Labour (With picture link)

"So what do ya think, buddy? Impressive huh? Soon we'll be growin' enough to fill our bellies twice over! "

Calvo looked over the desolate, rocky ash-plain and nodded, plastering a smile on his face for Ravok's benefit. He was no soil biologist, but even he knew that getting anything to grow in Tau-Ceti Two's unforgiving soil took more than just sweat and bloody-mindedness. He doubted that however much ****-labour the good people of Tombstone used, however much chemical fertilizer and farm equipment they were able to loot or trade for, they would never be able to do more than scratch a miserable existance in this barren place.

Calvo had been awakened that morning by a knock which echoed around the metal box of his quarters, harsh and discordant. As he had answered the door, Dragon had cowered in the corner, tiny and naked, a look of shock and revulsion on her beautiful oriental face, her lip cut and her cheek stained with a livid purple bruise. She had even managed tears as she was gleefully told by Ravok that she would remain in Calvo's 'care', since he obviously knew how to treat filthy guard bitches.

The ex-prisoner had then be led to an ancient all terrain vehicle. When the ATV's power unit had finally been coaxed in to smoking, coughing life, Calvo had been driven out to see how Tombstone was 'improving' itself....and how at least one of the guardswomen had been put to work by her new owner.

"Yeah, our town's goin' places buddy, and now, you're part of that!"

Ravok indicated the rocky, baked ash-plain with a sweep of his arm, as he and Calvo stood beside the parked ATV. Nearby volcanic vents spewed heat and sulphurous gas in to the air, making the benighted place resemble some forgotten level of hell. Another larger ATV sat nearby, like a rusting, malevolent toad, and an armed townsman was overseeing the clearance of rocks from what would become his field, presumably.

"Sligo there bought one of them guard bitches...looks like he's gettin' his money's worth!"

Twelve was stripped naked in the stifling heat, **** gas and dust. She struggled to shift rocks, apparently clearing the area for cultivation, although exactly what crop might grow in this hellhole Calvo could only immagine. A man... Sligo, he presumed... had a gun trained casually on Twelve, as she struggled under the weight of a heavy rock.

Sligo was a whipcord lean, hard-bitten looking man, skin as dried and tough as old leather, mouth twisted in a perpetual sneering scowl. He wore a the red beret of a colonial shock trooper, although whether the man was an ex-soldier or had simply aquired the beret was open to question. Worse still, Calvo caught the tell-tale flicker of light on the surface of his sunglasses that marked him out as a VIM-Stim junkie. The play of flashes and images on the lenses of his Visual Interface Module were designed to directly affect his emotional states. VIM junkies were notoriously unpredictable, prone to sudden, violent rages. The way Sligo was constantly sweeping his aim over Twelve as he trained his gun at her, did not bode well for the guardswoman.

She looked filthy, haggered and ****, dust matting her close cropped hair, her skin coated with grime, and sweat trickling over her meagre, dainty little tits. Calvo thought she looked perversely sexy: the thick dark bush of her sex nestled invitingly between her straining, slender thighs as she wrestled, sobbing, with a weighty boulder. For a moment he pondered the possibility of using his 'hero' status to try to get her released to his care....but surely that would be pushing his luck too far, given that Sligo now 'owned' her......

((Here is and address for an illustration of this scene:

http://www.raunchyminds.com/gallery/details.php?image_id=10041&mode=search

Hope you enjoy it))