And the broadcast cuts to a gradual sweep of the camera, showing the large mezzanine concourse of Aghara-Penthay’s trading station. Seeing it makes my stomach knot with fear. “I don’t think Lara should be watching this,” says Red Duchess, but I say “No!” and elbow her aside. I can’t imagine a more depraved den pov of vice and debauchery than what is the one on screen – the place I’m destined to go. Out on to the broad mezzanine spill the open fronts of bar after bar, brothel after brothel. Men are taking their base pleasures everywhere I look, most of them loud, and many of them drunk. Satisfying those pleasures are the women. The luckiest merely serve food or drink, but even those have to dodge or submit to the grasping hands. Some are made to dance. Others, perhaps lacking specific skills, merely stand to advertise their immediate availability for sex. Every single female I see is of the age and body shape we are taught men consider desirable. The majority amateur of women wear the single garment of a slave of Aghara-Penthay – a scarlet silken wrap like a towel, barely large enough to reach from the breast to the pelvis, which is configured to leave the girl open on one side. The wrap fastens with a bow under the left arm, so it may be untied and removed easily even when the wearer is restrained. Those less fortunate are naked – close up including the women being publically violated in plain view of the crowds, and the unattractive ones - those forced to display more in order to lure customers to their bodies. I only glimpse a few in that panorama who are wearing the garment destined for me – the blue wrap of a private slave, i.e. not owned by Aghara-Penthay. The blue wrap is much sought after by the local slaves. It means the woman will leave. It means she can hope. The undergarments common to most free females across the galaxy – bras and panties of some design, are not permitted to women anywhere on Slaver territory. Captives must be open and accessible at all times, the owner easily slipping a hand inside the wrap, or Hardcore pulling it aside to bare her. It’s hard to believe this place is real – and only a short distance away across the galaxy is somewhere that life indian is so different. Crowds of mostly humanity, but also some other species. The males relaxing and enjoying themselves. The females suffering. And through this milling throng walks the former bounty hunter, Ja-Alixxe. She has already been stripped. In the first glimpse the galaxy has had of her since her escape, we begin viewing her from the back. Her body is beautifully toned, almost as fit as a Gaianesian woman, making the rounded curves of her buttocks exquisite. The camera pans round the side, showing breasts that are surprisingly full for someone with so little body fat. She has large dark nipples. There is no hair to hide the contours of her exposed sex. The Slavers usually give females a treatment that prevents it re-growing, and not even Rape Runners are spared. Ja-Alixxe walks without resisting, but they have restrained her anyway. A device like a belt is around her hourglass waist, with a fixed wrist bracelet either side over the hip. It traps Ja-Alixxe’s hands close to her most vulnerable places, but leaving her unable to protect them, either in the front or the back. She looks straight ahead out her dark eyes. Her hair flows loosely about her face. Really, she’s exceptionally beautiful. Diamond is greedy, and takes what she wants pov from me. Crystal is like a mother, and only wants to see me pampered. The crowd murmured as she came into the light, the full extent indian of her abasement shown for all to see. If she let this opportunity pass her by she would never forgive herself. Pixie, I did not say I would not give you a chance. It should be dawn soon anyhow," Karl replied. No, the amateur worst part was the absolute, uncontrollable craving that opened up inside of Erin's core - a combination of hunger and lust. Rekha looked into his eyes. "You come with me" Giving myself close up to each of them privately or in groups as with Jake and his associates. Then his cool wet finger moves across the gentle swell of the top of your breasts. He shut the door to Hardcore the stove, came to the couch and settled into it with an exhausted whoomf. Part four The Conclusion