The Delivery

Jane hummed to herself as she walked down the streets of Terrador. There was a perk to her step that one generally associates with a beautiful day, which is of course impossible on a space station. The temperature is kept constantly tepid, the sky is the other side of the cylyndrical habitation deck and the best thing you can say about the breeze is that it smells better than it should given the thousands of different species living, sweating, shitting and fucking in it. Nevertheless, she was committed to enjoying the day. It was delivery day.

The petite woman made her way through the Terrador throng. Cyborgs hustled Tenagog silk merchants. Tentacled Borellians tried to sell “authentic” ambrose spice to hapless rubes. Gavleth warlords pushed their way through the crowds. All this happened under a perpetual pulse of grav bikes, hoversleds, security drones and flying aliens. Theoretically there was a standardized building plan for the habitation deck at one point. One would be challenged to identify it from its current configuration. Terrador’s residents had predictably enforced their haphazard will on the station's architecture in a crude manner. Standardized occupation units were reconfigured with no thought past present needs and available materials. Stalls made from used starship parts leaned against cargo containers, crowding into the already overstuffed street.

And of course there were the slaves. Sooo many slaves.

They came in all shapes and sizes. Ten foot tall Myrebians were comically herded by three foot tall Gravlucks, the rodents hurrying the long legged giantesses along with pole mounted dildos shoved up their asses. For those who liked a thicker **** there was a Gordarian in a public use stall, her semi translucent belly flopping violently as she was fucked from behind. Many armed Gavleths were splayed apart so their assets were on display. The harsh artificial light of Terrador’s corridors shown off beetle black carapace of Colcoch service slaves, the near mindless drones sold en mass at the pleasure and profit of the hive queen.

Some walked free; a Colcoch service drone needs little to keep her from wandering after all. Others, such as an unruly Iah Kuruh who still wasn’t used to being shackled were walking collections of chains and locks. In some **** cases, the species and gender of the **** in question was completely obscured under thick layers of leather, latex and other, far more bizarre materials. In contrast, some slaves had their naked bodies displayed like a Rey-la who hung in her tiny stall selling edible pasties and frozen deserts that she was currently flavoring with her own pussy. An Oo’lick pet crawled on all fours, his arms and legs cocooned together so he was **** to walk around on his elbows and knees, his dick wagging happily. A human maid, on an errand from her owner no doubt, walked with nothing but ankle cuffs connected by a loose chain.

All this and more Jane passed on the way to the docks. She ignored the public use slaves whose eternally needy holes satisfied the masses, the advertisement slaves whose sensual bodies tempted consumers and patrons to stores, and the menial slaves who somehow managed to make the mundane erotic. She walked past the bounty hunters, the pirates, and the gangsters, all of whom looked as though they wanted to put her in the stocks. Jane returned the favor without malice. Afterall, she couldn’t blame them for wanting her. Her “dress” was in the latest Terrador fashion, which is to say it was exceptionally revealing and designed to facilitate sex. It featured two waist high slits, one in the front and one in the back, unequivocally declaring Jane’s pro-commando stance. The backless dress hugged her front, providing a tantalizing boob window. Other than the whip and collection of manacles hanging from her hip, there was very little to distinguish Jane from some of the classier dressed slaves.

The docks was a bustle of industry. In spite of its status as an illegal outpost home to the majority of the Federation’s most wanted list, Terrador was functionally a sector capital for the outlaw frontier. Thousands of ships docked and disembarked from there every day. Many of those ships were **** ships.

Jane entered the bay of the Harru-Maka. The massive cylindrical chamber was dominated by the freighter turned corsair. Four massive lifter engines, capable of dead lifting the blocky construct out of the atmosphere clicked and hissed as the alloys cooled. Cargo bays were thrown open by pirates, eager to unload their cargo and collect the earnings they would receive from their ill gotten cargo. Speaking of which…

Slaves were quickly taking up the available floor space within the bay. Tenok, the Gavleth captain of the vessel, had clearly outdone himself with this raid. Based on the almost exclusive presence of Oo’licks and humans, Jane assumed he had visited an unfortunate HORE refugee colony. Better for her. The almost universal adaptation of Oo’lick gene editing among those outposts ensured that all the new slaves had idealized bodies. Females had hourglass figures with healthy breasts and wide hips, males broad shoulders, rock hard abs and hung schlongs. There were even a few who had the best of both on full display.

