only one who keeps being sent here. What happened?”

\"I made fun of his shed.\"

\"Kenney's shed? Is that some kind of ... sexual metaphor? Because I don't get it.\"

She looked at him and laughed. \"No, no. An actual shed. For tools. In the backyard. The wife called it an eyesore and wants it gone, but I guess the next storm will take care of it. He built it himself last week.\"

“Didn’t know him to be a handyman. When he helped build the community center last year we almost needed a medevac.”

“So? He isn’t a good fuck either, but that doesn’t stop him from sticking it in me every chance he gets. And let me tell you, I understand why the wife fucks the slaves.”

“I really didn’t need to hear any of that.”

“It’s better than mucking out stables, and I can’t blame him, really.” She lifted her dress, showing off her bare pussy with the registration number tattooed above her pubic mound. “What red-blooded guy wouldn’t want a piece of that, right? Doesn’t even matter that I smell like cow shit.”

The doc’s ancient next-door neighbor, Mrs. Finney, craned her neck and looked over from her back porch. That nosy old hag, she thought and quickly let go of her dress to cover her crotch.

He scratched his head. “And that has to happen right now?”

She nodded. “Afraid so, even if it means that I have to go to O’Leary’s. You remember how my ass looked the last time that guy worked me over?”

“Yes, I remember. Filed a report with the Sheriff, too. I should probably follow up on that or nothing’s gonna happen.”

There were only two government-licensed disciplinarians in town – the only people allowed to physically punish slaves – and O’Leary’s excesses had been the reason why he had reluctantly decided to offer that service.

“So, you’re gonna help me out?” She licked her lips seductively. “I’d make it worth your while, handsome.”

“Fine,” he said and sighed. “Get yourself ready, I’ll go wash up.”

“You’re the best,” she said and extended her hand with a couple of coins. “Don’t spend it all on booze and hookers.”

He grinned. “Three credits will just about buy me a beer. Throw it in the box, I’ll be there in a minute.”

She knew the way from numerous sessions in the past, and walking around the house she noticed Tanya’s bicycle leaning against the wall. Technically, it belonged to her brother, Benji, but Tanya was the one who used it most of the time. Tanya, you little slut, she thought. You’ll probably cook him dinner, and then there’s gonna be a very invasive physical. She imagined him pounding her from behind, making her large, heavy breasts swing, but tried her best to put that picture out of her mind.

The old coffee box on the window sill had a bit of money in it. Maybe thirty credits? Definitely not fifty. Three credits were worth more to her than they were to him, and he probably never counted it, so she put the money back in the small front pocket of her dress.

“Hey,” she heard him shout from inside, “did you see my cane somewhere?”

“It’s here in the corner,” she shouted back. “But there’s no disinfectant.”

She was wearing her one good dress for the occasion, so she took it off, carefully folded it, and draped it over the back of one of the chairs standing on the patio.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach she looked at the spanking bench in the corner. A simple piece of furniture, with a low, padded platform to kneel on and a higher one for the delinquent’s upper body. At first he had fastened the straps rather loosely, but she had wiggled around so much that he had hit the same spot multiple times, breaking the skin. She closed the wide leather straps around ankles and thighs as tightly as possible and also put the belt around her waist for extra safety.

When he joined her on the patio, she reached around and spread her butt cheeks with her hands. “Sexy ass, huh? If you see something you like, help yourself. I haven’t been properly fucked since lunch.”

It was an attempt at a joke, and she didn’t expect him to take her up on that offer – having sex with a slave without the owner’s consent wasn’t permitted.

“Tempting, but you know I can’t do that,” he said, fastening her wrists using the remaining straps. “Let’s get this over with. Ready?”

“No, but let’s start anyway.”

Back in school, she had become acquainted with a variety of punishment implements, and neither the strap nor the paddle had been particularly pleasant, but as far as pain was concerned, the thin regulation cane was in a league of its own. He took a couple of practice swings before finally bringing it down firmly on her butt.

