“Twenty-eight,” Need said to the slaver, ignoring his shipmate’s not-so-subtle threats.
“Twenty-eight once,” the slaver exclaimed. “Come, Sir,” he added, looking at Drung. “Will you not counter? Or will you allow this prime specimen to be sold right out from under you?”
The small, piggy eyes of Drung’s middle head screwed up in anger.
“For that much, I want a verification of her virginity—so I do!” he declared. “You could be lying about the female being untouched. I must have a clean vessel to grow my heir in, so I must.”
“That’s easily done!” The slaver had been crouched at the front of the stage, talking to Drung and Need. Now he straightened up and snapped his long, dirty fingers. “Chund,” he shouted, nodding at a short, stubby Torg who was standing at the back of the stage, waiting to bring forward the next unfortunate slave to be bid on. “Bring the stick. We need verification of virtue over here.” He paused for a moment, frowning. “Better bring the lubricant too—she’ll be tight inside, since she’s unused.”
“Yes, boss. Right away, boss!” The Torg nodded his head and began rummaging in a bag at his feet. Soon enough, he brought forth a long, thick, phallus shaped rod and a thick tube which he handed to the slaver, who took the items with a curt nod.
“Now then gentlemen, if you’ll look here for a moment,” he said to Need and Drung. “I’ll show you how this device works. Have either of you ever been with a virgin before?”
“Can’t say as I have,” Drung remarked. Need said nothing but only glared at the slaver. The girl the slaver had called Lan’ara was clearly fighting back more tears as she watched the demonstration.
“Well, the stick here, as we call it, is a rod made of perisum—the bone at the center of a banthum’s cock,” the slaver said, gesturing with the phallus shaped instrument he held in his hand.
It was around a foot long and three inches thick at least, Need saw, frowning. The shaft of it was yellowish-white—the color of old ivory—but it had a knobby bright red head that seemed to pulse with life.
“The banthum is a creature from Churger Four which only mates once to impregnate an untried female,” the slaver went on when Drung frowned at him in obvious confusion. “The banthum can tell by the way its phallus reacts to a female if she’s ever been with another male—it will be attracted to a virgin and repulsed by a more, shall we say, experienced female.” He leered at Drung knowingly.
“So…what then?” the Trollox asked, still frowning in confusion.
“Well, though the stick has been separated from its host, it retains it’s affinity for virgin flesh,” the slaver explained patiently. “It will try to burrow its way into any untried pussy you put it near. Watch while I demonstrate.”
The slaver motioned for his assistant again and then pointed to the quivering girl.
“Get her down, Chung—knees spread wide to show her cunt,” he ordered. “We have to give the stick room to work,” he added, still speaking to Drung.
“Is this really necessary?” Need asked sharply as the stubby Torg assistant forced the girl into a kneeling position on the stage right in front of him and Drung. He spread her knees wide and pulled her torn gown apart to show her bare breasts and the soft little mound of her pussy. “That damn stick thing you have is too big for her—you’ll hurt her!” he protested.
Not to mention humiliating her, he couldn’t help thinking as silent tears roll down her flushed cheeks, while the damn assistant held her in place and kept her from covering her nakedness.
“Not to worry about that—the stick will be adequately lubricated,” the slaver said briskly.
As he spoke, he popped open the tube he was holding and poured a generous amount of slick blue gel onto the knobby red end of the stick. Feeling his stomach turn at the sight, Need saw the thing was already jumping in his hand so that he had to hold it firmly. It was straining towards the girl, aiming itself at her vulnerable, open pussy as though eager to invade her and claim its prize.
“Seriously,” he told the slaver. “Forget about verification—I’ll buy her without it.”
“Not me—I want to see, so I do!” Drung insisted stubbornly, glaring at him. “Besides, that stick thing he’s got is about the size of my smallest stretcher, so it is. It’ll give me a head start on being able to breed her once I buy her.”
“I don’t think—” Need began but just then the stick got loose from the slaver’s hand and flew on its on volition to bury itself between the girl’s thighs.
“Ahh!” The little female gave an anguished cry and stiffened as the knobby red head of the alien phallus began to press itself inside her. She writhed as it worked at her but the slaver’s assistant had a good grip on her upper arms. He held her in place, pulling her shoulders back so that her bare breasts thrust out and her thighs strained open. There was a bored look on his face—clearly he was used to such scenes.