The woman in the image I do not recognize. She’s a youthful brunette with the pale skin and mottling typical of our two species. On the side of her face, overwriting the creamy silk of pale skin and brown mottling is a swirling mark like a tattoo. I know enough of Aghara-Penthay to recognize it – the slave mark that the Slavers permanently tattoo on all their captive women, as a sign of quality. She’s pretty, although in my biased view not as attractive as Gara. The woman’s breasts are small, and her hips are not so wide in proportion to her waist. Her vulva is entirely hairless. Its pale pink lips are fat and rounded, almost submerging the vertical slit. She’s less strongly built than the females on our world. A Harken woman. This female is stark naked, which is does not shock me. Gaianesian women are comfortable being nude in front of each other. What makes me gasp is her pose, to see a woman with the markings of our species on her knees and holding her thighs open, as though she needs to humbly plead for sexual attention. A sex traitor! A whore! That’s why my first reaction to the picture indian is, “And this submissive thing thought my sister was good enough for her?” “Don’t judge her too harshly,” Red Duchess says firmly. “The Slavers of Aghara-Penthay implant a microchip into the brainstem of captive women. It disrupts the signals relating to willpower, meaning an implanted female is compelled to follow orders, as long as the order is given by a man. They only had to ask her to pose that way and she would have obeyed.” I’ve heard that before, but my beliefs are too ingrained to accept that some part of her nature must have already been inclined to submission. Otherwise how could a woman look so unashamed, displaying her sex like that? I’m looking at a female debasing herself to please men… Possession of this image could get someone into trouble on Gaianesia. I would throw the revolting filth away in disgust, were I not obliged to pay attention to the writing, which is the common galactic script. “Riyena, 25, from Harka-Ringworld,” I say aloud. “Fifty credits homemade for a session, slave also for permanent sale by auction galactic date 10:13:4452. Enquires to the Palace of Roses, Mezzanine Level, Aghara-Penthay Orbital Trading Station.” A footnote adds, “Bring your own slave. See her abused as the plaything of this woman hater.” “Woman hater?” I ask. “I thought you said Riyena was a lesbian. Gara would never be intimate with a misogynist.” “The brain implants can do more than force women to obey” White Queen explains. “They can change the woman’s personality, sexuality, anything they want. With lesbian females they often enjoy turning them sadistic towards their own sex, a trick they also like to do with women from female dominated societies such as ours.” What kind of animal would want to do that – alter a woman’s very identity? I feel faint with horror. And I’m more disgusted these women think my sister would tolerate such treatment. “You actually believe they did this to Gara as well?” I say, outraged. “Surely not! She’d take her own amateur life rather than do anything the Slavers wanted.” “We don’t know,” says Red Duchess in a placatory tone. "Sheila, you are my greatest creation. amateur “Enough Sean. We homemade have found however that she loves me eating her out, so that's what I do. She only nodded and took a seat at the small table in the corner. "So, it's true? I don’t feel anything sticky.” Finally I spoke up "Ok. I'll do it." Tell me what you plan to do." I met her eyes briefly but felt her breasts dragging my eyes down again. I called Sharon to send Jill over to me. A few minutes passed before Jill showed up. We could have sex anytime and anywhere we wanted. "Where's your tights," said Jenny pointing at Mindy's bare legs, "and what's with the no underwear look?" teased Jenny. The mail always came around 9-9:30 so he said, “I need you to run down and get the mail. Your eyes are now fixed staring out into space and your body still except for some involuntary twitches and spasms of your dying muscles. She was looking at him as he fell asleep. “Ah, ah-h, aah, ah?!” Stephanie responded, indian immediately slipping out of the sensuous daze he’d lulled her into and trembling as waves of pleasure crashed into her. I stared ahead as we came to a stop at a secure gate made of chain link, coils of razor wire running along the top.