Slaves of Love

“What’s that?”

“Level-three means all three orifices are virgin. Two means two are; one means only one. Level-two-B means only the mouth is not virgin, and level-two-A means the anus.”

Bahrd lurched to his feet and started unbuckling his pants as he moved toward Shena. He pulled his dangling prick out of his pants and pushed it at Shena’s mouth.

Shena cringed in revulsion.

Dark Hair grabbed Bahrd’s arms before he could push it against her lips.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I ain’t been paid yet, and since she sucked cock before, I’m aimin’ to get my share before she’s sold.”

“Not a wise business move.”

“Eh?”

“I said she is technically a level-two-B,” Blond Hair explained. “In cases like this, we have some leeway. Given only one incident, we don’t have to disclose that information and can sell her as a full virgin.”

Bahrd lurched forward again.

“If one’s okay, two won’t make a difference.”

Blond Hair shoved Bahrd back into his chair.

“When buying a virgin, our patrons desire a woman who is naïve in the ways of sex,” Blond Hair said. “Two times can very well make a difference, but more importantly, it will put us outside our regulated tolerance level. We have a clear understanding with Mr. Wakefield. He is entitled to the full amount for this virgin. If you wish to have her perform oral sex on you, you will be required to pay the difference.”

He eyed Shena. “How much?”

Shena knew he’d be reluctant to admit that her father was dead. They’d probably buy her anyway, but the weight of her father’s status behind the deal gave him a better bargaining position.

“One thousand local credits.”

“A thousand?” His fists clenched. “No woman is worth that.”

Shena gulped a sigh of relief as he shoved his limp member away and zipped up.

“Look, you’re not leaving for a few days,” Bahrd continued. “How ’bout I bring back a few friends, maybe twenty or so. We’ll split the thou’. A lot of ’em would love to fuck her face. Fifty each wouldn’t be so bad.”

Shena shuddered at the thought, her already queasy stomach lurching.

“Out of the question,” Dark Hair responded. “If you paid the thousand and used her, she would then be officially classified as level-two-B, and we’d make her available in the brothel while we’re here. In that case, we would keep the thousand plus the fifty per man.”

Shena shuddered again. Her father had told her the slavers often put their slaves into the local brothels. A big attraction was the night they made the locally purchased slaves available. The men seemed to love the opportunity to be with women they knew and couldn’t have had before.

Bahrd’s expression turned sour. “Fine. Just give me the money.”

Several moments later, with the exchange of money and a bill of sale declaring payment for a full virgin, Bahrd was on his way.

Shena glanced around, wondering what would come next. She didn’t have long to wait. Dark Hair grasped her arm at the wrist and elbow, and before she had a chance to pull away, Blond Hair pressed a metal rod against her skin. Searing pain and the smell of burning flesh assaulted her at the same time. She cried out, tears prickling at her eyes. When he removed the rod, she saw a circle about an inch in diameter burned into the tender white flesh about three inches from her wrist. A single line radiated from the centre of the circle to the edge.

Dark Hair exclaimed in some foreign language, then yelled at Blond Hair. He disappeared into the other room and returned a moment later, holding a metal device. When he brought it near her, Shena cringed, but Blond Hair held out her arm while the other held the device to the branded skin. Seconds later, the mark, along with the lingering pain, disappeared.

What an amazing healing device. But why in the world had they inflicted the brand on her, only to remove it? Blond Hair continued to hold her arm, and Dark Hair put the healing device down, then grabbed the rod again. He fiddled with a lever on the end of it, then pressed it into her flesh once again. She cried out, then whimpered as they branded her once again. This time the mark was a simple circle.

Dazed, she stared at the angry red skin as the men placed metal bands, connected by a chain, around her wrists. One of them led her out the door and around the back to a truck. She’d heard the word in reference to the self-powered vehicles the slavers, and some of the other rich merchants, used to transport goods from the spaceport to the market. Another transgression allowed to the wealthy off-worlders who could buy themselves past the law.

The door on the back of the truck creaked open, revealing twenty or more women packed inside, sitting along each side of the truck or on the floor. Her captor pushed her inside and closed the door behind her. A little light entered the dismal space from a small window in the door. No one said a word. Shena continued to stand, uncomfortable with so many bodies so close.