My name is RIshi
#1 of Rishi
A little bit of Rishi's past
My name is RIshi. Don't ever forget that, because it is important. I am both Whitean, and Clesian. Clesia is a moon, orbiting the planet (White) which has been terraformed in order to sustain life. It is populated by Clesians: anthropomorphic dogs, typically with spots or stripes, almost always Dalmatian mixed with something else. The Clesians actually came to this Galaxy from another, long ago, in the hopes of conquering it. The military of White beat them back, reduced the invasion fleet to rubble. With no way to get home, the Clesians surrendered. White allowed them to colonize their moon, which was then renamed to match that of the Clesians' original homeworld.
Ever since then, Clesians have been servants. In this day and age, we are bred to serve and appease all whom we meet....but especially the Whiteans.
We are selectively bred, and even genetically modified...to be able to pleasure, as well as protect, our Master or Masters. We age very slowly, continue to look young and beautiful until the day we die...which is generally not for several hundred years.
I call you back to the opening statement I made, now, because Clesians are not given proper names, like Rishi. We're assigned numbers, until we reach sexual maturity (often thirteen years old; maturity is when we have had our first Heat cycle) at which point we are given names such as, but not limited to: Spot, Stripe, Slut, Bitch, Pet, Cunt, Dot, Speckles, Freckles, Whitey, Pinky, Dog, Pup, Ruff...things of that nature. Names to help them adjust to the fact their lives will never have any meaning, except to serve. At least, that's how it started...before they managed to perfect the breeding and gene manipulation, so as to produce offspring who are born /knowing/ they are to serve, and both psychologically and physiologically /needing/ to do so.
As far as I know, only one in several million of those bred to be slaves suffers...abnormality. I was one of these. They could not detect it at first; sure I came out with one red eye, and one sunglow orange, but this wasn't an uncommon trait. There was no reason for anybody to test me, based solely on that. If they had, they would have found that, in this particular case, the heterochromacy was the result of a failure...a mutation. That's what I was, and that's what spared me the brainwashing...
The powers that be, our Lord's government, didn't realize this until I started school. Clesian schooling consist primarily of beaming various information directly into the student's head, and then having them practice sexual skills...when the teacher tried to take off my pants, I bit his arm, kicked him between the legs, and then used the very martial arts their machines and gene manipulation had given me. I blasted a hole in the wall with Ki...it took me by surprise, actually, when the little pink ball erupted from the pad of my paw palm...but it worked well enough, and while the teacher activated an alarm to summon the guard, I darted through the hole I had made. I was going home...seeking my parent's refuge.
At this point I will explain that, since Clesia was but a satellite...a moon, orbiting White...all of our homes were underground. The silvery blue craters of the surface were unoccupied, except by machines that roved around, like horse-sized june beetles, converting dust and rock into usable things, then bringing them down to the sheltered city of metal and diamond and crystal we all called home. That said, the surface atmosphere /was/ breathable, due to the machines' terraforming...but our Lord had no interest in it. I'm not sure what else I can say, beyond that. Clesia was the size of a small planet. Before the terraforming, it had been an ice giant, beautifully crystalline in appearance; but now the ice was all but melted, and the methane and ammonia replaced with oxygen.
Highly intelligent (for a five-year-old) due to the way slaves learned, I was able to slip past all the guards, made my way to my parent's little apartment in District 12 easy enough. I knocked on the heavy titanium door, as it was locked. Felt a rush of relief as I heard the whir of the unlocking mechanism. Then the door slid apart, little slivers breaking off and withdrawing into the frame. I smelled the sweet, comforting aroma of baking pastries, saw the dim glow of the den, with its faded but cozy brown shag carpet. My tail wagged a little, and I stepped forward.