She inhaled sharply. “Ouch. Gods!”

He didn’t hit as hard as O’Leary did – far from it. The pain was intense nonetheless, and a wave of pain spread from where the instrument had made contact, raising the red welts on her buttocks that the regulations required.

As usual, the second followed quickly after, as did the third.

“Wait, wait, wait.”

Compared to their first session a couple of years ago, his aim had become much better, spacing out the impacts and never hitting the same spot twice. He gave her a few seconds to regain her composure before bringing down the cane again.

She groaned. “Fuck! Can’t I just suck your dick and we call it a day?”

“Kenney’s gonna count your welts. He’ll send you right back.”

“I know, I know.” She clenched her fists. “This shit reminds me of school. Ms. Eriksson, that stupid old cunt?”

“Seventh grade, I remember. Maybe you should have done your homework once in a while instead of just copying mine.”

The fifth stroke was as precise and hard as the previous ones. She took short, shallow breaths as the pain radiated from the zone of impact and tapped the sides of the bench with her tied-up hands.

“Wanna take a break?” he asked.

She grimaced and pondered for a moment. “Let’s continue. We both know I deserve it.”

“For a joke about a shed? That seems completely overblown to me.”

“No, I deserve it for derailing our life. You had a career, you didn't have to come along when they shipped me off to the colonies. And now we're stuck at the end of the world just because of my bullshit.”

“Oh, babe,” he said, gently stroking her hair. “And leave you alone out here on the Rim? I don't think so. To be honest, I'm a lot less stressed than back home. I don’t think I ever wanna go back to working in a hospital.”

“Well, you've got fourteen more months to enjoy it, and then we're outta here. I want city lights and concrete under my feet. Proper food, movie dates, and spectacular sex. And I never wanna see a goddamn cow again in my life.”

He chuckled and took aim, delivering the next couple of strokes in quick succession. She howled in pain and tugged at the straps that held her wrists. Sitting would be hell the next couple of days – not that she would get a lot of opportunity. Like always, Kenney and his wife would keep her busy.

“Gods! How much longer? That was number eight or nine?”

“Seven.”

“Shit.” She sighed and wiggled her butt as far as the straps permitted. “Hey, could you untie me? I really need to pee.”

He shrugged. “I’m sorry, you know that bathroom breaks are not allowed. But if it’s really urgent, go ahead. I’ll clean it up later.”

“It’s fine, I’ll hold it.”

Number eight wasn’t quite as hard, but still acceptable. She winced and strained against her bonds that held her fast to the bench.

“Do you really have to pee?” he asked, but she just shook her head and stuck out her tongue.

“Some guys would love this,” she mused. “Giving their wife a proper thrashing. Especially if it’s a screw up like me.”

He sighed and inspected his handiwork on her ass. “This is the exact opposite of what a doctor should be doing. The moment you’re released, this cane goes in the trash, and I’m ripping up my license.”

“Our life didn’t exactly go as planned, and it's all my fault.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Hey, do you regret marrying me?”

“Babe, I’ve known you since fifth grade, I knew what I was getting into. I love you with all my heart, and I don’t regret a thing.”

“Gods, I so wanna suck your dick right now.”

He laughed. “I’m sorry, that’s-”

“... against the law, I know. When this is over, you’re gonna get four years worth of blowjobs in a month, I promise. But let’s continue. Number nine, come on. I need this to be over.”

Once again, the cane sliced through the air and made contact, this time half a centimeter above the group of perfectly parallel welts that adorned her buttocks. She squeezed her eyes shut, but managed to stay quiet this time.

“Besides,” he said, “your dad warned me. He said, sooner or later you’d end up in a collar, like Aunt Ruth.”

Her maternal aunt, Ruth, was currently in the second half of a twenty-year stretch for an investment fraud scheme that had made planetary news. Her case had been a frequent topic at family dinner, and despite long, extensive investigations, only a small part of the embezzled money had been recovered.

