You go to the market

“Well, if you are not going, I’m still going,” you tell her, and you dart off towards the enormous building in the distance.

“Wait, I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it!” Elena says, and starts rushing after you. “I just wanted you to think a bit first!”

“Well, I thought a bit!” you answer.

“Besides: What am I gonna do with you enslaved, the ship appropriated by the police, and a mile-long shopping list for items that we cannot even afford to begin with?” she adds.

“You see: we are about to solve all our problems!”

It only takes an hour to traverse the distance to the city. Then you are on the streets, looking at the people dressed in all sorts of shiny suits and revealing dresses. Some wear a **** collar, and seem more docile than the others. Some are proud and hold their head high: they are the one who own slaves. And there are those who are afraid to even look up from the ground: they are those who are not enslaved yet, but they know it is inevitable to happen.

And there is you two of course: walking the streets proudly, wearing your jeans and trousers, with a gun tucked in your backpacks, being hot and irresistible, but also looking outright alien from this world. Yes, there are plenty of glances. And yes, if you wouldn’t be walking towards the **** Registry, you would be worried to get tucked into a speeder, and driven off to somewhere. But that‘s exactly why you are doing this.

Another fifteen minutes later you reach the **** Registry. In front of the stairs, you notice a tall, white-haired guy, who appears to be in his twenties, holding two gorgeous slaves behind him. Blonde-curly hair, pale skin, two enormous ballgags, white dresses, hands cuffed in front, six inch high heels, short chains between the cuffs on their ankles.

“Excuse me ladies, are you headed to the registry?” the man asks.

“We are,” you nod.

“So you are looking to buy?” he asks.