But I know that gleam in Gorde’s eye. He’s already thinking the human is ours.
Which is too bad, because we could sell her for a huge profit. Maybe I can still talk him into it.
After we’ve had our way with her, of course.
Because there’s no way either of us will last a planet rotation in the same ship as this enticing female without needing to claim her.
And considering the condition we found her in, it’s easy to ignore my guilt at using her as a sex slave. Surely this has been her use for all of her adult existence.
We’ll treat her well, and resell her to a decent being. No harm will come to her. And Gorde and I certainly know our way around the human female anatomy enough to please her. We’ll have her screaming for release before we leave Aurelian airspace, I guarantee it.
Gorde voice activates the hatch and carries her onboard our craft—a shiny new fightership provided by King Zander for our special mission.
“Let’s get our little slave cleaned up,” Gorde says, but walks past the washtube. I realize when he reaches the back hatch, he intends to use the open wash area normally used to hosing down dirty equipment.
Ah. He wants to wash her himself. Or rather, he’s inviting me to join him in washing her. There’s no way the three of us would’ve fit in the washtube.
I trail after them, admiring the lovely human’s form. In her upside down position, the pale roots of her hair are even more obvious.
Gorde sets her upright on the metal surface and I watch her face. I don’t catch any sign of resentment, nor do I see the simple slave’s expression of devotion or seduction.
This human carries only wary alertness. She’s not overly afraid, nor does she appear particularly trusting.
If I were to bet, I’d put Zandian crystal on her being very smart for her species.
I wonder how she ended up on the auction block in Aurelia.
I’m sure if I scanned her barcode, I’d find out she escaped her former master. There could even be a bounty out for her return.
Even as I consider it, something in me rejects the idea. And not just because Gorde seems taken by her. No, I’m not in a hurry to get rid of this enchanting creature too soon, myself.
The prospect of enjoying her thoroughly has me far too excited.
Gorde turns on the spray hose and strips off his clothes. I shuck mine as well.
The little human’s face remains impassive as she scans our naked bodies, but her lips part and her nipples harden the way they did when Gorde touched her in the market.
We still haven’t spoken a single word to the slave herself, but we speak in Ocretion so she can understand us. It’s a subtle power play—one Gorde and I have used a hundred times in all kinds of situations, from bargaining for goods to fighting for our lives.
I pick up the hose and turn the nozzle until the spray fans out lightly. Gorde maneuvers her until she’s standing right in front of me. “All right. Let’s wash the stench of the market off her.”
I start with her head, rinsing the mud from her hair. It runs in red rivulets down her tantalizing body. She blinks the water from her eyes and shoves her hair back from her face, but otherwise makes no protest.
; “It’s even prettier than we suspected,” Gorde says, picking up a strand of her moon-pale hair. With the mud washed out, it lies in a smooth sheet down her back.
I step in closer and bring the spray to her neck, then shoulders. When I get to her breasts, I let my free hand wander over them, testing their size and weight.
“Mmm. Firm breasts. Perfect size to fill my hand,” I observe.
“Let me try.” Gorde steps up behind her and wraps both his hands around her breasts from behind. “Yes, you’re right.” He squeezes her nipples.
She shifts from one foot to the other, but still offers no protest.
Good little slave. Well-trained.
Gorde releases her to find a skin cleanser and returns. “She’s quite dirty,” he observes with a casual air as he rubs a dollop of cleanser between his two palms. “It will probably take some time to make sure we get every crack and crevice clean.”