“He did, huh. I’m gonna walk the straight and narrow from now on, just you watch. There won’t be a lot of opportunities to get myself in trouble anyway. Nobody’s gonna hire an ex con as their accountant.”

“Did you think about what you wanna do next?” he asked, quickly delivering the tenth stroke.

She waited a moment for the pain to subside. “With my record, I’m lucky if I find a job waiting tables. Maybe I’ll try prostitution. Guys who want to fuck don’t do a background check, and the girls at the farm say it pays well.”

He scoffed. “Prostitution, right. You have a degree in business administration.”

“That’s worthless now. Get used to the fact that you’ve got a slave-trained wife, doc, I spread my legs for anyone. We might as well put my holes to good use while I’m still young and hot.”

“Please don’t talk like that,” he said, scratching his head. “Half the people out here on the Rim are running from one thing or another. We’ll find a place where we can start fresh, okay?”

“Fine. But I definitely won’t stay at home, cooking and cleaning, while you earn the money. I’m not some stupid little housewife, I want to contribute, and if that means whoring myself out, so be it. Next one, please.”

Stroke number eleven landed hard in the sensitive spot between her buttocks and the top of her legs. She groaned and violently pulled at the leather straps holding her in place, hard enough to move the heavy bench a few centimeters.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Come on,” she shouted and winced. “Got it, no whoring! Fuck!”

He grimaced and rubbed his temples. “Sorry, babe. Let’s not mention prostitution again, okay? We’ll find something else for you to do. Maybe we can use our savings to start some small business.”

“Perhaps in one of the larger colonies? It doesn’t have to be Helios Prime, but I want a little bit of city life once in a while. You can be a country doctor there. Rose garden and everything.”

“We’ll find a place.”

The last stroke landed further up, and with a lot less force, barely leaving a trace. He quickly sprayed a disinfectant on her swelling buttocks before untying the straps and helping her off the bench.

“All done,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Thank God.”

She gave him a long hug, pressing her naked breasts against him. “Thanks for doing this, I really appreciate it. And have fun with Tanya, okay? Nobody deserves it more than you.”

“Tanya?”

“I know she’s here, I’ve seen her bike. It’s fine, someone’s got to keep your bed warm while I’m away. I told you I don’t mind.”

He grinned. “Babe, that’s Benji’s bike. He’s inside, repairing my dishwasher. Or trying to, he’s been at it all afternoon. Wanna go and say hi?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She bit her lip and blushed a little. “Right, Tanya’s really not your type. But, the offer stands. I still have fourteen months, and there’s plenty of girls in town who would love to play doctor with you. But the very moment this collar is off, we’re gonna lock ourselves in the bedroom, and you better get yourself some pills because I expect you to fuck my brains out. Clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“As long as I can still walk, you’re not done.”

He laughed. “Understood. Now go before Kenney sends a search party, and stay out of trouble.”

“By the way,” she said, picking up her dress. “You should probably put me back on that bench for a few extra. I stole your three credits.”

“It’s okay, I expected nothing less.” He gave her a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t let them catch you with money, or you'll be back here before you know it.”

“I’ll be extra careful.” She quickly put her dress back on and winced when the fabric touched her caned butt. “Kenney Agriculture thanks you for your service, Doc. It was excellent work, and we will no doubt send more business your way.”

He chose to ignore that comment and looked over to the table. “Curious. Someone must have forgotten to pick up their painkillers. I’d give you a few if it wasn’t against the rules.”

She gave him a soft parting kiss and watched as he walked back into the house, then she took the couple of pills he had laid out for her. After a quick look around, she swallowed one and put the other into the front pocket of her dress.

The checkup of her arm on Monday was something to look forward to, and in a few weeks there would surely be another opportunity to come back here and see him. Like Aunt Ruth always said, when things aren’t going your way, you’ve got to make your own luck.

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