Life as a concubine slowly turned into hell after they had reached their new home, the naval base on Gangriel. Amanda was happy being her master Paul’s sex toy. Lucie was a magician with food. All three were enjoying her talents regularly. Paul had changed both of his concubines into nineteen-year-old top models and they were more than just thankful. It didn’t matter to them that they were now his property. He was a good master. Lucie’s twelve-year-old daughter Rebecca also accepted the situation. First she was a little shy, but she was intelligent enough to see a few benefits, at least as long as she was a child.

When they arrived at Gangriel, things slowly changed. Paul smiled more and more rarely. One week after they had arrived, Paul returned from work and called for his concubines. His face was an unreadable mask. “Ladies, from now on, you will never again leave this pod.”

“But Master, Lucie is pregnant,” Amanda invented. “She’ll need medical care in a few months. As will I when you impregnate me.”

“The AI will build a med tube in the rear office,” Paul answered.

<It is an unusual request to equip a pod with a med tube, > the AI mentioned.

“Do as I ordered!” Paul shouted, spitting some foam. His face turned red with his anger. Lucie and Amanda were scared. They quickly knelt down and lowered their heads. This was not the Paul they knew from their trip to the colony.

Paul turned around and went to his office. The entire pod was deadly silent when the door closed behind him.

One week earlier, Paul had started his new job as operator at the space surveillance tower. His job was to lead incoming ships to a free docking station at the shipyard where they could get repairs and a refill. Since Gangriel was a frontline colony, supporting the fleet was one of their main jobs. Eleven enlisted and two officers were on duty each shift. Paul got the easy tasks at first, directing the undamaged ships, to get used to the job. However, he learned very quickly that the job involved unexpected dangers.

On his second day, a fleet of six ships arrived, half of them damaged by heavy attacks of Sa’arm ships. Paul’s colleagues did a good job by leading them to the shipyard, but Corporal Red, an experienced man, missed that a small piece of his incoming ship’s hull had broken loose. The piece caused some minor damage at the docks. However, what came next really disturbed Paul.

Three master sergeants and a lieutenant appeared, wearing black leather uniforms with a red belt. They started shouting at Corporal Red like drill instructors at a boot camp back in the USA. Paul quickly took over Red’s station, since his station was the next one to the right of Red’s. He finished leading the damaged ship into the dock without any further trouble. Paul didn’t realize that all the older members of his team were stricken with fear. Paul tried to ignore the fuss to his left and concentrated on his job. When he was finished and the ship was secured in the dock, he noticed that the drill instructors were leading Corporal Red out of the control tower.

At the end of the shift, Paul asked Lieutenant Wagner, one of his leading officers, “What is happening to Corporal Red, sir?”

“He’s receiving a drill. People who make a mistake are drilled by the Bloodhounds,” Lieutenant Wagner answered. He carefully looked around, and then he continued, “Red will return in a few days. Maybe tomorrow if he’s willing to give up one of his concubines. The Bloodhound Company is always short of concubines and they let people off the hook for the price of one of them. Listen boy, don’t ask too many questions. The walls have ears and you won’t want to be interviewed for whatever. Just try to keep a low profile and do your job. Okay?” Paul remembered from his introduction the previous day that the Lieutenant, who was looking like a twenty year old, was really an honored, sixty-year-old Canadian Mountie. Now this man was looking like a frightened dog, fearing the next kick from his owner.

Paul saluted. “Yes sir, thank you, sir!” Slowly, Paul went home.

Two days later, Corporal Red was still missing. Paul was ordered to take over his station. The good job he had done two days earlier earned him a promotion. Paul was now a Lance Corporal.

Another two days later, a very pale Corporal Red returned to work. Without a word, Lieutenant Wagner hugged the man, and then ordered him to take station three. Paul remembered that that was a reserve station for newbies. Looking at Red, Paul suddenly understood.

In his hourly break, he talked to the AI sub-vocally while getting a glass of water from the replicator “AI, privacy mode. I need to know a few things. First of all, can anybody listen to this conversation?”

<Since you ordered privacy mode, no-one will ever know about this conversation, > the AI answered.

Paul mentally sighed. “I want to know what happened to Corporal Red in the past four days.”

<Corporal Ryan Red was brought to the training ground where he got a drill for twenty-four hours. Then he was brought to the med bay for recovery. The past two days he spent at his pod, > the AI answered.

“What exactly is a drill?” Paul asked. The AI explained it to him. He nearly missed the end of his break and for the next hour he wasn’t really aware of the world around him. He was just staring at the screen. Fortunately, there was no ship coming in, nor was one leaving.

The AI reminded Paul to take his next break an hour later. Somehow, standing up and walking to the replicator cleared his mind a little. He just had to ask the AI, “Did Red pay to be released from the drill?”