"There she is!" said the gruff voice of my father, from behind me. Before I could turn to him, I noticed two Guardsmen on either side of me. Dalmatians, both, wearing thick silver armor...covering all but their heads. They both held what looked like a pole with pincers on the end. I had never seen one of these before, presumably because the brainwashing left them unnecessary...they were called pain sticks, or obedience claws.
I wheeled around at the sight, thinking I could run to daddy, and he would protect me...to my horror, he was the one who clamped the cold metal of a painstick around my neck, and then pushed the button that sent the lightning coursing through my veins. I screamed, but couldn't move. The guards closed one around my waist, as well, and hit the shock button. I was helpless...and in this fashion, they carried me away for punishment, keeping me zapped the whole, long way. I wasn't thinking about the physical pain though. I was crying because...I had been home. Safe, I thought...and my own father had betrayed me. If they controlled him, they surely controlled mother as well. That meant I was alone...with nowhere to run. I couldn't hope to defeat all the Ki users of Clesia, and then even if I did, what would I do? Steal a vessel and flee? They only let slaves learn the coordinates of White and our own home, here...and according to the teaching machines, White was far, far worse. It's people cruel, its surface harsh. Only the slave offerings kept the Whiteans from wiping us all out.
I wasn't taken back to class. Not after what I had done. They took me to a rehabilitation camp. Primarily, a torture camp. It began with a visit from the Lord himself. He was a doberman. Black, and brown. Growling and biting never really talking. I was only five years old. The guards stripped me, and the Lord took me, by force. His rocket...his filthy, glistening red meatbone, was a good ten inches. I knew what he wanted, of course, and I fought...I gave it all I had, but his strength was so great. He just let my puny pink Ki blasts dissipate against him, let me run around and tire myself out, until I realized there was nowhere to run, and collapsed. Then he grabbed the scruff of my neck, tossed me to the far side of the room...I hit my back against the metal wall pretty hard, I don't know how I didn't black out...I guess that was cruel fate, too, because I was awake as he closed the distance, that terrifying meat rod fully erect, as he stroked it with his paw. He poked it against my muzzle,and when I didn't open up, he grabbed my nose...pinched it between his forefinger-like digit, and thumb, and with a casual wrist flick, he broke it...my nose. The pain made me scream, and when I did, he grabbed my right ear, pulled me down on his filthy meatbone. Mercilessly, he pumped and pumped, going down my throat each time. I had no choice but to tame my gag reflex, because his forcefulness prevented me from doing anything...though I heaved, and even vomited, he just kept humping, working me back and forth. I think he even liked the blood pouring from my snout...my poor little blue snout.
"This is what you're supposed to do bitch," the Lord growled in a grunting voice as he fucked my throat, "you suck...use your tongue...take the knot. You don't fucking question it, and you don't resist." then he looked over to one of his men, the Guard. "What's this bitch's name? She feels better than most..."
"Sprinkles," said the guard. I couldn't see him, but he sounded bored. "Number X-09."
"Heh," smirked my rapist, then he groaned...I guess with pleasure. I tasted his salty pre, felt him twitch...his knot swelled. I bit. On my life, I bit down as hard as I possibly could, I came as I tasted his blood, and heard him scream. I climaxed, for the first time in my life...even as he punched me, trying to get me to let go, and called the guards over. I couldn't help myself; I growled in pleasure, no matter how they hit me, I didn't let go until my teeth went all the way through, and then when the guard closed the painstick around my neck, and the volts began coursing blue through my veins, I laughed a delirious little laugh.
The last thing I saw before they threw me in the dungeon, where I would be alone, deprived of food, sight, and sound...was the Lord-Master's red rocket, nothing more than a two inch, bleeding stump. The rest of it lie on the floor at his feet, in a puddle..a mixture of my saliva, his cum, and both our blood.
During the many nights I sat in silence, that image, along with the thought that had sustained me throughout the rape kept me sane. "My name...is Rishi." it had come to me after hearing the guards give the Lord my slave name. Rishi...because I could see what the others could not. I...would not be broken.