Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured. To get the full experience, please read through that one first.
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Kurokami
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The Showroom never truly shut down. That was because the patrons that frequented it tended to have highly variable hours; the Day People frequented the Showroom at night, and the Night People conducted their business during the day. It was mainly a matter of pride; the kind of person who would buy what the Showroom was selling would only want to do so during whatever their version of the witching hour was.
It was, as the name indicated, a room, though an unusually large one. It featured a vaulted ceiling studded with holographic screens and security cameras, overlooking a thronging crowd of humans and aliens alike, the entire room dedicated to the presentation of various ignominious attractions.
In the middle of the room was the wheel, the centrepiece of the entire operation. It spanned the majority of the floor, impossible to miss even through the mass of people.
It was an enormous cage, and it was there that Amy had been led after being taken from her cell. Her handler this time resembled nothing more than a six foot reptilian rabbit; scales and fur competing on pointed, aquiline features, with long ears flowing down its back. Despite this, there was nothing remotely friendly in it, to give Amy the illusion that she could disobey. It had her leashed, and even the slightest of pulling caused it to growl with unexpected ferocity.
Together, they wound their way through the crowd, her collar attracting more than a little undue attention from the patrons therein; Amy got the feeling that it was only the presence of the bunnydile that stopped them from getting more hands on. Inexorably, they edged closer to the cage, and from this angle Amy could see that it was separated by numerous partitions into sections, like the spokes of a bicycle wheel.
Many of the sections were occupied. She could see Sally in one of them.
The girl was at an angle from Amy's path of approach, looking the worse for wear for her time in the Guild's company. The Trine-form doctor had separated them before they had begun working over Sally, but Amy couldn't imagine that they had treated the brunette any better. At any rate, the girl wore her fear plainly, her heart on her sleeve and beating at a mile a minute. Amy could hardly blame her; she had been dropped right out of the world and into the jaws of monsters. They both had, but at least Amy had been prepared for this somewhat, by her time with the Doctor.
Her focus had zeroed in on Sally in the beginning, but the closer she and her handler got to the immense cage, Amy realized that the majority of the "spokes" were occupied by beings in much the same situation. Male and female, alien and human, of more variety that Amy had heretofore imagined, filled the traps of the wheel. All were as collared and naked as Amy herself. None of them seemed particularly happy to be there.
Oh, some looked resigned, downtrodden in special, bone-deep ways, and these were the ones who simply stood in the middle of their cages, bare and on display. Others were as frightened as Sally was, covering their nudity just as she did, attempting to hide themselves toward the centre of the wheel, rather unsuccessfully. Some wept, their deep sobs rising above the noise of conversation the closer Amy got to the wheel, bubbling up like sea foam on an ocean of sound. Some raged at their situation, either trying to break free of the cage, or simply yelling, in a multitude of languages, at any that passed by the bars.
And oh,
so many
passed by the bars, many of the stopping...
The bunnydile pushed Amy into one of the spokes and gave her one final growl as it sealed her in. It prodded at a panel hanging from the bars, setting it to display, as Amy had seen walking up, a serial number and profile for the contents within. And then she was alone; a product on display. A toy in a shop window.
It only took a few moments for her to attract some attention, as a pair of human women fell into the gravity well of the wheel close to Amy's spoke, drifting toward her door before zeroing in. They were beautiful, and dressed so well they almost shimmered, and intensely, chillingly disaffected by the plight of the beings in the cage. It was the
normalcy
of it that did it, giving Amy the sense that whatever world these ladies came from, it was utterly alien, beyond her grasp entirely. The fact that they had human features only made it worse.
They looked her up and down, in the manner one would examine a horse or some other form of working animal, paying special attention to the flanks, before whispering surreptitiously to one another. Amy looked back over her shoulder for support, but found Sally covering herself from the gazes of a collection of bipedal aliens that had stopped by her own cage.
When she looked back, the women had approached the bars, 'How far you've fallen, time traveller...'
The one who had spoken seemed to just be taunting her, but Amy's attention was drawn to the other woman, who was attaching a pair of adhesive circular pads to the backs of her hands. They hummed deeply, just barely audible over the din of the crowd, but instantly ominous all the same. When an identical hum began issuing from the forward corners of her cage, Amy's hunch was confirmed.
'Initiating ghost-drive examination tools,' A computerized voice issued from speakers far above. 'Please stand clear of the interdiction field.'
Amy stepped back, though she had no idea what an interdiction field might be, nor even where it might be coming from. That question, at least, was quickly answered; a pair of apertures opened from the solid metal corner segments of Amy's spoke, spilling out a cloud of tiny glittering particles, that hung in the air for a moment before knitting themselves together in a matter of moments. Seconds later, a pair of floating hands made their way down to her; when the woman bearing the pads flexed her fingers, the disembodied digits mimicked the motion.
'Now, let's see...' The woman spoke, and a moment later Amy squeaked, the sound of slapping flesh filling her perception before fading out. 'Nice tight butt...'
And so it went. As the hands explored her body, Amy couldn't help but appreciate them, just a little; as disconcerting as they were, they were at least clean and impersonal... to a degree, anyway. She could see the utility of them; on a truly galactic stage there was no way to ensure that the merchandise here could be handled by
every
species that might come by without causing damage either to the slaves themselves or their prospective buyers without some form of intermediate. As the ghost-drive appendages caressed her body, so convincingly that if she closed her eyes Amy could imagine a real person attached to them, she knew that they were the perfect answer.
Of course, none of that dispelled what was actually happening to her; here she was, yet again, getting manhandled and molested by strangers, an all too common occurrence lately. Unsurprisingly, there was no restraint in
these
hands either, artificial or no; they gravitated to the fun parts of her body, indulging with a startling amount of skill for a pair of mechanical proxies. One had moved up, tugging and pulling on one of Amy's nipples, as the other slipped down her ass at an angle that no hand that was attached to an arm could ever replicate.
It had its own goal in mind.
Again, Amy squeaked, as a pair of fingers tickled up between her legs, boldly over the lips of her pussy. A moment later, the flat metal palm slapped down on the inside of one thigh, before delivering a backhand to her other leg.
