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Tamara
Rashid and I retreated from the danger zone as the girls descended on the bag of muffins like a swarm of starved Sentarran piranhas. I allowed them a few minutes to munch because nobody would have listened to me anyway. We had three muffins remaining: two intended for the security staff I had fired, and one for myself. I gave mine to Jules, who had thankfully stopped crying, and divided the others among the rest of the girls.
"Sorry, but you already had one," I said and leaned against Rashid who put his hands on my shoulders. "I swear I'm gonna make it up to you later."
"Those were triple choc muffins. I'm not sure how that's even possible."
I reached around and squeezed both his butt cheeks. "I'll let you choose. Anything from the Haven's menu, one item per ingredient."
"Huh? How am I supposed to know how you make them?"
"Flour, baking soda, salt," said Jules, licking her fingers. "Butter, sugar, eggs, milk, and three types of chocolate. Oh, and a bit of vanilla."
"You heard her," I said, patting his abs. "That's... eleven. Cutting down on sugar is better for your health anyway. And look, they have strap-on sessions. I don't think I ever used one on you."
"Interesting," said Rashid, also studying the menu. "They have spankings. Ten on the ass with a leather strap. I don't think I ever used one on you."
I grinned. "The closest thing I had to a spanking was the neuro whip last year. Reminds me that I have to check if Martha filed her tax returns. The last thing I need is a repeat performance."
He put his arms around me, lifting my boobs. "Let's strike spanking off the menu. I doubt it's very popular with your staff."
"Definitely. But if you want it, I'm game. I said anything you want, and I always keep my word."
"Nah, I'm good. I know how much you hate it."
By now, the girls had finished eating, and I decided it was time to start the meeting. They were sitting on the beds and the booths' separator walls, looking at me expectantly.
"Alright, everyone," I said. "I know you've had it rough here, and I'm guessing most of you would rather be anywhere else, but here's my offer. Give me a week, and there will be some changes that will improve everyone's situation."
"What changes?" one asked from the back. "No more zapping?"
"How about a few hours off to see our families?" asked another. "My husband shouldn't have to pay to spend time with me."
"I've got a son! Will I be able to see him?"
"I'm gonna eat your pussy for another muffin!"
Everyone was talking over each other, shouting questions, and the whole meeting was out of control before it had even started. After two minutes of chaos and my unsuccessful efforts to get them to calm down, Tamara walked over to the security desk, squeezed her eyes shut, and pressed a button, resulting in startled shrieks from everyone. The shocks had their intended effect -- the room went quiet immediately.
"Tamara, thanks," I said, "but let's not do that again."
She shrugged. "It was just on level one. We've all had a lot worse."
Some discipline was considered necessary in a brothel, and I had plenty of first-hand experience in that regard, but neuro shocks were definitely on the nasty end of the spectrum. At least it was quiet now, so I was able to continue.
"Alright, listen, ladies! In this place, there won't be shocks, chains, or shackles, and there's no point in having the entire team here unless it's peak hours. We're gonna make a duty roster, and you can go wherever you like on the station as long as you're back on time for your shift. If you have a family and want to live with them, that's fine."
"What about proper food once in a while?" asked one. "All we get is slave gruel, three times a day! My stomach turns when I even see that shit."
Another one nodded. "One muffin in two years isn't enough!"
"Yeah!" shouted someone from the back. "The sweetest thing I had in over a year is cum from a goddamn vegan!"
Half the room burst out laughing, and I needed a moment to compose myself.
"There will be cake, cookies, and other treats from time to time, don't worry. And we're gonna order pizza for lunch today."
Again everyone was talking over each other. I would have guessed that getting rid of chains and shocks would be the most exciting news, but judging from the girls' excited chatter, food was an even more important point.
I raised my voice. "I will meet with everyone individually and listen to what you have to say; there's no need to shout. This is a business, and I probably can't give everyone what they want, but working conditions will improve, and I promise that you're gonna be treated fairly and with respect."
"Tell that to our customers! We're just fuckmeat to them!"
