Irene's heavy boots rested on a filthy dashboard as the space station jumped into view at lightspeed. She reclined in her chair and took a swig from her large bottle, bright, neon liquid dripping from her chin.
'You have reached your destination. You are currently orbiting Jovis V,' announced a pleasant synthetic voice.
'Welcome to your new home, kid,' Irene turned in her chair and stamped her feet on the grey, metal floor.
She was a lean, hard-looking woman, muscular, her left arm replaced by cold steel, its hand a claw. She wore a battered leather jacket and from her belt dangled around a dozen knives in all shapes and sizes. On half of her head, she wore her tangled green hair long, but the left side had been burned and remained perpetually bald and scarred.
'Wh-where are we?' asked the prisoner.
'Ain't ya been listening? This is Jovis V, the biggest damn house of pleasure this side of Proxima and ya, ya little sweetheart, got me an offer.'
'J-Jovis V?'
'Yeah, that's not something ya'd have heard about in that God-fearing little colony of yours. They like to keep out of the way of polite society. Ha! Lucky that's no longer your thing, pumpkin.'
Ada took a small step back and looked past her captor out through the observation screen. Even from here, a million neon lights were visible all over the massive station. Her clammy palms pressed together, she was a tall, round-faced girl. Her hair and eyes were dark and her figure curvy and feminine, a little plump, some would say. Her wrists and ankles were bound in light metal shackles and she wore nothing but an artificial skintight cotton suit, which the ship had fabricated after Irene had torn her dress.
'The interested party's gonna be needing ya ready in a week's time. Till then ya better behave, got it?'
'Behave? Are you gonna sell me to some pervert? I wanna go home!'
'Do ya now? Ya know what those pirates did to your home? I'd be surprised if ya'd recognise it, ha, even the graves'll be unnamed unless someone took the time to mark a couple hundred ditches. Nah, I told ya, this is your home now. Look, isn't it nice and shiny.'
'You're horrible!'
'That's just the kind of backtalk we gotta get eliminated, pumpkin.'
Irene rose and Ada backed away immediately until she hit the closed bridge door. Whirring and buzzing, the metallic arm grabbed a handful of the girl's hair.
'I hope you're a real fast learner, cause as a teacher, I ain't known for my patience.'
'All right, first order of the day: seductive dance.'
Irene had cleared a little space in her gym and mounted one of her pull-up bars vertically as an impromptu stripper pole. She pointed a mechanical finger at Ada and with a series of beeps, her shackles fell from her limbs.
'I-I've never danced before, what am I supposed to do?'
'What, no boy-girl rodeos? No square dancing at the big harvest festival? You're starting to disappoint me with your country bumfuck credentials, pumpkin.'
'M-my name's Ada. And I mean this kinda dancing,' she glanced at the pole and blushed.
'Ya know what, real first order of the day: respect. Got it? Ya don't talk back to me, ya do what you're told. Also, ya call me mistress and when Mr. Southerner buys ya, then ya call him master and ya worship him and when he tells ya to worship someone else, ya do that too. And when someone calls ya a name, then that's your fucking name. Now dance, pumpkin. Ya got your tits and your arse, wiggle, I don't think your customers are gonna be choosy.'
Ada wasn't weak, not at all. She was heavy but she could lift her weight easily. At first, she had little trouble. Walking around the pole, hanging off it with one hand, switching hands, showing a little cleavage here, a little bottom there, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of Irene's moody melodies all seemed manageable. All too soon, however, Irene became demanding. She had Ada climb up and try to swing round, had her sling her legs round the pole and lean back and even use nothing but her hands to stay in position for several seconds and display her stocky legs. Ada was hot and breathing heavily when Irene told her to strip.
'What?'
Irene slapped her across the face, mercifully using her human hand.
'Yes, mistress, of course, mistress!'
Clumsily, she began to peel out of the suit.
'Not like that, slowly. Start with the cleavage.'
Ada pulled down the zipper until her large, soft breasts were mostly exposed. Right away, she felt her skin prickle, sweaty and cold. Her nipples went rigid still just beneath the fabric.
'Good, this is how ya will draw your customers.'
Irene pulled up a chair and planted herself right in front of the pole.
'Pull me in, pumpkin.'
Ada bit her lip to stop herself from answering. She took a deep breath to stop her fist from shaking and grabbed onto the pole. She shook her bum, tip-toed around a little, then leaned back and gave her one-person audience a glimpse of her womanly wiles.
'That's it. See? Nothin to it. Gimme a flash. There's a good girl, but seriously, work on your smile.'
Ada's teeth were clenched as she straightened up again and covered her nipples.
'Ya got my attention, pumpkin. Now for the real work. At this point, you're gonna get a signal, see I'm tellin ya, I've made my choice for the night and it's ya, ya little scamp.'
She beckoned Ada.
'Ya can imagine I'm holding a wad of cash, if it helps, cause this is the main event, baby girl.'
Ada just stared and the slaver sighed.
'What d'ya think Southerner is after ya for your exceptional skills as a dancer? Come here, ya dolt.'
Ada moved.
'Now ya might be told what to do, but the important thing is that you're ready for anything. Your body'll be Mr. Southerner's then and people are paying him good money to play with ya, so ya better let them play.'
Irene ripped the suit and grabbed a perky little nipple.
'Whatever they feel like doin, ya better play along, got that?'
'Yes, mistr- ah!'
Irene laughed as she twisted hard.
'Good, now let's see if your game's up to scratch, pumpkin.'
The slaver patted her crotch.
'It's called body language. Read it.'