“Tenok! You magnificent stallion. What have you brought for me?” The Gavleth wore little more than tight leather pants and a chest harness from which his blaster was slung, but he carried an air of authority that made Jane quiver. Probably something to do with the oh so sexy scar. Or the massive muscles. Or maybe the outline of a massive cock pressing against said tight leather pants. Jane casually walked up to him, threw one leg around him and kissed his neck. She could feel the meat straining within, pushing against her exposed pussy. He slid his hands up her backside, squeezing gently. A traditional Terrador greeting among business partners and fuck buddies.

“Mmmmhhh. Tasty treats from the colony worlds. Silly HORE’s. Given the number of colonies they put in syndicate space, you’d think they all wanted to be enslaved.”

“Well aren’t you so kind to oblige them!”

“Yes. Tragic that I cannot sell them to you. After seeing you again, I have decided that you are simply too beautiful. I must make you mine and break you by whip and cock.”

“Oh!” Jane pouted at the tragic news. “Well I can’t stop you, but that would put a damper on our future business ventures.” She idly ran her hands across four sets of pecks.

“Curses! Why must piracy have such high overheads!” They exchanged polite kisses on each cheek and before turning to the slaves.

The pair walked along the row of beautiful sentients, Jane tracing her fingers along buxom chests, muscled pectorals, dripping pussy’s and half masted cocks. “A fine catch Tenok. You’ve earned the Syndicate rates today.” Jane was already mentally sorting the slaves by estimated selling price.

Tenok stroked his chin thoughtfully. “As I said, space piracy has such high overheads. And this is such a fine stock. I am thinking that I can part with them for five thousand extra.”

Jane’s eyes narrow. “The Syndicate rates are quite competitive Tenok. It is why you sell your pretties at Terrador as opposed to a Krubb Station. I say trying of course because by the time you pay their docking fees, their negotiating fees, their “service” fees, you’ve already had to fork over your ship and your slaves. It leaves very little to cover those nasty overheads.” She swated his buns of steel playfully, letting her hands linger. “So I’m thinking that standard Syndicate rates apply, and you’ll be grateful.” Her grip tightened threateningly.

Tenok growled. It’s a primordial noise, one left over from a time when the Gavleths had to convince the massive predators of their homeworld that there was an easier dinner around elsewhere. Jane was a predator made of sterner stuff.

“Syndicate rates are acceptable, but I am reconsidering the costs and benefits of enslaving you.”

“Oh Tenok,” Jane bat her eyes. “I promise you, there would be benefits.” She waved her hand over her wrist mounted holo display. “The credits have been transferred.”

Tenok checked his own holo display. In spite of his insistence that the price was too low and his costs too high, he smiled. A few orders were barked out in Gavleth and the crew begins herding the slaves. “We are refueling and resupplying. We leave tomorrow. Perhaps we can share a drink tonight and discuss the merit of your servitude to me.” Tenok offers a predatory grin that made Jane shudder with excitement and walked away.

She turns to watch the slaves assemble. Zealous handlers swung with whips and lanced out with shock prods. Screams and moans fill the air as the beautiful captives are **** into a line. Legs were shackled, wrists were cuffed, and collars locked. From **** to **** a single long steel chord was threaded, locking them together in a coffle. Some wept, some begged. Some tried desperately to touch themselves. It was a two week flight from HORE space. Plenty of time for them to have received some preliminary training from Tenok’s sadistic crew. Once the coffle is assembled Tenok hands Jane a single leash.

“Such a small slender thing.” Jane examined the chord. “I’m always shocked at how such a thin piece of material can keep a whole line of slaves under control.” She gripped the control button on the leash and an electric current runs through each **** sending them into a delightful dance of pain, their bodies contouring against their bonds. “Shocked, I say.” She giggled. Humor done for one’s own sake is always the best. “Come along darlings! Let's find you all new owners!”

She lead them back through the streets of Terrador to much fan fare. While its true that slavery is a ubiquitous site on the station, there is something about fresh fish that always draws out the worst of Terrador. Maybe the desire to make a good first impression? Catcalls followed the sexy column as they marched. “How much for the blood sausage there?” “Is there a discount for gently used merchandise?” “You know that Oo’lick spreads her legs wider than the station!” “I’ll buy that hunk over there right now if I can bounce this credit chit off his ass!” Jane smiled at it all. She gave regular shocks, small ones, so that the new slaves would writhe in seductive agony. Everytime the convoy stopped, there were squeals as pedestrians molested a helpless ****. Jane reached down to her own excited pussy as a mature human woman tried to wiggle her way out of a drooling Iollian’s sadistic grip, her heavy boobs bulging between his fingers.

On it went. For the slaves, it was an the beginning of a lifetime filled with humiliation, depridation and lust. For Jane, it was a pleasant delivery.