"So when do you think we'll get one?"
Asher Brown ran a hand through his dark hair. Despite the pounding, everything still attached correctly. Fucking wine. Somehow he managed to croak "Get one what?"
"A slave girl, of course."
"Of course. I'm never drinking again," he grumbled.
Placing her hand on his chest, Danielle snuggled close. "Last night wasn't satisfying enough?"
"You practically attacked me. What the hell got into you?" That question, Asher realized, answered itself. Slave girls. She'd been insatiable since... he supposed that answered itself too. "I can only remember the wild sex. What else happened?"
"Nothing unusual. Just you returning home for dinner. Talking about your day. Offering your adoring wife the gift of her dreams."
"Ah yes, things are coming back now." He recalled Danielle sitting there enraptured. Eyes wide and everything. It felt intoxicating. As did, his headache reminded him, the Bordeaux, which Danielle had poured liberally. Asher defaulted on the truth. "That may not be a good idea."
"But you promised."
"Since when have a few drinks caused reckless talk? Yeesh. I hate disappointing you. Entangling myself with the Atoderians, though, genuinely lacks appeal. Well, getting any more entangled than I already am. All of which is academic regardless. It's not allowed."
"Allowed? By the government? Since when would they even try doing something?" Danielle fired.
"Politicians and law enforcement ignore all these girls disappearing for a reason. Whatever the law of the land these days, it sure as hell isn't the Constitution."
"Exactly. Where's the issue?"
"My... employers want quiet. People don't know details. Imagine the uproar from a public that actually understood how many women were being snatched. There's only innuendo right now, and the Atoderians intend to keep it that way. Anything on the radar hurts business."
"Everyone working there keeps a slave, right? They must stay somewhere. Surely one measly girl wouldn't be a problem."
"The aliens have their own," Asher admitted, "but no humans do."
"So we'll be first."
"When I suggested a hobby, somewhere to put your energy, this wasn't what I had in mind."
"They love you, though. You talked about always joking around. How you were the sole human who..."
"Say they'd agree," Asher interrupted, "we're talking about someone's daughter. Would you even really want a slave girl?"
Danielle bared her teeth, as Asher discovered a facial expression he imagined only previously witnessed by seals meeting an orca. "Someone's servile daughter. That's the whole point. Debase her however you want, the stupid slut will just love each second anyway."
"Atoderian definitions of submissive tend towards the expansive. A percentage including normal women. People with jobs. Friends. Dreams."
"I've decided it's best. For everyone. The poor thing will be enslaved regardless. Taken. Collared. Maybe even stripped. Does that happen? Removing clothes from the start?" Danielle asked, visions of helpless girls having their dresses ripped off practically dancing in her eyes.
Asher admired how quickly she managed to compose herself. Woman on a mission.
"The point being, there's no freeing the little bitch. Obviously. What's better? Forcing her off to some distant planet in service of perverted alien masters, or, staying on Earth? A slave girl should be here. With me. So I can look after her."
"Why am I even considering agreeing to your lunacy? This hangover must be worse than I realized."
"We'll own her together. A real family possession. You needn't worry over details. Consider them handled. I'd make certain we get our value from the whore. She'll learn to please. Or else. At least ask for me darling. What's the worst that could happen?"
*
"Let's hear about Pellern's new prize." The comment drew hoots of approval. "We're all consumed with jealousy. First lot sold here. Almost first on the whole planet. And such limited quantity. How did you swing such a triumph? Any help from the inside, so to speak?"
"No. Adventures on Earth seem to have Paup... distracted," Pellern zib Wunoq smirked.
"He's not the only one diverting himself now. Stop holding out on those of us living vicariously through juicy details."
"See the depths to which we've plummeted? Begging. Locked in ferocious competition with family. Longstanding bonds torn asunder in exchange for trinkets."
Jeers filled the room. Gritting her teeth, Pellern resisted an urge to sigh. Less for the sanctimonious lecture than for the whole tedious exercise. Massive time sunk into one interminable gathering after another. What did Pellern really have in common with these people? The very concept of a clan felt primitive. Maybe even ancient ties outlived their usefulness.
Before she could consider further, though, her original questioner blurted: "Ah yes, the good old days! Nice to hear your theories on the subject. Again."
"Go ahead and make snide remarks. We surrendered our birthright."
"A thousand years of peace yet still you snivel. We're Unified Universal. Get used to that. Everyone else managed generations ago."
"Grow accustomed to Kentrellite sublimation? Keep your Unified Universal," the inveigher spat.