Without hesitation, the AI answered, <Corporal Ryan Red transferred his concubine Nelly to Master Sergeant Xavier Dwaine shortly before he was allowed to leave the training ground.>

Luckily, the rest of the shift was nearly as quiet and Paul managed to do his job properly. On his way home, Paul noticed a washed-out red spot at the wall of a corridor. It was an unusual sight since nanites were doing a nearly perfect job in cleaning all the corridors, pods and other facilities. “AI, what is that,” Paul asked sub-vocally.

<This is a spot of blood. It will be cleaned within five minutes, > the AI replied.

“What happened here?” Paul asked. He couldn’t get rid of the images of a drill that his earlier talk to the AI had given to his imagination.

<A concubine has been caught alone outside a pod. Sergeant Major Arnold Biggs found her and taught her a lesson. Although it is not forbidden for concubines to leave a pod when her sponsor grants her permission to do so, it is mostly used as punishment to send them out. The Bloodhounds are scanning the corridors and teach lessons to sole concubines. In this case, Sergeant Major Arnold Biggs broke her nose and her left arm. Then he sodomized her.>

That was the day he ordered his concubines to never again leave his pod.

In the following two weeks, Paul learned a lot about the colony’s pecking order. There were no clear rules. Instead, the members of the Bloodhound Company enforced their will. They didn’t interfere much with the colony’s business to serve the Confederacy fleet, until somebody failed. They punished people for wrinkling their nose when they were in a bad mood. Their primary tools were most painful and humiliating drills, raping another sponsor’s concubines or shorting the power supply to a pod. They were generally bullying people when somebody crossed their way by accident but they were not very creative. The power behind the Bloodhound Company was Governor McGregor, a man Paul had never met.

Sometimes, the AI warned Paul to take another corridor when a Bloodhound patrol was patrolling. In other cases, the AI was acting as if it didn’t understand that there was something wrong with the colony. It revealed the cruelest details to Paul when he asked what was going on as if it was the most normal thing of the world.

One evening, when Paul returned from work, he ordered Amanda to the master bedroom. His face was once again a mask that Amanda couldn’t read. She hurried to follow his orders. “Clean your bowels in the bath room,” he ordered.

Amanda knew of Paul’s fetishes. He liked large insertions and fisting. Fortunately, he had ordered augmentations that allowed Amanda to take everything Paul had shoved into her until now without feeling much pain. Amanda cleaned her inside with two enemas and then lubed herself with half a bottle of baby oil. When she returned to the master bedroom, Paul made her kneel on the bed, ass high, breasts squeezed into the mattress.

Paul approached her ass and positioned his cock head at her anus. Paul had also taken an augmentation. His cock now measured eleven inches. Without much resistance, Paul’s cock entered Amanda’s well-lubed backdoor. Only the last two inches caused her a little pain, but it was bearable. Paul did take less care about her than usual. However, Amanda was able to find pleasure in the forceful violation of her ass. After a while she started to moan into the cushions.

Paul stopped and withdrew his cock. Amanda looked back to see what was happening. She knew Paul hadn’t come yet. Paul’s face was still a mask. Slowly it dawned to Amanda that there was something really unpleasant approaching. Paul inserted four fingers in her pussy and spread her lips wide. Then he clenched his right fist and rammed it in. Amanda cried from the pain. She couldn’t hold back some tears. For ten minutes she suffered from a merciless fisting that made her beg him to end the torture.

“We haven’t even started,” Paul replied. Then he stretched his middle finger and poked her cervix with it.

Amanda realized what was to come and howled, “No, please have mercy. You can’t do that!”

Paul ignored her. With great force he pushed forward, inserting his finger in Amanda’s womb. Amanda shrieked at the top of her lungs. She tried to crawl away but Paul grabbed her hair and dragged her back. The next few strokes were as painful as the first one, and then Paul added another finger. After five minutes, Paul had managed to insert his whole hand into Amanda’s womb. Blood was trickling out of her pussy. Amanda was conscious but her mind had shut down. Her eyes were wide open but her body was limp. It was no longer attached to her. After another two minutes, Amanda passed out.

Amanda woke up in the med tube. All pain had gone. All agony was just a memory. She slowly climbed out of the tube and turned toward the door. There stood Paul. Amanda shrieked in horror and fled to the farthest corner of the room, crumbling into a heap of sobs and pleas.

“AI, did you record this?” Paul asked.

<Confirmed.>

“Then keep it and use it in the manner expressly agreed.”

<Confirmed.>

Slowly, Paul approached Amanda, his facial expression softening. Carefully he embraced the horrified woman and sobbed, “I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry.”