"Ladies," I said, "let's be realistic. This is a brothel, they're not coming for the view, but--"
"They slap us around!" complained a blonde next to me, shoving her breasts in my face. "I've got bruises on my fucking tits! Look!"
"I hear you," I said. "We won't tolerate abuse. There will be no spankings, no slapping, no choking, or anything like that. If customers misbehave, we will throw them out. You've seen Rashid, he's got a zero tolerance policy for that."
"What about ass to mouth?" asked a small-breasted redhead with freckles all over. "Not everyone likes the taste of their own ass."
I looked at her in disbelief. "You gotta be kidding me."
She smirked. "Just checking if this is still a whorehouse. You make it sound like some kind of massage parlor with happy endings."
"It's a brothel, and that means no holes are barred, and dicks will be sucked, no matter where they've been, okay? Clean yourselves out regularly, then it's not an issue. I expect good service, but I know this job isn't for everyone. If any of you would rather do something else, talk to me later, and we'll try to find a solution."
This led to more discussions, and I decided to wrap up the meeting before my voice gave out.
"Listen up! Rashid's going to go around and take your pizza order. And after lunch, Dr. Hulsman is coming for a health check. Meeting adjourned!"
I was just about to go and get myself coffee when Jules cleared her throat.
"Excuse me, ma'am. Freckles and I, we're no serfs, we're penal slaves."
"So?"
"The old boss always kept us shackled when we weren't at our booths. Isn't that the law? Slaves have to be shackled in public."
There were plenty of penal slaves on the station, most of them working simple maintenance jobs. Most were unsupervised, wearing red jumpsuits and leg irons, but I had no idea if that was a real requirement -- the rules varied from place to place across the quadrant.
"This is a private business, I don't think you have to worry about that."
"You're our owner," she said, pulling a pair of shackles from under her bed. "What if you have to pay a fine, or if you get lashes or something? The madam said--"
"I don't care what Martha said. A friend of mine studies law, I'll have her look into it, okay?"
She looked at me and bit her lip. She shoved the shackles back under the bed, but I could tell that something else was bothering her.
"Are you okay?" I asked. "Those shocks earlier looked horrible. How about you take a break and lie down for a few hours?"
"You... you said to talk to you about the job."
"Yeah. What is it? It's not your thing?"
She closed her eyes. "No."
"Look, sex work is tough under the best of circumstances, and it took me months getting used to working in a place like this. Give it some time, maybe it'll grow on you. Without all the abusive shit and with fewer hours, it's not a bad job."
She looked like she was close to tears. "I've been doing it for almost six months, and I still hate it. First-timers usually get a job in maintenance, but when I was sentenced, they didn't have a spot. I'm not a criminal, I just couldn't keep up with my taxes after they raised them last year."
"Damn, that sucks. And then they put you up for auction?"
"No, they gave me a choice. It was either going to a camp down on Terraxis, or this. I was really scared of those camps, so I thought I'd give it a try. Could you, maybe, sell me? I'll do anything as long as it isn't this."
"Tell you what," I said and put my arm around her. "Why don't you go and get dressed. There's always enough chores, either here or over at the Nymph. You can help with the cleaning, maybe work reception for a bit."
"You, err, you said you wanted to improve the food. I could cook. I mean, you can't order pizza every day. That would be way too expensive."
"Jules," I said and took her hand, "cooking for twenty people is different from cooking for yourself or your family. That takes training and quite a bit of practice."
"I know. I worked at a restaurant on deck seventy-three. Give me a chance, and you won't regret it. Please?"
I pondered for a moment. I had promised better food, but to be honest, I still had no plan on how to make good on that promise. Cooking was a full-time job, and I didn't have the time to do it myself. The kitchen in the cantina looked like it hadn't been used in a while, but if the appliances worked, it would do.
"Alright, let's give it a try. Effective immediately, you're our cook. Work out a menu for one week, and tell me what budget you need. It should be tasty, healthy, but not too expensive. Rashid will give you a data pad for your calculations and to write it all down. Sounds good?"
She beamed. "Yes, ma'am. I'll get on it right away."