"Imagine advocating for division. Seeking conflict where none exists. Saddening really. Perhaps Pellern can cheer me up. Taught your chattel any cute tricks?"
"Surely you don't need me reciting specifications," Pellern demurred, knowing the gesture's futility. She had to give them something. Even if raising envy wouldn't do. Traditions needed maintaining. For the moment.
"Come now," her interrogator persisted. "Everyone understands their biology. Little sluts."
More laughter. Another voice crowed: "With auctions starting, though, we'll finally add some hands on practice!"
"About time the Atoderians stopped hoarding. Keeping these creatures for themselves was greedy even by their usual standards."
"Earth girl shortages are obscene," a man added to general consensus. "Just seize the necessary animals. Plenty of suitable candidates. We need more women made available for purchase. Unified Universal worlds should be able to procure basic staples."
"So basic a staple that a short time ago you didn't believe they existed!"
"Who envisioned this species? Tucked away in that remote corner with females built for submission. Attach a personal locus, barely modified, and they'll actually train themselves."
"Amusing to see the locus encircling a slim neck, I'll admit. Quite aesthetically pleasing."
"Without the collar you might even mistake a human girl for one of us. Assuming you'd dressed her for the occasion." He waited out the chuckles. "Wrap the locus around her pretty throat, however, and EVERYONE knows. One glance says they're property. Made docile through pleasure. Yet our poor deprived public starves."
"Certainly those who hunger for such companionship manage."
"That doesn't count! I'm talking about organic. Raised on their own world. Enslaved from Earth itself. But why listen to me with an expert available. Enough delay Pellern, how's the little strumpet? Exotic?"
"Well she's not little for the record."
"Oh?"
"Quite tall. A head over me at least."
"What do you call her?"
"The original name was preposterous. Bridgette or some such nonsense. She goes by Frisky now."
"Why that moniker?"
"Felt appropriate. She'd been an athlete. Their volleyball forges talented sex slaves apparently."
"Finding ways to utilize that vigor?"
"Besides for the obvious?" Pellern smiled at her own joke.
Other voices called out, words tumbling over one another. "Slapping her around settles a human girl right down."
"No, tie her up with time to think."
"Attach some weights to the nipples."
"Race the bitch! And don't spare your whip."
"Would Frisky enjoy being exposed for a roaring crowd's amusement?"
"Eventually I suppose." Pellern acknowledged, rejoining the conversation. "Her collar sees to that."
"Whatever you decide, acclimating a slave girl to her new status sounds noble. I'd be happy assisting. And not just me. Cheering on your plaything is the least we could do. Only so many zib Wunoqs after all. Imperative we stick together."
Pellern willed her expression flat. "Like I always say about family: the more, the merrier."
*
Tap. Tap. Tap. Lauren Rossi scowled towards the bouncing shoe heel before appraising the attached body. Long legs. Tapered waist. Nice tits. Izzy was quite a piece of ass. Even when Lauren felt like strangling her. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Seeking a distraction, Lauren stared out the window. Some form of vessel emerged from a nearby building. She watched it idle in the air before launching upwards. As the ship disappeared from her vision, Lauren wondered where they were going. Off Atoderia entirely? Presumably the whole universe waited at their disposal. Meanwhile she was trapped here. Naked and demeaned. With only Izzy, the human percussion section, for company. Tap. Tap. Tap.
A familiar tingle crowded everything else from her mind. Shit. Elevated stress level. Clacking forgotten, Lauren couldn't prevent a swell of rage. At fate. At aliens. Mainly, however, at herself. While she'd broken discipline for only a second, the sensible part of her knew the truth. That a second was enough.
She reached underneath her thin strip of dark pubic hair, hand worming between thick thighs. Her sex was already wet. Hot. Needy slave girl, an internal voice sneered. Lauren swallowed her shame, other hand toying with a nipple, fingers gently tweaking. "Mmmph."
The hungry sigh caught Izzy's attention. Grinning, she turned for a better view. "Ever consider keeping calm?"
"I'm trying," Lauren huffed.
"Maybe you need a few pointers."
"Gag. I'll be fine. Afterward."
"How many does this make? Three today, right?"
"You've kept count. Typical. No doubt making a note of everything, to better regale Tomur with any lurid details later. Well forgive me for not better adjusting to life as an object."
"You do look miserable," Izzy, rising to her feet, giggled in the direction of Lauren's busy fingers.
"At least pretend not to enjoy this."
"Stop making it so easy."
