The incredulous words had tripped out of my mouth before I could do anything about them. From the corner of my eye I could see Yix stare at me like I’d lost my damn mind.
Maybe I had.
Z’rykby’s smile faded and instead of pinching my cheek, she gave it a not-so-light tap instead. “Yes. Many a male pass through this station, and many a male is looking for a female to take care of.” Try as I may, I bristle internally at that. I do not need someone to take care of me. I never have, and I never will. And, I know she’s not referring to the ‘run her a bath and massage her shoulders’ kind of taking care of, too. “Come, my husband will make you look more appealing, and at the very least, you will please Master Joolyx’s patrons after yesterday’s…infraction.”
I wince at the not-so veiled threat and nod my head. Z’rykby lifts her wobbly chin at me, and I know what it is she wants me to say.
“Yes, Mama,” I tell her, plastering the biggest, fakest smile on my face. “You are so good to all of us. I am so grateful for this opportunity to represent you.”
The large, slug-lady looks genuinely pleased by my sickening words. She gazes at me like I’m one of her actual children who just made her oh-so proud. “Come,” she says again, shaking herself out of her happy stupor. She grabs my wrist and holds my arm out. “Husband, stamp the girl and then get her into something that shows off that golden brown human skin. Males love that your species come in such an array of colors.”
“Yes, my love,” Yix agrees as I ignore the way Z’rykby had been talking about humans like we were different colored coats that these alien dudes could try on to see which shade suits them best - like our skin tones are nothing more than a cute palette of colors to choose from to make sure their servants match their home decor. Yix scurries over to us with his little machine in hand, giving me a look like he can read my mind, and is reminding me not to speak it. He had been planning on printing the wrong information on my skin, so as to cause confusion with anyone who wanted to buy me tonight. But, after the quick heat of the laser skin printer leaves my inner forearm, I see that all the correct information isright there;my identifying number, where to buy me, and how much I cost to be loaned out, or bought outright. All for everyone to see in neon green ink that seems to glow.
I glance at Yix, and he gives me a sorrowful look. He obviously couldn’t risk the lies that would save me with Z’rykby being in the room.
She pats my cheek again. “I have a feeling you are going to be very good advertising for the business.” When her hand slips under my jaw, she grips me tightly. “Are you not?”
The threat in her hold and her words are not lost on me. “Y-yes, Mama,” I say, swallowing thickly. “I will make the males happy.”
* * *
Believe it or not, Star Pleasures Club is a few floorsbelowMama Z’rykby’s Trading House. Here on Moon’s Rest Station, the higher you go, the more affluent and respectable the establishments get - you start going lower, and things start looking like the last days of Rome. You might be surprised tolearn that slave trading is good enough for a mid-tier level on this space station, so God knows what you could buy at the lowest levels. I’ve heard rumors that there’s slave traders down there, too. And that Mama’s twisted view of being ‘ethical’ would seem like a tea party in comparison to what’s going on down there.
Yix brings me to the door of Star Pleasures and somehow manages to look apologetic as we get there - which is a feat for someone with the face of a bug, mandibles and all. He gives me one last look up and down and lets out a frustrated little click. Z’rykby had insisted on me wearing a deep burgundy number, a two-piece outfit that hardly covered my breasts and left flowing fabric that drops from my waist to the floor, but only over my crotch and ass. The ensemble leaves my legs bare right up to the waistband. There are no panties either, so if anyone gets handsy…
Say what you want about Z’rykby, she knows how to sell a bed-slave.
I can do this.
I can do this.
I can do this.
Yix’s mandibles open like he wants to give me one last piece of advice.
But they close again, and he lets out a trilling noise, not unlike a cat.
“Better me than Jaya,” I tell him, needing to hear the words myself, too.
He nods and sighs. Me and the girls are pretty convinced he knows that Jaya isn’t under-aged, but he’s happily going along with it. Out of all of Z’rykby’s husbands, Yix is the only one who seems to get attached to us humans or shows any sort of kindness. “I will be back to escort you home at-” he stops and looks at his novelty Halloween watch and then arranges two ofhis buggy arms up in the air at different angles, indicating 5 o’clock. He doesn’t know the numbers, but he likes the different configurations of the clock-face skeleton arms.
5am. That’s seven hours away.
“This the female doin’ a shift from Z’rykby?” a coarse voice calls out from one of the giant security guards. He comes closer, dressed in all black tactical gear and holding a huge blaster in his hand.Oh God, why would he need that?I look up to his stern face to see his purple, bumpy skin and the rhino-like horn protruding from the top of his nose.Ceraphrixii,I think to myself, trying to recall what Yix had told me about that species. I’m pretty sure they aren’t the human-eating kind.
I take a deep breath and step forward. “Yes. That’s me. I’m here to work tonight.”
3
Chapter 3 - Niska
Star Pleasures Club takes up a large lot on this level, and is about as dark, and as seedy as you might expect a club to be on level three-hundred-and-forty-two out of a rumored five-hundred or so. The Ceraphrixii had jerked his head for me to walk inside and make my way to the bar to check in with the staff for my shift. When I enter, my eyes struggle to adjust to the combination of the dark and the strategically placed neon strip-lights in various colors. A loud, strange music with a rhythmic base that I can feel in my chest draws me forward. I’m not wearing any shoes, and the floor is sticky as hell, which is honestly…disgusting. There are two huge lit-up tanks flanking the entryway, and inside, there are some aquatic alien species - naked female ones, to be precise. I turn to one of them. She has green scaled skin and bright pink hair, with webbed fingers and toes, and a thick tail that looks like it would propel her really fast through water.
She notices me and blows a ‘bubble-kiss’ in my directionbefore pointing at a section of glass on her tank. I squint, seeing the strange, glowing, alien lettering before my translator kicks in and the words melt into English.‘Tip amount for a show, tip amount to touch, tip amount to enter my tank…’
Oh.
I shake my head at her. “Oh, no. I’m not a patron,” I blush. “I-I’m here to work.”