Another week later, when Paul’s shift had just ended, the AI informed him, <Lance Corporal Peterson, you asked to be informed when a job other than space surveillance or flight control becomes available. Currently there is a job available at the engineering and colony development department. Sergeant Jessica Bartovsky who held the job until today committed suicide.>

Paul quickly went home. His concubines were awaiting him at the entrance kneeling, head lowered and naked. He hadn’t ordered this but after what he had done the week before, they lost all their remaining spirit. Since then, Paul hadn’t touched either of them.

Paul went to his office and took a sleep trainer session for engineers. Before midnight he volunteered for the new job.

The new job as an engineer had its own benefits. Paul was nearly independent. He had to prepare the space for new pods and keep an eye on the life support systems of the geosphere where all the colonists were living. However, since the geosphere was finished, there was nothing much to do. All systems were controlled by the AI and there was no need for new pods. The colony wasn’t growing. Newcomers were replacing dead soldiers and that was it. Even upgrading the pods to newer models with an independent power source and a small AI was not on the agenda. The governor had explicitly vetoed this when the pods became available two years ago.

Instead, one of Paul’s duties was to temporarily disconnect pods from the main power plant on direct order from the Governor’s office. So he quickly got an overview of who was on the Bloodhounds’ watch list. Paul did his job without arguing and somehow that caught the benevolent attention of the governor’s right hand and Bloodhound leader, Major Smith. Paul was invited to several after work parties of the Bloodhounds. Most of these parties were just sprees with lots of alcohol and a couple of concubines that were passed around for humiliation games and fucking.

Paul held back with the alcohol but participated in the fucking of the concubines. Without the slightest sign of sympathy he used them as they crossed his path.

Several weeks later, he was invited to an initiation party on Saturday night. A new Bloodhound had to prove that he was ruthless enough for the job. Paul learned from the AI that on those parties, the newbie had to kill a concubine of another soldier who was being punished for something.

The newbie was a blonde guy who played the tough guy all the time, until it came to the main event of the evening. Major Smith stood and spoke up, “Quiet please, gentlemen. We have a new member here, Corporal Dan Spencer. He volunteered for the position as a security officer of the colony.” Several of the Bloodhounds couldn’t suppress laughter.

“Quiet please! In the past weeks, the corporal has been introduced to the different aspects of the job and he seems to fit into our little group. So today is the day where he can prove that he is indeed the right stuff.” The Major signaled to someone at the door to bring in the concubine. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and a blindfold was blocking her sight. She wasn’t wearing a shift or anything else. Her body was covered with bruises and bite marks. Sperm was leaking out of her swollen pussy.

“This is the last concubine of Sergeant Mark Linden who miserably failed a few days ago. It is part of his punishment that his concubine is to be recycled since he cares too much for her. Corporal, it is your duty and your initiation task to kill her for our entertainment.”

The concubine cried out loud, but was quickly silenced with a gag ball. The corporal visibly turned pale. Obviously he hadn’t realized until now what the Bloodhounds really were. He started to argue with the Major, whose mood immediately dropped.

After a while, Major Smith raised a hand again to get the audience’s attention. “It seems that we made a mistake when we invited the former Corporal Spencer to join the Bloodhounds. Some people have limits that they can never overcome.” A series of boos and whistles interrupted his speech. The major reached for the insignias of the Corporal’s uniform and ripped them off. “Dan Spencer, you are degraded to Private. Give back the red belt and your uniform - IMMEDIATELY!” He bawled the last word at Dan Spencer. With shaking hands Private Spencer disrobed. When he was standing in his underpants, the major pushed him towards the audience that greeted him with cheers. The Bloodhounds just loved to humiliate people and now Dan Spencer was their target.

Paul didn’t participate in the activities. He just drank a martini and pushed Dan away when he once came close. Paul didn’t allow any emotions to surface. He remembered Dan from his trip to the colony. They had talked a few times. Paul couldn’t believe that Dan hadn’t seen where it would lead him when he volunteered for that job.

After about an hour, Major Smith once again stood up. “Quiet please. We have a little problem here it seems. This is an initiation party without a rookie. And we have a still living concubine.” The major looked around in the room. Paul froze when he felt the major’s gaze.

“Fortunately we have another man here who has spent some time with us. He is supporting us on the technical side, something we often forget to honor. Lance Corporal Peterson, please come to me.”

Paul stood up mechanically. His face was a mask. He had seen first hand what happened to people who disappointed the Bloodhounds. A drunken sergeant was blocking Paul’s way. He glared at the man until he gave way. Then he stood before the major.

“Lance Corporal Paul Peterson, this is your chance to become a member of the Bloodhounds. Will you take the opportunity?” the major asked. He was a little unsure. Normally he could read a person. But Paul’s face was blank. He stared at the major without blinking.

“Was that a question sir?” Paul quietly asked.

