I fired the ion cannon batteries once more, obliterating the drive module, and raked the slavership with blitzgun fire as I flew the heavy frigate in for the kill. As my ship approached the nose section of the big Keldarian vessel, I unleashed a tight beam from the particle acceleration cannon spinally mounted and vaporised the command unit.
"Well shot, Sir!" said my XO Jeeves, a Venusian Zengloid with the manners of an old-fashioned English gentleman's gentleman.
"Readying your boarding lock" said my Co-pilot Yuki, a willowy snowmaiden of Neptune, tall, white-skinned, lissom, and implacable in her hatred for the Keldarian Empire. As was I.
I had been but a boy when they attacked the ship on which we had been passengers. My father died trying to defend the vessel against their raider, and my mother had taken me to the escape pods. Only one remained. She had pushed me inside, and handed me her signet ring, attuned to her bio-signs, telling me she would always love me. As the pod launched, taking me to safety, I saw a brutal Keldarian Manborg seize her, ripping her gown away as he forced her down on all fours...
I had drifted for three days in my grief and fear, when a privateer vessel found me. With nowhere to go, when I heard they fought the Keldarians, I begged to join them. Over the next decade I had learned everything there was to know about flying and fighting. Starting as Captain Trawl's cabin boy, in time I became his first mate. Then, after a particularly spectacular prize was taken, he took me aside and told me it was time I commanded my own vessel. I used my share of the prize - and a gift from Trawl - to outfit the Filial Piety. Lightly crewed but brutally heavily armed, she is the most feared warship of her class. And today, she was to help me do what I had dreamed of for so long Rescue my mother.
The signet had never dimmed, the life force of my mother still strong. I had imagined the horrors of her slavery - beatings, cruel hard drudgery in the rad mines or the humiliation of space-goat herding. But somehow she was surviving - surviving, I liked to imagine, knowing that one day I would return for her.
Well, today was that day. I left Yuki the conn, and bounded down to the boarding dock. There, Nest, my replicant marine, was waiting to cover me. Her plastic skin shone bright, her pink hair flowed down her back, the skintight spacesuit doing nothing to hide the curves of her fuckdoll origins. Her programming chip fit as well in there as a hulking bruiser - and besides, it gets lonely in space sometimes...
I took a cutlass and lasblaster from her, kissed her thoroughly for luck, and boarded.
The few surviving crew were panicking, trying to reach the pods. That would do them little good. Yuki would be using them for target practice.
I found the cargo deck. The slaves in transit were in stasis pods. My ring had been modified to act as a homing sensor, and I soon found myself in front of the pod containing - could it really be? - my mother.
I touched the identifier panel. A holo popped out - a little older, but unmistakeably the beautiful full-lipped face and halo of brunette hair of my mother.
I triggered the lock. There was a hiss, a gap of escaping sealant gas. The hatch opened completely, the light came on and out stepped...
A woman, her body encased in a space latex catsuit as tight as could be in bright pink. Over it she wore a black fishnet one-piece and a buckled space-PVC corset about her waist. Her head was held high by a buckled black collar with a D ring for a leash at the front. Her head was covered with a shiny black hood which left only her luscious, full-lipped mouth and her lovely blue eye - eyes which I instantly recognised - exposed.
She stepped forward, handed me a control ring.
"This unit is designated Pleasure Unit M-97, but will answer to any name its master chooses. This unit awaits your command, Master" she spoke. My mother's voice, but now with a trace of Keldarian accent.
They had turned my mother into a pleasure slave!
I thought with horror of how they conditioned women for these roles. Only the most beautiful, physically superb females of their species were selected. First, they were sent for "breaking". Weeks on the harsh tundra-world of Shame. Starving, cold, surviving only if they were willing to give up increasingly demeaning sexual favours for food or shelter. It weeded out those with a sense of pride, or the will to fight back. I remembered the signet glowing so dim - perhaps my mother had made the decision then - to live, by whatever means necessary.
Once broken, accepting their roles as whores, the selected females were taken to the world known as Slut Prime to be conditioned fully. Obedience was enforced with agonizer beams, pain collars, and sometimes old-fashioned floggings. From now on, any attempt to resist was met with a slow death. Meanwhile, every sleeping second they were subjected to deep hypnosis, subliminal messaging, and nano-treatments which subtly and gradually reprogrammed them from the free independent women they had once been into docile, utterly submissive sex slaves, incapable of disobedience and knowing pleasure only when they were pleasing their masters. Their days were spent in physical education to cultivate perfect physical stamina and flexibility, their evenings in learning all the arts of pleasure. Subtle surgeries, implants and nano-tonics enhanced their natural beauty even further, until they were more goddesses than women. Slut-goddesses. The most advanced selectees were taken on a graduation tour of each Keldarian world, learning a new perversion on each, it is said. A fully-trained pleasure unit, permitted to wear the pink, would have taken a thousand lovers, male and female, and satisfied them all.
And this was the fate which had befallen my mother.
She sank down onto her knees, thighs parted wide, the heels of her thigh-boots pointed away from me.
"Get up, mother!" I said. She remained motionless. I remembered the power ring, what I knew about them. I set it down, crushed it beneath the heel of my space boot. That should break the control, free her.
That was not what happened. She shuddered as the controller embedded within her clitoris to identify her master sent its last message. Then said, monotonously:
"You have destroyed the controller. No other man may command this pleasure unit. You are now this unit's supreme Master for all time. She begs her Supreme Master to use her for his pleasure!"
I noticed that she was breathing heavier, that her nipples were visibly hardening under the thin latex fucksuit.
"Look, we have to get out of here!" I said. "Back to my ship!"
She nodded, and said: "yes, Supreme Master!" and followed me as I fought back to the Piety. Before leaving, I released all the slaves. They could perhaps repair the ship, or at least trade her for scrap to start new lives.
*
Nest looked with impassive interest at my mother, whose body in the fetishistic slave uniform was frankly magnificent. Yuki was at first angry and confused.
"You couldn't find your mother so you brought back a pleasure unit? Are Nest and I not enough for...oh!"
"This unit's designation in Pleasure Unit M-97. What is your name, Mistress-slave to the Supreme Master?" my mother purred at Yuki.
"Oh - you didn't? You didn't break her control ring did you?" Yuki laughed hollowly.