“Not really,” the major answered with an evil grin. He offered a stun gun to Paul. Paul looked at it. The power of the modified gun was set to maximum, which would cause the spine to fry when used at the neck.

Paul dropped the device. “I’ll select my own weapon.” He turned around and walked toward the rear wall where a replicator had poured out drinks for the whole evening. “Battleaxe. Extra sharp,” he ordered sub vocally.

When he returned with the heavy weapon, the room grew silent. Paul positioned himself behind the bound and blindfolded concubine and lifted the battleaxe high above his head. With a mighty blow he split the woman’s head and upper body. At about the height of her navel the weapon got stuck in her backbone. Blood sprayed over Paul and the first rows of the audience from the collapsing body. The Major had quickly stepped back but was hit by a few drops of blood too.

Paul looked around and saw disbelief and fear in several faces. He yanked the axe free from the dead body and shouldered it. More blood covered his hands, face and uniform. Slowly he returned to the replicator and dropped the axe into the recycling unit. Then he returned to his martini as if nothing had happened.

Major Smith broke the silence, “Well, this definitely qualifies Lance Corporal Peterson as a true Bloodhound. Welcome aboard.” Applause and cheers came up slowly.

In the following weeks Paul was invited to the training ground of the Bloodhound Company. That was an area with artificial thorny scrub made out of some sort of plastic and a few walls. The Bloodhounds liked to use that place for hide and seek games with people who deserved some sort of punishment in their opinion. In most cases the victim got a head start of one minute, and then he was hunted down and thrown into the scrub one or two times. The thorns were sharp enough to shred normal clothing and inflict painful wounds. The major reminded Paul at the first two events that these were no terminations. So Paul just followed the other Bloodhounds but avoided being involved in the punishment activities.

Things changed on a Monday evening. Paul had been invited to the training ground for the fifth time. He was already on his way when the AI told Paul, < Lance Corporal Paul Peterson, terms have changed. The victim on the training ground is a concubine of Major Smith. Major Smith has ordered her execution on the training ground.>

“Why’s that?” Paul asked sub vocally.

<This is restricted information, > the AI declared. But after a short pause it continued, <Concubine Rita slapped her master for bullying her eldest son. This is in no means a training session. Be prepared.>

Paul raised an eyebrow. This was not the first time that the AI acted strange. But the AI had given Paul information that this was not only a power game. When he arrived at the training ground, he found a group of five Bloodhounds, plus the major. The concubine was standing in a corner, shaking in fear. She wore a concubine’s shift that had been torn to stripes. Her body was covered with bruises and her right arm was dislocated.

Major Smith was all excited and explained what he expected the Bloodhounds to do to her. “I not only want her to suffer for her misbehavior. Drag her through the scrub. Rape her. Burn her with those plasma rifles. At the end of this day, I want to see her dead body on my porch!”

In the meantime, the men changed into light body armor and checked the weapons they got for this event. The light plasma rifle was a nasty weapon, even the training version. At the lowest level, a hit by the plasma beam would burn cloth and cause blisters on bare skin. At the maximum scale, a grazing shot would instantly cause third degree burns. A full hit would turn flesh to burning coal. However, Paul had an idea that these weapons were no training rifles.

After another tirade of the major against his concubine, he declared, “The man who finally kills her, gets an additional concubine and one week free to train her!”

Big mistake. The Bloodhounds cheered and were eager to rip her to pieces. Except for Paul. He aimed at the concubine and pulled the trigger. The room was instantly filled with heated air that made breathing painful. A wide spread, full power plasma beam had hit the concubine’s upper body and immediately turned all liquids into hot steam. Small pieces of cooked or fried flesh were covering the walls and the men. The concubine’s bones had turned into ashes. All that was left of the concubine were her legs, now lying in different corners of the room. A locker had caught fire. The AI quickly extinguished it.

When the major recovered from the initial shock he shouted, “What the hell was that?”

“You owe me a concubine, sir,” Paul calmly answered. With that he put the weapon back to the stand and left the place.

Back at his pod, his concubines awaited him in a submissive pose. Paul ignored them and stormed to the bath room. He made it to the toilet before he no longer could hold back and he vomited.

<Do you need medical help, Paul Peterson?> the AI asked.

“Don’t you dare tell anybody what’s happening here. This is not happening,” Paul croaked.

The story of the incident made it to Governor McGregor himself. He did a little research about Paul Peterson and was amazed by the cruelness of the soldier that nearly matched his own. Since Paul did not show any signs of ambition, the governor wasn’t worried about a potential rival or traitor. Governor McGregor made sure that Major Smith didn’t harm Paul in anger. He had something else in mind. He wanted to challenge the cruelness of the little soldier, test his limits and then break him.